American Scandal - New York State of Crime: Three Men in a Room | 1

Episode Date: October 23, 2018

In 2006 Eliot Spitzer is elected governor on a promise to tackle corruption in the most dysfunctional state capital in the country--Albany, NY. He is quickly challenged by one of the most powerful men in the state. Will the governor change Albany or will Albany change him?Need more American Scandal? With Wondery+, enjoy exclusive seasons, binge new seasons first, and listen completely ad-free. Start your free trial in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts, Spotify or visit https://wondery.app.link/rUic7i1hMNb now.  See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

You're listening to the first episode of this American Scandal season. With Wondery+, you can binge the remaining episodes, listen to new episodes early, and explore more exclusive seasons completely ad-free. Start your free trial of Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify today. This episode contains some strong language. New York City, November 7th, 2006. It's election night at the Sheraton Hotel, and inside the grand ballroom, the roar of the crowd is deafening. Democrats have just swept the state elections,

sending Hillary Clinton back to the U.S. Senate for her second term and Andrew Cuomo into the position of state attorney general. But tonight, it's the man who won the race for governor of New York State that people want to hear from. Just 47 years old, Eliot Spitzer is the Democratic Party's new golden boy. What a wonderful night this has been across this nation for people who value good values and judgment. But today was not a victory of one candidate or one party, but of all those irrepressible optimists who have hoped and dreamed of a resurgent New York.

Aggressive, ambitious, and charming, Spitzer has a gleaming resume as the tough attorney general who battled corruption on Wall Street. He's a hero to New York voters who put him into office with a whopping 69% of the vote. The Democratic National Committee is even eyeing him as a possible presidential candidate, and Spitzer has done nothing to discourage them. But tonight, Spitzer is on a mission. Some might call it a crusade. New York state government has been declared the most dysfunctional in the country by the NYU Law Center. Or as one assemblyman put it more colorfully, it's a cesspool of corruption. Fraud, bribery, racketeering, larceny, burglary, and lapses of ethics are just a few of the charges that have driven more than a dozen politicians from office under a shadow of

shame in the past 10 years. But Eliot Spitzer has vowed to change all that. He will force the government to work for the people of New York again, just as it was intended to. Tonight marks a turning point for New York State and sounds a death knell for business as usual in Albany. Change has finally arrived with the election of Eliot Spitzer starting on day one, at least according to Eliot Spitzer. But tomorrow when we wake up, it will be time to seize the future, to start anew, and to walk together towards a hopeful beginning

for the state of New York. Meanwhile, Joe Bruno has been watching election returns from the tranquility of his 125-acre thoroughbred horse farm in upstate New York. Bruno is the Republican Senate Majority Leader, the state's most powerful Republican, and his mood is somber. Sure, he's won re-election to his seat, but this was no surprise. He's held his seat for 30 years. An election night these days amounts to nothing more than a rubber stamp. The chamber Bruno rules has also maintained

a slim Republican majority, but this was no surprise either. The Republican Party has controlled the state Senate for two decades. But the landslide election of a Democratic governor is a bitter pill for Joe Bruno to swallow. Spitzer will be the first Democratic governor of the state in 12 years. To sum up where we stand right now, because it is the story of the state in 12 years. Bruno gets up from his leather recliner and clicks off the returns with a sigh. An aide enters the room holding a phone. Senator Bruno, there's a reporter from the New York Post on the line. He wants to know if you want to make a comment about Spitzer's win. Not even the pose can print the comment I'd like to make. All right, I'll tell him no comment. Are you going to call the new governor? Sure, let's get it over with. Bruno has a bad feeling in his belly about Elliot

Spitzer. He knows the type, big talker, who thinks he's going to muscle in and dictate how things are going to run in Albany. But that's not how Albany operates. Bruno fakes enthusiasm as he gets on the phone. Sir, it's him. Mr. Governor-elect, I guess congratulations are in order. Bruno's a former boxer, a Korean war vet. He's survived plenty of fights with Democratic governors and so-called ethics watchdogs. If Spitzer is spoiling for a fight, he'll give him one. But what Joe Bruno has no way of knowing

is how bruised and bloody that fight will leave them both. In the past decade, Boeing has been involved in a series of scandals and deadly crashes that have dented its once sterling reputation. At the center of it all, the 737 MAX, the latest season of business wars, explores how Boeing allowed things to turn deadly and what, if anything, can save the company's reputation. Make sure to listen to Business Wars wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal. In America, the foundation of democracy is based on a simple concept. One person, one vote. Once elected, our leaders are entrusted with making decisions based on what they promise to do

