Substantively, the ad is pushes back against groups urging for higher taxes, in order to fund programs that are facing major funding reductions under Cuomo's proposal.

Politically, McCall's latest appearance comes as Cuomo is getting more criticism from people like Harlem Councilman Robert Jackson, unhappy with the language Cuomo aides are using to discuss budget politics, and the Amsterdam News, who says Cuomo is avoiding downstate minority communities because his budget cuts are unpopular in those areas.

After Andrew Cuomo vowed not conduct a campaign in the gutter, and Carl Paladino said he would focus on the economy, not on personal attacks, the two are back to sparring with one another this afternoon, this time over the issue of Carl McCall, the 2002 Democratic gubernatorial nominee who Cuomo dogged all through the primaries that year, and who endorsed Cuomo on Saturday.

"According to the New York Times, McCall himself called Cuomo 'divisive' and 'crass' for saying that the Democratic Party shouldn't nominate a black candidate for Governor in 2002 just to fulfill a 'racial contract,'" Paladino said in a statement. "These two career politicians don't even like one another, but they'll scratch each other's back in order to maintain power and line their pockets."

Added Paladino: "Cuomo and McCall share a lot in common - they both have a history of failing the taxpayers in their time in office, and they both got embarrassed running for Governor when the voters rejected them. I don't need approval from 'public servants' like these."

Meanwhile Jay Jacobs over at the state Democratic Party responded in kind.

"Carl Paladino is once again showing himself to be erratic and hypocritical. This morning he said that he would stop the smears and lies to actually address the issues New Yorkers care about - like creating jobs. But only hours later, Carl is back to his old playbook trying to smear Carl McCall, this State's former Comptroller. Carl Jekyll meet Carl Hyde.  New Yorkers are hurting and want real change. They deserve better than the lies and smears and the hypocritical rantings of an extremist." 

The state Party has lashed out at Paladino before, photoshopping a pigsnout onto him, a move which earned them a rebuke from Cuomo.

That is the question, which officials have answered with either their presence or absence at the Capitol today--David Paterson, who will give the speech, is managing to do both by miracle of a State Police helicopter.

Michael Bloomberg is not here, but I ran into Kevin Sheekey and Michelle Goldstein, who has been the mayor's representative here but will soon move to Washington. Carl McCall, the former state comptroller, is here as is New York City Comptroller John Liu. And Cyrus Vance Jr., the just-elected Manhattan district attorney, opted to attend the speech instead of Sutton's funeral.

"Obviously it was a tough choice," said Vance's spokeswoman Erin Duggan. "There are a lot of important issues that both the state and the legislature will be working on."

One of these, Duggan said, was domestic violence legislation, something on which Vance campaigned.

There’s every reason to believe he means it, too. And yet it is still almost certain that, come September ’10, Mr. Paterson’s name will be nowhere near a New York Democratic primary ballot.

Right now (and for the immediate future), Mr. Paterson exists in a lonely political no man’s land. His poll numbers have been awful enough for long enough that his party has given up on him behind his back. But because the formal ’10 campaign is still a ways off, there’s been no urgency for them to tell him this to his face.

So, sort of like Richard Nixon was insulated enough to think he could outlast his Watergate tormenters until Barry Goldwater walked into the White House in August 1974 and told him it was over, Paterson can earnestly plead his intentions to run next year without being told no—for now.

If he keeps it up, the moment will come when Mr. Paterson’s fellow Democrats will be forced to move, and when the governor will realize just what he risks by forcing a primary with Andrew Cuomo.

As the governor and his supporters might point out, that all has the ring of unfairness. After all, it is Mr. Paterson, and not Mr. Cuomo, who is the incumbent governor, so if anyone would be forcing a primary, it would technically be the ambitious attorney general.

It's worth noting that it was Mr. Cuomo who in 2002 defied the overwhelming consensus of party leaders and forced a gubernatorial primary with Carl McCall. It's also worth noting that Mr. Paterson’s position heading into a potential 2010 primary is far worse than either Mr. McCall’s or Mr. Cuomo’s position leading up to their fateful clash.

