A Town Without

Recently, three of our New York boys tumbled to the ground having their reputations shattered with historic descents. They were not named Tom, Dick and Harry, but rather were known affectionately as Donald, Rudy and Mario.

And as everyone knows, nobody loves their home town heroes as much as New Yorkers.

Admittedly, it was a very long time ago, and only a few of us still remember their brief moments of contentment basking in the city’s limited sunlight.

I can already hear loud voices disputing my words. However, once there a was brief interlude of time when those of us who walked east across 58th Street believed the young Donald Trump deserved to be lionized by his fellow Manhattanite citizens .

That was when the Donald did perform a minor miracle of sorts. After six years of failure by the esteemed NYC government, Mr.T. restored the landmark Wollman Rink to its well deserved place of New York glory. Of course that’s also during the era Donald was expanding his energy on construction projects and relatively long before our home town boy embraced the far more challenging pitfall of politics.

Directly across the city’s historic tree lined street stood the restored elegance of the Plaza Hotel, a project ably aided and abetted by Mr. T’s first wife, Ivanka.

Whenever visitors from outlying areas arrived, they were transported posthaste to 58th Street tidily set between the precise boundaries of both Fifth and Sixth Avenues.

Then guests were squired to the legendary Rumplemayer’s for frozen hot chocolate. That delightful culinary experience was followed with a leisurely stroll down the heavily trafficked block, finally emerging into the legendary lobby of the illustrious Plaza Hotel; never without making a stop for tea in the Palm Garden. Moving one block south they savored the intimidating glamour of Trump Tower, another site equally mandated for all visitors.

Ah yes, of course, that occurred decades before the anchor of political dissent was anywhere near in view. Violent protestors or rioters had not yet crossed any threshold or ventured as far south as St. Patrick’s Cathedral in those fabled days of yesteryear.

Ironically, the famed Donald’s brief time embraced in admiration was not to last.

Next, another home town hero, one (who most of those of us who remember agree about), quickly became our most charismatic and possibly successful Mayor. Even those who voted for Rudy’s opponent found little to complain about. Our streets had less crime, and our subways were running. New York voters never ask for too much and always expect even less.

Perhaps a few caustic comments were made about his assumption of the Lothario role instead of the highly preferred cloak of a stable husband and father. But the complaints were seldom loud enough to cause much static..

Besides Rudy was another home town boy. And as I said, New Yorkers love our boys,.

Sadly, after leaving office, the former mayor abandoned his home town and ventured into unknown territory where he eventually became vilified and ridiculed. I wonder now if anyone remembers the glory of his earlier years.

Mario, the last of our NewYork boys was our last home town hero, but uniquely different.

The young politician wasn’t a “real” New Yorker. The soon to be Governor of our great State was a first cousin, having lived in the huddled borough of Jamaica, Queens, a mere subway ride away from the “Big Town.”

Every New Yorker knew someone else who “knew” the young St.John’s student. Mario was characterized by his ethnic, religious, and lower-class upbringing. He became a different kind of politician,

He sat in the same college classroom as my husband. He respected and befriended an accomplished ball player relative of our family for the remainder of his life. In later years while still Governor, Mario remembered the older Marine veteran and fellow Queens ballplayer. The Governor of NY attended his old friend, John’s retirement party.

Throughout his tenure in Albany, Mario never forgot the loyalty of friends nor neglected to reward them politically.

The four term NY governor endorsed much of America's immigrant heritage and the upward mobility of its people. His political philosophy became a "family kind of politics" based on people sharing blessings with the understanding that their well-being depends on the well-being of the entire community.

Our last New York boy survived his tenure as Governor without evil, but tragically his legend will forevermore be scarred by two one syllable words never uttered by him.

“Who cares?”

It’s. a different town now that NY no longer has any more home town boys to cheer.