It never ends.
You'd think the breach of public trust would bottom out in this state.
You'd think the tales of political corruption at the Arizona State Legislature would inspire the other players in the public arena to show some integrity.
What with our first gubernatorial run-off election only days away, you'd think the media would do their part to cover the race fair and square.
You'd think the state's largest daily newspapers would take their thumbs off the scales and give both candidates an even break.
But this is Arizona.
And it never ends.
It's no secret the Arizona Republic and Phoenix Gazette want J. Fife Symington III as their next governor. Both newspapers endorsed Symington in the general election last November. And their disappointment over Symington's failure to put the race away last fall is obvious.
It's also written all over their editorial and news pages.
In the guise of presenting neutral, objective reporting, the Republic has twisted and distorted its coverage of the election in subtle yet devious ways.
Throughout the run-off campaign, Symington's strategy has been to keep the governor's race on the back burner. It's a front-runner's strategy, and with so many political land mines threatening to explode in Fife's face, it makes sense.
Sure, world and local events this month have helped Symington and his supporters at the Republic enormously. A war in the Middle East and a lurid "sting" operation at the state capitol have given the papers ample cover for burying election news on the obituary page.
But Symington's done his part to deflect attention from the race by refusing--except for one televised debate--to go one-on-one with Terry Goddard. That's another ploy of the front-runner, and with the dailies unable to put Symington on the spot for comment, news of fresh ideas for a state in desperate need of leadership never gets published.
When the news is too big to ignore, when the Washington Post and the Wall Street Journal start paying attention to Symington's foibles, the Republic gets tricky.
Like on February 7, when a U.S. Senate subcommittee charged Symington with violating federal conflict-of-interest laws. From the nation's capitol, Ohio Senator Howard Metzenbaum spelled out Symington's role in persuading the now-defunct Southwest Savings & Loan Association to sink $30.1 million into the Camelback Esplanade while he was serving as a member of Southwest's board of directors. The deal has cost the taxpayers some $22.6 million, according to the senate subcommittee, because Southwest's total investment of $65.6 million in the project exceeded the Esplanade's "realizable value." Resolution Trust Corporation has already written off the $22.6 million loss.
Consider the enormity of this botched business deal: Southwest's partnership with Symington was the largest single investment in the thrift's history; what's more, the $22.6 million loss represents the largest write-off of Southwest's beleaguered investment portfolio. Add to that Symington's alleged violations of federal law, and the emerging pictureMDRV suggests more than merely tough breaks in a sinking economy.
Given this bombshell, how does the Republic exercise damage control for its candidate of choice? Easy. On February 8, it runs a side-by-side story trumpeting a computer error that "slashed by half" the assessed value of Democrat Terry Goddard's home. As if the two stories were of equal weight.
Earlier in the week, Goddard had blasted Symington for seeking annual tax reductions on his Valley real estate to the tune of $3 million. This revelation on February 5 made several compelling points. First, it showed a man willing to use one set of figures for the tax man and another for his lenders. Second, it raised serious doubts about Symington's much-touted business skills and solvency, what with the candidate holding property worth far less than he earlier boasted--and millions less than his outstanding $200 million debt. Third, it showed a man relentless in his greed to wangle out of paying taxes.
How does the Republic handle this one? It takes to the editorial pages on February 5 and 7 with more Goddard hate pieces--they'd already set their venomous tone last fall by endorsing Symington with three quarters of the space dedicated to disparaging the Democrat. This time, editorial page editor William Cheshire assembled "facts" and photos on the financing of Goddard's home that couldn't find their way into a news story.
And speaking of news stories: Symington didn't like the piece written on February 6 by the Republic's prize-winning reporter Mary Jo Pitzl. She broke the story on Symington's shortchanging of county tax coffers by $3.1 million, and prepared a chart detailing Symington's properties and their values.
The following day, Symington sent his soldiers to the Republic to snipe about the coverage and supply more favorable information to the paper from his camp. The Symington delegation met with the paper's managing editor John Oppedahl, Pitzl's editor Laurie Roberts and assistant managing editor Bob Franken. This is a common tactic to put heat on reporters.
But this was only the beginning of the paper's knuckling under to Symington. On February 14, Pitzl contacted Symington headquarters for an interview with the candidate. She wanted to discuss his financial dealings. The Symington folks said she could have an interview, but only in the presence of her editors. They said this would make her "more comfortable."
Hardly. No veteran reporter needs, much less desires, her bosses breathing down her neck during a routine campaign assignment. Such kowtowing to the paper's politician of preference is improper.
But Oppedahl acceded to Symington's demand and ordered Pitzl to conduct the interview with Republic city editor Jan Leach, reporter Bill Carlile, and editor Roberts in the room. Content with Oppedahl's directive, Symington marched down to the Republic with his press secretary Annette Alverez, lawyer Bill Shore, and business buddy Randy Todd in tow.
