the chamber: a week in the new york city council (spring 2009)

8/20/2019 The Chamber: A Week in the New York City Council (Spring 2009)

1/17

THE CHAMBERBY JARRETT MURPHY WITH SARAH CREAN, MICHELLE HAN, CURTIS STEPHEN, CHLOE TRIBICH AND HELEN ZELON

SPRING 2009 VOL. 33 NO. 01

A WEEK IN TLIFE OF T

NEW YOCITY COUNC


2/17

PUBLISHER’S NOTE The last two times that New York’s City Council escaped its usual obscurity were certainly nothighpoints of the legislature’s 71-year lifetime. Last spring, controversies surrounding the coun-cil’s practice of parking funding for community-based organizations under the name of fictitiousentities threw open a window on some questionable business practices. Late in the year, aftera fractious debate, the City Council voted to overturn term limits—rejecting the voters’ will asexpressed in two separate referenda.

Amid such controversies and the constant churn of falderal—like hundreds of symbolic streetnamings—some of the people’s business does, however, get done and on occasion done well. Just in the past year, the Council can point to accomplishments like restoring $129 million incuts to city classroom services or passing a series of measures to improve construction safetyin the wake of several deadly accidents. Over the years the body has led the way nationally withsignificant action on gay rights, campaign finance and the environment.

But whether inspiring or embarrassing , the Council’s work usually takes place uncomplicatedby broad public awareness or scrutiny. Given New York state’s authority over many nooks andcrannies of city policy (including taxation) and our underlying “strong mayor” system, the Coun-cil has little uncontested leverage over policy and offers its members scant opportunity to distin-guish themselves. The truth is that if you ask a typical New Yorker, they will be hard pressed toname their own councilmember—much less another member outside their home district.

For this issue of City Limits Investigates we wanted to provide readers a window on the curi-ous texture of members’ daily lives as well as offer a feel for how the Council as a whole does itsbusiness. The parade of meetings blurring the consequential with the inane; the behind-closed-

doors, district by district deal-making; the push-me-pull-you relationship between the speaker,her central staff and members; the consuming, unglamorous and underappreciated work of con-stituent service and the constant background noise of fundraising and political hob-knobbingall combine to create a gerbil wheel of action—or perhaps distraction—for the Council and itsmembers.

As the city faces some of its steepest challenges in more than a generation, we need andexpect the Council to be an effective counterweight to mayoral prerogative and a forum forreal debate. In order for that to happen, we need to first understand the body’s limitations, itsstrengths and the political theater we are complicit in compelling them to participate in.

We hope this snapshot of a week in the Council’s life prompts a look in the mirror—by themand by ourselves as citizens. Does the Council matter? How do we understand and shape theirservice? Do we have the Council we deserve?

Finally, we’d like in particular to thank Councilmen Robert Jackson, John Liu and James Vac-ca who were gracious enough to allow City Limits reporters full access to their days, their candorand the mix of the noble, objectionable and mundane that is life in the New York City Council.

— Andy Breslau, Publisher

OVER5 DAYDoes thCity Coumatter?CHAPTERSI. Monday

II. Tuesday

III. Wednesday IV. Thursday

V. Friday

IN FOCUS A Test Run Little election, big pro

Beyond Lulus The Council’s outside

CITY LIMITS INVESTIGATES is published quarterly(spring, summer, fall and winter) by City FuturesInc., 120 Wall Street, 20th floor, New York, NY 10005,a nonprofit organization devoted to rethinking,reframing and improving urban policies in NewYork City and, by extension, other cities throughoutAmerica. For features, news updates and analysis,events, and jobs of interest to people working in NewYork City’s nonprofit and policymaking world, signup for the free City Limits Weekly on our website,citylimits.org.

City Futures is also home to Center for an UrbanFuture (nycfuture.org), a think tank dedicated to in-dependent, fact-based research about critical issuesaffecting New York City’s future.

General support for City Futures has been providedby the Bernard F. and Alva B. Gimbel Foundation,Deutsche Bank, the F.B. Heron Foundation, Fundfor the City of New York, the Scherman FoundationInc., and the Unitarian Universalist Veatch Programat Shelter Rock. Additional funding for City Limits projects has been provided by the Ira W. DeCampFoundation.

Periodical postage paidNew York, NY 10001City Limits (USPS 498-890) (ISSN 0199-0330)

Subscriptions to City Limits Investigates areprovided for $25 per year or a $50 donation tosupport all City Futures’ work. Supporters will alsoreceive our e-mail publications and reports fromthe Center for an Urban Future. As City Futures is a501(c)(3), a portion of your donation is tax deductible.To join, or for more information, e-mail [email protected].

Businesses, foundations, banks, government agenciesand libraries can subscribe at a rate of $50 per year.To subscribe, visit www.citylimits.org.

We welcome letters, articles, ideas and submissions.Please send them to [email protected].

Postmaster: Please send address changes to:

City Limits 120 Wall Street–fl. 20 | New York, NY 10005T: (212) 479-3344 | F: (212) 479-3338E: [email protected]

Design by C. Jerome, Design Confederation

Copyright © 2009. All rights reserved. No portion orportions of this journal may be reprinted without theexpress permission of the publishers. City Limits isindexed in the Alternative Press Index and the AveryIndex to Architectural Periodicals and is available onmicrofilm from ProQuest, Ann Arbor, MI 48106

he Council in action: James Vacca of the Bronx speaks to a constituent; Queens Councilman John Liu races the clock as he addresses a seniors’

roup; Speaker Christine Quinn and Councilman Robert Jackson, both from Manhattan, prepare for a general meeting. Cover: The New York Cityouncil Chamber at 10:30 a.m. on February 9, 2009. Photos: JM

CITY LIMITS STAFF

Jarrett MurphyInvestigations Editor

Karen LoewCityLimits.org Editor

Sarah CreanInvestigations Intern

CITY FUTURES STAFF

Andy BreslauExecutive Director & Publ

Mark Anthony ThomDeputy Director

Ahmad DowlaAdministrative Assistant

CITY FUTURES BOARD

Margaret Anadu, Michael

Ken Emerson, David LebeGifford Miller, Lisette NievIra Rubenstein, John Sieg

Karen Trella, Peter William

WWW

SPRING 200


3/17

CITY LIMITS INVESTIGATES

However, the man of the hour hasnothing to do with the New York

City Council. He is Chesley B. “Sully”Sullenberger III, the pilot who a few weeks earlier saved hundreds of lives bygently landing his stricken U.S. Air ways jetliner in the freezing Hudson River. Heis there to receive the key to the city inthe Blue Room, near the mayor’s officeon the west side of City Hall.

Up the stairs and on the other sideof City Hall, the meeting of the ZoningSubcommittee is less well attended.In fact, many of the committee’s ownmembers have not shown up. Council-man Tony Avella of Queens, who chairsthe panel, is on his cell phone trying tofind his missing colleagues. CouncilmanSimcha Felder from Brooklyn, the onlyother committee member actually pres-ent at 9:30, asks Avella, “Do you want toreschedule this for Thursday?” The cameraman for the city’s televi-sion station is staring into space. Thetimer for public testimony is stuck at

3:00. Civil War general George Mc-Clellan stares down from an oil por-trait on one wall of the City Councilcommittee room. Al Vann, a Brooklyn councilman, ar-rives at 9:40. “Here comes Melinda,”a staffer says, looking out the window.“She’s on her BlackBerry.” Avella,hands in his pockets, shuffles over to

look. Melinda Katz, a Queens councilwoman and the chair of the powerfulLand Use Committee, enters the rooma few minutes later talking on her cellphone in an unhappy tone: “We’vehad two hearings...I want this done byMarch 7.” The phone rings. An aide an-swers, talks, hangs up. “[Bronx Coun-cilman Larry] Seabrook is on his way.” Councilman Eric Gioia from Queenscomes in at 10, about the same time aCouncil staffer notices Captain Sullen-berger making his way up the City Hallsteps. “Should we open the window andscream?” someone asks. “No,” saysFelder. Tongue in cheek, he suggestssome heckling instead. “Go home! Wehate you! Flying your plane into our riv-er!” The committee counsel jokes back,“He should have glided into City Hall.” Finally, a quorum being present, Avella gavels the meeting to order to ad-dress the one item on its agenda: an ap-plication for a zoning amendment for anaffordable-housing project in Gramercy.

Two representatives of the housing developer testify for a couple of minutes.Katz never stops BlackBerrying. Theroll is called, everyone votes “aye,” thegavel falls and the New York City Coun-cil has completed its first order of busi-ness for the week of February 9. When Mayor Michael Bloomberg an-nounced last October that he wanted

term limits extended four more years in officCouncil to decide whthe change. The debsplit a body that vot with unanimity and raan institution that is owed by the mayor, cattorneys, police commchancellor and other p

The final vote on te22 in favor of the eCouncil’s decision didquestions the episode York City’s legislaturea genuine counterweigber stamp to the maycouncilmembers havepursue their policy vibeholden to a poweragenda? Does the Coustituent input, or arehearings just windowgone conclusions? In short, does the Ci

A s the zoning heGioia chats witoffers a piece of adviset out to watch the recently read a reviedocumentaries by Fre who filmed the actioinstitutions—first a

Over 5 days, the 51 members of the City Councilattended 16 hearings, held 44 votes, served 8million constituents and faced 1 big question:

Do they matter? This is the story of that week.

