New York
When Carter Went to the Bronx
Good morning. It’s Thursday. Today, on a national day of mourning for former President Jimmy Carter, we’ll look at Carter’s relationship to New York. We’ll also get details on the decision by the city’s Board of Elections not to fire its executive director after investigators found that he had harassed two female employees.
President Jimmy Carter flew to New York in October 1977 to tell the United Nations General Assembly that he was “willing” to shrink the United States’ nuclear arsenal if the Soviet Union matched the reductions. The next day, he did something unannounced, unexpected and unrelated to foreign policy.
He went to the South Bronx.
It was a symbolic side trip to show that he was willing to face urban problems. Leaders like Vernon Jordan of the National Urban League had already begun to talk about dashed expectations: “We expected Carter to be working as hard to meet the needs of the poor as he did to get our votes,” Jordan had said a couple of months earlier. “But so far, we have been disappointed.”
Carter, a Democrat, wasn’t satisfied with driving through neighborhoods dominated by desolation and despair. “Let me walk about a block,” he told the Secret Service agents accompanying him, and he got out of the limousine.
That morning in the South Bronx became an enduring memory of his presidency. But there are other New York memories to remember today, a national day of mourning for Carter, who died on Dec. 29.
There was the high of his nomination in 1976, at the first national political convention held in Manhattan since the Roaring Twenties.
There was also the not-so-high of his nomination in the same place four years later, when haplessness seemed to reign: The teleprompter malfunctioned during his acceptance speech. He flubbed a line about former Vice President Hubert Horatio Humphrey, calling him “Hubert Horatio Hornblower.” The balloons didn’t tumble from the ceiling when they were supposed to. And his long feud with Senator Edward Kennedy simmered on.
Another New York memory now seems as improbable as Carter’s candidacy had once been: a high-kicking photo op with the Radio City Rockettes in 1973. Carter, then a Georgia governor who had taught Sunday school, hammed it up with dancers who showed a lot of leg. (The governor, joining the kick line in his crisp suit, did not.)
Carter was an ambitious Navy lieutenant turned peanut farmer turned politician, and he understood what New York could do for him. The Carter biographer Jonathan Alter wrote that the publicity stunt with the Rockettes helped bring him name recognition, as did a full-page ad in Variety that showed him in a director’s chair. The ad, and that trip to New York, promoted a push to lure filmmaking to Georgia.
By the time Carter went to the South Bronx, 10 months into his presidency, New York was struggling to pull out of its “Ford to City: Drop Dead” abyss. But whatever hope Carter seemed to bring soon faded: A week later, during a World Series game at Yankee Stadium, the sportscaster Howard Cosell supposedly said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Bronx is burning.”
“Somehow that sentence entered the language, though he never said that, or exactly that,” Ian Frazier explained in his book “Paradise Bronx.” “In any case, it’s what people remember.”
People yelled “Give us money!” and “We want jobs!” as Carter went by. On one ruined block, “he stood looking around, his expression blank and dazed,” Frazier wrote. “For a president to allow himself to be seen when he appears so overwhelmed required self-sacrifice and moral fortitude.”
With him was Mayor Abraham Beame, a lame duck — but not Representative Ed Koch, who had defeated Beame in the Democratic primary and would be elected mayor in November. The president and the mayor-in-waiting were feuding over Middle East policy.
Back at his hotel, Carter called it “a very sobering trip.” And as Frazier noted, the drive-by made America look at “this place that most had been looking away from.”
Politicians stopped looking away: The stretch of Charlotte Street that he visited became a stop on campaign after campaign. “Reagan went there in 1980 to try to show up Carter,” Alter said. But the policy Carter pushed for in response to the poverty he saw — changes that effectively forced banks to provide home loans in low-income neighborhoods — worked, Alter said. “It just took a while.”
A few years later, there were more than 100 suburban-style houses in the neighborhood Carter walked through. Today the houses are worth roughly $750,000 apiece, according to the real estate website Trulia.
