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Tenacity a Schundler trademark
Originally appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer on 11/02/01
This is the second of two articles on the events that have shaped the lives and campaigns of the major-party candidates for New Jersey governor.
For nearly 30 years, Jersey City officials marked the holidays with a display at City Hall that included a Nativity scene and a menorah.
Almost every year, the American Civil Liberties Union wrote letters to city officials objecting to the practice -- saying it violated the principle of the separation of church and state -- but never took the matter any further.
Until Bret D. Schundler became mayor.
Only months into his first of two terms, Schundler turned what had been a minor issue into a personal crusade. He heralded the display as an example of how government should embrace religion. He carried his message to churches and synagogues, stirring public sentiment and all but daring the ACLU to challenge the display in court, which it did -- successfully.
The episode illustrates how Schundler, the Republican candidate for governor in New Jersey, was willing to use City Hall in Jersey City as a testing ground for his conservative agenda. So, too, according to those who know him well, would Schundler use the governor's office as a platform for his often-controversial ideas.
The dispute over the holiday display also suggests other traits. To his allies, it demonstrates that Schundler, 42, is a man of principle who will fight for his core beliefs with little regard to legal subtleties or political obstacles.
Critics say it betrays a tendency to grandstand, as well as a stubborn streak that does not allow for compromise. Even, they say, if it means losing a fight to make a statement.
In response to the ACLU lawsuit, a federal court declared the holiday display unconstitutional. After years of further litigation, a federal judge allowed the city to display the religious scene again - but only if it included secular symbols such as Santa Claus, a snowman and a red sleigh.
To many in Jersey City, the dispute was unnecessary and all too typical of Schundler's confrontational style.
"The Nativity scene was just something we always did, and we never had to worry about a lawsuit," said Robert Cavanaugh, a former City Council member and onetime Schundler ally. "But Bret tweaked the ACLU. He wanted them to go to court so he could make his point."
Schundler charted a similar course during his eight years as mayor. If he could not prevail on an issue through conventional means, he used other tactics.
For example, frustrated in his efforts to secure public funding for charter schools, one of his pet projects, Schundler found another way to open one in Jersey City.
He got the city to bond for the construction of as many as six community centers. Only one was built, but rather than operating as a community center, it was quickly converted to a charter school, with the city leasing the building to the school's operators.
Over time, Schundler developed a reputation as an innovative and independent politician eager to try new approaches to solve deep-seated problems. But he was also regarded as autocratic and combative, so secure in his own convictions that he had little patience for other views.
"He's a true believer, and what he believes in is himself," said David Murray, a consultant who works on Republican campaigns in New Jersey. "Getting things done in the political world requires compromise. He is uncompromising."
Jack Shaw, a longtime Democratic operative from Jersey City, said: "Bret is a man who totally believes that what he thinks is right and that sooner or later everybody will come around and realize that he is smarter than they are. If you don't agree with him, he renders you irrelevant."
Schundler's headstrong approach, though generally counterproductive, sometimes proved to be the former mayor's greatest strength, Shaw said.
"When he wanted to get something done and ran into a lot of opposition, he would put blinders on, and sometimes you needed that to get results," he said.
Nationally, Schundler became somewhat of a folk hero to GOP leaders and conservative commentators who viewed his political success in an urban, Democratic area as testament to how the party could broaden its appeal.
In the mid-1990s, Newt Gingrich, the controversial House speaker, asked Schundler to make motivational videotapes for Republican candidates. He appeared with House leaders in support of a bill providing federal money for parental choice on education.
Jack Kemp, a former vice-presidential candidate, described Schundler as "a Republican who's willing to think outside the box . . . on issues like taxes, education and development."
Kemp, cochairman of Schundler's campaign, also credits Schundler with an ability to "transcend the normal divisions in the political world," such as attracting the votes of African Americans and other traditionally Democratic supporters in Jersey City.
Schundler's unabashed conservatism on social as well as fiscal issues drew the support of Republicans in New Jersey who felt their views had long been ignored. As a result, he stunned the GOP establishment by winning the gubernatorial primary in June.
But his conservative positions on issues such as abortion, gun control, and public funds for private schools have made the general election an uphill climb.
Schundler started out in politics as a Democrat. After studying sociology at Harvard University and living on a kibbutz in Israel for three months, he moved to Washington in 1981 and worked in the office of Rep. Roy Dyson, a conservative Democrat from Maryland.
Schundler then worked as the New Jersey organizer for Democratic U.S. Sen. Gary Hart's unsuccessful 1984 presidential campaign. That is how he met his wife, Lynn, who was a local Democratic committeewoman.
From 1987 to 1990, Schundler worked on Wall Street for a boutique investment firm. Acting on a stock tip, he advised clients to invest in Fannie Mae and did so himself. His investment paid $4 million.
Schundler moved to Jersey City and set his sights on a run for the state Senate in 1991. It was then that he switched parties. His conversion, however, had more to do with practical politics than with ideological considerations.
Charles Catrillo, a former Republican assemblyman, convinced Schundler that it would be easier to get on the ballot as a Republican.
"It was all a very practical matter," Catrillo recalled. "I told him he would have to wait in line before he ever got a chance to run as a Democrat. There was almost no talk about ideology."
Schundler lost that race but came back a year later as a candidate in the special election to replace Jersey City Mayor Gerald McCann, who had been forced from office after his conviction on bank-fraud charges.
Schundler won with an estimated 20 percent of the vote in a field of 17 candidates. He was reelected a year later with 59 percent of the vote and won a second full term in 1997.
Much has been made of Schundler's becoming the first Republican to be elected mayor in Jersey City since 1917, but it should be noted that Jersey City elections are nonpartisan, with successful candidates forming alliances without regard to party affiliation.
In his campaign for governor, Schundler has received the support of national conservative groups.
Stephen Moore, president of the Washington-based Club for Growth, said Schundler's election "would prove that you can win in the liberal Northeast with an economically conservative platform. That would be huge for the Republican Party."
And, said Moore, for Schundler.
"Bret is no fool. He understands what this race could do for his political career," Moore said. "He would instantly become a national figure."
If Schundler has a flaw, Moore said, it is his tendency to filibuster, at times confusing his audience or ensnaring him in controversy.
"He will give you a 10-sentence answer when a two-sentence answer would do," Moore said. "On occasion I've told Bret, 'Sometimes it's just better to shut up.' "
Closer to home, many of Schundler's onetime allies say he ignored local concerns and spent too much time laying the groundwork for his future ambitions.
"I supported him [in 1992] because he seemed like a breath of fresh air," said Cavanaugh, the former council member. "We were tired of politics as usual. . . . Everybody wanted to give him a chance, but within a year it became abundantly clear that his only agenda was to get to the governor's office."
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