and what's best for the collective good. That's how it's supposed to work. Yet throughout American history, war bosses and politicians have gathered in secret under the haze of cigar smoke, men like Boss Tweed of Tammany Hall, Huey Long, and Big Bill Thompson, to make deals based on another rule. I scratch your back and you scratch mine. In the summer of 2004, the Brennan Center for Justice released a study on the most dysfunctional state legislatures in the country. It wasn't Illinois or Louisiana at the top of the list. The most dishonest state capital in America was Albany, New York. In the last 10 years, more than 30 current and former elected officials from

the state of New York have been indicted, convicted, sanctioned, or accused. Political corruption is hardly unique, but apparently, Albany does it better than anyone else. What is it about the New York State Capitol that drowns even the most idealistic politicians in a cesspool of corruption? And is it possible for a politician to change the culture in Albany? Or is it inevitable the culture of Albany

changes them? That's what we're exploring in this four-part series, New York State of Crime. Three years after the Brennan study is published, Eliot Spitzer is the idealistic governor who has cleaned up financial corruption on Wall Street as the state's attorney general. He believes he can change the culture of Albany the same way. What he doesn't know when he walks onto his first day of the job is that the fight he's about to take on will end not just in failure, but in a political and very personal scandal. And pretty soon, the politicians who gleefully watch Spitzer fall will themselves be taken down. One by one, these men, and they

are incidentally all men, who run Albany will fall like dominoes. Joe Bruno, Sheldon Silver, and Dean Skelos. This is Episode One, Three Men in a Room. It's New Year's Day, 2007, Albany, New York. The weather is gray and gloomy, with freezing rain in the forecast. But in the state capitol, the mood is anything but gloomy. It's Inauguration Day for the 54th governor of the state of New York, and people have shown up from across the state to show their support. The change so many New Yorkers have been promised has finally arrived. As the horns from a 12-piece orchestra

play a stately fanfare, Eliot Spitzer makes his way down the majestic Capitol steps, accompanied by his wife, Silda, and their three daughters, dressed in crisp reds and whites. At 1 p.m., it's time. Spitzer steps up to the podium and raises his right hand for the oath of office. The crowd tightens their scarves and blow on their hands to ward off the cold, but Spitzer wears only a suit jacket and tie, as if to say a little weather can't diminish his machismo. His smile is so big, even the judge performing the rites can't help smiling back. Few would imagine that Spitzer's already had a long day. He was up at five for a morning jog in

Washington Park, where he was joined by more than 100 fans. By 9 a.m., he had signed five executive orders, all aimed at ethics reform and combating New York's infamous corruption. Now, here he is, reciting the same words that so many greats who have come before him as governor of New York have said, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, Nelson Rockefeller. Eliot Spitzer has been given a lot in his life. His father is one of New York City's most successful real estate developers, and Spitzer has had the best education money can buy, first Princeton, then Harvard. The kind of education that virtually guaranteed him a job at a prestigious law firm on track to a future partnership. But Spitzer chose a different road. He sees himself as a man of the people, and he's devoted his life to public service.

Specifically, fighting crime, social injustice, and corruption. And he's good at it. To whom much is given, much is expected, his mother told him often, and he's adopted the adage. Now he's about to be given the keys to the highest political office in the state. Spitzer looks hopeful, determined, stepping up to the podium to give his much-rehearsed Inauguration Day speech. Happy New Year, and thanks to all of you intrepid New Yorkers and friends for joining us on this gray but glorious January day. Clear-eyed and confident, Spitzer speaks without notes. He talks of the

illustrious history of the state, New York's former greatness. He mentions the word change several times. And then, at nine minutes in, he throws his first punch. Over the last decade, we have seen what can happen when our government stands still in the face of great challenge and inevitable change. In government that works for those who hold office, not those who put them there. Like Rip Van Winkle, the legendary character created by the New York author Washington Irving, New York has slept through much of the past decade while the rest of the world

has passed us by. Sitting among the dignitaries in the audience is Republican Senate Majority Leader Joe Bruno. He's a first-generation Italian-American, and there's a swagger to his style. With his tan camel hair coat, red silk scarf, and his full head of thick gray hair,

he looks more like a Mulberry Street ward boss than an Albany power broker. Next to him is the Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver, who wears a black wool coat and a black hat. Born to Russian immigrants, Silver is a Democrat from Manhattan's Lower East Side, and like most professional men from his neighborhood, he dresses conservatively. Informally known as Shelley and Joe, they are the two most powerful men in state government after the governor.

