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For Gioia's admirers and detractors alike, it was a moment to savor. There was Eric Gioia, the articulate spokesman for the little guy, standing up to a bungling big business being defended by the wealthy mayor. Or, there was Eric Gioia, the unabashed publicity hound, chasing headlines and flashbulbs with over-earnest sound bites.
This September, Democratic primary voters will decide whether either Eric Gioia the crusader or Eric Gioia the publicity addict—or some combination of both—ought to become the city's next public advocate. In the most recent Marist Poll, Gioia is running last in the field of four, which includes fellow Councilman Bill de Blasio (whom City Limits profiled here), former public advocate Mark Green and civil liberties lawyer Norman Siegel. But Gioia has already raised more money than any public advocate candidate in history and says he is putting together an unprecedented volunteer network to win what many predict will be a low-turnout primary.
"Part of what I believe is if you engage people, you can—block by block—change the city," the 36-year-old candidate explained in mid-May at a coffee shop in Long Island City, a neighborhood he represents along with Astoria, Maspeth, Sunnyside and Woodside in City Council. "The overarching idea is getting people to believe again that government can do better."
The public advocate, an office unique to New York City, is technically the number two citywide official, meaning he or she takes over if the mayoralty is vacated. But the office's true purpose is to collect citizen complaints, investigate city agencies and offset the power of the executive branch in New York's strong-mayor system. It's a vague set of duties on which each 2009 candidate is putting his own spin. Gioia's take is that the public advocate ought to be an arbiter of social justice. "The job of public advocate is to find people who need somebody on their side and stick up for them any way you can," he says. "And not just to yell and scream, but to deliver measurable achievements."
Ambitious climb
He comes to the job, he says, from his own working-class background – witnessing the struggles of his parents, who ran a flower shop in Woodside, not having health insurance as a kid, working his way through New York University as a janitor, nearly flunking out, and then working through Georgetown Law. He clerked in the White House deputy counsel's office, and after passing the bar practiced law at the Manhattan firm of Milbank Tweed Hadley McCoy. Then he ran for the City Council's 26th District seat, which was also being sought by four other men—one of whom, Matthew Farrell, had the support of the Queens County Democratic organization.
