H
Harry Hope
Guest
From The Washington Post, 11/12/07:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/11/11/AR2007111101585.html?hpid=topnews
'I'll Sell My Soul to the Devil'
Corruption Scandals Involve Alaska's Biggest Political Names
By Karl Vick
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, November 12, 2007; Page A01
ANCHORAGE --
When the FBI came looking for corruption in Alaska politics, it found
an excellent perch in Suite 604 of the Baranof Hotel in Juneau, the
state capital.
There, a profane septuagenarian named Bill Allen did business
throughout a 2006 special session called to set taxes on the oil
industry.
With hundred-dollar bills in his front pocket for ease of access when
lawmakers turned up with their hands out, the oil-services company
executive turned in a bravura performance before the pinhole camera
that federal agents installed opposite his favorite chair.
"Let me count first here," Allen said, shushing a former statehouse
speaker as he counted out a bribe in video footage entered as evidence
in the lawmaker's September trial, one of several crowding the docket
of the federal court here.
On another tape, Pete Kott, the former Republican speaker of the
Alaska House of Representatives, crowed as he described beating back a
tax bill opposed by oil companies.
"I had to cheat, steal, beg, borrow and lie," Kott said.
"Exxon's happy. BP's happy. I'll sell my soul to the devil."
"Well, that will stay in this room," one lobbyist said as a midnight
session wound down.
It did not, of course.
Since breaking into public view a year ago when federal agents raided
lawmakers' offices and homes -- finding $32,200 neatly stacked in a
closet of Kott's condo -- the federal probe has produced four
indictments, three convictions, three guilty pleas and a rapt audience
keen to see how high into Alaska's political hierarchy the rot
reaches.
Officially, the scandal has remained confined to Juneau, where Alaska
lawmakers had grown so accustomed to operating under the presumption
of impropriety that several of them embroidered ball caps with the
letters CBC, for "Corrupt Bastards Club."
(An Anchorage coffeehouse now offers Corrupt Bastards Brew.)
But with signs that the investigation is brushing against Alaska's
lone congressman, Don Young (R), and its longtime and venerated
senator Ted Stevens (R), residents of the Last Frontier are
experiencing a rare spasm of soul-searching.
"These disclosures have come as a real shock, because of revelations
of what was going on, and because Alaskans have always felt that they
are special," said Vic Fisher, 83, one of four surviving members of
the convention that only a half-century ago wrote Alaska's state
constitution.
"And that this thing is ruining our national reputation."
Young, who has represented the nation's largest state in the U.S.
House for 34 years, has not been named in the proceedings -- yet he
reports spending $450,000 on legal fees over the past six months.
Veco, the oil-field services company that Allen owned, was Young's
largest campaign contributor.
Stevens, an iconic figure who has dominated Alaska politics for
decades, has said little publicly since agents swarmed over his
mountainside home, the renovation of which was overseen by Allen.
But Ben Stevens, the senator's son and a former Alaska Senate
president, has been at the center of the scandal from the start.
When Allen pleaded guilty to bribery and conspiracy charges, he stated
that almost a quarter of a million dollars in consulting fees paid to
the younger Stevens was in fact bribery.
"About the only ones that I can trust is you and ol' Ben Stevens," the
oil executive told Kott on one tape.
The younger Stevens maintains his innocence, most recently in a call
to an Anchorage radio talk show that noted he had received fees from
fishing companies that benefited from federal grants his father
engineered.
"I'm under investigation by the Department of Justice, the FBI, the
IRS, the National Marine Fisheries Service," Ben Stevens told KFQD-AM.
"This is a feeding frenzy. Anybody who says anything, this is an
environment where any accusation is . . . is automatic guilt."
The probe has delivered low humor as well as bad behavior.
In one exchange the FBI captured by wiretap, Allen handed a sexual
potency pill and a sleeping pill to Kott -- who later phoned, confused
and upset, after mixing them up.
"Sometimes you try to come up with an exaggeration to make a point,"
said Les Gara, an Anchorage Democrat.
"It's hard to do that here."
Not all the indictments rose from oil money.
Former representative Tom Anderson last month was sentenced to five
years for taking money from a consultant for a company hoping to build
a prison in Alaska; the consultant was working undercover for the FBI.
The Republican lawmaker's only previous brush with the law came when
his girlfriend, a fellow legislator, summoned police as they fought
over bowling scores.
But Alaskans appreciate, on a personal level, the role of petroleum in
their state.
When vast deposits were discovered on the North Slope, the government
negotiated a share of royalties that now accounts for 85 percent of
the state budget.
