Mayor Edward I. Koch’s Favorite Cartoons

Mayor Edward I. Koch's Favorite Cartoons

Richard K. Lieberman, Director LaGuardia and Wagner Archives LaGuardia Community College/CUNY 31-10 Thomson Avenue Long Island City, NY 11101 Tel: 718-482-5065 www.laguardiawagnerarchive.lagcc.cuny.edu © Copyright, 2009

Prepared by: Casey Babcock Douglas Dicarlo

Cover image by Leo Glueckselig, 1983.

Introduction These are some Mayor Edward I. Koch's favorite cartoons from his personal collection. Interviews about the cartoons were conducted by Richard K. Lieberman, the director of the La Guardia and Wagner Archives at La Guardia Community College/CUNY, for the purpose of creating an oral history about each image. Some of the more lively cartoons and text have been selected for this publication. The texts on these cartoons are from an interview Dr. Lieberman conducted with Mayor Koch on June 5th, 2008. The reader is asked to bear in mind that he or she is reading a verbatim transcript of spoken word, rather than written prose. These cartoons may be used for personal research purposes only. They are NOT to be reproduced in any media for publication, sale or public display.

Mayor Edward I. Koch with Dr. Richard K. Lieberman and his teachers’ sabbatical course during a visit to City Hall, circa 1989.

Cartoon by Bay Rigby. Published in the New York Post, circa 1985.

Koch: This is a cartoon about -- you see I have in my hand "Gay Rights Bill," and the Cardinal (with whom I was very good friends), in alliance with the Hasidics, who are to his left, is down at City Hall, and seeing me as a kind of vampire or some creature that should be held off by his holding up the cross and the bible -- a Dracula kind of person. But I won it. We got the bill through. Lieberman: How did you do that? How did you get the bill with --? Koch: First, I did the executive order in 1978, within the first thirty days of my administration. It was the Executive Order for barring the city in engaging in discrimination against people, based upon their sexual orientation. It created a huge furor. I can remember a Times bureau chief saying to me, "You're not going to do this are you?" when I walked into Room #9, which is where the reporters stayed, issuing the press release that I was doing it. I said, "Didn't I say I would do it, during my campaign? Why wouldn't I do it?" But he was shocked. Then, years later -- because it took the City Council to pass legislation that would be binding on the private sector; I can do it in government, by executive order, but the City Council was required to impose the same restrictions on the private sector -- on employment, housing, jobs. We did it in the public sector. The effort to get a gay-rights bill went back twenty years or so. When I was a congressman, I had come up and testified; when I was a councilman, I had testified in support of a gayrights bill. It always had failed, and the major reason was that it was denied a vote, often, in the committee and certainly in the council itself. Because, then, the majority leader, Tom Cuite, a very religious Catholic, believed that it was morally wrong and that he'd go to hell if he participated in any way, allowing it to be voted on. (I'm speculating about that.) He would never allow the vote to come on. Now he ultimately had to leave government because of a medical condition, and Peter Vallone became the candidate. I said to Peter (who was looking for my support), "Will you allow the bill to come out? I know you're against it, but would you allow it to be voted on?" He said yes, and that's why I gave him my support. Otherwise, I wouldn't have given him my support. He probably would have been elected anyway, but he wasn't sure. So he allowed a vote, and now the question was could we get enough members? There were enough members who said, "Yes, I'm for it, but I'm afraid in my district." In those days it was different than today. I called all the members who were afraid, separately, into my office -- Democrats and Republicans -- and I said, "If you vote for it, and you are attacked by your opponent, either in a primary or in the general election, I will support you, irrespective of any other factor. And if you're a Democrat, and I disagree with you on a whole host of other things, if you vote for it, I will support you against your opponents." To the Republicans I said the same thing. "If you vote for it, I will support you in

