The Confession (39 page)

I could barely concentrate on what was being said. They shouted over one another, rendering opinions, speculating about the press and the courts, recalling precedents and old war battles. Some thought I should strike a defiant stand; the polls showed I might survive this. Conventional wisdom, on the other hand, said I was dead. Straw polls were being taken on whether I should resign. Three times the eyes of the room moved to Curtis's chair, and everyone awaited his observations. Each time I took his sleeve and moved him out of the room, around to the smaller study behind the library, so that I could hear him out in private. Frankly, it was the only way I could know what he was thinking without the din of professional politicians interposing their own ideas.

“They're trying to drive, Jim. Is that what you want?”

“Curtis, I've just done something I've avoided for my whole life. The last thing I want to do is return to the modus operandi of the past twenty-five years. Political solutions are all they know. I need to do what's right for my wife, my family, and the state of New Jersey. I need to follow my moral and ethical compass.”

When we got back to the room, somebody was laying out the consensus plan, but I interrupted.

“This is what I want to say,” I told them. I motioned for Curtis to take notes.

“I admit shamefully that I engaged in an adult consensual affair with another man, which violated my bonds of matrimony. It was wrong, it was foolish, it was inexcusable. And for this, I ask the forgiveness and grace of my wife. She has been extraordinary throughout this ordeal, and I am blessed by her love and strength.

“This individual now seeks to exploit me and my family and perhaps the state through financial and legal means which are unethical, wrong, and immoral. Let me be clear, no one is to blame for this situation but me. I accept total and full responsibility for the stupidity of my actions. I must now do what is right to correct the consequences.

“I will not seek reelection in November 2005. Yet I will continue with every fiber of my being to work on behalf of those issues which are of concern and hope to all our families.

“It makes little difference that as governor I am gay. In fact, having the ability to truthfully set forth my identity might enable me to be more forthright in fulfilling and discharging my constitutional obligations. But I have made a serious error, and for that I accept the consequences.”

Jamie wiped tears from his eyes. So did Ray.

“That's great,” Michael said. “You own the affair, you apologize. You take the high road.”

But the other people in the library, the party stalwarts, had moved on to the perimeter of the room, returning cell phone calls and positioning themselves for their next assignments, which no doubt included handicapping who would take my seat in the next election. As Curtis later remarked, “the light drained out of the room immediately for them. You were dead.”

 

THERE WERE MANY PEOPLE I HAD TO CALL BEFORE GIVING THE
speech early that afternoon. I spoke to Bill Lawler first; he was supportive. “Make your announcement, see what happens.” I asked what he thought the chances were that they'd go to court anyway.

“I have to be frank,” he said. “I think they're going to take this to court. They're that crazy. It only costs thirty-five bucks to file.”

“We'll win,” I said. “But how bad do you think the fight will be?”

“You will be vindicated, but this'll tie us up for six to eighteen months, easy.”

Almost as an afterthought, I gave Bill my consent to call the FBI.

Bill was pleased that I wasn't planning to quit. But I didn't admit to him how conflicted I was about that. I knew that what I did was not just foolish, but unforgivable. Hiring a lover on state payroll, no matter what his gender or qualifications, was wrong. I knew what my ethical convictions told me: if I'd been in the state Senate and some other governor had admitted this on the statehouse stairs, I would have called for his resignation.

 

AS JAMIE, CURTIS, AND RAY PREPARED MY SPEECH, I CALLED KARI
in Vancouver. She didn't react much when I told her I was gay. I suppose I'd known all along that she saw right through to my secret. But when I told her I thought I should resign, she reacted immediately. She asked to be put on speakerphone to address the room.

“You must not resign, Jim,” she said then. “Having an affair doesn't make you a bad man. Being gay doesn't make you a bad man. You are still the same man today that you were when you were elected—good, decent, moral. New Jersey is lucky to have you as governor. You must not quit.”