They have been adversaries for more than 20 years. Although the old saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer was not lost on either of them, in reality, they are neither friends nor enemies. They are simply two men with immense power who have had no choice but to recognize and respect the power the other holds. Both come from working-class roots. Both rose to power and prominence through sheer determination and will. Both have heard more than a few inaugural speeches in their 30 years of governance together. But never have they heard one like this.

And Bruno doesn't like it. He turns to Silver, scowling. He's talking about us. Silver isn't exactly pleased either. But in typical fashion, he's inscrutable and stares straight ahead. He's just puffing his chest up, Joe. You're all like this at first. The man's been governor for less than ten minutes, and already he's thrown us under the bus.

So, we'll take the subway. Easy for you to say. Your side is on the upswing. He's not after your seat. And to think I actually used to like the guy. He sent me a Christmas card this year, for Christ's sakes. I wouldn't wait by the mailbox next Christmas. Joe Bruno isn't much on patience, and he's pissed. Before the election, Spitzer swore they would run New York together,

said Bruno's problems would be with silver, not him. What Bruno understood that to mean was that they had a pact. Bruno would allow Spitzer to govern, and Spitzer would allow Bruno to keep his majority. Quid pro quo. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. That's how it works in Albany. But then, before he even took office, Spitzer pulled a fast one. He appointed a Republican state senator, Michael Balboni, to head up the Office of Homeland Security, leaving his seat vacant. Balboni, that guy wouldn't have even run if Bruno hadn't convinced him. And now his seat is open, a seat traditionally held by a Republican. But with

this new wave of Democrats, there's no guarantee it will stay that way when the special election comes around. Bruno knows in his gut that Spitzer purposely appointed a Republican senator to vacate a seat so he could get another Democrat into the Senate. This is not politics as usual. This is a personal affront. Spitzer is clearly gunning for him, and if he thinks he's going to put a Democrat in that seat, he's got another thing coming. That's his territory. This is about survival. And what Spitzer has failed to grasp is that he can't get anything done without Bruno's help.

There are three keys to this kingdom. And he and Silver hold two of them. On day one, everything changes, was one of Spitzer's catchier campaign slogans, and he's ready to make it come true. He has an ambitious agenda he intends to accomplish, and he's going to start with something big, ethics reform. He wants to send a clear message to the voters and to lawmakers. He did not come to Albany to play. This governor means business. this governor means business. But while Shelley and Joe might play along at first,

each of them holds near absolute power over their chambers and rule like strict, no-nonsense headmasters. They tell their respective parties how to vote on legislation and who to back for what. They're not about to give up all that power, not without a fight. They wield their power the old-fashioned way, with money. Namely, a giant chunk of taxpayer cash in the amount of $200 million written right into the budget under a line called Community Projects Fund, also known as member items. Member items sounds a lot better than pork, which is essentially what it is. Doled out in secret, Bruno and Silver can spread the money around any way they see fit. The faster a legislator wags his tail, the bigger the allocation. Fail to do what leadership asks, and you may not be invited back to Albany at all.

But within the first two weeks of January, Governor Spitzer announces a new plan for how the member items will be distributed in an ethics reform bill, and it will no longer be in secret. Now, each dollar amount will be listed as a line item in the budget with the name of the recipient, available for the public to see, and must be approved by the governor. It's all part of his plan to make Albany more transparent. Part of his plan to make Albany more transparent. Joe Bruno actually pledges his support of the ethics reform, as long as the reforms are announced as a joint effort. He knows how to play this game.

He can look like he's playing by the rules. Sheldon Silver agrees and says he'll be happy to make the announcement himself. He knows a good press-up when he sees one. The three of them appear together, smiling for reporters. The governor, the assembly speaker, and the state senate majority leader. Usually, it's these three power positions behind closed doors.

Today, they're publicly pledging mutual respect, cooperation, and transparency. It's a bleak winter day toward the end of January. Eliot Spitzer is preparing for an important press conference and tells his aide to get Republican Minority Leader James Tedisco on the phone. At the moment, Tedisco is in his car, driving to a meeting. Yes, Governor.

