Spotlight Falls on 3 Officials in Stadium Debate

The politically explosive push to build a minor league ballpark here began on a low-key note nearly three years ago, when former big league pitcher Jim Colborn moved back to his hometown and went shopping for someone who would build a Class A stadium.

“He called up and asked if I knew anybody who could bring a baseball team back to this community. I told him Jack Tingstrom. . . . I put them in contact, and the rest is history.”

That is how Councilman Ray Di Guilio remembers the start of an $18.7-million stadium project that has put him, Tingstrom and Councilman Jim Friedman in the center of a furious debate over whether the proposed ballpark would be a boon to the Ventura community or a costly boondoggle for taxpayers.

The three council members were never the only supporters of the stadium plan. Council members Rosa Lee Measures and Jim Monahan have also been backers of the project--all five lined up against the council’s two stadium skeptics, Gary Tuttle and Steve Bennett.

But Measures was elected in 1993, and Monahan was reelected to the council that same year, before the ballpark project was conceived.

Di Guilio, Tingstrom and Friedman were the only members of the seven-member council up for election last November, when stadium backers were laying the groundwork for City Council consideration of their project this year.

And when the stadium issue began to heat up in recent weeks--especially after an accusation by Bennett that council members were too dependent on “a small group” of campaign contributors--the focus shifted to those three.

Indeed, Di Guilio and Friedman made their first run for public office last year with the strong financial backing of stadium developer John Hofer and dealers in the Hofer-owned Ventura Auto Mall, adjacent to the proposed ballpark. Incumbent Tingstrom drew similar support.

In recent weeks, even these three stadium stalwarts have divided on the issue. Friedman opposes construction because of the steep cost to the city, while Tingstrom and Di Guilio believe the project will make sense with more negotiations.

As things stand, Hofer’s proposal for a 5,000-seat California League ballpark is in jeopardy. All but one of the seven City Council members--Tingstrom--have said they will not approve it unless it is ratified by voters as a ballot measure.

Yet, the majority favors continued negotiations to determine the best deal the city can wring from Hofer.

City Manager Donna Landeros, the city’s point person in negotiations, is scheduled to bring Hofer’s best offer back to the council Oct. 21.

But raw, emotional arguments at recent council hearings have already reduced the debate to a more personal level and clouded the stadium dialogue with questions about the source of campaign contributions in the last election.

Those concerns have surfaced against the backdrop of a strict campaign reform approved by Ventura voters last year. That change required council candidates to reveal the sources of contributions as small as $25 beginning next election--instead of the current $100 cutoff.

And it was Bennett, the driving force in the campaign reform ballot initiative, who again raised the issue.

“City Council members have become dependent on a small group of big players who are their main campaign contributors,” he said. “I feel money is sometimes laundered in denominations under $100.”

Sensitive to criticism, Di Guilio, a Moorpark College vice president, and Friedman, a financial advisor, agreed last week to trace their relationship with Hofer and to identify all contributors to their 1995 campaigns--including the hundreds of contributors whose donations were under $100. They are not required under the existing law to make those contributions public.

Their disclosures showed a broad base of financial support.

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The bulk of Di Guilio’s contributions came from fellow church members, professional contacts in education and local businesses not related to the auto mall.

But among the $37,000 in total cash and nonmonetary contributions received by Di Guilio, about $6,600 came from auto mall or stadium interests. That was roughly one in every six campaign dollars.

And among $19,000 in publicly reported cash and gifts worth more than $100 to Di Guilio, about $4,500 came from auto mall and stadium interests. Of the $18,100 in amounts under $100, his records show another $2,100 from Hofer and other stadium supporters.

Not counted in the total contributions are $18,550 that Di Guilio loaned his own campaign.

Like Di Guilio, Friedman’s total of about $24,000 in campaign contributions came primarily from friends, family and business associates. About $1,800 of that was from auto dealers and stadium interests--about one out of every 13 campaign dollars.

Friedman received about $10,800 in cash and gifts worth $100 or more, only $300 of that from stadium interests. Among the $13,270 in contributions of $99 or less, $1,471 came from Hofer and other stadium interests, including $891 from nine members of the Hofer family.

Not counted in the total are $10,600 that Friedman loaned himself.

Tingstrom received $24,000 in declared cash and gifts worth $100 or more, $2,600 of that from auto mall and stadium interests, including nearly $1,200 from a company owned by the Hofer family. That was about one in every 10 publicly declared campaign dollars.

But nearly half of Tingstrom’s $49,900 in total contributions came from undeclared sources--$22,000. The mayor said 253 people contributed amounts of $99 or less to his campaign, including 17 auto dealers.

