J. David Goodman

Inside, the New York attorney general, Letitia James, danced atop a platform in a roped-off club at an exclusive party hosted by a New York City public employee union. Lobbyists swayed to the beat, mingling near the tate Assembly speaker and Brooklyn’s district attorney.

It is perhaps the most unusual gathering in New York politics, held 1,600 miles away: the annual exodus of the state’s political class to Puerto Rico.

The vibe is something like a spring break pilgrimage for public officials and the lobbyists who woo them, where mojitos accompany talk of prevailing wages and the traditional “talk to my staff” culture melts away.

The event is staged by a nonprofit known as Somos, whose stated purpose, according to tax filings, is to “address problems of the Hispanic community.” The San Juan conference and another in Albany, New York, are the main endeavors of the group, whose chair is appointed by the Assembly speaker, Carl Heastie.

This year’s top sponsors, listed as paying between $5,000 and $40,000, were a who’s who of companies and groups with pending struggles in Albany.

There was Airbnb, embroiled in a bitter fight with a powerful hotel workers’ union, and cigarette company Altria, which is battling bans on flavored electronic cigarettes. Education Equity, a group opposed to changing New York City’s standardized test for high school, had at least two lobbyists stalking the main hotel bar.

“It’s basically Albany transplanted to San Juan, except with, remarkably, more lobbyists,” said Julia Salazar, a first-term state senator from Brooklyn. “The experience for me was just being bombarded by lobbyists and feeling pressure to party with them, which I wasn’t thrilled to do.”

Making the trip this year were Gov. Andrew Cuomo, Mayor Bill de Blasio, at least 13 state senators, 28 Assembly members, about half of the New York City Council, both the city and the state comptrollers, Cuomo’s budget director, union officials, and scores and scores of lobbyists.

For both officials and the lobbyists that followed them around, the appeal of the conference was the easy access to decision-makers.

“You’re not being handled, and there is no staff,” said David Greenfield, chief executive of a Jewish charity called the Met Council and a former City Council member from Brooklyn. “Around here, it’s 10 o’clock at night, and you’re like, ‘Look, senator, what’s the deal? You want to get this done or not?’ And they’ll say yes or no.”

Wearing a suit near the pool, Greenfield added that the flowing alcohol and the dress code that can turn quickly to cabanawear and shorts helps almost everyone feel relaxed.

“I would say probably more business happens here in one weekend than in three months in City Hall or in Albany,” he said. “That’s how significant it is.”

The relaxed atmosphere can begin on the way to the island: On one Thursday flight, more than a dozen top officials and a handful of lobbyists piled into the same plane, including James; the state Senate leader, Andrea Stewart-Cousins; and the New York City comptroller, Scott Stringer, another likely mayoral candidate. Officials visited one another in the aisles or turned around in their seats for conversation, like children on a field trip.

The conference included workshops on serious topics, such as the Puerto Rican debt crisis and the post-Hurricane Maria education system. “We’re there to generate revenue for Puerto Rico and to learn,” said Assemblywoman Maritza Davila of Brooklyn, who helped lead the event this year.

She said that she did not handle the sponsorships and could not provide the cost of the conference this year. “I don’t get involved in the money piece,” she said, adding that contributions to the event do not have any effect on legislation.

Larry Fernandez, chair of the Somos board, declined to say how much had been raised or spent at this year’s conference. He said in an email that the conferences in San Juan and Albany were the “sole purpose” of the nonprofit.

The nonprofit, formed in 1987 by members of the state Assembly’s Puerto Rican and Hispanic task force, has reported contributions of about $1 million a year in recent years and put an average of 6% of the contributions to grants or scholarships from 2004 to 2016. (In 2017, Hurricane Maria forced the cancellation of the conference in San Juan, and the nonprofit reported $337,000 in grants.)

The scheduled events at the conference in Puerto Rico, which began the day after Election Day and ended Sunday morning, were mostly an afterthought for the elected officials who attended. They opted instead for a string of meetings, meals and extracurricular activities.

“There’s a whole conference here, and nobody goes,” said one council member. “They come for this,” he added, indicating the crowded main bar of the El San Juan Hotel, where the conference was based.

Most of the more than 30 lobbyists, union officials and elected leaders interviewed for this article did so in various stages of inebriation and on the condition of anonymity. Two lobbyists threatened a reporter with murder — jokingly, it seemed — should their gossipy bar talk make it into print.

