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BY DAN HARRIE @1999, THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE
Utah leaders have responded to the snowballing Olympic briberyscandal by insisting the spectacle of greed, greased palms and corruption is at odds with the state's squeaky-clean values.
``This is not something that in any way exemplifies the behavior or the code of conduct that this community stands for,'' Gov. Mike Leavitt told millions of Americans last week on ABC's Good Morning America. ``We revolt at even being associated with it.''
But the protests may be a bit too loud and indignant.
In many ways the attempt to win friends and influence votes with money and gifts is politics as usual in the Beehive State.
Consider these comparisons:
-- In the Olympic scandal, Salt Lake City is under fire after disclosure of large cash donations from bid officials to International Olympic Committee (IOC) voting members. In Utah, candidates for all state and local offices are free to take unlimited campaign donations from individuals, special interests and directly from corporations. There are no restrictions on how the money is used, including for personal expenses.
-- IOC member Marc Hodler rocked the Olympic world by claiming bid cities often pay ``agents'' who supposedly control blocs of IOC member votes. Here, industries and other special interests routinely hire high-priced lobbyists in their attempt to influence votes.
-- Olympic allegations include questionable employment of relatives of IOC officials. It is common for Utah companies to hire former government officials immediately upon their departure from public office.
-- Lavish spending on gifts and free medical services to IOC members and kin has rocked Salt Lake City's Olympic quest. But in the world of Utah politics, lobbyists spend tens of thousands of dollars annually on meals, Jazz tickets, golf rounds and, occasionally, trips for elected officials.
``There's clearly some hypocrisy here,'' says Anthony Musci, chairman of the government reform group Utah Common Cause. ``I guess self-righteous indignation would be a good way to describe it. To some degree I suspect that's posturing to save face.''
But Musci says the counter-argument to comparing everyday Utah politics to the Olympic bribes is that ``nothing that lavish goes on in the state. It's to a much lesser degree.
``Nevertheless, it's wrong and there's still a problem with influence peddling going on in this state.''
Leavitt has demanded an aggressive ``agenda of reform'' for the International Olympic Committee. But when it comes to Utah's wide-open campaign and lobby laws, the governor takes a pass.
``There's a lot about that that's undesirable,'' Leavitt acknowledges when asked about the phalanx of special-interest lobbyists that cover Capitol Hill.
``[But] the rules that govern how the Legislature works are best defined by the Legislature. I don't think it's my place to try to define the way they ought to conduct themselves.''
A Longtime Champion of Reform: Incoming House Speaker Marty Stephens, R-Farr West, has long been a proponent of reforms and hopes to push some in the upcoming session.
Stephens and his new leadership team are backing a plan to close a loophole in the lobbyist gift law that allows giving of sporting event tickets, golf rounds, trips and meals exceeding the $50 limit.
Despite his reformist bent, Stephens rejects comparisons of Utah lawmakers with bribe-taking IOC members. He ticks off a number of distinctions.
``We have disclosure [of campaign contributions and lobbyist gifts],'' notes Stephens. ``They don't have disclosure.
``We're elected representatives, so the people can kick us out if they don't like what we're doing,'' he said. ``They're not elected representatives. In a lot of cases, they're elitists, to be honest with you.''
Stephens also claims it is unfair to single out politicians for the comparison.
``You could draw the same analogies in business,'' he said, including news organizations that treat big advertisers to cruises or other special rates and favors.
``You'd be able to make those kind of analogies anytime that groups of individuals interact with the intention of influencing others' behavior -- whether it's the business community or politics or the Olympics.''
For years, office holders here have pointed to the lack of scandal in Utah to prove the point that rules enacted in other parts of the country aren't needed here.
But Congresswoman Enid Greene retired after one term following disclosure that her 1994 election was fueled almost entirely by illegal donations from her wealthy father's account. Greene tearfully pinned the whole $1.8 million fiasco on her ex-husband, Joe Waldholtz. He spent time in federal prison while she was never charged.