The windfall not only lets Alaska do away with personal income tax but
also offers annual payments to every one of its 670,000 residents.
This year's check: $1,654.
Dependence on such a mammoth scale naturally affected the dynamic in
Juneau, where the Petroleum Club became the preferred site for
political fundraisers.
"You get this frontier image of individualism, stereotypical bluster,
self-reliance, and it plays right into corrupt politics," said
historian Steve Haycox, author of several books on Alaska.
" 'We don't need advice from anybody else. We don't give a damn about
traditional institutions of American culture. We're just going to do
it our way.' "
The bluster roared in Suite 604, where Allen and his chief lobbyist
plotted strategy and dispensed cash.
"You got any hundreds?" Allen asks an associate before passing a wad
to then-Rep. Vic Kohring, convicted early this month of bribery and
extortion.
"I appreciate that, Bill. Thank you so much," Kohring says warmly.
"What can I do at this point to help you guys? Anything? Just keep
lobbying my colleagues for the governor's plan?"
The footage unspools like a Thomas Nast cartoon come to life, the
grainy images punctuated by Allen's bray, the pop and squeak of a cork
leaving a wine bottle and the sycophantic chortles of lawmakers vying
for Veco's favor.
Veco Vice President Rick Smith, who also pleaded guilty, tried on one
tape to coax Allen toward discretion.
But Allen waved him off, referring to pressure from "clients."
Smith relents:
"You have to get dirty and you have to produce; I understand that."
Alaskans' disappointment with all this has taken several forms.
"It was common knowledge that everything was corrupt," said Ray
Metcalfe, a former Republican legislator known as "Disco Ray" while in
office, but known in later years for his vain efforts to persuade
state officials to investigate Ben Stevens.
"It was common knowledge, but nobody wanted to talk about it."
The brazenness evident on the tapes has taken many aback, however.
"There's a whole kind of culture of unreality," said Michael Carey,
former editorial page editor of the Anchorage Daily News, whose Web
site, http://www.adn.com, posted much of the evidence.
"I always thought there were people on the take, but in the way of
campaign contributions -- traditionally legitimate ways to game the
system."
Indeed, the fallout has some officials wondering what "normal" means
in Alaska politics.
Last month, a Fairbanks Republican accused a mining company of bribing
private citizens by flying them to Anchorage and giving them spending
money.
"I don't know if this is immoral behavior, illegal behavior, unethical
behavior or just raw capitalism," said Rep. Ray Ramras.
In the end, upon encountering one of the men he had accused, "we
hugged it out, like they say on the HBO show 'Entourage.' "
Veco's bribes went to public officials, totaling $400,000, Allen
testified.
But some residents expressed dismay at the puny size of individual
transactions.
Kohring was convicted of taking around $2,000.
"The fact of the matter is, we all want to bribe a politician," said
Mr. Whitekeys, an Anchorage entertainer whose long-running political
cabaret is called the Whale Fat Follies.
"We all thought it'd take a Mercedes or a Porsche. Nobody knew you
could buy a politician for the cost of a used riding lawn mower."
Alaskans also express a regret bordering on shame that the misdeeds
were uncovered by the feds.
The state is deeply ambivalent about Washington.
Thanks in large part to Ted Stevens's seniority, Alaska receives more
federal money per capita than any other state, a situation that tends
to undermine the image of flinty self-reliance.
It also encourages cronyism.
Bob Kaufman, a Web tourism entrepreneur who moved to Anchorage as a
venture capitalist, said that every one of a half-dozen businesses he
researched for acquisition depended on a government subsidy for
profitability.
"Most of the companies up here, I look at them and say, 'I'm not as
valuable as an owner up here, because I don't have any buddies in
politics,' " Kaufman said.
Still, the tapes produced sentiments that overwhelm even resentment
toward Washington.
"I spoke at a meeting of Alaska Conservation Voters recently,
mentioned the FBI -- and people applauded!" said Vic Fisher.
The outrage helped Democrats push through ethics legislation last
session, and in November catapulted a reformer into the governor's
chair.
Republican Sarah Palin was already running on clean government when
the first indictments landed, right between the primary and general
election.
In office, Palin has kept up the drumbeat, last month summoning
lawmakers back for a new special session on the very oil-tax issue
that brought the FBI to Juneau.
In an interview, Palin said she wanted to "clear the legislature's
name" by "allowing legislators the opportunity to revote.
"Those who are left," she added.
__________________________________________________
The Republican Culture of Corruption is alive and well.