the general election and the primary, but in the general election, which is the most important, against your Democratic opponent." And they did. I think there were only four (perhaps more) exceptions, who said to me, "Oh, I can't. I can't. I'd like to, but I can't." Most ultimately regretted it (including Peter Vallone, who said if he had it to do over, he would vote for the bill). Lieberman: Did you ever actually have to campaign for any of the council members? Koch: No. And nobody was attacked. Lieberman: And when you think about your support for the gay-rights bill -- and it is cutting against the grain at that time -- when you look back at your own personal history, where does that come from? When you look back in time, where did you get that fire and that passion and that commitment. Koch: I don't know. I've always been willing to stand up and take on those who were opposing that which I thought was fair to do. I honestly don't know. I can't say that my mother or my father instilled that in me. But I went South in 1964, as a lawyer, representing black and white college students (mostly black, whites coming from the North) to register voters. I worked out of Jackson, Mississippi, and I went to Laurel…I thought I was going to be lynched by a crowd that followed me out of the courthouse -- which is, I think, the bravest thing I've ever done, outside of the war, where you're constantly thinking you're going to get killed. I didn't think I'd survive the war. But, outside of the dangers of the war, when I went to Laurel, Mississippi, it was the center of the Ku Klux Klan. When I went there the first time, I didn't know it, and I'm representing people in a trial. But when I had to go back, I knew it, and what I'm proud of, I went back twice.

Mayor Koch with John Cardinal O’Connor, 1989. This is the cover photo of their book, His Eminence and Hizzoner: A Candid Exchange.

Cartoon by Paul Rigby. Published in the New York Post, circa October, 1983.

Koch: I had two bouts which became causes célébres; this one depicts one of them, which took place in an Italian restaurant, where I went to dinner with two friends -- David Margolis and his wife, Bobbi. Bobbi Margolis was the Commissioner of Protocol in my administration -- and what happened was I felt, after drinking (three of us) three bottles of wine, which is enormous, I felt a little woozy. I went to the bathroom and, fortunately, David Margolis followed me in, seeing that I was in difficulty. When I went to the sink to wash my face, I passed out. Fortunately, he was behind me and he caught me, so I didn't hit my head on the floor. When I woke up, he had called the medics. They were already there, and I was lying on the knee of a cop and being cradled by him. And he said, "Don't get up, Mayor. You're all right. We're getting a stretcher, and we're going to take you to the hospital and see what was wrong." I said, "No, no. I'm not being taken out of this restaurant on a stretcher. It'll scare the heck out of people in the city, that the Mayor is near death. No, no, no. I'm getting up, and I'll walk to the ambulance." So I got up, I opened the door, and the patrons in the restaurant were very still. They were looking at this door, like a rabbit looks to a snake. I leave the bathroom, and I say to this crowd that's hushed, "Continue eating. It was not the food!" [Laughter] The owner said he thanked me forever, because I'd saved his business…In any event, he's making fun of it. It wasn't the coffee, it was the wine. "Mama Mia, Signore, it must have been too much coffee," says the waiter to me.

Cartoon by Paul Rigby. Published in the New York Post, 1984.

Koch: Well, I think what they're really pointing out -- everybody knows that I'm not a sports fan; yet, on this particular occasion, one of my detectives, who was a great sports fan, picked a game where the Giants were considered the underdogs. He said, "When the reporters ask you about it, you pick the Giants, and give them the score." It turned out just that way, so now I was considered an expert. [Laughter] Lieberman: Do you remember the name of the security guard? Koch: It was Dennis Martin. He's a wonderful guy. I still see him. The number 85 on my jersey, it's the year it happened…And the year of my election. I ran for my third term in '85 -which I won big.

Cartoon by Bay Rigby. Published in the New York Post, 1985.

