ORANGE COUNTY IN BANKRUPTCY : Behind-the-Scenes Player Lewis Now on Center Stage

Steve E. Lewis has worked his entire adult life in the same office.

He started in 1965 as a bottom-rung accountant in the Orange County auditor-controller’s office, earning $545 a month. For the past decade, he has been the auditor-controller himself, now commanding $104,582 a year--16 times his original salary.

Respected throughout county government for his honesty, integrity and willingness to challenge peers in management and budgetary audits, Lewis, 52, has long been a low-profile bureaucrat with few enemies.

But in the weeks since the county became the largest municipality in American history to file for bankruptcy, Lewis’ name has emerged from the shadows, both as the hero who first raised concerns about apparent irregularities in the county treasurer’s operations and as a defendant in several class-action lawsuits by angry bondholders. In addition, his office was included in the district attorney’s recent seizure of boxloads of documents.

“It gets to you when you’re putting in 14- and 15-hour days. He puts in those hours, and on top of that he’s got his name there. There’s that added stress,” said Chuck Hulse, who has worked with Lewis for two decades and served since 1984 as his chief deputy.

Investigators have given no indication that Lewis is a target of their inquiry; speculation is that they were pursuing audit documents in their investigation of other county officials. In fact, in audits dating back a dozen years, Lewis was a lonely voice raising questions about the county’s aggressive investment strategy, asking for tighter controls on then-Treasurer-Tax Collector Robert L. Citron’s office and suggesting in his most recent audit, released in 1993, that Citron might be bending the law.

“He’s just tired and saddened by it all,” Hulse said of his boss. “But in terms of ‘Did he do his job?’ he feels like he did. We’re satisfied that we did our best. We’re only scared about what’s going to happen to the county because of all of this.”

As auditor-controller, Lewis oversees about 450 employees and a budget of nearly $22 million. His office prepares the county’s financial statements, does accounting and disburses funds for every department, and conducts periodic audits--both budgetary and managerial--for every county program.

Born in Corona, Lewis is a lifelong Californian who received a bachelor’s degree in accounting from San Diego State University in 1965.

Lewis declined to be interviewed for this story. But those who have worked closely with or for him describe Lewis as a casual manager who answers his own phone whenever he’s not on it, and insists that employees call him by his first name. His reputation around the Civic Center is as shiny as the row of 14 plaques from the Government Finance Officers Assn. that line the entryway to his department.

“He’s straight arrow. Maybe the original straight arrow,” said County Clerk-Recorder Gary A. Granville.

Lewis emerged at the top of a cadre of administrators--including John Wayne Airport Manager Jan Mittermeier, budget director Fred Branca, General Services Agency chief Bert Scott and public administrator Bill Baker--who grew up in county government under the tutelage of longtime Auditor-Controller Vic Heim.

It was Lewis who lasted longest in the auditor-controller’s office, Lewis who became Heim’s right hand when his chief deputy retired, and Lewis who was tapped to replace him in 1984. In the three elections since, Lewis, a Republican, has never had an opponent.

“I trusted him, and I really still do,” Heim said. “In county government, there are a number of offices that have to have absolute integrity, and the auditor-controller’s one of them. We had that reputation, and I think Steve’s continued that.”

Before the bankruptcy filing, Lewis was best known for his conservatism in approving expenses--for himself as well as others.

In 1992, he reported accepting only $570 in gifts--$300 of which was the estimated value of two nights he spent at a Palm Springs time-share owned by his chief deputy.

The previous year, he tangled publicly with the pension board after refusing to approve $5,000 in receipts--for opera tickets, dry cleaning, alcoholic beverages and extra hotel nights--from a 26-day European tour by half a dozen board members and administrators.

Personnel Director Patton recalled his own run-in with the tight-fisted auditor after he once ordered pizza for dozens of employees who worked through the dinner hour enrolling county employees in a new benefits program.

“I submitted the bill for $75 worth of pizza for 20 people working late, and he rejected the bill saying I did not have the authority to order the pizza,” Patton said with a chuckle. “Myself and the benefits manager had to chip in and split the bill.”

At times, the job invites controversy. Back in 1987, Lewis and Citron--also a lifelong county employee--made headlines together when they suggested that Sheriff Brad Gates give up his beloved police helicopters to save the county $1.5 million. In the county’s bankruptcy, Lewis is named as a defendant in several lawsuits that accuse a broad sweep of county officials of misleading investors about the risks of the county pool.

Lewis has often been the bearer of bad budgetary news to the Board of Supervisors, a job few envy.

“He’s stood up to the board. It’s kind of hard to do that,” Granville said. “I wouldn’t do it. He tells them things the board doesn’t necessarily want to hear.”

Branca, the budget director, echoed Granville’s admiration for his longtime colleague.

“A lot of people around the county say we really need him. While we don’t always agree with him, we really need the standards he represents,” Branca said of Lewis. “Regardless of the kind of pressure he may feel will be brought to bear on him . . . he stood up for his principle. He did what had to be done.”