Hugh Leo Carey, the former governor of New York State, now says he was wrong to separate his public stand on abortion from the convictions of his conscience.
He was wrong to abhor abortion as a Catholic but to support it as a public official, he says, and wrong not to do more as governor to prevent it.
In January, Carey journeyed to the State Capitol to make his most public and dramatic recantation yet. With Cardinal John J. O'Connor, archbishop of New York City, at his side, Carey said his "eternal regret" was his veto of legislation forcing minors to seek parental consent for abortions.
The speech stunned his audience of 1,000 Catholics gathered to lobby for passage of the same bill he vetoed in 1979. And in a recent interview, the passion for his new stand continued.
"When I was in power, I felt that I should have done more to address what I consider to be the sanctity of human life," Carey now says. "I had the opportunity to do it."
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While his new views carry no political clout, he does step into the middle of the growing debate over how religion and conscience should guide Catholic politicians.
Gov. Cuomo, Carey's lieutenant governor, is prominent among those who say they privately oppose abortion. But because they govern all the people in the state, those politicians feel they cannot mandate what individuals do. Catholic leaders have been highly critical of such a stance, maintaining that the right to life is an absolute.
At the age of 70, Carey has converted to the Church's position. After leaving the Executive Mansion in 1982, he now is a Manhattan attorney and says he believes he must do all in his power to reverse the effects of his public support of abortion rights during his two terms in Albany.
For Carey, abortion no longer is a gray area, and he no longer conveys his feelings in terms like "personally opposed . . . but will publicly support."
His views on abortion are now unqualified.
"I can't give any countenance to abortion," he said in a recent interview.
"I eschew the term pro-choice," he continued. "You don't have the choice as a human being to end the life of another. There is no choice."
The state's 51st governor is remembered in Albany as a man who often voiced his personal opposition to abortion. In private life, he subscribed to the teaching of his Catholic heritage -- abortion is a sin.
But during his years in office, Carey maintained that he should uphold the law of the land and protect the right of abortion for women who wanted them.
That extended to his veto of the parental rights bill and to his support of Medicaid funding for poor women seeking abortions. "If a person has that right and in our state a doctor makes a certification that as a matter of health and necessity, the abortion should take place, then to not supply the funds would be for a political judgment or override a medical judgment," Carey said in 1978.
Since those days, Carey said, he realizes his public position was inconsistent. His Catholic beliefs failed to mesh with his public stand, he confesses, any more than his quasi-support for abortion meshed with his opposition to the death penalty.
"I was inconsistent because I was saying I don't want criminals to be hung," he said. "But I was saying 'OK, go ahead and execute an innocent child.' "
The conversion results from no one event; no "born again" experience. Rather, it was a series of people and events.
First, it was the realization that since abortion was legalized nationally in 1973, the totals had reached 20 million. That figure, he said, "horrified" him.
And, second, he began to heed the example and advice of several women whom he considered "heroines." Sister Maurice, a member of the Sisters of St. Joseph and his former teacher, was one.
"I used to go and visit her regularly when she was in her 90s, and we'd have some talks," he recalled. " 'You'd better straighten out yourself,' she said. 'You've lost your way on this question of abortion. You have to straighten it out.' "
" 'Sister, you're right,' " I said. " 'I'd better straighten myself out.' "
Then about two years ago, Carey made a speech recanting his abortion position before New York City's Catholic Lawyers Guild. But not until last January, when his conversion led him to Albany, did his new position became more widely known.
Carey's renunciation of his 1979 veto stunned many, including his most ardent foe in the abortion battles of the 1970s -- State Sen. James H. Donovan.
"It pleased me as well as surprised me," the Chadwicks Republican said. "I commend him, . . . especially for a man of his stature."
Donovan recalled the bitter days of 1978 and 1979, when he used his Senate position to delay passage of the state budget in an effort to delete Medicaid funding for abortions.