I. MONDAYThe meeting of the New York City Council’s Zoning Subcommittee isscheduled to start at 9:30 on the morning of February 9. By that time,there is a long line of notebook-clutching reporters and gear-laden camera

operators forming in the foyer of City Hall. Pretty soon, the person they

are waiting for will stride across the wide plaza in front of the building,

from the glass-encased police checkpoints to the steps that rise into

New York City’s capitol.

BY JARRETT MURPHY WITH SARAH CREAN, MICHELLE HAN, CURTIS STEPHEN, CHLOE TRIBICH AND

Monday 11 a.m.: The crowd at a Parks Committee hearingverflows into the balcony seats. Photo: JM


4/17


SPRING 2009


rison, and so on. “It was great—realinema verité,” Gioia recalls. “Then heid the same thing in a state legislature,nd it was terrible. He figured out why:n a prison or a hospital, what you see is

what you get. In a legislature,” he says,esturing toward the Council cham-ers in the next room, “ever ything youee out there has been decided behindoors somewhere.”To the extent that the City Council is

n the public eye, public hearings are

what puts it there. Unlike the mayor,ouncilmembers don’t often generate aot of publicity when they visit a site orold a press briefing. Their time in theun is usually confined to the sessions in

which members question commission-rs and accept public testimony on pro-osed legislation or policy issues. It isot surprising, then, that hearings come

n for a fair amount of criticism—much

of it from councilmembers themselves,like Simcha Felder, who, after the Zon-ing hearing, is shaking his head and eye-ing his watch. The perpetual lateness ofhis colleagues seems to be one of thefew things Felder doesn’t laugh about.

“Citizens take time off work to come”and testify, he says; when there are nocouncilmembers there, “It looks ter-rible.” And it snowballs: Members whoshow up on time end up waiting for aquorum, so the next time, they don’t

bother to be punctual either. None ofthis tardiness registers in the attendancerecords because members get credit aslong as they enter the chamber at somepoint during the hearing; it doesn’t mat-ter when they arrive or how long theystay. “The real winners are those whoshow up an hour late and then stay fiveminutes,” Felder chides. “Then you notice how few [council-

members] are actually listening,” hecontinues. “The work people bring inhere—and I do this too—BlackBerrys,forget about it, correspondence!” Somemembers eat during testimony. Othersread the newspaper. A few chat with oth-er members or staffers. “This is why weextended term limits?” Felder asks. Next door to the committee room,in the main Council chamber, securityguards are setting up extra chairs to ac-commodate what is expected to be anoverflow crowd for today’s next orderof business—a hearing on four pro-posed measures addressing the use of“crumb rubber infill” in playing fieldsor black rubber mats as playgroundsurfaces. The infill, which is used un-der the synthetic turf that the Parks

Department has used to replace worngrass fields, has raised health concernsover its chemical content and heat-trapping effects. Meanwhile, the blackmats have been linked to children’s re-ceiving severe burns when they crawlor walk barefoot on them. The City Council’s main chamberhas a dingily ornate feel. The massive wooden dais is impressive from afar; upclose you see battered edges trimmed with tape. The ceiling features peelingpaint and an oval allegorical portrait thatis faded and grimy. The drapes that runfrom floor to ceiling, woven with theCouncil’s seal, are threadbare. By 10 a.m. a substantial crowd hasgathered in the chamber, most of themsitting in the rows of metal folding chairs,a few heading upstairs to the balcony. In-dividuals sign in at clerk’s desk to testifyat the hearing—but they’ll get their shotonly after city officials make their state-ments and answer questions. At least 60people register to talk. One wonders if

there will be time to hear them beforeanother hearing is supposed to start inthe same room. At 10:25 the hearing comes to order.Public Advocate Betsy Gotbaum, whoserves as presiding officer of the CityCouncil and is an ex officio memberof every committee, is making a rareappearance at a hearing. “Questionsremain about the health and environ-

mental risks” of crumb rubber infill,Gotbaum says, recalling that she has voiced “repeated concerns about theuse of synthetic turf in our city parks”dating back to April 2007, when her of-fice called for testing of the crumb rub-ber infill. Next, Councilwoman JessicaLappin of Manhattan, who introducedthe legislation calling for a warningabout black mats at playgrounds, tellsthe hearing, “They are safety mats, butthey’re not safe.” Then the Bloomberg administration—in the person of officials from three cityagencies—gets to have its say. The lateness of councilmembers isonly one of the concerns about pub-lic hearings, which, after all, are theprimary forum for New Yorkers to in-

teract with their government. Anothercritique is that the mayor’s staff alwaysgets to speak first. “That means theadministration gets to frame the issueand never has to respond to the publicafter it has had its say,” says one non-profit executive who frequently deals with the Council. Gotbaum leaves as the city starts itstestimony. Councilwoman Gale Brewerof Manhattan takes her seat and beginsscrolling through her BlackBerry. Aman in the front row of the audience issleeping. Nancy Clark, an assistant com-missioner at the Department of Healthand Mental Hygiene, describes a litera-ture review that DOHMH did of studiesthat looked at the toxicity of crumb rub-ber infill. Clark says one field that hasregistered higher than normal levels oflead—in East Harlem’s Thomas Jeffer-son Park—will be replaced. Her part-ner at the witness table, Parks Depart-ment first deputy commissioner LiamKavanagh, says Parks will stop using

crumb rubber infill but won’t remove itfrom any parks where it currently exists,except Thomas Jefferson. When Clark and Kavanagh are done with their prepared statements, thequestioning begins. There’s plenty ofposturing and repetition, but there arealso good questions—like Councilwom-an Helen Foster of the Bronx asking whether different kinds of mats are used

in places where it’s really hot, like Flori-da—and there's even a little drama:

Gioia: “Why is the city no longer usingcrumb rubber?”Kavanagh: “Heat levels were a con-cern.”Gioia: “Do you admit it was a mistake toinstall?”(long pause)Kavanagh: “No.”Gioia: “Why not?”Kavanagh: “It is a material that has mademany fields available for use; they havebeen safe fields.”

There’s still more drama when Lappinholds up a gory photo of the burns onetoddler suffered after walking on black

playground mats. At noon, chairwoman Foster closesthe sign-up sheet for members of thepublic who wish to speak. But her col-leagues are still asking questions of theadministration’s witnesses. Some ofthem are making speeches. Foster triesto get them to hurry it along. But theaudience is growing restless. “Excuseme, are you all gonna talk, and are we just gonna sit here?” yells a voice fromthe crowd. Foster yells back, “You’renot recognized!” Soon another discordant voice speaksup: Councilman Vincent Ignizio of StatenIsland, who thinks his colleagues’ billsare “a solution in search of a problem.”He adds, “In my view, synthetic turfought to be embraced. I welcome [suchfields] in my district.” The man in front row has drifted off tosleep again, listing off to his right.

W hile the public—and Felder—are justly annoyed at electedofficials’ late arrivals, councilmembersare sometimes asked to be in two plac-es at once. And while the committeeroom is conveniently located next to theCouncil chambers, allowing membersto shift between two hearings, manyCouncil hearings are a five-minute walkand elevator ride away in an office build-ing at 250 Broadway, across the streetfrom City Hall. This zany schedule is

one reason why counof whom make a sal year (Avella and Melirefused the 2006 rai$90,000) sometimes ning late or multitask In the committeePalma is the only one a.m. meeting of the Landmarks. She beats Jessica Lappin, who ipeople in the Parks ing next door. “Oncecilmembers] are hereboom boom,” a Landises John Liu, a memb

He’s right: After comLandmarks Subcommtwo witnesses and qu

lone item on its agendovations to a buildinginto a school, with a keep the roll open fomembers who are awroom,” Councilman MManhattan says. In that room, Igniziofake turf draws a mixtuboos. This prompts oguards to call out, “Ladthere’s no clapping ancut that out. Thank you Finally, a good twhearing, the public gtestify at this public hers for Parks executitian DiPalermo tells need a citywide policRowan, representing tRaiders football teamcan’t maintain grassIt’s rocks and glass wehe says. Stavros Xecoach, agrees. “The

changed our lives anfor kids of all ages tohe says.

The witnesses are flmittee is hearing fromfive speakers every fispeaker is timed, wit when to stop. Many ru very long. No councsponding to the public

Monday noon: The City Hall press corps occupies one corner of the Council chamber. The

eats are rarely packed. Photo: JM


5/17


SPRING 2009


A man named Steve Prestiani, sport-ng long dreadlocks, is called. He saysis name is Stevie and claims, “I am sim-ly representing the earth.” He’s againsturf. Richard Kassen, the father of theurn victim whose photo Lappin dis-layed, testifies, “Six children are admit-ed to the Cornell burn unit every year,urned on their feet and hands” fromlayground mats.

The meeting, due to end at 1 p.m.,nds at 2:30. Everyone on the list getschance to testify, but some witnesses

ave left before their turn comes. By thend, only the committee chair, Foster, ishere to listen. The other councilmem-ers have drifted away.

Some of them have ended up in thecommittee room next door for ameeting of the Economic Development

ommittee. The purpose of the gather-ng is for councilmembers to learn morebout how the city intends to spend fed-ral stimulus money. But they don’t learn

much. The hearing reflects another com-mon phenomenon at the Council’s public

earings: Sometimes the witnesses rep-esenting the mayor aren’t able or will-ng to be very cooperative.

After Chairman Thomas White Jr. ofQueens opens the hearing, Jeffrey Kay,

irector of the mayor’s Office of Opera-ons, delivers his testimony. He talksroadly about the mayor’s priorities in

pending the money: building infrastruc-ure, preventing cuts to core services,trengthening the markets where citiesell bonds to pay for capital projects andeveloping the workforce.When the questioning begins, the

ouncilmembers want to know more,ut Kay offers little.“How flexible is the money?”