Senator, I need you at a press conference today, 10 a.m., ethics reform. It's 8 a.m., Governor. I'm in the car on my way to a meeting. I can't cancel now. What's more important than ethics reform? That's when Tedisco shares the real reason he's not available. All due respect, Governor, you completely cut me out of all the key meetings. Why do you need me now? Spitzer explodes.

I've done more in three weeks than any governor has done in the history of the state, and I'm having enough trouble with the other goddamn legislative leaders. Just do what you're told. Or what? Listen, I'm a fucking steamroller, and I'll roll over you and anybody else who gets in my way. He hung up on me. Jesus Christ. While serving as the attorney general, Spitzer's outbursts were legendary. He was the sheriff of Wall Street, and his strong prosecutorial style was effective. He won a lot. But staffers would often joke about his temper. When his face reddened and his voice started to rise, they'd call him Irwin, their name for Spitzer's evil twin. Throwing his temper around

was part of Spitzer's strength. It worked to take down financial titans and mob bosses. Why wouldn't he use the same tactics in Albany? But part of the plan is getting support from Republicans, like the minority leader James Tedisco. Except Spitzer's urging sound a lot more like a threat. The Republicans are vulnerable, and he's told several of them to

get on board or he'll bring powerhouse Democrats into their districts in the next election cycle to run against them. But Tedisco's not biting. He's a seasoned lawmaker who knows how to get publicity, and he leaks Spitzer's comments to reporters. But Spitzer likes the tough guy image. He doesn't care how many legislatures get their feelings hurt. He's got goals. He's on a mission. And nothing's going to stop him. Not yet.

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moved me and it's taken me to a place where I've had to consider some deeper issues around mental health. This is season two of Finding and this time if all goes to plan we'll be finding Andy. You can listen to Finding Andy and Finding Natasha exclusively and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. On January 5th, 2024, an Alaska Airlines door plug tore away mid-flight, leaving a gaping hole in the side of a plane that carried 171 passengers. This heart-stopping incident was just the latest in a string of crises surrounding the aviation manufacturing giant, Boeing. In the past decade, Boeing has been involved in a series of damning scandals and deadly

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You can binge Business Wars, the unraveling of Boeing, early and ad-free right now on Wondery Plus. The first big clash between Bruno and Spitzer comes in February. When Spitzer appointed Republican Assemblyman Michael Balboni to head of Homeland Security, his seat went vacant, and now a special election is called to fill it. One more Democrat in the Senate is one more vote for Spitzer's agenda, so Bruno is ready for the fight. Spitzer has been muscling in on his territory ever since he came to Albany, playing let's make a deal with Republicans in vulnerable districts, urging them to cross the aisle. Democrats are on the upswing, and the Senate holds just a slim four-seat Republican majority.

To Bruno, Spitzer's maneuver is a direct attack. And when Joe Bruno is attacked, he attacks back. It's what he learned as a boy who was bullied in school in the 30s in Glen Falls, New York. He even learned to box to defend himself. He may not be able to get Eliot Spitzer into a ring, but he can still throw a political punch. To fill Balboni's seat, Bruno backs the Nassau County Republican County Clerk Maureen O'Connell. Spitzer endorses the Democrat Craig Johnson. Between the two parties, they spend more than $5 million. It's the most expensive legislative race in state history, and because it's a special election, the whole campaign is only one month

long. When the fight is over and the votes are counted. Democrat Craig Johnson is declared the winner. The Republican majority in Albany is down to just two. I'm a steamroller, Spitzer thinks. Hell yeah. But for Joe Bruno, it's a humiliating defeat. Spitzer's next move to get his new budget approved and to make Albany more transparent is to destroy the Holy Trinity of Albany. He plans to dismantle the long-standing political tradition in Albany known as Three Men in a Room. Three Men in a Room dates back almost 75 years to Governor Thomas Dewey, who made all-important decisions about the budget by inviting the Assembly Speaker and the Senate Majority Leader into his office, locking the door, and deciding how the money was to be divvied up.

For 75 years, the most important decisions affecting the lives of millions of New York citizens have been made in complete secrecy, with no input from the rest of the democratically elected legislative body. Spitzer is about to change that. Located on the third floor of the Capitol building, an impressive architectural achievement modeled after the City Hall of Paris is the governor's enormous wood-paneled office. It's a room that commands respect, with an aura of history that is palpable.

