Growing up, I recall that my grandpa was never a fan of the concept of potential. Potential was for people who weren’t interested in learning (or doing) the job at hand. He worked at a dangerous paper mill in the Florida sun, and the last thing he wanted was someone with potential.
Nearly four years ago, I wrote an opinion essay titled “A Leader Who Defies Easy Political Labeling. Finally,” which detailed why I thought the new mayor at the time, Eric Adams, had potential. Partly it was designed to explain, from the point of view of a Black New Yorker, why he “isn’t easily placed on the traditional left-right spectrum, which has been perplexing to the news media and to many white New Yorkers.” I wanted him to have a chance to find his footing. I wanted the critics gunning for him to forgo assumptions based on his past actions during a long tenure in public service. I was rooting for him. I was optimistic. Or maybe I just saw what I wanted to see.
Sadly, in the end, Mr. Adams met my grandpa’s derisive definition of “potential”: “what you have when you ain’t doing your job.” Worse yet, I fear Mr. Adams’s failures will haunt those who aspire to be the city’s next Black mayor and will penalize Black elected officials generally.
To be fair, the city did not fall apart under Mr. Adams, despite the difficult hand he was dealt. He inherited from an unpopular progressive, Bill de Blasio, a city still reeling from the pandemic, with empty storefronts and emptier office buildings, a subway system that often felt unsafe and, soon, a cynically politicized migrant crisis that had Texas’ Republican governor busing people in great need to Manhattan. Look around today: The offices are filling up, the restaurants are bustling, and the city feels safer. I believe history will be kinder to Mr. Adams in 10 or 20 years.
In an exit interview in The Times this month, the mayor cites a number of signature accomplishments. The City of Yes, a housing opportunity rezoning initiative that will, according to his estimates, build 80,000 homes over the next 15 years. Mr. Adams also argues that his administration has reduced the out-of-pocket cost of subsidized child care from $55 a week in 2022 to $5 a week for families making $55,000 a year. And he states that crime — shootings and killings, to be specific — have significantly decreased. Let’s not forget that he began an anti-rat program that has containerized much of the city’s trash.
There are a few footnotes that should be added to this list. The city’s disorganized 3-K and universal pre-K programs have created confusion for parents and teachers alike. And the city’s falling crime rates follow national trends. Felony assaults have slowly crept up since 2023.
The mayor’s tangible accomplishments have more broadly been overshadowed by the swampiness of how he went about his job. A mayor under federal indictment on bribery, wire fraud and campaign finance charges did not sit well with the citizenry. As Mr. Adams tried to deal with these legal woes, the cozy-looking relationship with President Trump and his administration solidified. That these two Queens men were working together was interpreted by many as some sort of quid pro quo.
One of the hallmarks of the first Trump administration was the disproportionate number of people in his core group who were, during or after his time in office, being investigated, trying to avoid prison or convicted of some impropriety and were sitting in prison. Something similar has happened with Mr. Adams. The problem was simple: He brought too many people along for the ride. Most successful people recognize that not all rooms are for all people, even longstanding friends, family members and colleagues. Mr. Adams proved to be an inconsistent judge of character.
This behavior is what I have a hard time letting go. Black politicians are still held to a higher standard. Those of us who study Black politics, politicians and the electorate are keenly aware of the pressures of the politics of respectability — Black politicians feeling the need to portray themselves in a way that is palatable to non-Black voters, many of whom are reluctant to offer the same benefit of the doubt they might extend to a non-Black politician. Think of the eloquence of David Dinkins or the scandal-free, no-drama Obama administration. Mr. Adams rejected this theory and leaned into a politics of swagger. New Yorkers who fail to name an Adams accomplishment can rattle off the myriad ways he exuded his lack of seriousness.
We can start with saying, to CBS’s Stephen Colbert, that he needs to go to clubs and parties and enjoy the nightlife to “test the product” of New York City. Then there are Mr. Adams’s late nights at Zero Bond and his postparty refrain, “If you’re going to hang out with the boys at night, you have to get up with the men in the morning.” We can move to his extensive international travels, often on the city’s dime. Then there are the questions about why he could not provide a straight answer on issues ranging from his diet to his residence to his whereabouts.
Mr. Adams’s real legacy might be that he has made the future for Black elected officials in New York City harder.
As a final act of pettiness, he marked his last weeks in office by disparaging the incoming Mamdani administration and making it more difficult for it to achieve policy priorities, including its campaign promises on rents.
I was originally sold on the possibility of Mr. Adams, someone who would have hard conversations, someone who would represent a wide array of racial and class perspectives, someone who would work across the ideological spectrum and think creatively about the future of New York City. Now I’m struck by Zohran Mamdani’s talent to do those things. Welcome to the mayoralty, Mr. Mamdani. I’m rooting for you.
Christina Greer is an associate professor at Fordham University and the author of “How to Build a Democracy: From Fannie Lou Hamer and Barbara Jordan to Stacey Abrams” and “Black Ethnics: Race, Immigration, and the Pursuit of the American Dream.” She is a host of the podcast “FAQ-NYC.”
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