NYCivic - Call Me Cassandra

Call Me Cassandra
By Henry J. Stern
March 7, 2003

When, on April 29, 2002, in the first quarter of New York Civic's existence, I wrote a column about the city's fiscal situation, entitled "The Gathering Storm," the title was Churchillian, we saw troubles lying ahead, and suggested that action be taken.

    When, on September 23, 2002, I wrote "Drifting from Erie toward Ontario," the title was meant to be subtle, so as not to upset people who were unaware that between Lakes Erie and Ontario came Niagara Falls, I tried to make the point in the column that the city's time to act with regard to the fiscal crisis was becoming shorter.

    When, on January 31, 2003, I wrote "This is the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius, Will Aid Arrive Before the Sunset of Gemini," I wondered how long it would be before fiscal rescue arrived, since the day of reckoning was drawing nigh. The authorities may have felt I was being unduly concerned, that the cavalry would surely arrive in time.

    Today, on March 7, midway into Pisces, the month after Aquarius, we are no closer to a solution of the problem than we were in January. In fact, the city's deficit for fiscal 2004 (which starts July 1, 2003) has swelled, it is now estimated to be around $3,900,000,000.00. (The .00 are used to emphasize the enormity of the problem. The word 'billion' is not as frightening or impressive as it used to be. I wonder why.)

    The city's titanic vessel, with the Mayor as captain, over 300,000 employees (including related agencies) as crew, and about 8 million passengers, is closing in on Horseshoe Falls, and the current has become faster. Observers on the prow see something ominous ahead. The captain, who requires the consent of the crew to steer, as well as some officers of other ships of state, who may be hard to distinguish from the buccaneers who lie in wait near the east end of the Erie Canal, is not yet able to protect the passengers. Some of the crew may have to be thrown overboard to save the vessel, and that is an unhappy prospect. But when the alternative is Davey Jones' locker, lightening the load must be taken seriously.

    The captain has suggested that if the crew consented to lose some weight, their mates might be saved. So far, there has been no response, except that he should have asked them sooner. The leaders of the crew seem to prefer a smaller number of happy sailors to a larger number of potential mutineers against their leadership.

    Innocent bystanders with an interest in the ship have made suggestions over the last year, but they have been largely unheeded. You can read their wise observations here.

    Our mission today is to log the voyage, much as Herman Melville did with the Pequod a century and a half ago. Switching metaphorically from the Great Lakes to the great oceans (remember, it's Pisces), I see ahead a large white whale (yes, I know it's a mammal) circling the vessel.

    It is true that this is not the ship's first encounter with possible disaster. After 350 years, it is scarcely on its maiden voyage. There were severe storms in 1975, when a fifth of the crew were jettisoned, and in 1991, when a similar number were required to walk the plank. Now it is 2003, and the ship's company wants to hold on.

    The fare for the voyage has been raised by 18.49% per seat, and, if you want to move around the ship, you will have to pay up to 33.3% more. But these offerings are not enough to propitiate the hungry whale.

    A fascinating aspect of this adventure at sea is that it unfolds as we write; it is not being described later from dry land. Through the magic of e-mail, we report on events as they occur, just as television brings the latest news of war and peace. We are probably the best-informed generation in history. But the captain still need to know just how to right the boat, how to persuade his partners to be helpful. He has the will to act, but he needs to know the way. He must pay the sums that are required, without making the passage so expensive that the passengers will take their business elsewhere.

    The problem is that neither freedom nor solvency is free of cost, and the longer you wait, the more you have to pay in the end. We have watched this drama unfold for over a year. The bulky, expensive overhead continues to weigh down the vessel. The captain and the ship’s new officers do not seem to know precisely where to find it. In fact, the first mate has just added 26,000 pounds to the ship’s weight.

    And so we drift. Whether it is Niagara Falls, Moby Dick, Scylla and Charybdis, the iceberg of 1912, or any other nautical metaphor, that we approach, the time has already come for, at least, defensive action. Remember the Hesperus and the Edmund Fitzgerald, and don’t forget the Andrea Gail (not the Andrea Doria, which collided with the Stockholm and sank in 1956). The Andrea Gail was lost in the perfect storm of 1991, the year of Fiscal Crisis II.

    We take heart from the fact that, even in dark days, our skipper has stayed on an even keel. He is neither Captain Queeg nor Captain Bligh. Nor is he a pirate like Captain Kidd or Captain Morgan. He could use a little of the bravery, but not the single-mindedness, of Captain Ahab, and perhaps some of the wisdom of Captain Nemo.

    We are eight days from the Ides of March. Our country may be at war before our city takes the measures that it must. From the lower deck, we ask for a change in course, more steam, and some confidence in and by the helmsman.

* This, or any other historical, literary, or linguistic reference in this article, will be illuminated, at your request, by Ginger Nut, our midshipman. You can e-mail him at gingernut@nycivic.org or telephone him at 212-564-4441. Lux et veritas.