White asks.

“We want as much flexibility aspossible,” says Kay, in part. “What role will City Council play?”Councilwoman Letitia James of Brook-lyn asks. “Good question,” Kay responds. “We will continue to have this conversation.”

Brewer asks about using some moneyto improve broadband access. Kay sayshe’ll follow up with her later.

White asks Kay, who serves on theboard of the Metropolitan Transporta-tion Authority, “Can you outline whichprojects the MTA would pursue?” to which Kay, with a nervous giggle, re-sponds, “I can’t.” Brewer asks about workforce devel-opment.

“We are discussing how to use job-re-training money. When we come up witha plan, we’ll let you know,” says Kay. Alan Gerson of Manhattan asks abouthow the plan will help “strengthen creditmarkets.” “It’s fair to say we’ll get back to you onthat,” Kay says again.

S ince its modern inception after theconsolidation of the five boroughsin 1898, the city’s legislature has been a work in progress. First it was a bicam-eral Municipal Assembly, then a Boardof Aldermen and finally the City Coun-cil. Its membership has fluctuated overthe years from 73 down to 17 and back

up to, in 1991, the current tally of 51. And its powers have been altered by atleast seven charter revisions. The sharpest shift came in 1989, afterthe U.S. Supreme Court ruled that thecity’s Board of Estimate was unconsti-tutional. The Board had, for 60 years,served as a sort of a superlegislaturefor the city, overseeing land use andbudget issues. The mayor, comptrol-

ler, City Council president and boroughpresidents all had voting power on theBoard—which meant that Staten Islandhad as much power as Brooklyn. To thecourt, this arrangement violated the“one person, one vote” principle. Afterthe ruling, the city decided to disbandthe Board and reassign its powers to themayor, Council and borough presidents. One area over which the Council ac-quired substantial technical authority was land use. The Council must approveall changes to the zoning map and zon-ing text, all urban-renewal plans, and thedisposition of certain buildings in thecity’s portfolio. It can also review specialzoning permits, landfills and city prop-erty sales and purchases. The land use powers are so broad

that there are three subcommittees todivvy up the work. Zoning and Land-marks met earlier on Monday. Now, asthe afternoon wears on, the third LandUse subcommittee, Planning, takesup an agenda of 15 items over at 250Broadway. All the deals under reviewinvolve transfers of property held bythe Department of Housing Preserva-tion and Development to private par-ties. One is a building being sold to cre-ate low-income housing for the elderly. Another is a previously approved condodeal with affordable units that, becauseof the economic downturn, is beingswitched to a rental building servingslightly different income groups.

Chair Daniel Garodnick, a Manhat-tan councilman, asks questions abouteach transaction: “What was the pro-cess of selection for the developer ofthis site?” “Is there any restriction onaffordability going forward?” But themost important detail in every case is whether each deal has the suppor t of

the councilmember in whose districtthe project falls. The subcommitteelearns that their Council colleagueshave signed off on nine of the projectson the agenda, so the panel approvesthem all in a single vote. One deal, in Al Vann’s district, is held over to thenext morning. Council opposition has helped reshapeland deals in recent years—as with the

Williamsburg-Greenpoint rezoning, in which David Yassky and Diana Reynasecured more affordable housing, or

the low-income units that former mem-ber Hiram Monserrate worked into the Willets Point development, or the schoolthat Garodnick himself won from a proj-ect on the East Side.

But these are the exceptions. Thefact that local councilmembers receivedeference doesn’t mean they have realmuscle. When the Board of Estimatedisappeared, most of its powers were divided between the mayor and Council—but they weren’t divided evenly. Underthe Board system, councilmembers who could align themselves with theirborough presidents, who in turn couldusually count on the other four boroughpresidents to back them up; together,they could block the mayor. Today,no such mechanism exists. When theBoard disappeared, the mayor escapedthe most powerful check on his power. The Council gained new authority, but itlost a useful tool. The way the FordhamUniversity political scientist Bruce Bergputs it is that the Council moved from be-

ing “a silent partner to a junior partner.” “They got power in land use, but nota lot, because the mayor has all thegoodies,” says Partnership for New York City president Kathryn W ylde, a veteran observer of city gover nment,referring to the mayor’s substantialpower to adjust city policy and budgetto reward helpful legislators. “The ad-ministration has shown it can cut deals

with individual councilmembers.” And even if the Council maintains uni-ty in opposing a land use project, its pow-

er is confined to its ability to say “No,” which doesn’t lend itself to creative ne-gotiating. “It’s hard for the Council to beproactive on zoning issues,” says BradLander, the longtime director of thePratt Center for Community Develop-ment and a candidate for a Council seatin Brooklyn. “‘No’ is a hard bargainingposition to have.” What limited leverage “no” gets youdepends on your will to say it. But theCouncil has not rejected a city land useproposal outright in a long time. Thatleads Lander to wonder “whether thethreat remains credible.”

W hen the Council’s official busi-ness of the day is done, manymembers turn to another job—that ofrunning for re-election or for higheroffice. According to the latest filings,candidates for the City Council (bothincumbents and newcomers) have al-ready raised $4.3 million for the 2009campaign, while the 16 current coun-

cilmembers who are running for otheroffices or have not declared which of-fice they’re seeking have raised a com-bined $14 million. On Monday evening, Yassky’s cam-paign for comptroller holds a fundraiserat an apartment on Riverside Drive in the West 70s. During the term limits debate, Yassky joined members Gale Brewer and Alan Gerson to propose an amendment

that would have calledon the issue. The ame while Brewer voted

limits extension, Yasskported it. That vote haa fair amount of criticis But it’s not on the mroom on Riverside Dris Marshall Bennett, aat Wolf Popper, who state treasurer for 16and cheese, Bennett there’ll be a runoff in ttroller race (other cthe race include Melinand David Weprin, a whom black voters wi After a half-hour of sting, the guests hear Y The evening is billed abut raising money is son d’être. Yassky discrating economy, pointhow drastically New Y will fall in the next yenificant numbers,” he to have a position of pnew financial marketp

“but we don’t really knto look like.” While it is early insouring economic climit harder for Yassky amoney—especially if one’s donors when thelection is this year, sa Yassky tells the crowdis the year for our city

Monday 12:30 p.m.: The clock ticks, the crowd thins, but many still wait to speak at the Parks Committee hearing. Photo: JM

“THE MAYOR HAS ALL THE GOODIES...THE ADMINISTRATION HAS SHOWN ITCAN CUT DEALS WITH INDIVIDUALCOUNCILMEMBERS.”


6/17


T he hour of the meeting comes,and Avella is there again—theonly councilman present. He and thestaff are chatting, and its clear that theCouncil’s central staff, who report toSpeaker Christine Quinn, are askinghim to do something he doesn’t wantto do (permit a member who missedMonday’s Zoning hearing to cast a vote). Such a disagreement is not un-usual. Avella is Quinn’s harshest criticon the Council; he also clashed withQuinn’s predecessor, Gifford Miller.(Miller is a member of the board ofCity Limits’ parent organization, CityFutures Inc.) Christine Quinn, who has represent-ed the West Village/Chelsea district onthe Council since 1999, became speak-

er in January 2006. The speaker is theprocedural manager and public face ofthe Council, deciding on committee as-signments and controlling the flow oflegislation. The speaker is elected bythe Council’s members, but they usu-ally vote in borough blocs at the behestof county Democratic leaders.

One of Avella’s beefs is that staffmembers hired and fired by Quinn’soffice run the operations of his ZoningSubcommittee and, he asserts, all theother Council panels. “Land Use staffdecides what’s on the agenda. I can’tput things on the agenda. I’ve been re-fused in the past,” he says. “And there’snothing I can do with the staff becausethe staff reports to the speaker.” Other councilmembers and formerCouncil staff take a more nuanced view. Under Miller, the Council beganallowing committee chairs to hire theirsenior committee staffer. And sourcessay that committee chairs are consult-ed on other committee hires too.

However, the final decision comesfrom the speaker or, rather, her staff. The power of the Council’s central staffis a fact of life, even for its leaders. Coun-cilmembers, especially those in higherpositions, depend on their staff. “Youcan’t do everything,” says one formercouncilmember. That means staff mem-bers can influence decision-making. “If

you want to retain good staff, then youcan’t overrule them every day.” After his chat with the staff, Avellaheads to a hearing at 250 Broadway. The Planning Committee gets goingand, once it has learned that HPD hassatisfied Vann by promising to “reviewthe request for a lower sales price” bythe man who is buying the city property,passes the matter unanimously. Moments later, the full Land UseCommittee—the largest that the Councilhas—gathers in the same space. Thereare so many members that three haveto sit at the witness table. The mood islight and collegial. The only matter on

which anyone testifies is the low-incomehousing for seniors going up in Robert Jackson’s Manhattan district. Jackson’s very pleased with the project, saying, “Isupport it 110 percent.” “Does that mean he gets an extra vote?” jokes Councilwoman Maria delCarmen Arroyo of the Bronx.

The committee votes 16-0 in favor ofthe project in Jackson’s district and sev-en other items that no one testified on. Then Vincent Ignizio enters the room,grabs a mic and says, “Yes, thank you,

I’d like to vote ‘Aye.’ “ 17-0.

