Eulogy for the 'Gang of Four' Era?

Paterson Scandal Scars a Piece of Harlem History

By SAM ROBERTS

David A Paterson was the great hope of Harlem’s Gang of Four. He was the instrument by which an extraordinary political quartet nurtured since professional infancy by the legendary Democratic leader J. Raymond Jones would impart their legacy to a younger generation of New York politicians.

That hope died with a thud on Friday.

David Paterson’s fall personifies something more than the end of a decades-old Democratic dynasty. It signifies the passing of the Old Guard in black politics in New York and other cities. Neighborhoods have changed. Black voters have dispersed. And politics has evolved into a less racial, if not quite a post-racial, period.

Just a week ago, as McFadden & Whitehead’s “Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now” blared from loudspeakers, Mr. Paterson formally declared his candidacy for a full four-year term as governor, an office he ascended to by a fluke in 2008. But, on Friday, with his campaign hobbled by a meager war chest and historically low popularity ratings, he announced that he was giving up the race. What finally drove him from the campaign were allegations reported in The New York Times that he and his State Police intervened in a domestic-abuse case involving one of his top aides.

Those allegations, by coincidence, were reported on the same day that a Congressional ethics committee admonished one of Mr. Paterson’s mentors, Representative Charles B. Rangel, the only member of the Gang of Four still in office, for accepting corporate-sponsored trips to the Caribbean. Still pending are the ethics panel’s verdict on more serious questions involving his fund-raising, failure to pay federal taxes on rental income from a Dominican villa and his use of four rent-stabilized apartments provided by a Manhattan real estate developer.

Today’s Harlem is a very different place from the neighborhood that became a magnet for rural blacks from the South and spawned the Gang of Four: Mr. Paterson’s father, Basil, who was a deputy mayor, New York secretary of state, and a trailblazing Democratic candidate for lieutenant governor in 1970; David N. Dinkins, who became Manhattan borough president and the city’s first black mayor; Percy E. Sutton, the former Manhattan borough president, who died in December at age 89; and Mr. Rangel.

Blacks now account for only 3 in 10 residents of Mr. Rangel’s congressional district. In greater Harlem, running river to river, and from East 96th Street and West 106th Street to West 155th Street, blacks no longer make up a majority of the population — a shift that occurred a decade ago after uptown blacks joined a growing contingent of Caribbean immigrants in better neighborhoods of Brooklyn and Queens. Even in central Harlem, their population has shrunk to the lowest since the 1920s — just after J. Raymond Jones arrived in the nation’s black cultural capital from St. Thomas.

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Farewell to King Percy

Coming of age in New York City in the 1970s and 1980s, men like David Dinkins, Basil Patterson, Percy Sutton and Charles Rangel seemed the very definition of Black Power. One of Sutton's true gifts to the city of New York and young minds like myself was the founding of Inner City Broadcasting--can't imagine what my childhood would have been like without it.

Percy Sutton, Eminent Politician, Dies at 89
By DOUGLAS MARTIN
Published: December 27, 2009

Percy E. Sutton, a pioneering figure who represented Malcolm X as a young lawyer and became one of the nation’s most prominent black political and business leaders , died in a Manhattan nursing home on Saturday, his family said. He was 89.

Marissa Shorenstein, a spokeswoman for Gov. David A. Paterson, confirmed Mr. Sutton’s death but said she did not know the cause, according to The A.P.

Mr. Sutton stood proudly at the center of the struggle for equal rights. He was arrested as a freedom rider; represented Malcolm X as young lawyer; rescued the fabled Apollo Theater in Harlem; and became a millionaire tycoon in the communications business to give public voice to African Americans.

He was also an eminent politician in New York City, rising from the Democratic clubhouses of Harlem to become the longest serving Manhattan borough president and, for more than a decade, the highest black official in the city. In 1977, he was the first seriously regarded black candidate for mayor.

His supporters saw his loss in that mayoral race as a stinging rebuff to his campaign’s strenuous efforts to build support among whites. But David N. Dinkins, who was elected the first black mayor in 1989, called Mr. Sutton’s failed bid indispensable to his own success.

“I stand on the shoulders of Percy Ellis Sutton,” Mr. Dinkins said in an interview.
President Obama also issued a tribite.

“Percy Sutton was a true hero to African Americans in New York City and around the country," Mr. Obama said in a statement. "We will remember him for his service to the country as a Tuskegee Airman, to New York State as a state assemblyman, to New York City as Manhattan Borough President, and to the community of Harlem in leading the effort to revitalize the world renowned Apollo Theater. His life-long dedication to the fight for civil rights and his career as an entrepreneur and public servant made the rise of countless young African Americans possible. Michelle and I extend our deepest condolences to his family on this sad day.”

Edward I. Koch, who won the 1977 mayoral vote, said only complicated political maneuvering stifled Mr. Sutton’s bid. He explained that incumbent Mayor Abraham Beame did not step aside as Mr. Sutton had expected, but ran himself, costing Mr. Sutton votes.

“I’m glad God intervened and I became mayor,” Mr. Koch said in an interview. He called Mr. Sutton “one of the smartest people I have met in politics or outside of politics.”

Mr. Sutton’s business empire included, over the years, radio stations, cable television systems and national television programs. Another business invested in Africa. Still another sold interactive technology to radio stations.

Mr. Sutton had an immaculately groomed beard and mustache; tailored clothing; and a sonorous, slightly Southern voice that prompted the nickname “wizard of ooze.” Associates called him “the chairman,” and he liked it.

Read the Full Essay @ The New York Times