It would be quite insincere for somebody in the news media (take me, if you can stand it) to claim that the kind of shenanigans animating Yorktown of late are shocking, simply shocking (OK, so my acting ain’t exactly Claude Rains-esque). It’s simply human nature at work, in all its vainglory.
No matter where you turn, there’s indignation and allegation. I ran into Eric DiBartolo at Starbucks on Monday, hanging out with Mike Dubovsky. I always enjoy them both, apart or together. They’re easy to chat with, hang out with, and always full of information. (Besides, not everybody enjoys having a journo hovering around them — really?! — so I’m thankful anywhere that’ll have me.)
Eric and Mike are among the lifelong Yorktowners I’ve gotten to know and appreciate in the past three-plus years I’ve been hunkered down at what I’ve unabashedly taken to calling The First Paper of Yorktown and Yorktown’s Paper of Record. Both taglines are documentable, so why not tell it like it is. (May Howard Cosell rest in peace.)
Eric and Mike shared some nuggets with me that we’re probing, and you may yet read about in our pages one day soon. I immediately noticed something about Eric as soon as I alit from my jalopy. It turns out he, like me, has gotten the religion of get-fit-quick. He’s 30 pounds lighter, via Metafast, and has an unmistakable glow. Keep it up — or off — my friend. I haven’t felt this good in too long a time myself. There’s no business like stay fitness.
An intriguing analogy occurred to me re the back-and-forth between Eric and new Yorktown Supervisor Susan Siegel, who somehow seems like she’s been on the job three months instead of three weeks. Never a dull moment in Get Yer Ya-Yas Out Yorktown.
In Super Susan’s deliberative style, she’s been compared — not at all coincidentally — to Linda Cooper, the 12-year supervisor who elected not to run for re-election and since fall 2007 has been village manager in Ossining. But, according to well-placed if biased sources, she left her heart in Town Hall and reportedly, the scuttlebutt has it, is finely tuned in to back channels. Does that make her Susan Siegel’s alleged Karl Rove? Functionally, perhaps. Politically, please.
But one might also compare the current supervisor’s focused, disciplined, policy-wonkish ways to a certain current U.S. President. Everything must be by the book for the bookish, and when it seems not to be by the book, but by hook or crook, there’s a reasonable-sounding reason why. Transparency drives the rhetoric, though it may not also drive the process. (Secret meetings to hire a new water department head, anybody? Aah, that’s all water under the bridge.)
By contrast, one might compare the current highway superintendent’s take-n0-prisoners, get-the-job-done-at-all-costs work ethic to a certain immediate past U.S. President, who didn’t much care what his critics said or how they carped about his style. In the end, a la Sinatra, he did it his way, no apologies. You want results, I give you results.
So there you have it. What, I’m not sure. But there it is nonetheless. Other day I was asked if I thought Eric would run/could win as Yorktown supervisor. My reply was that nobody has higher name recognition in Yorktown than Eric DiBartolo.
[In fact, I recall when our family moved to Yorktown in 1993, his was probably the first town official’s name with which we were familiar, and it had a very positive connotation, associated with the consistently efficient and quick job his crews did clearing snow during storms. That’s no spin. That’s just him.]
The real answer to the question, then, is less about Eric than about who his opponent would be in a supervisor race. Different elections turn on different dynamics. Linda Cooper won re-election five times on a record of diligence and competence. A proficient ice hockey athlete who started her own competitive rec league team, Cooper also exhibited good timing in knowing when enough is enough. Don Peters won election on sky-high name recognition and likability. Susan Siegel won on backlash and voter frustration.
Until the last election, nobody was running to run against Eric for highway superintendent. Then Steve Gardner and Greg Bernard picked up the gauntlet — that Eric had not thrown down — but though they both had the chops, Eric had the well-oiled machinery humming his tune: all party lines were lined up at attention and saluting dutifully. No matter what his detractors may say, I’ve never seen anybody better at political infighting than this gent. You better come at him with all you’ve got, and even when you do, prepare to meet thy doom.
The $64,000 Question now is whether there ever will be another election in Yorktown for highway superintendent. Not if Super Susan gets her way and converts the position to an appointment. For Eric, it would be an appointment with destiny. What nobody else could do at the polls The Super Siegelvisor might yet do with the wave of her legislative wand: vanquish the elected position altogether.
Augie’s vs. Viagra
Last Friday, Elyse and I were part of a party of eight hosted by Carla Chase and Frank Rich at Augie’s Prime Cut in Mohegan Lake. That’s the place I’ve been blogging and Facebooking about (or is that about Facebooking?) lately because of its Augie’s Idol singamathingathon. (As for me, I couldn’t carry a tune if it was inside an ultralightweight roll-on travelbag.)
Elyse was swooning, but it wasn’t over me. It was over her grouper swimming in pistachio sauce. After watching her heavenly reaction to that piece of dead fish, I might as well forsake the Viagra, and find out if grouper qualifies for copay.
I was swooning too, but in addition to it being over Elyse, it was over my Oscar filet mignon, crowned with crabmeat and gorgonzola cheese. Yum-yum in the tum-tum.
We never had supped at Augie’s ere this, and were duly impressed, though we already heard tell from others the food was nothing to writhe home about, but was instead something to swoon over. Or maybe they said spoon over, but this is a family restaurant, after all; still, that didn’t stop Augie’s from expecting us, as with every patron, to fork over the dough after we got the check. What the heck, I say: knife work if you can get it!
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