Amoment later, Ignizio is in the nextroom telling Police CommissionerRaymond Kelly what a good job he is do-ing. He adds, “I’m sure you guys, like us,don’t get much appreciation.” The City Hall press corps, which oc-cupies two rooms on the first floor of the

building and a secondment, numbers at leasis rare to see more ththem at any Council hOne exception is whe walk over from 1 Poliing of Peter Vallone Committee. Today, bpresence, there are seers as well as TV peop The hearing is aboucan learn from last ytacks on Mumbai. Keland most of the common time. Kelly discusthe city has taken to

from the attacks, howed terrorism exercisesber and increased thsort of weaponry that bai. “We can’t focus on Vigilance, informationcooperation and an yield are key,” he says Vallone leads the qua lot of ground. He askcontainers in ports, thecuts, protecting hotephone communication

go elsewhere: Ignizioonry. Simcha Felderabout security in schosuggests better commpolice and neighborhecho Vallone in one reKelly effusively. Feldegiving to a new levelfeel good, comfortable you’re running things

“YOU CAN’T DO EVERYTHING,”

SAYS ONE FORMER COUNCILMETHAT MEANS STAFF MEMBERS INFLUENCE DECISION-MAKING“IF YOU WANT TO RETAIN GOODSTAFF, THEN YOU CAN’T OVERRTHEM EVERY DAY.”

II. TUESDAYThe City Council’s schedule of public hearings is supposed to be made public

at least three days before each event takes place. The idea is that the public

ought to be given the right to attend. But this rule is routinely broken; at least

four hearings now on the calendar for this week weren’t listed by the preceding

Friday. Such is the case for today’s 9:45 a.m. gathering of the PlanningSubcommittee, which is reconvening from Monday afternoon to consider that

deal in Al Vann’s district to which the councilman had objected. It’s a rush

job—the full Land Use Committee is due to meet 15 minutes later to approve

all the matters that the Zoning, Landmarks and Planning subcommittees have

approved in the preceding 24 hours. The idea is to have all those measures

ready for full Council approval when the entire 51-member body meets on

Wednesday for one of its twice monthly general or “stated” meetings.

uesday 9:45 a.m.: Waiting in the committee room...

r committee members. Photo JM


7/17


2 SPRING 2009


nue to serve as police commissioneror another term? Will you give us aommitment now?”

“I serve at the pleasure of the mayor,”the commissioner’s response.“But for his next term?” Felder, a big

loomberg backer, asks.“I serve at the pleasure of the mayor.”

When Kelly is done, cameras followim and Vallone into the hallway, and

he commissioner answers some ques-ons. When Vallone returns to the chairo continue the hearing, the room haslmost emptied.

M eanwhile, at 250 Broadway, anaudience member who madehe mistake of coming into the Firend Criminal Justice Services Commit-

ee hearing with a cup of coffee getsprompt reprimand. “You know the

ules. This is not your first time here,”guard admonishes her. Chairman

Miguel Martinez, sipping unmolestedrom his own large cup of coffee, is onis cell phone trying to get his com-

mittee together for a meeting that islready 10 minutes behind schedule.A couple of minutes later, Martinez

tarts the meeting, which is supposedo discuss the FDNY fire alarm inspec-on unit and then take up a bill to outlawovelty lighters, which some considersafety hazard because they look like

oys and appeal to children.

At first, the questioning seems ob-essed with minutiae—Martinez tries tonderstand what the inspection regime

for new construction, versus a shop-ing mall, versus a commercial buildinghat has several different institutions orrganizations occupying separate spaces

within the building. But the seriousnessf the issue emerges. Martinez asks if6 inspectors—how many there are city-

wide—are enough to cover all the build-ings that come due for inspections in thecity each year. “You’re asking, is 16 inspectors enoughto handle this workload, and the answeris absolutely not,” Chief Richard Tobinsays. He explains that inspectors haveno cars to use and are expected to get totheir inspection sites via mass transit. Being a Council witness is not alwaysa walk in the park. As the hearing con-tinues, Robert Rampino, the head of theinspectors, claims his staff follows no setguidelines on what constitutes a viola-tion. The councilmembers look aghast. Tobin finally interrupts his subordinate, visibly upset. “Well, he’s very confusing when he speaks,” he says, motioning toward Rampino. “I can tell you right now,

it’s not an ambiguous process. I agree with you—when I was listening to him,

my head was spinning. No, there is aguidebook the inspectors follow. It’s allclearly delineated.” Rampino sits stoically. It does notseem like it will be a pleasant ride backto FDNY headquarters.

Just as hearings can appear on thecalendar with little notice, they canalso disappear with no fanfare. Tuesday was supposed to see a meeting of Coun-cilman Bill de Blasio’s General WelfareCommittee at 10 a.m., but it was calledoff. Instead, Brooklyn’s de Blasio is

headlining a press conference on thesteps of the Department of Educationheadquarters at the Tweed Courthouse,directly behind City Hall. It’s to protesta Bloomberg administration cost-cuttingplan that would move children from kin-dergarten classes in Administration forChildren’s Services–run day care cen-ters into kindergarten classes in publicschools, which opponents say will exac-

erbate school overcrowding. Several dozen preschoolers havebeen bused in before de Blasio arrives.“What do we want? Day care! When do we want it? Now!” goes the chant. Pressconferences and rallies are common-place in and around City Hall; on somedays the steps of City Hall witness a pa-rade of groups that occupy the area fora few minutes, display banners, maketheir case and then yield to the nextgroup. In fact, as de Blasio rallies thekids at Tweed, his colleagues JamesGennaro and David Yassky are appear-ing on the City Hall steps to discussa bill promoting green roofs before amore modest crowd. The 6-foot-5 de Blasio arrives andpauses to prepare his remarks, looking

even taller than usual amid the sea ofchildren. After first considering a racefor Brooklyn borough president this year, de Blasio is now running for publicadvocate, as is colleague Eric Gioia. Fourcouncilmembers are running for comp-troller. One wonders if it’s going to beawkward to have so many rivals workingon the Council. Along with Brooklyn’s Letitia James,de Blasio was a leader of the Council fac-tion that opposed extending term limitslast fall. Councilmembers and stafferssay privately that there are still hurt feel-ings over the tone of comments the twomade during the debate—feelings thatcould hinder both as they try to get leg-islation passed during an election year.

But de Blasio is skilled at framing is-sues in a way that plays well to the me-dia, which might be a more importantasset for him now than anything the CityCouncil can do to help him “What is theDOE thinking?” de Blasio laments to thecrowd at Tweed, criticizing a policy that

means there are “some 3,000 kindergar-ten-age kids who don’t know what theirfate is going to be!” Then James takes thepodium to talk about children “who willbe forced into the street.” The crowd, co-incidentally, is forcing the press into thestreet. One of de Blasio’s staffers pleads with a press aide from the Council ofSchool Supervisors and Administrators:“I really need your help getting people to

stay on the sidewalk,” she says. “If some-one gets killed...”

Behind the speakers, most of the signsthe protesters hold say things like “Chil-dren are our future. Don’t cut America’sfuture.” Of course, the day care issue isabout jobs too. But while James men-tions the potential layoffs associated withthe city’s new policy, most of the speak-ers focus on the kiddies. That doesn’tmake the unions happy: The next day,a labor official is overheard in the CityHall lobby complaining to a friend thathe thought de Blasio overemphasizedthe impact of the proposed changes onchildren and didn’t talk enough aboutthe plight of workers.

Councilman Vincent Gentile ofBrooklyn is the first to cross CityHall to the mayor’s side for the 1 p.m.bill signing in the Blue Room, the cer-emonial setting for the mayor’s pressconferences and other public events.He’s there because the mayor is set toink a bill that will extend health ben-efits to the family of a Department of

Environmental Protection worker fromGentile’s district who died on the job. Jessica Lappin and Queen’s Leroy Com-rie join Gentile near the podium. Theyare there as sponsors of other mea-sures the mayor will sign today aimedat improving the enforcement of safetyregulations at construction sites. Late as usual, Bloomberg strides in,shaking hands as cameras click. “This

is a ceremony that takes place when-ever there are bills that the City Coun-

cil passes that the mayor doesn’t veto,”he says. It was a joke, but the quip wasaccurate. The mayor’s ability to blockCouncil legislation is, while not abso-lute, considerable. As the mayor speaks, the Council’sCivil Service and Labor Committee ismeeting to approve a veto override that will go to the full Council on Wednes-day. It’s for a measure that amends theresidency requirement for city employ-ees who belong to District Council 37,allowing members who’ve completedtwo years on the job to live in six coun-ties outside the city, just as police offi-cers, firefighters and some other city workers can. Bloomberg has vetoed52 bills during his mayoralty and theCouncil has overridden him 49 times(see Overriding Concern, p.19). The vast majority of those vetoes and over-rides took place during Bloomberg’sfirst term under Gifford Miller’s tenureas speaker. But those numbers don’t capture how

many bills never saw the light of daybecause their support was shy of a veto-proof majority—at least 34 votes, andmore than that if the Council wants todefend against the mayor’s pressuringone or two more members to side withhim. Nor do they reflect legislative dancesteps like last year’s move by the Councilto split an e-waste bill into two parts sothe mayor could sign one containing as-

pects he liked and vetencompassed policies

2006, the state’s higheeven if his veto is ovberg can choose to nothe thinks conflicts witconstitutions. There’s it: In New York’s strothe City Council is the Bloomberg signs thfamily of the dead Da fistful of pens to siand then passing themaround him. Next upthat Lappin and Comrnally, he moves to a larestrict engine idlingthe measure as a wiseous public health thre “We tried to do thecongestion pricing,” hour best with the sta we’re still working on But it is unlikely wants to vote on cagain. When it took dangerous matter last

cil was assured that t would also vote on anthe plan. In the end, place in Albany. So tho who voted “yes” stucfirst, got no backup ano new policy to show Quinn’s fans praiseand legislative skill in gsome councilmember

“I REALLY NEED YOUR HELP GETTINGPEOPLE TO STAY ON THE SIDEWALK,”THE PRESS AIDE PLEADS. “IFSOMEONE GETS KILLED...”

