Photo copyright © 2026 by Gerry O’Brien
In December of 1983, my buddy Larry Penner asked if I could join him and his boss, Al DelliBovi, at New York City Hall to take some photos. Al was Regional Administrator of what was then known as the Urban Mass Transit Administration (UMTA), and Larry was his Deputy.
Their boss, the newly appointed National Administrator of the agency, Ralph Stanley, had a quick meet and greet scheduled with Mayor Koch, and they needed photos, so I agreed to join them at City Hall.
Here’s the fun part.
A year earlier, I defeated the incumbent in an upset Primary to become the State Committeeman and District Leader of Brooklyn’s 51st Assembly District. Being the local Party leader was an unpaid and often thankless job, and few ever made headlines and none got television or daily newspaper coverage — especially leaders of the minority party.
About three weeks before the photo session, a state judge ruled that Riker’s Island Jail was overcrowded, and summarily ordered Mayor Koch to release 1,000 prisoners. Koch’s response was to order inmates moved to floating prison barges on the East River. He also announced that he would use his authority to convert several privately owned sites around the city to new jails, including a former state arsenal in Brooklyn that had been converted to one of the early self storage locations that are so popular today.
This self storage facility was about a block from the southern end of the 51st Assembly District, and besides eliminating a number of private sector jobs, local residents were aghast that a jail was about to open in their quiet little neighborhood.
I immediately arranged to rent (at my own expense) the auditorium of what was then known as Bay Ridge High School for a neighborhood rally, set for about 10 days down the road. I created and distributed flyers at subway stations, supermarkets, placed posters in local store windows, and mailed an inexpensive post card to a few hundred constituents of mine who lived around the proposed jail site.
Local political and elected officials in both parties helped publicize the jail issue for their own purposes (as did I), and local newspapers promoted my event.
In advance of the rally, I sent an old fashioned Western Union Telegram to Mayor Koch (thinking it would stand out more than a postal letter), inviting him to attend. I had little hope he would come, as the crowd wouldn’t be the friendliest. And sure enough, a few hours before the rally I got a personal phone call from John LoCicero (remember that name), Koch’s chief of staff and closest confidant. He told me the Mayor would not be able to attend, joking about the warm welcome he would have received.
The rally was an amazing success. A crowd of over 1,300 neighborhood residents filled the auditorium and spilled out into the street. And in the days before 24-hour cable television, five different local TV news teams showed up, along with two of the city’s three daily newspapers, and reporters from various radio stations. I welcomed the crowd, introduced Congressman Guy Molinari, a state senator, a couple of assemblymen and councilmen, and various civic leaders and local residents to speak. I made the case against this particular site for a jail. Two TV stations showed a split screen with recorded tape of Mayor Koch on one side, and me live on the other. Not a bad night for a 25 year old political leader.
A week later, I came up with a plan to have a group of neighbors descend on Gracie Mansion, the Mayor’s residence, where we marched around a coffin (with signs that read Jail = Death of Bay Ridge). On cue, my buddy Pat Kinsella, dressed in a striped prison uniform, jumped out of the coffin, holding up a sign that asked, “How’m I doing?” (Koch’s catch phrase). We also presented TV cameras with a six foot long postcard, containing a message from neighbors for Mayor Koch, criticizing the jail plan. This time, Koch came out to greet Congressman Molinari on camera, with me at his side. Despite organizing this and the earlier event, I didn’t actually get introduced to the Mayor (Guy was like that), but with even more coverage across the spectrum on television, radio, and daily newspapers, I didn’t mind. Hell, the Daily News reported the event unfolded with “theatrical flair.”
The very next afternoon, Mayor Koch canceled the proposed Jail at the self storage site. We won.
The day after that was when my buddy asked me to come down to City Hall and photograph his bosses with the Mayor.
We were ushered into the Mayor’s private office, and I blended into the background while I took shots of Al and Ralph sitting with Koch, shaking hands with him, etc. As the photographer, I was there anonymously, and never introduced (nor did I expect to be). But while shooting the photos, I noticed Koch occasionally glancing at me with a puzzled look on his face, not sure where he knew me from.
In less than 15 minutes, the meeting was over, and I followed my clients out the Mayor’s office door. At that instant, John LoCicero, Koch’s chief of staff (whom I had spoken to once, but never met) stepped out of the office adjoining the Mayor’s, nearly colliding with me.
I immediately stuck out my hand, shook his, introduced myself, telling LoCicero that the Mayor made the right call on the Bay Ridge Jail.
LoCicero looked up at me, dumbfounded.
“Huh? Right. Yes. Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, and I walked away. He stood there looking more than a bit confused about how I got in to see the Mayor.
I can only imagine the exchange he and Koch had a minute later.