Koch: The cartoonist for the New York Post was Bay Rigby and his son, Paul Rigby. Both did cartoons, and they did an enormous number of me. They were kind enough to give me, sometimes, just the photostats, other times, originals. This is the second election I was in for Mayor, when Carol Bellamy ran against me and got 19% of the vote. It was really interesting. Lieberman: You're smiling. Tell me about the smile -- that reaction. Koch: Well, she was a very able person. In fact, after we all left government she became the head of UNICEF, and did a remarkably good job. I think she still lives up in Vermont, to which she had moved. But what was interesting was that she had always been -- overwhelmingly, I would say -- good government, and voted on measures, when she was on the Board of Estimate, on the basis of what was good for the city. One of the things that would have been good for the city, and that I was able to put together, was the resource recovery plants, which allowed the city to build garbageburning plants that produced energy and would take the garbage, which would normally be going into a garbage dump on Staten Island, and we would save a lot of money by burning it and creating electricity. Nobody wants such a plant in any area where you're living, so the way we got it was to get each borough president to agree to vote for all the resource recovery plants in the other boroughs (there were a total of eight plants), and vote against those in their borough -- so he could say he voted against it (which is reasonable). But in that way, I put together the numbers - the votes - needed to get it done. Carol Bellamy, running for Mayor -- knowing that in Brooklyn, in particular, where the first one would be built in the Brooklyn Navy Yard - the plant vigorously opposed by the Satmar, a Jewish Hasidic group, and voted no on the entire plan. So she became a hero to the Satmar and all other opponents to the plan. Now what was interesting was that Satmar is not known for supporting women candidates running for anything, certainly in a race between a male Jewish candidate and a female non-Jewish candidate. The expectation would be that they would support the Jewish candidate. But they were so mad at me because I was supporting the resource recovery plant that they supported her. She got wiped out (19% of the vote; it's a very poor showing). That year, after the primary, there was the marathon. My practice at that time was to get ahead of the runners, as they were running from Staten Island, across the Verrazano Bridge, and as I had just pulled the lanyard on the gun, getting them to start to run, I would get into this open touring car (a 1955 Chrysler Imperial convertible that had been sitting on blocks when I came, that we had the Chrysler company repair a their expense, about $100,000. It looked like the touring car of Adolph Hitler, it was so big. It was an incredible car). So I'm in it, and we're getting across the bridge. Then I would stop about 100 yards from where the first watering spot

was, run towards it and say, "Oh, water! Water!" like I had been in the marathon. "They're coming! They're coming!" and I would do that at each of the watering spots we stopped at on our way back to Manhattan. Then we got to Williamsburg, where the Satmar are in large number, and they had a watering spot. (It was wonderful to see all the ethnic communities out there with their watering holes, so to speak, to give the runners cups of water.) I get out of the car and I run, "They're coming! They're coming! Water! Water!" -- all theatrics -- and they applauded and gave me water. Then one of them says, "Mayor, we don't want the resource recovery plant." I looked at him and I said, "I lost in this district. You're getting two." [Laughter]

Mayor Koch at the start of the 1985 New York City Marathon in Staten Island. Photo taken by Holland Wemple.

Cartoon by Paul Rigby. Published in the New York Post, 1984.

Lieberman: What is this? Koch: [Laughs] Well, again, all of these figures, with the exception of the cop and the peddler, are me, and probably done somewhat close in time to the one we just discussed, making fun of me. My phrase, "How'm I doin'?" is repeated many times here. I think the book (Mayor) enhanced my reputation, even though people said, "You know, nobody's ever going to talk to you again, because they're afraid you'll reveal it." I said, "You don't understand them. Public officials are like Mafiosi. They know their phone is being tapped; they can't help it, they've got to talk anyway." Lieberman: What about this joke that you see in cartoons and with standup comedians about you and your ego and you're "everybody." This joke comes up all the time. What's your sense of that, both in terms of how true it is and why it's been labeled with you and not other politicians, who have the same Koch: You have to have an ego. That's coin-of-the-realm. Otherwise, you can't function. If you're a public figure, in New York in particular, but I think around the country -- let's take the President. He's constantly attacked. And when you know you're right -- if you didn't have an ego to stand up -- you'd cave. Lieberman: Why did they pick on you for this, as your tag-line? Koch: I believe that my redeeming characteristics that may be the easiest to pick on would be, one, I'm not a threatening-looking guy. I'm more avuncular. Two, I have a great sense of humor. Three, when I was Mayor, I dominated the city. The press. I was on the television tube every single night, and it was because I was Mayor, but Abe Beame was Mayor, too, and he wasn't on. My ability to sum up what was happening, with one-liners -- not foolish, necessarily funny one-liners -- but pithy one-liners -- lots of reporters said to me that what they appreciated was when they called me, whatever I said could be the close of their story -- which is a very important part of their story, the last paragraph. And I generally ended up in the last paragraph. Lieberman: And how about this famous phrase, "How'm I doin'?" Where'd that come from? Koch: Well, that's an interesting thing. That came when I ran for Congress and won, and I started (at least I think I started) the business of every Friday (because Congress was not in session) coming back to the district. There were