"I remember on one occasion, all the leaders -- the comptroller and everybody -- and myself met in his office," he recalled. "It was nine to one against me, but I wouldn't concede."
"I remember so distinctly the governor saying to me: 'Those people are the ones who elected me.' I've never forgotten those words."
The point was that, for the Hugh Carey of the 1970s, winning elections might have been of paramount importance, Donovan explained.
Donovan also said he carries on the same argument today with Cuomo, maintaining that private opposition and public support for abortion are inconsistent. He calls Cuomo's position a "cop-out."
"I was confronted with the same question when I walked into the Capitol," he said, "but I didn't leave my moral standards on the sidewalk."
"If it means being voted out of office," he continued, "then I guess that's not too big a price to pay at all."
Carey's turnaround also astonished State Sen. Emanuel R. Gold, D-Queens, a leading proponent of abortion rights and now the Senate's deputy minority leader.
"I was very surprised," he said, "because Gov. Carey certainly was a key player in these issues."
Gold said he, too, personally opposes abortion, but any public official should recognize the "overwhelming" support for abortion rights.
"I personally don't believe in abortion as a method of birth control," he said. "But I'm totally pro-choice because I don't have the right to inflict any belief on anyone else."
Carey still ranks as one of the state's best and "most courageous" governors, Gold said, but he questions if Carey's switch results from a new constituency -- the Catholic Church.
"Maybe he has another agenda," he said. "Maybe it's more important now to be politicking with the church."
Even Donovan raises that question, pointing out that Carey's turnaround coincides almost exactly with his appointment two years ago as a Knight of Malta, one of the highest honors the church bestows upon a layman.
"I have a feeling that there would have been no Knight of Malta designation conferred upon him unless this issue was reconciled in his mind and made public," Donovan said.
Carey admitted his stand now is an easier one. He no longer must face a huge and vocal bloc of voters who favor abortion rights, nor must he justify a public vs. private position.
But Carey said the current brouhaha over the public stand taken by Catholic politicians never has been more relevant. While refusing to mention them by name, he obviously refers to Catholics like Cuomo who embrace his former position.
"I don't buy this notion that, when you become a Catholic, if you want to exist in politics, you have to discard your Catholic beliefs," Carey said. "Those Catholic beliefs are not just Catholic beliefs. Those are sound beliefs that have been, frankly, the bedrock upon which this country has been founded."
"If you believe those things, you should enunciate them and get people of good will to subscribe to your way of thinking."
He pointed to how conscience guided George Michaels, the Auburn Democratic assemblyman who in 1970 cast the tie-breaking vote that allowed abortion in the state.
Michaels knew that his pro-choice vote spelled the end of his political career in a heavily Catholic district, but he also knew he had to vote his conscience.
"There may be lots of George Michaelses now, saying 'If I take this route, I'm out of political life,' " he said. "Maybe that's what we should do."
Carey, however, seems to draw the most upon his personal life his new position on abortion. As an infantryman in the Timberwolf Division during World War II, he recalls seeing death in combat and as one of the first Americans to liberate Nazi concentration camps. Carey remembers the "bodies stacked like cordwood because the state had assumed control of human life."
"The state shouldn't have that right," he said. "I saw what happened when that right was given to the Nazis. I don't want that ethic to prevail in this country."
And 16 years after the death of his first wife, Helen, Carey seems to draw most heavily upon her experiences as a woman and mother.
He calls her a heroine, not only bringing 14 Carey children into the world, but also accepting the responsibilities associated with motherhood.
With a great deal of emotion, Carey related how his wife was informed of the cancer that eventually claimed her life.
The possibility of pregnancy was discussed by her doctor, he recalled, and how an abortion might be considered to help fight the disease.
There was no choice, he said. She would not have an abortion.
"My late wife said: 'Doctor, I have a picture here of my 14 children. Which one should I give back? If you can't answer that, don't tell me to have an abortion.' "
Added Carey: "That said it all."
