Secrets and Scandals: Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 27

Monday, September 07, 2015

H. Philip West Jr.

Between 1986 and 2006, Rhode Island ran a gauntlet of scandals that exposed corruption and aroused public rage. Protesters marched on the State House. Coalitions formed to fight for systemic changes. Under intense public pressure, lawmakers enacted historic laws and allowed voters to amend defects in the state’s constitution.

Since colonial times, the legislature had controlled state government. Governors were barred from making many executive appointments, and judges could never forget that on a single day in 1935 the General Assembly sacked the entire Supreme Court.

Without constitutional checks and balances, citizens suffered under single party control. Republicans ruled during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; Democrats held sway from the 1930s into the twenty-first century. In their eras of unchecked control, both parties became corrupt.

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H Philip West's SECRETS & SCANDALS tells the inside story of events that shook Rhode Island’s culture of corruption, gave birth to the nation’s strongest ethics commission, and finally brought separation of powers in 2004. No single leader, no political party, no organization could have converted betrayals of public trust into historic reforms. But when citizen coalitions worked with dedicated public officials to address systemic failures, government changed.

Three times—in 2002, 2008, and 2013—Chicago’s Better Government Association has scored state laws that promote integrity, accountability, and government transparency. In 50-state rankings, Rhode Island ranked second twice and first in 2013—largely because of reforms reported in SECRETS & SCANDALS.

Each week, GoLocalProv will be running a chapter from SECRETS & SCANDALS: Reforming Rhode Island, 1986-2006, which chronicles major government reforms that took place during H. Philip West's years as executive director of Common Cause of Rhode Island. The book is available from the local bookstores found HERE.

Part 3

JUDGES AND LAWMAKERS

27 

Deep Root 1994 

Under the radar and without public announcement, a study group in Common Cause had been digging toward the deep root of Rhode Island’s corruption. Our research began two years earlier. 

In April 1992, I went to negotiate with Sheldon Whitehouse, Gov. Sundlun’s policy chief, on the revolving door bill. Spring sunshine poured into the conference room along with cheering from a co-ed volleyball game outside on the lawn. Whitehouse burst through the door, a shock of dark hair mostly swept to one side. He had a prominent cleft chin and broad smile. “Sorry,” he said, “it’s hard to get off the phone when Bruce calls.” 

He settled at the head of the table with a yellow pad and flipped through a folder of bills to our proposed ban on revolving door jobs. Whitehouse wanted to define carefully which officials would be covered: “Without clarity here, you’ll gum up all kinds of transfers within and between departments.” He explained language from several U.S. Supreme Court decisions relating to people who held “senior policy-making, discretionary, or confidential” positions. That terminology eventually became part of the Revolving Door Law that Sundlun signed — before he challenged its constitutionality.

Whitehouse and I agreed to take the revisions to our higher authorities — he to Sundlun and I to the RIght Now! steering committee. I folded photocopies of the marked-up legislation into my notebook. 

“Five more minutes?” He asked, and then plunged in. “All this work you’ve been doing on ethics and campaign finance reform is good, but you’ll never cut the deep root of Rhode Island’s corruption until you get to separation of powers.” 

I nodded but barely understood what he meant. I knew the term “separation of powers” only vaguely, like “separation of church and state.” I asked how he connected separation of powers with corruption. 

Whitehouse unwrapped his discovery with a grin. “I never saw this as a problem until I became Bruce’s legal counsel. Here I was approving legal payments for boards and commissions that were set up as exclusive franchises, quasi-public bodies that do everything from supplying clean water to processing sewage for discharge into the bay. Every one of them — or so it seemed — was populated with legislators.” 

I tried not to look as ignorant as I felt. 

“Plain and simple,” he went on, “It’s about dispensing jobs — from economic development to the landfill. Pots of public money, heaps of patronage, conflicts up the kazoo.” 

I nodded. “Help me with the part about legal payments.” 

