Monday, March 14, 2005 2:12 PM
Subject:  L'Affair Dryfoos

I am one of those who believes that New York’s own l’Affaire Dryfoos was the lowest act of political treachery that I ever observed—and that’s saying a great deal.

In 1986, in my capacity as the Manhattan Democratic Party Law Chair, I was responsible for representing the Manhattan council members in arranging the coalition with the Brooklyn caucus, represented by Ken Fisher, who was then Brooklyn Law Chair.  The Manhattan caucus was quite diligent about securing agreement to the details of their reform agenda, as well as amendments to the Council Rules, without running afoul of the technical requirements of the New York Public Officers Law that makes it illegal for an elected official to promise to vote for one matter in return for a promise by a colleague to vote a particular way on another matter. (Yes, vote trading is illegal in New York!)

I participated in many long meetings that lasted well past midnight where the members of the Manhattan delegation scoped out a quite thorough list of the reforms they insisted that would have to be adopted in return for their support of Brooklyn’s Sam Horwitz for Vice Chair and Majority Leader, the old title before it was changed to the more potent “speaker” in 1989. Dryfoos participated fully in these meetings, often goading the junior members to demand more significant committee chairmanships, but always feigning complete commitment to package.  It turned out that Stanley Friedmain’s telephone logs, which became public when they were introduced as evidence at his corruption trial, revealed that Dryfoos was secretly telephoning him immediately at the conclusion of each of these meetings, sometimes at 2 and 3 a.m.

Two days before the vote, the Manhattan and Brooklyn delegations were offered an “insurance vote” from a Bronx member who was prepared to bolt in return for the right to name the City Clerk.  Dryfoos argued to the Manhattan delegation that this was unnecessary and contrary to the reform agenda. The Manhattan delegation decided to decline the offer. It was probably the right thing to do and would not have changed the result.  If the reform coalition had accepted the offer, they would have compromised their principles and Friedman and Manes simply would have increased their bid and would have received the vote anyway.

I will never forget January 8, 1986.  The first meeting of the newly elected City Council was scheduled for Noon.  At 10:00 a.m., Ken Fisher and I met with Stanley Schlein, representing the Bronx delegation, and Richard Rubin, Executive Director of the Queens Democratic Committee (later convicted in the Queens Surrogate’s Court scandal) at Andrew Stein’s ornate office in the Tweed Courthouse.  As Council President, Stein would chair the meeting, and we met to review the ground rules and agenda.  Ken Fisher and I, assuming that we represented the majority, pulled out the script that we had prepared and gave it to President Stein.  Much to our surprise, our Bronx and Queens counterparts pulled out their own script.  When Stein told us that he would be using the Rubin-Schlein script unless the Manhattan-Brooklyn coalition won the vote, Fisher and I exchanged suspicious suspicious glances that Stein knew something we didn’t know.  I remember brashly telling Ken Fisher on the way out that he needed to recheck his delegation to make absolutely certain that no one was abandoning the coalition.  Ken politely upbraided me that if there was a defector it would come from the Manhattan delegation.

The seven Manhattan members had agreed to meet one last time at 11:45 in the office shared by Stanley Michels and Carolyn Maloney.  I reported exactly what had occurred in the Council President’s office.  I reminded the delegation of the old adage that in politics you can never be really sure of a commitment until you ask for it unconditionally.  Ruth Messinger, who chaired the delegation, asked all seven members sitting around the table to join hands as if it were a prayer meeting and to recite one at a time for whom they were going to vote.  Each of the seven members, including Robert Dryfoos, holding hands, pledged to vote for Horwitz. Ruth Messinger then adjourned the meeting at 11:55 so everyone could walk across the street to City Hall.  They assigned a buddy system to make sure that no one was approached with a last minute deal.

Council President Stein called the Council to order and directed the roll call on the vote for Vice Chairman and Majority Leader.  When Robert Dryfoos was called he asked for leave to rise and to explain his vote.  To our utter shock, he pulled out of his vest pocket a three-page typewritten speech on ruled yellow paper where he proceeded to explain why he believed Peter Vallone should be their leader. Vallone won by one vote. Dryfoos had that speech in his pocket while he joined hands with his colleagues pledging to vote for Horwitz.

I still regard the Dryfoos betrayal as the most anti-democratic treachery I have ever observed in my political career. Not only did his act completely sink the reform agenda that had been so carefully negotiated with his participation and assent, but it became clear that part of the Dryfoos deal was to lock out the other six Manhattan members from any meaningful participation in the deliberations of the council. Clearly Dryfoos had a right to vote as he chose or in opposition to the rest of the Manhattan delegation. By lying and deceiving his colleagues, however, he did not seek to promote his views with open discussion, but instead deviously undermined the reform agenda. As part of his deal with Vallone, Dryfoos was designated as Vallone’s liaison with the Manhattan caucus and all communications with Vallone had to go through Dryfoos.  It was no surprise then that the other six Manhattan council members refused to speak with Dryfoos until it became untenable for him to run for re-election in 1991 when his financial defalcations became public.

Manhattan suffered terribly in the process until Peter Vallone, to his credit, eventually came to the conclusion that his political debt to Dryfoos had been satisfied and allowed a rapprochement with the rest of the Manhattan caucus.

No one should tolerate deception and guile to avoid a free and open discussion of the issues before a legislative body. We should never forget l’Affaire Dryfoos and we should never allow any legislator to think that type of deceit is an acceptable political tool.

Douglas Kellner