Harry
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/11/11/AR2007111101585.html?hpid=topnews
'I'll Sell My Soul to the Devil'
Corruption Scandals Involve Alaska's Biggest Political Names
By Karl Vick
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, November 12, 2007; Page A01
ANCHORAGE --
When the FBI came looking for corruption in Alaska politics, it found
an excellent perch in Suite 604 of the Baranof Hotel in Juneau, the
state capital.
There, a profane septuagenarian named Bill Allen did business
throughout a 2006 special session called to set taxes on the oil
industry.
With hundred-dollar bills in his front pocket for ease of access when
lawmakers turned up with their hands out, the oil-services company
executive turned in a bravura performance before the pinhole camera
that federal agents installed opposite his favorite chair.
"Let me count first here," Allen said, shushing a former statehouse
speaker as he counted out a bribe in video footage entered as evidence
in the lawmaker's September trial, one of several crowding the docket
of the federal court here.
On another tape, Pete Kott, the former Republican speaker of the
Alaska House of Representatives, crowed as he described beating back a
tax bill opposed by oil companies.
"I had to cheat, steal, beg, borrow and lie," Kott said.
"Exxon's happy. BP's happy. I'll sell my soul to the devil."
"Well, that will stay in this room," one lobbyist said as a midnight
session wound down.
It did not, of course.
Since breaking into public view a year ago when federal agents raided
lawmakers' offices and homes -- finding $32,200 neatly stacked in a
closet of Kott's condo -- the federal probe has produced four
indictments, three convictions, three guilty pleas and a rapt audience
keen to see how high into Alaska's political hierarchy the rot
reaches.
Officially, the scandal has remained confined to Juneau, where Alaska
lawmakers had grown so accustomed to operating under the presumption
of impropriety that several of them embroidered ball caps with the
letters CBC, for "Corrupt Bastards Club."
(An Anchorage coffeehouse now offers Corrupt Bastards Brew.)
But with signs that the investigation is brushing against Alaska's
lone congressman, Don Young (R), and its longtime and venerated
senator Ted Stevens (R), residents of the Last Frontier are
experiencing a rare spasm of soul-searching.
"These disclosures have come as a real shock, because of revelations
of what was going on, and because Alaskans have always felt that they
are special," said Vic Fisher, 83, one of four surviving members of
the convention that only a half-century ago wrote Alaska's state
constitution.
"And that this thing is ruining our national reputation."
Young, who has represented the nation's largest state in the U.S.
House for 34 years, has not been named in the proceedings -- yet he
reports spending $450,000 on legal fees over the past six months.
Veco, the oil-field services company that Allen owned, was Young's
largest campaign contributor.
Stevens, an iconic figure who has dominated Alaska politics for
decades, has said little publicly since agents swarmed over his
mountainside home, the renovation of which was overseen by Allen.
But Ben Stevens, the senator's son and a former Alaska Senate
president, has been at the center of the scandal from the start.
When Allen pleaded guilty to bribery and conspiracy charges, he stated
that almost a quarter of a million dollars in consulting fees paid to
the younger Stevens was in fact bribery.
"About the only ones that I can trust is you and ol' Ben Stevens," the
oil executive told Kott on one tape.
The younger Stevens maintains his innocence, most recently in a call
to an Anchorage radio talk show that noted he had received fees from
fishing companies that benefited from federal grants his father
engineered.
"I'm under investigation by the Department of Justice, the FBI, the
IRS, the National Marine Fisheries Service," Ben Stevens told KFQD-AM.
"This is a feeding frenzy. Anybody who says anything, this is an
environment where any accusation is . . . is automatic guilt."
The probe has delivered low humor as well as bad behavior.
In one exchange the FBI captured by wiretap, Allen handed a sexual
potency pill and a sleeping pill to Kott -- who later phoned, confused
and upset, after mixing them up.
"Sometimes you try to come up with an exaggeration to make a point,"
said Les Gara, an Anchorage Democrat.
"It's hard to do that here."
Not all the indictments rose from oil money.
Former representative Tom Anderson last month was sentenced to five
years for taking money from a consultant for a company hoping to build
a prison in Alaska; the consultant was working undercover for the FBI.
The Republican lawmaker's only previous brush with the law came when
his girlfriend, a fellow legislator, summoned police as they fought
over bowling scores.
But Alaskans appreciate, on a personal level, the role of petroleum in
their state.
When vast deposits were discovered on the North Slope, the government
negotiated a share of royalties that now accounts for 85 percent of
the state budget.