“He cared about people — he wanted to help people,” Alter said. “Jimmy Carter was a rural Georgian, but he had a lot of empathy for New Yorkers who needed a break.”
Weather
Today will be mostly sunny and breezy with a high near 34 degrees. Tonight, expect a mostly clear sky, strong winds and a low near 26.
ALTERNATE-SIDE PARKING
In effect until Jan. 20 (Martin Luther King’s Birthday).
The latest New York news
City election board opted not to fire an official who harassed female workers
The New York City Board of Elections — which is responsible for registering voters, repairing voting machines and tallying ballots — refused to dismiss its top official after he harassed two female employees, according to a report released by the city’s Department of Investigation.
Investigators found that the board’s executive director, Michael Ryan, had “created a hostile work environment for these two employees” in violation of the board’s own policies. The investigation department added that those policies had “serious deficiencies” that limited the board’s ability “to effectively prevent and address workplace misconduct and harassment.”
The board released a statement defending its decision not to fire Ryan, who was suspended for three weeks without pay and ordered to attend sensitivity training. The board’s statement quoted Ryan as apologizing for his actions.
“While I dispute these allegations and disagree with the report’s conclusion,” he said, “I accept the determination of the commissioners” to suspend him as being “in the best interest of the agency.”
According to the report from the investigation department, Ryan made a series of sexual comments to one female employee over several months, some of which were accompanied by physical gestures such as puckering his lips at her or touching her face with his hand.
He also engaged in a conversation with Michael Corbett, the board’s administrative manager, in the presence of the woman about what the best age gap might be in a heterosexual relationship. The two men determined that the age difference between her and Ryan would not be a problem, investigators said.
Investigators said that Ryan’s conduct had caused the woman “significant anxiety and emotional distress,” which figured in her decision to leave her job.
Investigators also found that Ryan had made “ethnicity- and gender-based comments toward” a second female employee, including some that trafficked in racial stereotypes.
Corbett was also suspended for one week, placed on probation for one year and ordered to attend sensitivity training.
Rodney Pepe-Souvenir, the president of the board of commissioners that oversees the agency, and Frederic Umane, its secretary, said in the statement released on Wednesday that they believed the penalties Ryan was given “sent a strong message that these types of unwelcomed and insensitive comments will not be tolerated by anyone” at the Board of Elections.
METROPOLITAN diary
In the bag
Dear Diary:
I was waiting in line to pick up a prescription at a crowded Duane Reade. An older woman who was clearly exhausted left the line to sit down in a nearby chair.
When it was her turn to get her prescription, she stood up, left her belongings on the chair and went to the counter.
While waiting for the pharmacist, she turned and looked at the man who was sitting next to where she had been.
“You know what’s in that bag?” she asked, motioning toward her stuff.
The man shook his head.
“My husband,” she said. “He died last week, and I have his remains in there.”
— Brad Rothschild
Illustrated by Agnes Lee. Send submissions here and read more Metropolitan Diary here.
Glad we could get together here. See you tomorrow. — J.B.
P.S. Here’s today’s Mini Crossword and Spelling Bee. You can find all our puzzles here.
New York
Read the Indictment Against Nicolás Maduro
intentionally and knowingly combined, conspired, confederated, and agreed together and with each other to violate Title 18, United States Code, Section 924(c).