Other allowances are made: With cellphone cameras all around, legislators mostly avoid swimwear. One said she could not imagine putting on a bathing suit. A councilman said he made it a practice of never taking off his shirt.

Those who flew down Thursday, including Cuomo, missed the “day of service” that included tree planting and coastal cleaning. The governor’s speech at a dinner that evening lasted less than 12 minutes.

The usual dynamics of New York politics traveled down as well: De Blasio skipped the dinner where Cuomo, his frequent political rival, made his remarks. (De Blasio held his own events and meetings in Puerto Rico over several days.)

After the governor’s speech, a crush of people attempted to talk with Cuomo as he exited. New York City’s schools chancellor, Richard Carranza, was among those pushing valiantly through the crowd, but he failed to get the governor’s attention. Cuomo flew home that night.

For lobbyists, the conference offered a chance to make a direct case on policies — like single-payer health care or casinos or charter schools — that are likely to be taken up in Albany next year.

Several health care officials, including those from the powerful Greater New York Hospital Association, could be seen milling around, as could the chair of the state Senate health committee, Gustavo Rivera of the Bronx, who is sponsoring a bill to create a single-payer health care plan for the state.

The American Israel Public Affairs Committee had a presence, as did the real estate lobby. Rep. Hakeem Jeffries of Brooklyn showed up at the bar one night, joining Johnson, the speaker, and Diaz, the Bronx borough president.

Tough political questions — such as Puerto Rican statehood, a divisive topic on the island — did not come up in public discussions. Nor did Israeli internal politics, even as the conference honored Dani Dayan, consul general of Israel in New York whose support for settlements has made him a complicated figure.

Most people were content to gather a little intelligence on the next legislative session, get a window on how various political players are thinking, and — crucially — use the atmosphere to establish relationships and advance agendas.

“Somos is where I get my work done,” said Assemblyman Michael Blake, who is running for Congress in the Bronx, as he grabbed a quick bite on a hotel patio.

Nearby, Councilman Antonio Reynoso of Brooklyn passed by wearing a T-shirt with his name on it, white against a red background.

“You get way more people coming up to you,” he said of his shirt. “People are like, ‘Is that Antonio Reynoso?’ Yup!”

Keith Powers, a Manhattan councilman, stopped to admire the shirt. “Can I take a picture?” he asked, and then he did.

“Everyone is in the same place,” said Blake, finishing his meal. “The question is, what do you do when you leave from here?”

This article originally appeared in

The Tropical Conclave Where Politicians and Lobbyists Go to Make Deals

SAN JUAN, Puerto Rico — It was 11 p.m. on the Friday after Election Day, and two likely candidates to be New York City’s next mayor — Corey Johnson, the council speaker, and Ruben Diaz Jr., the Bronx borough president — were deep in conversation under purple-lit palms outside a beachfront hotel.

He called longtime political allies and associates he had not spoken to for years. He told people that he was not interested in small donations from casual supporters. What he needed — to help him qualify for the next round of Democratic debates — was big money, fast.

He asked for maximum contributions of $2,800, according to three people who were directly solicited from the mayor.

To some, he sounded hopeful and determined, to others, dejected and pained.

“We both knew that this was a Don Quixote mission,” said Ravi Batra, a supporter of de Blasio’s, relating a five- to 10-minute call from the mayor in mid-September, roughly a week before the mayor exited the race.

Batra had already given the maximum contribution to the mayor’s presidential run, as had his wife. But the mayor still called, hoping he could raise money from others.

And so Batra, a politically connected lawyer, asked his son, Neal, also a lawyer, to give. And he did: $2,800 recorded in federal campaign filings on Sept. 16, four days before the mayor dropped out.

The roster of those who gave to de Blasio in the campaign’s final days mirrors those who had donated before. In several cases, the campaign went back to the same supporters, imploring them to help find others to give. Friends. Co-workers. Family.

And de Blasio, as he has throughout his mayoralty, took an active role in fundraising. He has long carved out time from his official schedule for “call time” so he can phone donors and finance his political ambition — an aggressive strategy that led to overlapping state and federal investigations, but ultimately no criminal charges.

His need for more money grew more acute as his dim presidential hopes faded. Large contributions continued to come in, from lobbyists and lawyers, real estate developers and the family that owns the New York Mets.

But de Blasio had burned through $1 million in the third quarter of this year as he crisscrossed the country in search of a galvanizing moment to propel his campaign. At the same time, he struggled to raise money, gathering about a third of that amount.