Tuesday 1 p.m.: Bloomberg signs bills as Jessica Lappin and Buildings Commissioner Robert LiMandri look on. 1:45 p.m. Di

and gets few answers—about how minority-led firms might benefit from federal stimulus money. Photos: JM, Chloe Tribich


8/17


4 SPRING 2009


eel as though she hung them out to dry.The race to clear the decks before

Wednesday’s stated meeting means thatt 1 p.m., there are four hearings, involv-ng six committees, scheduled. In reality,with councilmembers only able to be in

ne place at a time, this means membersre flying from room to room and hear-ngs are starting late or running withkeleton crews.

At 250 Broadway, two hearings are un-er way. The Governmental Operationsommittee is holding a brief meeting toend to the full Council a bill requiringtreet fairs to recycle their garbage. Mean-

while, in a packed room on the 14th floor,hearing of the Committee on Housing

nd Buildings is taking place. Council-man Lewis Fidler and HPD deputy com-

missioner Joseph Rosenberg are tusslingver a Council bill that would give a taxreak to the Electchester cooperativeousing development in Queens. The500-unit development, launched in 1949y the International Brotherhood of Elec-rical Workers to house tradesmen andheir families, has seen fees soar nearly0 percent over the past several yearsecause—thanks to a legal loophole—aroperty tax exemption that covered theomplex over most its lifespan lapsed.

First Fidler and Rosenberg wrestlever whether the city is abandonings commitment to build or preserve65,000 units of affordable housing.idler thinks it is. Rosenberg says it’sot. Then Fidler wants to know whylectchester lost its tax protection

when other similar developments didot. Rosenberg has no answer.When the city is done testifying, its

epresentatives leave. Then it’s the pub-c’s turn. Some talk about Electchester.ut one witness comes forward to pres-

nt something else: complaints aboutow her Mitchell-Lama building is run.he chairman, Erik Mar tin Dilan, letser vent and then says that he is assign-

ng one of his aides to work with hernd will hold an oversight hearing on

HPD’s monitoring of Mitchell-Lamaevelopments. The Electchester resi-ents cheer, apparently glad to see any

member of the public getting the atten-

tion of official New York. Back at City Hall, the TransportationCommittee is racing too. It holds a hastymeeting to pass a bill requiring both yel-low and livery cabs to post a passenger’sbill of rights. Then it convenes a jointhearing with the Contracts and CivilRights committees. The subject matter for the joint get-to-gether harks back to Monday’s meetingof the Economic Development Commit-tee: whether public agencies are goingto use federal stimulus money to awardcontracts to Minority and Women-ownedBusiness Enterprises, or MWBEs. The first order of business is slappingaround the MTA, which has refused toattend the hearing. “I am concerned andinsulted that the MTA wasn’t here,” says

the Bronx’s Larry Seabrook, chair of theCivil Rights Committee. “We need to putsome heat underneath them.” But those who have chosen to attendalso get some heat. When Marla Simpson,head of the mayor’s Office of ContractServices, takes the stand, TransportationCommittee chair John Liu asks her aboutthe Department of Transportation’s com-pliance with local laws that set out goalsfor participation of MWBEs, and says, with a tinge of irritation, “Last time, thegoals were not met.”

“We think DOT is doing fine,” Simp-son contends. “If a contract is done bycompetitive single bid and a MWBEdoesn’t win, there’s not much we cando.” Simpson also clashes with Letitia James, who asks what role the CityCouncil will have in oversight of stim-ulus money. Basically none, is whatSimpson says, “same role as in all con-tracts.” James looks angry. After Simpson departs, Sandra Wilkin, president of the Women Build-

ers Council, testifies—and illustrates why the public is worth listening to. Wilkin brings up some practical bar-riers that minority- and women-ownedfirms face. She notes that such entitiesare unlikely to benefit from stimulusmoney because that cash will requirehigh levels of bonding and expensiveinsurance. Liu responds: “You’ve givenus all a reality check.”

But hearings can quickly turn frominteresting exchanges of informationto something less illuminating. A hintof this comes when Seabrook speaksat length about why the MWBE pro-gram doesn’t work and how it “pun-ishes success.” He gets animated; hegestures; he says things like “Peopledo what they want when they want!” The witnesses fire back in kind and atsimilar length. Everyone is agreeingon everything. The clock is ticking. The conversation takes on the toneof a group of friends complaining. Atabout 4 p.m., the hearing ends. Thecleaning staff descends. Another reason to be skeptical aboutthe value of public hearings is that theyattract a very small number of the people

councilmembers are supposed to serve.“Look around,” one former councilmem-ber said, gesturing around a restaurant.“No one in here has ever been to a CityCouncil hearing. They’re normal New Yorkers. They’re going to pick up theirkids and cook dinner, go out with theirboyfriend or girlfriend,” he said. As togoverning, “That’s our job.”

Several hours after the Council’s offi-cial business has ended for the day,David Yassky is leaning against a door- way in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, watchinga presentation about a proposed zoningchange to nearby blocks. Some resi-dents worry they will be pushed out bynew luxury development. The meeting was called for 6 p.m., but it’s close to 7 when Yassky gets his chance to speak.“We want more housing but don’t wantcurrent residents to lose their homes,” Yassky says. He talks about his experi-ence during the Williamsburg-Green-point rezoning. “We’ve got a lot of work

to do,” he says, “but I’m due at an event inmidtown—now—so I’m going to run.” De Blasio also sent a representa-tive to the meeting, but by the time Yassky departs, de Blasio’s stand-inhas already had to leave. Another rep-resentative sent by an assemblymanapologizes that more elected officialshaven’t shown up in person.

“They’re all on the circuit,” he explains.

THE TEST RUNLittle election, big problems

The election last fall of Joseph Addabbo to the New York State Senateopened up his Council seat for what became a hotly contested race, oneof three special elections for the Council that took place on February24 in the opening act of t he 2009 municipal election season. The battleattracted significant local attention and raised a number of issues con-cerning ballot access and campaign finance that could echo in Councilraces citywide later this year. The 32nd District encompasses a large and, in sections, geographi-cally isolated area. Roughly half of the district’s registered voters livein the Rockaways, while the remainder are located in Broad Channel,Howard Beach, Woodhaven and Ozone Park. Addabbo, who is a Democrat, defeated two-term Republican coun-cilmember Alfonse Stabile to win the Council seat in 2001. When Add-abbo vacated the seat, Queens Republicans saw an opportunity to re-claim lost ground. They appear to have been correct: Eric Ulrich, only24, a Republican district leader, former Catholic seminarian and CityCouncil staffer, won handily, defeating his closest opponent, Democrat-ic district leader Lew Simon, by more than 12 percent.

Strictly speaking, however, special elections are nonpartisan. Ona one-time basis, candidates are required to declare membership inan independent party with no Democratic or Republican affiliations.Seven candidates had originally entered the race. But in the weeksleading up to the election, Geraldine Chapey, a Democratic districtleader from the Rockaways, filed through proxies two successfulchallenges to the ballot qualifications of two other candidates,

creating enormous controversy. Chapey did not return phone callsseeking comment. Frank Gulluscio, a longtime Democratic activist and former Addabbostaff member, was thrown off the ballot because of questions regard-ing some of the signatures he collected. Glenn DiResto, a retired NYPDlieutenant with no prior political experience and no Democratic or Re-publican affiliation, was disqualified because the name of his declaredparty, Families First, allegedly could have been confused by voters withthe Working Families Party. Another candidate, Samuel DiBernardo, was

disqualified earlier by the Board of Elections becausemissing from his petition. Ballot challenges are a tried-and-true practice in cfour candidates in one of the other February 24 Coudisqualified because of ballot challenges; one of theed, necessitating the use of paper ballots on Election

But some of the 32nd District candidates, local bhave questioned the fairness of challenges during specoperate on a compressed timeline and with smaller ca

DiResto’s case has garnered particular attentioChapey’s proxy’s challenge, he appeared at a Febrfront of the Board of Elections because the validity ofbeen challenged. The board found that DiResto still number of signatures, but the lawyer representing tDiResto’s spot on the ballot then raised a complaint DiResto’s party.

DiResto was removed immediately. Unlike Frank Ggiven an opportunity to change the name of his panotice from the Board of Elections, DiResto never got

asked why, Matt Graves at the Board of Elections saquestion. I don’t know.”DiResto told City Limits that after being removed

February 3, he appealed to state court. On February 1away from the election, DiResto was restored to the immediately appealed the decision. DiResto was remoday, February 20. At this point, he felt it was fruitlesspellate court’s decision, because the election was setTuesday.

Because of challenges from Chapey’s campaignwas unable to obtain the public matching campaign qualified. He says the court battle cost him $10,000. Special elections might be special, but they are the three people elected February 24, 15 out of 51 coreached the Council via special elections. Such raceto enter the Council without securing as many votesa regular election. The District 32 special election atvoters; in 2001’s general election, 31,000 votes were cil seat. Once on the Council, people who win in specenjoy the considerable advantages of incumbency, into win re-election.