And Salt Lake City Mayor Deedee Corradini escaped prosecution in the Bonneville Pacific bankruptcy only to be entangled in the scandal known as ``giftgate.'' Court documents that surfaced after her close 1995 re-election showed she had solicited more than $230,000 from wealthy Salt Lake residents and corporate executives, many of whom had business with city government.
Corradini was never criminally charged.
Also investigated on bribery allegations was Khosrow Semnani, a former member of the governor-appointed board overseeing radiation control and owner of Envirocare of Utah, a lucrative low-level radioactive-waste dump in Tooele County.
Semnani admitted paying about $600,000 in cash, gold coins and real estate to Larry Anderson, who was then the state's top radiation-control regulator.
After an 18-month probe that began in Utah Atty. Gen. Jan Graham's office and ended up in the hands of federal prosecutors, Semnani was charged with an obscure misdemeanor tax charge. He was ordered to pay a $100,000 fine, with no prison time in exchange for his testimony against Anderson.
Anderson, meantime, denies any wrongdoing, insisting his relationship with Semnani was a legal and proper ``consulting'' arrangement. He said the private contract did not interfere with his state regulator job.
While Semnani stepped down from his state board position and as president of the company, he retains ownership of Envirocare of Utah and continues as an active player in politics. He has donated thousands of dollars to elected officials from the governor to legislators and county commissioners.
Meanwhile, the revolving door of politicians moving directly from elected office to lucrative lobbying jobs continues to spin ever faster.
Salt Lake County Commissioner Randy Horiuchi was barely out of his old office this month when he joined a lobby firm that counts the county as one of its clients and represents companies that hold millions in government contracts.
The 1998 majority leaders of the Senate and the House, Craig Peterson and Christine Fox-Finlinson, are back in the Capitol with thick lobby-client lists happy to pay for their services and connections. They join more than a score of former officials-turned-professional-persuaders, including former House Speakers Craig Moody and Rob Bishop. Bishop is also state Republican Party chairman.
And outgoing House Speaker Mel Brown abandoned his quest for an unprecedented third term after news reports that US West lobbyist Rob Jolley discussed future job prospects with him.
Welch Argues That Nothing Was Amiss: Tom Welch, former leader of Salt Lake City's Olympic bid effort, has portrayed the lucre-laced activities of his old office as nothing out of the ordinary.
``If you measure our conduct with the way people in this city do business, it's no different,'' Welch said in a recent interview with The Salt Lake Tribune. ``You support your friends and their causes, and that's what we tried to do. But as far as trying to buy somebody, no way.''
Welch has acknowledged contributions of $50,000 to one IOC member and $10,000 to the mayoral campaign of another. He equated those donations to campaign checks he made out to former Gov. Norm Bangerter in the 1980s when he was corporate counsel for Smith Food and Drug.
Leavitt dismisses that argument. He insists his political fund raising is conducted at arm's length.
``The governor's office does not call people and ask them for donations,'' says Leavitt. ``What we do is create a campaign organization that's very clear and distinct from any official activity that goes on.''
Leavitt says there are big differences between his campaign donations and direct payments and ``expense abuses'' by IOC members now being uncovered.
``The difference is they have been disclosed straight up. Disclosure creates a public accountability.'' If rules of full disclosure had been in place for the Olympics bidding process, he says, ``I'd feel a lot better about it.''
Leavitt also is quick to point out that the political donations he takes are spent on campaign activities and expenses related to his office -- such as travel for first lady Jacalyn Smith Leavitt, entertaining at the Governor's Mansion and gifts for visiting dignitaries and staffers.
``There's nothing that goes to a personal benefit to me or anyone else involved,'' says Leavitt.
The governor does accept lots of gifts from Utahns, other politicians and visiting dignitaries -- from T-shirts to custom-made shoes to pricey books and vases.
``It's part of the honorary role the governor plays,'' he says. As a means of offsetting the gift-taking, he says he donates about 3 percent of his salary to a nonprofit education foundation.
