Albany

When Andrew Cuomo first announced he was running for governor, he chose a site with symbolic significance: the Tweed Courthouse, the ornate monument to public corruption in Manhattan.

"Albany's antics today could make Boss Tweed blush," Cuomo said that day in 2010 as he promised to remake state government by scrubbing away its enduring ethical stains.

He hammered the same theme — and repeated the promise — 10 months later at his inauguration.

"We have lost the trust," he told the Capitol crowd. "And we're not going to get it back until we clean up Albany and there's real transparency and real accountability and real ethics and real ethics reform."

It all sounded so good, so promising. But we know now that the words were hot air. That's been obvious for years. The governor has never shown real interest in cleaning up New York's government, not when he benefits so much from the status quo.

Transparency and accountability? From the Cuomo administration?

Oh, man. Don't make us laugh.

Still, the federal corruption trial of Cuomo buddy and aide Joe Percoco has shown it's worse than we thought.

Turns out, Cuomo didn't just break the promise that helped get him elected. He smashed it like a plate at a Greek wedding and danced on its pieces. Cuomo didn't just fail to clean up the government. He is part of the problem.

That's true even though Cuomo has not been accused by prosecutors of wrongdoing. That's true even if there is a mistrial — on Monday, the jury was again saying it was deadlocked — or if Percoco is found not guilty.

The trial has revealed the administration's inner workings as ... what's the word? ... unseemly. Or tawdry. Let's go with sordid.

You'll remember that Percoco is alleged to have taken more than $300,000 in ziti — er, I mean bribes — in exchange for official favors.

Among its many revelations, the trial has shown that Percoco was allowed to use a state phone and office while serving as Cuomo's campaign manager — an elections law no-no. It has highlighted how the administration flouted the so-called LLC loophole to raise campaign cash from companies doing state business — not illegal, unfortunately, even if it looks so much like pay-to-pay.

Then, there's Todd Howe, the prosecution's star witness.

How could such a con man be allowed to work within sniffing distance of the governor? Howe, a liar and a thief if ever there was one, remained in Cuomo's orbit, which tells us all we need to know about the governor's indifference to ethics.

Here's how state Sen. John DeFrancisco, a Republican candidate for governor, summed up the trial on Twitter: It proves, he said, that Cuomo "sold his office to the highest bidder, engaging in shake-down schemes, exchanging government contracts for millions in campaign contributions. So pathetic, it would make Boss Tweed blush."

See what he did there?

Undoubtedly, we'll hear more unseemly and sordid and tawdry details during the upcoming bid-rigging trial of former SUNY Poly overlord Alain Kaloyeros, once a demigod in these parts for his ability to whisper massive tech buildings into existence. As with Percoco, the case implicates a Cuomo ally and taints the governor's economic development efforts.

It is unlikely, though, that the next corruption trial will offer a catchword as memorable as the aforementioned ziti — stolen from "The Sopranos" to serve as Percoco and Howe's euphemism for alleged bribes.

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"The ziti is in the oven," Howe wrote in an email revealed at trial. "Don't burn the ziti," he wrote in another.

You can imagine that Cuomo's stomach already turns at the very sight of ziti, so damaging has the pasta become to his reputation and ambition. As The New York Times said in an editorial, "Bribery described as pasta has a way of sticking in people's heads." President Trump may take to Twitter to describe the governor as "ziti man."

Cuomo's ziti stain won't come out in the wash. That should be reason enough to finally stop pretending that he's a viable presidential candidate.

Cuomo won't get far if he tries. He probably won't even bother.

The governor hasn't made many friends during his time in Albany, so it's tempting to gloat over his troubles. But let's not forget how badly this state needed him to deliver on the promises he made at the Tweed Courthouse and throughout that campaign.

"The words 'government in Albany' have become a national punch line," a victorious Cuomo said at his inaugural. "And the joke is on us."

Seven years later, it still is.

cchurchill@timesunion.com • 518-454-5442 • @chris_churchill