“Tipping contracts at the landfill. We had a beef over legal bills and put a hold on payments. We got static over that. Not where you’d expect from the Solid Waste Management Corporation. Somebody high up in the speaker’s office phoned. ‘Why the hell is Whitehouse not letting these lawyers get paid?’ ” He paused as if that made everything clear. 

“You mean the legislature was really running these quasi-public operations?” 

He nodded. “That flipped a switch from my law school days. The U.S. Supreme Court and courts in other states have always made a sharp distinction: legislatures write laws and executive branch officials enforce those laws. Legislatures legislate, executives execute. In the federal system and in other states, that’s bedrock. The chief executive appoints the bureaucrats who run agencies.” 

“Everywhere but here?”

“Everywhere but here.”

From the hallway came the sound of the bell summoning the House into session.

“The Supreme Court even imposed separation of powers on the Philippines Provisional Government. The Philippines, of all places! It wasn’t even part of the United States, but they deemed it a core principle. My point is that you can’t have American-style democracy without honest-to-God separation of powers. But there’s no such thing in Rhode Island. Never has been. The legislature runs the show.” 

It had the ring of truth, but I felt like an imposter, conversing about constitutional theory when I had never gone to law school. 

“Under proper separation of powers,” Whitehouse explained, “not even the whole legislature gets to make appointments. But in Rhode Island, the speaker of the House appoints the lion’s share of members to powerful boards and commissions that execute laws. For all practical purposes, the speaker and Senate majority leader administer our state’s laws.” 

“So you’re saying the ‘deep root of Rhode Island’s corruption’ is the General Assembly’s power to hire and fire people who carry out the laws they’ve written.” 

“Precisely.” He leaned back in his chair until I caught up taking notes. 

“How did you figure this out?”

“When we came in, Bruce asked me to make a list of reforms that were most urgent — a kind of intellectual ranking. Day in and day out, I tried to figure out which we should push first, second, third. That process kept bringing me back to separation of powers. It’s the bedrock principle of American government everywhere but in Rhode Island.” 

Outside, the session bell kept clanging. “So where’s your legislation? Have I missed it?” 

“We couldn’t get to it right away. We were in the throes of trying to solve the banking crisis and the workers’ comp mess. We were all working impossible hours.” 

I asked what happened. 

“My research showed Rhode Island completely out of line with the rest of the country,” he said. “I drafted a legal brief on separation of powers. Gave it to Bruce.” 

“And?” 

“‘I like that!’” Whitehouse growled in imitation of his mentor and boss. “‘Go ahead! We’ll file it.’” 

“But you didn’t?” 

The young lawyer smiled. “Bruce has an absolute fetish about what he calls ‘touching base.’ He gave each of us a little sign for our desk: ‘Always Touch Base Before Taking Action.’ So, he decided to touch base with the legislative leadership. My brief went up to the third floor.” 

He hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to finish his story. “They were furious. I wasn’t with Bruce when he met with them, but what came back to me was like a hand grenade with the pin pulled: ‘You file that, and we’re done with any kind of cooperation. File that brief, and it’s a fucking declaration of war!’ ” 

The bell was still clanging as I left the policy office. I checked my notes of what he had said. A key phrase stood out: “Your work on ethics and campaign reform is good, but you’ll never cut the deep root of Rhode Island’s corruption until you get to separation of powers.” 

Over the next two years, Common Cause research confirmed Whitehouse’s conclusions. A trove of historic documents showed that the General Assembly had ruled Rhode Island for three centuries. In critical disputes, lawmakers always trumped judges and governors. Practically speaking, necessary checks and balances were nonexistent. Without separation of powers, corruption rooted itself like poison ivy. 

A fireproof safe outside the Senate chamber displayed the Royal Charter of 1663, sealed behind glass. King Charles II of England had granted the charter, and his stern visage adorned its sepia parchment. Archaic English script established the General Assembly as Rhode Island’s government. 