35. It was a part and an object of the conspiracy that NICOLÁS MADURO MOROS, DIOSDADO CABELLO RONDÓN, RAMÓN RODRÍGUEZ CHACÍN, CILIA ADELA FLORES DE MADURO, NICOLÁS ERNESTO MADURO GUERRA, a/k/a “Nicolasito,” a/k/a “The Prince,” and HECTOR RUSTHENFORD GUERRERO FLORES, a/k/a “Niño Guerrero,” the defendants, and others known and unknown, during and in relation to a drug trafficking crime for which they may be prosecuted in a court of the United States, to wit, for MADURO MOROS, CABELLO RONDÓN, and RODRÍGUEZ CHACÍN, the controlled substance offenses charged in Counts One and Two of this Superseding Indictment, and for FLORES DE MADURO, MADURO GUERRA, and GUERRERO FLORES, the controlled substance offense charged in Count Two of this Superseding Indictment, knowingly used and carried firearms, and, in furtherance of such crimes, knowingly possessed firearms, and aided and abetted the use, carrying, and possession of firearms, to wit, machineguns that were capable of automatically shooting more than one shot, without manual reloading, by a single function of the trigger, as well as destructive devices, in violation of Title 18, United States Code, Sections 924(c)(1)(A) and 924(c)(1)(B)(ii). (Title 18, United States Code, Sections 924(o) and 3238.)
36.
FORFEITURE ALLEGATIONS
As a result of committing the controlled substance offense charged in Count One of this Superseding Indictment, NICOLÁS MADURO MOROS, DIOSDADO CABELLO RONDÓN, RAMÓN RODRÍGUEZ CHACÍN, the defendants, shall forfeit to the United States, pursuant to Title 21, United States Code, Sections 853 and 970, any and all property constituting, or derived from, any proceeds the defendants obtained, directly or indirectly, as a result of the offenses, and any and all property used, or intended to be used, in any manner or part, to commit,
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New York
Video: New York City Hit With Heaviest Snowfall in Years
new video loaded: New York City Hit With Heaviest Snowfall in Years
transcript
transcript
New York City Hit With Heaviest Snowfall in Years
A winter storm blanketed the Greater New York area, leading to more than 400 flight cancellations across the region’s major airports. Parts of Long Island saw up to nine inches of snow.
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I think it was absolutely beautiful. We’re from North Carolina, so it was great to come up to New York and see the snow.
By Jorge Mitssunaga
December 27, 2025
New York
Vote For the Best Metropolitan Diary Entry of 2025
Every week since 1976, Metropolitan Diary has published stories by, and for, New Yorkers of all ages and eras (no matter where they live now): anecdotes and memories, quirky encounters and overheard snippets that reveal the city’s spirit and heart.
For the past four years, we’ve asked for your help picking the best Diary entry of the year. Now we’re asking again.
We’ve narrowed the field to the five finalists here. Read them and vote for your favorite. The author of the item that gets the most votes will receive a print of the illustration that accompanied it, signed by the artist, Agnes Lee.
The voting closes at 11:59 p.m. on Sunday, Dec. 21. You can change your vote as many times as you’d like until then, but you may only pick one. Choose wisely.
Click “VOTE” to choose your favorite Metropolitan Diary entry of 2025, and come back on Sunday, Dec. 28, to see which one our readers picked as their favorite.
Click “VOTE” to choose your favorite Metropolitan Diary entry of 2025, and come back on Sunday, Dec. 28, to see which one our readers picked as their favorite.
Two Stops
Dear Diary:
It was a drizzly June night in 2001. I was a young magazine editor and had just enjoyed what I thought was a very blissful second date — dinner, drinks, fabulous conversation — with our technology consultant at a restaurant in Manhattan.
I lived in Williamsburg at the time, and my date lived near Murray Hill, so we grabbed a cab and headed south on Second Avenue.
“Just let me out here,” my date said to the cabby at the corner of 25th Street.
We said our goodbyes, quick and shy, knowing that we would see each other at work the next day. I was giddy and probably grinning with happiness and hope.
“Oh boy,” the cabby said, shaking his head as we drove toward Brooklyn. “Very bad.”
“What do you mean?” I asked in horror.
“He doesn’t want you to know exactly where he lives,” the cabby said. “Not a good sign.”
I spent the rest of the cab ride in shock, revisiting every moment of the date.
Happily, it turned out that my instinct about it being a great date was right, and the cabby was wrong. Twenty-four years later, my date that night is my husband, and I know that if your stop is first, it’s polite to get out so the cab can continue in a straight line to the next stop.
