As Governor Andrew Cuomo makes preparations for the new year, Bruce Roter continues working on celebrating a different side of politics by means of a proposed museum.
On a cold, December afternoon, Roter sits in a local café across the street from the College of St. Rose, where he is a professor. Over a cup of coffee he discusses what he sees as an education center for children to learn to serve the public, and for citizens to resolve the pressing issue of political corruption – with humor.
Our unofficial motto is ‘It’s funny, but it’s serious,’” said Roter. “So, truly I would like to use political satire and tongue-in-cheek humor to draw people into this museum, which I think they will find entertaining. But at the same point, there’s a serious message. I really want them to learn political corruption, the history of New York State, and I want the public to help with solutions to this problem as well.”
The Museum of Corruption is Roter’s brainchild, one that currently exists only in the recesses of his imagination.
Since perusing the idea a few years ago, the St. Rose professor has captured a modest following through social media, many of whom are members of the press and public relation firms in the Capital District. His Twitter feed is updated on a near daily basis. While school is out, the tweets rack up hourly – all to readers accustom to the inner workings of Albany’s political machine.
Plan of attack
“Mission Statement: The Albany Museum of Political Corruption is established to combat political corruption through education and, through the use of humor, hold corrupt officials and practices up to public ridicule,” states Roter on a Facebook page devoted to his project. “As a world-class tourist destination, the Albany Museum of Political Corruption is also established to serve the residents of Albany who have endured unjustly the name of their city being associated with political corruption.”
Roter envisions a two-floor layout, with rooms covering every facet of corruption. Looking over a mock-up on his glossy, tri-fold brochure, he points out the many rooms. On the second floor, there is the Hall of Campaign Finance Reform, which leads out to the Hall of Graft, Bribery and Kickbacks, and History of Corruption in New York. Other rooms are to address the media, constituents, and nepotism. There is even a “Cozy Crony Café” for the Old Boys’ Club. And for the children, a maze dubbed “Obstruction of Justice Hall.”
“For those who believe this is going to be a politician bashing venue, I don’t want that to be the case at all,” said Roter.
On the first floor, between the Hall of Shame and Hall of Honor is the Tammany Lecture Hall, which Roter hopes to invite politicians of all parties to speak to patrons.
“Perhaps even fallen political leaders who got into trouble of some sort. Perhaps they’ll want to find a route to redemption by giving lectures. And say, look, these are the traps I fell into. And, for the young legislators across the street at the Capitol Building, I advise you not to get into these traps, said Roter.”
The name references New York City’s Democratic political machine whose dominance was prominent from 1854 to 1934, most notably under the leadership of William “Boss” Tweed. As populations boomed throughout the country from the mid-1800s into the 1900s, political machines wielded their absolute influence in cities like Boston, Chicago, and Philadelphia.
Public servant
Roter’s name may be familiar to many who frequent the Trader Joe grocery store in Colonie. Roter and his family moved to the Albany-area about 15-years ago, after a short stint on the West Coast city of Portland, Ore. Portland has eight Trader Joe’s stores, and at the time, Albany had none. For six years, he presided over the grassroots campaign to bring the grocery chain to the Capital District. It was his first taste at serving a community cause, much like that of a political cause.
“I do also want to make sure that one of the missions of the museum will honor honest public service. When kids, on their school trips, come to this museum, they will want to come out being good public servants as well,” said Roter.
Politics, however, is not the focus of Roter’s chosen career path. Roter is a music professor by trade, and a comedian at heart.
“My student’s tell me I have a dry sense of humor,” he said. “Sometimes they don’t understand my jokes.” When it’s pointed out that his students may not be paying attention, he said, “That’s what they say too.”
The 52-year old educator has an affable personality and is quick with a smile. Polite. Funny. “I tell people I’m from Brooklyn [where he was born] to appear tough,” he said. But, for a political watchdog, he more resembles Danny DeVito than Bob Woodward.
Tongue in cheek
In regards to comedy, Roter said he’s thought about taking the stage. He gives his students extra credit when they laugh at his jokes. But as a political historian, the New York City transplant admits he is not.
The museum’s Facebook page continues to describe its mission “to create a world-class tourist attraction in downtown Albany using something for which Albany is already (and unfairly) associated – political corruption.” However, Albany has a deep rooted history involving corrupted (or efficient) government, depending upon one’s perspective.
When introduced to stories of Dan O’Connell and the political machine run by the South Side Democrat from 1919 to 1977, Roter looks over his floor plan.
“We could put him right there,” he said.