Her pep talk was politically galvanizing and immensely important to me personally. It opened up a profoundly candid conversation between me and my core group of supporters. They all still felt I should serve out my term, but not run for reelection. Despite Kari's vote of confidence, I just wasn't as convinced that was penance enough for my transgressions.

In the middle of this I took a call from Tony Coelho, the former House Democratic whip who had directed Al Gore's presidential campaign. I knew Tony through politics, and being active in the Portuguese community, he also knew Dina. He had offered me valuable advice in the past. This time he was calling to encourage me to step down, effective immediately. I didn't know how he learned of our growing nightmare.

Then he added a personal note. “Dina will feel she is being punished by all of this. She will be stigmatized because of your homosexuality. I know
the Portuguese American community, Jim. They're going to hold this against her.”

Tony also offered some sound emotional advice, which I found extremely helpful. “The only way to get through this is to believe in yourself, because no one else will believe in you without that,” he said. “You have to radiate confidence. Don't go into hiding. You have to hold your head up and be positive, relentlessly positive. You will have a political future. Maybe not an elective future, but under the right circumstances, if you do this right, you can re-create yourself as a positive public figure.”

 

JAMIE, RAY, CURTIS, AND I WRESTLED WITH MY OPTIONS. AT FIRST
I was the only one in the group who thought I should quit. Finally Jamie asked a question that turned many people's opinions.

“I'm sorry, but I need to ask this,” he said. “Are there other men besides Golan Cipel?”

I knew he meant in government, but I wrestled with the much broader question. Having come this far out of the closet, was I even capable of finishing out my term? I wasn't sure. As Congressman Barney Frank once commented about our respective situations: “I was clinically depressed, on drugs, seeing a psychiatrist. I wasn't functional. You can be a dysfunctional member of Congress, but not a dysfunctional governor. In Congress there are four hundred and thirty-four other people. You can't put a governorship on autopilot.”

I couldn't answer Jamie. I'm sure he took my silence as confirmation that there were other Golans, which there weren't. I'm sure Curtis and Ray did, too. It didn't matter to me. What mattered was they were beginning to see that I needed to quit, to take my punishment for what I'd done, to show the voters who had entrusted me with their faith that I was truly contrite—and to begin my healing out of the fishbowl of politics.

“Curtis,” I said, “I need to change the last section of my speech.”

 

I WENT UPSTAIRS TO GET DRESSED FOR THE ANNOUNCEMENT
press conference. Dina, looking beautiful and dignified as always, sat on a
sofa in the formal living room. I sat beside her and we prayed together. I had found the small pile of prayer cards my grandmother used to send me when I was in college. I read them aloud, the first time I'd prayed—really prayed—in years.

This was going to be the most difficult moment of my life. But I had brought it on myself. I knew it was also her most trying time, though she was utterly innocent. I prayed for her to get through it, and for time to heal her humiliation and to erase the shame.

I decided to stay in office until mid-November, ensuring an orderly transition for Dick Codey, the Senate president, who would take over as acting governor according to the constitutional order of succession. This drew yelps from Republicans, who thought it was an underhanded way to avoid the special election law, which called for general balloting if the governor steps down with more than sixty days remaining to the term. Honestly, this never occurred to me. Nobody even mentioned the special election law until much later.

The truth was simpler than that. I worried about Dina. I knew that when we left Drumthwacket, we would move to separate residences, and I felt it would be best for us to make the transition as slowly as possible, within reason.

That afternoon, minutes before walking into the press conference, Golan's legal team made one last contact with Ray. They advanced a new, peculiar demand: $2 million and a charter for New York's Touro College to open a medical school campus in the state. It was the strangest turn of events yet: I knew Golan had his own ties to Touro. For a short time he'd even worked as a consultant for the school, though that was over a year ago. But that couldn't possibly explain this bizarre demand.

