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After Troubled Year, Molinaro Resurfaces
James Molinaro’s State of the Borough speech Jan. 18 featured a surprise visit from Mayor Michael Bloomberg (R) and ended with the Beatles blasting from the theater’s sound system as the capacity crowd of 500 were handed copies of the bestseller, “The Death of Common Sense.”
The address, interrupted by frequent bursts of applause and spontaneous cheers and whistles as Staten Island’s Conservative borough president decried big government, outlined plans to expand parkland, widen roads and slash through bureaucratic red tape.
“It was vintage Jimmy Molinaro,” said Council Member James Oddo (R-Staten Island). “It was really good to see Jimmy back being the Jimmy that I know and love.”
Coming at the end of a year that saw a host of personal troubles for Molinaro, including the sudden death of his son in April from a drug overdose and another jailing for his troubled grandson, the evening had more the air of a triumphant return rather than staid political event. The boisterous night was a showcase of the popularity of a man who, since first being elected in 2001, has become as well known on Staten Island as he is seemingly unknown off of it.
Ask a New Yorker to name the five borough presidents and most would come up with only three or four. Molinaro would almost definitely not be on many lists.
But on Staten Island, everyone seems to know “Jimmy.” And those who know him best are quick to identify what they say sets him apart and accounts for his popularity.
“Talking about Jimmy, you’re talking about somebody who’s not typical of the average politician,” said former Staten Island Borough President Guy Molinari (R). “He brings a different perspective to the job than just about everybody else, because he approaches it as one of the crowd.”
Molinaro grew up on Manhattan’s Lower East Side and graduated from Murray Hill High School—the extent of his formal education. He ran a recycling business before becoming involved in politics in the 1960s as an early member of the state Conservative Party. He has remained a prominent party official ever since.
After serving as deputy borough president for 12 years under Molinari, Molinaro was elected in his own right after term limits forced his old boss from office, beating out then-Council Member Jerome O’Donovan (D-Staten Island.) The race was close. Molinaro’s campaign benefited from then-Mayor Rudolph Giuliani’s (R) strong support.
Molinaro openly embraced his reputation as an everyman politician. His home number is listed. He refused an official driver, putting the money which would have paid that salary towards a senior care program open on Saturdays.
“That’s my style,” Molinaro said. “I think you should be a part of the people you’re governing.”
But those close to him admit that Molinaro’s informal approach to politics can sometimes come off as abrasive or gruff.
“He’d be the first to admit that it may not be pretty along the way,” said Oddo. “He may not use flowery language, although his language is colorful.”
Molinaro agreed with this assessment of his style.
“You’ve got to be what you’ve got to be,” he said. “You can’t pussyfoot.”
Richard Flanagan, a professor of political science at the College of Staten Island, said that Staten Island’s unique political culture only added to Molinaro’s reputation on the island.
“The borough president is more of a venerated figure here than he or she would be in the other boroughs,” he said. “There’s a sense that Staten Island is not entirely a part of the city, and that the borough president is head of state of this government in exile.”
Molinaro’s office is an expansive wood-paneled space on the first floor of Borough Hall. A picture of him with Sen. Charles Schumer (D) is prominently displayed outside the entrance. The two are close friends.
Molinaro tends to speak in short, rapid-fire bursts. Recently, sitting behind his large desk in his large office, he talked extensively about his job, his friendship with the mayor, and his relationship with the media.
He does not shy away from recognizing unpopular positions he has taken, such as his support for so-called “box stores,” which have been criticized by opponents of overdevelopment.
More notably, Molinaro came under fire in 2002 for his support of Bloomberg’s 18 percent raise in property taxes in the face of the city’s $6 billion deficit.
“Everybody blasted him, but I stayed with the mayor,” Molinaro said. “I went out on Staten Island and I preached that what he did, there was no choice.”
He said it was a matter of policy trumping politics.
“Because I’m a Conservative, it would have been easy to say we shouldn’t raise taxes,” he added. “But it wouldn’t have been right.”
Since then, the two have remained close. During his visit to the State of the Borough speech, Bloomberg called Molinaro “a no-nonsense guy” and praised his dedication to public service.
Molinaro has used that relationship as the foundation for the main focus of his office: getting City Hall to focus on Staten Island’s issues. For an office which had its staff cut by more than half when Molinaro took office, the borough president’s alliance seems like canny politics in the service of otherwise unattainable results.
City Council Member Michael McMahon (D-Staten Island) said that given the reduced power of the office, Molinaro deserved high marks for drawing attention to Staten Island.
“In the eyes of previous administrations our problems were small problems,” he said. “But the borough president has been effective in getting the mayor to realize that overdevelopment and traffic and economic development are issues that loom large out here.”
While he has sought to bring added attention to Staten Island, Molinaro has not often sought that same attention for himself, which might have something to do with his tendency to receive the type of attention politicians generally try to avoid.
Specifically, since 2002, several city newspapers have taken pains to point out Molinaro’s connection to two Staten Island businessmen whose names surfaced during an FBI investigation into organized crime control of the Howland Hook Container Terminal. Both were substantial contributors to Molinaro’s 2001 campaign.
One of them, Salvatore Calcagno, was Molinaro’s campaign finance chairman. Calcagno was reportedly overheard on an FBI wiretap meeting with organized crime figures and was subsequently investigated for income tax fraud.
Molinaro was not connected to any wrongdoing. But he has nonetheless avoided much comment on the controversy surrounding his former campaign finance chief, or on consistently being named in coverage of the story.
“I don’t argue because you can’t win,” Molinaro said.
But he does think the treatment of his former associates has been somewhat unfair.
“I do remember saying at the time, ‘Let he who is free of sin cast the first stone,’” he added. “Meaning, show me someone who doesn’t do a little cheating on their income tax.”
And he does not think that he should necessarily be judged based on past associates.
“I might have shook hands with five people who held up a grocery store the day before,” he said.
Ultimately, Molinaro said, taking the heat is all part of being an elected official.
At 75, Molinaro said he would not seek a third term even if term limits were not poised to force him from office at the end of 2009.
“I think something happens to you after eight years,” he said. “I’m afraid that you’d become arrogant. And it would be a good time for some fresh ideas.”
But though he will be near 80 by the time his term ends, Molinaro insists the end of his political career will not mean retirement to the home in Florida which he co-owns and where he often spends his vacation.
“One thing’s for sure,” he said. “I will not do nothing.”
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