The Sunday New York Times did an engaging profile on Ed Koch.
The salty figure pontificates on his burial plot, his run as mayor in the Big Apple and his faith.
And don't ask if he's gay!!!
I posted the article below so you don't have to search all over for it.
Do any of you readers read the Times. I am wondering how long it takes you to get through the Sunday paper.
Yesterday, it took me 3 1/2 hours--this is front page to last page of the sections reading every article-- to read the Front Page section, Week In Review, and Sunday Style.
It's Monday NOW and I have to finish the Sunday Business Week, The Arts, and The Sunday Magazine.
It always takes me a good hour to read the Front section.
Am I the only one???
March 1, 2009
Koch Makes His Peace and Dares to Look Ahead
By SAM ROBERTS
He’s already installed and inscribed his tombstone. He’s recruited a rabbi to preside over his funeral. He’s been saying some goodbyes. He insists he no longer carries any grudges; well, maybe just a few. He’s issued an apology or two and even confesses to a few regrets as mayor.
Ed Koch, at 84, isn’t dead yet.
But the former mayor — still looming though stooped from stenosis, a spinal degeneration — is philosophically confronting his own mortality. His is a life that has played out mostly in the public eye, and now, perhaps appropriately, so are many of his preparations for the beyond.
“We all die,” he said over lunch in Midtown the other day, his words unequivocal but his voice raspy. “Whenever he or she wants me, I go.”
Not surprisingly, though, Edward I. Koch, New York’s 105th mayor, proposed several conditions for whenever the time comes. Having survived a stroke in 1987 and a heart attack in 1999, he said he has no desire to linger: “I had a conversation with God: ‘Take me totally or don’t take me. No salami tactics.’ He’s been very good about it.”
“I want to die at my desk,” Mr. Koch added.
The former mayor is at his desk daily (he is a partner at the Manhattan offices of Bryan Cave, a law firm). He begrudgingly exercises at a gym several days a week and goes for rehabilitation for the spinal condition. He lunches every Saturday with a regular group of about 10 alumni of his administration. He doesn’t march in parades any more, except for St. Patrick’s Day, and says he is through writing books.
“After eight autobiographies and two children’s books,” he said, “I don’t think I have anything left in me.”
Mr. Koch also insists that while the fight hasn’t gone out of him — he is particularly concerned about anti-Semitism and wants to bring Jews and Catholics closer together — he picks his fights more carefully. He says he is sorry for having started some and has unilaterally declared a cease-fire for others.
“I’m not settling any scores,” he said. “I absolutely have no grudges. That’s over with. It’s not that I love those people. I don’t, but it takes too much energy if you think about who injured you.”
Of all the grudges he has held, the one that people who know Mr. Koch figured he would carry to his grave was with Mario M. Cuomo, whom he defeated for mayor in 1977 and who was later elected governor. But there is evidence of rapprochement.
Yes, it’s true, the former mayor said, he did pointedly refer to Mr. Cuomo by a very disparaging epithet several years ago in a recorded interview with The New York Times that is not to be made public until after Mr. Koch’s death. Reminded of the remark, he laughed heartily, and did not take it back.
“I told the truth as I felt it then,” he said. “But it all worked out.”
Mr. Koch’s anger was originally triggered by placards that sprouted in the 1977 mayoral campaign that said “Vote for Cuomo, not the homo.” The Koch camp blamed Cuomo operatives. Mr. Cuomo has always disclaimed any responsibility.
“If anything, I thought it was done by someone who wanted to see me lose,” Mr. Cuomo recalled last week. “I never did anything like that and it was a wrong thing to do, whoever did it; it was ugly and unfair. If he believed I did it and forgave me for it, that was kind of him. I always liked him and respected him however he felt about me.”
In December, Mr. Cuomo invited himself to a birthday party for the mayor at Gracie Mansion and offered a gracious tribute. Mr. Koch was moved. He recalled: “Mario always told people, ‘I like Ed a lot more than he likes me.’ The first time he said that, I replied, ‘You’re right, Mario.’ But that’s over with. He said he was sorry.”
(For the record, Mr. Koch, a lifelong bachelor, declines to say whether he is gay. “I do not want to add to the acceptability of asking every candidate, ‘Are you straight or gay or lesbian?’ and make it a legitimate question, so I don’t submit to that question. I don’t care if people think I’m gay because I don’t answer it. I’m flattered that at 84 people are interested in my sex life — and, it’s quite limited.”)
Mr. Koch said he also no longer holds a grudge against Bernard Rome, a former campaign treasurer, whom he fired as head of the Off-Track Betting Corporation for publicly opposing casino gambling.
“Bernie Rome called me years later and wanted to meet,” Mr. Koch recalled. “I said to my secretary, ‘Tell him I have no desire to.’ I don’t hold a grudge, but I don’t have to become his buddy.”
