Ethics and the Capitol FBI Sting : Legislative Corruption Difficult to Prove

Television actor Ed Asner got an abrupt lesson in real-life politics when he was working the halls of the state Capitol one day seeking votes for a bill that would help the Hollywood film industry.

It was the kind of incident--there are many such tales in the Capitol--that undoubtedly inspired the FBI to launch its sting operation aimed at snaring corrupt legislators engaged in extortion, or soliciting bribes.

Because he was a celebrity and also president of the Screen Actors Guild at the time, Asner was granted a private meeting with the chairman of an important committee. The meeting was to be brief, so Asner wasted no time in getting to the point and explaining what his bill was all about once he had been ushered into the legislator’s office.

But the committee chairman seemed distracted. As Asner talked, the lawmaker sat behind his desk, a serious look on his face, shuffling through some papers. “I don’t see that you people have attended any of my dinners,” the legislator said suddenly.

Asner agreed this was probably correct, then continued to talk about the merits of his bill that would encourage film production and create more jobs for Hollywood actors. The legislator, however, insisted on talking about the fact that neither Asner nor the Screen Actors Guild had bought any tickets to his political fund-raising dinners.

“Oh, I see,” said Asner, his face now flushed, and slamming his hand on the desk. “I see. We have to buy the bill. We have to buy it.” The actor turned and walked out, according to two participants in the meeting, neither of whom wanted to be identified.

Later that day, as Asner was testifying before the committee, the chairman scribbled a note to the actor and sheepishly sent it to him, the sources added. The note said that the lawmaker was sorry if he had offended Asner and hoped they could be friends. Slowly, deliberately Asner tore the note into pieces in front of the committee members and dropped it on the carpet.

Had the legislator in this episode committed extortion by soliciting a bribe? Probably not. At least a prosecutor would have had a very hard time proving the law had been broken. But the legislator was guilty--by most political standards--of unethical conduct by pointedly noting that the actor had never given him a campaign contribution.

“Political extortion and bribery are exceedingly difficult to prove,” said Chief Assistant Atty. Gen. Steve White, echoing the view of most prosecutors and politicians. “In fact, it’s virtually impossible to prove unless there is an independent witness to the transaction.” Illustrative of this is the fact that the FBI’s current investigation of the Legislature is its third in 10 years, and so far only one legislator has been indicted.

Targeted Senator

The first probe, begun in 1977, targeted then-Sen. Alfred H. Song (D-Monterey Park). But after a two-year investigation, agents could not dig up enough evidence to charge the senator. Two men tied to Song were prosecuted, but their trials ended in hung juries.

The FBI returned to the Capitol in 1983 to begin its most extensive investigation ever of California elected officials. In all, 11 men--including fireworks magnate W. Patrick Moriarty, local government officials, a banker and former Assemblyman Bruce Young (D-Norwalk)--were convicted on bribery, fraud and other charges.

But no indictments ever were brought against other legislators implicated in the four-year Moriarty case. Moreover, a recent U.S. Supreme Court decision severely limiting the use of mail fraud statutes in political corruption cases could still result in overturning Young’s conviction.

Known legislative targets of the current three-year investigation are Assemblywoman Gwen Moore (D-Los Angeles); Assembly Republican Leader Pat Nolan of Glendale; Sen. Joseph B. Montoya (D-Whittier); Assemblyman Frank Hill (R-Whittier) and former Democratic Sen. Paul Carpenter of Cypress, now a member of the State Board of Equalization.

The secret sting--involving phony companies, well-placed videotape equipment, undercover agents posing as businessmen with wads of money and at least one legislative aide who turned informant--became public knowledge on Aug. 24 when roughly 30 federal agents staged an overnight raid of the Capitol, searching four legislators’ offices and interrogating at least one staff member.

To prove political corruption, federal prosecutors will need convincing evidence of a quid pro quo-- three Latin words that every politician learns, meaning something for something.

Perfectly Legal

“It’s not against the law to carry a bill for somebody, or vote for a bill, and also accept a campaign contribution or honorarium from that person,” said a veteran lobbyist, who asked not to be identified.

“The mistake is to let someone tape-record or videotape you saying you’ll carry a bill, or vote for it, only if the person gives you a campaign contribution or an honorarium. That’s against the law. So if a legislator has a halfway normal IQ, he can get around the law easily.”

