A Bridge Too Far

The late Mario Cuomo has been in the local news lately—or should I say Mario M. Cuomo, the “M” standing for Matthew. It seems that the New York State Department of Transportation has been patching over some bridge-access signs that were erected last year upon the opening and renaming of a new Tappan Zee Bridge, which connects Westchester and Rockland Counties. Only it’s no longer the Tappan Zee Bridge. It’s been officially renamed the "Governor Mario M. Cuomo Bridge" and some of the signs neglected to include that ever-vital “M.” How much will all this patchwork cost? Your guess is as good as mine, but it would probably be better spent filling potholes.

This is the same bridge, by the way, that had been originally named to recognize the Tappan tribe, who once inhabited the region. The bridge also incorporated the Dutch word for sea: zee. And it had such a nice ring when combined: Tappan Zee. But it is now—if one is to believe the signs—the Governor Mario M. Cuomo Bridge—not so nice a ring. One footnote here: In 1994, former Republican Governor Malcolm Wilson’s name was added to the Tappan Zee’s familiar moniker, but nobody that I knew ever referred to it as the “Governor Malcolm Wilson Tappan Zee Bridge.”

Further background: After the Tappan Zee’s original structure—completed in 1955—was deemed hopelessly unsound, the powers-that-be opted to raise an entirely new structure. The replacement bridge was built alongside the original, while the latter remained open to traffic. But politicians being politicians can never leave well enough alone. They love nothing more than rewarding their own: the political class. Governor Andrew Cuomo, son of Mario, and cronies in the state legislature voted to change the new bridge’s name. Of course, their constituents weren't consulted. And let history be damned, too. As for the cost of changing countless access road signs approaching the bridge, few in government sweat such things.

Now, trust me, I have no political ax to grind here. I am a fan of Mario Cuomo from way back. I first encountered him in the old neighborhood when he was running for New York City mayor in 1977. I was fourteen when I first laid eyes on this up-and-coming pol. He seemed especially genuine back then, a first-generation Italian-American family man, like my father, from one of the city’s outer boroughs. In the “Cuomo for Mayor” pamphlets being passed out that day—along with pin-back buttons championing his candidacy—were pictures of the man’s brood, including oldest son Andrew and youngest son Chris, who was only seven at the time.

Recently, while out with his family, Chris—the host of a daily CNN program— was called “Fredo” by some insignificant moron. Chris, though, went berserk and said that “Fredo” was a slur for Italians on par with the “N-word.” While Fredo was at once the youngest and least intelligent son of the Corleone family in The Godfather, the comparison was invidious. Papa Mario was a gifted wordsmith and orator who used just that phrase—invidious comparison—at some point. I remember it for some reason. Nevertheless, Chris had a point. The contemporary thought police overlook Italian slurs. Movies with ridiculous Italian stereotypes are still cheered on at the Sundance Film Festival. But, then, my father loved The Godfather and The Sopranos.” A second-generation Italian American fellow I knew quite well referred more than once to an Italian male as a “stupid gindaloon.” It’s the only time I ever heard that one, but I accepted the fact that there are, in fact, living and breathing stereotypes in our midst. And, get this, no safe spaces were required. Sadly, we live in an age of pathetic crybabies who, evidently, need to be offended to validate their existence. Why not laugh instead of crying. But it’s also a dim-witted, vulgar age with a loutish, ignorant man-child in the White House serving as a role model for far too many. It’s the worst of both worlds right now, born of one another.

So, back to the more innocent and gritty but oh so real 1977, when the fourteen-year-old me rooted for Mario Cuomo in a crowded Democratic primary field of candidates looking to unseat the hapless but well-intentioned incumbent, Abe Beame. He came in second to Ed Koch, who didn’t get the necessary 40% to avoid a mandated run-off election against Cuomo two weeks later. Koch won the run-off and prevailed in November. They were both close contests against Mario M. Cuomo, who had secured the Liberal Party nomination in the general election. Ed Koch, who frequently campaigned with his beard, former Miss America Bess Myerson, complained at one point that the Cuomo campaign had plastered signs along a heavily trafficked thoroughfare in a blue-collar section of Queens that read “Vote for Cuomo, Not the Homo.” The unforgiving Koch carried this grudge to his grave. Cuomo denied then and later in his life, too, that he had anything to do with the posters, which would have backfired on him were he actually behind the smear. Well, now they both have bridges named after them. Ed Koch has his name affixed to the Queensboro Bridge.

At the end of the day, politicians should just leave well enough alone when it comes to renaming things. Changing the name of the Idlewild Airport in Queens to the John F. Kennedy International Airport worked out, but that was more of an exception to the rule. We’ve got enough discord in society without compounding it with controversial, largely unpopular name changes. And it’s not a Democrat or Republican thing, or liberal or conservative one. It’s just that in this instance, the new Tappan Zee Bridge should be called what the old one was called for over six decades. It’s what virtually everybody will call it anyway.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)