The GOP's Pataki problem: what to do with the governor of New York? Not much, probably.

IN January, George Pataki addressed the New York state legislature as governor for the eleventh time--and proceeded to deliver an interminable speech on creating more bird sanctuaries, building new ethanol facilities, and encouraging kids to exercise. In what turned out to be a major applause line, he announced: "This morning I signed an executive order requiring all state agencies and authorities to begin using non-toxic cleaning products." When Pataki finally focused on taxes--New Yorkers endure the highest tax burden in the country--he mostly bragged about the achievements of the past. His major new proposal was to accelerate the phase-out of an income tax increase--a tax hike that had occurred on his own watch.

In fairness, Pataki didn't actually favor that particular tax hike. Democrats and Republicans in the state legislature conspired to pass it against his wishes and then overrode his veto. Yet as Pataki contemplates another run for governor in 2006--or perhaps even a campaign for the presidency in 2008--it is difficult not to compare his latest state-of-the-state speech with the one he delivered a decade ago. "The government of New York state is too big and it spends too much money," said the Pataki of 1995. Still on a high from his upset victory over Mario Cuomo, his liberal Democratic predecessor, the new GOP governor laid out a plan for aggressive tax cuts and spending reductions. And in the months ahead, he achieved much of what he sought and saved New York taxpayers billions of dollars.

Somewhere along the way, however, Pataki lost his enthusiasm for this bold project. Ten years ago, he had a chance to become one of America's great governors. But starting in the late 1990s, he devoted much of his energy to raising taxes and fees to keep up with state spending, arranging billion-dollar backroom deals with union bosses, and worrying about what kind of toilet-bowl cleaners swirl into the potties of Albany. Today, he presides over a state that just finished dead last in a survey of economic freedom conducted by Forbes magazine and the Pacific Research Institute. His tenure as the Empire State's chief executive began with incredible promise--but its legacy almost certainly will be one of squandered opportunity, shrunken ambition, and conservative disappointment.

LOSING HIS WAY

The 59-year-old Pataki is one of the most unassuming characters in politics. He would slip into the background of any room if his 6-foot, 5-inch height didn't have him towering over much of it. Last year, a Quinnipiac University poll asked New Yorkers whether dinner with Pataki would be "fun"--and more of them said no (48 percent) than yes (42 percent). It's no surprise that Rudy Giuliani completely eclipsed him in the aftermath of 9/11. Pataki's speeches are bland even by gubernatorial standards, and they seem to emerge naturally from a laconic manner that has made many people in his own party feel utter indifference toward him. Liberals like to compare Pataki to George W. Bush, and not just because he attended Yale and became governor of a large state. Instead, they think he's dumb and lazy. The charge isn't fair, because Pataki isn't dumb. (Of course, the charge against Bush is false on both counts.)

And lazy probably isn't the best word for Pataki, either. Instead, he's disengaged--and remains aloof from some of his most important responsibilities. The governor has strayed from the more or less conservative principles that marked his political rise, lost his ability to bend the state legislature, and abandoned his responsibility to strengthen the GOP in New York. "Pataki-land has become a place that sells out on everything," says George Marlin, a Pataki appointee to the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey. "The governor is going to leave the Republican party intellectually bankrupt and the state fiscally bankrupt."

Conservatives weren't thinking about any kind of bankruptcy on election night in 1994, when Pataki defeated Cuomo and became an instant political celebrity. He had spent eight years in the state assembly and two more in the senate building a reputation for fiscal thrift and social liberalism. Few on the right had major qualms backing him because his social liberalism never took on the flamboyant qualities of, say, Giuliani's--Pataki was clearly a family man whose support for abortion didn't keep him from voting to restrict Medicaid funding of it. His race for governor was often portrayed as the handiwork of a king-making senator. To be sure, Alfonse D'Amato played a crucial part in Pataki's securing of the GOP nomination. But Pataki also was his own man, and he had spent years casting votes against Cuomo budgets, which put him in a perfect position to be an anti-Cuomo candidate at a time when voters hungered for such a thing. During the campaign, he called for tax cuts and reinstating the death penalty--and he knocked off a liberal icon by four points. Even in a huge Republican year, this was a resounding victory.

