It didn’t take long for the assault on local governments to start in Albany this year — not that it has ever truly ended. Gov. Andrew Cuomo’s out-of-touch executive-budget proposal eliminates crucial state funding that will hurt towns and villages. State money that localities have relied upon for years — called Aid to Municipalities (AIM) — will be reduced or taken away from nearly 90 percent of New York’s towns and villages.

 As a former town supervisor, I know how tough this is going to be on local officials and their budgets. Their annual spending plans are already in place. Programs and services need to be funded. AIM funding has been consistently available without interruption for years with no increase. By cutting this funding stream by $59 million, the governor has basically pulled the rug out from under towns and villages, which are now left scrambling to find answers — and money.

Local budgets now facing added stress

 If enacted, this will have real-world implications in communities across New York. The loss of state resources directly impacts the services a locality can provide. Roads may not get paved. Staff may face layoffs. Planned upgrades to parks, bridges, and equipment may be delayed or eliminated.

 This proposal is insulting and represents the second part of a financial 1-2 punch from Albany. Local governments already face tremendous burdens from New York State in the form of unfunded mandates — the true driver of our outrageous property taxes. Albany passes it, localities must pay for it, and our taxes go up. 

 On the first day of legislative activity for 2019, Albany wasted no time in forcing more costs on municipalities without providing any financial assistance. With the passage of election-reform bills, local governments now have a new program to install — with no financial help from the state. The Assembly Minority Conference offered a measure that would require the state to pay the local costs, but the Assembly Majority Conference rejected the common-sense proposal.

Budget priorities misplaced

There is no shortage of irony associated with the governor’s treatment of towns and villages as a result of this proposal. The loss of AIM funding will hurt; even the reduction of a few thousand dollars will be felt. But as localities now scratch and claw to make their budgets whole, roughly $3 billion in taxpayer-funded incentives will be handed to Amazon, and its CEO Jeff Bezos, the richest man in the word.

 In addition, Gov. Cuomo likes to complain about the federal government’s “assault” on the state. Yet, he seems to be comfortable taking advantage of the local governments within his jurisdiction, offering no relief for existing mandates and, now, eliminating relied-upon funding streams. It’s the definition of hypocrisy. The Assembly Minority Conference will continue to fight against this unnecessary attack on local governments before they crack under this immense downward pressure.         

Brian M. Kolb (R,I,C–Canandaigua), a former small-business owner, is the New York Assembly Minority Leader and represents the 131st Assembly District, which encompasses all of Ontario County and parts of Seneca County. Contact him at kolbb@nyassembly.gov

Over a lifetime in politics, I have met a lot of interesting, impressive politicians. But those I truly admired were men and women who were adept at the arts both of politics and legislating — a rarer combination of talents than you’d hope for in our representative democracy. They’re a reminder these days of what consummate skill looks like.

 For instance, Wilbur Mills, a Democrat from Arkansas who chaired the House Ways and Means Committee, was a master of legislative detail. When he brought changes to the tax law to the floor, members of the House of both parties would simply ask him questions, rather than challenge him, because his grasp of the Internal Revenue Code was so overwhelming. When Mills was on the floor, it was never really an equal debate.

 The same held for Jim Wright of Texas and Hale Boggs of Louisiana, also both Democrats. They were great orators with vibrant, unique voices that drew audiences to the House floor and galleries simply to hear them. They seldom referred to notes, but I suspect they practiced — the chuckle in the right place, the extended pause at the perfect moment. They were masters at using humor as an effective weapon to counter an opponent and deflect critics.

 Edith Green, a Democrat from Oregon, served 10 terms in the House from the mid-’50s to the mid-’70s. She specialized in education and was a potent force behind Title IX, the 1972 law that did so much to end sex discrimination in education. Green, too, was a highly effective debater, who did not back down from a fight she chose to wage — but who also had a keen sense of when the time was right to wage it. She paved the way for many talented women who followed her to Congress.

 Charlie Halleck of Indiana and H.R. Gross of Iowa, both Republicans, were parliamentary masters. I often saw them block or delay measures I personally supported, and had to admire their skill at stalling, slowing down, or just plain defeating legislation by the adroit use of just the right parliamentary maneuver.

 Meanwhile, John Anderson of Illinois served as the principal Republican voice at a time when the GOP was in the minority. He was a powerful debater, took delight in verbal combat, and was often the lone voice against an onslaught of speakers from the majority party. He spoke forcefully, and out of a genuinely deep devotion to the nation that made plain his ideals.

 You couldn’t call Tip O’Neill, the legendary Speaker of the House from Massachusetts, a great orator. But he was a truly great politician. He had a knack for putting people at ease, calming tensions, and softening debates. He made everyone in the room feel as though they were all in it together — whatever the “it” was that O’Neill was focused on.

Mike Mansfield, the Senate majority leader from Montana, had similar gifts. He was easily the most popular man in Congress during the years he served. He was decent, humble, fair-minded, and he spread credit to everyone around him while taking none for himself. He had a bedrock integrity about him and knew how to use his consummate personal skills to make the process work — even dealing with the difficult egos you could find in the Senate.

 I routinely watched Senators Hubert Humphrey, a Democrat from Minnesota, and Jacob Javits, a Republican from New York, come into a meeting, quickly grasp the issues, speak to them forcefully and right to the point, and then move on to their next meeting — on an entirely different issue — and give the same performance. Their ability to jump from agriculture to nuclear proliferation to health care to education — all in the course of a few hours — was astounding.

 Finally, Speaker Carl Albert of Oklahoma somehow managed to unite both northeastern liberals and southern conservatives in his party. They were opposed to one another in ideology and culture, yet Albert often reconciled the irreconcilable with grace and insight. He spent hours listening patiently to people, trying to understand their points of view, patch things up, and find even the tiniest plot of ground for consensus.

 Next column: What they all had in common.       

Lee Hamilton is a senior advisor for the Indiana University (IU) Center on Representative Government, distinguished scholar at the IU School of Global and International Studies, and professor of practice at the IU School of Public and Environmental Affairs. Hamilton, a Democrat, was a member of the U.S. House of Representatives for 34 years, representing a district in south central Indiana.