BY PETER BRONSON
The Cincinnati Enquirer
"Chuey" was the brightest bulb in the barrio until he sold his soul for a shrimp stand. Straightarrow Jim scraped by on Food Stamps to avoid taking a salary from special interests -- then sold his integrity and his elected office for the price of a car payment.
They were Arizona state lawmakers I knew, caught in an FBI sting called "AzScam." Undercover lawmen posed as mobsters and waved around rolls of cash to bribe votes for a fictitious casino. Some of the least expected -- and most respected -- politicians came running to the smell of money like barn cats climbing all over a spilled milk can.
Chuey agreed to sell out if he could run a shrimp stand in the new casino he voted for. Jim -- well, he had bills to pay, and I suppose he's still paying.
There were plenty of others. Slick movers and shakers, up-and-comers, stuffed suits with futures.
And there were some whose skin crawled as soon as they got in a room with the oily operators who passed out C-notes like business cards, in front of hidden cameras. Alerted by built-in ethical radar, they said "No way."
The same thing happened in Kentucky in 1992. "BopTrot," another FBI sting, hooked another string of Hall of Shame lawmakers who sold votes for quick bucks. Fifteen House members and the highest ranking state senator were busted for taking bribes from horse-racing lobbyists who ratted to the FBI.
It makes me wonder . . . How many times before that did they sell out the people they were elected to represent? If it happened so easily in Kentucky and Arizona, couldn't it happen anywhere? What do we have to do to clean out the statehouse -- drag a roll of cash on a string through the capitol each year, and lock the door behind anyone who runs after it?
There has to be a better way to keep a sharp eye on lawmakers. But most of us just don't have the time or patience.
Sending lawmakers to the capitol is a lot like sending your kids to camp. You don't really want to hear a detailed description of every stitch in that crafts-class leather wallet they brought home. You don't want to hear about every rainy day and all the fish that got away. You just want to be assured that they participated, did their best, accomplished a few things and did not embarrass you so bad you can never send them back.
You can live with a tipped canoe, short-sheeting their bunkmates -- but not getting caught in a sleeping bag with some Campfire girl or stealing extra helpings from the cafeteria.
They always insist they have behaved -- and we have to take their word for it. If we could be in Columbus or Frankfort every day to watch them, we wouldn't have to elect them to go there for us.
That's why the Enquirer editorial staff came up with the next best thing to being there: We asked lawmakers to report on each other. For balance, we included the press and lobbyists.
The report card was designed by Enquirer editorial writer Ray Cooklis, who studied similar surveys in several states. As far as we know, we're the first newspaper to do this in Ohio. The results are surprising and informative.
And they should be especially helpful here in Cincinnati, where "state lawmaker" has for years been a missing link in the chain of political evolution.
I was surprised when I came here six years ago to learn that 500 years after Columbus discovered America, Cincinnati still had not discovered Columbus.
Nobody here cared that Ohio had a state capitol. As long as we had our own Santa Claus (former Senate President Stanley Aronoff), Christmas came every year, without even writing to the North Pole. But in the past few years, Cincinnati has been getting wise. Now that we have billions in bills for new stadiums and road projects, we have figured out there is a deep cash drawer in Columbus, filled with our money. But we still don't know who has the keys.
Today, readers can find out who's who in Columbus, as rated by people they work with.
There were no big shocks, but the results remind us that lawmakers are three-dimensional; they are not always what we see on the surface. The same guy described by reporters as "washed up," and "sleazy, but lacking the slick veneer," was described by lobbyists as "a hard worker with great knowledge."
Some may protest our grades. But we hope most will be glad that our General Assembly is being watched by someone -- whose initials are not FBI.
Peter Bronson is editorial page editor of The Enquirer. If you have questions or comments, call 768-8301, or write to 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati, Ohio 45202.
BRONSON ARCHIVE