The issues that generated conflict in the 32nd race,more than special elections. Challenges often knock inoff the ballot in Council races; there were 32 such characes in 2005. The system for getting and staying on tfavors candidates with money or clubhouse connecthave access to election lawyers and people who canatures. District 32 candidates had to collect a little

signatures to get on the ballot. Successful candidates uto four times the number required, just to discourage According to Election Day interviews, issues liketer mass transit and looming bridge tolls were on pthey headed to the polls. But disagreement with Chhave helped push the seat to the Republican newcreceived 3,500 votes; Chapey placed a distant thiseat will be in play again this fall, when voters willto a full four-year term. —Sarah Crean

Only 8,000 voters decided who’d next represent District 32,from Broad Channel to the boardwalk. Photo: Sarah Crean


9/17


T he momentary confusion aboutthe lab aside, Jackson is in veryfamiliar territory. He is attending a sci-ence fair at PS/IS 187 on Cabrini Bou-levard, the school that all three of hisdaughters attended. He served on theschool’s parent association for 19 yearsand the community school board for 15 years. He seems to know ever ybody—the security guard he went to highschool with, the principal who was oncea PS 187 student herself, the facultymembers with whom he trades updateson sports injuries. It was his experienceas a parent here that led him to joinother parents in a lawsuit against thestate of New York arguing that Albany’sschool-funding formulas cheat urbankids. The so-called Campaign for Fiscal

Equity lawsuit resulted in a huge—if as yet only par tially fulfilled—promise bythe state to spend billions more on New York City’s schoolchildren. He finds the computer room. Thereare 20 or so sleek-looking machines,several of them in use. On the wall isa plaque thanking Jackson and MiguelMartinez, the councilman from the adja-cent district; since residents of both dis-tricts might attend the school, togetherthey allocated $250,000 of their discre-tionary funds to the room. Jackson sayshe subsequently dedicated $300,000 tothe school to purchase computers forindividual classrooms.

He trots back downstairs to the gym, wearing—as he always does—a blackbutton in his lapel that says, “Robert Jackson/City Council.” It’s the 53rd running of the PS/IS 187science fair. Every class has collaborat-ed on four or five experiments. Ben and Andy, two second-graders, are waiting. They will be the first to show their proj-

ect to Jackson. They are soon to receive what Schools Chancellor Joel Klein andothers have come to expect from thechair of the Council’s Education Com-mittee: a good grilling. Ben and Andy tested whether plantscontaminated with road salt would growas successfully as plants treated only with water. “How often did you water the

plants?” Jackson wants to know. Whatkind of plants are they? How many kids worked on this? “What is your conclu-sion?” When Ben replies that they con-cluded cities ought to use sand ratherthan salt on icy roads, Jackson says the-atrically, “Sand? How do you know that will work?” “We guessed,” offers Andy. The councilman’s eyes grow wide inmock surprise. “You guessed?”

Jackson is one of several guests invitedto tour the fair. Most are doing a cursory job of it. He is not. He wants details onthe experiment testing the impact of an-tifreeze on plant life and the one next toit analyzing the effect gravity has on howseeds grow. Then it’s on to the eighth-graders. “Good,” Jackson says to me,

“now I can ask some hard questions.” As an institution, history, rules and for-mal authority matter on the City Coun-cil. But on a day-to-day basis, the body isshaped by personalities. Jackson’s is oneof the largest.

I t’s 10:45 a.m. when Jackson leavesthe school en route to a FinanceCommittee meeting at 11. The daysof the Council’s twice-monthly statedmeetings are the busiest, he says. There are always last-minute com-mittee meetings, the speaker’s pressconference, rallies on the steps and

the meeting itself. For Jackson, to-day’s schedule after the meeting in-cludes huddling with a deputy mayor;an event in Crown Heights, Brooklyn;and a precinct council meeting back inthe district. That’s today. As Jackson walks, he’slooking at tomorrow on one of the twoBlackBerrys he carries—one for officialbusiness and the other for private mat-

ters and his re-electioa.m., he’s to attend a fuInc. in midtown. Fromsupposed to make funhis car. At 10, Larry SBloomberg political omeet him. “I’m assumtalk about the Bloom Jackson says. The speCity speech is at noonthis delegation here fince in China. I was thago,” says Jackson, wChinese and who is cocil’s Black, Latino andgroup that compriseCouncil and wields c“We’re trying to get a

speaker and the mayomorrow morning.” Jackson, a Quinn aleight Council committucation and also serveHousing, Contracts, EUse and Sanitation pamember of the speak working group and ogotiating committee. percent of my time is Jackson says as he driry Hudson. “It’s too mto be on six [comm“But when you’re the

people aligned with yoespecially Rules and E The Education Com

cil’s third largest, behFinance. It also has a Jackson says Quinn hto dictate what his comhe says, he has beenhiring of committee st Jackson’s Volvo run

AS AN INSTITUTION, HISTORY,RULES AND FORMAL AUTHORITMATTER ON THE CITY COUNCILBUT ON A DAY-TO-DAY BASIS, TBODY IS SHAPED BY PERSONAL

III. WEDNESDAY“Now where the hell is it?” Robert Jackson asks, smiling. He sprints up a flight

a stairs, then down one. He opens the door to the gymnasium and asks for help.

He is looking for a computer lab he helped build. Turns out he was right the first

time—it’s two flights up.

Wednesday 11:30 a.m.: Robert Jackson, with members Vincent Ignizio on his right and Alann and Leroy Comrie on his left, at a Finance Committee hearing. Photo: JM


10/17


8 SPRING 2009


’s 11:15. “I try not to be late, but some-mes I am,” Jackson says. “But I try noto because I don’t like to be late. I don’tke it when my staff is late.”Being late is one thing. Being late and

oting “aye on all” is something else al-ogether, and that seems to happen quiteften at the Council. Simcha Felder tellsf a time when he sat at a hearing, signedis name to a blank piece of paper, thenassed it around the room. When itame back with everyone’s signaturesn it, Felder wrote, “I support Simchaelder for Speaker” at the top. The onlyerson who asked what it was he wasgning was Staten Island’s James Oddo,

he Council minority leader.Has Jackson ever voted for something

without knowing what it was? “It hap-ens,” he says, referring to his experi-nce on Land Use. “But everything is

etted out in subcommittees. All of theoning matters have been vetted out.’s more of a formality. If you have aoncern, you raise it in subcommit-ee. That’s when they’re going to beealt with.” Many subcommittee votes,hough, are also unanimous.

A t City Hall, one committee meet-ing has already come and gone:

The Health Committee convenedbriefly to approve a bill permittingpublic access to inspection reports on water tanks. Now, with sun bleedinginto the room from behind the drapesand curtains, the Finance Committeeis meeting to hear an application for aBedford-Stuyvesant Business Improve-ment District and to approve a resolu-tion reallocating some money fromlast year’s budget. Before the meetingstarts, one of the men from the BIDspeaks to a Council aide. “How’s it com-ing along?” the aide asks. “We’ve hadsome people try to give us resistance,but we’ve broken it down,” says theBID guy. “They’re not here today.”

Very few people are, in fact, there. Who could be? It’s 11:30 on a Wednes-day. New York conducts almost all itsofficial business during hours when

most constituents are at work. Otherlarge cities—like Boston, Chicago andLos Angeles—also usually work 9 to 5.Smaller municipalities like Yonkers; Pat-erson, N.J.; Hartford, Conn.; and Spring-field, Mass., convene at least some oftheir hearings at night. Some New Yorkcouncilmembers do hold evening fo-rums back in their districts so they canhear from a wider ranger of people.

Toting a huge bag of mail that hisstaff has gathered for him to review, Jackson arrives. He scans some paper- work. One is a document listing alloca-tions of member items from last year’sbudget. Some are only getting vettednow, thanks in part to the scandal thaterupted last spring over the Council’sallocating money to fictitious organiza-tions so the speaker could dispense thecash later on. Jackson is required tosign a document certifying that he hasno personal connection to any of theagencies being funded. Jackson learns on one BlackBerrythat a new candidate has entered therace to unseat him. He replies on theother to an invitation to the openingday of a Little League in his district.

“Yes,” he texts, then jokes, “especiallyin an election year.” He receives a legalmemo from the counsel to his Educa-tion Committee about the EducationConstruction Fund. “They didn’t wantto give it to me in writing,” Jacksonsays, but he demanded, so they did. Then one of Quinn’s press aides asks Jackson to approve a quote for a pressrelease about the veto override on theDC 37 residency legislation, which theCouncil will approve shortly. Meanwhile, the men organizing theBed-Stuy BID are testifying. No one’spaying much attention. “Excuse me,guys, can I just interrupt for one min-ute?” the Finance chair, David Weprin,asks the BID people. He wants to voteon the budget bill. “We have a quor um,” Weprin says. “I know some membershave to leave.” The clerk calls the roll,members vote and the testimony con-tinues, but six members take their cueto depart. As the hearing ends, several mem-

bers head out to a press conference onthe City Hall steps. But Jackson doesn’thave much chance to participate. On theplaza in front of the building, he meetsBarbara Lowry, a neighborhood activist, who tells him that one of the arts organi-zations he and Miguel Martinez fundedlast year has folded; she wants Jacksonto find another cultural group in the dis-trict to take the $7,000 the two council-

members gave. Time for lunch. Jackson heads to adeli a block from City Hall; it’s his regu-lar place. “You have to go like four blocksto get decent Chinese food,” he notes.Cheeseburger and fries in hand, hestrides back to City Hall, his cell phoneto his ear, talking to a staffer about whatto do with the money that the defunctarts group can no longer use. “I wouldlike to see that money allocated to a do-mestic violence unit,” he tells the aide.

