When Andrew Cuomo appeared before a thinning crowd of supporters Tuesday night to concede the New York City mayoral race, the moment crystallized what months of polling had already suggested: that New York had moved on from the Cuomo era.
It was a humbling conclusion for a politician whose family name has dominated the state’s political landscape for half a century. The former three-term governor, once regarded as one of the most formidable figures in Democratic politics, likely finished his final campaign after a bruising loss to Zohran Mamdani, the millennial socialist whose unabashedly left-wing campaign directly challenged the centrist, status-quo politics that once defined Cuomo’s appeal.
“We have toppled a political dynasty,” Mamdani said in his victory speech. “I wish Andrew Cuomo only the best in private life, but let tonight be the final time I utter his name as we turn the page on a politics that abandons the many and answers only to the few.”
With nearly 90% of votes counted, Mamdani captured just over 50% of the vote to Cuomo’s 42%, according to the Associated Press, installing him as leader of the nation’s largest city and a potentially powerful figure within a party looking for its next act.
Where Cuomo, 67, goes from here is uncertain, but his loss casts doubt on any hopes of a political comeback. Four years after resigning the governorship amid sexual harassment allegations and an impeachment inquiry, his bid for City Hall was widely seen as a test of whether New Yorkers were willing to forgive, or at least to remember him for the infrastructure projects, social programs, and political steadiness that once defined his tenure. Instead, the result underscored how decisively the city has shifted away from the kind of iron-fisted leadership that made Cuomo both feared and formidable. Yet, as he delivered his subdued concession speech, Cuomo suggested the opposite had happened.
“This campaign was to contest the philosophies that are shaping the Democratic Party, the future of this city and the future of this country,” Cuomo said. “This campaign was necessary to make that point—a caution flag that we are heading down a dangerous, dangerous road. Well, we made that point, and they heard us, and we will hold them to it.”
The final act
For nearly fifty years, the Cuomo name has been interwoven with the civic story of New York.
Mario Cuomo, the soaring orator and three-term governor, embodied the liberal conscience of the 1980s. His son Andrew came to define what followed: a politics of technocratic mastery and centralized control, alternately admired for its effectiveness and despised for its ruthlessness. His political career took off in the 1990s after he joined the Clinton Administration, eventually becoming housing secretary. From there, he became state attorney general, and finally a three-term governor.
But when he resigned in 2021 amid sexual harassment allegations—which he continues to deny—Cuomo’s dominance shattered. His mayoral bid, launched in early 2025, was intended as both redemption and restoration. “Experience matters,” he said in his announcement video, pitching himself as the steady hand to guide a city he cast as “in decline.”
At first, the campaign seemed viable. Cuomo led early polls, buoyed by name recognition and a coalition of moderate Democrats uneasy with the party’s leftward drift. But his operation—run largely by longtime aides and consultants—never found a rhythm. Cuomo’s distaste for retail politicking left him isolated, often appearing only in scripted videos or filtered through television ads.
By summer, the race slipped away. Mamdani, running as a democratic socialist, connected with young and working-class voters on affordability and housing, while Cuomo’s message of order and experience felt stale, even nostalgic.
After losing the Democratic primary in June, Cuomo refused to bow out, mounting an independent bid and framing himself as the only bulwark against what he derided as the “death of New York” if his socialist rival prevailed. He courted older voters and Jewish constituencies wary of Mamdani’s criticism of Israel, and was endorsed by billionaires and President Donald Trump, who declared, “Whether you personally like Andrew Cuomo or not, you really have no choice.”
The endorsement did little to help. In the end, even many moderate Democrats could not look past the reasons Cuomo had resigned as governor. Republicans distrusted him as a lifelong Democrat. The coalition he needed never materialized.
A record of power and controversy
To understand Cuomo’s fall is to reckon with the contradictions of his legacy.
He governed New York as a builder and an enforcer, a man equally proud of the bridges he erected and the enemies he crushed. Under his watch, the state opened the Second Avenue Subway, rebuilt LaGuardia Airport, and unveiled the gleaming Moynihan Train Hall. His allies hailed him as a “great builder” in an era when government seemed incapable of doing big things.
But Cuomo’s tenure was also marked by corrosive feuds and questionable priorities. He starved New York’s subway of funds even as delays mounted, driving out transit chief Andy Byford after a string of public clashes. He presided over deep cuts to education funding and the collapse of rental assistance programs that contributed to the city’s homelessness crisis.
His relationship with New York City’s leadership was shaky, and openly hostile in the years Bill de Blasio was mayor, to the point that their rivalry delayed pandemic restrictions in March 2020—a pause that researchers later said cost thousands of lives. Cuomo’s administration also undercounted nursing home deaths, and federal investigators have examined whether he misled Congress about it.
Yet for all the controversies, Cuomo’s defenders point to progressive achievements: marriage equality, a higher minimum wage, gun safety laws, and the passage of congestion pricing after years of resistance. He raised billions for infrastructure and steered the state through natural disasters and fiscal crises.
The end of the Cuomo era
The symbolism of Cuomo’s defeat was not lost on anyone in the ballroom Tuesday night. Nearly five decades earlier, as a teenager, he had worked on his father Mario’s ill-fated 1977 campaign for the same office. That race ended with the elder Cuomo coming in second with 40% of the vote—a number the son invoked in his concession speech with a rueful smile.
“Almost half of New Yorkers did not vote to support a government agenda that makes promises that we know cannot be met,” Cuomo said, before adding, “just higher than when Mario Cuomo got 40% on an independent line against Ed Koch.”
The former governor lingered onstage after the cameras stopped rolling, shaking hands with donors and old friends, the trappings of power slipping away. When a reporter asked what he planned to do next, Cuomo smiled but did not answer.
Outside, Mamdani’s supporters filled the streets—young, jubilant, chanting about housing justice and a new kind of politics. After nearly half a century with Cuomos in positions of power, New York’s Cuomo era is over.
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