Sen. William Campbell (R-Hacienda Heights), who was first elected to the Legislature in 1965, explained it this way:

“If you say to somebody, ‘We’re having a fund-raiser and would like your support,’ and that person says, ‘You carried our bill and we appreciate it,’ you have to interrupt and say, ‘No, that’s not the reason you should buy a ticket. We’d like to think it’s because you support the philosophy we represent in Sacramento.’ ”

Campbell continued: “If somebody comes into your office and tells you, ‘We’d like you to carry a bill and we’re prepared to raise $10,000 for you to carry that bill,’ you have to ask that person to leave. You can’t have anything to do with that person.”

That’s the kind of toe-dance, tightrope finessing the adroit politicians and lobbyists play in Sacramento, talking a special language that fills in the unspoken words and sentences with implied understandings. It is a political tongue taught by one generation to the next and smoothed with practice.

“It’s subtle,” said John Keplinger, a former adviser to the late Treasurer Jesse Unruh, staff director of the Fair Political Practices Commission and now executive secretary of the state Pooled Money Investment Board. “When somebody’s lobbying a legislator, the legislator somehow remembers he has a dinner coming up.”

An Increase in Corruption?

There is a question now constantly being asked around the Capitol, an age-old question, really: Is this Legislature less ethical--more corrupt--than its predecessors? There seems to be no consensus, except for the general feeling that if things have changed over the last decade or two, it has been for the worse.

Robert T. Monagan, a Republican Assembly Speaker in the late 1960s who now heads the California Economic Development Corp. and retains close ties to the Capitol, asserted--as many did in interviews--that today’s legislators “are preoccupied with getting reelected” because, unlike the old breed, they tend to be career politicians dependent on public office for a livelihood. Compounding this, he noted, is the growth in special-interest groups and the fact that a lot more political money is available.

“There’s more opportunity for being unethical,” he said. “I don’t think legislators individually are any more unethical today, but their exposure to the possibilities has so multiplied that you come to the conclusion that, as a whole, they are more unethical.”

Campbell said: “I don’t think the answer is ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Human nature being what it is, we’re probably about the same. Maybe the opportunities have changed. There’s a greater opportunity for the system to become abused.”

One important Capitol staff person, who has worked both in the Legislature and in the governor’s office over the last 20 years, said: “Sometimes people tend to romanticize the old days. I wouldn’t say the institution was any better then. There were people then who shouldn’t have been here, and there are people today who shouldn’t be here.”

But a veteran, well-regarded lobbyist, who spoke only on condition that he not be identified, echoed the view of many when he said: “There is no question that the influence of money in the Capitol is growing.”

One very real problem for legislators is that the cost of campaigning has soared dramatically in the last two decades, due to more reliance on radio/television advertising and increasingly sophisticated computer technology that permits extensive polling and mail to be targeted at specific voters.

Since 1958, when candidates for the Assembly and Senate spent $1.4 million collectively, the cost of running for an average legislative seat has skyrocketed. The total tab came to a record $57.1 million in the last primary and general elections.

Back in 1962, Monagan recalled, he was the No. 1 target for Democrats when he faced his first reelection fight in an overwhelmingly Democratic district in the San Joaquin Valley. “The election cost $25,000,” he said. “Do you know why it cost $25,000? It’s all we could raise.”

That’s a far cry from the 1986 elections, when a victorious Assembly candidate spent an average of $379,000. And even seasoned politicos were stunned by the cost of one race that year in Sacramento County, where Republican winner Tim Lesie and Democratic loser Jack Dugan each spent about $1 million.

“That’s crazy, that’s insane,” Keplinger said. “Where’s that money coming from? It comes from someone who wants something.”

While campaign costs have skyrocketed, more and more business, labor and other special-interest groups with much at stake in the Capitol have been arriving with a seemingly inexhaustible reservoir of money.

Since 1975 when the Fair Political Practices Commission began keeping records, the number of organizations that employ lobbyists in Sacramento has risen nearly 40% to a total of 1,314. There were 660 registered lobbyists walking the halls of the Capitol in 1975. Today there are 1,038.

“A lot of people, myself included, contribute to candidates who they think are going to be good legislators, or good governors or good Presidents,” Chief Asst. Atty. Gen. White said. “But when you are sponsoring legislation and contribute huge amounts of money to the very people who are deciding the very fate of that legislation, the dynamic is altogether different. . . . When you get this kind of crucible of money and demand for it, you’re going to produce some scary results with any group of people.”

