He’s facing retrial for alleged extortion, money-laundering and fraud, but for 10 years City Councilman Larry Seabrook has gotten away with the biggest crime of all — selling out his poor and middle-class constituents.
Seabrook’s disdain for the people who elected him was never more evident than in 2002, when Mayor Bloomberg proposed a 25 percent property-tax increase to help the city get through a frightening financial stretch following 9/11.
The howls of homeowners could be heard from Riverdale to Bay Ridge.
Property owners in Seabrook’s Bronx district, centered on Co-Op City, were even more distressed.
Many had bought their homes decades ago, when prices were low.
Rising taxes and higher assessments had driven up their tax bills to the point where some on modest incomes were barely getting by.
So Seabrook scheduled a rally on the steps of City Hall at around noon on a Friday to forcefully denounce the mayor’s tax proposal and demand that Bloomberg pull it back.
Dozens of homeowners showed up, including many seniors on fixed incomes who expressed fear that they might lose their homes. Virtually all were black or Latino.
Not a single news outlet was there to record the event, which Seabrook didn’t announce in advance to the media at City Hall.
But a Post reporter who came upon the large assembly chanting against higher taxes asked Seabrook if he was prepared to vote against the entire city budget in order to block what would be a record tax hike.
Of course, he said, adding that the City Hall rally was just the first step in the campaign. It was to be followed by an even larger protest the next day.
The council ultimately approved an 18.5 percent tax increase, with Seabrook voting with the majority. He claimed he went along because the rate had been lowered during negotiations.
It was only later that a council colleague confided that Seabrook had lobbied behind the scenes for the full 25 percent increase, using the argument that higher taxes would give council members more money to disperse as they saw fit.
Federal prosecutors charge that Seabrook between 2002 and 2009 steered more than $1 million in government funds to nonprofits he secretly controlled, where his girlfriend, brother, sister and nephews were on the payrolls. Seabrook’s first trial ended in a hung jury. The feds promise to try again for a conviction.
In the meantime, Seabrook continues to collect his $112,500 annual salary for not doing much.
Since 2002, only a single bill he has introduced has become law.
In that same 10-year frame, he has bucked the majority precisely once, to vote against a measure imposing fines when cellphones go off in theaters.
If he isn’t in jail by next June, Seabrook will also get to dispense another round of taxpayer funds to local nonprofits. Last year, while he was under indictment, the council allowed Seabrook to allocate $362,000 to more than a dozen groups.
Council officials say the screening process is now so vigorous that there’s no way for anyone to cheat.
But why allow him any role in the process? It should be obvious by now that Seabrook’s constituents need protection — from Seabrook.