Bloomberg Missed His Lindsay Moment

It was 1968.  Martin Luther King was assassinated, and cities across America erupted with violence.  But not in New York City, where a Republican mayor, John Lindsay, walked the streets of African-American neighborhoods, asking the understandably angry residents to respect the principles of non-violence that Dr. King had advocated with his words, his deeds and, ultimately, his life.

Which brings to the subject of New York's current mayor, Michael Bloomberg, and his post-midnight raid on the Occupy Wall Street camp in Zuccotti Park.

We live in an age in which the word "fascist" is lightly used.  But that cannot and should not be the case here.  Not when armed police officers attack unarmed protesters.

We live in an age in which the word "Nazi" is employed as a casual political insult.  But, in this case, it hardly seems like a stretch to use that label.  Not when books are destroyed by agents of the state.

I leave it to Keith Olbermann to fully characterize the personal vileness of the Mayor, and his misuse of New York's Finest, here.  But what is as tragic as anything about all of this is that Bloomberg had a Lindsay moment with the Zuccotti Park occupation.   And he blew it.

Imagine, for a moment, Bloomberg humbling himself long enough to go down to Zuccotti Park himself, and speak to the demonstrators about their concerns.  Imagine him negotiating with them to give them and their views a forum that would allow their concerns to be heard, and perhaps even acted upon.  Imagine him setting up a series of town meetings in which the protesters could have engaged in a dialogue with New Yorkers from all walks of live, allowing for a mutual exchange of ideas and influence--a dialogue that, taking place in America's largest city, that could have had a constructive influence all over the country, and perhaps even in the partisan bunker known as Washington, D.C..

In other words, imagine him, for a moment, acting the way a truly great Republican acted on a hot day in 1968, when his city could have become another volcano of rage, and didn't, because he had the courage to believe in the things for which Martin Luther King was martyred.

Imagine ... imagine ... imagine.  Just as an adopted New Yorker who was taken from us by violence once invited us to do.

Mr. Lennon, some of us are still trying to imagine.  But in the case of the Big Apple's current "leader," he hasn't even bothered to try.  The only saving grace in that failure is the fact that it may have written the epitaph for an age of venality masquerading as patriotism.