Sen. H. L. Richardson (R-Glendora), who is retiring this year after 22 years in the Legislature, put it more bluntly: “When you create a monetary dung heap, don’t be surprised that flies show up.”

One of the most pernicious trends in Sacramento, many believe, is the growth in honorariums collected by legislators. It came as no surprise in the Capitol that the phony companies set up by the FBI offered speech-making fees as bait to hook unsuspecting lawmakers.

Money from honorariums, unlike campaign contributions, goes directly into the lawmakers’ pockets. There are no limits on how it can be spent, as long as it is publicly disclosed and reported to the IRS. But, like campaign funds, the money from honorariums comes from the same influential special-interest groups that constantly look to the Legislature for favors.

Tom Houston, a Los Angeles attorney who headed the FPPC from 1979-83, said “the practice of giving (honorariums) has exploded, just exploded, and it’s become a way of life for legislators to make a decent living.”

Once Were Rare

Honorariums used to be so rare in the Capitol that the FPPC did not even bother keeping track of the money until 1979, when the 120 members of both houses collectively reported receiving $52,000. By 1984, the honorariums had grown to $350,000. By last year, they had doubled to $722,000. Assembly Speaker Willie Brown (D-San Francisco) led the crowd, raking in $161,000 in 1987 alone. (This year’s totals will not be available until next March.)

It is not just the incredible sum of money but the way it is collected that worries many people. Legislators are not just responding to speaking invitations, sources said, but are actively soliciting speaking fees from lobbyists and, in some cases, not even delivering a speech.

“It’s the worst abuse in Sacramento,” Keplinger said. “A guy can be invited to come to a meeting and he just shows up, walks into the door and he gets an honorarium. It’s not illegal, but what is it?”

Richardson tells this story:

“I got an invitation from this organization to go to its meeting and give a speech. I thought it was terrific. And then I found out the whole damn Legislature was invited. I show up at this fancy place near Santa Rosa and they put me on a panel. So I decided to sit there and not say a damn word. And I did. I didn’t answer a question. No one asked me a question. And I got $2,500. They sure as hell didn’t invite me for my opinion. I just showed up and smiled. That was the first time. It was the last one, too.”

Ethical questions have been raised about many speech-making invitations that, in reality, seem to be little more than excuses to stuff lawmakers’ pockets.

In 1984, for example, Democratic Assemblyman Jim Costa of Fresno received $3,000 for a dinner discussion he had with representatives of five real estate-related firms about a rent control bill he had introduced.

Paid to Sit

The same year, the California Cable Television Assn. invited 21 lawmakers to conventions in Las Vegas and Anaheim, expenses paid, and gave each a $500 honorarium for agreeing to sit down with cable TV operators from their districts.

Questions of ethics were raised last year when the California Correctional Peace Officers Assn. presented $10,000 “awards” to two legislators who had played key rolls in passage of a bill authorizing construction of a state prison on Los Angeles’ Eastside.

The president of the association said the money was given to Republican Assemblywoman Sunny Mojonnier of Encinitas for her “heroic act” in leaving a sickbed to cast a crucial vote on the bill. The other “award” went to Democratic Sen. Robert B. Presley of Riverside, the bill’s author, for what the association said was his support over the years.

In the spring of 1985, as the FBI was gearing up for its Capitol sting, Sen. Montoya was describing to a reporter how he studied FPPC reports to find out which organizations were offering honorariums to his colleagues.

“You start asking yourself, ‘If they gave to this guy or gal, why didn’t they give to me?’ ” said Montoya, whose office was among those raided by agents. “I like people to give to me, and they know it will be recorded and I will live with the political flak that ensues.”

At the time, Montoya, chairman of the Business and Professions Committee, reported collecting $13,250 in speech-making fees. Last year, that sum had grown to $33,500. Among Montoya’s most recent honorariums was $3,000 from Peachstate Capital West Ltd., one of the mythical companies run by the FBI.

Walter Zelman, California director of Common Cause, who has been advocating political reform for several years, told a press conference last Thursday just after the Legislature had adjourned for the year:

“The real story of corruption is the constant, pervasive bending of rules by people under enormous pressure to raise money. You have to be blind not to see it. You know it, I know it and legislators know it. The reality is, the majority of them are not prepared to do anything about it.”

Times staff writers Carl Ingram and Jerry Gillam contributed to this story.