I’ve noticed something interesting in the course of the Eliot-Spitzer-Pays-for-Nookie scandal that is currently lighting up the news bureaus, and it is this: In the 24 hours of so that this has been a story, I have seen at least two instances (here and here) where the argument is put forward that the problem isn’t that Governor Spitzer paid for sex, but that prostitution is illegal. Now, I don’t remember many people putting forward the argument that soliciting sexual favors from strangers in public places was okay when Larry Craig got caught with his pants down and his hand under the partition. Maybe I’m wrong about that, perhaps that argument was put forward, and I’ve just forgotten it. But that matters not.
Perhaps prostitution should be legalized. I don’t know, and, as someone who does not patronize whores, it’s irrelevant to me. But that’s also not the question here. Whatever the virtues of legalizing vices, in both cases the activity in question was indubitably illegal, and elected officials should hold avoiding participation in illegal activities as their minimum level of ethical behavior. This shouldn’t be difficult. If it’s against the law, don’t do it.
And now for a couple of side notes. First, I used to walk by the Mayflower Hotel, where Governor Spitzer and “Kristen” had their rendezvous, when I lived in the DC area. It’s on Connecticut Avenue and is right around the corner from the ABC Washington Bureau. In fact, Ted Koppell almost ran me over at that intersection. He was driving a Mercedes convertible with the top down, and he sped away without seeming to have noticed that he had almost sent me to the Pearly Gates. And the most amazing thing? As he sped off toward Chevy Chase at some exotic speed, nary a hair moved. Nary a hair.
The other thing I wanted to take note of was the appearance of Spitzer’s wife, Silda. The poor thing looked in most photos like she had been whacked in the face with a frying pan, and you just can’t blame her. The AP slideshow had photos both from the press conference and from pervious times in Spitzer’s career, and the difference in Silda Spitzer’s face–the strain, the pain, the depression–was palpable. It was terrible to see, and I’m sorry for her troubles.
