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Bret Schundler: Called innovator, risk-taker
Originally appeared in the Bergen Record on Sunday, October 21, 2001
When he was just 25, Bret D. Schundler was named New Jersey field coordinator for Democratic presidential hopeful Gary Hart, even though he had no experience in a political campaign.
It was a plum assignment for the ambitious, reform-minded Harvard University graduate who was eager to make his mark in politics.
Brimming with ideas, Schundler quickly sought newcomers to serve as delegates for the Colorado senator in the New Jersey primary.
But when Hart emerged as a serious contender, Democratic Party Chairman James Maloney believed the candidate needed the drawing power of prominent Democrats on the ticket.
The two disagreed, and both appealed to Hart's headquarters in Washington. Maloney, the veteran political strategist, made a more convincing argument. Schundler was no longer in charge of the New Jersey operation.
Schundler acknowledges that in retrospect, party leaders "made the right decision" by ignoring the demands of an idealistic upstart.
But the incident also highlights what devoted friends and supporters -- who have watched him since the days he was an All-State lineman at Westfield High School and later marveled at his long-shot campaign to become the Republican nominee for governor -- admire the most about Schundler.
They describe him as an innovator, willing to take risks and ruffle the status quo. He is someone who sticks to his convictions, imbued by his deep evangelical Christian faith.
"Clearly, Bret is one of the people who has the virtue to raise politics to a higher level, the kind of level that is necessary [for democracy] to survive," said Peter Flanigan, a retired investment banker who is raising money for Schundler.
Most New Jersey politicians downplay their religious backgrounds on the campaign trail. Not so Schundler, who is a rare blend of preacher and politician, someone who believes that reforming society -- or transforming it into a "beloved community" -- requires a devotion to Christian principles of love, charity, and peace.
"For me, Jesus Christ is my model, and what his life shows me is that the secret to the good life, the secret to happiness, the secret to human fulfillment . . . is love," Schundler declared in a 1997 speech.
It is a sentiment that infused the impromptu "sermonettes" he practiced on friends as a high school student. It is a driving force behind his plan to give tax credits to send children to private and parochial schools, a proposal he views as liberation for the poor trapped in failing public schools.
It is also a vision that colors his campaign positions. Ridding the Garden State Parkway of barrier tolls, he argues, will improve the environment, cut costs for motorists, and "increase peace on Earth and goodwill toward men" by reducing road rage.
But Schundler is no mild-mannered seminarian. Friends and foes alike describe him as a shrewd, methodical, and tenacious political fighter, qualities that Bob Rullenbarger remembers Schundler displaying as a teenage tactician of "Risk," the popular military board game.
"I can't remember ever beating him," said Rullenbarger, a childhood friend of Schundler. "He understands strategy. He was really planning the long view."
Foes have learned not to ignore him
Many politicians have either ignored him -- as they did in the crowded first campaign for Jersey City mayor in 1992 -- or have underestimated him, as they did during the Republican primary for governor in June. Most of the GOP establishment campaigned openly against him, only to be stunned by Schundler's disciplined and focused approach.
His blend of conviction and planning not only served as the blueprint of his political career, but helped him become a millionaire before he turned 30.
As a broker at C.J. Lawrence, a boutique investment house where he worked from 1987 to 1990, Schundler seized on an internal company report suggesting that Fannie Mae, the mortgage financing agency, was poised for a rebound.
Schundler not only urged clients to invest in Fannie Mae stock, but decided to invest his own money.
Patrick Allwell, a fellow trader, said Schundler was beyond enthusiastic about the stock's prospects -- he became an "evangelist."
The stock did gradually rebound. Over time, Schundler's investment grew to $4 million, enough to bankroll his political career during the 1990s.
"Bret had a great deal of conviction for his ideas," said Ed Sonderling, a former colleague. "People talk out of their hat, they might even say they believe in something. They could never tell you why. Bret was the complete opposite."
But where supporters see Schundler as a man of conviction, critics see an autocrat whose my-way-or-the-highway approach creates a sharp divide between those who support him and those who don't.
He has little patience with those who refuse to go along with his plans, ranging from the Jersey City police unions that blasted his reforms as "immoral," to a Hudson County Superior Court judge who ruled against him in an election dispute. Schundler branded the judge as "crooked" -- a remark that drew a rare, but sharp rebuke from state Supreme Court Chief Justice Deborah T. Poritz.
His relationship with Gov. Christie Whitman soured after Whitman abandoned plans to test a limited school voucher program in Jersey City. Schundler later clashed with her on other issues, such as cuts in municipal aid.
