N.Y. Loves Koch

A year or so before his triumphant re-election, Ed Koch came to a dinner at the Union League Club hosted by Frank Shakespeare—a gathering of journalistic fry, large (Michael O’Neill, Norman Podhoretz, Malcolm Forbes), and small (me). Under different auspices, it might have gone by the dreadful name of a “dialogue.” We were certainly encouraged to ask questions. In fact, Mayor Koch did 96 per cent of the talking unprompted, all of it on his favorite subject—his job.

Koch is not a small man—easily six feet tall, and broad. When he listens, there is something reserved, almost wary about him. He squints slightly and considers you. But when he talks, he is passionate, animated, engaged. He has a piercing tenor voice, with that rising New York City inflection (nu?), and a fine round barren head with patches of crinkly hair, like sofa stuffing, stuck to the sides.

About the Author

Richard Brookhiser

Historian Richard Brookhiser is a senior editor of National Review and a senior fellow at the National Review Institute.

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A year or so before his triumphant re-election, Ed Koch came to a dinner at the Union League Club hosted by Frank Shakespeare—a gathering of journalistic fry, large (Michael O’Neill, Norman Podhoretz, Malcolm Forbes), and small (me). Under different auspices, it might have gone by the dreadful name of a “dialogue.” We were certainly encouraged to ask questions. In fact, Mayor Koch did 96 per cent of the talking unprompted, all of it on his favorite subject—his job.

Koch is not a small man—easily six feet tall, and broad. When he listens, there is something reserved, almost wary about him. He squints slightly and considers you. But when he talks, he is passionate, animated, engaged. He has a piercing tenor voice, with that rising New York City inflection (nu?), and a fine round barren head with patches of crinkly hair, like sofa stuffing, stuck to the sides.