Yet even in September, de Blasio did not talk as if the end was near in his telephone pitch. He still held out hope of qualifying for the October debate — which came and went without him last Tuesday.

Bruce Berg, chief executive of a real estate development company, gave money two days before de Blasio dropped out, according to federal filings.

“I did it as a favor to somebody,” Berg said in a brief phone interview. “I don’t want to talk about it at all, sorry.”

Another developer who works with Berg and gave that day, Peter Palazzo, said he decided to give a maximum contribution out of genuine political preference. “Sanders didn’t seem to be an appealing candidate. Warren didn’t seem appealing either,” he said.

“I didn’t realize — obviously — that he was throwing in the towel a few days later,” added Palazzo.

For his federal campaign, de Blasio said he would go further than the required rules and refuse donations from people who are listed in the city’s “doing business” database. But that did not stop him from calling those people and asking them for help.

David Weinraub, an Albany-based lobbyist on the list, said he got a call from the mayor last month.

“I hadn’t talked to him in a long time,” Weinraub said. “I said, ‘What do you need, a zillion smaller donors?’ And he said no, I got that,’” he recalled the mayor saying confidently. (De Blasio was relying on an endorsement by the city’s hotel union, which provided him with thousands of low-dollar contributions to his campaign.)

“The goal then was that he was going to try to get into the October debate,” Weinraub recalled, “and he said he actually needed some big donors.”

Weinraub asked his son, Frederick, an employee of the lobbying firm, if he would be willing to give his own money. He did so.

A spokesman for the mayor’s presidential campaign, Jon Paul Lupo, said in a statement that “the mayor has not accepted money from any person on New York City’s ‘doing business list,’” adding that “many factors” went into de Blasio’s decision to end the campaign.

Another donor, who requested anonymity to discuss the conversation with the mayor, said de Blasio called one evening last month after a long day.

“I said hello. He said, ‘This is Bill de Blasio,’” the donor recalled. “He said, ‘I’m doing very well but I didn’t make the September debate’ and — his voice was literally breaking as he said that — he said that more than anything he felt that it was important that he reach his goal of making the October debate.”

The mayor was again looking for a maximum contribution — which the donor ultimately provided.

“I just felt sorry for him. He was in pain. I felt sorry for his pain, not so much for him. I heard a person who was in pain,” the donor said. “As a lifelong New Yorker, I said I would be happy to contribute to that effort.”

Others were less forthcoming with their reasons for helping a mayor whose campaign was slowly coming apart.

“I’d rather not comment. There’s no benefit, no upside,” said Albert Laboz, a real estate developer who made a maximum contribution about a week before de Blasio dropped out. “No comment, see you later,” he added, before hanging up.

In the end, the mayor fell far short of what he needed. Just $43,000 in campaign cash remained in the bank, federal filings show, when the doors closed on his operation Sept. 20.

“Even though it was a campaign coming to an end, campaigns should come to an end gracefully and not owe money,” Batra said. (His son did not respond to a request for comment.)

The very last donors to de Blasio’s presidential campaign were executives in Sterling Equities, including Richard Wilpon, whose family owns the New York Mets, and Saul Katz, the team’s president, and several people connected to them.

They also received a personal solicitation from the mayor, according to a person with knowledge of the discussion.

But while filings showed a total of $5,400 given via two separate entities on Sept. 19, the mayoral request came back in April. They simply did not get around to formally giving contributions until September. If they had waited one more day, they might have saved their money.

Of course, the Mets management is not known for timing the market.

Inside the Last, Desperate Days of de Blasio's 2020 Campaign

NEW YORK — As the end of his presidential bid beckoned last month, Mayor Bill de Blasio furiously worked the phones, trying to forestall the inevitable.

There have been pitched battles over Brooklyn Bridge vistas blocked by waterside apartments, and the shadows cast by billionaires’ apartment towers over Central Park.

But when the residents of a 12-story loft building in Chelsea learned that a proposed tower next door threatened to darken most of their windows and block their Empire State Building views, they tried a less confrontational approach.

They banded together to make the developer an unusual offer: $11 million not to build.

The gambit captured the kind of wealth that now courses through New York City, where residents of a former warehouse building — with full-floor apartments that stretch 5,600 square feet, twice the size of an average new American home — were willing to pay a hefty price just to protect a view.

