Partying Among Spitzerheads
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The Young Professionals for Spitzer may be guilty of interpreting the word “young” a little loosely, but when they say “professional” they mean it. A money-raising event last week was packed with under-50-somethings decked out in their job-interview best. To scan the crowd was to see 540 variations on the black suit/leather satchel/nametag ensemble. Most of the Spitzer supporters merged into big social clusters, though a few loners lingered by the bar, sipping at their cocktails and fiddling with their BlackBerrys.
The organizing committee opted to throw the event at the West Chelsea nightclub Spirit, where the lights were low and cave like and the music was clubby and indistinct. A projection of a martini glass with the words “Eliot Spitzer 2006” played on the wall behind the proscenium. “At first, I thought that said ‘Eliot Spritzer,’ ” the managing partner of a design firm, Duke Sherman, whose hand was curled around a vodka and cranberry, said. “I thought he named a cocktail after himself.”
Only a few minutes after the doors opened, long bottlenecked lines started forming by both of the $3 coat-check windows. Heads turned as the guest of honor and his ring of aides sailed into the club. “Sell any T-shirts yet?” the New York attorney general asked a volunteer who was seated at a card table in the hallway. And with that, Mr. Spitzer stepped into the main room, into an alternate reality where government officials are the new Mick Jaggers and handshakes the new autographs. He could barely move. His fans wanted to rub palms and gush hellos. Some just wanted to stare at him.
He didn’t seem to mind.
The January 10 event was put together by the attorney general’s gubernatorial campaign, which had until January 11 to raise money before filing a biannual report with the New York State Board of Elections. The managing director of Spitzer 2006, Cindy Darrison, told The New York Sun that last week’s filing, to be made public today, was for $7.9 million. Governor Pataki’s office declined to share its figures, asking the Sun to wait until the information was made public.
A Quinnipiac University poll had Mr. Spitzer running 12% ahead of the Republican incumbent, but before next year’s election, the Democrat is faced with the task of softening his image as a fearsome, anti-business attorney general. He can’t just coast on his popularity, the thinking goes. He must persuade people that his sights are set on more than chasing down white-collar bad guys. He has already received so much media attention that his image may be too cemented to overhaul completely, but he seems to have made a sufficiently favorable impression for that not to matter.
The first event of Young Professionals for Spitzer was held last summer at Lotus, and 300 people went, donating $30,000 to the campaign. Next up for Mr. Spitzer’s younger supporters is a February 24 event at a to-be-disclosed location. For that event, the Spitzer campaign is working with the Democratic Action Team, the group behind several groovy Kerry fundraising affairs. The ticket price is expected to be lower than for the Spirit party, and the crowd is likely to expand well beyond the banker-and-lawyer matrix.
“We are a very hip campaign,” Ms. Darrison said with what sounded over the phone like a smirk. “Eliot’s a very hip guy.”
Last week’s event, which brought in about $50,000, had five chairmen: an investment banker, Alexander Crisses; a state assemblyman from Rockland County, Ryan Karben; a hedge-fund manager, Cindy Roseman; a lawyer, James Williams, and a woman who works at a pro-choice nonprofit institution, Sara Weinstein – who also happens to be the daughter of a film industry titan, Bob Weinstein. “She brought a lot of Miramax people,” Ms. Darrison said.
Team Spitzer has been courting the kids. The photograph accompanying the attorney general’s Web log features him chatting in a library with a ring of what look to be high-school seniors. Going for the youth vote makes sense for a candidate who’s made a name cracking down on corporate corruption. Why chase a $1,000 donation instead of five donations of $200 each?
“Howard Dean’s changed the way we raise money,” a 40-year-old attorney, Richard Pinner, said. “The immediacy of the Internet means it’s easier to get more people to give smaller gifts.”
Mr. Pinner went to the party with a childhood friend, Stephen Weiss, an investment banker who is also 40. “These are the people who are going to end up working for him in grassroots effort,” Mr. Weiss said. “Usually politicians will just go where the money is. He’s not stupid.”
Younger voters are drawn to Mr. Spitzer because they see his direct manner – even if it borders on abrasive – as refreshing. Words bandied about at Spirit were “courage,” “temerity,” “scruples,” and, most of all, “honesty.” There was nary a mention of Mr. Pataki, though Mr. Williams, the co-chairman, delivered an introductory speech imploring the room to vote a Democrat back into the Governor’s Mansion.
Many of the Young Professionals for Spitzer said they had come because friends on the host committee had pressured them to. Others said they just wanted to find out more about Mr. Spitzer as a candidate. The director of sales and marketing for a legal staffing company, Sarah Wadelton, came to support a friend on the host committee – and to network. “I met other attorneys who do practice and it was a great context in which to meet them,” she said.
Compared to the frantic fund-raising events preceding the presidential election, the crowd’s enthusiasm was balanced by a sense of ease. “The urgency isn’t here because the stakes seem a lot lower,” an attorney, Adam Henry, said. “In the Manhattan-centric version of politics, it strikes me the governor has relatively little influence on life in Manhattan. For the laissez-faire New York liberal, it’s the mayoral race that counts.”
“It’s partially that the Democrats are so hungry for anybody who has any juice,” a member of the host committee, who didn’t want to be quoted by name, said. “It’s just fascinating to see two years before an election those kinds of numbers. It shows politics is as much about celebrity as it is a message. You’ve seen him on a couple magazine covers and you’re addicted to an image.”
“People were really excited to meet him in person and shake his hand,” seconded a 43-year-old investment banker, who said he didn’t want to be named because he prefers that his business associates not learn of his politics. “People reacted to him the way they would a senator. A lot of it has to do with the press he got.”
After more than an hour of handshaking, Mr. Spitzer took to the stage and delivered a brisk speech. At first he seemed slightly nervous. “I don’t hang out at clubs like this,” he said. “It’s a little dark in here for me.”
“It was a little Catskill standup,” a woman who works for a nonprofit group, Joy Portella, said. “I was like, ‘When is this going to end?’ “
The jokes kept coming, as did the crowd’s laughter. Mr. Spitzer’s words to a Wall Streeter he had schmoozed with before his speech: “I took your name. We’ll serve subpoenas tomorrow.”
Fortunately, the attorney general moved on to other matters, such as health care, education, minimum wage, and Albany gridlock – though only in a passing manner. As one would expect, the man’s demeanor among friends was less forbidding than in the glare of the press. He was grinning and glowing and perspiring with the shine of a candidate delivering his acceptance speech.
When he wrapped up, he stepped down from the podium, only to be swarmed again. Mr. Spitzer seemed to be riding an adrenaline high, and he seemed surprised by the rock-star treatment. First there was the squad of Hasidic men, who had a group photo taken. Then there were various 30-something supporters, who were willing to wait half an hour to greet the man of the hour. The celebrity politician lowered down into a squat to pose for a picture with a young man in a wheelchair. People kept drifting onto the line. It seemed as though the crowd would never thin out.
Rob Kelly, 26, waited patiently for his turn. “I want to ask him if competitive markets could be a rallying cry in an election,” Mr. Kelly said. At last he got to speak for about a minute while Mr. Spitzer listened, grinning and nodding fervently. “He just said yes, and then I didn’t have a follow-up question and it was over,” Mr. Kelly said after the encounter. “I’m hoping to volunteer for the campaign.”