Political watchdog nips at campaign finance

California’s lead political watchdog won’t mention names, but he strongly feels that the way some Sacramento politicians are raising and spending special interest money is plain wrong.

He’s new in the job as chairman of the state Fair Political Practices Commission, which enforces campaign finance and conflict-of-interest laws. But Ross Johnson, 68, is hardly a naive political neophyte.

The former Orange County lawmaker spent 26 years in the Legislature, serving stints as Republican leader in each house. A feisty conservative, he was in the thick of virtually every Capitol brawl. Term limits forced Johnson out in 2004, and Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger appointed him commission chairman in February.

Johnson is not just a political junkie. He long has been a campaign finance junkie and has attempted several reforms without much success.

“The people of California fundamentally have a right to expect that their elected representatives will do what’s best for them, not what’s best for whoever can shove the most campaign cash over the transom,” he said during an interview in his office, eight blocks from the Capitol.

“These large sums of money from people who obviously are interested in the outcome of matters before the Legislature -- or the city council or board of supervisors -- inherently carry with them the potential of corruption.”

He added: “I was a pretty successful fundraiser over the years. There’s nothing hypocritical about that. I played by the rules and I played the game as well as I could. But I argued that the rules should be changed.”

One rule Johnson would like changed -- and it’s very relevant currently -- is the loophole that provides lawmakers with several smelly fundraising tools.

Besides a campaign cache, they’re permitted to raise money for “officeholder accounts,” or personal slush funds. They can solicit tax-deductible donations for charitable gifts presented in their name, or “behest.” They can travel the world -- as Schwarzenegger does -- on the special interest dime that is tax-deductible when filtered through a “nonprofit.” There are also other devices in the fundraising toolshed.

“If I were king,” Johnson said, there’d be only one fundraising account -- in order to reduce special interest influence and to make it easier for the public to follow the money. In his view, whether money is given to a politician’s campaign or to his pet charity, the donor’s purpose frequently is the same: to buy return favors.

“Money is money is money,” Johnson said. “It doesn’t matter which pocket that a special interest contributor is putting it in, whether he’s putting it in your vest pocket or putting it in your hip pocket or in your shirt pocket.

“What we’re concerned about is the possibility of your being unduly influenced by the money that an individual is giving at your request.”

Johnson would make one exception and continue to allow a separate “legal defense fund.” He’s sympathetic to that, he explained, because a lawmaker could be facing personal bankruptcy and “prosecution by a politically motivated district attorney.” But Johnson recently ordered his staff to draft a regulation requiring a politician to specify what legal problem he’s defending against. And when the dispute has been resolved, the fund would be shut down.

That’s relevant in the Capitol now because Senate President Pro Tem Don Perata (D-Oakland) has been tapping contributors to feed his huge legal defense fund while he’s under FBI investigation for possible corruption.

In the Assembly, Speaker Fabian Nunez (D-Los Angeles) has raised eyebrows because of his freewheeling use of special interest dollars.

A Times story Friday disclosed how the speaker had used a small charity to funnel nearly $300,000 from special interests to pet local causes in his name. All the interests were players in the Capitol.

“I think it’s just a question of making sure that people who do well by California’s economy do a little more to help the needy,” Nunez told a reporter, sounding like the Speaker of Sherwood Forest.

One month ago, The Times detailed Nunez’s luxurious travels, paid for with “Friends of Fabian” campaign funds contributed by special interests. State law requires all campaign fund expenditures to be “reasonably” related to some political, legislative or governmental purpose. Nunez explained he was trying to broaden his perspective and also felt obliged to buy many high-end gifts for people.

Johnson wouldn’t respond specifically to Nunez’s actions. After all, he potentially could be judging whether the speaker violated the state political reform act. But generally, Johnson said, he believes that if an officeholder’s trip has a governmental purpose, “it ought to be paid for by the taxpayers. And if you can’t justify it to the taxpayers, then you probably ought not to do it.”

Johnson said he’d be inclined -- “if I were king” -- to limit the use of political money to politics. Period.

“The increasing time spent [by legislators] on political fundraising and the obscene amounts of money should be troubling to any citizen,” he said.

The answer?

“Dramatically limit the source and size of campaign contributions.” He’d reduce the state’s contribution limit per election to the federal cap: $2,300 for any office -- Congress or president. California’s individual limits are $3,600 for legislator, $24,100 for governor and $6,000 for all other statewide offices.

“It’s an absolute insult to everyone’s intelligence,” Johnson said, to insist that the contribution limit for a governor’s race has to be $24,100, but a U.S. Senate candidate can get by with only a max of $2,300. They’re both running statewide.

Johnson’s appointment has been widely praised. “He’s brought an interesting breath of fresh air,” says Bob Stern, a co-author of the state’s Political Reform Act and now president of the Center for Governmental Studies.

California politics doesn’t need just a watchdog. It needs a bulldog like Johnson to take a bite out of a bad system.

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george.skelton@latimes.com