The owners used a typical developer strategy and turned it on its head: They bought the developer’s air rights — normally used to allow for taller buildings than allowed — at the neighboring property.

But the loft owners have no intention of using those air rights to build; their full intent is to prevent the neighboring developer from building anything taller than the three- and four-story buildings that had been on the site, at Seventh Avenue and West 17th Street.

“Sometimes people have bought a dinky little asset next door,” said Jordan Barowitz, vice president of public affairs at the Durst Organization, a real estate firm. “But I’ve never heard of that much cash being spent for an intangible, for a view.”

The deal, which took place in 2016, has not been previously reported, and some of those involved were reluctant to discuss it.

“It was expensive,” said John R. Muse, 68, a Texas investor and absentee owner whose grown children live in the building, on West 17th Street. “I wouldn’t say prohibitively. But expensive.”

Not everyone paid the same amount, with lower-floor owners paying less and, on the lowest floors, nothing. Muse admitted, with some embarrassment, that he could not recall exactly how much he had paid — perhaps around $1 million for his unit’s share.

A review of records over the past five years by The New York Times turned up an instance of a similar deal between a condominium and an adjacent property owner. That one involved neighbors of the Zen Studies Society on East 67th Street.

In that case, residents of the neighboring six-story apartment building paid $3.25 million to purchase the air rights from the Zen center, ensuring their windows would not be blocked in the future. They worried about future development on the site of the religious institution, which was facing legal trouble.

“It’s typically done by developers,” said one resident of the Upper East Side building, Ryan Freedman, who works in real estate. “This was the opposite of that.”

The L-shaped loft building in Chelsea, a few blocks from the West Village and Google’s New York headquarters, has been home to artists and celebrities drawn to its tall ceilings and sprawling space.

Meryl Streep’s husband, sculptor Don Gummer, once lived in the building, a former warehouse known as the Chelsea Prairie, as did actor Harrison Ford, who owned the penthouse until 2012, when he sold it for roughly $15 million. One unit recently sold for $9.75 million.

“At the price point, it just happened you had some valuable apartments and it was worth a fair amount of money to them,” said Jonathan L. Mechanic, chairman of the real estate at the law firm of Fried, Frank, Harris, Shriver &amp; Jacobson, who was not involved in the deal. “If you had $500,000 apartments, it would be much harder to get to $10 million.”

The idea for the deal materialized almost immediately after the developer, Gary Barnett of Extell Development, made clear his intention to erect a 145-foot condominium at Seventh Avenue and 17th Street, replacing a set of short buildings.

“He contacted the building management and said, ‘I’m putting a big building there,’ ” recalled Thomas Levine, 73, a painter who lived on the eighth floor for two decades and sold his apartment last month.

The proposed new building would have been roughly as tall as the L-shaped loft building — and positioned directly to its inside.

The residents moved quickly: Within about a week, a small group sat down with Barnett to offer to buy the air rights. He initially wanted far more than $11 million. Over several meetings, they haggled in Barnett’s offices. He never came to see the views.

Barnett recalled telling the residents that he would be willing to make a deal if they were willing to pay the right price. They were.

“It’s not common,” Barnett said. “Most of the time, they sue you and try and stop you somehow. These people stepped up to the plate and paid market value for the building rights.”

The deal took a few months to work out, but ended with a meeting in the sixth-floor unit to vote on the proposal. All agreed to go forward, even if, for some residents, it was a stretch.

“There were pros and cons about it,” Levine said. “But everybody realized that it was something we had to do. We wanted the light, we wanted the views, we wanted the value.”

Levine said he did not have enough available cash for the transaction, but that a neighbor was able to loan him the money.

“I think it was the most financial pressure on me,” Levine said, standing in the mostly empty corner living space where his studio had been. “But it would have been a disaster. It would have been a lot of dark.”

Now, instead of new condominiums, a short glassy commercial building is nearing completion at the corner, and nothing taller can ever replace it.

Unless, that is, someone some day shows up with an offer too good to turn down.

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/21/nyregion/manhattan-real-estate-views-air-rights.html" id="01fb431f-f264-3606-a240-a9c69da10f6b">The New York Times</a>.

NEW YORK — In New York City’s forest of tall buildings, having a view is an inestimable commodity, to be treasured and, when necessary, fought over.

