Recovering from Christie Fever

Over coffee, I once asked a famous New Jersey Democrat about our Republican governor.

"Chris Christie," my tablemate said with a smile, "gets things done."

Those were the days when even some liberals of my acquaintance could succumb to Christie Fever.

Suddenly, they (OK, we) were wondering whether the amiably brazen big mouth could be just what New Jersey - or, heaven help us, America - needed.

I was entertained, and impressed, watching Christie perform before adoring crowds at his early "town halls" - those deftly stage-managed, taxpayer-funded showcases for a political star on the rise.

In 30-plus years of Jersey journalism, I'd never seen anything quite like it. Even the man's struggle with weight served to humanize him. Warts and all, Christie strutted like someone who could and would get things done.

Given how much needed to get done in New Jersey, the home of unsustainable property taxes and insatiable government spending, perhaps Christie's confrontational approach could be forgiven.

At least that's how it felt during the initial stages of Christie Fever.

Yes, the governor gratuitously bludgeoned the unions representing teachers and (some) other public employees. But could anyone, other than the beneficiaries, argue that pensions and benefits for government workers in New Jersey were stingy?

So what if Christie offered developers tax breaks to finish that wretched Meadowlands mega-mall and the grandiose Revel casino, but capped the salaries of public school superintendents?

While Christie's leadership during Hurricane Sandy's immediate aftermath was as admirable as it was theatrical, his blaming the slow pace of recovery on the federal government - led by the same Barack Obama he'd earlier enfolded in a bipartisan hug on TV - was a cheap shot.

Even then, however, liberals could take comfort in Christie's seemingly heartfelt embrace of Camden.

That the governor in essence chose to work with the Camden County Democratic machine - which had presided over the declining city for decades - paled next to the intoxicating promises of new schools, more cops, and jobs, jobs, jobs.

Elsewhere in New Jersey, however, job creation numbers during Christie's tenure remained anemic and the state's credit rating on a downgrade. The governor broke his promise to replenish the state pension fund, but kept his vow to veto proposed hikes on the Garden State's wealthiest residents.

Recently, the context for the governor's empathy for the well-heeled has become more apparent. Seems the proudly ethnic, Newark-born Christie has enjoyed the largesse of the national and international celebrities he calls friends, among them King Abdullah of Jordan, whom the New York Times says the governor met at a "salon-style dinner" (whatever that is).

Posh hotels and private jets could insulate anyone from ordinary New Jerseyans' concerns - such as traffic problems in Fort Lee. Or the deterioration of state highways (the Route 70 moonscape in Cherry Hill comes to mind).

As the governor shifts his attention from the tedium of Trenton toward the excitement of campaigning for president, his willingness to take questions - except in circumstances his team controls - has become less frequent and more fraught.

His singularly ill-advised and thoroughly muddled comments about childhood vaccinations prove just how perilous the public spotlight can be, outside of, say, the sanctuary of New Jersey 101.5's Ask the Governor extravaganzas.

No vaccination was available, alas, when Christie Fever was at its peak.

But a cure is at hand.

Time, and doses of reality, is doing the trick.