Sheldon Silver, speaker of the state Assembly, arrives at the State Office Building in Albany Jan. 8 for Gov. George Pataki's State of the State address.

Known as ''Shelly'' to some colleagues, Silver has been called both a ''tyrant'' and a ''gentleman.''

A Camillus woman whose daughter was murdered called his offer of sympathy cold, insensitive and self-serving.

Assembly Republicans call the state's most powerful Democrat autocratic, aloof and disconnected.

Salina's William Sanford, a Republican Assembly candidate last fall, wagged his finger at a roomful of North Syracuse senior citizens during the campaign and said, ''Sheldon Silver is a bad person.'' Many nodded in agreement.

None of this fazes Silver.

''Sticks and stones. Remember that expression?'' the Manhattan lawmaker said slowly, leaning back in the leather chair in his Capitol office. '''Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.'''

Silver's friends and Democratic colleagues in Central New York describe him as warm, caring, religious, fair, a sports-fanatic, a gentleman who needles with polite jokes, a man they affectionately call "Shelly."

From the Mohawk Valley to the Finger Lakes, critics have called state Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver a tyrant, an emperor, a con artist, and a power grabber.

"I think that there's a misconception of the speaker here in Syracuse that he is a tyrant of sorts, " said Assemblyman William Magnarelli, D-Syracuse. "I feel sometimes that he's just not seen the way he is. I think he's a very caring person, one who understands Upstate New York."

Silver says the criticism is Republican spin.

"It's generally, across the board, the Republicans have a stock campaign, and it's always about Upstate versus Downstate, trying to divide the state, " Silver said. "The governor is very, very partisan in this regard. They've used that on me as if I don't represent them."

Silver is now engaged in the role he is best known for Upstate: antagonist to Gov. George Pataki and the Republican-controlled Senate in the annual state budget ritual.

The cast of characters is familiar: Pataki, the Republican governor newly elected to his third term; Joseph Bruno, the Republican leader of the state Senate since 1995; and Silver, who has led the Assembly since 1994. They are the "three men in a room" who battle each other every year over the spending plan - and always manage to deliver it weeks or months after its April 1 due date.

As usual, Silver will champion what is perceived as the liberal, urban, Downstate position.

Asked what he stands for, Silver ticks off a list of programs that could be cut under Pataki's 2003-2004 budget proposal: "I stand for pre-K (kindergarten). I stand for after-school programs. I stand for (school) building maintenance. I stand for taking care of the elderly in their waning years as far as their health care is concerned. I think we should keep people out of nursing homes, in a cheaper way, with personal care, home care. That's what I stand for."

Silver's Capitol office is unmarked, hidden behind the ornate Assembly chamber. In the lobby there are chandeliers, leather chairs, small tables bearing wrapped mints and, for pleasure reading, a thick copy of the 2003 Legislative Digest, a record of the 226th legislative session.

Caught up in the lobby logjam recently were members of the state's most powerful public employees' and teachers' unions - there to "pick Silver's pockets, " as one lobbyist said to another.

Inside, Silver was seated behind a mostly bare desk in his bare-walled office with five phones, a small refrigerator and a cabinet holding two boxes of Raisin Bran.

"They all endorsed the governor in the election last November. The teacher's union. The police union, " Silver said after he had shaken the last hand and posed for the last photo. "They're all here, a lot of them saying, "What a mistake we made."'

Much of Silver's work is done this way, in private meetings and phone calls. Even when the 150-member Assembly is in session, Silver is in his office, while the speaker pro-tem runs the meeting.

Members use their time with him wisely. Constituents do their homework before presenting their proposals.

"He doesn't have a lot to say when you interact with him, but he's very smart. He has a very good sense of reading people and situations, " said Irwin Davis, executive vice president of the Metropolitan Development Association, a Central New York business development group. "At the end, in very few words, he tells you how it is."

As speaker, Silver has tremendous influence over state money and public policy decisions affecting the almost 19 million New York state residents. Yet Silver often fetches his own meals, insists on driving and opens doors for other people.

"You don't see him with an entourage, " said Assemblywoman Joan Christensen, D-Syracuse. "He's a very unpretentious guy. I don't think Shelly has been seduced by the leadership position."

That doesn't mean he's approachable. He speaks in a serious and slow monotone that is impossible for his colleagues not to imitate behind his back. He is formal in his dress and choice of words.

"He does not look like a warm person. So when he tells a joke, everyone looks around like, "What?"' Christensen said.

Silver, a lifelong resident of lower Manhattan, first came to the Assembly in 1976. He moved into various leadership posts dealing with election reform, crime, drug abuse and, finally, taxes and spending. He became speaker in 1994.

