NY Senate coup leaves policy, dignity in its wake

[June 25, 2009]  ALBANY, N.Y. (AP) -- It should have been clear when state Democratic senators resorted to flicking off the chamber lights to try to thwart a shocking Republican power grab that this wouldn't be the brightest moment in New York politics.

But that's how the saga began more than two weeks ago. Since then, the words farce, circus, embarrassment, disgrace and sham have surfaced on editorial pages as the playground-worthy fight spins out. Democrats have locked Senate doors and cabinets against a coalition of Republicans and two dissident Democrats, who produced a mysterious key to open them. Bills have been hidden while rogues and turncoats have emerged.

It climaxed Tuesday with a surreal display of simultaneous sessions in the Senate chamber, the factions shouting over -- and at -- each other. Democrats stayed in their seats for the Pledge of Allegiance to spite Republicans who started the pledge. As a Democrat banged with one gavel at the podium, protected by the sergeant at arms, a Republican banged on a reporter's desk with another. One senator exclaimed, "Duh!"

And Gov. David Paterson called for another "extraordinary session" Wednesday. It fared no better.

Democrats occupied the chamber at 6 a.m., working in shifts to hold the seat of the presiding officer and to hold the gavel. At the scheduled 3 p.m. start of the session, Democrats immediately questioned Paterson's authority to call just one house of the Legislature into extraordinary session, saying the state constitution required Paterson to call the Assembly in, too.

It lasted four minutes.

Democrats started to go home, agreeing with Republicans on one thing: They didn't have to obey Paterson's order because it was flawed.

An angry Paterson responded: "You're not going home. You're not getting paid. And you're not going to disrespect the people of the state of New York any longer."

He demanded an assurance by leaders that they would stay until their work was finished. If not, the governor said, he would go to court to compel them to return -- possibly with state police escorts -- and try to deny their pay and perks.

It's a fight for the near absolute power and lucrative perks of majority control in New York's senior house, a normally sedate and stately place steeped in history since it was created in 1777 and peopled by such leaders as a young Sen. Franklin D. Roosevelt.

In the balance are millions of dollars in essential borrowing for the state and local governments already in a recession, a bill to continue mayoral control of New York City schools and a measure to determine the fate of same-sex marriage.

The coup began June 8 when Thomas Libous, R-Binghamton, presented what appeared to be a routine bill to the Senate's presiding officer at the time, Neil Breslin, D-Albany. Following the chamber's rules, Breslin started reading the bill.

The trap was set.

The motion called for replacing the Democrats' top two officers and turning over Senate control. Democrats hemmed and hawed, countered at every turn by Republicans.

"It's a coup!" uttered Sen. Ruben Diaz, D-the Bronx. On the Senate floor, Libous loudly told the stunned Democratic leadership, frantically whispering into phones about legal options, to act on his motion or step down.

"I move that we adjourn!" shouted Sen. Jeffrey Klein, D-the Bronx.

"Roll call! Roll call!" Libous shouted back, windmilling his hand to keep the parliamentary plotters moving.

The Democrats stormed out, cut the lights, TV and Internet feeds, and silenced the microphones.

In 26 minutes, 30 Republicans and two dissident Democrats from New York City had seized control.

But ruling proved harder than overthrowing.

One of the plotters, Sen. Hiram Monserrate, D-Queens, who faces an assault charge involving a glass-slashing injury to his girlfriend, bolted back to the Democratic party and confusion turned to chaos as the Senate was left split, 31-31.

Closed-door meetings were quickly held and the case went to court, only to have a judge say the judiciary shouldn't solve the legislative branch's problems. In one meeting, Klein and Sen. Pedro Espada, D-the Bronx, the coalition's choice for Senate president who is also facing campaign law violations, nearly came to blows, according to two people who were there.

Meanwhile, the New York Post hired a clown who mugged with stone-faced senators in blue pinstriped suits.

Paterson ordered them into special session at 3 p.m. Tuesday. The coalition immediately called a meeting for 2 p.m., hoping to seize the gavel and run the session. But Democrats sneaked into the chamber at 12:30 p.m., grabbed the gavel and rostrum, then locked the door. At 2:30, they allowed in the Republicans.

Instead of a constitutional "extraordinary session," the bizarre simultaneous session ensued.

At one point, Sen. George Winner, R-Elmira, trying to conduct the coalition's session from the row of antique desks with brass ink wells reserved for reporters, told Sen. Ruth Hassell-Thompson, D-the Bronx, who was laughing: "You're out of order!"

Hassell-Thompson barked back, "Don't you dare tell me I'm out of order!"

Sixteen days after the coup, leadership is still a puzzle and the Senate, once derided as one-half of the nation's most dysfunctional legislature, is still idling in neutral.

"Nobody is proud over what has happened over the last couple of weeks," said Sen. Malcolm Smith, who brought the Democrats into the majority on a promise of reforming government, only to lose his leadership post in the power grab. "I'm not even going to debate whether the means justify the end."

[Associated Press; By MICHAEL GORMLEY]

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