During the heat of the Republican primary, he called acting Gov. Donald T. DiFrancesco a "moron." Schundler later apologized, but DiFrancesco, still rankled by the remark, has not endorsed him.
Schundler "was like a dictator. His thing was, 'I know what's best for everybody, just do what I say," said former Jersey City Councilman Robert F. Cavanaugh Jr.
His self-confidence showed itself early
Schundler was born in Morristown in 1959, the youngest of nine children. His father, Otto, established the family's business of importing vermiculite, a mineral used for gardening and for swimming pool lining. Three of Schundler's older brothers continue to run the Edison-based Schundler Co.
The family first settled in the Colonia section of Woodbridge, then moved to Westfield, an upper-middle-class suburb in Union County. Friends and former coaches describe him as a self-confident, well-mannered student who was a non-stop talker.
"It was almost like he was filibustering," recalled Bruce Johnson, his football coach in the sixth grade. "I'd say, 'We are playing football here, Bret.' But he was talking about who knows what."
Talking came naturally to Schundler, who grew up in a household where the dinner table became a nightly forum for social and political discussion.
Schundler's parents encouraged their children to adopt a position and argue it -- even if it was unpopular. No one was ostracized for their views, nor was one view championed over another.
"Each person was following his convictions, which were arrived at by thinking about it after consulting one's conscience," said Rodney "Kim" Schundler, the brother closest in age to the candidate.
Schundler was also undergoing a religious awakening, but not through the staid Presbyterian church where the family filled the same pew each Sunday. Schundler's interest was fanned at the home of neighbors who held Saturday evening Bible-study sessions for teenagers.
It started out small, with only a few people meeting in the basement, but word spread. After several years, some 70 teens would meet at the home to discuss scripture, sing songs, pray, and socialize.
Dean Boylan, the star quarterback for Westfield High School, saw another side of Schundler, a starting lineman his senior year when the team went 10-0-1, capturing the division championship.
At 6-foot-1-inch, and weighing 190 pounds, Schundler was not a hulking lineman. But the "Perpetual Motion Man," as his coaches called him, was known more for his tenacity and his ability to adapt under pressure, instantly interpreting an opponent's moves.
"They would trap him, double-team him -- he would not stop. He was a very intense individual," said Boylan, who now lives in Charlotte, N.C. "You had to watch out for him. He would hurt you even in non-contact drills because he was going so hard."
Schundler's ferocity got the attention of area sportswriters and coaches, earning him All-State, First-Team honors.
College studies led to philosophy
Schundler entered Harvard in 1978, and continued to pursue a blend of religious study. He also plunged into a reading of philosophical texts, an interest that never faded.
As a sociology major, he began studying self-reliant communities that were structured around adherence to rules and values of their religions.
During his junior year, Schundler took a spring semester off to research his senior thesis. He lived on a kibbutz in Israel for three months, and moved to Washington, D.C., where he observed a Christian commune called the Sojourners.
"The functional kernel of the Christian faith, at least it seems as intended by Jesus, and I believe realized by the Sojourners, is a basic affirmation of life's goodness, and an eternal linkage between a man and his brother," Schundler wrote.
That summer, he was also drawn to government and politics. He sent his resume to offices throughout Capitol Hill, and landed an internship with Rep. Roy Dyson, a conservative Democrat from Maryland. He was hired full time after his graduation from Harvard in 1981.
Schundler climbed quickly in the office, where former colleagues remember him as bright, eager to please, and ambitious, but not particularly ideological.
But Schundler viewed his time there as a disappointment. Dyson, in his eyes, was a run-of-the-mill constituent-service politician, who read the pulse of his district and voted accordingly.
"Dyson did not have a world view," Schundler said. "I didn't exactly have a sense that he really wanted to change the world or that he had a vision for it."
After leaving Dyson, Schundler joined the Hart campaign until late spring 1984, when former Vice President Walter Mondale edged Hart for the Democratic presidential nomination.
Although his stint with Hart was short-lived, it provided one long-lasting benefit: He met his future wife, Lynn Greenfield, a Democratic committeewoman from Cranford, who also worked on the campaign. Married in 1985, the couple settled into a brownstone in Jersey City near a PATH station that offered an easy commute to Wall Street, first to Salomon Bros. and later to C J. Lawrence.
Jersey City GOP enticed him to run
After Schundler became a millionaire, he quit his Wall Street job to travel around the world with his wife. Jobless after his return, he was lured into politics.
Local Republican operatives, eager for an attractive, articulate candidate to challenge the city's Democratic machine, approached Schundler, who had drawn attention as a member of a civic group that fought tax assessments.
