The handwriting on the wall

Watching the Grand Jury saga in Pennsylvania resembles watching Massachusetts' future unfolding.

Patronage?

Naw! Senator Rosenberg assures 'we'll do it right!'

Probation Dept. anyone? Former Speakers?

Anyone who has taken the time to read any or all of the versions presented on Beacon Hill fully understands that there are inadequate provisions to prevent a Pennsylvania redux.

Pat Howard: Grand jury rebuke of gaming panel is troubling, but hardly surprising

Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board Chairman Greg Fajt belatedly thought better of his glib dismissal of a statewide grand jury's scathing assessment of how the process of licensing the state's casinos "neglected or wholly ignored" the public interest.

Fajt initially said the grand jury's report, made public May 24, was nothing but "a rehash of 'old news,'" and went on to set a rather low standard for the integrity of public bodies and processes. "After this grand jury met for more than two years, there were no arrests, no presentments, no indictments," he said.

How inspiring.

The pushback resulted in a second statement from Fajt, issued Wednesday, that carried an entirely different tune and sought to reassure the public about what news coverage and commentary "inferred" from his original comments.

No one had to infer anything. Fajt's message was crystal clear.

The grand jury's findings have been widely reported -- patronage; excessive secrecy; investigative interference; an overarching bias toward getting applicants approved and the money flowing; the "scrubbing" of derogatory information from final reports to the Gaming Control Board.

That the grand jury used the licensing of Presque Isle Downs & Casino as an example of what went wrong has also received a lot of attention, especially in this corner of the state. The grand jury said it focused its findings on Presque Isle Downs and a few other case studies because cataloging everything "would require a report of unmanageable complexity."

But what struck me in reading those 97 pages is how sadly familiar and even predictable it all feels. And while none of it happened on Fajt's watch, and some (though not the most important) reforms have been made, his clueless response only adds to the effect.

What the grand jury uncovered might not be criminal. But it's so Pennsylvania.

Passage of the 2004 slots law was one of those backroom, middle-of-the-night Harrisburg specials. That set the tone as all involved turned to the daunting task of creating from scratch, under tight timelines, a bureaucracy to regulate an industry that always bears watching closely.

An excellent place to start would be hiring people with experience and savvy in that arena. They were paying enough to recruit sharp prospects.

But patronage draws Harrisburg power brokers the way chum attracts sharks. The grand jury's report details how testimony indicated that job candidates frequently came with a push from legislators or Gaming Control Board commissioners, which had a way of becoming those candidates' overriding qualification.

The report also said the Gaming Control Board largely hired key employees from other state agencies, boosting their pay, rather than finding people with stronger and more applicable credentials. It cited as an example the hiring of Susan Hensel, an 18-year state employee with no experience in applying gaming law, as director of licensing.

The grand jury said Hensel testified "she had no involvement in many key decisions in the licensing process," didn't read applicant suitability reports she signed off on, and characterized her job as "clerical" in nature. The gig paid just short of $120,000.

It's worth noting in the context of Harrisburg as usual that the three powerful legislative figures specifically cited in the hiring mischief now face bigger issues. Former state Rep. Mike Veon is serving a hefty prison term for unrelated public corruption, former House Speaker Bill DeWeese awaits trial on similar charges, and former top DeWeese aide Michael Manzo cut a plea deal that includes cooperating with the Attorney General's Office.

One point raised by some on whom the grand jury's report reflects poorly is that it's one side of the story and leans toward a prosecutorial perspective. There's something to that, though the supporting information is compelling and it's probably as close as we'll get to connecting the dots.

But at least the grand jurors seem to remember what they saw and heard as they went about their business, unlike quite a few of the witnesses who appeared before them. The grand jury notes, for instance, that almost every licensing lawyer "had a complete inability to recall events, instructions, or participation in the preparation of the final reports."

"While the grand jury recognizes that some time has passed since the award of licenses, it is inconceivable that an entire group of employees could have collective amnesia regarding a vital aspect of their job," the report said.

Fajt crowed in his original statement about the $5.1 billion in taxes and fees the state has collected from casino gambling, along with the 14,000 jobs the industry has created. "If that does not spell success, I don't know what does," he said.

Those are impressive numbers indeed. But then everyone knew the casinos would produce truckloads of ready cash and the assorted temptations that come with it, which was why getting the oversight right was and is so crucial.

In the business of legalized vice, the ends are pretty much a given. It's the means we have to worry about.