County execs Marc Molinaro and Mike Hein converse during Gov. Cuomo’s visit to Kingston last year. (Photo: Phyllis McCabe)
This is not to suggest the supervisor is a soft touch for cookies, ice cream or woo-woo rides in the fire chief’s car, only that the personal touch goes a long way.
Big bucks
There was a time not too long ago when a $50 fundraiser was a big, big deal. As late as several years ago, a $100 fundraiser was roundly deplored (in Woodstock) as undemocratic. Flash forward and add a bunch of zeroes and $5,000 is today’s big deal, at least in DutchessCounty, where CountyExecutiveMarc Molinaro will be hosting a $5000-a-head (top donation) golf tournament this month.
In Ulster County, $2,500 a pop seems to be the threshold for executive fundraising.
Molinaro insists that five large from some corporate bigwig seeking business with the county counts less than the $10 he charges for spaghetti-and-meatball fundraising dinners in his hometown of Tivoli.
Though Molinaro is not the usual petulant, defensive type when it comes to talking about campaign fundraising, there was an edge in his voice when he said, “The average resident in Dutchess County, I assure you, has greater influence and similar access, even to the guy who gave me five grand. I see him at the golf course once a year. I see thousands of residents every year.”
He understands the public doesn’t see it that way. Money talks. Pay to play is the way many believe the game is played.
“I’ve always been skeptical, too,” he said. “We do have a very carefully organized screening process for bids. We will continue to do so.” Molinaro said his administration bids out services when not required to by law, such as for consultants and insurance.
In Orange County, the legislature is considering legislation that would limit campaign contributions from vendors to $250 after determining that a handful of corporate types donated most of the money to retiring executive Ed Diana’s last campaign.
At 37, Molinaro has spent half his life in elective office, rising from Tivoli village trustee at 18 to mayor, county legislator, assemblyman and county executive two years ago. He’s had a front row seat on the seamy side of politics, the go-between bagmen, the wheeler-dealer influence peddlers. That hefty campaign donations generate lucrative public contracts is stoutly denied by every politician in receipt.
Molinaro isn’t far off when he says modern politics requires the raising of huge sums of money, even on the county level. The county executive said he spent about $400,000 on his first campaign for county executive, compared to $400 the first time he ran for mayor of Tivoli. He said he still needs a steady stream of contributions “to get my message out.”
Why, I asked, did he need to spend thousands of dollars to reach the public when he could simply pick up the phone and get instant and near total media coverage for free?
It’s the nature of the communication, he replied. “We do countywide phone-in-town-hall sessions that cost $10,000,” he said. “We get several thousand people involved. I get hundreds of questions. It’s the price of direct communication.”
The cumulative effect of constant campaigning (communicating) is a marvel to behold. By the time Dutchess Democrats secure a candidate to run against the Republican executive some time in the spring of 2015, the incumbent will be, barring outrageous and unforgivable scandal, but a vapor trail on the horizon.
And yet, for all his attention to big-time fundraising, there seems to be something in Molinaro that relishes the old days when the boy wonder first mixed with neighbors at spaghetti dinners. “There’s an elderly woman in Tivoli who has supported me since the first time I ran for office,” he said. “She doesn’t attend the dinners, but she always gives me $10, which I know she can’t afford. I go to her house, we sit down and chat for a time. She tells me what’s on her mind. That means more to me than a $5,000 donation.”
At some level the impact of money on politics becomes corrosive. Put another way, high rollers don’t roll without some reasonable expectation of recompense. Five thousand might not be the threshold. But it sure sounds ominous.
Here and there
Attention. If the 20-year intermittent discussions between the Town of Ulster and the City of Kingston are any precedent, the New Paltz town-and-village merger is probably not going to happen. Asked at a recent forum whether the on-again off-again 20-year-long merger debate between Ulster and Kingston was likely, Alderman Tom Hoffay replied, “We’re willing. They’re probably less willing.”
Probably?
Kingston Veterans Association feted retired city firefighter Stan Chandler as the 23rd Veteran of the Year Saturday night. County officials, who profess to honor veterans and are actively engaged in establishing a shelter for homeless vets in downtown Kingston, were conspicuously absent from the biggest veteran event of the year. Kingston Legislator Dave Donaldson is a regular attendee.
Ulster Town Councilwoman Cris Hendrick, a persona non grata in both major political parties after being decisively rejected in separate caucuses, trudges onward. Endorsed by Republicans four years ago, she’ll continue on the Conservative line, though with scant hope of success.
In Woodstock, they call him Second-Hand Rose, but Republican nominee Lorin Rose could be viable after losing his Democratic Party nomination to incumbent Jeremy Wilber. I think what Rose really needs is a cool hat like Democratic nominee Wilber’s.