How Much Is a View Worth in Manhattan? Try $11 Million

Then Reynolds American, the tobacco giant, got to work. It enlisted the Rev. Al Sharpton and his group, the National Action Network, as well as the boss of the Manhattan Democratic Party, Keith L.T. Wright, a former 12-term assemblyman from Harlem, to fight the ban proposed by the City Council.

In closed-door meetings with Council members in May, they argued that a ban would disproportionately affect black New Yorkers. They invoked Eric Garner, who was killed on Staten Island by police officers enforcing cigarette regulations, and suggested such encounters could increase if menthol cigarettes were to go underground.

The bill has since been set aside.

The effort to stop the menthol ban was centered on a long-standing but increasingly prominent and effective strategy for waging political warfare in New York: Deploy the concerns of black residents as a weapon to sway the Democrat-heavy Council toward a stance favored by corporate clients.

The approach has been a central part of a lobbying effort on behalf of the fur industry, which is working with black pastors to knock down a proposed ban on fur sales in New York, and a feature of campaigns mounted by lobbyists for technology firms.

A similar approach has even been deployed in efforts that are arguably against the interests of black New Yorkers. Ronald Lauder, the billionaire cosmetics heir, sought prominent black figures to lobby against a state bill to end New York City’s specialized high school exam.

Many critics, including Mayor Bill de Blasio, believe the test is discriminatory and has effectively blocked black and Latino students from elite public schools like Stuyvesant High School and Bronx High School of Science. The legislative session ended in June, with the bill never reaching the floor for a vote.

“Every smart and strong lobbying strategy includes coalition building,” said James E. McMahon, a lobbyist who represents both Reynolds and the Fur Information Council of America, a national industry group.

He drew a parallel between the lobbying campaigns on behalf of both clients, each of which sought to amplify concerns in the African-American community over proposed product bans. “Having a diverse coalition only brings strength to the cause,” he said.

Money has been flowing to New York lobbyists as never before, with most of the increase coming in New York City. The total city revenue reported by all firms reached nearly $110 million in 2018, more than double the amount in 2011.

Some of the largess is also directed to activist and nonprofit groups with views that align with a particular corporate interest. That spending is not always tallied in lobbying reports, though it can be seen and heard at City Hall.

“It felt like Uber, Lyft and Via had every single lobbyist in the city,” City Council Speaker Corey Johnson said. They made a similar social justice case for their services, he added, by highlighting the history of yellow cabs refusing to pick up black riders.

So, too, did Airbnb; it enlisted a Harlem pastor, the Rev. Johnnie Green, to champion home sharing as a benefit in low-income neighborhoods. The company, in turn, sponsored his events.

Green is also among those backing Lauder’s specialized high school campaign, known as Education Equity. The campaign, which has several lobbying firms on its payroll, has made thousands of dollars in contributions to Green’s nonprofit, Mobilizing Preachers and Communities, or MPAC, a spokesman said.

“White firms use us for good and bad. That’s how it works,” said Jacqui Williams, a veteran lobbyist, who is black. She added that the approach is not limited to the African American community. “They do it to every culture, in my experience,” she said.

At least four lobbying firms have pressed city and state officials on behalf of the fur industry, including Davidoff Hutcher and Citron, led by Sid Davidoff, a lobbyist and local political fixture since the John V. Lindsay administration in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

Davidoff’s firm, a mainstay on the city’s list of highest-compensated lobbyists, is also one of three representing Reynolds American — a fact he acknowledged after The New York Times asked him about the meetings with council members that Wright, one of his lobbyists, organized with Sharpton’s group. Wright was not registered to lobby on the issue at the time.

“I’m glad you pointed it out,” Davidoff said of the unregistered lobbying. “You’ll save us money on additional fines.” ( Wright did not respond to requests for comment.)

Reynolds also employs the firms of Bolton-St. Johns and McMahon’s JEM Associates NY, records show. But according to council members, its most effective advocate in defusing the council’s zeal for a menthol cigarette ban has been Sharpton.

“The issue to me is criminal justice and that is what NAN is all about,” Sharpton said in a telephone interview, referring to the National Action Network. He added that a ban would apply to cigarettes disproportionately used by black smokers, potentially creating an illicit market and increasing encounters with the police. “I think there is an Eric Garner concern here,” he said.

The proposed legislation, which would apply to menthol cigarette sales but not possession, would also ban flavored e-cigarettes. While the National Action Network opposes the menthol ban, the NAACP testified in support. One of its members wrote a joint op-ed with Chirlane McCray, de Blasio’s wife, who is black, urging its passage.