In 2002, Mr. McCall had establishment support, a factor that eventually saw him through to the nomination. But Mr. Cuomo had what appeared to be an advantage in the polls. So while his opponent racked up one endorsement after another from elected officials and party leaders, surveys gave Mr. Cuomo the lead well into the summer.

A May ’02 Quinnipiac poll, for instance, put Mr. Cuomo ahead of Mr. McCall 43 to 33 percent—a lead that expanded to 15 points by that July. It was only then that Mr. McCall’s numbers came to life, and by mid-August he stormed to a 15-point lead—setting in motion that chain of events that led Mr. Cuomo’s face-saving decision to junk his campaign days before the primary. 

It’s far from certain that Mr. Paterson will have anything like the establishment support one would expect for an incumbent, and his position in the polls is a disaster: he trails Mr. Cuomo by 46 points in the most recent Quinnipiac survey—a gap that hasn’t budged almost all year.

Also, in 2002, Mr. Cuomo had room to maneuver because neither he nor Mr. McCall had a clear claim on electability. Throughout the spring and summer, there was no statistically significant difference between them in matchups with incumbent George Pataki: they both trailed by about 25 points.

But the difference now between Mr. Cuomo and Mr. Paterson is staggering: a 9-point lead for Mr. Cuomo over Rudy Giuliani, versus a 20-point deficit for Mr. Paterson.

It seems obvious where this is heading. Mr. Paterson can keep saying he’s running until the end of the year, and maybe even into next year. But then, with the state convention and a straw poll or two approaching, it will be decision time for Democrats.

Mr. Cuomo’s vastly superior political standing will make siding with him a no-brainer, and Democrats will line up to do so out of fear of losing in the fall and, more selfishly, for fear of alienating the inevitable next governor.

Mr. Paterson will then face the prospect of suffering humiliating defeats at the convention and any straw polls that precede it. Very possibly, he’d be forced to petition his way onto the September ballot. And he’ll be looking at polls just as miserable as the ones he sees now—massive deficits against Mr. Cuomo.

Sure, he could run if he wants to. But more likely, he’ll take some version of George Aiken’s advice to L.B.J. about Vietnam: Declare victory and get out.

Rather than mingle with hospital employees and patients in an elevator bank at St. Vincent’s Hospital, where he was scheduled to announce the successful completion of an investigation into the health insurance industry, or to make his way to the 10th floor auditorium in a manner that might have led to unplanned contact with the waiting press, Mr. Cuomo stood on his own for nearly 10 minutes in an empty corridor, blocked off by a white wall and a dark-suited entourage of security agents, hospital executives and press officers.

Finally, an elevator arrived. Mr. Cuomo and his crew commandeered it, crammed in, faced forward and gazed out in stony silence as the doors slid closed.

Let it not be said that Andrew Cuomo isn’t deadly serious about sticking to the PR directive that he should let his actions as attorney general speak for him, and not let his abrasive personality get in the way. It’s been nothing less than a political lobotomy, and it’s worked.  

As Albany crumbles, dragging the approval ratings of Governor David Paterson down to breathtaking new depths, Mr. Cuomo has studiously acted as if nothing’s happening at all. He may acknowledge in private what is obvious—that he is interested in being governor, and that he believes he will get a chance next year—but in public, he has merely announced one righteous crusade after another against the least popular business entities and individuals in New York and beyond.

Contrary to the spotlight-seeking, self-adoring candidate for governor the public saw in 2002, Mr. Cuomo has been almost impossibly restrained when it comes to naked politics, passing on the opportunity to offer anything beyond pro forma statements on the resignation of Eliot Spitzer, on Mr. Paterson’s bungled Senate selection process and, most notably, on the weeks of anarchy in the State Senate that have paralyzed New York government.

“I think he is doing his job and even visually not being all that noticed,” said Lee Miringoff, director of the Marist College Poll, which on June 30 released a new survey showing that Mr. Paterson’s approval rating had risen from 19 percent to only 21 percent. “He is not doing the shows and overplaying his role in this. It’s not a lot of Andrew Cuomo showing up.”