The windfall not only lets Alaska do away with personal income tax but
also offers annual payments to every one of its 670,000 residents.
This year's check: $1,654.
Dependence on such a mammoth scale naturally affected the dynamic in
Juneau, where the Petroleum Club became the preferred site for
political fundraisers.
"You get this frontier image of individualism, stereotypical bluster,
self-reliance, and it plays right into corrupt politics," said
historian Steve Haycox, author of several books on Alaska.
" 'We don't need advice from anybody else. We don't give a damn about
traditional institutions of American culture. We're just going to do
it our way.' "
The bluster roared in Suite 604, where Allen and his chief lobbyist
plotted strategy and dispensed cash.
"You got any hundreds?" Allen asks an associate before passing a wad
to then-Rep. Vic Kohring, convicted early this month of bribery and
extortion.
"I appreciate that, Bill. Thank you so much," Kohring says warmly.
"What can I do at this point to help you guys? Anything? Just keep
lobbying my colleagues for the governor's plan?"
The footage unspools like a Thomas Nast cartoon come to life, the
grainy images punctuated by Allen's bray, the pop and squeak of a cork
leaving a wine bottle and the sycophantic chortles of lawmakers vying
for Veco's favor.
Veco Vice President Rick Smith, who also pleaded guilty, tried on one
tape to coax Allen toward discretion.
But Allen waved him off, referring to pressure from "clients."
Smith relents:
"You have to get dirty and you have to produce; I understand that."
Alaskans' disappointment with all this has taken several forms.
"It was common knowledge that everything was corrupt," said Ray
Metcalfe, a former Republican legislator known as "Disco Ray" while in
office, but known in later years for his vain efforts to persuade
state officials to investigate Ben Stevens.
"It was common knowledge, but nobody wanted to talk about it."
The brazenness evident on the tapes has taken many aback, however.
"There's a whole kind of culture of unreality," said Michael Carey,
former editorial page editor of the Anchorage Daily News, whose Web
site, http://www.adn.com, posted much of the evidence.
"I always thought there were people on the take, but in the way of
campaign contributions -- traditionally legitimate ways to game the
system."
Indeed, the fallout has some officials wondering what "normal" means
in Alaska politics.
Last month, a Fairbanks Republican accused a mining company of bribing
private citizens by flying them to Anchorage and giving them spending
money.
"I don't know if this is immoral behavior, illegal behavior, unethical
behavior or just raw capitalism," said Rep. Ray Ramras.
In the end, upon encountering one of the men he had accused, "we
hugged it out, like they say on the HBO show 'Entourage.' "
Veco's bribes went to public officials, totaling $400,000, Allen
testified.
But some residents expressed dismay at the puny size of individual
transactions.
Kohring was convicted of taking around $2,000.
"The fact of the matter is, we all want to bribe a politician," said
Mr. Whitekeys, an Anchorage entertainer whose long-running political
cabaret is called the Whale Fat Follies.
"We all thought it'd take a Mercedes or a Porsche. Nobody knew you
could buy a politician for the cost of a used riding lawn mower."
Alaskans also express a regret bordering on shame that the misdeeds
were uncovered by the feds.
The state is deeply ambivalent about Washington.
Thanks in large part to Ted Stevens's seniority, Alaska receives more
federal money per capita than any other state, a situation that tends
to undermine the image of flinty self-reliance.
It also encourages cronyism.
Bob Kaufman, a Web tourism entrepreneur who moved to Anchorage as a
venture capitalist, said that every one of a half-dozen businesses he
researched for acquisition depended on a government subsidy for
profitability.
"Most of the companies up here, I look at them and say, 'I'm not as
valuable as an owner up here, because I don't have any buddies in
politics,' " Kaufman said.
Still, the tapes produced sentiments that overwhelm even resentment
toward Washington.
"I spoke at a meeting of Alaska Conservation Voters recently,
mentioned the FBI -- and people applauded!" said Vic Fisher.
The outrage helped Democrats push through ethics legislation last
session, and in November catapulted a reformer into the governor's
chair.
Republican Sarah Palin was already running on clean government when
the first indictments landed, right between the primary and general
election.
In office, Palin has kept up the drumbeat, last month summoning
lawmakers back for a new special session on the very oil-tax issue
that brought the FBI to Juneau.
In an interview, Palin said she wanted to "clear the legislature's
name" by "allowing legislators the opportunity to revote.
"Those who are left," she added.
__________________________________________________
The Republican Culture of Corruption is alive and well.
Harry
