By Scott Brinton
Kessel, of Merrick, was all of 24 years old. The Watergate scandal loomed over the nation. Cancer had stricken Kessel's mother, and he wanted to win elective office to fight for greater cancer-research funding.
As a Democratic committeeman living in Merrick -- that is, in the heart of Nassau County's Republican territory -- Kessel was a longshot for any elective office, but he decided he'd go for it anyway.
He considered a run for Congress. The Democratic Party, however, wouldn't let him. Party officials believed they had a chance at the House of Representatives' Third District seat, given that the GOP was floundering in Watergate's wake. The party decided the time wasn't right for a political unknown like Kessel to seek a Congressional slot.
On the state level, Kessel recalled, "No one wanted to run against Norman Levy" -- the well-loved, now legendary Republican state senator from Merrick who was considered unbeatable.
So the Democratic Party let Kessel take a shot at Levy, whom Kessel had grown up down the street from on Merrick Avenue and whom he considered a political mentor and confidant. Kessel was a sacrificial lamb for Levy, and he knew it. During the race, however, Kessel discovered the singular issue that would shape his circuitous career and help determine Long Island's very future: the Long Island Lighting Company.
After two decades of railing against LILCO's exorbitant electric rates and deftly maneuvering risky political waters to become and remain the LIPA chairman, Kessel oversaw the authority's 18-month takeover of LILCO in 1997-98.
LIPA, which now has an annual budget of $2.3 billion, recently celebrated its five-year anniversary as Long Island's public electric utility. And at LIPA's expansive offices overlooking Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum in Uniondale, Kessel seems at the top of his game as he reviews a deal by phone to have an "off-Island" electric provider build a "baseload" power plant (one large enough to light 500,000 homes) at a still-undetermined site.
The 53-year-old chairman, described by those close to him as affable, well-spoken and very strong-willed, was once called Nassau County's "LILCO gadfly." Today he's a popular quasi-political figure who courts -- and wins -- favor with both the Democratic and Republican parties. He's known as a huge sports fan, and memorabilia, from Super Bowl seat cushions to autographed posters of various professional athletes, adorns his office.
Kessel married last weekend, but he doesn't wish to speak of his nuptials, politely asking that his private life remain private.
The chairman, who in recent years moved back to Merrick after living in Bellmore for two decades, speaks of LIPA with a salesman's zeal. He hammers home the point that the authority is a state agency that isn't beholden to stock shareholders the way LILCO was. As such, the not-for-profit power authority acts only in the interest of its ratepayers, Kessel says.
By refinancing LILCO's debt, primarily accumulated via the Shoreham nuclear power plant debacle, LIPA instantly reduced Long Island's electric rates by 20 percent in 1998. At the same time, it issued $200 million in rebate checks to ratepayers for overpayment of taxes on the Shoreham plant.
LIPA, the first five years
Over the past five years, Long Island's electric rates have plummeted from the highest in the nation to around 35th, says Kessel. "I'd love to be 100th or 200th in the country," he says. And the chairman appears earnest when he says he hopes to get there someday.
The myriad challenges of powering an island as large and populous as Long Island, without the benefit of reliable electric cables from the mainland, are costly to overcome, however.
Just over 2 1/2 years ago, Kessel hired his childhood friend and fellow Merokean Ed Grilli as his chief of staff. Originally, Grilli, who was spokesman for Nassau District Attorney Denis Dillon, was supposed to run the daily operations at LIPA's Uniondale headquarters. And in many ways, he still does.
Grilli, however, has become LIPA's chief negotiator as the authority seeks to recruit energy companies from across the nation to build and rebuild Long Island's power plants.
And the task at hand is daunting.
According to Grilli, LILCO had allowed its infrastructure to atrophy, building no new power plants for 10 years and making repairs during emergencies only, in hopes of squeezing a profit out of a money-losing utility.
LIPA has aggressively pursued construction of new power plants across the Island to keep up with the burgeoning demand for electricity. "Ten percent of [Long Island's] overall power generation needs have been addressed over the last two years," Grilli says.
He and Kessel note that despite the soft economy, people are still enlarging their homes and adding energy-gobbling amenities to them like central air conditioning. And in Suffolk County, much as in Nassau during the 1950s, housing developments are going up as fast as farmland can be cleared.
Neither Kessel nor Grilli expects the Island's construction boom to slow anytime soon. So its energy needs should only continue to grow, meaning an ever-greater number of power plants is inevitable for the foreseeable future. "Electricity use is going through the roof," says Kessel.
Sealing the deals to build new plants is tough work. Grilli has to allay the often irate residents who don't want them constructed in their backyards, while also negotiating "purchase-power agreements" with the energy providers. With such contracts, LIPA commits to buy electricity from the providers, which build and own the power plants. (LIPA isn't building any of its own plants these days.)
Alternative energy and the future
LIPA is also exploring alternative-energy sources. It wants an energy company to build the Atlantic coast's first offshore wind farm, roughly three miles off Jones Beach. Thus far, the proposal has found support among many environmentalists and Merrick-Bellmore residents who don't want to see more power plants built because of the health and environmental risks they pose.
The wind farm, however, has raised the ire of open-space advocates who contend that the collection of windmills, which would rise 22 stories into the air, would destroy the view of the Atlantic from Jones Beach.
LIPA also recently oversaw construction of the world's largest commercial solar-energy installation, in Farmingdale. And at a handful of businesses, it has developed small geothermal projects, which use water trapped far below the surface to cool or heat a building.
Alternative-energy technology, however, is in its infancy, and is nowhere near capable of becoming the Island's main power supplier. The Farmingdale solar project, for example, is huge, but can only light the office building upon which it rests, or 1,000 homes.
The power authority has pursued construction of one or more underwater cables to supply the Island with electricity from the mainland, hoping they would reduce the need for power plants. Most notable among them is the cross-Sound cable, which has been built, but its use has been delayed so far by Connecticut lawmakers, who contend that the cable would unfairly siphon much-needed electricity from their state. The authority has also sought a cable or cables on the South Shore, but hasn't yet been able to finalize a deal.
LIPA faces another, perhaps equally difficult challenge -- shedding LILCO's image as a tired, uncaring behemoth that gouged its ratepayers. That job largely belongs to Bert Cunningham, LIPA's vice president of communications.
Whenever and wherever Cunningham can, he directs people to LIPA's Web site -- www.lipower.org -- which contains a "wealth of information" about the authority and makes clear the differences between LILCO and LIPA.
Still, the power authority remains a mystery to many people. After five years, Long Islanders "are still trying to understand" LIPA, Cunningham says.
Kessel, however, says folks should understand two things -- he and the power authority remain committed to keeping electric rates stable and the lights on.