It has been this way since Mr. Cuomo was sworn in as attorney general in 2006, capping four hard years of virtual exile following the disastrous 2002 primary against Carl McCall.

“Very consciously, from the very moment he was sworn in, Andrew has been exceptionally circumspect in public appearances,” said Doug Muzzio, a political scientist at Baruch College. “He had the reputation of being a publicity hound rivaling Charles Schumer. Now he has very consciously let the investigations do the talking rather than him. You don’t want to appear to be too ambitious, particularly when you have an incumbent of your own party, whether it was Spitzer or Paterson.”

Mr. Cuomo, in other words, has become the sum of his prosecutorial deeds—and of the press releases, canned quotes and conference-call transcripts that flow out of his office. He is a defender of college students from the predatory student loan industry, the helmsman of the best Medicaid Fraud Control unit in the country, the scrubber of child pornography from New York’s Web servers, the protector of our pension funds, the scourge of Wall Street greed and global warming and the eradicator of taxes and government bloat.

All of which has made his occasional public tweaks of Mr. Paterson’s budget and tax-cut proposals—his office suggested, among other things, that there had not been sufficient attempts to reduce spending—that much more galling to the governor.

 “You haven’t heard anybody other than the governor suggest how to solve this problem,” Mr. Paterson told The Observer last month. “Because anyone who would be interested would know they can’t win making a suggestion here. So that’s the difference between governing and half-governing.”

“He’s been very low-key,” said State Senator John Bonacic, a Hudson Valley Republican. “Almost gone underground.”

In Rochester on June 23, Mr. Cuomo responded to a question from a reporter about the Senate crisis with a mini-lecture.

"Figure out a way to share power, share control, and get on with it and do the people's business, in a power-sharing agreement," said Mr. Cuomo, putting air quotes around the words "power sharing."  "It's 50-50. Figure out a way to cooperate to the extent of doing the people's business."

That has pretty much been it from him.

As Mr. Paterson and others have fairly screamed in attempts to affect some sort of change in the embarrassing Senate stand-off between the deadlocked factions—or, at least, in an attempt to be seen to be trying—Mr.  Cuomo’s office has delivered more of the usual: statements boasting of a guilty plea Mr. Cuomo secured from a former tax department employee, an angry letter to Bloomberg News for a critical story about Mr. Cuomo’s pay-to-play investigation of the state pension fund (“It is quite clear that Bloomberg's performance violates the ethical standards of responsible reporting and runs afoul of the basic legal standards imposed on journalists”), notice of an indictment for a travel operator for selling phony vouchers and an announcement that the profits from an auction of the art collection belonging to an associate of Bernard Madoff would be frozen to repay the victims of the alleged fraud.

Mr. Paterson’s barely veiled criticisms aside, in other words, Mr. Cuomo’s political behavior has literally put him beyond reproach.

“I’m not aware of any particular leverage the attorney general would have in this, institutionally,” said State Comptroller Tom DiNapoli, who, like Mr. Cuomo, has been called on by some critics to get more involved to resolve the Senate leadership issue. “I don’t think anybody benefits from being in the middle of it. It’s obviously a very messy, unprecedented situation so whether that’s a deliberate strategy I can’t tell you; I haven’t had that conversation.”

“In 2002 he was running for office so he was obviously pretty active, but I mean, what can he do? The best way to deal with the crisis in Albany is to stay out of it,” said Mr. McCall, who said he now talks to Mr. Cuomo and holds no ill feeling toward him.

He continued, “We have seen that the governor has very little authority to do anything about it, it’s a separate branch of government and you can’t tell them what to do, and I think the attorney general would feel the same way. You can’t tell them what to do. I think that anybody who jumps into the middle of it takes on all the liabilities that go with it.”

“Is he purposefully lying low?” said State Senator Bill Perkins, an ally of Mr. Paterson. “I would say there’s some of that as well. Strategically, he may have an agenda that requires him to stay away from the fray.”