By the end of that year, state voters replaced Democratic Gov. Mario Cuomo with Pataki. The new speaker emerged from Cuomo's shadow as the new top Democrat in state government. In January, he won his fifth term as speaker.

Silver said his greatest rewards are these: He wins year after year. His Democrats win year after year, and increased their Assembly majority to 103 of 150 in the last election.

"I've obviously done the job successfully, " he said. "We're the largest majority perhaps in the last hundred years, if not longer."

Silver, the son of a Russian immigrant hardware store owner, and his wife of 35 years, Rosa, live in an apartment at 550 Grand Street, on the Lower East Side near the Williamsburg Bridge. They have four grown children - three accountants and a college student studying to be a teacher - and eight grandchildren.

Judy Mitrani has been a neighbor for 18 years and has known the Silvers for longer. If she had a problem with state government, which she hasn't, she said she would not go knock on his door. She would call his staff. That's what most neighbors would do, she said.

A two-minute walk from Silver's home is the Bialystoker Synagogue, where Silver worships. At the Orthodox Jewish synagogue, women sit in the balcony and men worship in pews below.

Religion is a significant part of Silver's life. In keeping with tradition, he does not work or travel on Friday nights or on Saturdays. He keeps kosher, often carting frozen meals to Albany restaurants, where the chefs warm them in their ovens.

Silver is known as a relentless fighter for New York City.

"You don't get elected speaker of the state Assembly until you get elected in your own district, " he says.

Yip Ly, who lives in Silver's district, stood outside Assembly chambers during Pataki's January State of the State address to advocate for rent control for New York City tenants. Here's his "city" view of Upstate:

"If New York City did not exist, New York state would not exist, " he said. "All our excess money from revenues coming out of New York City is coming up there, supporting your real estate, your school base, your tax base and all the municipal services, the library, senior citizens services. It goes on and on. New York City has never gotten their fair share."

Silver in many ways reflects the sentiment of his constituents.

"It's significant that the financial capital of the world happens to be in my district, " he said. "It's significant to the state that the district more than pays for whatever it gets from government."

When Silver wants to know what's going on in Central New York, he calls Davis, of the MDA; H. Douglas Barclay, the MDA president and a former Republican senator from Oswego County; or Stephen A. Rogers, editor and publisher of The Post-Standard, who heads a governmental relations committee for the MDA.

Silver also calls Syracuse University Chancellor Kenneth Shaw, Syracuse Mayor Matt Driscoll and mall developer Bob Congel of The Pyramid Cos.

Local leaders say Silver's deal-making is not as visible as it could be on some Central New York projects. In some cases, he chooses to keep it quiet. In other instances, he loses center stage to Pataki.

An example: When Excellus and Hartford Insurance threatened last fall to take 1,500 jobs away from downtown Syracuse because of a lack of parking, Driscoll got on the phone to Silver. Driscoll said it was the first time he asked for a favor from Silver.

Silver called Excellus Chief Executive Officer Howard Berman and asked him to call the mayor. He did. A deal was struck.

Pataki, on the election trail, joined Driscoll at a press conference to announce a $7 million state grant to build two parking garage projects that would keep the jobs downtown.

Silver did not attend.

"I don't want to lose sight of the fact that the city of Syracuse is represented by some very capable legislators and they deserve the praise, " he said.

Silver's bad rap among some in Central New York may stem from Downstate/Upstate prejudices. Maybe it's his personality.

"It might have something to do with a collision course with a man named Michael Bragman, " said state Sen. Nancy Larraine Hoffmann, a Democrat-turned-Republican.

Bragman, of Cicero rose to majority leader in the Assembly and in 2000 unsuccessfully tried to overthrow Silver. Bragman said Silver's leadership was out of date, ineffective and too tightly controlled.

In response, Silver stripped Bragman of his title and cut his office staff and perks.

"What I did to Mike Bragman? That's an old story, " Silver said. "I got more votes than he did. Mike Bragman chose to challenge me as speaker and I got more votes. Plain and simple. It was the end of the day. Mike Bragman was humiliated."

Two years later, the fallout was evident in the race between Sanford and Christensen. The two incumbents wound up in the same district after state legislators - with Silver's blessing - drew new district boundaries.

Sanford pitched himself as a reformer, willing to stand up to Silver.

In a debate, Sanford said, "I am running against Shelly Silver, and by running against Shelly Silver I am running against you. You had a very strong advocate in Mike Bragman, who did a very good job down there, but Mike is gone, and now your advocate is Sheldon Silver."

Christensen fired back, "That is a lie."

