IN January, George Pataki addressed the New York state legislature as governor for the eleventh time--and proceeded to deliver an interminable speech on creating more bird sanctuaries, building new ethanol facilities, and encouraging kids to exercise. In what turned out to be a major applause line, he announced: "This morning I signed an executive order requiring all state agencies and authorities to begin using non-toxic cleaning products." When Pataki finally focused on taxes--New Yorkers endure the highest tax burden in the country--he mostly bragged about the achievements of the past. His major new proposal was to accelerate the phase-out of an income tax increase--a tax hike that had occurred on his own watch.
In fairness, Pataki didn't actually favor that particular tax hike. Democrats and Republicans in the state legislature conspired to pass it against his wishes and then overrode his veto. Yet as Pataki contemplates another run for governor in 2006--or perhaps even a campaign for the presidency in 2008--it is difficult not to compare his latest state-of-the-state speech with the one he delivered a decade ago. "The government of New York state is too big and it spends too much money," said the Pataki of 1995. Still on a high from his upset victory over Mario Cuomo, his liberal Democratic predecessor, the new GOP governor laid out a plan for aggressive tax cuts and spending reductions. And in the months ahead, he achieved much of what he sought and saved New York taxpayers billions of dollars.
Somewhere along the way, however, Pataki lost his enthusiasm for this bold project. Ten years ago, he had a chance to become one of America's great governors. But starting in the late 1990s, he devoted much of his energy to raising taxes and fees to keep up with state spending, arranging billion-dollar backroom deals with union bosses, and worrying about what kind of toilet-bowl cleaners swirl into the potties of Albany. Today, he presides over a state that just finished dead last in a survey of economic freedom conducted by Forbes magazine and the Pacific Research Institute. His tenure as the Empire State's chief executive began with incredible promise--but its legacy almost certainly will be one of squandered opportunity, shrunken ambition, and conservative disappointment.

LOSING HIS WAY

The 59-year-old Pataki is one of the most unassuming characters in politics. He would slip into the background of any room if his 6-foot, 5-inch height didn't have him towering over much of it. Last year, a Quinnipiac University poll asked New Yorkers whether dinner with Pataki would be "fun"--and more of them said no (48 percent) than yes (42 percent). It's no surprise that Rudy Giuliani completely eclipsed him in the aftermath of 9/11. Pataki's speeches are bland even by gubernatorial standards, and they seem to emerge naturally from a laconic manner that has made many people in his own party feel utter indifference toward him. Liberals like to compare Pataki to George W. Bush, and not just because he attended Yale and became governor of a large state. Instead, they think he's dumb and lazy. The charge isn't fair, because Pataki isn't dumb. (Of course, the charge against Bush is false on both counts.)

And lazy probably isn't the best word for Pataki, either. Instead, he's disengaged--and remains aloof from some of his most important responsibilities. The governor has strayed from the more or less conservative principles that marked his political rise, lost his ability to bend the state legislature, and abandoned his responsibility to strengthen the GOP in New York. "Pataki-land has become a place that sells out on everything," says George Marlin, a Pataki appointee to the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey. "The governor is going to leave the Republican party intellectually bankrupt and the state fiscally bankrupt."

Conservatives weren't thinking about any kind of bankruptcy on election night in 1994, when Pataki defeated Cuomo and became an instant political celebrity. He had spent eight years in the state assembly and two more in the senate building a reputation for fiscal thrift and social liberalism. Few on the right had major qualms backing him because his social liberalism never took on the flamboyant qualities of, say, Giuliani's--Pataki was clearly a family man whose support for abortion didn't keep him from voting to restrict Medicaid funding of it. His race for governor was often portrayed as the handiwork of a king-making senator. To be sure, Alfonse D'Amato played a crucial part in Pataki's securing of the GOP nomination. But Pataki also was his own man, and he had spent years casting votes against Cuomo budgets, which put him in a perfect position to be an anti-Cuomo candidate at a time when voters hungered for such a thing. During the campaign, he called for tax cuts and reinstating the death penalty--and he knocked off a liberal icon by four points. Even in a huge Republican year, this was a resounding victory.