After the elevator finally brought him to the 10^th floor of St. Vincent’s for his Power Point presentation about how his office had reached a final agreement to address conflicts of interests in the health insurance industry, Mr. Cuomo entered the small auditorium to applause. He waved his right hand above his head at the gathered health care providers, flashed a broad smile and took a seat alone at the end of the first row. With his hands held together, thoughtfully, in front of his face, he listened to testimonials from hospital executives and patients about how he was on a “quest to improve health care for New Yorkers” and how he “changed the way I think about government.”

A cancer patient, who Mr. Cuomo’s office had been helping to negotiate the ins and outs of covering her treatment, introduced him as “the coolest man I know, Attorney General Andrew Cuomo.”

“I’m cool,” Mr. Cuomo said, to laughter, when he took over the podium. “I’ve been called a lot of things before. Never cool.” 

After the presentation, he returned to the elevator without taking any questions.

--additional reporting by Jimmy Vielkind

In recent days, as polls continue to show him getting destroyed in a hypothetical primary next year against Andrew Cuomo, he has attemped to warn off would-be challengers from his base in Harlem, staked a claim to the suburban vote with a plan to curb property taxes, attempted to take possession, finally, of Albany's efforts to produce a plan to bridge the M.T.A. deficit, and aggressively rebutted a leaked report that good-government groups want an investigation into the leaks about Caroline Kennedy.

At the same time, his campaign people are no longer leaving unstated their suspicions that Cuomo is actively trying to push the governor over a cliff, and Paterson seems increasingly willing to demonstrate publicly that all is not well between him and Malcolm Smith.

To those who have known the governor for a long time and remain in his corner, it's all somewhat refreshing.

"Good," said State Senator Eric Schneiderman, an old friend and confidant of Paterson. "David's doing what he should be doing. There is much more support and potential support out there."

"It's not a sign of desperation," Schneiderman continued. "It's a sign he's doing what he should be doing."

The new strategy follows a convening of Paterson's closest advisers—led by former chief of staff Charles O'Byrne—to develop a comeback plan. It starts, necessarily, with a policy breakthrough—or at least the appearance that the governor is trying really hard to achieve one.

Hence, perhaps, Paterson's proposed compromise on the M.T.A. funding plan that would rebate some of the payroll taxes levied on school districts to raise money for transportation, and his attempts to promote the package in interviews with The Times and the Daily News, in which he urged quick action.

Hence, also, his decision to ambush Smith with a same-sex marriage bill that's far from certain to pass the Senate.

(Both men say publicly that nothing has changed in their relationship; one person who knows both Paterson and Smith explained that it's the natural course of "Malcolm coming into his own as a leader, and David realizing that and reacting to it.")

"It's just that this is the first opportunity he's had," said Assemblyman Gary Pretlow. "Now he's going to fight back and show us who he is. I've always felt David is a capable, affable guy. And with the win of that Congressional seat, he looks like a genius."

"He is putting together a team that will fashion a first-class campaign, and he's not going anywhere," former comptroller Carl McCall—a staunch Paterson supporter who ran for governor in 2002, after staving off a primary challenge from Andrew Cuomo—told me. "That is the message that he's communicating."

The flip side is that Paterson remains Paterson. His flaws persist, chief among them a propensity to tell people what they want to hear and sometimes waffle on major decisions—the same flaws that were laid brutally bare during the selection of Hillary Clinton's Senate replacement.

"He's trying to redirect himself, but we don't know where," said Alan Lubin, executive vice president for New York State United Teachers, an organization that has had its differences with Paterson. "Is there hope that he can turn it around? I think there is. But it all depends on what's going on."

Lubin noted that no one has secured his organization's support for governor in 2010. 

As he walked out of a St. Patrick’s Day breakfast at St. Bart’s church on 51st Street on March 17, Mr. Paterson told The Observer, “Somebody once wrote that you shouldn’t pity the community for wondering who its leaders are—you should pity the community that needs leaders.”

Mr. Paterson’s point was that the attention should be on Harlem’s problems, not its politicians.

But up there, right now, Topic A is David Paterson. And the conversation isn’t a happy one.

His improbable, fluky rise to the state’s top office one year ago came as Harlem’s longtime leaders neared the end of their careers, and as black populations and sway increased in the outer boroughs. If it wasn’t the dawning of a new era for the city’s traditional power center of black politics, Mr. Paterson’s ascendancy seemed, at least, to have staved off the dying of the light.