At most, that would have added another $1,683, resulting in an overall total of about $4,300 from stadium interests. That would be slightly less than one out of every 12 campaign dollars.

The mayor said he would like to make all of his contributions public, but some donors asked him not to do so.

“I took a sampling of some of my contributors and they do not want their names given out,” he said. “I cannot go against that.”

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In revealing all of his contributors, however, Di Guilio acknowledged that the controversial nature of the stadium project has spawned questions about the potential financial links of recent council candidates and auto mall interests.

“A big-ticket item like this has people wondering what’s going on,” he said. “You’re kind of guilty until proven innocent. . . . The inference is clear, if you’re going to do some item like this, there’s some undue influence.”

Di Guilio acknowledged being recruited as a council candidate by former auto dealer John Masterson, who eventually managed his campaign and contributed $3,000 in cash and gifts. Today, Masterson is a spokesperson for the auto mall and a principal stadium promoter. Di Guilio also said he sought Hofer’s advice--along with that of his wife, pastor and other select confidants--before deciding to run for the council last year.

Building the stadium, in fact, was a primary goal of Di Guilio’s aggressively pro-business campaign.

But Di Guilio, who coached baseball at Ventura College in the 1970s, said his support for a community ballpark has nothing to do with that financial backing. He said he favored a stadium years before he had ever heard of Hofer.

In 1986, in fact, Di Guilio helped Colborn negotiate use of the Ventura College baseball field for Colborn’s Ventura Gulls, a minor league franchise that lasted just one season.

Colborn’s return to town after a stint in professional baseball in Japan brought the prospect of hometown pro baseball back into Di Guilio’s consciousness, he said. And by 1995, Di Guilio was stumping for a Ventura County ballpark to be built by a three-city stadium authority.

He said he favored an east Ventura site because the weather was warmer and less foggy than Hofer’s site. But once Hofer’s celery field was rated the best site in western Ventura County by the authority’s consultant, Di Guilio said he voluntarily lobbied the Camarillo City Council to support a Ventura site even though it would mean an economic loss for Camarillo.

His motive was simple, Di Guilio said: He thought a minor league stadium would be good for the community.

After Oxnard and Camarillo pulled out and negotiations for a three-city authority collapsed in early 1995, Di Guilio made his pro-stadium pitch to the Greater Ventura Chamber of Commerce. Three months later, Di Guilio said he met with Hofer for the first time in preparing to back Hofer’s proposal before the Ventura City Council. Two months later, with Masterson and Hofer’s encouragement, Di Guilo declared his council candidacy.

“He [Hofer] said, ‘Yeah, I think you’re a good spokesperson for the community,’ ” Di Guilio said. “If I was going to support a stadium . . . he was going to be a player in that.”

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“I saw this project as a way of making a statement about what this community can become,” Di Guilio said. “I think the stadium is symbolic of what I stand for. . . . I’m looking for some positive things to happen in the community. I don’t think you can define yourself by saying ‘no.’ ”

Similarly, the councilman said he backs downtown redevelopment, construction of a community swimming pool and longer library hours.

Friedman, who was president of the Ventura Chamber of Commerce last year, ran on a similar campaign for “economic vitality.” He said he began thinking about the fall race after he was approached in early 1995 by public relations specialist Beverly Benton, who has worked on Hofer’s stadium campaign off and on for two years and who helped run Measures’ campaign in 1993.

By August, Friedman was a candidate and Benton his campaign manager, having taken a leave from her duties with Hofer. But early in the race, they both accepted Hofer’s invitation to go with him to a Republican Party fund-raiser at the Hofer family ranch near Ontario Airport in San Bernardino County.

Friedman said it was a good opportunity to meet party bigwigs, including U.S. Senate candidate Michael Huffington. Friedman said he also wanted to see a minor league ballpark nearby.

“I met [Hofer’s] brother, sister, mother, father and three or four cousins,” he said. “My campaign manager said now’s a good time to ask them for contributions, and I did. . . . And they all came in the mail.”

In all, Friedman received nine $99 contributions from the Hofers, totaling $891.

Benton said she did not remember Friedman’s request for contributions from the Hofers.

And, in fact, she said she routinely advises candidates to take only a maximum of $400 from any donor likely to have a project before the City Council--because the contributions may appear to cause a conflict of interest.

“It’s a good idea to limit your contributions from any one person,” she said. “It makes a statement that you’re broad-based and looking out for the interest of the city.”

It was for that reason, Benton said, that she advised Friedman to return six checks the campaign received from Hofer employees about a month before the election. Friedman said he did not know any of the $99 contributors, but Benton told him they worked for Hofer. He called Hofer to tell him he had to send the money back.

