Personally and professionally, gay gov has uphill fight
By JOHN CURRAN, AP from Newsday.com on the Web, August 21, 2004
His political career in ruins, his employment prospects uncertain, James E. McGreevey faces a long, difficult road once he steps down as New Jersey's 51st governor.
When he walks away from Drumthwacket for the last time, the 47-year-old Democrat will be left to mend a marriage, take stock in himself and find work, salvaging what he can of a meteoric political career that flamed out, suddenly and spectacularly.
He's up to the task, say those who know him. But it may take time, given the circumstances under which McGreevey fell from grace -- resigning from office, coming out as a homosexual, acknowledging he cheated on his wife, reportedly blackmailed by a former lover whom he had put on the state payroll.
"He's going to land on his feet," said former Woodbridge councilman Robert Gawroniak, no fan of
McGreevey's. "He's much too intelligent. And I'm sure there's a place -- somewhere, somehow, and I don't know if it's in public life -- but he'll find a place."
For most of his adult life, that place was politics.
With big ambitions, a boundless supply of energy and the brains to put them to good use, McGreevey climbed the political ladder quickly after an Ivy League education at Columbia University, law school at Georgetown and a master's in education from Harvard.
From prosecutor to parole board member, then lobbyist, assemblyman, mayor and state senator, McGreevey single-mindedly chased his political dream, all the while harboring his secret.
When he stood next to his wife and his parents and outed himself in a historic Aug. 12 news conference, McGreevey effectively ended his career in elected politics.
Not only had he cheated on his wife, he had installed his alleged lover -- 35-year-old Golan Cipel, an Israeli poet -- in a $110,000-a-year job overseeing anti-terrorism efforts for the state of New Jersey.
Recovering won't be easy.
Whether he steps down Nov. 15 or earlier, McGreevey will go from a mansion to a more spartan existence, with no chaffeur-driven SUVs and no staff.
Last year, McGreevey and his wife, Dina Matos McGreevey, earned $230,892, most of it from his $157,000-a-year salary as governor, according to their 2003 tax returns.
Dina McGreevey, 38, is an administrator at Columbus Hospital in Newark.
As a 19-year member of the Public Employees Retirement System, McGreevey has pension benefits but he cannot collect them until he's 60.
The benefit is accrued using a formula that takes an individual's top three wage total years. McGreevey's pension would be based on an annual salary of about $150,000, according to Matt Golden, a spokesman for the state Department of Treasury.
"I don't know that he'll walk away with anything. He'll have his pension, but any public employee would.
And he wouldn't be able to collect it until 2017," said Golden.
Finding work may be hard, too. Typically, ex-governors get hired as "rainmakers" -- lending their name, prestige and contacts -- with law firms or corporations.
But they may be reluctant to do so because of his public admission that he had, essentially, lived a double life for much of his life.
One prominent New Jersey lawyer who spoke on condition of anonymity said that, for now, no law firm would hire McGreevey.
Will he ever work in politics again?
"Certainly, he would not be that attractive a commodity in the political world, but there's no `ever' in America," said Stephen Hess, a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution, a Washington, D.C., think tank.
"That the amazing thing about our society. The folks from Watergate found other careers that ranged from writing best-selling novels to being prison reformers.
Of course, the time isn't now, but there's a whole world that revolves around advocacy for gay issues, for which he could become a speaker," said Hess.
When asked if McGreevey might find work in that field, a spokesman for gay rights advocacy group Human Rights Campaign didn't directly answer.
"Right now, the governor needs to work through the difficult period he's having and come to a place of understanding with his family," said spokesman Steven Fisher.
"That's what we would hope."
With a master's degree in education, a law degree and a wealth of political experience, McGreevey is a natural for public policy work of some type, said state Sen. Raymond Lesniak, a political ally.
"He loves public policy. My guess is that he'll do something in that area -- executive director of some foundation dealing with public policy in health care, economic growth, environmental protection, stem cell research, any of the issues he's worked on successfully," said Lesniak, D-Union.
On a personal level, McGreevey faces heavy burdens, too. First off, he needs a place to live.
He sold his $199,900 condominium in Iselin last September, and he can't live at the governor's mansion anymore.
More importantly, he and wife must either save their 4-year-old marriage or seek a divorce.
And there's 2-year-old daughter, Jacqueline, to provide for.
Dina McGreevey, who stood by his side with a half-smile on her face when he made his resignation speech, has yet to speak publicly about his revelation.
Unclear is whether she knew he was gay before that. She has declined interview requests made through the governor's office.
But saving the marriage is a long shot, according to Amity Pierce Buxton, executive director of the Straight Spouse Network, an advocacy group that provides counseling to the straight wives and husbands of gays and lesbians.
When one spouse comes out as gay, about one-third of couples break up immediately, another third stay together for a couple of years to sort things out and the rest try to make it work, Buxton said.
Of those who do try to stay together, though, half end up getting divorced anyway, she said.
Typically, a heterosexual spouse withdraws from family and friends after learning about his or her mate's homosexuality.
"They feel rejected sexually and their own identity is up for grabs because their belief system is upside down.
Marriage isn't what they thought it was. Sexuality isn't what they thought it was," Buxton said.
As for McGreevey, he, too, will likely re-examine his life.
"Having been through what he's been through, the governor clearly wants to live his life in a new way, as a whole person," said Curtis Bashaw, executive director of the state Casino Reinvestment Development Authority, a close confidante.
"That being said, the guy is incredibly intelligent, energetic, charismatic and tenacious, and he has skills that people covet in any number of industries and occupations," said Bashaw.
A former educator who taught McGreevey in the early 1970s at St. Joseph's High School in Metuchen said the best thing McGreevey could do now is to break his political ties and take time off to reflect.
David Bixel, 56, of Edison, remembers McGreevey as a bundle of energy who would raise his hand to ask questions even before everyone was seated.
His advice to his former student: Go on a retreat, and begin making amends with the people he has hurt.
"He's probably taken the first step into a 12-step program, where you do a serious moral inventory.
He needs to commit himself to wholesome things, to raise his daughters properly.
If he doesn't do those things and gets back into the kinds of things he's doing, I don't think he'll end up well," Bixel said.
Hess said the memory of McGreevey's scandal will fade.
"It's amazing what people forget. You go back through past scandals and think `Didn't he used to be...' or `Wasn't there something attached to his name?' or `Wasn't he the fellow in South Carolina who did X, Y and Z?'
"Washington and the state capitols are full of people who, at the very least, can be very effective lobbyists.
Why? Because they have some skills that got them there in the first place and those skills can be used," Hess said.
For the time being, McGreevey is focused on his transition and on his family, according to Bashaw.
"He has an eye to the future and looks at it as an opportunity to take a deep breath and see what way his talents will be most useful.
I doubt he'll go hungry," Bashaw said.
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