“People were elated,” said Bill Lynch, the city’s best-established black consultant, who is based
in Harlem and has advised Mr. Paterson.

The child of former State Senator Basil Paterson—who along with former Mayor David Dinkins, former Manhattan Borough President Percy Sutton and Representative Charlie Rangel formed the legendary “Gang of Four” that ran Harlem politics for decades—Mr. Paterson was always an unlikely standard-bearer.

To avoid special-education classes for his visual impairment, he attended high school in Hempstead, not Harlem, before moving back uptown as a Columbia University student in the late 1970s. Even after he won election in 1985 to represent his father’s old Harlem district in the State Senate, he seized opportunities to distance himself from his father and the rest of the old guard, running without their approval and without their endorsement for public advocate, and then, again against their wishes, he left his post as Senate majority leader to run as Eliot Spitzer’s lieutenant governor.

Then the fates, acting through Mr. Spitzer’s libido, hoisted Mr. Paterson to the governor’s mansion. Harlem had found a new champion.

Except it hasn’t.

Mr. Paterson’s approval numbers are in the gutter and his administration has been a case study in chaos. Mr. Rangel and other old guard Harlem power brokers now sound eager, above all else, not to have Mr. Paterson’s problems reflect poorly on Harlem’s leadership as a whole.

Asked after a recent appearance at the Langston Hughes Auditorium of the Schomburg Center on 135th Street whether Mr. Paterson now represented political Harlem, Mr. Rangel, the reigning Harlem power broker and chairman of the House’s Ways and Means Committee, responded, “I don’t think so.”

“Because remember,” said Mr. Rangel, “Dave Paterson was a senator in the minority for most all of his political career and when things started changing. It changed so fast that he was hurtled into the actual political leadership, because he’s governor. But it’s not as though as senator he was that much more ahead of a Bill Perkins or Keith Wright.”

Mr. Rangel had just participated in a panel discussion with those Harlem assemblymen on how best to capitalize on federal stimulus money, during which he had spoken of “our great governor, David Paterson.”

Outside the auditorium, Mr. Rangel said the very idea of a torch-passing to Mr. Paterson was a false construct.

“I don’t think old-timers like me sit back and say, ‘Now which one of these will receive the torch?’” he said. “I don’t think Adam Powell was waiting for someone to come. I don’t think most communities do that. I don’t know whether they’re looking for a Bill Perkins, or Inez Dickens, or Keith Wright, but these are the leaders that we have in our community; I know our community’s looking for them.”

Then again, as charter members of Harlem’s political elite readily acknowledge, that community has changed.

“Look at the demographic shifts,” said Carl McCall, the former state comptroller who became the Democratic nominee for governor in 2002 after a botched primary challenge from Andrew Cuomo. “Harlem got the attention, because of its location in Manhattan, because of its access to the media. Harlem was always considered sort of a premier black community in the country, but now if you just look at the numbers, the only minority we are talking about running for mayor is Billy Thompson, and he’s from Brooklyn.”

“There are competent black people who hold office in many other boroughs,” said Mr. Dinkins. “It’s not limited to Harlem, as once was the case.”

Mr. Dinkins, who called himself “a friend and a fan of the governor” who he’s known “since birth,” challenged the notion that Mr. Paterson should even be thought of as a leader for Harlem.

“He holds a statewide office, and it is unfair or inaccurate to think of him only as a Harlem leader. He’s a whole lot bigger than that,” said Mr. Dinkins.

“When Governor Paterson was catapulted to the governorship, he, quote unquote, left Harlem as a representative,” said Mr. Lynch.

Before the March 13 panel began, attendees networked and talked about stimulus dollars over a spread of croissants, muffins, orange juice and coffee. A poster of Barack Obama in the corner of the lobby advertised an upcoming exhibit called “Becoming American: African Americans and American Politics.”

“He needs everybody’s support. If he doesn’t have everybody’s support, it’s not going to work,” said Martin Smith, who handed out cards describing himself as the Democratic Male District Leader of West Harlem.

