George Spitz, the Fifth Democrat, Tries His Best

Prowling through the WPIX studios in a pre-debate warm-up ritual, George Spitz, 78, in the tradition of Chief Joseph, unexpectedly issues a magnanimous and solemn declaration. "I'm not going to attack any of them," he promises WNYC's Brian Lehrer, a questioner at last Tuesday's Democratic primary debate, who just informed the Studebaker Insurgent that he will get 45 seconds to respond to every question. Lehrer's friendly professionalism betrays what must be the relief of a trailer-park lottery winner?he can look forward to a civil exchange of ideas, where Fernando Ferrer, Peter Vallone, Mark Green and Alan Hevesi can express themselves without fear of scurrilous attack and infernal relentlessness from the retired state auditor.

And then comes the masterstroke. Spitz wanders to the press' refreshment tray and reaches out his hand to the assortment of sodas, cookies, brownies and Poland Springs. Without warning, the man who would be mayor grasps an orange Slice, snaps it open, pours it into a plastic cup and drinks it from a straw. I've been on the campaign trail with Spitz, and he usually sips grandfatherly eccentricities, like glass after glass of hot water ordered in his favorite restaurant, Niko's, on Broadway and 76th St. Although his shoulders rise and descend with the effort of refreshing himself, it's clear to all who know Spitz?here at WPIX, that means me and the kind security guard who's told the candidate that someone will be with him momentarily?that he's crackling with energy.

With good reason. "It's high noon for me," he says. Spitz is tall, eagle-faced, bald and lean from running, especially in the marathon he brought to all five boroughs in 1976, but his pace this summer has been moribund, generously speaking. You would be forgiven if you were to arch an eyebrow and say, "There are five Democrats running for mayor?"

In trail stops the week prior, Spitz implored audiences to look for him to shine in this debate, and over lunch he stressed to me the importance of making his case elegantly and persuasively. "I could either fall flat on my face?and I could do it?or I could get the word out," the candidate says, forgetting about the soda he left on the WPIX table. "Flat on my face," he mumbles to no one in particular.

Spitz's political raison d'etre is encapsulated in a word he takes the span of five handclaps to pronounce: patronage. While he tends to veer abruptly between the short term, the long term, anecdote, reflection and lament, he remembers a Depression-era day in city history where libraries were open late, the Triborough Bridge was built and the parks bloomed, all on negligible sales and income taxes, and he wonders, Why not now? The answer, he says, is "the corrupt political culture" and the patronage-stained contracts that he claims cost the city $5.8 billion. Trustworthy civil servants can do the job more effectively and cheaper than the friends of the city's Democratic and Republican clubs who receive municipal contracts, often without bidding for them. Rooting out patronage will dry up the lifeblood of the city's coarse political establishment and free up money for universal healthcare, education and infrastructure repair. "Look at these streets," Spitz complains, indignant over the chapped face of Broadway and 71st St., which, it must be said, is one of the better-maintained city blocks. As he's fond of saying on the stump, "I've gone from a no-shot to a long-shot. Don't bet on me, but if you like me, word of mouth is better than money." Colorful, sure, and more than a little confused, but unquestionably more endearing than "MEBQ."

Spitz insists he's a credible candidate, and at times he acts like one, like at an address to the Community Free Democrats club two Thursdays ago. The earnest senior citizen, who possesses a sleepy timbre like a drunk impersonating Jimmy Stewart, showed an alarming amount of political cowardice. He could have gone before his fellow Democrats and pointed the finger at them, appealing to their sense of decency, fiscal wisdom and idealism: stop expecting to get your back scratched! But instead, here in Jerry Nadler's house, Scott Stringer's house, Spitz spoke for 10 minutes about his biography and the dangers of the Bush Social Security commission. He got nothing for it. Club members chatted with each other during the lecture, focused on Stringer's performance in that day's public advocate debate and the soon-to-be-broadcast Condit interview. Nadler showed up, and unequivocally denied Spitz's assertion that the Congressman was "coming around" to Spitz's position on keeping Social Security public. When I asked Spitz why he didn't burn down the barn the way he had been promising?he told me, for instance, that he expects to completely remove patronage in all its manifestations during his first term in City Hall?the would-be-mayor said, "Well, you only get 10 minutes to talk up there." For a man with no name recognition, no constituency, no money (even if he qualified for matching funds, he says, he would refuse them on principle), no endorsements, no staff (his campaign manager, Jose Angel Monzon, resigned early last week to enjoy his freshman year at NYU?a fellow named Robert Plautz, who didn't show up to the debate, stepped into the vacuum) and no media attention, declining to anger influential Democrats despite his entire platform made Spitz seem downright viable.

Then came the debate. The four other candidates wore dark blue blazers; Spitz slouched in a brown suit and green tie. At one moment frozen on camera, Spitz held his head in his hands. The press corps howled with laughter, especially when one arch heckler compared Spitz to Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. And while Ferrer, Green, Hevesi and Vallone demonstrated impressive ability to speak in full sentences, Spitz stuttered and shifted gears without regard for the question asked. When Lehrer asked for a reaction to Hevesi's procurement of a business deal for a campaign contributor?a question Spitz was hoping for?he bellyflopped in: "Yes, uh, I tend to think that this?Maximus contract?and the whole 500-million-dollar package of welfare-to-work programs?is a sc?, uh, scam, equal to what went on in Tamma Hall, Tammany Hall in its heyday. It's ridiculous, spending 500 million dollars to do?train?do?work?to advise welfare recipients where to apply for job after?be done by the caseworker! The only reason these contracts are let out are?are?are?to pay off politicians, and, and, and the whole 500-million-dollar package is a waste of money! It could be better used for education."

Vallone was gracious, smiling and patting Spitz's hand encouragingly, but high noon found Spitz too slow on the draw. My first instinct is to blame the Slice, but the candidate tells me that he didn't practice for the debate beyond thinking up one-liners. "Don't you think?my physical limitations," he starts, as reporters crowd around Green and Hevesi. "The issues are more important." Yeah, George, but when you stammer and barely regard the question at hand, you come off like a crank. Undaunted, ready to get his bag and meet with the NAACP, Spitz levels with me. "I did the best I could," he said. "And it probably wasn't good enough."