And it's to this room that Spitzer calls Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver and Senate Majority Leader Joe Bruno for a chat. Even for a couple of old politicos like Silver and Bruno, the office can't help but inspire a kind of reverence. They sink into the well-worn leather club chairs across from the governor's imposing mahogany desk, and wait for Spitzer to tell them why they're there. This is a show of respect, gentlemen, and to let you know the days of three men in a room are over. Bruno cocks his head and looks Spitzer in the eye. And what exactly are you proposing instead, governor?

I'm not proposing anything. What I'm doing is expanding the room. From now on, the Lieutenant Governor will be part of budget negotiations or any other important legislation under discussion, along with the minority leaders from both chambers. I think that will give us a healthy quorum. Governor, with all due respect, that's just too many cooks in the kitchen. I'll also be inviting the press. We need transparency and we need some healthy debate. I'm sure you would both agree to that, right? Debate. Debates are fine for naming bridges or building a playground, but this is a

$120 billion budget. It's a thousand pages long. We'll be here the next Christmas. This is enough for discussion. It's my room, my rules. Next time we meet, it will be in the open. And I'll see you then, Senator and Mr. Speaker. Sheldon Silver had stayed mum through the meeting, but inside he's seething. He's not someone accustomed to being ordered around. This is Albany. You don't come into office swinging and barking orders, not even if you're the governor. You show respect to those who came before. There is a way to do things. But Silver is notoriously controlled. It's hard to know what's going on inside him.

And this isn't necessarily the hill he's going to die on. Speak softly and carry a big stick is his motto. And Silver isn't going to use that stick today. The hot-headed Bruno, on the other hand, says screw the stick. Joe carries a baseball bat. Bruno is irate. Who does this guy think he is? Nobody is going to push Joe Bruno around

and certainly not some entitled Princeton punk from Manhattan. On March 20th, Spitzer opens the doors and breaks the sanctity of three men in a room. The lieutenant governor is there. The minority leaders are there. And the press to capture it all. Bruno sits on one side of the table.

Spitzer sits at the head. On the other side, Silver sits unreadable and Stoneface is always arms crossed. The tension is thick. No one is quite sure how to act. Not the press. Not the senators. Not even Spitzer. Bruno makes a few verbal jabs, and Spitzer volleys back.

Reporters look at each other in confusion. Finally, the meeting is adjourned. The ostensible reason for the meeting was to discuss the budget. But at the end, the budget is no closer to being done. Meanwhile, the clock is ticking. Spitzer has promised the voters it will pass on time on April 1st. He's got 11 days. One day later, in the red room of the executive chambers with the press looking on, Spitzer tries again. The governor has presented his budget. Bruna has

countered with a version of his own. And now it's time to hammer out the details. And this time Spitzer has four other legislators on his side. They tell Bruno in friendly but concerned tones that his budget won't work. Spitzer is confident it's just a matter of time until Bruno has to come around. Except they don't have a lot of time. And Bruno knows it. Bruno complains there's no water in the room. Spitzer calls it part of his negotiating tactics. No one's sure if he's serious. Bruno wrinkles up his face, looking sad.

The press feels sorry for him. Shouldn't the governor give this man some water? One reporter wonders. The water bit is actually part of Bruno's tactics. It's called stalling, and he's very good at it. This is the time to dig in and get what he wants. If the budget is late, oh well. It will look worse for Spitzer than it does for Bruno.

He's savvy, and he's a survivor, something Spitzer will soon be learning. Spitzer's starting to feel his steamroller sputter. He's ready to negotiate with Bruno, but he doesn't have a whole lot of chit stored up or favors to call in. And if this budget doesn't pass on time, the press will have a field day with him. His promises to change everything on day one, to get big things done, will be mocked. His approval ratings will tumble, and that's not something he can afford after just four months in the governor's chair. On March 31st, Spitzer's staff stays up all night bartering budget items with Bruno. At 4.45 in the morning, his budget director realizes it's impossible to get everything Spitzer wants. Bruno's camp is just not giving in. He emails his boss, we better start lowering expectations.

Spitzer realizes he needs to act now if he stands a prayer of getting any of his agenda through on deadline. One minute after receiving the email, Spitzer emails back and tells the team to compromise. And then he calls Bruno and Silver and the two minority leaders to meet at 11 a.m. calls Bruno and Silver and the two minority leaders to meet at 11 a.m. in secret, behind closed doors. So it's five men in a room, but still. Seven hours later, they emerge. The chess game is over. A budget approved, ready to send to the legislature. Governor Spitzer then issues what is called a message of necessity and removes the three-day review period for the public and the 207 legislatures. Instead, he drops the budget in their laps and tells them it's approved, rubber stamp it, just the way business has always been done in this city. And the legislators, as always, vote how their leaders tell them.

