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A VIEW FROM HERE
by deb weiss

The Lady In The Pants-Suit
June 5, 2000

I'm getting to know Howard Wolfson.

I've watched him dish with Andrea on MSNBC, and Judy on CNN, and Cokie over at ABC.

I've grown accustomed to his face. With his endearing little beard, he oddly resembles those ancient stone satyrs that gaze out mischievously from crumbling walls in Rome. He has food allergies, and a degree from Duke University.

EMAIL: DEB WEISS
Despite his relative youth (the kid is only 33), this former political reporter-turned-consultant is a major player, a kind of back-room Pygmalion whose specialty is transforming dumpy, left-leaning Democratic Galateas into winning politicians.

Up until about a year ago, he planned to help New York Representative Nita Lowey make a run for the Senate seat soon to be vacated by Pat Moynihan. However, a better offer came along, and he dumped Representative Lowey most unceremoniously.

After intense negotiations with Harold Ickes, he agreed to serve as press secretary to what's-her-name.

You know who I mean. The gal with the pants-suit, and the loony glitter in her ice-blue eyes. The one who made "vast, right-wing conspiracy" the catch-phrase of the late 1990s, and who is rumored to be the guiding light behind that ongoing White House campaign of character assassination targeting dozens of conservatives.

I should be able to remember her name. After all, she only has just the one.

Last Friday, if you looked closely, you could catch a glimpse of her standing next to New York Senator Charles Schumer, during a photo-op at the Manhattan headquarters of the United Federation of Teachers. (It was Howard Wolfson, incidentally, who ran Senator Schumer's successful cut-throat campaign against Alfonse D'Amato back in 1998.)

"New Yorkers deserve a Senator in Washington who we can absolutely count on every single time there's a critical gun control vote," said Senator Schumer, as the lady in the pants-suit stood at his side, nodding emphatically.

She's a very fine nodder: one of the top one hundred nodders in the USA.

Senator Schumer, like Howard Wolfson, thinks the lady ought to be New York's next Senator. That's why he made the supreme sacrifice of sharing camera-time with her (in the past, Senator Schumer is said to have inflicted severe physical injuries on those who attempted to get between him and the nearest camera).

Mind you, Howard Wolfson and Chuck Schumer aren't the only people who speak for the lady in the pants-suit. Lots of other people do, too.

Al Sharpton used to speak for her quite a bit: but that was back when her presumptive opponent was Rudy Giuliani, the beleaguered mayor of New York City, whose unapologetic war on crime made him a lightning-rod amongst Mr Sharpton's constituency.

Now, though, her opponent is Rick Lazio, a breezy Republican Congressman from Suffolk County who isn't nearly as easy to race-bait as the mayor was: and Mr. Sharpton's usefulness has been much diminished.

Mr. Lazio appears on the chat-shows every chance he gets. He talks -- until they make him shut up and go away -- about his record and his aspirations. The script goes roughly thus:

Reporters demand that he repudiate Newt Gingrich. He refuses.

Then they ask him to defend himself against that "ultra-conservative" label being hurled about by the lady's friends. He laughs.

Then they ask him tough -- often confrontational -- policy questions. He answers.

When he's been cooked to a turn, he gets up off the grill and heads for the next barbecue.

That's when Howard Wolfson appears (the Eleventh Commandment of television news being "Thou shalt give no Republican the last word").

If not Howard, then Harlem Congressman Charlie Rangel.

Or former New York Mayor Ed Koch.

Or New Jersey Senator Robert Toricelli: although he's got problems of his own these days, and isn't quite the presence that he used to be.

Sometimes, James Carville shows up, but he hasn't worn well. The grey eminences of the left have taken to limiting his exposure, preferring to employ his undeniable political talents behind the scenes rather than before the camera.

He really is a dark alley kind of guy.

Whoever does show up starts by throwing some acid-tipped darts at Mr. Lazio's back. Then they throw some more. They mention Newt Gingrich a lot, and warn that Mr. Lazio plans to arm all the school-children in New York with automatic weapons, and shut down the hospitals so that old people will get sick and die.

They look so fierce and intense, you can tell they care passionately about these things. According to them, the lady in the pants-suit cares, too -- so much so that she deserves to be New York's next Senator.

Just ask her how much she cares, and she'll tell you herself.

The only trouble is, you'll have to catch her first.

Meanwhile, you can always ask Howard.