Page 70 - How To Get Rich

Maybe I’ll sue them anyway, just to prove my point. Business can be
tough, but you’ve got to stay true to your principles.

Sometimes You Have to Hold a Grudge

For years, I supported the governor of New York Mario Cuomo. I was
one of his largest campaign contributors. I never asked for a thing while he
was in office. For my generous support, he regularly thanked me and other
major contributors with a tax on real estate so onerous that it drove many
investors away from the city. It became known as the Cuomo Tax.
After he was defeated for reelection by a better man (and governor),
George Pataki, I called Mario to ask for a perfectly legal and appropriate

favor involving attention to a detail at the Department of Housing and
Urban Development, which at the time was being run by his son Andrew.
Mario told me that this would be hard for him to do, because he rarely
calls the Secretary on business matters.
I said to him, Mario, he is not the Secretary. He’s your son.
Mario said, Well, I think of him as the Secretary, and I refer to him as

that—he’s got a very serious job to do.
I understood Mario’s concern about impropriety, but I wasn’t asking
him to do anything even slightly questionable—this was a simple,
aboveboard request, the kind of favor that takes place between friends in
the private and public sectors all the time. Finally, I asked Mario point-
blank, Well, are you going to help me?
In a very nice way, he essentially told me no.

I did the only thing that felt right to me. I began screaming. You son of
a bitch! For years I’ve helped you and never asked for a thing, and when I
finally need something, and a totally proper thing at that, you aren’t there
for me. You’re no good. You’re one of the most disloyal people I’ve
known and as far as I’m concerned, you can go to hell.

My screaming was so loud that two or three people came in from
adjoining offices and asked who I was screaming at. I told them it was
Mario Cuomo, a total stiff, a lousy governor, and a disloyal former friend.
Now whenever I see Mario at a dinner, I refuse to acknowledge him, talk
to him, or even look at him.
I will say this, however. Mario’s wife, Matilda, is a fine woman and
was a terrific friend to my mother. It’s not her fault that her husband is a
loser.