A piece of advice Jackson gives newcouncilmembers is to always at-tend the Council speaker’s traditionalpre-stated-meeting press conference.It’s handy, he says, to know what piecesof legislation the speaker is highlight-

ing and what questions the press asksabout them. What he doesn’t say but isalso true is that showing up could get your face into the papers and will mostlikely buttress your relationship withthe speaker. The legislation Quinn is highlightingtoday includes the measure to make wa-ter tank inspection records public, thelivery cab rider’s bill of rights, the re-quirement that street fairs recycle their

garbage and the override of the mayor’s veto of the DC 37 residency require-ment, which is in a bill called Intro 837. “I want to thank Councilmember Rob-ert Jackson for his work and sponsor-ship of Intro 837,” Quinn says, callinghim “one of the strongest friends of la-bor” on the Council. Indeed, before hiselection, Jackson worked for the PublicEmployees Federation for 20 years. Hissponsorship of the DC 37 bill is a bitironic, however, since he was originallyan opponent of the measure. Many onthe Council resisted when Bloombergand DC 37 agreed to lift the residencyrequirement as part of their 2006 con-tract negotiations; the Council wasn’tabout to surrender some of its powerto set city policy. DC 37, angry at the

Council’s hesitation, threatened to cam-paign against anyone who failed to sup-port it. But Jackson was concerned thatcity residents would miss out on jobs ifanyone from Rockland to Suffolk couldapply for them. The compromise billincluded a clause requiring workers tolive in the city for the first two years oftheir employment. Bloomberg vetoed itbecause he felt the residency policy wasa collective bargaining issue over which

he had authority. “We’ve reached a coso happy to hear that,”Quinn introduces himthe 45,000 workers tocity, but if everyone el why can’t members of There are 10 or so and they ask a few qu veto override. Most oence, however, bogs dingly arcane discussio water tanks.

T he agenda for tp.m. stated mearound until 2. Normdraft is ready earlierone of Jackson’s sta

he and the boss usuaof agenda items on town on stated-meetcan always change atQuinn’s people get wois not going to pass orup with a land use apseveral reforms Quinshe took over the spto hold bimonthly camembers can private

OVERRIDING CONCERNSince Mayor Bloomberg took office in 2002, he has vetoed52 City Council acts. The Council has overridden him 49

times. Most of the vetoes—and overrides—took placeduring the mayor’s first term.

TOP DOLLARSEvery year, councilmembers allocate general difunds, as well as money targeted for youths and

capital funding. Here are the top 10 allocators fo

*Has since left the Council for Congress. Sources: New York City CoSource: New York City Council.

veto overridden

veto stood2009

2008

2007

2006

2005

2004

2003

2002

Jessica Lappin

James Sanders

Larry Seabrook

Rosie Mendez

Michael McMahon*

Melissa Mark-Viverito

Inez Dickens

Lewis Fidler

David Weprin

Domenic Recchia

$8,368,614

$8,944,964

$9,173,339

$9,401,164

$9,410,464

$9,716,464

$9,836,964

$10,039,464

$18

Wednesday 3 p.m.: Jackson reads over the agenda for the biweekly stated meeting—a

ate of bills and land use items on which not a single "no" vote will be cast. Photo: JM


11/17


0 SPRING 2009


erns about a measure. “It gives peoplevery clear place where they can go

sk questions and flesh out issues,”Quinn tells City Limits.

As it is, on this meeting day, severaltaff members huddle after the agendaoes around because something impor-ant was left off. They brainstorm ways toet the item on the agenda. This is notmple, because elected councilmembersre the only ones authorized to do that.

On the agenda Wednesday are re-uests to consider appointments to theichmond County Board of Electionsnd city Board of Health; communica-ons from the mayor on the financiallan, expense budget, contract budgetnd capital budget; six land use mat-ers being sent to committee; eight

and use items coming out of commit-

ee for final approval; and four billseady to become laws.

Public Advocate Betsy Gotbaum, seat-d at an ornamental chair high on theais, runs through the agenda, but it’s

Quinn who calls the shots—identifyingems to be voted on and assigning may-

ral messages and new bills to the ap-ropriate committees. The other coun-ilmembers are seated in what seemske a random pattern—not by borough,eniority or name—but is not. “There’sreason for where everybody sits,” says

ames Vacca of the Bronx. “But I don’tnow what the reason is.” The 48 members on the Council thisay (three seats are vacant at the time)

include 10 Latinos, 13 blacks, one Asian American and 24 non-Latino whites. They are 17 women and 31 men. Brook-lyn has 16 members; Queens, 12; Man-hattan, 10; the Bronx, eight; and StatenIsland, two. None of the votes being taken are inthe slightest doubt; everything is goingto pass by an overwhelming margin. “Ican’t really explain it,” says Quinn whenasked about the unanimity the Councilexhibits. “There’s been more votes witha higher number of negative votes sinceI’ve become speaker and that’s some-thing I’m proud of because we shouldlook at issues that are tough.” What’s interesting is how membersdistinguish themselves in a body thatnearly always acts unanimously. After

Jackson gets credit for the veto override

on the DC 37 residency bill, Bill de Bla-sio one-ups him slightly by referring tothe other city unions whose membersstill must live in the five boroughs. “Ilook forward to working with my col-leagues to craft true parity,” he says. Fi-dler then jumps in with the simple “It’s

always a pleasure to override a mayoral veto.” But there’s collegiality too. Thereare a lot of long handshakes and arms wrapped around shoulders. When the votes are counted, it’s 47-0in favor—except for the livery cab rid-er’s bill of rights, on which Peter Vallone Jr. abstains. That passes 46-0-1. (HelenFoster is excused from the meeting.) Then it’s on to new business, meaning

new laws. Councilmembers introducesome 15 resolutions, 10 bills and 26 newland use items. A few talk about their pro-posals. Michael Nelson from Brooklynpitches Intro 926, which would requirethe Sanitation Police to take a pictureas proof of their claim that a propertyowner had put out too much garbage.Simcha Felder says Res. 1805 would callfor a study of the feasibility of universal voter registration. When the meeting ends, Jackson files with the Council clerk a sheet indicating which of the new bills he will sign on toas a co-sponsor. Then he gets a call fromMcInerney about that $7,000 grant tothe defunct arts group. The city is say-ing the money, since it’s been unspent,is not available. But McInerney feels

that if Jackson and Martinez team up,they can shake it loose. To the untrained observer, the meet-ing seems to have gone smoothly. Butthe behind-the-scenes maneuveringmust have been considerable. One ofQuinn’s staffers, passing a friend on thestairs as the meeting breaks up, offers astressed-out sigh. “Days like this I die,”he quips.

A n hour later, his car crossing theBrooklyn Bridge, Jackson is on thephone again. The governor of Hunanprovince has hurt his back, so he’s can-celing the next day’s planned get-togeth-er with the speaker. Jackson’s aides wantthe councilman to go to a press confer-ence the next day, but Jackson declines,saying the organizers sent notice too late. Then there’s talk about the weekend’sNew York State Association of Black andPuerto Rican Legislators retreat in Alba-ny; Jackson wants to make sure he meets with an association of minority contrac-

tors while he’s upstate. “I’m running forre-election,” he reminds the staffer onthe other end, hinting at the need for thecontractors’ financial support. Jackson isnervous about fundraising in 2009, giventhe bad economy and new rules restrict-ing contributions from people “doingbusiness” with the city, like lobbyists andpeople associated with businesses andorganizations with which the city con-

tracts—traditional sources of campaigncash for incumbents.

Jackson swings the car though cen-tral Brooklyn. The next stop is a for umon preventing youth incarceration spon-sored by the Children’s Defense Fundat Medgar Evers College. It’s unclearat first why Jackson is racing out to anevent that is miles from his own district.“I’m the chair of the Education Commit-tee. I’m the co-chair of the Black, Lati-no and Asian caucus. C’mon man,” hesays. “Half our youth end up in prison. Isaid I’d come. To listen. They want meto listen to the youth. Sometimes we’vegot to listen.” As he strides down the aisle of theschool’s auditorium, there’s a panel ofteenagers onstage. One young girl, Can-dace Randall, talks about the trauma offoster childhood and advocates for kidsbeing kept with their families. Another, Adilka Pimentel, talks about the StudentSafety Act, which Jackson has spon-sored and would increase monitoringof the safety agents who work at publicschools and have been accused of over-

policing hallways. Jackson is a runner, by hobby andpersonality. In last year’s New YorkCity Marathon, he covered the final20 miles with a cramped calf muscle.He didn’t know until the race was donethat he’d torn his other calf muscle atsome point during the run. The les-son he took away from the experience,however, was that resting is a trap. “I

didn’t stop until mile 18, and then Imust have stopped five times between

then and the end of the race,” he says.“Next time, I’m not stopping.” This hard-charging approach hasearned Jackson a reputation as one ofthe hardest-working councilmembers.It has helped bring a certain focus tothe oversight hearings Jackson has con-ducted as Education Committee chair. Italso manifests itself in an often aggres-sive, sometimes confrontational person-al style. Jackson expects others to keepup with him. When it’s time for questions at Med-gar Evers, Jackson takes the mic. Ashe did at the science fair, he pressesthe panel on methodology, wanting toknow more about a youth survey theyconducted. He gently challenges the girl who criticized foster care. “I know, in myopinion, some foster parents aren’t in itfor the money,” he says. But she replies,“That’s been my experience.” Then he asks the panel what peoplein the room need to do to help pass thebill regulating school safety agents.