What's wrong with such strong-arm tactics? By reining in Pitzl, the Republic is intimidating its reporters, buckling to every Symington whim, and ensuring the kind of election coverage its owners in Indianapolis, the Pulliams, want to see.
Oppedahl defends his order by saying he's done it before and it's therefore not unprecedented. He says there's "comfort and safety in numbers" and it's nice to have "more brains clicking" during the interview. When he's asked whether the paper followed the same approach during its Goddard interviews, Oppedahl can't remember. But he quickly adds that the "complexity" of Symington's finances supports his decision to bow to Symington's "request."
We may never know if Pitzl could have conducted a more fruitful interview without all the intermeddlers standing guard. We do know, however, what her paper looked like the following day.
On February 15, the Republic ran a campaign story by another reporter on the front page of its Valley section, carrying the blockbuster headline "Symington Assails Foe's Ethics." Its larger-than-life title turned the story into a press release from the Symington camp, a puff piece rehashing Symington's whining about the financing of Goddard's house.
When the state's largest daily newspaper stacks the news and editorial decks so heavily against one gubernatorial candidate, the consequences can be devastating. The daily sets the tone of the election; its stories provide grist for the broadcast media's mill. And most of the media play follow the leader. Unless the daily's shenanigans are exposed, the public cannot evaluate either the candidates' qualifications for office or the media's performance in delivering the news. The Republic's handling of the governor's overtime election is just another breach of the public trust.
William Cheshire's editorial page of the Republic has churned out a surfeit of anti-Goddard sentiment in the final weeks of the campaign. Running at the top of the page, day in and day out, have appeared headlines like "Upfront With Terry" (February 5), "Terry's Mystery Loan" (February 7), and "Senator Tagliabue's Smear" (February 10). And Cheshire's ire is not yet over.
"Terry's Mystery Loan" is a real doozy. It suggests that by taking out a home loan from MeraBank in 1986, Goddard either called in special favors, or his loan supposedly exemplified the scandalous lending practices that led to MeraBank's later insolvency. Of course, the Republic's editorial page editor has no proof of either.
Rushing to break a few windows in Goddard's "glass house," Cheshire broke a few rules along the way. As if to help the editorial page reader, Cheshire ran with "Mystery Loan" a picture of Goddard's home, complete with the caption, "The House on Portland Street: Questions, but no answers."
Perhaps if Cheshire left the reporting to the reporters, he'd find the answers. Instead, and with no apparent reason, he published the precise address of Goddard's home. This is a Cheshire cheap shot, though it may be the only factual accuracy in his entire editorial.
For those of us trying to tell the mist from the mast in all this mess, Cheshire's "Upfront With Terry" asks a few questions about Goddard's business deals, and we thought they deserved a few answers.
First, the opinion shapers at the Republic want to know whether Goddard had any sources of income other than his mayoral salary to qualify for a $120,000 home loan in 1986 and another loan of $48,199 in 1987. They say that "[i]f he has other major sources of income, they do not show on the tax returns he has made public . . . with some fanfare, it might be added."
Here, the editorial is factually wrong. Annually, Goddard receives roughly $5,000 from the United States Navy Reserve and $6,000 from a corn and soybean farm that he and his brother inherited from an aunt in Illinois. Maybe that kind of money isn't considered "major" enough by Cheshire. But if he'd taken the time to review Goddard's tax returns, if he'd consulted anyone other than Symington, Cheshire might discover that life holds one less "mystery."
Second, the Republic editor wants to know why MeraBank would lend a total of $168,199 on a house that cost $91,900 "only a few years before." Here, a little history is in order.
Eight years ago Goddard bought what he describes as "a wreck--a single-family home broken into eight apartments." Using two other properties as collateral, he took out a short-term bridge loan for approximately $50,000. Goddard sank that money into a complete remodeling of the house.
"They removed fifteen to twenty dump trucks full of trash. I put in new electrical, plumbing, floors and a roof that cost $10,000. I'm still paying for the carpenter," Goddard explains.
With another $50,000 in restoration plowed into the house, there's nothing odd about seeking a $120,000 mortgage to pay off the bridge loan. In fact, Goddard says, MeraBank appraised the house at $168,000 in 1986--well before MeraBank was negotiating any kind of "deals" with the city.
Goddard adds that he followed the path any other borrower would take in securing his home financing. "I went to a regular loan officer," Goddard says, denying that he ever called in any favors from MeraBank bigwigs to secure the loan.
A year later Goddard applied for a $48,000 consumer loan from the same institution. It was a consumer loan, not a mortgage, although he says the thrift took a security interest in the house.