“I said, ‘John it looks like these might be employees of yours.’ ” “I said, ‘John I’m going to send the checks back.’ . . . He said something, maybe to the effect, ‘I understand.’ ”

Friedman said he had no reason to believe any of the Hofer employees would have been reimbursed for their contributions, a violation of state law. But early in the race Friedman said his treasurer had warned him about state Fair Political Practices Regulations rules: “One thing the FPPC frowns on is an employer collecting money from employees,” he said.

“I didn’t think that had happened . . .,” he said, “but the easiest thing to do, the cleanest thing to do was to just return the checks.”

Hofer could not be reached for comment Friday and Saturday. An employee whose check was returned by Friedman, bookkeeper Amanda Gilliand, said she did not recall the gift, but is sure her boss would not have asked her to make it. “He wouldn’t ask me to do something like that,” she said.

Today, Friedman maintains that the surest way to judge whether his contacts with Hofer influenced him is to look at his recent votes.

He shocked many supporters in September by joining Bennett and Tuttle in voting not to negotiate further with Hofer, at least not as the deal was proposed to the council by Di Guilio.

“I was supporting it in concept, but now it doesn’t pencil out as being a good deal for the city,” Friedman said last week. “If you’re going to invest $100 just to make $90 it just doesn’t make sense. . . . If it’s just emotion, sure it’s great to have a stadium. But you need logic too.”

Friedman said since his rebuff of Hofer’s latest proposal, and his insistence that Tuttle remain on the city negotiating committee, some old supporters have turned cold or confrontational.

For instance, stadium supporter Ken Schmitz, a Ventura accountant, publicly faced Friedman down during a recent council meeting and said, “Maybe there’s a religious experience when you cross over to that side of the fence.”

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Friedman said there was. “The reason I can take this position is that I’m a hell of a lot more knowledgeable than I was before.”

Friedman said, however, that many other onetime stadium supporters have called him to praise his position. Friedman said he believes the city gives away too much under the Hofer plan.

As it stands, Ventura would put up $18.7 million to build the stadium. In return, Hofer would donate 20 acres, valued at between $2 million and $5 million. He would also pay the city $300,000 for each of the first five years, and $330,000 for each of the next 15 years, to lease the stadium. Hofer has also agreed to cover maintenance costs for the city--estimated at about $600,000 annually.

Analysts say the city would still lose about $700,000 a year for the next 20 years, due to interest lost from city reserve accounts that would be drained by stadium construction.

Di Guilio said the council has balked too quickly. The $18.7 million is a beginning point, and he believes the city can afford to invest up to $10 million in the deal. With that investment, the city would lose only about $200,000 a year, and would have an asset worth at least $15 million considering the cost of Hofer’s donated land, he said.

“Is it worth $200,000 a year to have that community amenity?” Di Guilio asked. Besides having a stadium open for 68 ballgames a year, and available in the off-season for concerts and other activities, the city would have an asset with lasting value, he said.

Di Guilio said he agrees with Hofer that a stadium would increase business at the auto mall, boosting city sales taxes and property revenues. The auto mall, though struggling through the 1990s, still provides about 9% of city sales tax.

“The city does well, but John Hofer does well,” Di Guilio said. “Nobody’s hiding that.”

From the start, the City Council’s most avid backer of the stadium deal has been Tingstrom, whom Colborn remembers as a fan of minor league ball even back in 1986, when he said the Ventura Gulls franchise died for lack of a proper stadium.

Tingstrom seized upon Colborn’s return in 1993 to push his own dreams of a baseball stadium.

“Jack had sort of been searching around for some project for a while, and it just all clicked,” said Colborn, a minor league manager who was quick to take Di Guilio’s advice about hooking up with Tingstrom and has contributed to the campaigns of both Tingstrom and Di Guilio.

When Hofer’s original $100-million Centerplex idea was first announced in 1995, Tingstrom championed it. And after his colleagues appointed him as mayor, Tingstrom made the project the centerpiece of his State of the City address in February.

His apparent rapport with Hofer became a council issue early this year, when Bennett pointed out that Tingstrom had spent $826 in city funds to travel with the stadium developer to Arizona to scout sports complexes. The men’s $72 airline tickets were bought with Hofer’s credit card, a detail some critics view as an inappropriate closeness between a city official and a developer with a pending project.

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“The biggest proponent is obviously the mayor,” Friedman said.

In an interview last week, Tingstrom said he wants to see Hofer’s stadium built. And though refusing to list his under-$100 contributors, he said he received comparatively little from auto dealers and resents speculation that he did.

“I think it’s ludicrous,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

The mayor said he received small donations from a wide array of residents--especially senior citizens.

“Is there money from the auto dealers?” he asked. “Hell, yes. But not $10,000. If there’s $1,000 or $2,000 you’d be lucky.”