Some Paterson supporters, like Geoffrey Eaton, an N.A.A.C.P. vice president, rallied behind the governor (“he is the leader and he’s going to lead”), but other attendees seemed ready to concede, regretfully, that Mr. Paterson was not going to be the answer to Harlem’s declining influence.

“I know his dad, I love him,” said Alvin Reed, the 69-year-old owner of the storied Lenox Lounge in Harlem. “But I don’t think it’s him.”

Mr. Reed, who has neat gray hair and wears black-framed glasses, picked at a bowl of fruit as he expressed some frustration that the same politicians, like Mr. Rangel, had held a stranglehold on power in Harlem for ages.

Asked who the future of black leadership in Harlem would be, Mr. Reed said, “That’s what everybody’s wondering.”

The organizers of the meeting called everyone into the auditorium (“any seat after row four is yours, baby”), and Mr. Rangel made his grand entrance, squeezing palms with one hand and holding a white Styrofoam cup of coffee with the other. Leaning against the stage, Councilwoman Inez Dickens said Mr. Paterson’s ascent had surprised everyone.

“Who knew what happened was going to happen?” she said.

She said that she fully supported the governor, who, she said, had inherited an awfully tough economic situation. She said it was no more clear now who would emerge as the next recognized leader of Harlem than it had been in the 1960s, when “it was not clear” that Mr. Rangel, Mr. Dinkins, Mr. Sutton and Basil Paterson were amassing power and influence. 

What was known, she said, was that “they were young, they were ambitious.”

Down the block, outdoor furniture had started appearing on the balconies of the sprawling Lenox Terrace luxury apartments, where Mr. Rangel, Mr. Paterson, his father, Basil Paterson, the former Borough President Percy Sutton and several other Harlem leaders have residences (some at particularly low rents). A plaque honoring Marcus Garvey, for whom Mr. Paterson’s paternal grandmother worked as a secretary, was mounted next to the front doors of the complex’s Devonshire apartments, where uniformed doormen bid good day to the people coming and going.

Bill Jackson, a longtime resident, returned home carrying a Daily News and wearing a beat-up Yankees cap. He said that he could see “some type of power shift” happening away from Harlem and expressed disappointment that Mr. Paterson’s popularity “took a dive” after the senate selection process, which he called “horrible.”

The governor, he said, had “gotten caught up in the power stream.”

As far as identifying a new leader for Harlem, he said, “I can’t think of anyone who comes to mind on the state level.”

Further down on Lenox Avenue, regulars and tourists and political operatives sat down for breakfast at Sylvia’s, surrounded by framed and aged photos of Mr. Rangel, Mr. Dinkins and other members of the old Harlem leadership. At the front counter, Raymond James, a 47-year-old corrections officer wearing a wool hat pulled down to his ears, ate a plate of salmon cakes and scrambled eggs.

Mr. James, who lives in Harlem, said he liked Mr. Paterson but noted that he held his current position because of an “accident,” and offered that he didn’t think the governor was up to the job.

“I think he’s trying to be fair,” Mr. James said, “but Carl McCall might have been better because he was more mature.”

Still, Mr. James said, the field was wide open for the next wave of Harlem leadership, because the old guard was about done.

“Rangel’s on his way out,” he said.

Or maybe the idea of any sort of cohesive political “Harlem” is already an anachronism. Certainly, that’s the reality that leading black officials from the more demographically significant outer boroughs are already operating under.

“As far as culture, as far as being historic in nature, Harlem will always play that role, but as for black politics, black politics is different than what it was,” said Representative Gregory Meeks of Queens. “Harlem is not going to have a Gang of Four anymore, just for Harlem. Those days are over. If there is going to be a gang of anything, it’s going to be multi-borough.”

Representative Yvette Clarke of Brooklyn agreed.

“In the black community, you see more coalition-building as opposed to one particular power center,” said Ms. Clarke over coffee at a midtown deli. “There is a changing of the guard.”

