David Paterson - Black, Blind, & In Charge

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Copyright 2020 by David A. Paterson

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

Cover design by Brian Peterson

Cover photo credit: Getty Images

Print ISBN: 978-1-5107-5633-5

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-6309-8

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the people of

New York whom I have been honored to

serve for several decades of my life, and to the people

of my home town; Harlem.

David A. Paterson

Contents

Acknowledgments

Dr. Simon E. Mills, for facilitation, collation,

writing, re-writing, branding, and guiding of this book.

Ed Breslin, for his coaching, development,

and additional writing.

Prologue

Marching with the Greatest

Saturday, June 14, 1986:

I was standing on a makeshift stage at the corner of 125th and Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard, formerly Seventh Avenue, in Harlem. The Adam Clayton Powell State Office Building, behind the makeshift stage, was going to be the launching point for one of many marches that will be conducted throughout New York City. All of these marches would culminate in a big rally in Central Park. The purpose of the marches and the big rally was to condemn the apartheid conditions that still existed then in South Africa: more specifically, to challenge the American banks and corporations that had money invested in South Africa to withdraw such economic support to this racist country.

Harlem activists such as Elombe Brath, Queen Mother Moore, Ann Rocker, Barbara Barber, Pork Chop Davis, Marshall England, and Mary Madison were sprinkled throughout the crowd, spreading enthusiasm. Harlem royalty was present as well: three of the four members of the Gang of Four were marching in the parade: David Dinkins, Charles Rangel, and my father, Basil Paterson, were all present and accounted for. The only missing member, Percy Sutton, made fewer public appearances since becoming the owner of Inner City Broadcasting. Although he couldnt attend in person, both of his radio stations were covering the event. David Dinkins, then the Borough President of Manhattan, was going to co-chair the march along with tennis star Arthur Ashe. Congressman Charles Rangel would lead the delegation of elected officials that included Assemblyman Danny Farrell, Assemblywoman Geraldine Daniels, City Councilman Hilton Clarkand myself, a newly-minted state senator.

Basil Paterson, former state senator and my father, because of his usual modesty and his typical shunning of the spotlight, had eschewed the opportunity to march, but he was hard at work behind the scenes with others to orchestrate the opening of the parade. Jim Bell, head of The Coalition of Black Trade unionists, was set to lead the marchers. Officials of the Transport Workers Union and the United Healthcare Workers Union were busy helping Bill Lynch, the famous organizer from Local 1707 of the AFSCME, the union of state, county, and municipal workers, to finalize plans for the beginning of the march. Bill had recently left the union to serve as the deputy borough president to Dinkins.

It was a blustery, cold morning, but the sun shone bright and full, and as the march began around midday, it was clear that the temperature would warm the crowd. That would help, but what really heated up the crowd was a rumor that the two guest grand marshals, Borough President David Dinkins and tennis star Arthur Ashe, would be joined by a special guest, Muhammad Ali.

Ali was my childhood idol. I had practiced dancing around the ring the way he did, sometimes even backpedaling like the Greatest of All Time. I had also recited his poetry, reveled in his humor, and stood loyal when he opposed the Vietnam War by refusing Selective Service in 1967, a short two and a half years after he became the youngest heavyweight champion of all time by knocking out Sonny Liston. The commissioners of boxing then stripped him of his title for refusing, as a conscientious objector, to step forward for induction into the army at Selective Service headquarters. As it turned out, the commissioners had stripped him of his title illegally. His valiant effort to regain the championship after the Supreme Court upheld his conscientious objector status in 1970 resulted in his narrow loss at Madison Square Garden to Joe Frasier, in one of the more epic fights in boxing history on March 8, 1971.

But a few years later Ali succeeded in regaining the title, only the second man ever to do so, in a shocking upset victory over George Foreman in Kinshasa, the capital of Zaire. Ali then defended his title several times, eventually losing it, only to regain it for a third time, at an advanced age, the only man ever to pull off this unbelievable feat. After his retirement, he became a global leader for causes like civil rights and world peace, the elimination of poverty, and the eradication of hunger, despite contracting the deadly Parkinsons disease and other health-impairing injuries from boxing that impeded his lifestyle and diminished his energy. But he never quit his quest for universal justice, dignity, and peace for all people of every color, race, country of origin, ethnicity, creed, or religion.

This was my favorite human being. I would have been happy enough just to have the opportunity to shake his hand. But as the beginning of the march approached and the crowd swelled with enthusiasm, there was a great deal of noise and activity around me, a good bit of it hectic and confusing. And, for some reason, my chief of staff Geoffrey Garfield had stepped away and left me standing there alone. Some people came up to me, shook my hand, and congratulated me for becoming a state senator at such a young age.