In his early months as governor, Pataki reduced income taxes by 25 percent. He also cut the workers'-compensation tax, the capital-gains tax, the death tax, and the sales tax on clothing. Perhaps even more impressive was his spending restraint. When he walked into office, New York had a general-fund budget of $42.7 billion. Over the next two years, it actually fell to $41.5 billion, for a reduction of 2.5 percent. It appeared as though Pataki really believed his own rhetoric about the government's being too big and spending too much.

Then he changed his mind. He broke a promise to end rent control in New York City, supported billion-dollar bond initiatives, and oversaw Albany's absorption of the Long Island Lighting Company--the largest takeover of a private company by a state government in U.S. history and a move he had previously criticized Cuomo for supporting. But the worst news was yet to come. In the wake of the tax breaks and amid a growing economy, New York was generating surplus revenue. Rather than finding new ways to return it to taxpayers, Pataki encouraged Albany to go on a spending spree--and Albany obliged. As the 1998 election loomed, he called for the state government to grow by more than 8 percent (four times the rate of inflation). "He decided to play Santa Claus," says an occasional ally. The governor never looked back to those early days of relative austerity. The Cato Institute, in its biennial fiscal-policy report card on governors, labeled Pataki a "liberal big spender." The New York Times actually endorsed him for another term, citing his "progressive and inclusive attitude."

This progression continued following Pataki's reelection, as the state government grew at a faster clip than it had even in Cuomo's second and third terms. E. J. McMahon of the Manhattan Institute's new Empire Center for New York State Policy calculates that if Pataki had held government growth to the rate of inflation--as Democratic governor Hugh Carey managed to do between 1975 and 1983--then New York could have given its residents another big income-tax cut. Instead, Pataki took the route of annual spending binges, which he financed by almost tripling cigarette taxes and boosting fees on just about everything else. Even though he had promised to serve no more than two terms as governor, he made plans for another race in 2002. He began secret negotiations with Dennis Rivera, the leftwing leader of a powerful union of hospital workers. Pataki agreed to give Rivera's members a pay raise worth nearly $2 billion, and Rivera returned the favor with an endorsement. "That was his most boorish moment," says one observer. There were other payoffs to Big Labor, including set-aside contracts and rules making it easier to organize in the workplace. Many of the unions that didn't endorse him at least stayed neutral. The New York Times backed Pataki once again, praising him as "a generally sensible steward of the public's money."

All the while, Pataki assured conservatives that unseemly bargains were the cost of doing business in the rough-and-tumble world of New York politics. His apologists have a mantra: "Five to three," meaning that there are 5 million registered Democrats in New York compared to 3 million Republicans. If a GOP governor is to survive, goes the thinking, he'll occasionally have to trim sails. And yet both of Pataki's reelections were cakewalks. The governor didn't merely survive, he flourished--racking up a 21-point victory over his Democratic opponent in 1998 and a 15-point win in 2002. Given these comfortable margins, the strategy of expensive accommodation looks less than inspired. "President Bush is a natural leader: He just won a close reelection and now he's staking everything on Social Security reform," says one conservative. "Pataki is nothing but an accommodationist who is desperate to stay in power at any price."

ERODING THE PARTY

At the start of his third term, Pataki proposed reducing the size of government once again--a rational response to the profligacy that had pounded a $12 billion hole in the state budget. Conservatives hoped the governor was returning to his roots. Yet the legislature, including the GOP-controlled senate, ignored him and passed a hefty tax hike. The governor vetoed this but could only watch helplessly as he was overridden. Pataki postured as a taxpayer hero, though the experience merely called attention to one of his central shortcomings as governor: his failure to build an anti-tax coalition in Albany. Blaming the legislature for the state's addiction to taxes and spending, as Pataki has done, is like a pro-football coach's saying that his team loses games because his players are no good. The excuse may work for a couple of seasons, and it may even be true. But soon the question becomes: Why isn't the team getting better players? The fault ultimately lies with the coach, or whoever is in charge of draft picks, free agents, and trades. For New York Republicans, that person is George Pataki.