Since colonial times, the legislature had controlled state government. Generations of legislators had guarded their vast, unchecked powers — through the American Revolution and Rhode Island’s Dorr Rebellion of 1842, when “law and order” forces crushed a populist movement led by Thomas Wilson Dorr. The victors adopted Rhode Island’s first Constitution, which allowed the General Assembly to exercise all the powers it had possessed under the Royal Charter unless explicitly prohibited in the Constitution. The legislature could do whatever it pleased. 

Governors were barred from making many executive appointments, and judges could never forget that on a single day in 1935, Rhode Island’s “Bloodless Revolution,” the General Assembly had sacked the entire Supreme Court. Through scandals and upheavals nothing had brought separation of powers to Rhode Island.

By the 1990s, the General Assembly controlled the state through scores of boards that oversaw coastal development, funded water projects, awarded scholarships, floated bonds, operated video slot machines, disposed of trash, processed sewage, and carried out dozens of other administrative functions. The legislature had created these bodies and then appointed its own members to run them. Our research confirmed what Whitehouse had explained to me two years earlier. 

 

On an August afternoon in 1994, Common Cause devoted a special meeting to separation of powers. We asked two lawyers to guide us. The first, Robert D. Kilmarx, was a member of our advisory council and had taken a pivotal case to the state Supreme Court in 1986. “Our case,” he began, “involved the Coastal Resources Management Council, which we call by its initials, the CRMC. The controversy centered on a proposal to build a sixty-room time-share hotel on Easton’s Beach. Many of you know that lovely beach between Newport and Middletown.” Kilmarx explained that he and another lawyer represented a neighborhood group, the Easton’s Point Association, which opposed the project. 

“The developers did better,” Kilmarx said. “They hired Joe DeAngelis, the House majority leader.” He paused to let that fact sink in. “The statute establishing the CRMC requires that legislative leaders appoint a majority of its members. On the day of the key vote, all eight legislative appointees showed up, and they all voted for the DeAngelis-supported hotel. We lost by two votes.” 

Around the Common Cause board table, we all groaned. 

“We appealed to the Superior Court, where Judge Ronald Lagueux asked for briefs on a crucial issue: whether the law requiring legislative appointments to the CRMC was constitutional. We found a 1982 case from North Carolina, Wallace v. Bone, where the state Supreme Court ruled that a coastal body partially appointed by the legislature was unconstitutional. We argued that legislative appointments also made the CRMC unconstitutional.” 

Heads nodded. 

“In a truly eloquent decision, Judge Lagueux declared that the CRMC appointment scheme violated separation of powers. He wrote that the law requiring that legislative leaders appoint eight members of a seventeen-member board — two representatives, two senators, and four public members — usurped the governor’s power to appoint officials who execute state laws.” 

Kilmarx opened a manila folder. “Listen to what Judge Lagueux wrote: ‘The position that the appointment power rests with the General Assembly, carried to its logical conclusion, would allow the legislature a free hand to appoint all administrative personnel in government. If the legislature can control all appointments to the executive branch, save the governor, then in essence the governor is nothing more than a ceremonial head of state.’ ” 

Kilmarx savored Lagueux’s words and continued: “DeAngelis, of course, appealed to the Rhode Island Supreme Court. You remember that all five justices were former legislators — all chosen in Grand Committee. They were all keenly aware that the Grand Committee could dismiss them, exactly as it sacked their predecessors in the Bloodless Revolution.” 

The Supreme Court had issued its ruling in March of 1987, with Chief Justice Thomas F. Fay writing a unanimous opinion. “Curiously,” Kilmarx observed, “They didn’t overrule Lagueux on the merits of the case, but on a technicality. They said it was improper for Lagueux to raise separation of powers on his own, since both parties had submitted themselves to the jurisdiction of CRMC. The court said our neighborhood and environmental groups could not turn around and challenge CRMC’s constitutional legitimacy.” 