For her siding with Bragman, Silver had taken away Christensen's committee assignments and pay bonuses. But she found herself in the odd position of having to defend him. Silver sent her campaign staff and money.

Christensen won the election. Silver had the furniture and office supplies shipped from Sanford's district office to Albany two and a half weeks before his term came to a close.

But Silver still hasn't returned Christensen's committee posts and bonuses.

In 1998, Silver made the news in Syracuse as the man who stalled action on "Jenna's Law, " a bill to curtail parole for violent felons. Janice and Bruce Grieshaber, of Camillus, lobbied for the bill, named for their 22-year-old daughter, who was killed by a parolee in 1997 in her Albany apartment.

Janice Grieshaber said she remembers Silver as the cold man who left them waiting and hoping in Assembly chambers until midnight on the last day of session, while hundreds of other pieces of legislation came up for a vote. Finally, an aide for Pataki passed them a note that said there would be no vote that day on Jenna's Law.

The first time the Grieshabers met Silver, he told them he knew so exactly how they felt.

"He was talking about Jenna, " Janice remembered. "I looked at him and said, "Have you lost a child?' I knew he hadn't. What a stupid thing to say. It's the one thing people know not to say. As a mother of a murdered child, I don't even say that to other parents."

Christensen said Silver, like all leaders, expects a certain amount of criticism. "He doesn't care if people don't like him, " she said. "But he doesn't want people to hate him."

Silver says he is not worried about his image among Central New Yorkers.

"As long as the members keep getting re-elected, " he said. "Obviously, it doesn't affect Bill Magnarelli and it doesn't affect Joan Christensen. That's all that counts."

The man

Age: 59

Home: Lower East Side, Manhattan

Job: Assembly Speaker; personal injury lawyer.

Assembly salary: Base pay $79,500; speaker stipend, $41,500. He has not made his lawyer's salary public.

Political experience: Elected to Assembly in 1976; appointed chair of Assembly Ways and Means Committee in 1992; first elected speaker in 1994. Silver won the last two elections in his district with 93 percent of the vote in 2002 and 85 percent in 2000. He faced Green Party candidates.

Campaign account balance: $2.3 million

Education: Graduate of Yeshiva University and Brooklyn Law School

Family: Wife, Rosa, a public elementary school teacher, four children, eight grandchildren

The opinions

Here is a sampling of what some Central New Yorkers have had to say about Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver in letters to The Post-Standard during the past three years:

"Silver has been a part of the troika that has delivered a budget late for 17 years. His heavy-handed control has delivered millions of our tax dollars to the Big Apple at upstate's expense. He appears to have a propensity to punish his fellow legislators for daring to represent their constituencies."

Patrick J. Ryan, Jamesville

"Silver is of that tired old left-wing liberal club that arrogantly believes they know more than we do. Their opinion of us lowly citizens is that we don't have the brains to handle such things as coming up with a good idea to help our state run smoother. Mike Bragman had some new ideas and look what happened to him - and he was one of their fellow Assembly Democrats. The powers that be did everything but order a hit on him."

Bill Iocco, Liverpool

"Sheldon Silver should have been gone years ago."

Thelma H. Snyder, Fulton

"We have to put a stop to Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver's authoritarian rule and his unwillingness to work with the governor and the state Senate to get things done. Silver is a key barrier to lowering taxes and spending in New York and getting on-time budgets."

Dave Traub, Cicero

"Oh, you foolish people of Central and Upstate New York! Beware of the two greatest con artists who ever prowled New York state: Carl McCall and Sheldon Silver."

Paul Esposito, Manlius

"Does Democracy exist in Albany or in any other form of federal, state, county or city government? I believe that the vile behavior of New York Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver has shown us, the taxpayers and voters, that these politicians care only about themselves. They practice and play games to enrich themselves like dictators."

Paolo Saltarello, Auburn

"We do not need a dictator. We want someone working for all the people, regardless of party. The game that Sheldon Silver is playing in Albany is not an example of the way our government should be working."

Ruth Harrison, North Syracuse

The power

Sheldon Silver is one of the three most powerful officials in state government, along with the governor and Senate majority leader. The Senate majority leader and Assembly speaker control the flow of legislation; distribute millions in campaign cash to colleagues; and decide on members' staff and supply allotments, committee chairmanships and lucrative stipends. With the governor, they also essentially decide the annual state budget.

Silver oversees a $102.5 million Assembly budget and shares responsibility with the state senate for a legislative budget of $16.7 million. He employs 26 people in his Albany and district offices and in the Assembly Majority press office. Including his salary, Silver's offices cost taxpayers $1,452,487.46 a year.