The panelists are confused by the ques-tion. “What do we need to do?” he asksagain, pointedly. But they’re still notsure what he means. After all, it’s hisown bill. “We have the support of mostof the Council...so we just need a hear-ing?” offers an uncertain Pimentel.

Jackson sits down. “I think whatthe councilmember was trying to getat but couldn’t really say was that we

need to get a rally toCity Hall,” Pimentel s

Jackson turns, smithat!” he says. But it Jackson e-mails his son the bill. He realizes who needs to get mocolleague Peter Vallonhis Public Safety Combeen pressured on it, sured him,” Jacksonthey need to pressureget so busy with othe Driving home alongrealizes he is too latecinct council meeting.fice to pick up any newoverstuffed bag in his

Getting the Studpassed will take moassistance. And it cthan 26 votes. One osons Jackson learnedthings done on the more than a mere mato have a veto-proof you’ve got to have a

“The mayor can alwtwo off,” he says. “T800-pound gorilla, aunited, we can’t defea

The secret to unmembers that standinleagues matters to thents. “What’s in it That’s the bottom line what people use as a b

Wednesday Noon: Jackson grabs lunch, makes contact, reallocates money. At right, ready for the science fair at PS/IS 187. P

THE OTHER COUNCILMEMBERSARE SEATED IN WHAT SEEMS LIKEA RANDOM PATTERN—NOT BYBOROUGH, SENIORITY OR NAME—BUT IS NOT. “THERE’S A REASON FORWHERE EVERYBODY SITS,” SAYS ONEMEMBER. “BUT I DON’T KNOW WHATTHE REASON IS.”


12/17


Jeff Lynch, Vacca’s chief of staff,

turns the car south toward I-95. Vac-ca makes a call about a woman who’sbeing fined $25,000 by her co-op board.He gets an e-mail saying that the CityIsland firehouse, which he is fightingto keep open, will be staf fed that night.Next, aide Bret Collazzi, sitting in back,has details on a property on Balcom Av-enue that Vacca believes is in violationof the building code. Vacca spent thetwo decades before his 2005 election asthe district manager of Bronx Commu-nity Board 10, and in some ways he nev-er left the job. Where Robert Jacksonspends 90 percent of his time downtownat City Hall, Vacca estimates he spendsno more than a third of a typical weekthere. It is a long drive, after all. What’smore, he’d rather be in the district. “My secret is, I do everythin g in myneighborhood. If my wife and I go out toeat, I do it here. I do my shopping here.My wife says, ‘I sent you out three hoursago.’ I come back with a litany of issues,” Vacca says. The office logs between 30

and 50 constituent cases a day. The keyto addressing them, Vacca says, is know-ing whom to call: “Some councilmembers will have an aide call the commissioner.I will call the local Parks foreman. First,the commissioner is harder to get on thephone. Also, I know the local Parks fore-man. A tree has fallen. Am I gonna waitfive days for a commissioner to call meback because a tree fell?”

Vacca’s car has rolled over the RFKBridge and is on the FDR Drive head-ing south. One wonders how mayoralagencies respond to people like Vacca,a fairly junior councilman, when theycall asking for something. “It’s a mix,”he says. “I think it depends what you aretrying to do. If it’s a policy issue, you cango through hoops. If it’s a communityproblem, the agencies are pretty good. You have to prod them and follow up.” But dealing with local officials issomething Vacca knows well. Navi-gating life on the City Council, on theother hand, has been a learning expe-rience. “This place is very political. Ilearned that early on. I also think thisplace is dependent on relationships you have with members, letting them

know you have credibility,” Vacca says.“You may ask yourself, ‘What am I do-ing here?’ You’re one of 51. But what is your specific role?”

The car shoots off the FDR into theneighborhood around City Hall. As helearned the ropes, Vacca says, he real-ized that he needed to make clear to thespeaker what his goals were and to nothave too many goals. Overdevelopment,education and senior issues are what hehas prioritized.

But some lessons of life on the Coun-cil are harder to swallow. The bill-writingprocess—which the speaker’s officecontrols—is frustratingly slow. Vaccahas put forward a measure to ease li-censure requirements for facilities thatreceive deliveries of senior meals. It hasbeen pending for two years, he says. This is a complaint of Avella’s too—heasserts that the speaker’s office refusesto write bills it doesn’t agree with. Quinninstituted a rule to write bills within 60days, though she says some issues are

too complicated to handle within that pe-riod. “The 60-day rule has largely beenfollowed,” says Dick Dadey, the execu-tive director of the government-reformadvocate Citizens Union. “But there arecurious exceptions. Still, it is better un-der Quinn than before.” In an interview withCity Limits, Quinndefended the bill writing process. “We’veprobably written in the past three years

somewhere between dred bills. Every pieca priority of the staff,ends up on the agendalargely up to the chair That is an area where work with the chairs o

T he guard at the Cers the barrier, through. The languathat is still someti Vacca says. “Everythhe says. “Did they rethey mean what theythey said mean what Why am I happy? Shothat good? Sometimemyself, ‘Was I had?’”

Vacca’s office is on250 Broadway. The viethe Brooklyn Bridge lar. It’s an upgrade; hfice had no windows. He arrives at the o10:30 meeting with peoa senior citizens’ serviis just wrapping up a sin fact, the only membCenters Subcommitteprogram (which Vaccathat links seniors forand telephone-based minutes, three reprtheir pitch to Vacca—a vital lifeline to seniotabs on one other anhealth tips—and he his desk, saying little.one of a councilmemletting someone try toporting, funding, opping something. How do you lobby

former member whoist, Ken Fisher, saysthe Council differs de you’re seeking. Forobviously, you targe whose district the pbudget stuff, you miga particular geograpegation, or you migheverybody,” he says

Thursday 3:30 p.m.: Vacca shoots the

breeze at a senior citizens center. Photo: JM

IV. THURSDAYCouncilman Jimmy Vacca’s aides have a rule for the hour-long ride from his

district office in the East Bronx to City Hall: Don’t let the councilman drive.Vacca’s driving style is, well, cautious. The trip would take forever if he took the

wheel, the aides say. Besides, Vacca’s got too much to do during the ride. No

sooner has the car pulled out into traffic at about 9:20 on Thursday morning

than Vacca’s on the phone to the district office he just left, telling another aide

to call a local Sanitation Department official. “The street sweeper could not have

come down here,” Vacca says, after spying leaves and trash along the curb.

“Call him up and ask him what’s going on on Tremont Avenue.”

hursday 9 a.m.: Councilman James Vacca starts the day, as usual, in his district office. Photo: JM


13/17


4 SPRING 2009


matters, you try to identify who’s con-erned with the issue, although, Fisherays, that form of lobbying is the leastrequent “because the Council’s legisla-ve jurisdiction is so limited.”“The first thing you have to figure

ut—and this is where people misplayhings—are the rules,” says a former

mayoral aide who lobbied the Council.The procedural rules—these are thebsolute keys to success. They can ben advantage or be used to defeat you.”hese rules determine who has theower to call bills up for a vote, how toorce a vote or prevent one, and when

measures lapse from inaction—all the

ears and levers of the legislative ma-hinery. Advance planning is also key:he aide recalls one vote for which hegured out a year in advance that he’deed a veto-sustaining number of votesnd worked to get those votes over theext 12 months. Targeting the Council also requiresdetailed understanding of its poli-

cs, both internal and external. Some

members are looking for a reason toundermine the speaker, while othersare looking to curry favor with thespeaker—regardless of the policy is-sue at hand—and those tendencies can work to the lobbyist’s advantage. Somethrive on the support of unions or otheroutside groups the lobbyist can target.“Where do they get their money?” saysthe former aide. “What are they lookingat next in their districts?”

The biggest lesson, perhaps, is notto get too emotionally invested. “If youmake this personal,” the aide says, “you’lllast about five minutes in government.” The people from DOROT don’t have

to play hardball; Vacca is on their side. When their pitch ends, it’s his turn totalk. “Every councilman’s going to sayto you what I will say: ‘How many peoplein my district are served? Bring me aproposal,’” Vacca tells them. Each councilmember is given at least$80,000 in general discretionary moneyto dole out, as well as $151,000 in youthfunds and $109,000 for senior centers.

But in actuality, most members allocatea lot more, especially when capital fund-ing is also rolled in (see Big Spenders, p.19). In the current fiscal year, Vacca dis-tributed $8,000,000 in total funds. In fact, just that Tuesday, he managed to gettwo mentions in the Daily News for hisgenerosity. One mentioned that LarrySeabrook and Vacca had given $300,000each to schools in their district, while aseparate article talked about Vacca’s al-lotting $350,000 for renovating the caf-eteria at Lehman High School. Chief of Staff Lynch has already walked over to City Hall for a meeting with Bloomberg administration repre-sentatives about PSAC II. PSAC II, orPublic Safety Answering Center II, is thecity’s new 911 backup center, which is

planned to go up in Vacca’s district—toofar up, Vacca thinks. The original planscalled for a 37-story structure costing abillion dollars. When Vacca and otherscomplained that that would be unusuallyhigh for the generally low-density EastBronx, the administration resisted.

But then budget realities required alower cost and, as it turned out, a lowerroof. “Everybody sees the budget crisisas a bad thing, and it is,” Vacca says.“But it also brings people back down toearth.” The current version—$750 mil-lion and 25 floors high—is still a littletall, Vacca thinks. But if it does go up, he wants the city to take this opportunity toput in infrastructure that the neighbor-hood has long needed—like an extra busstop and a new r

the chamber: a week in the new york city council (spring 2009)

Documents