twenty-five subway stations and major bus stops. I'd go back to them at 7:00 in the morning, and I would hand out 500 statements that I'd made in the Congress, with a little box, and I would say, "If you agree with me, why don't you write to--?" And then suggest some city official, or some state official, or the President, "and send me a copy of the letter." That's how I built up my address book, so to speak, for future use. Thousands of people wrote. When I went to the subway and was handing them out, at 7:00 in the morning (my favorite subway was 77th Street and Lexington Avenue, but I went all around the district), people would just brush right by me, in the beginning. I was blocking their getting into the subway, going to work. Then one day, just serendipitously, I said, "I'm your congressman, I'm Ed Koch. How'm I doin'?" and people stopped. They'd never been asked that question before. As a result of that, they would tell me. Most of the time, "Good," sometimes "Not so good." And it became my trademark. Everybody heard it. Then I put it on my literature -- "How'm I doin'?" -- and then I took it to the mayoralty.

Representative Koch campaigning for re-election at Columbus Circle, 1970.

Cartoon by Paul Rigby. Published in the Daily News, circa 1985.

Koch: Let's see. Well -- and all of the pictures are of me -- the director, producer. It's very funny. It says, "Cast of victims in order of appearance: Jimmy Carter, Carol Bellamy, Hugh Carey," it lists every politician. I wrote a book called Mayor, which I'm very proud of and is my best book. What I'm particularly proud of is that it received an extraordinary review by a major Times reporter, who wrote a book on the Times. Gay Talese. He was given the book to review, and in his review he talked about how this was a new genre -- of writing a book not after you leave, but while you're there. It was so funny, he said; he kept laughing as he read it to his wife Nan (who's a major figure in the publishing industry). Lieberman: It was funny Koch: He said it was unique, "a new genre." It sold 153,000 copies, and it was on the New York Times bestseller list for twenty-one weeks. Isn't that nice? So Rigby's making fun of it in a way, but also making nice by saying, "Son of Mayor" may be the next book, or what have you. It's making fun of me, and I love it. I remember having a press conference, at the request of the media, about the book. There were twelve TV cameras, the Blue room at City Hall was filled with people I'd never seen before -- reporters -- and one young woman I didn't know raised her hand, and I recognized her. She said, in a very flippant way, "Mayor, how do we know you wrote this book?" I said, "It's easy. Close your eyes, and have the guy next to you read the book aloud. You'll hear my voice." It's true. It has my voice on every page. Lieberman: And the origins of what got you to write the book? Where did you get the idea? Was it your first book? I sense it was your first book. So where did you get the idea to even write a book? It was a new genre. Who suggested it? Or did you -- ? Koch: Well, I really don't recall. I collaborated with my press secretary, Bill Rauch, and he may have suggested it. Dan Wolf might have suggested it. I just really don't know, but I thought it was a wonderful idea. I never taped anybody, but after I had had a particularly good conversation that was interesting, on the business of government, I would write it down. I don't feel that, even on the occasion when I wrote things that were disparaging, by revealing the conversation -- I didn't appoint these people. They're coming to see me on matters of public business. I have a right, in my judgment, to reveal those conversations on matters of public business. He did not. Lieberman: And this taking notes, which you could refer to. Was this something you had done throughout your whole

career, and continued to do? Or was it just a moment in time, when you just decided, "I'll take notes." Was there a diary that you kept? I'm calling it a diary, but just some notes that kept Koch: When I was doing this book I did make the notes which were the basis of the book. I was never going to tape anybody. You had the Nixon tapes, you know. I never did that. No. Lieberman: So the notes were sort of based for the book; after the book came out, you stopped the notes. But that led you to other books. Koch: Yes. Lieberman: You liked it. You enjoyed it. Koch: I love writing. I think that's made my career, currently. My commentaries are highly regarded. Lieberman: And it's always your voice.

Promotional material for Mayor Koch’s book Mayor, circa 1985.