Mr. Koch is certain of his legacy — restoring New Yorkers’ self-confidence after the city’s fiscal crisis of the mid-1970s, balancing the budget, rebuilding the Bronx and instituting a merit selection for the appointment of judges. (He was feted last year by some of the 140 he appointed: “They wanted to say goodbye,” Mr. Koch said.)
Mr. Koch does not typically second-guess himself, but feels guilty over one nagging regret: his decision to shutter Sydenham Hospital in Harlem, both to save money and because of complaints about the quality of health care there.
“I fought,” he said. “We closed it. We did the right thing. But, in retrospect, it was the wrong thing to do. The total amount saved was $9 million, but there was such a psychological attachment to Sydenham because black doctors couldn’t get into other hospitals. It was the psychological attachment that I violated. That was uncaring of me. They helped elect me and then in my zeal to do the right thing I did something now that I regret.”
Mr. Koch says he has few other major misgivings. “I’m sure there are things we could have done better, but in terms of waking up in the middle of the night and thinking of mistakes, no,” he said. “I’ve had a wonderful ride. I’ve done what I wanted to do.”
“I’m not morbid,” he added. “How many 84-year-olds do you know who are as active as I am? Not many. And how many 84-year-olds do you see in obituaries? A lot. But I believe I have another five years.”
Whenever the ride is over, his funeral service will be held at Temple Emanu-El in Manhattan. He has given his sister the names of several potential speakers, but has not made any other arrangements, including the music (“I love the Catholic hymns,” he said, “but they can’t be sung even in Temple Emanu-El”).
He will be buried in the nondenominational Trinity Church Cemetery in Upper Manhattan under a tombstone that quotes the last words of Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter beheaded in 2002 by Islamic terrorists (“My father is Jewish, my mother is Jewish, I am Jewish”) and includes the most familiar Jewish prayer, in English and Hebrew, (“Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One”) and the epitaph the former mayor wrote after his stroke:
“He was fiercely proud of his Jewish faith. He fiercely defended the City of New York, and he fiercely loved its people. Above all, he loved his country, the United States of America, in whose armed forces he served in World War II”
“That’s it,” Mr. Koch said. “It takes up the whole stone.”
He recalled the funeral for a much-loved mayor of Madrid: “Eight hundred thousand people turned out. That won’t happen with me,” he predicted, “but I hope a lot of people do go to the cemetery — which, by the way, is conveniently located at 155th and Broadway on the subway.”
New York has not lavished monuments on former mayors. The most famous memorial is La Guardia Airport. Mr. Koch, who was raised for 10 years in Newark, would not mind one of his own. “I have said — and it won’t happen — that I would like Newark Airport changed to E.I.K.,” he said. “Kind of rhymes with J.F.K.”
Koch Makes His Peace and Dares to Look Ahead
By SAM ROBERTS
He’s already installed and inscribed his tombstone. He’s recruited a rabbi to preside over his funeral. He’s been saying some goodbyes. He insists he no longer carries any grudges; well, maybe just a few. He’s issued an apology or two and even confesses to a few regrets as mayor.
Ed Koch, at 84, isn’t dead yet.
But the former mayor — still looming though stooped from stenosis, a spinal degeneration — is philosophically confronting his own mortality. His is a life that has played out mostly in the public eye, and now, perhaps appropriately, so are many of his preparations for the beyond.
“We all die,” he said over lunch in Midtown the other day, his words unequivocal but his voice raspy. “Whenever he or she wants me, I go.”
Not surprisingly, though, Edward I. Koch, New York’s 105th mayor, proposed several conditions for whenever the time comes. Having survived a stroke in 1987 and a heart attack in 1999, he said he has no desire to linger: “I had a conversation with God: ‘Take me totally or don’t take me. No salami tactics.’ He’s been very good about it.”
“I want to die at my desk,” Mr. Koch added.
The former mayor is at his desk daily (he is a partner at the Manhattan offices of Bryan Cave, a law firm). He begrudgingly exercises at a gym several days a week and goes for rehabilitation for the spinal condition. He lunches every Saturday with a regular group of about 10 alumni of his administration. He doesn’t march in parades any more, except for St. Patrick’s Day, and says he is through writing books.
“After eight autobiographies and two children’s books,” he said, “I don’t think I have anything left in me.”
Mr. Koch also insists that while the fight hasn’t gone out of him — he is particularly concerned about anti-Semitism and wants to bring Jews and Catholics closer together — he picks his fights more carefully. He says he is sorry for having started some and has unilaterally declared a cease-fire for others.
“I’m not settling any scores,” he said. “I absolutely have no grudges. That’s over with. It’s not that I love those people. I don’t, but it takes too much energy if you think about who injured you.”