GOP fortunes have done nothing but sag since Pataki's first election as governor. Republicans have held steady in the state senate, but they've suffered severe losses in the assembly. The counties of Nassau, Suffolk, and Westchester--once GOP strongholds--have slipped into the Democratic column. "The party has been devastated at the local level," says one activist. It hasn't fared much better statewide. In 1998, Republicans failed to keep the attorney general's office and Chuck Schumer defeated D'Amato for the Senate. Two years later, Hillary Rodham Clinton carpetbagged her way to victory against a weak opponent. Last fall, as Pataki coasted to reelection, the GOP didn't even bother to field a serious candidate against Schumer, who won one of the most lopsided elections in recent history. "The governor did nothing to make sure Schumer had a real opponent--absolutely nothing," says one former member of his administration. "It was pathetic."

Republicans are bound to fail again in 2006 against Clinton. Rather than grooming talent within the state, they've resorted to fantasies about Colin Powell's coming to their rescue. And if Pataki decides not to run for a fourth term, he has no heir apparent; Democratic attorney general Eliot Spitzer looks like a sure thing in any contest that doesn't include Pataki (and a strong challenger in one that does).

The problem is that Pataki has refused to engage in the nitty-gritty work of nurturing Republicans at the grassroots level. Whereas D'Amato was a retail pol who used to throw himself into township-supervisor races, Pataki is famously distant from such intricacies. When he has paid attention to political races other than his own, they've all been with an eye toward audiences outside New York, such as his vigorous effort to keep John McCain off the GOP primary ballot in 2000. New York recently went through a round of redistricting, but Pataki did next to nothing to shape the process, except to sign off on a protection plan for incumbents. Throughout 2004, New York Republicans complained that Pataki was spending too much time outside the state stumping for President Bush when he might have been back home raising money for state legislative candidates. Their irritation only worsened when newspapers revealed in January that the state GOP has been paying $50,000 a year for Pataki's wife--a private consultant with a six-figure income--to have a personal assistant who shops for groceries. Wouldn't this money be better spent trying to win back Westchester?

It seems that Pataki likes the idea of being governor more than he enjoys doing the hard work the job requires. Tax cuts and spending restraint aren't the only conservative policies he's deserted. One of the signature achievements from his first term turned into a hollow victory: Pataki brought back the death penalty, but more than nine years later the state hasn't actually executed anybody. (Last year, a state court even ruled the legislature's new pro-death-penalty law unconstitutional.) The governor should be in a strong position to make sure his accomplishments are substantial, because his office is more powerful than it is in other states. Pataki enjoys significant authority to influence the budget. He also possesses a line-item veto and controls a vast system of patronage. And yet few lawmakers in Albany, even fellow Republicans, pay him much heed. For a man who says his favorite president is Teddy Roosevelt, Pataki seems strangely reluctant to use the bully pulpit. He walks softly but doesn't even carry a toothpick.

He may in fact be bored. Although Pataki routinely denies interest in a Bush-administration job, his name appears on rumor lists with a curious persistence. He has been mentioned as a possible Treasury secretary or as the head of Homeland Security. Most recently, he was discussed as ambassador to the United Nations. As usual, he claimed he didn't want the post--though many New York Republicans think he said that only because he came to understand he couldn't have it.

Whatever the case, Pataki is now on a charm offensive with national conservatives. He has spoken to several influential groups of them in recent weeks, and has appointed NR's Lawrence Kudlow to a tax-reform commission. "The governor makes it sound like he's coming back to where he started," says Michael Long, head of New York's Conservative party. Pataki even showed up at an inaugural ball sponsored by conservatives in Washington. "All our jaws dropped," says a New Yorker who was there. "He's pretending like he never screwed us." A few days later, in Manhattan, Pataki delivered a PowerPoint presentation on his success as governor and his outlook for the future. New York's government, he said, "taxes too much" and "spends too much." By all accounts, his remarks went over well. But many people in the room were left to wonder: After a decade on the job, hasn't he done a lot of taxing and spending himself?