Only one day late, the budget has officially passed. But Spitzer has officially crossed his own line. After his Herculean effort to pass the budget, Spitzer is feeling good. He managed to get several important items of his agenda into the budget. A hard-won battle and an incredible accomplishment given Bruno's stubbornness. Sure, he had to compromise on a few things here, give up a few others there, but in his mind he's made tangible progress toward his goals and for the people of New York. So he's surprised to find that his

approval numbers have, in fact, gone down. The public knows the budget was hammered out in secret and then crammed down the legislators' throats with orders to vote it through. It reeks of business as usual, and it's not what they had signed up for with Spitzer. Where were the open, rational debates? Where's the new transparency? Bruno takes the opportunity to throw a political sucker punch. He goes on a conservative radio show

and calls Spitzer a rich, overgrown, spoiled brat. The punch hits the governor exactly where intended. The next morning, he calls Bruno seething mad and demands he comes to his office. Bruno refuses. He has other plans. Spitzer tells him if he doesn't come to his office immediately, he'll knock him out. Bruno ends the conversation. Go fuck yourself.

In just three short months, this is what it's come to. The governor and Senate Majority Leader of New York snarling at each other, hurling profanities, and digging in. They're from opposite parties, from opposite sides of the tracks, but they both love a fight. The battle between Spitzer and Bruno is just getting started, and neither will back down until one of them's gone. He was hip-hop's biggest mogul,

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Listen to The Rise and Fall of Diddy exclusively with Wondery Plus. Spitzer came to Albany to change not just the budget process, but to enact real campaign finance reform, too. Reducing the role of money in politics was popular with the public and could curb the influence of special interests. Spitzer sees a winning issue, and in June, two months after the budget standoff, he vows he will negotiate with the door open. No more three men in a room, or five. No more secret negotiations. The process will be out in the open for everyone to see. Spitzer sets up a meeting in the office that once belonged to Teddy Roosevelt, and then he assigns everyone seats at a conference table. Spitzer sits at the head.

Silver crosses his arms, making it clear he sees the session as a waste of time. Bruno is even more annoyed than Silver. Are they really going to talk about campaign finance reform? Again, everybody already knows where he stands. Joe Bruno has never met a campaign donor he didn't like or a donation he wasn't happy to accept. He glares at Spitzer. If someone wants to give me a million dollars because they like what we do, that's fine.

Bruno grew up poor in a family of eight. His father shoveled coal. He needs campaign contributions. Spitzer, meanwhile, grew up in a home with 10 bedrooms in New York City. Bruno doesn't have the deep pockets of Spitzer's father, who had financed most of his son's campaign when he ran for attorney general. Besides, as long as the name of the donor and the dollar amount are divulged, what's the problem? He also believed the beneficiary of the donation should be given a wide berth when it comes to spending that money.

For Bruno, that sometimes means using campaign funds for landscaping on his horse farm as part of his entertainment expenses. It was already known that he paid for a $1,300 pool cover out of donor money. But how can you entertain with leaves in your pool? So far, no one has questioned him. Bruno was the boss. Until now. On June 21st, the final day of the legislative session, Spitzer threatens to hold up a spending bill he knows is important to Bruno if he doesn't give in on campaign finance reform. That's all Bruno needs to move to his endgame. He adjourns the Senate and shuts down the legislature. No deal. See you next year. Bruno calls a press

conference and announces, the legislative session that began with promise and achievement ended with a whimper. Spitzer is furious. He doesn't whimper. He roars. But so does Bruno. The next round between these two men will not be legislative warfare. It'll be very, very personal. In late May, a month before the legislative session ended, Spitzer's senior advisor receives an intriguing email from communications director Darren Dopp. Dopp has a bit of the boy-next-door quality. Earnest, soft-spoken. But he's also very, very smart. And Dopp would walk on fire for Governor Spitzer.

