...who was that mystery man sitting in the Subway sandwich shop across from City Hall on the first day of the hearings? The guy with the cash-filled envelope doling out dollars to those who showed up early to grab front-row seats and wave pro-Bloomberg signs? One likely suspect, a well-practiced Brooklyn campaign worker, denied it. "It's nothing to do with me, man," he insisted. The search continues.
So does the hunt for the telephone bank that routed pro-Bloomberg calls directly into the offices of council foes of the mayor's bill. Who paid for that? Not us, said an administration official who suggested a friendly labor group was behind it.
The mayor's was a no-fingerprints operation. He closed out his 2005 campaign committee last year, never even bothering to report a poll his aides admitted he did last spring—months before the financial crisis hit—to check the public pulse for extending term limits (there was none; a pulse, that is).
Bloomberg's Term-Limits Coup: Heroes, Villains, and Wimps
Bloomberg and Quinn may have carried the day, but you had to believe they bought themselves a world of future political pain in doing so. As any tinpot banana republic generalissimo will tell you, the next coup is always around the corner.