Disbelief rippled through the room, and Kilmarx closed with a curious footnote. The community group had run out of judicial options, and the developers got their permit to build. “But then a recession hit and the developer ran out of money,” he said. “The time-share never went up. We lost the battle but won the war. Unfortunately, the Supreme Court never ruled on the merits of our separation of powers case.” 

“How could we get them to do that?” asked Bill Colleran. 

“We would need a contested case,” Kilmarx said. “Some litigant who lost before CRMC or one of the other administrative bodies and was ready to appeal on separation of powers grounds.” 

Sheldon Whitehouse, recently appointed U.S. Attorney for Rhode Island, had arrived during Kilmarx’s presentation. I reminded the board how he had introduced me to separation of powers. 

“You could be at the beach today,” Whitehouse began with a smile, “or maybe out on the water. But I’m glad you’re here.” He slid his chair closer to the table. “Our problem in Rhode Island is that the legislature exercises broad appointing power of a kind forbidden to Congress by the Supreme Court. By naming people to boards that execute state laws, the speaker and Senate majority leader control most of state government.” 

Still not forty, Whitehouse had survived his baptism of fire on Sundlun’s staff during the winter and spring of RISDIC. It was plain why Sundlun and U.S. Senator Claiborne Pell had taken him under their wings. He loved legal ideas and seemed to gain both competence and confidence in each new post. 

Whitehouse affirmed Bob Kilmarx’s presentation of the Easton’s Beach case. “Members of the legislature profit handsomely from their ability to make appointments and also represent clients before agencies. That should never happen, but it happens frequently. And that’s why the impetus for change has to come from outside government.” 

“What about the governor?” asked Greta Abbott. “Your former boss, Sundlun? He’s had four years to take this on. If it’s so crucial, why hasn’t he uttered a peep about this?” 

“Because the immediate pressures of governing prevented him from doing so,” Whitehouse replied. “We raised the question with House leaders, but they let us know in no uncertain terms that to proceed with separation of powers would be a ‘declaration of war.’ Everything else would stop. 

“When something goes south in Rhode Island government, we blame some corrupt politician. In fact, Ed DiPrete may be a crook, or Bob Bianchini may have had countless conflicts. But they got away with corrupt practices because the system failed to deter them. In my experience, trouble starts when some governmental mechanism fails. I start from the assumption that government is an engine that can be fixed. 

“Montesquieu and Locke had theorized about separation of powers,” he continued, “but our founders put it into practice. They designed American government with inherent rivalries. Congress could make laws, the president and cabinet could execute them, and the courts could resolve disputes. Separate functions gave the branches turf interests that each would defend. Madison wrote that each branch of government must have the means and the motives to ‘resist the encroachments of the others. Ambition must be made to counteract ambition.’ ” 

Whitehouse brought his argument forward to a series of U.S. Supreme Court rulings. “The bedrock is that Congress can create a position but cannot appoint the officer who fills it. One case arose when the Philippines were under American control. Legislators had set up coal, banking, and other companies and put themselves on the boards. Because the islands were under American jurisdiction, a lawsuit went all the way to the Supreme Court, which ruled that legislative appointments were unconstitutional on separation of powers grounds. 

“After Watergate, Congress passed a law that created the Federal Elections Commission and directed congressional leaders to appoint some of the FEC’s members. Again, the Supreme Court declared those legislative appointments unconstitutional because they violated separation of powers. That ruling, Buckley v. Valeo, required the president to make those appointments with the advice and consent of the Senate.” 

Like a law professor, Whitehouse traced other cases. 

