In fact, while this idealist, who once ordered his officers not to accept free coffee at 7-Elevens, became widely popular with the men and women in his command, his hopscotch from Nassau to Yonkers to Westchester to Stamford, Conn., and finally Suffolk was largely due to confrontations with politicians. In 1992, Guido once and for all turned in his badge, deeply offended after a Suffolk legislator called him a liar, the ultimate insult. He was staunch in his devotion to honesty, said his son, Michael, of Dix Hills. He was on a mission. He was going to make change.
Geniuses often have to die before they become appreciated.
Robert Moses couldn't wait that long. Whoever lives on Long Island or in New York City has been touched by the man they called The Master Builder. Before there was Robert Moses, there was an emptiness. He filled this void with billions of dollars worth of bridges, tunnels, parkways, expressways, power projects, public housing, sandy beaches, concert halls and tens of thousands of acres of parkland. More than any other single individual, this one man shaped Long Island as we know it, in its modern form, Moses' biographer, Robert A. Caro, once said.