New York’s Grand Capitol Slowly Awakens From Pandemic Slumber

ALBANY, N.Y. — The pace inside this hulking pile of stone was once frenetic.

Lobbyists seeking to influence legislation in New York’s State Capitol would stand sentry outside its doors, looking to bend the ears of lawmakers scurrying out of debates or sessions of closed-door deal-making.

Activists would pack its steps to stage demonstrations, rubbing elbows with aides on their way to lunch while school children toured inside.

Elected officials would emerge from late-night meetings into dimly-lit passageways where they would be cornered by reporters scouring for news.

These daily rituals once breathed life into the Capitol, a building that for over a century has housed a rich tradition of public service, and also endured episodes of scandal that became synonymous with this city’s name.

But the coronavirus pandemic ground those daily rhythms to an abrupt halt in March 2020. The Capitol shut down as lawmakers stayed home and pivoted to legislating remotely.

The closure left the building’s cavernous inside, a gem of 19th century architecture, desolate. Barely a soul climbed its grand staircases, some of which are punctuated by haunting sandstone carvings, including mischievous-looking gargoyles and unidentified faces known here as the “Capitol’s Unknown.”

Gone was the hustle-and-bustle that also offered surprising accessibility, of bearing witness to policy being made, even if much of that policy was still cut in back rooms.

As the deputy majority leader of the State Senate, Michael Gianaris was one of the few lawmakers required to routinely show up at the Capitol during the pandemic.

“It was like wandering around Hogwarts at night,” said Mr. Gianaris, a Democrat from Queens. “In a word, surreal.”

When the coronavirus first descended on the nation, state legislatures from Trenton to Santa Fe curtailed public access to statehouses. Lawmakers began holding hearings and voting on bills virtually. Many state employees worked from home.

The drastic shift emptied out many government buildings, rupturing the social fabric of capital cities whose identities and economic well-being have long been intertwined with the workings of state government.

Even though all 50 statehouses have reopened to the public and Capitols have flickered back to life, the recovery has been slow. Some states are considering making hybrid work permanent, which could leave some government towns in the lurch.

Downtown Sacramento, where California’s domed Capitol building sits, remains a ghost town. Tens of thousands of government workers are still telecommuting. “Closed” signs mark the entrances of restaurants once filled with lobbyists and legislators sharing expense account lunches.

Darrell Steinberg, the city’s mayor, begged state agencies recently to “end the Covid lethargy” and bring workers back into office buildings, saying that businesses “have suffered deeply from their absence.”

In New York, the Omicron variant disrupted the return to Albany just as many anticipated normalcy. It has delayed the full recovery of the city’s downtown area, which relies largely on legislative business and office workers.

Visitors, now required to show proof of vaccination or a negative test to enter the Capitol, have mostly stayed away.

Lawmakers have largely returned for the 2022 legislative session, which runs from January to June, typically for three or four days a week. Lawmaking had been a solitary affair over the past two years. Legislative chambers stayed mostly empty because of restrictions on capacity lifted only recently.

Democrats who control the Legislature have passed far-reaching legislation, including redrawn congressional districts, without the typical cheers or heckles from the chamber’s rafters.

Gov. Kathy Hochul delivered her State of the State address, usually a grandiose affair, in the Assembly chamber with just a few invitees.

Lawmakers videoconference into meetings and hearings while many journalists have worked remotely, away from the once-teeming press-office on the third floor.

The public, until earlier this month, had been barred from entering the Legislative Office Building, an 11-story marble structure where most lawmakers have their offices.

The lack of physical access had rankled lobbyists, as well as advocacy groups whose members, from dairy farmers to tenants, relied on so-called “lobby days” to meet with lawmakers.

Rebecca Garrard, the legislative director of Citizen Action New York, said that lobbying lawmakers virtually wasn’t as impactful as having them hear from constituents in person. She suggested the restrictions could have favored deep-pocketed interest groups with more established access to lawmakers.

“The playing field was not level,” Ms. Garrard said. “If we could have teachers teaching in the classroom, then the legislative capital of the state could have found a way for constituent visits.”

The pandemic also took a toll on the businesses that rely almost entirely on people showing up for work at the Capitol, including elected officials and thousands of state workers.

The Capitol is surrounded by a complex of government buildings, all connected by a system of underground tunnels lined with restaurants and shops that cater to state workers.

But most of those businesses shut down when much of the government shifted to virtual work. And even though many state workers have been brought back to the workplace, about one-fifth continue to work remotely for a portion of the week, according to state officials.

Ron Bulich, a farmer who has sold his vegetables to state workers at the weekly farmers market for three decades, said many of his competitors had retired, gone out of business or sold their lands.

“Last year, when we were down here, you could take a bowling bowl and roll it down the hall and not hit a soul,” he said. “Now, I’ve started seeing people I hadn’t seen in a year or two.”

Businesses have had to adjust to the lower-than-usual demand, as well as to post-pandemic labor shortages.

Patsy’s Barber Shop, where politicians and agency workers alike get haircuts, now employs three barbers, down from six before the pandemic, after they left to become locksmiths or truckers.

“I miss the hustle and bustle around here,” said Mark Jablonski, one of the barbers. “It was good people watching.”

The advent of remote work has also posed a hurdle to the surrounding area’s recovery. Albany, a leafy low-rise city of about 100,000 people along the Hudson River, is also a hub for health care, education and technology.

Kathy Sheehan, the city’s mayor, said the “final linchpin” to cap a full comeback was getting people back to offices, and feeling comfortable again in crowded spaces.

“If we want to continue to attract people and businesses to our region, our city centers have to be strong,” Ms. Sheehan, a Democrat, said in her City Hall office. “I think government towns are hurting, but I think all cities are struggling with this.”

There are signs the city is turning a corner.

The MVP Arena, a stadium that hosts sports games and concerts, is attracting crowds again. The Palace Theatre recently sold out a comedy show featuring Kevin Hart in four hours.

About 70 percent of downtown employees have returned to their offices, with the number expected to continue rising, according to the Downtown Albany Business Improvement District.

“Covid paused the development and revitalization of downtown,” said Georgette Steffens, the group’s executive director. “Now we’re picking up where we left off.”

But she noted that the five downtown hotels, which rely more on people visiting during weekdays for business than weekend getaways, have suffered because of the emptier Capitol.

Some restaurants on Pearl and State Streets that once bustled with lawyers and lobbyists are no longer open for lunch.

Jack’s Oyster House, a family-run institution serving seafood since 1913, used to operate seven days a week, but now serves dinner four days a week with only half its typical staff.

“We would get a lot of legislative business and many travelers staying at the hotels, and they would want to come here,” said Brad Rosenstein, the restaurant’s third generation owner. “That just dried up.”

The restaurant, which weathered the 1918 flu pandemic, has had to reinvent itself on the fly to attract more locals, according to Josh White, the managing partner. The owners upgraded the bar area and experimented with new cocktails, a Sunday brunch offering and tasting menus.

“There’s no dollar amount or value that I could put on what I learned these past two years,” he said. “There’s extreme value in the pain. Right?”

A semblance of normalcy has begun to return to the Capitol this month.

Mask rules have been lifted. More in-person news conferences were held last week, with activists and lawmakers once again crowding the building.

“It’s so nice to be back in the Capitol, huh?” State Senator Jessica Ramos, a Democrat from Queens, told a crowd of about 50 people rallying on Tuesday to boost wages for home care workers.

Some lawmakers had opted for virtual fund-raisers during the Omicron surge.

But with coronavirus cases plummeting, many have resumed raising money in person again, mingling with donors at the Fort Orange Club, the members-only mansion that has long served as a safe haven for politicians wanting to socialize away from prying eyes.

At least two dozen fund-raisers are taking place in Albany this month, as election season picks up.

And many legislators remain as eager as ever to flock back to their districts on Wednesdays or Thursdays, known here as “getaway days.”

“When are you going home?” one Long Island lawmaker asked a colleague in an elevator on a recent morning.

“Can I get a ride with you?”

Shawn Hubler contributed reporting from California.