“The problem in Rhode Island,” he explained, “is that the General Assembly has few effective checks on its power. Some of our most significant public functions take place in administrative agencies where lawmakers sit as voting members: CRMC, Solid Waste Management, and lots of others. Legislators constitute a majority on the Unclassified Pay Plan Board, and you know how Matty Smith manipulated that. Our legislature bestows insider opportunities on favored people, and they repay the favor. If you’ll excuse a coarse phrase: ‘You don’t kick your own ass.’ ” 

After Whitehouse and Kilmarx answered questions, the board voted unanimously to establish separation of powers as its highest priority. Board president Cathy Speer asked for a second motion to create a task force to pursue separation of powers. She said it would develop strategy, draft legislation, engage other groups, and educate the public. 

“So moved,” said several people at once, and our task force was born. 

 

For two centuries, Rhode Island’s industrial wastes and raw sewage had flushed directly into the Narragansett Bay. In 1980, to end this fetid discharge and comply with the Federal Clean Water Act of 1972, Gov. J. Joseph Garrahy proposed to create the Narragansett Bay Commission (NBC). The NBC would treat sewage from metropolitan Providence and the Blackstone Valley, including North Providence, Johnston, Pawtucket, Central Falls, Cumberland, Lincoln, the northern portion of East Providence, and small sections of Cranston and Smithfield. It would issue bonds and collect funds directly from sewage ratepayers in its catchment area. Garrahy envisioned a small board that would be appointed by the governor and confirmed by the Senate. 

During the General Assembly’s deliberations, Garrahy’s proposed nine-member commission more than doubled in size to twenty-three members and included two representatives appointed by the speaker and two senators named by the majority leader. 

North Providence Rep. Vincent J. Mesolella Jr. got a seat on the NBC board in 1980 and ten years later became its chairman. In 1993, when John B. Harwood was elected speaker of the House, Mesolella became deputy House majority whip. With dual roles in the House leadership and the sprawling sewage treatment authority, he hosted lavish parties for politicians and lobbyists, who toasted him as “Mr. Chairman.” 

Proof of Mesolella’s clout came in his campaign cash. Beverly Clay, a leader in the recently renamed Operation Clean Government (formerly Operation Clean Sweep), analyzed contributions to top legislative leaders for 1993–94. Her figures showed that Mesolella had amassed $101,840, more than any other member of the General Assembly except John Harwood. Clay noted that only seven percent of Mesolella’s campaign contributions came from residents of his North Providence district; NBC employees gave $5,249 during the two-year election cycle, and NBC bidders or vendors contributed $21,775. During the two years after officers of New England Treatment Co. (NETCO) donated $2,125 to Mesolella, the commission paid their company $417,995. 

Mesolella earned his living as a developer and was never fastidious about conflicts of interest. He was half owner of Cogenics Inc., a start-up company that sought to build an incinerator capable of turning waste into electricity and heat. Under his leadership, Cogenics scored a coup. A Baltimore company, Enviro-Gro, was negotiating with the Narragansett Bay Commission to convert sewage sludge into fertilizer pellets, but it shelved plans to fire its plant with natural gas and signed a deal with Cogenics instead. The two companies submitted a joint proposal to the NBC. 

Besides chairing the NBC’s board, Mesolella also headed its Committee on Construction, Engineering, and Operations. During a meeting where the joint venture from Enviro-Gro and Cogenics was discussed, Mesolella stepped away from his chair and sat in the audience, apparently to comply with an advisory from the Ethics Commission that he not personally participate in the conversation. He insisted afterward that he had not said a word. When reporter Thomas Frank pointed to his name and comments in minutes of the meeting, Mesolella acknowledged that he had spoken only “to clarify a point.” Then, after eight months of controversy over the Enviro-Gro and Cogenics proposal, the NBC restarted the bidding process. 

Mesolella next promoted a new deal with NETCO, which was already burning trash and sewage sludge at its Woonsocket plant. Late in 1993, the Bay Commission picked NETCO to build and operate a $17.9 million incinerator at the edge of Washington Park, a South Providence neighborhood. 

Community groups protested that the plant would spew toxic gasses and ash into the city’s poorest neighborhoods. The non-profit organization Save the Bay criticized the NBC in particular for failing to consider composting, an approach that might save money without harming the environment.