“For me, this is a no-brainer: It’s killing people,” Councilman Fernando Cabrera, the sponsor of the menthol bill, said.

Public health advocates and researchers have chafed at Sharpton’s position and pointed to his long-standing ties to Reynolds American. National Action Network members have opposed efforts to ban menthol cigarettes around the country, including in California, leading to some discord within the group.

“I understand the concern about black men; I am a mother of two black men,” said Dr. Valerie Yerger, a professor in health policy at the University of California, San Francisco. “But we’re not talking about the black people being killed every year from tobacco.”

Sharpton acknowledged that the cigarette maker had made contributions to his group for two decades, and he did not dispute that the company regularly buys tables for as much as $15,000 at its events, where political leaders crowd to speak.

“Ten thousand dollars or $15,000 would not influence us either way,” he said, adding that his convention brings in more than $1 million from corporate and other sponsors. “This is not about money.”

He declined to say how much in total his group had received from Reynolds American. A spokeswoman for the company described it as “a proud sponsor of the National Action Network” but declined to provide figures for their contributions.

If the effort to ban menthol cigarettes has flown mostly under the radar in New York City, that could be about to change: Faced with opposition from Reynolds and Sharpton, national anti-smoking advocates are promising to pour money into the fight.

So far, the fight over fur has been far more conspicuous.

Johnson, the council speaker, said he felt strongly about what he saw as the cruelty of the fur trade, and called for a ban on fur sales in the city. His push surprised and energized animal rights activists, including the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals and the local animal group New Yorkers for Clean and Livable Streets. Both groups are working with well-connected lobbyists.

During a hearing in May, dueling groups of protesters shouted slogans at each other.

The fur industry has poured money into lobbying and a marketing effort. More than $250,000 had been spent on mailers and other messages opposing the proposed fur-sale ban.

The debate appeared to shift in May when Green, the Harlem pastor who spoke in favor of Airbnb, organized members of his congregation and others in six buses for a protest at City Hall against the ban.

A Twitter post urging congregants to “come get on the bus” did not mention fur. The post has since been removed.

Green argued, as did a lobbyist for the furriers, Charlie King of Mercury Public Affairs, that the ban ignored the importance of fur in the black community, particularly among churchgoing women.

In an interview in the sanctuary of his church, Green said his congregation did not pay for the buses — or the 300 turkey sandwich lunches provided to the protesters — and refused to say who did. Nearby in the sanctuary sat an employee of SKDKnickerbocker, one of the registered lobbyists for the Fur Information Council of America. (The firm did not pay for the buses, an SKDKnickerbocker spokesman said.)

A person with direct knowledge of the fur industry efforts said that King of Mercury had arranged for a payment to MPAC, Green’s group. When asked if he paid the preacher group, King released a statement saying, “I don’t know who contributes to MPAC, but they should get donations for the amazing work that they do.”

Green declined to say who funded the excursion. “Who paid for it, how it was paid for, how much is inconsequential,” the pastor said. “What’s important is that people who needed to have food, had food. People who were interested in advocating against the ban on fur got on the buses.”

“Our people like fur,” Green added. “I think that they underestimated our opinion on this matter.”

Indeed, the argument caught supporters of animal rights off-guard.

“Whether or not it was a lobbyist that tried to create that narrative, it is a narrative,” said Matthew Dominguez, a political adviser for Voters for Animal Rights. “We will not tell them they are wrong.”

At the same time, Voters for Animal Rights has mounted a counteroffensive. A group board member, Jabari Brisport, wrote in an email that he “found it insulting that the fur trade would use my community as a smoke screen to defend this exploitive industry,” and sought other black animal welfare activists to help formulate a response.

Johnson said that while some black New Yorkers may dislike the proposed fur ban, it was hearing from furriers who would lose their jobs that gave him pause. Still, he added that he remained committed to the ban.

“No community is monolithic, and there are people on both sides of the issue,” he said.

Green suggested that a ban on fur could sour some black voters on Johnson in his all-but-declared 2021 mayoral run.

“If what’s important to us is not important to you,” the pastor said, “then when that time comes and you seek our support, it will not be there.”

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/14/nyregion/fur-menthol-bans-lobbyists.html" id="3b1ff9d5-da7c-334d-a187-f70e1e33af7f">The New York Times</a>.

