Feeds:
Posts
Comments

This might be considered a break from state politics and in a way, it is. At the same time, however, there is a tenuous link—a tongue-in-cheek link, to be sure, but a link nonetheless.

It is a somewhat convoluted story centered around a former co-worker. Harley Purvis (not his real name) worked with me for about 10 years as a claims adjuster for the Louisiana Office of Risk Management (ORM). A legend in his own mind, he retired about a decade before I managed to make a less than graceful exit to watching the mail for my monthly pension check.

Harley was a hoot. He was never shy about boasting of his self-anointed title of political kingmaker (or king-breaker, depending upon which politician was the subject of the day’s conversation) during coffee breaks in the old Department of Education building.

We so looked forward to those breaks because we knew ol’ Harley would regale us with tales of his epic exploits which approached reality only in his vivid imagination. All other conversation would cease whenever he began with his obligatory “I’ll tell you one damned thing…,” because we knew he was about to bestow his unique version of the truth upon us.

He claimed to be president of the board of a country club in a neighboring parish but a single phone call by yours truly confirmed that he was neither president nor even a member of the club’s board of directors. A club member, yes. But President? you can check that box “no.”

There were normally up to a dozen—maybe even more—present at many of the breaks at which he generally held court. No one at those breaks ever challenged his claims—mostly because no one wanted to interrupt his wildly imaginative flights of fancy.

When Edwin Edwards defeated Buddy Roemer in the 1993 governor’s election, Harley spread the word that he was in line to be the next commissioner of administration.

Of course, it didn’t happen. Weeks later, after Edwards mysteriously passed over Harley in favor of another, I asked him at break what happened to his appointment. Without missing a beat, Harley simply informed us that “They didn’t get the money right.” This at a time when claims adjusters for ORM topped out at somewhere around $30,000.

When Harley’s high school class scheduled its reunion (there was no word which reunion it was, but it must have been at least his 35th or 40th), he immediately began his preparations for the big event by dying his hair jet black—with liquid shoe polish.

Predictably, the polish soon began running down the back of his neck, soaking into his shirt collar. ORM’s claims officer walked past his cubicle and, seeing the streaking shoe polish oozing down his neck, asked, “Harley, what the hell happened to you?”

He once ran for the state civil service board and after taking time off to campaign throughout the state, finished last.

Anytime anyone at break mentioned any prominent resident of the parish where his country club was located, Harley would always twist his first two fingers together, hold them up and proclaim, “We’re just like this. He always sits at my table when we have a function at the country club.”

After about the 20th time hearing this (about 20 different “tight friends”), I asked, “Harley, how many tables do you wait on at these country club functions?” That was probably the angriest I ever saw him but everyone else got a good laugh.

He once spotted an attractive lady who worked for another agency in our building. Unaware that I knew her, he confided in me that he had a date with her for the coming weekend. Intent on giving her a heads up about his misplaced narcissism, I quietly made my way to her and asked her if she knew Harley. “Who?” she said. I pointed him out and informed her that he said he had a date with her. “Oh, God, no!” she blurted. “I don’t have a date with him this weekend or ever. I have to stop this.”

I never learned what she said to him but when I later asked him how his date went, Harley said, “I cancelled it. I found out she’s married.”

She wasn’t.

For the then-approaching 1997 elections, he boasted that he had to start lining up his campaign contributions because “You have to know where to put your money. That’s how I keep my political power.”

“But isn’t it illegal for civil service employees to contribute to political campaigns?” I asked.

“Hell, I’m not stupid. I give the money to my mother and she passes out the contributions.”

“So, in other words, your mama has political influence and you’ve got squat.”

That was the second time I made him angry. “I don’t know why I even talk to you,” he muttered, walking away.

Never one to be discouraged, he nevertheless did continue talking to me, later telling me his girlfriend was moving back to Louisiana from Houston. Hooking his thumbs in his belt buckle, he drawled, “I guess I’m gonna have to call Edwin (Gov. Edwards, whom he apparently knew on a first-name basis) and get her a job at (an area university).”

A couple of hours afterward, I walked into the copy room and found a female co-worker already at the copier. As I waited my turn, I related that conversation to her in full Harley Purvis mode—right down to the thumbs in the buckle. As I embellished his drawl, I noticed her eyes widening and her mouth trying to form words.

“He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?” I asked, still imitating his distinctive cadence and inflection.

She could only nod in silent assent.

I turned and said, “Hello, Harley” and retreated to my cubicle. Nothing else one can do when busted like that.

As his retirement date approached, Harley became bolder and even more boastful with his fellow adjusters.

“When I retire, I’m gonna work as an investigator for a plaintiff attorney and I’m gonna bring this agency to its knees,” he said more than once.

Fast forward a few years and ORM becomes the first state agency to be privatized by Gov. Bobby Jindal—at a cost to the state of nearly $75 million. It was $68 million at first but the company that took over ORM, F.A. Richard and Associates (FARA) of Mandeville came back in only about eight months for a 10 percent ($6.8 million) amendment to its contract.

