Ex-New Jersey Gov. Jim McGreevey: Life after coming out (Part 1)

By Cristina DC Pastor

The FilAm Exclusive

The decision to interview former New Jersey Governor James ‘Jim’ McGreevey was never in the cards. First, he does not belong to The FilAm brand, meaning he is not Filipino American and he most certainly, I thought then, has not done anything remotely connected with the community.

Until several months ago when he began attending Filipino events in New Jersey. I first spotted him at a PAFCOM gala and learned he was running for mayor of Jersey City, the city where Filipinos constitute a vote-rich population of about 20,000 and where a street is named Manila Avenue. Ah, of course. He would grace a theater event and gatherings for nurses, making himself visible. Out of curiosity I asked around if he would be willing to sit down with The FilAm. A kind PAFCOM officer offered to connect us.

McGreevey was born in Jersey City to middle class parents. His father Jack was in the Marines and served in World War II and the Korean War. Upon retirement he worked for a transportation and trucking company. His mother Veronica was a charge nurse at Jersey City Medical Center and a professor of Nursing.

“She met my dad at Seton Hall where he was taking up arts. He wanted to find a wife and he found my mom,” he remarked breezily.

He has two sisters Caroline (McGreevey) Jones and Sharon McGreevey.

McGreevey lives in an old brownstone-type house on a leafy street of Jersey City. His home had dark wood paneling and reeked of the musty scent of old books. His sofa was littered with square pillows. Some parts of his floor creaked. There were sculptures on desks and tables. It was a lovely, charming home where one might imagine artists and writers live.

In 2004, he figured in a highly publicized sex scandal prompting him to step down as governor of New Jersey.

“And so my truth is that I am a gay American,” he declared. 

The media and succeeding lawsuit called it a “homosexual affair” with an Israeli man he tried to appoint for a security position in the governor’s office. He left office quietly and not much has been heard from him since except for a book he wrote in 2006 titled “The Confession.” He remained, at least to me, a quietly intriguing political figure.

As I entered his house, he led me into the kitchen where sunlight was filtering in and offered me a bottle of fruit-flavored water. He opened his fridge and I glanced stacks of rice in bowls, the type that is microwaveable. I asked jokingly, “Don’t you cook your rice the traditional way using a rice cooker?” He just laughed. “No, it’s faster this way.”

We sat by a round dining table with candles flickering in the unlighted room and began our conversation.

The FilAm: I’m curious about your life, how it pivoted after you stepped down as governor in 2004.

Jim McGreevey: It was a difficult time for New Jersey, my family. After you resign you leave New Jersey and you leave the best public housing, namely Drumthwacket (the governor’s official residence). (laughs) I was just trying to figure it out.

What came next has been the focus of my life.  Friends said now you have the opportunity to do something meaningful, something you’ve always wanted to do. For me it was going to seminary. It’s understanding the scripture more deeply, understanding a sense of spirituality, understanding a sense of belonging to my faith.

TF: Have you always wanted to do that? That seemed so remote from your past as a politician.

JM: They say when you’re Irish the default was a priest, poet or politician. (laughs)

Yeah. In high school, I actually registered in Saint Louis University which is a Jesuit university in St. Louis, Missouri. I seriously considered going for the priesthood. My mother thought I was too young to make that decision. I did not make the decision to enter St. Louis, but I went back and forth. When I was in law school in Georgetown, I thought about reentering the Jesuits. There was always a tug, a calling.

TF: How did your life evolve after your resignation?

JM: First I had no money…

TF: How can that be? You were governor. Surely you must have some money.

JM: I was from a working class family. My mom was a nurse. A warm path toward developing close relationship with the Filipino community. My dad was in the U.S. Marine corps. Then he was in the transportation business and logistics, moving freight throughout the country. They were both incredibly hardworking. Never affluent. After leaving the governor’s office I was trying to discern what is my path? It was time of introspection, time of self-examination.

The seminary was three of the best years of my life.  I went to the Episcopalian…General Theological Seminary in Greenwich Village. In retrospect, resignation was singularly the most important and valuable lesson of my life.

TF: During that time you were totally cut off from politics?

JM: Yeah. We were required to do field education. I went to the Cabrini Nursing Home in the Lower East Side. The dean of the seminary recommended I provide assistance to one of the first reentry centers called Exodus that was in Harlem. It served as a combination between having  daily liturgy, studying scripture, studying academic treatises, the intersection of psychology, meaning and faith. It’s fascinating.

So I worked in Cabrini as an assistant at the pastoral ministry, literally with people that were dying. It was a wonderful education on the resilience of life.  

NEXT: An affection for the Filipino community