Politics At Last: A No-Go From Mario

By Michael Kramer

What happened? He had communed with himself for 70 days, exposing his innermost calculations in near hourly briefings to anyone who cared. He had authorized the gathering of troops and moneymen. He had signed the legal papers and glowed as expectations soared. Everything and everyone was ready. And then, at the eleventh hour, with political junkies and hopeful Democrats in a state of emotional exhaustion, Mario Cuomo said, "Nah, not this time either."

Such as it was, the Governor's thinking had less to do with politics than with his self-image, with his concern that a giant poised to lead a crusade might ultimately appear small and personally ambitious. Strange thoughts for a politician. Par for the course for Mario Cuomo.

More than anything, a trial lawyer fears being unprepared. And more than anything, Mario Cuomo remains a trial lawyer. "You've got to know your brief 110%," Cuomo explained several years back. "Unless I know it all better than anyone, my performance is flat. I may never get the questions that expose my weaknesses, but if I know they're there, waiting to be discovered, then I can be as mediocre as anyone. So I have to know it all. I never pretend. I'm too afraid of making a mistake."

The last time Cuomo declined to run for President, back in 1987, he had been studying nonstop for months. In a hotel room in New Orleans on Feb. 16, he was trying his best to get a handle on U.S. farm policy. "Does anyone really understand this stuff?" he wondered. "What happens when I have to be cogent on parity or price supports? You remember what happened to Gerry?" Cuomo's reference was to Geraldine Ferraro, who confused an arcane bit of nuclear-war fighting strategy -- the difference between "first use" and "first strike" -- during her unsuccessful 1984 vice-presidential race. "The worst thing that can happen to you in this business is the same as the worst thing that can happen in the law," said Cuomo. "You're made to look foolish." Three days later, Cuomo shied away from the 1988 presidential race.

Earlier this year, Cuomo again confronted his fear that he wasn't fully prepared. He blundered by suggesting that the U.S. consider a negotiated settlement to the gulf crisis that could have left Iraq with some Kuwaiti territory and oil. But the real obstacle this time was a different worry. On one level it was as the Governor stated: he had -- and has -- an obligation to resolve New York's fiscal crisis. At another level it was politics, pure and simple. Cuomo knew what an aide to George Bush confided only a few hours before the Governor announced that he would not run in 1992: "We don't want to face Mario. But if he goes, the Republicans in Albany will tie him up for months. His budget will never be resolved, and he'll look like he's put his personal desire for the presidency before his public responsibility. It'll kill him."

That Republican "got it right," says a Cuomo adviser. "Mario would have tortured himself about appearing to abdicate his first obligation. He would have seen himself as small and petty. That's really why he decided not to run, but he had to look deep inside to figure it out."

At the end, the decision was Cuomo's alone. After working with the Governor for four hours last Friday morning, Cuomo's top assistant, Andrew Zambelli, told a colleague, "You'd think that I, as the chief of staff, would know if the Governor were going to run for President. But you'd be wrong." A few days before, Cuomo's political advisers, sticklers for order and slaves to planning, had connived to convince their man that they, at least, had to know his plans 36 hours before the 5 p.m. New Hampshire primary filing deadline. Their ace, they thought, was Cuomo's personal frugality. Chartering a press plane to accompany the Governor for the symbolic trip to New Hampshire's capital costs real money. Why part with the cash if Cuomo was going to say no? But Cuomo was unmoved. "It's only money," said the Governor uncharacteristically, "and timing is everything. It would be silly to make a decision before you have to." At a loss for guidance, the advisers prudently got the plane.

What might have been? Using his words as fists, Cuomo offered a brief foretaste several days before he bowed out. Calling Bush's economic prescriptions a "fraud" and a "phony," the Governor stared straight into a television camera and challenged the President: "You want to talk about what you call the 'New York nightmare,' " said Cuomo. "I'll meet you anytime, anyplace. You can have all the memos and all the aides with you that you want. I'll come alone without a note."

The same combative spirit and sense of command was evident during the question period following Cuomo's somber announcement of noncandidacy. In a spellbinding, extemporaneous critique that spared no one, Republican or Democrat, Cuomo began softly, "Especially this year, the message is ((most)) important . . . But it must be a responsible, complete, persuasive one. You can't and shouldn't win with a slogan. You're going to have to earn the presidency . . . with plans that are real. I don't believe we've done that yet.

"It's easy to criticize," Cuomo continued, warming to his indictment. "You want the criticism, I'll give it to you in one line: 'Is your life better today than it was four years ago?' The answer is so dramatically clear that the contest is over. But you shouldn't win because he loses. You should win because you're right. You need specific answers, not sweet speeches. You need to say how you're going to put ((people)) to work, and the hard part, how you're going to pay for it. What we need is a dose of plain truth."

What now? Cuomo's fans see none of the six major candidates emerging decisively. They hope for a fractured result and dream of a second season, when Cuomo enters late or is drafted at the July convention in New York City. "It doesn't work that way," says Cuomo, being more truthful than modest. Well, what about 1996, when Cuomo, who is now 59, will still be six years younger than Ronald Reagan was on Inauguration Day 1981? In politics, says Cuomo, 1996 "is an eon away, perhaps an eon and a quarter." Of course, it is really only four years away, and unless Bush or his successor gets a grip on the nation's problems, well, who knows?

Meanwhile the race for the Democratic nomination is now truly wide open.