Jersey City elects a Republican-Mayor - Mayor Bret Schundler

Until recently, Jersey City, New Jersey was a typical urban wasteland of 230,000 people with a long history of corrupt government by political machine. Today, it has a very atypical mayor: 34-year-old Republican investment banker Bret Schundler, whose agenda looks as if it were crafted by Jack Kemp and Bill Bennett. His election last November and re-election in May has conservative Republicans crowing, though he insists he is a "revolutionary," not a conservative.

He may not be that much of a Republican either.

Out of Chaos

Schundler began his political life as director of Democrat Gary Harts presidential campaign in the 1984 New Jersey primary. He might have made his first race for public office as a Democrat as well, but party nominations have a historical tendency to be closed affairs in New Jersey, particularly in Hudson County. Blocked by the party machinery in his efforts to run for state senator in 1991, Schundler switched his registration to Republican and polled 45 percent against an entrenched Democrat in a heavily Democratic district that included much of Jersey City.

When mayor Gerald McCann resigned last year after being convicted of fraud in connection with his private business, 19 candidates cluttered the November special election ballot, hoping to serve out his term. Schundler was the lone Republican in the officially non-partisan race, and he continued to luck out in several respects.

Hudson County Executive Robert Janiszewski -- the latter- day equivalent of the local Democratic boss -- was off running Bill Clinton's presidential campaign in the state, and not minding the political store at the local level. Formerly the Democratic party chair of both the city and county organizations, Janiszewski was already losing his grip on the local machinery. New county chair Bruce Walters had positioned himself as a counterweight to the boss's power.

These factors -- combined with the quick, unforeseen campaign frame of a special election -- made the Jersey city contest a wide-open free-for-all.

"Things were so splintered, a number of groups could have won if they had only gotten their act together," assesses Schundler consultant Mark Campbell. "The black community could have elected one of their own if they had united behind one candidate, but there were three blacks in the race." There were also one too many Manzos.

Hudson' County freeholder Lou Manzo was well-funded and backed by Janiszewski; by all rights, he was a solid favorite. But brother Alan Manzo -- a local community activist -- also entered the race, spent most of his energy attacking Lou, and made headlines in the closing days when he was arrested for assaulting one of his sibling's campaign workers.

Hardly anyone expected Schundler to be a serious contender, so conditioned were people to the legend of Jersey city as a bastion of Democratic big city machinery. After all, this had been the bailiwick of Boss Frank ("I am the Law") Hague, Democratic mayor for 32 years (1917-49) and one of the most powerful politicians in the country. (Hague was so brazenly corrupt, he had his desk in City Hail rigged so he could shove a drawer into the lap of the visitor seated opposite him for the deposit of bribes.) The Democratic machine here became so powerful, the party retains a 12:1 advantage in voter registration to this day.

Jersey City changed markedly in the three decades following the Hague regime, and not for the better. By 1980, its population had fallen to 1910 levels and its derelict factories and seedy tenements gave it the eerie presence of a ghost town looming across the Hudson River from the international nerve center of Manhat- tan. The 1980s brought a modest Renaissance of sorts, with the construction of huge condominium and office projects on the riverfront and the establishment of a strong gentrification movement inland The resulting influx of yuppies -- combined with a slightly earlier invasion by conservative Cuban refugees -- gave the dry its first significant base of Republican voters in three generations.

Given all the late-breaking trends and peculiar circumstances, the initial election of Bret Schundler with a minuscule 16 percent of the vote -- narrowly edging Manzo in a light turnout -- hardly qualifies as a bizarre event. It was largely the result of a quirky special election process that made no provision for runoffs.

"If there had been a runoff, Schundler would have lost," pronounces veteran Jersey GOP operative Alan Marcus, without a trace of doubt in his voice. The really remarkable accomplishment was the Republican mayor's shattering re-election a mere six months later.

Symbiotic Cincinnatus

Taking office immediately, Schundler wasted no time in seizing this opportunity. He would have to face the voters again in only six months -- May, 1992 -- and ask them for a full term. Schundler seemed to sense that -- in light of his constituency's partisan inclinations -- his only chance to stay in office was to build evidence that he was making a positive impact on the city. His truncated re-election campaign would be based on piling up accomplishments rather than PAC money.

His major coup during this brief trial period was persuading the state government to allow the city to sell off $40 million of tax liens to a banking house that would employ professionals in their collection. Solidly backed by Hudson County's all-Democratic organization, Schundler got approval from the legislature, but was temporarily stalled by a conditional veto from Gov. Jim Florio (D). Florio demanded a clause that would guarantee continued residency for tenants of the affected properties, and got it. Suddenly in possession of a $20 million windfall and a promissory note for millions more, Schundler slashed the property tax rate.

