Opinion: Mario Cuomo's Old Fashioned Appeal

Thirty years ago this spring a first generation son of Italian immigrants did something that, decades earlier as a kid in Queens, would have seemed impossible. But there he was, delivering the 1985 Class Day address to thousands of Harvard University graduates, expounding on the greatness of this country and the opportunities it has provided for millions upon millions, including himself. Like many of his speeches, the words spoken that day remain as powerful now as they did then. 

The messenger I speak of was Mario M. Cuomo, and I was fortunate to have had a front row seat in the national political arena during his time as governor of New York.

As the jockeying for the 2016 presidential election begins and the latest and greatest gadgetry, tools and processes that have become essential to running a modern political operation are deployed, I find myself reminiscing about a bygone era. Not the one of whistle stops or “We Like Ike” slogans, but a time in the 1980s when I witnessed firsthand how a skilled and gifted leader could use the power of the spoken word to connect, and convey to national audiences of all backgrounds a vision for a better America.

Our methods, while basic, were arguably more effective than any army of social media gurus and press operatives. We had no fancy screens, staging or electronic presentations—just a resonant message delivered thoughtfully, the old-fashioned way.

As the governor’s reputation as a Democratic standard-bearer grew, so too did speaking requests from around the country. Gov. Cuomo embraced the opportunity to discuss his values and gauge the public’s hunger to hear a politician’s heart-felt beliefs in family and hard work. His message had been well received in New York, but how would it play elsewhere?

Political information was a little harder to come by in those days. We relied on the landline and the newspaper. Aside from the event hosts, who would repeat, “Please have the governor talk about his roots in Queens and his family values,” we could seldom determine in advance what would resonate with a prospective audience. No real-time demographics or polling results were readily available, and of course no Google searches. Occasionally, a friendly labor leader or local official might be able to share with us a few insightful “factoids” that we could pass along to the governor.

In the Executive Mansion in Albany there is a small library with shelves from floor to ceiling. Mario Cuomo filled those shelves with books about history, leaders, philosophy and the law. It was in this room that he would sit with pen and paper to write and re-write his remarks, consult and quote from the great literature around him, and refine his message.

On the road there would be no entourage and seldom an advance person. The governor would travel with a lone staffer (me) and a lone member of the state police.

So off we went, from Detroit to Seattle, New England to North Carolina, Phoenix to Indianapolis. An early test came on a sunny spring day in New Hampshire, where the governor delivered a commencement address. From the nodding parents and grandparents, the consistent applause and rousing ovation, it was clear: this was an audience that understood and appreciated the “values and hard work” soliloquy.

But would that same speech, delivered by a Yankee no less, have the same appeal in the South?

We got our chance when we were invited to North Carolina to address members of congress and the state’s governor. Several thousand of the state’s Democratic Party faithful, while weary, were also anxious to hear what this New Yorker, this Italian-American, had to say. They listened in awed silence, his cadence drawing them closer word by word.

The man at the podium had captured their attention and respect. When he was done speaking, the room erupted into a minutes-long standing ovation that echoed hope for the future.

And so it went from city to city, the governor gaining admirers and supporters at each stop along the way. He won over twenty thousand screaming cowboys at a Fort Worth rodeo, as sweet-smelling Texas brisket filled the air. He evoked tears of joy and understanding in the Pacific Northwest speaking of his father Andrea’s grocery store in Queens and rejection from white-shoe law firms because his name ended in a vowel.

No Facebook posts or email-blasts preceded these gatherings. They were word-of-mouth affairs, pure political events—the success of which we measured by the smiles in the crowd, the next day’s newspaper we had faxed to Albany, and random calls and letters from supporters.

It was these speeches and personal encounters that led so many to urge Mario Cuomo to seek higher office.

In the age of the 24/7 news cycle, when showmanship often trumps substance and 30-second sound bites are forgotten as quickly as they are uttered, I remember a different time. And I bet all those people at that commencement address, or that smoky barbeque, or that speech in San Francisco or South Bend, or any of our other stops, remember too.

Todd Howe currently works for Whiteman Osterman & Hanna, LLP in Washington, D.C. He was a staff member of Governor Mario M. Cuomo from 1984 to 1994.