The conspiracy-mongers within our ranks all tried piecing together an explanation, but none of them made sense. Charlie Kushner was a longtime Touro booster and board member—the new medical school was to be named for his mother. Could he be involved in this, my staff wondered? Did Timothy Saia or Lowy have any business with Touro? Even Torricelli was mentioned; Touro had contracted with his lobbying firm to gain state approval for the new campus. Could this be his answer to the Twelve Days' War? None of it added up, but I couldn't spare an ounce of energy to think
about it; I was worried about my wife and my daughter, about where we would live and what would happen next.

I decided to ignore Golan's new demand and go ahead with my resignation as scheduled. Members of my staff were crying uncontrollably as I entered the statehouse, holding Dina by the hand. Accompanying me that day was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, but she was the picture of composure in a crisp blue suit and a broad, guarded smile. We took our place on the dais before a hundred microphones, next to my unhappy parents.

I thought I would be queasy, racing through my resignation in a blur of words. But an easy silence fell on my mind and everything seemed to stand still as I laid my notes on the lectern, as if nothing mattered in the world besides this moment.

 

“THROUGHOUT MY LIFE,” I BEGAN, “I HAVE GRAPPLED WITH MY
own identity, who I am. As a young child, I felt ambivalent about myself. Confused. By virtue of my traditions and community, I worked to ensure that I was accepted as a part of traditional family life in America. I married Kari out of love and respect, and we have a wonderful daughter. But Kari ultimately chose to move back to British Columbia.

“I then married Dina, whose participation in political life—whose joy—has been a source of strength to me. Yet from my early days in high school and even grammar school to the present day, I acknowledge some feelings, some sense that did not put me on a level with other children in the neighborhood. And because of my resolve, and also thinking I was doing the right thing, I forced an acceptable reality onto myself. A reality which is layered and layered with all the, quote, good things and all the, quote, right things of typical adolescent and adult behavior.

“Yet at the most reflective and maybe even spiritual level, there were points in my life when I began to question what an acceptable reality really meant for me. Were there realities from which I was running? Which master was I trying to serve? I do not believe that God tortures any person simply for its own sake. I believe that God enables all things to work for the greater good.

“And this, the forty-seventh year of my life, is arguably too late to have this discussion, but it is here and it is now. At some point in every person's life, one has to look deeply into the mirror of one's soul and decide one's unique truth in the world, not as we may want to see it or hope to see it, but as it is. And so my truth is that I am a gay American. And I am blessed to live in a country with the greatest tradition of civil liberties in the world, in a country that provides so much to its people.

“Yet because of the pain and suffering and anguish that I have caused to my beloved family, my parents, my wife, my friends, I would almost rather have this moment pass. For this is an intensely personal decision, and not one typically for the public domain. Yet, it cannot and should not pass.

“I am also here today because, shamefully, I engaged in an adult consensual affair with another man, which violates my bonds of matrimony. It was wrong. It was foolish. It was inexcusable. And for this, I ask the forgiveness and the grace of my wife. She has been extraordinary throughout this ordeal, and I am blessed by virtue of her love and strength.

“I realize the fact of this affair and my own sexuality, if kept secret, leaves me, and most importantly the governor's office, vulnerable to rumors, false allegations and threats of disclosure. So I am removing these threats by telling you directly about my sexuality. Let me be clear, I accept total and full responsibility for my actions. However, I'm required now to do what is right to correct the consequences of my actions and to be truthful to my loved ones, to my friends and my family and also to myself.

“It makes little difference that as governor I am gay. In fact, having the ability to truthfully set forth my identity might have enabled me to be more forthright in fulfilling and discharging my constitutional obligations.

“Given the circumstances surrounding the affair and its likely impact upon my family and my ability to govern, I have decided the right course of action is to resign. To facilitate a responsible transition, my resignation will be effective on November 15 of this year. I am very proud of the things we have accomplished during my administration, and I want to thank humbly the citizens of the state of New Jersey for the privilege to govern.”