At a press event on the morning of March 16 to highlight the completed renovation of the South Ferry Terminal station, dozens of television cameramen and still photographers squeezed like rush-hour commuters into a car of the No. 1 train and took pictures of Governor David Paterson, who stood silently in front of a subway map, waiting for the maiden voyage from the revamped station to begin.

Councilman Alan Gerson, who had a staked out a spot nearby, broke the silence by suggesting that the governor, instead of exiting after the photo op one stop later, ride all the way uptown “for old time’s sake.”

Mr. Paterson broke out with a smile.

“There we go!” he said.

jhorowitz@observer.com

He called to say that his August 13 fund-raiser features Democratic State Senate Leader Malcolm Smith and conference co-chair Jeff Klein, but they are not behind the event.

“They are not organizing it,” Diaz told me. “They never organized nothing for me.” Diaz said his paid fund-raiser for the event is Anne Noonan, and that he is calling contributors himself.

Diaz also said of the party, “I’ve been there when they needed me,” and added that he contributed money to help his conference pick up seats. Diaz said he gave $5,000 to Craig Johnson’s race on Long Island, and $2,000 to help elect David Valesky upstate. The State Board of Elections web site shows a $5,000 donation from Diaz to the state Democratic Campaign Committee on January 23, 2007. (Johnson’s election day was in February).

In defense of his cozy relationship with Republicans, Diaz recalled the 2005 mayoral election, when Democrat Fernando Ferrer opposed (then) Republican Michael Bloomberg.

“Half of the Democratic senators went against Ferrer, including Malcolm Smith,” Diaz said. “I’m not saying I’m going to go against Smith, but I am saying that people have done it before.” He added, “Where were all these Democrats when Fernando Ferrer needed them?”

Diaz also noted that in 2002 the union 1199 SEIU supported Republican George Pataki against Democrat Carl McCall.

UPDATE: When asked for comment, Smith's office referred the request to political consultant Doug Forand, who declined to comment.

"I just got off the phone with David," said McCall, "and he is also in a sense of shock and what he said to me is, he is prepared to do whatever is necessary to provide the leadership in this state. That's the type of determination he has. I think David has the ability to do the job. David has been tested. He has been in the Legislature at a very top position for a long time; he is a very smart fellow who I think will be able to step in and provide the leadership we need, if it comes to that."

"He was shocked but at the same time determined," said McCall. "He said he is prepared to do whatever needs to be done and he is ready for it."

McCall said he did not know if Spitzer had spoken with Paterson.

McCall also said the choice of whether or not to resign rested solely with Spitzer.

"I think that is a very difficult decision that he has to make. This is a terrible personal tragedy for him and his family and the people of his state, those of us who have really been looking forward to his leadership who have been seeing the fruits of it so far and hopefully there'd be more to come. However, this is just a decision that he will have to make, we will have to make. And we will just have to stand by and support him in what he decides to do."

But McCall also allowed for the potential of paralysis, at the very least, in state government were Spitzer to stay.

"The consideration is, will he be able to provide the effective leadership going forward or will there just be a stalemate and will the Republicans, who themselves are on the ropes, will try to make something of this and then there will be gridlock."

He also said Spitzer's difficulties were compounded by his rocky first year in office.

"There are two different things. The problems that he has had over the last few months are more political. These things happen politically. Did he do something wrong, did his staff do something wrong—that's one set of considerations and I believe he was working his way out of that and coming back from that. This is very different. This is a very personal thing.

"These things all have a way of coinciding. Coming on top of the earlier problems, this brings that all back up again. There's no question that the confluence of this makes it all that much more difficult."

He said that aside from Paterson, other New York Democrats would have to step up.

"Shelly Silver has a big role to play," he said. "He has been very quiet and effective. He is going to have to be more public.

"This is huge—there is no question about it," said McCall, saying once again that it would be the governor's choice alone. "We will have to try and live with the consequences."

Last month, Carrion rolled out two others: former state comptroller Carl McCall and business executive Leo Hindrey Jr.

Locking up the support of two former comptrollers gives Carrion, at least, a distinction among a field that also includes Melinda Katz, David Yassky, David Weprin, Simcha Felder and James Brennan.

Here is the official statement: