Here's the thing. Brian Romero is, for all practical purposes, already a New York State Assemblyman. He won the Democratic primary in the 34th District — covering Jackson Heights and Elmhurst in Queens — with 66% of the vote. The Republican Party did not field a candidate. Albany is a formality.
And yet, on Thursday, Romero posted a GoFundMe titled 'Help Brian Cover Rent After State Assembly Run,' asking the public for $2,000 to cover rent and groceries at his $2,600-a-month Jackson Heights apartment.
The fundraiser raised $1,095 — including a $50 anonymous donation and a $200 anonymous contribution — before Romero pulled it down Friday afternoon, after the New York Post began making inquiries. He called it a 'mistake' and said he did not keep any of the money.
The numbers do not make this easier to explain.
Romero earned $106,469 as a legislative aide as recently as last year. He left his most recent role — senior advisor to state Sen. Kristen Gonzalez — in March, citing state ethics guidance he received during the campaign. He told the Post he 'saved for months' but has now depleted his savings as consulting work winds down.
Once sworn in, he will earn $142,000 a year, plus a $203 daily per diem when the Assembly is in session. The gap between now and January is, apparently, the crisis.
'I can't remember seeing something like this happen before,' said Jordan Libowitz, vice president for communications of Citizens for Ethics in Washington.
Romero said he tried to file for unemployment insurance but found the system 'broken' — a frustration that, he added, makes him 'very passionate' about fixing it. He also noted he has lived in NYCHA public housing for nearly 15 years before moving to his current private apartment.
The immediate problem has been resolved the old-fashioned way. 'I have friends I just reached out to directly who said, 'We'll take care of it,'' he told the Post.
Voltage's read: The irony writes itself, but the principle underneath it is worth naming. Romero ran as a democratic socialist — someone who will have a direct vote on how Albany allocates billions in taxpayer money — and his first public act as an elected official was to crowdsource his personal rent. The GoFundMe is gone, the money was returned, and friends stepped in. Fine. But the episode is a small, clarifying window into what happens when the rhetoric of collective redistribution meets the arithmetic of personal finance. The administrative state Romero plans to expand could not process his own unemployment claim. His friends could. That distinction tends to get lost in Albany.