That was just the beginning. Schundler cut his own salary in half. He began putting more policemen on the street. He drafted an ambitious economic development plan -- in effect, making the city a giant enterprise zone -- and recruited major Manhattan developers and financiers to put it in motion. He went back to the legislature to lobby for another enabling act, this time to provide school vouchers to city residents rather than guarantee funding to the city's languishing public schools.

To push through his private initiative revolution, Schundler cobbled a reform slate together, fielding an allied council candidate in each of the city's nine wards. It was an eclectic group: A parochial schoolteacher, a social worker, two morticians, three blacks, three women, and two Hispanics -- one of them a protestant minister. Only two groups appeared to be overlooked on the Schundler slate: aside from the mayor, it contained only one incumbent and no Republicans. The team's slogan: "Less Crime. Lower Taxes. More Jobs."

The Democratic regulars were amused by "His Accidency's" rag-tag reform movement. They presumed that if they could get their own slate straight, the interloping yuppie mayor and his band of political wannabes would be mowed down by partisan pressures.

After the regulars had settled on Lou Manzo as their consensus candidate, professional electioneers from the Democratic National Committee were sent into what was supposed to be a non-partisan campaign. They tried to counter Schundler's populist appeal by attacking him as a wealthy stockbroker who had profited immensely from the trickle-down excesses of the Reagan-Bush years; a blueblood whose family had invested heavily in South Africa. The reverse racial card was played again when Manzo brought in Jesse Jackson for a three-day revival tour to push the class warfare case against Schundler.

But even powered by a war chest that reportedly approached $500,000, traditional campaigning, welfare-state liberalism, and partisan politics fell flat in today's Jersey City. Republican Schundler buried Manzo in a 38-point landslide, sweeping everything but the black neighborhoods, where he ran close behind. Moreover, the mayor's slate won eight of nine council seats outright, then took the last (a black ward) in a runoff.

Schundler was not without his own artillery. General consultant Mark Campbell (of Strategy Associates) marshaled a campaign operation that also spent in the half-million range, concentrating on cable TV and direct mail (the New York broadcast market being prohibitively expensive for even wellheeled Jersey campaigns.) Substantial ground and GOTV efforts were mounted. Detailed polling was provided by Rutgers professor Steve Salmore, author (with his wife) of Candidates, Parties & Campaigns, the standard text on modern electioneering in America.

The reform campaign also benefited from the nature of the opposition. "It wasn't Republican versus Democrat," insists Campbell. "It was good versus evil, honesty against the machine." But observers agree the key to Schundler's shattering re-election was in its message hope, and the supporting evidence provided by six months of innovation, daring, outreach and hard work.

Harbinger of a Populist Age

What will rise of this Jersey Jihad? Was it -- as advertised -- the Lexington of the conservative empowerment movement? After all, a Republican has replaced a black liberal Democrat in America's second largest city already this year, and the trend may repeat itself this November in our largest city. Is urban America turning to conservative solutions out of frustration with the unfulfilled promises of paternalistic liberalism. Perhaps.' But much more than that was at work in Jersey City.

The sudden sea change in the politics of this traditional eastern city was the product of one man, and how his particular set of values, characteristics and talents made a perfect catalyst for a community eager to transform its stagnating life. He is not another rising star on the depth chart of the national Republican party, though he could easily become a major figure, perched as he is across the river from center of the communications universe. No, as Senator Paine defiantly insists in "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," "This boy is different."

"Schundler's interested in Jersey City, period," says Lee Seglem. "He's not an empire builder....He's plugged into doing things for the city from a technocratic posture." It is a strange assessment of a politician, but one shared by many.

"Most state senators look in the mirror in the morning and see a president," observes Alan Marcus, who has seen plenty of them over 25 years in Trenton. "When Schundler looks in the mirror, he sees a mayor....He hasn't been spoiled by politics. He still believes in what he says, and that comes across to people. He knows how to motivate them."

Too often communities are forced to choose among ambitious professional politicians who have carefully nurtured relationships within the power structures of their particular political party. They have done so because it is the accepted means of advancement in the public arena. These are people in pursuit of a profession, entrusted with the mantle of leadership; but they are not leaders. They have become players in a recreation masquerading as government; they have lost track of their original selfless motivations -- If they began with anyfor participation in the process has become their sole purpose, It shows.

Bret Schundler breaks these rules and molds, and has succeeded beyond expectation because he is of a new breed of office-seeker. He pays little heed to the gang mentality that fosters distinctions made by party label. He has no gnawing ambitions to climb the ladder of elective office simply for the sport or ego gratification of competitive challenge. He comes off as a guy who wants to help his community. When these kinds of candidates are imaginative problem-solvers and capable communicators, such people are now the most effective candidates on the electoral landscape.

Hacks beware. Sightings of Bret Schundlers will soon no longer be isolated incidents attracting curiosity. They will be scattered, then common, then prevalent -- for the times demand their presence.

COPYRIGHT 1993 Campaigns & Elections, Inc.
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group