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Stand by your Mam
NYC’s new mayor-elect — a true mazel tov for 8 million taxpayers — has a wife. She so far hasn’t said a word. Susan Wagner, whose husband Robert F. was first elected mayor in 1953, told me, “No fun place to be.
“Our official car wasn’t safe. Springs were broken. Picking up dignitaries like General de Gaulle with wind blowing in on both sides? It always broke down.”
Tall, blond, handsome, chic blue suit that she said, “I bought on sale,” told me: “Politician’s wives need a sense of humor. Plus patience, thick skin and inability to hear remarks like, ‘I’ve seen that dress on her before.’ I answer, ‘And you’ll see it again!’ ”
From a meeting in progress next door, stray commissioners wandered through while a secretary kept handing her messages. And a maid dusted nearby photos of Nehru, Kennedy, Queen Elizabeth. Meetings continued to her left, phones went off all around.
“Politics are vicious. I anticipated it would be not quite this horrible. I’m OK because it’s my husband’s life. Our son was upset hearing his father attacked. He’s seen his father misquoted. He missed school days.
“I wish we had some private time. Meetings are constant. Once, first in weeks, we had dinner home. But he dashed out afterward to make a speech. Everybody’s trying to produce him at too many places. If I look fast I can see him across a dais. It gets lonely. I’m marooned upstairs but we’re never together. I can’t even breakfast with him because who knows who’s going to be here.
“And how about the food bills? A pushier person maybe this wouldn’t affect but I’m sensitive. Bills add up when you’re not spending your own money. Nobody mentions Parks Department employees and police who grab big meals here midday. Plus bacon and eggs every morning.
“It’s constant official entertaining. Aside from big affairs with 1,500 on the lawn, we clock about 600 a week — not counting the men who meet him on business.”
Yeah . . . well, lotsa luck, Mrs. Mamdani . . . That’s also what we think.
Lately there’s discussion about genetically altered fruits and vegetables. Food specialists — one who says he’s trying to splice a head of cabbage with a razor blade — is looking to grow coleslaw.
OK by me. I don’t care. But I have a friend who says they better not start fooling around with the Jolly Green Giant’s niblets.
Oy. Only in the Food & Drug Department, kids, only in the Food & Drug Department.