When big tobacco invoked Eric Garner to fight a menthol cigarette ban

With San Francisco banning menthol cigarettes last year, and the Food and Drug Administration considering a nationwide ban, it seemed like the time was ripe for New York to follow suit.

<h1>NEW YORK — Last month, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez threw her weight behind a like-minded Democrat, endorsing Tiffany Cabán in Tuesday’s primary for district attorney in Queens.</h1>

Ocasio-Cortez not only gave her endorsement, she also implored her legions of online followers to give Cabán money — and just like that, small cash contributions poured in from around the country.

The race represents the biggest test yet for the coalition of local activists, reform advocates and democratic socialists who elevated Ocasio-Cortez from obscurity to Congress — a run that was itself fueled by money from elsewhere.

This time, the coalition is hoping to prove that Cabán, a first-time candidate with deeply progressive views on criminal justice, can win in a borough that still retains much of its working-class roots.

They are doing it mostly with money from outside of Queens: Only about 15% of the $450,000 given to Cabán in individual contributions — $68,000 — came from donors who listed an address in Queens, according to an analysis by The New York Times of her filings dating back to January.

About 45% of her contributions came from outside of New York City. Nearly $100,000 came from California alone.

The race for Queens district attorney, a contest about criminal justice reform, has become a clash between competing visions of how to fund candidates in local elections: sizable checks from local business interests versus small online donations from out of state.

One of Cabán’s leading opponents, Melinda Katz, the Queens borough president, has run a mostly traditional fundraising effort in her candidacy. She has collected endorsements and cash from major labor unions and local politicians, while amassing a war chest of big donations for more than a year from real estate figures and businesses.

That strategy was captured earlier this month at a steakhouse fundraiser with labor leaders, landlords and lobbyists in Lower Manhattan. Gov. Andrew Cuomo was billed as a special guest.

Each side has portrayed the other’s donors as out of touch with average Queens voters in the primary battle, with the winner expected to be a heavy favorite in November’s general election against the Republican candidate, Daniel Kolgan, a lawyer.

“You could make your entire political career out of donors who can’t vote for you, but they’re typically going to be big donors,” said David Fontana, a professor of law at George Washington University, who has written on limitations to out-of-district donations. “Now it’s becoming true for smaller donors.”

Campaign cash flowing in from other states to influence local elections is nothing new: Wealthy donors in big cities have long supported both Republican and Democratic candidates. Activist billionaires like the Koch brothers and George Soros support local campaigns and issues they care about.

But now those with just a few dollars to spare are getting in on the act. Campaigns have taken notice in recent years, soliciting donations using massive email lists and appeals to a common purpose to fuel small-dollar fundraising efforts on behalf of candidates in far away places — especially Democratic ones.

“It’s like discovering fire,” said Michael Casca, a Democratic strategist and veteran of Senator Bernie Sanders’ 2016 run. “The act of kicking in just a few bucks to candidates up and down the ballot in races across the country is creating an unseen level of solidarity in the movement.”

The approach was seen in Stacey Abrams’ run for governor in Georgia and Beto O’Rourke’s challenge to Sen. Ted Cruz in Texas, both of whom received huge numbers of small-dollar contributions from around the country during their failed bids.

In the Queens race, Cabán has amassed by far the largest number of individual donors — more than 5,000 total and more than 1,100 in Queens — using regular email solicitations.

Cabán, a public defender, has refused money from New York City’s typical donor class — businesses, lobbyists and real estate interests — and made that a key part of her campaign. She has linked her run to a nationwide effort to reform prosecutors’ offices that has seen recent success in Philadelphia and the Virginia suburbs of Washington, in part with funds from Soros.

Monica Klein, a campaign spokeswoman, said it was “no surprise” that Cabán has attracted support from around the country: “there’s a national movement to transform a broken justice system.”

Sens. Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, both Democratic presidential candidates, endorsed Cabán on Wednesday. Sanders did so in an email that also solicited donations for her.

On Friday, the criminal justice reform group funded by Soros, Justice and Public Safety PAC, entered the Queens race: a $70,000 contribution to the Working Families Party, whose members have been actively assisting Cabán.

The Working Families Party expects to spend close to $250,000 on the race, according to Bill Lipton, the party’s political director.

“Taking money from the real estate industry has become a fault line in politics for working class and progressive voters — a marker for who you can trust,” Lipton said.

Those comments were an unsubtle attack on Katz, the borough president. A veteran politician with deep Queens ties, Katz had been seen as such a frontrunner that a local politics magazine, City and State, put her on the cover Monday: “Katz in the bag,” the headline read.

