march 16–29, 2020 | new york 27
PHOTOGRAPH: COURTESY OF GUNARATNA.out of even the most hearty souls.
“I’m not happy,” he clarified when the
question was put to him later in his office.
“I like opening airports. I like cutting ribbons
at construction sites. I like passing legisla-
tion. This isn’t happy, it’s adrenaline. When a
bear is charging at you, if you are not ener-
gized, you are dead.”
Cuomo will forever remain a difficult figure
to like: a cravenly political governor whose sig-
nificant liberal accomplishments have come
about through mercurial wheeling and dealing.
He doesn’t aim to inspire; he aims to deliver,
preferably with the other side’s throat cut along
the way. But in moments like this, when the
world is gripped by panic and other parts of the
government are flailing, Cuomo is in his ele-
ment. Every day it is something new. A contain-
ment zone inside New Rochelle. Wrestling new
powers from the Legislature to combat the cri-
sis. And, as ugly as it looks, getting state prison-
ers to manufacture hand sanitizer because
somehow the entire country has run out.
This isn’t wrangling with the Legislature
over Medicaid reimbursement rates or
property-tax caps. But Cuomoism from the
get-go has been about proving that govern-
ment can solve concrete and material prob-
lems. Do that—fix the roads, build the schools,
and clean up after disasters, whether it be
Hurricane Sandy or snowstorms in Buffalo or
taking over the rebuilding in Puerto Rico—
and you can convince people that the rest of
the government they pay for can solve other,
more entrenched problems.
Coronavirus, the governor believes, is not
that kind of problem. Yes, it’s a virus, and it’s
highly contagious, but it can be isolated and
contained and it will run its course. His frustra-
tion is aimed at the federal government, which
is operating like a shambolic merchant of chaos
and so has made a manageable crisis into an
unfolding, cascading series of disasters.
So first you need to test, Cuomo told me on
Tuesday. As it stood, if someone felt sick, and if
epidemiological investigators determined that
person had contact with someone with the dis-
ease, a State Police cruiser would come and
pick up a sample and drive it to a lab in Albany.
At most, it could test 200 samples a day. “Two
hundred! It’s nothing. That covers just the neu-
rotic people in my own family,” he said.
The governor has been through this before.
He spent eight years at the Department of
Housing and Urban Development dealing
with one disaster after another, and in New
York it’s been the same thing: floods, bliz-
zards, hurricanes. He still remembers a time
25 years ago, in Florida, when a state trooper
was directing traffic from people fleeing a hur-
ricane, and one driver wouldn’t heed his stopTHERE ARE CERTAIN THINGS you are Very Much Not Supposed to Do
at times like this, and Andrew Cuomo was doing them. He was shak-
ing hands. He was touching his face. And not in an index-finger-on-
the-temple kind of a way but full-on, in the way of a very tired, very
frustrated person. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. He rubbed his
eyes with his palms. The governor was camped in a conference room
in Albany on Tuesday afternoon, March 10, just as, down in Wash-
ington, D.C., Donald Trump was telling reporters, “Just stay calm, it
will go away,” while his top health official was saying that, in point of
fact, Americans should prepare for a long and debilitating crisis.
Cuomo was on the phone, calling various hospital administrators
and health officials from around the state, trying to figure out how
soon they could get a coronavirus test up and running, and rubbing
a finger across his forehead in a universal sign of nervousness.
The mood in the room, however, was
light. Speaking to one health-care exec-
utive, Cuomo adopted (or tried to, at
least) the Irish brogue of the person on
the other end of the line. “I’m from
County Cork, yeah. I’m coming right
there to play footie.”
Quickly, he cut to the chase. New York
would soon pass 200 cases, and Cuomo
was trying to prod the federal govern-
ment to let the state administer its own
tests. He calls it “peeling the onion,” but
it is more like a dicing.
“Who has the authority to do this?,” heasked. “Do you? You just said you did.”
And, at another point, to a different
administrator in a series of calls that take
up most of the afternoon: “I don’t want it
to get caught up in the bureaucracy. That
would take months.” Or again: “You have
to strip it down to what it actually is, and
then you have to get it done. If we do this
right, it would be a big deal.”
It is hard not to notice, in the midst of
all this war-gaming of a crisis, that
Andrew Cuomo is happy. He seems to
have an energy, a spring in his step, that
the usual Albany back-and-forth sucksTh e BullyGovernorMeetsHis Momentby david freedlanderY ___ DD ___ AD ___ PD ___ EICTRANSMITTED________ COPY ___ DD ___ AD ___ PD ___ EIC0620FEA_Corona_lay [Print]_36899495.indd 27 3/13/20 9:55 PMmarch16–29, 2020 | newyork 27out of even the most hearty souls.