Charles Catrillo, a former one-term Republican assemblyman from Jersey City, encouraged him to run for the state Senate in 1991. Catrillo argued it would be easier for Schundler to earn the nomination as a Republican, rather than take his chances with the Democrats.
"He had the hunger in his eyes. He had the desire to go out there and win, that inner drive," said Catrillo, who is backing Democrat Jim McGreevey in the governor's race. "I could tell right away that he was penciling himself in for bigger and better things. In his mind, he was going to be successful in politics right away."
Dale Pritchett, a longtime friend who moved to Jersey City at Schundler's urging, remembered how Schundler's interest in local politics was piqued over reports of election fraud allegations during the mid-1980s. Schundler was incensed and wanted to wage a door-to-door recall effort.
"I said, 'C'mon. This is Jersey City. It's not called corruption. It's called tradition,' " Pritchett said. "It never occurred to me that he would be mayor."
Schundler lost his bid for the Senate in 1991 to the incumbent, Democrat Edward T. O'Connor.
He did not wait long for another opportunity. When Mayor Gerald McCann was forced to step down in 1992 after his conviction on federal bank fraud charges, the city held a special election that November to fill out the final year of his term.
Schundler and his supporters often paint the 1992 election as a triumph of the GOP philosophy in a city where Democrats outnumber Republicans 8-to-1. But in reality, the volatile political environment was ripe to be exploited by an aggressive candidate with money and political smarts to downplay his Republican registration.
Several forces aligned in his favor: The Democratic Party, which normally picked its preferred candidate, was in disarray after McCann's departure, leaving all the candidates to fend for themselves.
Schundler campaigned aggressively, championing socially conservative positions such as school vouchers, while vowing to rid the city of its "corrupt" machine politicians.
In his direct-mail brochures, Schundler touted his experience working for a Democratic congressman and on a Democratic presidential campaign. On one piece, Schundler is photographed standing with arms on hips, flanked by a multiracial group of voters, holding their fingers in the sign of the peace symbol.
Jack Shaw, a veteran Democratic Party strategist from Jersey City, said Schundler's candidacy caught the party by surprise.
"He's a very flexible individual," Shaw said. "He is very focused. He just clearly puts on blinders and moves ahead in a very methodical, professional political manner, going from Point A to Point B."
Schundler won by 9,450 votes, or one in every five cast, to become Jersey City's first Republican mayor since 1917. Six months later, he won a full, four-year term with 59 percent of the vote.
Used post as mayor to try out his ideas
Schundler's ability to thrive in Jersey City as a Republican attracted national attention among conservatives, who were hungering for a new star.
He won praise from then-House Speaker Newt Gingrich, glowing columns from conservative William Buckley, and support from former vice presidential candidate Jack Kemp, who appeared at Schundler's side when he won the Republican nomination for governor.
From the moment Schundler became Jersey City mayor, he used the office as a laboratory for his ideas -- such as bundling tax liens as an investment to raise cash for the city's operations, or creating new "neighborhood improvement districts."
Schundler also used the mayor's post as his pulpit, preaching his views on conservative social theory and promoting pet causes, such as school choice and voucher programs. He often speaks in a rambling, almost professorial way, packing his speeches with literary and philosophical references.
After winning a second term as mayor in 1997, Schundler delivered an inaugural address titled "A Call to Faith," packed with references to Immanuel Kant, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Friedrich Nietzsche, Martin Luther King, Jesus Christ, and, for good measure, pop stars Kurt Cobain and Harry Chapin. It ended with a prayer.
On the stump, Schundler explains his proposals in detail, rather than boiling them down into sound bites. Some of his staff believe Schundler's lack of brevity is an asset that reinforces the image of a policy wonk who is passionate and knowledgeable -- even if voters don't understand everything he says.
During a visit to a Monmouth County senior center in August, Schundler discussed his complex plans to lower public education costs by giving tax credits to send more children to private and parochial schools.
He was given a polite, warm reception, but several in the crowd contorted their faces in puzzled expressions. Schundler plowed on, feeling compelled to explain it all.
Schundler's positions have alarmed members of his own party who do not share his beliefs on school reform and fear that most voters will not understand them or will dismiss them as too extreme.
But Schundler is unfazed by such talk. He expressed confidence -- or more accurately, deep-abiding faith -- that voters will flock to him once they get to know his policies better.
"I think the people will say, 'Finally, here is a guy who is standing up for us,' " he said. "We'll gain far more votes from independents and Democrats than we would effectively lose from any Republicans who take the opposite side."
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