Of all the grudges he has held, the one that people who know Mr. Koch figured he would carry to his grave was with Mario M. Cuomo, whom he defeated for mayor in 1977 and who was later elected governor. But there is evidence of rapprochement.
Yes, it’s true, the former mayor said, he did pointedly refer to Mr. Cuomo by a very disparaging epithet several years ago in a recorded interview with The New York Times that is not to be made public until after Mr. Koch’s death. Reminded of the remark, he laughed heartily, and did not take it back.
“I told the truth as I felt it then,” he said. “But it all worked out.”
Mr. Koch’s anger was originally triggered by placards that sprouted in the 1977 mayoral campaign that said “Vote for Cuomo, not the homo.” The Koch camp blamed Cuomo operatives. Mr. Cuomo has always disclaimed any responsibility.
“If anything, I thought it was done by someone who wanted to see me lose,” Mr. Cuomo recalled last week. “I never did anything like that and it was a wrong thing to do, whoever did it; it was ugly and unfair. If he believed I did it and forgave me for it, that was kind of him. I always liked him and respected him however he felt about me.”
In December, Mr. Cuomo invited himself to a birthday party for the mayor at Gracie Mansion and offered a gracious tribute. Mr. Koch was moved. He recalled: “Mario always told people, ‘I like Ed a lot more than he likes me.’ The first time he said that, I replied, ‘You’re right, Mario.’ But that’s over with. He said he was sorry.”
(For the record, Mr. Koch, a lifelong bachelor, declines to say whether he is gay. “I do not want to add to the acceptability of asking every candidate, ‘Are you straight or gay or lesbian?’ and make it a legitimate question, so I don’t submit to that question. I don’t care if people think I’m gay because I don’t answer it. I’m flattered that at 84 people are interested in my sex life — and, it’s quite limited.”)
Mr. Koch said he also no longer holds a grudge against Bernard Rome, a former campaign treasurer, whom he fired as head of the Off-Track Betting Corporation for publicly opposing casino gambling.
“Bernie Rome called me years later and wanted to meet,” Mr. Koch recalled. “I said to my secretary, ‘Tell him I have no desire to.’ I don’t hold a grudge, but I don’t have to become his buddy.”
Mr. Koch is certain of his legacy — restoring New Yorkers’ self-confidence after the city’s fiscal crisis of the mid-1970s, balancing the budget, rebuilding the Bronx and instituting a merit selection for the appointment of judges. (He was feted last year by some of the 140 he appointed: “They wanted to say goodbye,” Mr. Koch said.)
Mr. Koch does not typically second-guess himself, but feels guilty over one nagging regret: his decision to shutter Sydenham Hospital in Harlem, both to save money and because of complaints about the quality of health care there.
“I fought,” he said. “We closed it. We did the right thing. But, in retrospect, it was the wrong thing to do. The total amount saved was $9 million, but there was such a psychological attachment to Sydenham because black doctors couldn’t get into other hospitals. It was the psychological attachment that I violated. That was uncaring of me. They helped elect me and then in my zeal to do the right thing I did something now that I regret.”
Mr. Koch says he has few other major misgivings. “I’m sure there are things we could have done better, but in terms of waking up in the middle of the night and thinking of mistakes, no,” he said. “I’ve had a wonderful ride. I’ve done what I wanted to do.”
“I’m not morbid,” he added. “How many 84-year-olds do you know who are as active as I am? Not many. And how many 84-year-olds do you see in obituaries? A lot. But I believe I have another five years.”
Whenever the ride is over, his funeral service will be held at Temple Emanu-El in Manhattan. He has given his sister the names of several potential speakers, but has not made any other arrangements, including the music (“I love the Catholic hymns,” he said, “but they can’t be sung even in Temple Emanu-El”).
He will be buried in the nondenominational Trinity Church Cemetery in Upper Manhattan under a tombstone that quotes the last words of Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter beheaded in 2002 by Islamic terrorists (“My father is Jewish, my mother is Jewish, I am Jewish”) and includes the most familiar Jewish prayer, in English and Hebrew, (“Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One”) and the epitaph the former mayor wrote after his stroke:
“He was fiercely proud of his Jewish faith. He fiercely defended the City of New York, and he fiercely loved its people. Above all, he loved his country, the United States of America, in whose armed forces he served in World War II”
“That’s it,” Mr. Koch said. “It takes up the whole stone.”
He recalled the funeral for a much-loved mayor of Madrid: “Eight hundred thousand people turned out. That won’t happen with me,” he predicted, “but I hope a lot of people do go to the cemetery — which, by the way, is conveniently located at 155th and Broadway on the subway.”
New York has not lavished monuments on former mayors. The most famous memorial is La Guardia Airport. Mr. Koch, who was raised for 10 years in Newark, would not mind one of his own. “I have said — and it won’t happen — that I would like Newark Airport changed to E.I.K.,” he said. “Kind of rhymes with J.F.K.”
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