She entered the year with more than $850,000 on hand, and has raised about $1 million since. She has taken checks of $5,000 or more from developers and landlords; from unions for hotel workers, painters and police captains; from allies of Cuomo; from the political action committee of Carl E. Heastie, the State Assembly speaker.

The checks are large and largely local: 80% of the 390 individual donors who gave Katz money from mid-January through the latest filing had New York City ZIP codes. Slightly more than half were from Queens.

Grant Fox, a spokesman for Katz, said her support “among the working men and women of our city” and among many of the biggest unions “will make the difference on the ground in Queens.”

Another candidate in the race has received strong support from inside New York City and its suburbs: Greg Lasak, a former chief prosecutor in the Queens district attorney’s office and state court judge.

Nearly 97% of his donors listed an address in New York state. Lasak has raised more than $1.3 million, including large sums from law firms, the city’s largest police union and from associations for court officers and clerks.

Bill Driscoll, the chairman of Lasak’s campaign, attributed the support to the candidate’s experience.

In the final days of the race, big checks have flowed mostly to Katz, who as of Sunday had taken in more than $235,000 in contributions over $1,000. The largest donations came from the United Federation of Teachers ($36,000), the real estate developer and financier Howard Milstein ($26,000), and Joe for NY ($12,500) — a state committee for the former Queens congressman Joseph Crowley, who lost his seat last year to Ocasio-Cortez.

Since the latest filing, Cabán reported no check greater than $1,000 — and those under that amount are not reported in daily filings. But the Working Families Party, which is supporting her, received $125,000 as of Sunday. (Lasak collected an additional $85,000.)

Cabán is not bereft of large contributors, including $38,505 from Cale Bonderman, a Brooklyn-based 26-year-old son of a billionaire investor, and $38,000 from Elizabeth Simons, whose address is in California.

Ocasio-Cortez helped raise $14,000 for Cabán in just a few hours on the day of her endorsement after she sent an email blast soliciting donations.

Katz, with her steakhouse fundraiser, did far better. The invite list for that event, at Delmonico’s restaurant near Wall Street, included some prominent lobbyists in Albany and New York City, and the Rent Stabilization Association, a landlord group.

She raised over $50,000, according to her campaign, a sum perhaps driven by the top billing of Cuomo as the special guest — no doubt attracting some of his supporters and donors.

They would have left disappointed: The governor did not attend.

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/23/nyregion/queens-da-race.html" target="_blank">The New York Times</a>.

The small donor model that helped Ocasio-Cortez win is aiding another progressive

The race represents the biggest test yet for the coalition of local activists, reform advocates and democratic socialists who elevated Ocasio-Cortez from obscurity to Congress — a run that was itself fueled by money from elsewhere.

Yet even among those who gave the maximum $5,000, few said they were willing to put their votes where their money went.

Dozens of interviews conducted by The New York Times with de Blasio’s donors provided a snapshot of his lukewarm support for president — even from a self-selected group of people willing to spend thousands of dollars to help the New York City mayor in his federal efforts.

De Blasio’s fundraising targets resembled those from his mayoral campaigns, as he tapped familiar sources of money from the middle rungs of the construction and real estate industries, and from ethnic business communities in and around New York City.

They said they gave to de Blasio’s federal committee, known as Fairness PAC, for a variety of reasons. Some pointed to his record as mayor. Some said they did so to have a chance to talk to the mayor. Others donated after being asked by another member of their community.

“Honestly speaking, I was asked by a co-worker if I can help, and I did,” said Nail Capri, an executive at a roofing and restoration company who contributed $5,000 in 2018. In March, Capri also attended a fundraiser for the mayor, a Democrat, that drew attendees mostly from New York’s Albanian community.

So is de Blasio your candidate for president?

“For me, personally, no,” he said.

The same could be said for a better-known $5,000 donor: billionaire media mogul Barry Diller.

“I’m certainly not a supporter of him running for president. I’m not a supporter of anyone at the moment,” said Diller, who is funding the construction of a park-island on Manhattan’s west side. “He was very helpful to us in building, and supportive of building, the island that we’re building in the Hudson River.”

NEW YORK — As Mayor Bill de Blasio enters the 2020 presidential race, an exclusive group of people would seem to be natural allies: the 115 people who contributed $458,000 to his federal political action committee.

J. David Goodman

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