In Upstate NY GOP Congressional Race, Smullen’s Radio Tirade Against Anthony Constantino Blows Up in His Face

By: Ariella Haviv

In the brutal theater of modern political campaigns, exaggeration is hardly novel. But what unfolded last week on Albany-area talk radio crossed a far more serious line: the deliberate dissemination of claims that appear to be demonstrably false, reckless, and injurious to the reputation of a political opponent.

During a WGY radio interview with host Bob Lonsberry, NY-21 congressional candidate Robert Smullen leveled a series of accusations against Sticker Mule chief executive Anthony Constantino—assertions that were almost immediately dismantled by public records, photographic evidence, and official documentation. The episode has since become a case study in how mendacity can backfire when facts are not merely disputed, but flatly contradicted by verifiable proof.

Smullen’s most inflammatory charge was that Constantino had “not paid his taxes.” It was a claim delivered casually but with unmistakable intent: to smear his opponent as financially irresponsible, or worse.

Within hours, Constantino responded with documentation that did not merely rebut the accusation but rendered it absurd.

According to Constantino, he had not failed to pay his taxes at all—he had overpaid them. By a staggering margin.

He disclosed that he had received a reimbursement from the U.S. Treasury totaling approximately $10 million, including a single check for $8.3 million. That reimbursement, he said, ranks as the second-largest publicly reported tax refund in American history, surpassed only by President Donald Trump’s $72.9 million reimbursement in 2010.

The logic is irrefutable: a taxpayer who receives one of the largest Treasury reimbursements on record is not someone who “didn’t pay his taxes.” On the contrary, he paid so much that the federal government was legally obligated to return millions.

If Smullen possessed evidence to the contrary, he has not produced it. The charge, as made on air, stands as patently inconsistent with the publicly stated facts.

Smullen did not stop there. During the same interview, he asserted that Constantino had not supported Donald Trump in 2016—a claim that collapses instantly under even the most cursory scrutiny.

Two independent sources demolish this allegation:

First, Federal Election Commission filings show that Constantino made a financial contribution to Trump’s 2016 campaign. That donation was not a footnote in his biography; it was a flashpoint that triggered a coordinated boycott of Sticker Mule by progressive activists at the time, an episode widely discussed in political and business circles.

Second, The New York Times photographed Constantino at Trump’s 2016 inauguration—hardly the behavior of a man who did not support the candidate.

This is not a matter of partisan interpretation. It is documentary evidence. To claim Constantino was not a Trump supporter in 2016 is not merely misleading; it is demonstrably false.

Smullen’s third major allegation—that Constantino is “not from this district”—may be the most mystifying of all.

Constantino has repeatedly stated, and his campaign has documented, that his lifelong home is in Edinburg, New York. There is no suggestion that Smullen was unaware of this fact. Indeed, Edinburg is not a recent convenience address but the place Constantino has identified as home throughout his life.

To accuse an opponent of being an outsider when his roots in the district are well established is not rhetorical flourish; it is disinformation.

Perhaps the most telling moment came not from the candidates themselves, but from Bob Lonsberry, the WGY host who conducted the interview.

The following day, Lonsberry addressed the episode on air, expressing open displeasure with Smullen’s conduct. He explained that Smullen had personally requested the interview and that he had reluctantly agreed despite concerns about ratings. Instead of responding to questions, Smullen immediately pivoted to attacking Constantino—at which point Lonsberry interrupted him with the pointed remark, “I didn’t ask you about that.”

For a seasoned talk-radio host to publicly distance himself from a guest’s performance is extraordinary. It signaled that even within the rough-and-tumble culture of political radio, Smullen’s behavior was perceived as out of bounds.

Constantino’s campaign was equally blunt. Campaign manager Lenny Roudik called the incident a “truly absurd attack,” noting that Constantino’s early and outspoken support for Trump had subjected Sticker Mule employees to years of organized hostility.

“Everyone knows Anthony Constantino is a fierce Trump supporter and has been since the beginning,” Roudik said. “Sticker Mule went through hell over Constantino’s early support of the President. It’s insulting to everyone at Sticker Mule, who endured the Democrat Party’s hate for eight years, that Smullen would lie so egregiously.”

Constantino himself described the episode in starker terms: “Smullen chose to interrupt Lonsberry to make three obvious lies about me and proved that he is a dishonest politician of the worst variety.”

Political campaigns are, by nature, adversarial. But there is a qualitative difference between arguing over policy and propagating claims that are contradicted by the public record.

Smullen’s statements were not framed as speculative. They were delivered as fact. And in each case—tax compliance, Trump support, district residency—the factual predicate of his remarks appears to have been either nonexistent or directly refuted by readily available evidence.

In an era when public trust in institutions is fragile, such conduct is corrosive. It teaches voters that campaigns are not contests of ideas but exercises in distortion. It cheapens legitimate critique and replaces it with character assassination untethered from reality.

If Smullen believes Constantino is unfit for office, he is entitled to argue that case. What he is not entitled to do is manufacture a narrative that collapses under the slightest pressure of documentation.

The radio interview that Smullen requested has now become a cautionary tale. Instead of damaging his opponent, he has drawn attention to the very vice voters increasingly deplore: a willingness to mislead the public for momentary political gain.

In the unforgiving light of evidence, Smullen’s accusations did not merely falter. They disintegrated. And in doing so, they revealed something far more troubling than any charge he sought to level against Anthony Constantino.