By Art Harris, (c) www.artharris.com, all rights reserved

In the annals of mea culpas, it doesn’t come close to the classic, all-time tear-choked “I Have Sinned!” apology at the pulpit by Rev. Jimmy Swaggart before announcing a brief exit from his Baton Rouge ministry 20 years ago after dallying with a prostitute on Airline Highway in New Orleans.

I was there in the pews, a reporter awe-struck at the heavenly drama, heart-rending and heart-breaking for his flock. Geraldo was in the balcony, autographing Bibles. He saw it, too.

”I HAVE SINNED OH LORD!”

As Swaggart looked skyward, some marveled he must have had an onion in his hankie to bring on such tears.

Spitzer could have used an onion Tuesday as he announced he was stepping down as New York’s governor, his pledge to clean up corruption cut short by a predilection for pricey prostitutes exposed in a federal affadavit, a penchant he shared with Swaggart, who shopped for his favorite $20 varietals along seedy strips where motels rented by the day, or the hour.

Both powerful in their own orbits, a contrite Swaggart confided to a rival preacher who’d caught him that he’d chased prostitutes in every city he’d ever preached in, “and if they go to hell, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

In Swaggart’s case, you could feel his pain, his inner turmoil, and he knew instnctively that redemption would require a visible anguish, a sort of high drama damage control that meant he’d have to wail and flail, “I HAVE SINNED, OH LORD!”

No one expected Gov. Spitzer to do some giant emotional reveal, but he appeared to give nothing, no blood, no sweat and certainly not a tear, though The New York Times, which broke the call-girl ring story of a governor ensared, noted he’d softened “his usual barking tone.”

It’s llikely going to take more heart on the sleeve, though, to win back a public that swept him into office by a landslide for playing sheriff of Wall Street, a pit-bull prosecutor who not only busted prostitution rings himself, but humbled powerful insurance companies, banks and other corporations, forcing them to payback millions of dollars to consumers they’d defrauded. After he resigned Wednsday, there were reports that sounds of champagne corks popping echoed about the skyscrapers near the New York Stock Exchange to celebrate the mighty fallen.

But there’s hope. Even more than watching the mighty fall, America loves a redeemed sinner.

But the walk back to public grace is tougher if the mighty public figure was a harsh judge of others. Like Swaggart, the Spitzer debacle is not about sex, or sin, but hypocrisy, set against a backdrop of Spitzer slamming others harshly for doing the same thing no one knows you’re doing. Yet.

Indeed, Swaggart demanded the resignation of rival TV preacher Jim Bakker, who went on to serve a federal prison term for defrauding his flock, when he learned Bakker had dallied with a church secretary. Then he exposed another rival preacher for infidelity, costing him a satellite ministry.

Soon, the worm would turn.

A private eye clicked him coming out of a room at a $10 an hour motel with a prostitute and mother of three, rather homely compared to the curvaceous Kristen ordered up by client #9, later revealed to be Spitzer, according to a federal affadavit and sources close to the investigation. It all began, according to news accounts, when banks reported large withdrawals, suspected money laundering and the FBI’s public corruption squad took the case, set up wiretaps, and there was the Gov.

By some accounts, he believed he could weather the storm and asked a prominent lawmaker what he thought. I’m told Spitzer heard some felt he was either delusional, or living in denial. Now he’s had to book his own criminal lawyers in case he’s charged with transporting prostitutes across state lines, a federal crime, for allegedly ordering up Kristen from the escort service, The Emperor’s Club in New York, and bringing her to the Mayflower Hotel in Washington, D.C., $5,000 reported dalliance.

After Spitzer heals his own family wounds and considers joining a sex addict group, with the husband of one democratic candidate for President who had been counting on him as a super delegate, he may have to consider throwing himself on a public sidewalk, borrow Swaggart’s onion, or take a few lessons from some master of redemption.

Or, as a former high-priced escort who worked the New York scene told me, he might consider stand-up comedy.

Here’s the joke:

“How do you get a prostitute to slow down?

Put a governor on her.”

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 13th, 2008 at 1:25 am and is filed under ART HARRIS REPORTS, Elliot Spitzer, New York Prostitution Ring. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.