Sen. Myrth York sponsored a 1994 bill to block the incinerator, pending scientific evidence that it would not pose health risks. York’s legislation passed the Senate but died in the House Corporations Committee. She blamed Mesolella, citing his role as deputy House majority whip, and called for his resignation. “Frankly,” she told reporters, “I see little chance that this vital legislation can pass when, for members of the House, a vote in favor of the bill constitutes a slap in the face of one of their most powerful colleagues.” 

No one seemed able to block the incinerator. The Public Utilities Commission, the attorney general, and the governor all challenged its legality and sought to delay the signing of a contract until the issue could be resolved in court. But nothing deterred Mesolella. Environmental reporter Robert Frederiksen wrote that, after an hour-long, closed-door session, NBC board members authorized Mesolella to sign the contract with NETCO.

I met Frederiksen for the first time on a slow elevator going up to a meeting of the NBC board. A seasoned journalist whose hair had gone gray, he wore a rumpled gray tweed jacket. With a knowing grin, he asked what brought me there. 

“Your stories,” I said, and we both laughed. 

We stepped into a lobby where huge windows framed a view down to Promenade Street and westward along the tree-lined Woonasquatucket River. Frederiksen drew me to a quiet spot. “I hear you’re going after separation of powers,” he began. 

I told him Common Cause had made the issue our highest priority. 

“You’d be taking away their bread and butter,” he replied. “I think you’re in for a hell of a fight.” 

We entered the hearing room together. Members of the NBC board sat around a large table. Staff and environmental advocates filled seats along the walls as Mesolella held forth at the head of the table. 

“Uh-oh,” he exclaimed. “The Providence Journal and Common Cause have just arrived. From here on, nothing improper, please.” 

Laughter filled the room. 

Mesolella had the neck, shoulders, and arms of a body-builder. While exuding power, he ran his agenda graciously, and the meeting purred like a luxury car. At the end, he adjourned with thanks to all who attended. Lobbyists and board members thronged around him. 

No wonder Rhode Island was in trouble. State law placed Mesolella in a position to wield vast executive powers with virtually no checks or balances. The Narragansett Bay Commission employed a staff of 250 and collected nearly $30 million each year from ratepayers. Ensconced in his quasi-public fortress with powerful allies at the State House, Mesolella could withstand a protracted political siege. 

Back at our office, I immersed myself in drafting the separation of powers bills we would propose in 1995. Each would remove legislators from boards that exercised executive powers and would end legislative appointments. One prime target was the Narragansett Bay Commission. 

 

The RIght Now! Coalition had surprised both skeptics and cynics. Our landmark ethics and campaign finance reforms had all become law in 1992, and voters approved our four-year terms constitutional amendment. We built on that base in 1994 with further amendments that established merit selection for all Rhode Island judges and modernized the General Assembly. 

Alan Hassenfeld invited the steering committee to celebrate over a December dinner at Hasbro headquarters in Pawtucket. We gathered for cocktails and hors d’oeuvres in a glassed-in garden room: religious leaders, executives from chambers of commerce, environmental advocates, heads of civil rights and reform groups. 

“I’m thrilled you’re all here,” Hassenfeld said, his sleeves rolled up and rubber bands around both wrists. “We’ve accomplished things together that are truly historic. Load up your plates and enjoy yourselves. We have only one item of business tonight. Over dessert, Phil will regale you with a new challenge.” 

Feeding on flame-grilled meats and vegetables, members of the steering committee marveled at victories racked up in less than four years since we first joined forces. Leaders who barely trusted each other at the beginning had become fast friends. 

“This is an astonishing assembly,” the toymaker said with mock seriousness. “I hope you all remember that there are only thirteen shopping days left until Christmas.” 

Hassenfeld waited for the laughter to subside. “Seriously, we’ve proved again what can happen when people of diverse backgrounds and interests commit themselves — if you’ll excuse my pun — in a common cause.” 