So why would MeraBank lend a total of $168,199 to Goddard? One, the bank's appraised the home at that amount and secured an interest in the property. Two, the place has been completely renovated and is worth much more than it was "only a few years before." Three, he owns a cabin in Tucson free and clear, if ever MeraBank needed to attach any other assets. Four, the guy's capable of earning four times his salary as mayor, if ever he decides to practice law full-time.
And there's a fifth reason. Unlike Symington, Goddard's always made his payments on time. Like some of the rest of us, he uses an automatic deposit slip every month. No defaults. No foreclosures. No conflict-of-interest charges from the U.S. Senate.
In Cheshire's third demand, he wants to know how a man living on an annual income of $32,671 can afford monthly bank payments totaling $21,096 yearly, leaving only $11,575 for food, clothes, transportation and the like.
As we pointed out, Goddard's making closer to $45,000, leaving almost $24,000 a year above and beyond the expense of his bank payment.
"In my case," Goddard adds, "I've got no transportation costs because the city supplied my car. I had few meal costs because I spent most of my lunches and dinners giving speeches. My major costs were utilities.
"And I've been very frugal," Goddard adds, lifting his shoe with the well-worn sole for emphasis.
Finally, Cheshire questions Goddard's contract with the law firm of Bryan, Cave, McPheeters, and McRoberts. Originally, Goddard agreed to bill 600 hours for a $60,000 annual salary. After meeting his projections for only a month or two, Goddard's numbers started falling behind. Now, Cheshire exclaims, "the attorney general's office is looking into the possibility that this `upfront' arrangement amounts to an unlawful campaign loan."
Though Cheshire's column neglects to inform, the Attorney General's Office has already looked into Goddard's arrangement with Bryan, Cave and found no conflict. So long as Goddard reimburses the firm on a pro rata basis for any overpayment based on insufficient hours, the deal's hardly illegal.
"I can't figure out where the issue is," Goddard says.
He claims he picked Bryan, Cave precisely to avoid any appearance of impropriety. Goddard says the firm does no lobbying at the legislature or city hall. Of course, it doesn't hurt to have a potential governor in your law office, nor would Bryan, Cave be unlucky to count a governor among its alumni.
Bryan, Cave partner Mike Hawkins says Goddard has handled civil liability defense, immigration and labor matters for the firm's clients.MDRV
"I first worked with Terry when he was a young assistant attorney general and I was at the U.S. Attorney's Office," Hawkins notes. "Terry's a good lawyer who's performed well in the public arena. Our firm doesn't advertise, but he will attract clients, and we're lucky to have him."
Goddard thinks Cheshire's editorials have stuck him "on the horns of a dilemma."
"On the one hand, they say I don't earn enough money to afford my mortgage. On the other, they question my right to go out and earn a living doing the one thing I'm qualified to do," Goddard complains.
"They're playing Symington's game," claims the former Phoenix mayor, "and after that [February 7] editorial, I had no choice but to call up Gene Pulliam and tell him so."
This isn't the first time the Pulliam newspapers have played fast and loose with an important election.
In the 1968 Indiana presidential primary, Robert F. Kennedy found himself the subject of relentless, excoriating attacks from Pulliam's Indianapolis Star.
Addressing a group of clergy at the Christian Seminary, the former U.S. attorney general quipped, "I always thought the Manchester [New Hampshire] Union Leader was the worst paper in the country. I think, really, the Indianapolis Star must run it neck and neck. I've been here two weeks, and I've never seen a worse paper . . . . It's certainly the most distorted, I think, one of the most warped. Do they have one man who makes up all that?"
The Columbia Journalism Review published a postelection survey on Pulliam's coverage of the 1968 Democratic primary in Indiana. It showed that in the nearly six weeks between RFK's filing in the Hoosier State and the primary, Pulliam's favorite son presidential candidate, Indiana Governor Roger Branigin, received substantially more space than Robert Kennedy in Pulliam's newspapers, even counting all the anti-Kennedy material. And it was not only the sheer magnitude of space, but also the bias in the stories and cartoons that made the newspapers' performance the brunt of so much criticism.
Cheshire thinks that by calling Senator Howard Metzenbaum "Senator Tagliabue" he can whip up the same anti-outsider fervor that killed the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday in Arizona. By doing so, he hopes to kill Goddard's chances of becoming governor.
But if there's one outsider who ought to be brought to justice in this whole sorry mess, it's Gene Pulliam of Indiana, president of Cheshire's distorted Republic. When the Washington Post and the Wall Street Journal start paying attention to Symington's foibles, the Republic gets tricky.
We may never know if Pitzl could have conducted a more fruitful interview without all the intermeddlers standing guard.
The Republic's handling of the governor's overtime election is just another breach of the public trust.