In the email, he writes, Records exist going way back of Bruno using state aircraft for use outside of his official duties. He writes, Several days later, Dopps sends another email on the heels of a story in the local Times Union about Bruno's business dealings that are under federal investigation. In this one, he says, Think a travel story will fit nicely in the mix. He orders the superintendent of police to look into several trips Bruno made to New York City in May 2007. They're interested in Bruno's use of state aircraft and police escorts, and details of all the stops he made on each trip. There's a problem, though. State

troopers don't keep records on every stop made by a politician along the way, just the broad strokes that a trip had occurred. No problem, Dop tells him. Just have them create anything missing from memory. He receives the report and finds at least three occasions where it's claimed Bruno used state aircraft for personal business. A corruption story like this could bring a heap of trouble to Bruno's doorstep. Maybe even shut him down for good, something Spitzer has wanted to see since his first month in office. So Dopp's surprised when

he approaches Spitzer with his findings at the end of May, and Spitzer tells him to leave it alone. Spitzer says since they don't have Bruno's detailed schedule, they don't really know what he was doing. To Dopp, it doesn't make sense. It's not like Joe Bruno wasn't suspected of using state helicopters in the past. During the Pataki administration, Bruno used helicopters like a Fortune 500 CEO. He used them for political fundraising and personal business. He might make a call here or there related to government matters, but usually he was fundraising or meeting with private clients, the kind that paid him thousands of dollars to consult or union officials to solicit pension investments. Bruno flew to New York City several times to meet with Jared Abruzzese.

Abruzzese and Bruno shared a love of thoroughbred horses and horse racing. The relationship was a lucrative one for Bruno. Abruzzese paid him $440,000 over the course of two years. And once, when Governor George Pataki denied him a helicopter, Abruzzese paid for a private chartered plane to get Bruno home. So suspicious were the trips, Pataki eventually restricted Bruno's access to state-owned planes and choppers. But still, Spitzer doesn't want to go there. Legislators are still in session. He doesn't want people distracted. He has an agenda he needs to get through.

But then comes the end of the legislative session, and things look different to Spitzer. Bruno ended the legislative session with Spitzer empty-handed. He hadn't accomplished his agenda, and all thanks to Bruno. Spitzer is sitting at his desk, drinking coffee, reading through a stack of papers with a scowl on his face when Dopp comes in. Boss, you okay with the release of these plane records?

Spitzer doesn't look up. Yeah, do it. Are you sure? Bruno's gonna be furious. Dopp sees that the governor's face is starting to turn red. He's pissed. Clearly, Spitzer has had enough of Bruno. Now he unleashes a stream of expletives

that ends by telling Dopp that Bruno can shove it up his ass with a red-hot poker. According to Dopp, the governor was literally spitting mad. There was coffee coming out of the corners of his mouth. Later, Dopp will say the governor made it clear he wanted him to take the information

about Bruno public. Spitzer will later say that he gave no such order. But whether or not that meeting took place, what happens next is more certain. Dopp heads back to his office and calls a reporter. Hey, it's Dopp. I have a tip for you. Is this on the record? You're going to need to put in a FOIL request. FOIL stands for Freedom of Information Law. And before the government can release records, a request for specific information must be submitted and then approved.

I'll get the request in. You can't tell me anything? Well, it didn't come from me. Okay. It involves the use of state transportation for personal use at $7,200 a ride. Go ahead, put in the request. On June 27th, the reporter files a request asking for the records on several Albany politicians, including Spitzer. A day later, he receives the trip records for Bruno. On July 1, the Times Union publishes a story with the headline,

State Flies Bruno to Fundraisers, Taxpayers Finance Trips of Senate Majority Leader to NYC Political Events. The copy is worse. Three times this year, Senate Majority Leader Joseph L. Bruno used taxpayer-funded state aircraft to fly to political fundraisers in Manhattan while certifying he was on official state business, according to documents obtained by the Times Union. That morning, Spitzer sends an email to Dopp. Haven't seen paper yet. How does it look? Dopp responds, gotta see to believe. Spitzer is pleased. At last, Bruno is on the ropes. The public doesn't like their officials to be jetting around like a corporate CEO. This could be a career ender.

What they don't know is that Bruno never goes down without a fight. And for this one, the gloves are off. From Wondery, this is episode one of five of New York's State of Crime for American Scandal. On the next episode, Governor Spitzer finds himself in the center of one of the biggest political scandals Albany has seen, and Senator Bruno has troubles of his own. To listen to the rest of this season of American Scandal, start your free trial of Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. With Wondery Plus, you can listen to other incredible history podcasts like American History Tellers, History Daily, Tides of History, and more.

Download the Wondery app today. Thank you. Wondery.