He smiled mischievously. “Did I really say that? Well it’s true, and we’ve depended on Common Cause for many proposals that have made a real difference. And we’ll hear one more tonight. I’m going to ask my vice chairperson to lay it on you.” 

I thanked him for the fine meal and for his leadership. I catalogued our accomplishments and focused on the impact of our 1992 Campaign Finance Law. “The data show that Linc Almond and Myrth York spent almost equal amounts. They both got their message out, and the winner’s spending dropped 65 percent from what Bruce Sundlun spent in 1990. Linc Almond will take office next month without being in anybody’s pocket.” 

Gary Sasse started the clapping. He and Marcel Valois — who first suggested that Alan Hassenfeld lead the coalition — had begun work as co-chairs of the governor-elect’s transition team. I thanked Sasse for proposing the Blue Ribbon Commission and shepherding its members through the study. 

“Here! Here!” someone called, and applause spread again. 

“Thanks to Gary,” I said, “we’ve laid the groundwork for a more responsive, more professional, and less corrupt General Assembly.” 

I rehearsed the struggle for merit selection of judges and our 70 percent statewide victory. “Governor Almond will exercise that power when he appoints a new chief justice.” 

Cheers and clapping filled the room. 

“Looking ahead, I want to enlist your support for separation of powers.” I moved between the round tables, describing the 1992 meeting when Sheldon Whitehouse raised the issue. “One comment struck me then and has stayed with me ever since. He said the work we were doing on ethics and campaign finance reform was good. ‘But,’ he said, ‘you’ll never cut the deep root of Rhode Island’s corruption until you get to separation of powers.’ ” 

Around the tables, no one stirred. Beyond the glass walls lay darkness. 

I sketched Rhode Island’s unbroken legislative supremacy since colonial times. “It was only as we looked at the scores of boards where lawmakers execute the very laws they’ve written that I began to understand.” I distributed lists of the seven boards where Common Cause proposed to start. “I won’t pretend that changing these boards will be easy,” I said. “Ultimately, we’ll have to amend the Constitution again. But with broad support from RIght Now! we can do this.” 

“Good you said it won’t be easy,” Jim Hagan interrupted. He headed the Greater Providence Chamber of Commerce and had served in the state Senate. “This ‘legislative supremacy,’ as you called it, is their bedrock and has been since the Royal Charter of 1663. They will not give it up. Pushing separation of powers to Rhode Island will bring all-out trench warfare.” 

“So what are you saying?” Jim Miller asked. “That we shouldn’t take this on because it’s deeply engrained?” 

Hagan smiled. “I’m saying that what Phil has told us is true. But as the head of the Chamber, I can’t recommend separation of powers to my board at this time. The business community has priorities that would go down in flames if we took this on.” 

Amid the glow of tiny white holiday lights, heavy silence filled the room. 

“I agree with Jim,” said John Gregory, recently hired as president of the Northern Rhode Island Chamber of Commerce. “I don’t claim to know the issue as well as Jim does, but I can’t take us on a kamikaze mission.” 

Near a glass wall with darkness behind him, Curt Spalding stood to speak. “I can’t say what Save the Bay might decide,” he said, “but I’ll tell you from firsthand experience that legislative appointments on these quasi-public boards are hugely problematic. I’ve been frustrated with three of the seven boards on this list. They were set up for good purposes, but legislative appointees have repeatedly skewed their decisions for political reasons. Like the chambers of commerce, we have practical reasons to shy away from separation of powers, but this is a core issue. It won’t go away. There are so few checks on legislative power. The leadership gets whatever they want, and they’re infiltrating more legislators every year.” 

“What will you recommend to your board?” Alan Hassenfeld asked. 

“I’m not sure,” Spalding said. “We have environmental priorities to consider.” 

Jim Miller rose at his seat. “I can’t say what our interfaith community will decide, and I need to learn more about this. If this really is the root of Rhode Island’s corruption, and if it’s getting worse every year, I don’t know how we can simply stand aside. I acknowledge that the Council of Churches has fewer legislative priorities than the business community, so I’m going to ask our people to look at this issue.” 

“Is there any consensus?” Hassenfeld asked. 

For a long moment no one spoke. Then Gary Sasse raised a hand. “I don’t think the RIPEC board would go beyond what the chambers will do. At the same time, this separation of powers issue goes to the heart of what’s wrong with our state. If we’re not ready to fight, maybe we should put RIght Now! into hibernation again. At least until there’s more clarity.” 

“I’m for that,” said Jim Hagan from his seat. “Alan can always call us together.” 

No one else spoke.

“ ‘Hibernation again’?” Hassenfeld asked. “Is that where we are?”

Heads nodded.

Hassenfeld tamped his pipe but did not light it. “So we’re not saying no. We’re just not saying yes yet?”

“Maybe not yes for a long time,” Hagan corrected. “Maybe never.”

“But individual groups are welcome to work with Common Cause,” Jim Miller suggested. “Only not under the RIght Now! banner?”

Alan Hassenfeld confirmed: “So our consensus is not to dissolve RIght Now! but to hibernate again.”

Steering committee members were subdued as they left Hasbro’s garden room. Alan Hassenfeld walked me to the main entrance. “You heard legitimate caution tonight,” he said gently. “The chambers of commerce really would suffer worse than any of our other groups.” We stood talking inside large glass doors. “Let’s stay in touch,” he said. “If this becomes war, I intend to support Common Cause. Let me know when you need funds for legal briefs or whatever.” 

Our handshake became a hug. Outside, the December night was bitterly cold. I walked across the nearly empty parking lot to my car. Why had I thought they would take this on? Could we wage this war without a powerful coalition? 

At least Hassenfeld understood and said he would help.

 

H. Philip West Jr. served from 1988 to 2006 as executive director of Common Cause Rhode Island. SECRETS & SCANDALS: Reforming Rhode Island, 1986-2006, chronicles major government reforms during those years.
He helped organize coalitions that led in passage of dozens of ethics and open government laws and five major amendments to the Rhode Island Constitution, including the 2004 Separation of Powers Amendment.

West hosted many delegations from the U.S. State Department’s International Visitor Leadership Program that came to learn about ethics and separation of powers. In 2000, he addressed a conference on government ethics laws in Tver, Russia. After retiring from Common Cause, he taught Ethics in Public Administration to graduate students at the University of Rhode Island.

Previously, West served as pastor of United Methodist churches and ran a settlement house on the Bowery in New York City. He helped with the delivery of medicines to victims of the South African-sponsored civil war in Mozambique and later assisted people displaced by Liberia’s civil war. He has been involved in developing affordable housing, day care centers, and other community services in New York, Connecticut, and Rhode Island.

West graduated, Phi Beta Kappa, from Hamilton College in Clinton, N.Y., received his masters degree from Union Theological Seminary in New York City, and published biblical research he completed at Cambridge University in England. In 2007, he received an honorary Doctor of Laws degree from Rhode Island College.

Since 1965 he has been married to Anne Grant, an Emmy Award-winning writer, a nonprofit executive, and retired United Methodist pastor. They live in Providence and have two grown sons, including cover illustrator Lars Grant-West. 

This electronic version of SECRETS & SCANDALS: Reforming Rhode Island, 1986-2006 omits notes, which fill 92 pages in the printed text.

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Related Slideshow: Rhode Island’s History of Political Corruption

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• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Eleven
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Twelve
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Seven
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Six
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Two
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Three
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Four
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Five
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Thirteen
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter Fourteen
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 22
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 21
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 23
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 24
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 25
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 20
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 19
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 15
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 16
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 17
• Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 18
• Secrets and Scandals: Secrets and Scandals - Reforming Rhode Island 1986-2006, Chapter 26

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