The Republican chief executive says he would prefer politics sanitized of big money, but adds that is impractical in the age of mass-media campaigns.
``Fund raising is difficult, it's hard and it's uncomfortable,'' says Leavitt.
For someone who finds that pursuit distasteful, he is exceedingly adept at it. Leavitt has broken records for political fund raising in Utah -- churning millions of dollars through his campaign and discretionary accounts during his six years in office.
He raised and spent more than $1.7 million in his first campaign, in 1992, and in his 1996 landslide re-election took in about $745,000.
At the same time he maintains a ``special projects'' fund that as of last report in October showed a balance of more than $600,000 after 1998 spending of $367,000. The bulk of the cash is raised through Leavitt's annual spring gala.
Loose Campaign Limits: Leavitt's successful money-harvesting operations include many large donations that would be illegal under more restrictive federal campaign limits.
Examples from 1998 include a $25,000 lump-sum donation from American Stores and $12,000 worth of donations from Intermountain Health Care, Blue Cross and Blue Shield, Electric Lightwave and TCI Cable. (The Salt Lake Tribune is a wholly owned subsidiary of TCI.)
There also are Olympics-related links.
Fairfax Realty, headed by Salt Lake Organizing Committee (SLOC) member John Price, donated $25,000 to Leavitt's ``special projects'' fund in 1997. Last year, the governor flew on Price's private jet to San Antonio to attend the NCAA basketball playoffs.
SLOC members are appointed by joint consent of the governor and Salt Lake City mayor.
Another member, Earl Holding, whose Snowbasin Ski Resort will play host to some of the 2002 events, dropped $20,000 in Leavitt's re-election. Leavitt flew to Budapest in 1995 on Holding's jet to attend the announcement of Salt Lake City's selection as site of the 2002 Games.
SLOC member Bennie Smith, through his former company, Beneco Enterprises, donated $15,000 to Leavitt in 1992 and $6,000 in 1996. Smith's activities as a former bid committee member in rounding up support from African IOC delegates has come under scrutiny in current investigations.
SLOC member Alan Layton heads companies that have construction contracts for a skating oval in Kearns and more than $37 million in work on a Winter Sports Park. The companies donated about $6,000 to Leavitt last year.
Robert Garff, who is SLOC chairman, contributed more than $13,000 to Leavitt's 1992 campaign, while Tom Welch chipped in $2,500.
Frank Joklik, outgoing SLOC president, donated $1,000 to Leavitt's most recent campaign.
Corradini Also Served on Committee: Many of the biggest Olympic supporters also were boosters of Mayor Corradini, who herself was a member of the bid committee.
Corradini last week announced she would not seek a third term, saying the decision was entirely unrelated to the Olympic scandal.
The mayor could not be reached for comment for this story.
Spokesman Ken Connaughton said she was out of town for several days.
But Connaughton said it was ``a stretch'' to compare Corradini's earlier solicitations of personal donations to IOC members' cash and gift taking. He declined to elaborate except to say, ``there's a little question of quid pro quo.''
Former District Attorney Neal Gunnarson declined to prosecute Corradini because he said no proof could be found that she granted special favors to her donors. New District Attorney David Yocom has promised to re-examine the case.
City Councilwoman Deeda Seed has been one of Corradini's critics.
``Of course there are similarities'' she says of the Olympic scandal and Corradini's giftgate. ``It should be our wakeup call and we need to address these issues in a more direct way.''
Seed observes that Utah leaders have a hard time with introspection.
``People in this community are, for whatever reason, very afraid of asking tough questions,'' she says. ``I don't know whether we're not supposed to question authority or whether we're not supposed to break politeness rules.
``As a community we are quite willing to state our belief that these kinds of activities are quite abhorrent,'' she adds. ``But when it comes to taking an objective look at how we conduct our business as a community and as a state, we're unwilling to take the blinders off.''
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