“I’m not happy,” he clarified when the
question was put to him later in his office.
“I like opening airports. I like cutting ribbons
at construction sites. I like passing legisla-
tion. This isn’t happy, it’s adrenaline. When a
bear is charging at you, if you are not ener-
gized, you are dead.”
Cuomo will forever remain a difficult figure
to like: a cravenly political governor whose sig-
nificant liberal accomplishments have come
about through mercurial wheeling and dealing.
He doesn’t aim to inspire; he aims to deliver,
preferably with the other side’s throat cut along
the way. But in moments like this, when the
world is gripped by panic and other parts of the
government are flailing, Cuomo is in his ele-
ment. Every day it is something new. A contain-
ment zone inside New Rochelle. Wrestling new
powers from the Legislature to combat the cri-
sis. And, as ugly as it looks, getting state prison-
ers to manufacture hand sanitizer because
somehow the entire country has run out.
This isn’t wrangling with the Legislature
over Medicaid reimbursement rates or
property-tax caps. But Cuomoism from the
get-go has been about proving that govern-
ment can solve concrete and material prob-
lems. Do that—fix the roads, build the schools,
and clean up after disasters, whether it be
Hurricane Sandy or snowstorms in Buffalo or
taking over the rebuilding in Puerto Rico—
and you can convince people that the rest of
the government they pay for can solve other,
more entrenched problems.
Coronavirus, the governor believes, is not
that kind of problem. Yes, it’s a virus, and it’s
highly contagious, but it can be isolated and
contained and it will run its course. His frustra-
tion is aimed at the federal government, which
is operating like a shambolic merchant of chaos
and so has made a manageable crisis into an
unfolding, cascading series of disasters.
So first you need to test, Cuomo told me on
Tuesday. As it stood, if someone felt sick, and if
epidemiological investigators determined that
person had contact with someone with the dis-
ease, a State Police cruiser would come and
pick up a sample and drive it to a lab in Albany.
At most, it could test 200 samples a day. “Two
hundred! It’s nothing. That covers just the neu-
rotic people in my own family,” he said.
The governor has been through this before.
He spent eight years at the Department of
Housing and Urban Development dealing
with one disaster after another, and in New
York it’s been the same thing: floods, bliz-
zards, hurricanes. He still remembers a time
25 years ago, in Florida, when a state trooper
was directing traffic from people fleeing a hur-
ricane, and one driver wouldn’t heed his stopTHEREARECERTAINTHINGSyouareVeryMuchNot Supposed to Do
attimeslike this,andAndrew Cuomowasdoingthem. He was shak-
inghands.Hewastouchinghisface.Andnotinan index-finger-on-
the-templekindofa waybutfull-on,intheway of a very tired, very
frustratedperson.He squeezedthebridge ofhisnose. He rubbed his
eyeswithhispalms.Thegovernorwascampedina conference room
in Albany on Tuesday afternoon, March 10, just as, down in Wash-
ington, D.C., Donald Trump was telling reporters, “Just stay calm, it
will go away,” while his top health official was saying that, in point of
fact, Americans should prepare for a long and debilitating crisis.
Cuomo was on the phone, calling various hospital administrators
and health officials from around the state, trying to figure out how
soon they could get a coronavirus test up and running, and rubbing
a finger across his forehead in a universal sign of nervousness.
The mood in the room, however, was
light. Speaking to one health-care exec-
utive, Cuomo adopted (or tried to, at
least) the Irish brogue of the person on
the other end of the line. “I’m from
County Cork, yeah. I’m coming right
there to play footie.”
Quickly, he cut to the chase. New York
would soon pass 200 cases, and Cuomo
was trying to prod the federal govern-
ment to let the state administer its own
tests. He calls it “peeling the onion,” but
it is more like a dicing.
“Who has the authority to do this?,” he
asked. “Do you? You just said you did.”
And, at another point, to a different
administrator in a series of calls that take
up most of the afternoon: “I don’t want it
to get caught up in the bureaucracy. That
would take months.” Or again: “You have
to strip it down to what it actually is, and
then you have to get it done. If we do this
right, it would be a big deal.”
It is hard not to notice, in the midst of
all this war-gaming of a crisis, that
Andrew Cuomo is happy. He seems to
have an energy, a spring in his step, that
the usual Albany back-and-forth sucksTh e BullyGovernorMeetsHis Momentby david freedlander