Ferry Farewell
Dear Diary:
On a February afternoon, I met my cousins at the Staten Island Ferry Terminal. Their spouses and several of our very-grown children were there too. I brought Prosecco, a candle, a small speaker to play music, photos and a poem.
We were there to recreate the wedding cruise of my mother, Monica, and my stepfather, Peter. They had gotten married at City Hall in August 1984. She was 61, and he, 71. It was her first marriage, and his fourth.
I was my mother’s witness that day. It was a late-in-life love story, and they were very happy. Peter died in 1996, at 82. My mother died last year. She was 100.
Peter’s ashes had waited a long time, but finally they were mingled with Monica’s. The two of them would ride the ferry a last time and then swirl together in the harbor forever. Cue the candles, bubbly, bagpipes and poems.
Two ferry workers approached us. We knew we were in trouble: Open containers and open flames were not allowed on the ferry.
My cousin’s husband, whispering, told the workers what we were doing and said we would be finished soon.
They walked off, and then returned. They said they had spoken to the captain, and they ushered us to the stern for some privacy. As the cup of ashes flew into the water, the ferry horn sounded two long blasts.
Unacceptable
Dear Diary:
I went to a new bagel store in Brooklyn Heights with my son.
When it was my turn to order, I asked for a cinnamon raisin bagel with whitefish salad and a slice of red onion.
The man behind the counter looked up at me.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do that.”
Teresa
Dear Diary:
It was February 2013. With a foot of snow expected, I left work early and drove from New Jersey warily as my wipers squeaked and snow and ice stuck to my windows.
I drove east on the Cross Bronx Expressway, which was tied up worse than usual. Trucks groaned on either side of my rattling Toyota. My fingers were cold. My toes were colder. Got to get home before it really comes down, I thought to myself.
By the time I got home to my little red bungalow a stone’s throw from the Throgs Neck Bridge, the snow was already up to my ankles.
Inside, I took off my gloves, hat, scarf, coat, sweater, pants and snow boots. The bed, still unmade, was inviting me. But first, I checked my messages.
There was one from Teresa, the 92-year-old widow on the corner.
“Call me,” she said, sounding desperate.
I looked toward the warm bed, but … Teresa. There was a storm outside, and she was alone.
On went the pants, the sweater, the coat, the scarf, the boots and the gloves, and then I went out the door.
The snow was six inches deep on the sidewalks, so I tottered on tire tracks in the middle of the street. The wind stung my face. When I got to the end of the block, I pounded on her door.
“Teresa!” I called. No answer. “Teresa!” I called again. I heard the TV blaring. Was she sprawled on the floor?
I went next door and called for Kathy.
“Teresa can’t answer the door,” I said. “Probably fell.”
Kathy had a key. In the corner of her neat living room, Teresa, in pink sweatpants and sweaters, was sitting curled in her armchair, head bent down and The Daily News in her lap.
I snapped off the TV.
Startled, she looked up.
“Kathy! Neal!” she said. “What’s a five-letter word for cabbage?”
Nice Place
Dear Diary:
When I lived in Park Slope over 20 years ago, I once had to call an ambulance because of a sudden, violent case of food poisoning.
Two paramedics, a man and a woman, entered our third-floor walk-up with a portable chair. Strapping me in, the male medic quickly inserted an IV line into my arm.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his partner circling around and admiring the apartment.
“Nice place you’ve got here.” she said. “Do you own it?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, all but unconscious.
Once I was in the ambulance, she returned to her line of inquiry.
“Do you mind me asking how much you paid for your apartment?”
“$155,000,” I croaked.
“Wow! You must have bought during the recession.”
“Yeah” I said.
They dropped me off at Methodist Hospital, where I was tended to by a nurse as I struggled to stay lucid.
At some point, the same medic poked her head into the room with one last question:
“You wouldn’t be wanting to sell any time soon, would you?”
Illustrations by Agnes Lee.
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