Then, less than a month after getting that amendment approved, FARA sold its contract to another company from Ohio which only a few months later, sold out to a New York firm—despite a clause in the state contract that strictly forbade transfer of the contract without prior written approval. No prior written approval was ever given.

Meanwhile, word coming out of ORM indicates that workers comp claims payments are about $10 million more than before privatization. So instead of the privatization saving the projected $20 million, the state now is in a $10 million hole and will now have to see a savings of $30 million to reach that $20 million estimate—and it doesn’t seem likely that those savings will ever be realized.

With a third company now serving as ORM’s third party administrator, accountability and transparency are out the window insofar as the agency is concerned.

So in retrospect, perhaps Harley was right. Maybe he was behind the privatization movement. Maybe he helped to run up the excess claims payments.

It may have taken 10 or more years, but hey, who’s to say ol’ Harley wasn’t sandbagging us all those years?

Can anyone say with any degree of certainty that he wasn’t instrumental in “bringing this agency to its knees?”

Who knew?

“In mid-December I sent you a report documenting the gross inflation of the high school performance scores. The department covered up the inflation by intentionally mislabeling an important column of data in the initial public release of the scores.”

—Grayson teacher Herb Bassett, testifying before the Senate Education Committee on Wednesday that his research of Department of Education (DOE) data “revealed deceit, distortion, manipulation of scores and data suppression.”

“I haven’t heard anything about that but I will certainly look into it.”

—Board of Elementary and Secondary Education (BESE) President Chas Roemer, when called to the witness table by the committee to answer questions about Bassett’s charges.

The vote was a foregone conclusion; the minds were made up long before the Senate Education Committee members cast their votes to kill SB 41 by Sen. Bob Kostelka (R-Monroe).

The vote that killed the bill was anti-climactic at best. The testimony of a band director and self-proclaimed “highly qualified” math teacher, however, provided the bombshell that Superintendent John White and the Board of Elementary and Secondary Education (BESE) would rather you not know.

His testimony evoked memories of Michelle Rhee’s tumultuous reign in Washington, D.C. and of more recent events in Atlanta.

It was purely academic that only two of the eight committee members would vote in favor of sending the bill to make the Louisiana Superintendent of Education position elective again after nearly two decades of having an appointive superintendent.

And one of those two votes in favor—that of Sen. Mike Walsworth (R-West Monroe) was purely for show because (a) he knew the result well in advance, so his vote would not affect the outcome and (b) about 75 percent of those attending the committee meeting were from Ouachita Parish—and they all supported the bill. Walsworth, if nothing else, is at least capable of reading a room.

Walsworth, you may remember, was the senator who last year made a complete ass of himself during a committee hearing on science vs. creationism. A teacher was testifying about how her science students were growing cultures in her classroom when Walsworth asked the stupefyingly inane question of whether the cultures could produce humans.

This is your senator, Ouachita Parish. Be proud.

But enough of Walworth’s political pandering and asinine questions; Herb Bassett of nearby Grayson was the real story because his testimony placed charges on the table that heretofore have only been whispered about in the halls of the Claiborne Building.

Where others within the Department of Education (DOE) have alluded privately to data suppression and manipulation of school performance scores that artificially inflated graduation rates, Bassett, a band director who said he was “highly qualified” to teach math, publicly charged White, BESE and DOE of misrepresenting test scores and then covering up the lie by removing the data from the Louisiana Believes website. “This is data suppression,” Bassett said.

He said he was asked by his principal last October to look into his school’s score so that it could be improved in the future. “My subsequent research revealed deceit, distortion, manipulation of scores and data suppression,” he said.

“In mid-December, I sent you a report documenting the gross inflation of the high school performance scores. The Department covered up the inflation by intentionally mislabeling an important column of data in the initial public release of the scores.”

Bassett clarified that statement later, saying he sent his findings to all 144 state legislators and every school district superintendent and that he received an acknowledgement from the legislative assistant to Sen. Conrad Appel (R-Metairie), chairman of the committee, that Appel had received his report.

“The data, the Transition Baselines, showed that the GEE (Graduation Exit Exam)—which was being phased out—and the new EOC (End of Course) tests were mis-calibrated by 7.5 points. That’s half a letter grade,” Bassett said. “Had it been correctly labeled, the inflation would have been obvious—at least to me.”

Meanwhile, he said, BESE was given a different version of the scores with the Transition Baselines correctly labeled. “This shows intent to deceive,” he said.

LouisianaVoice has received information from several sources inside DOE that corroborate Bassett’s claim but because of DOE’s refusal to provide requested records, little has been written about the claimed deception.

He later provided LouisianaVoice with a copy of the report that he sent to legislators and local school superintendents. We will be expanding on that report in subsequent posts.

Bassett further cited what he claimed was manipulation of scores.

“At Mr. White’s first BESE meeting as State Superintendent, the department recommended a graduation index formula change. The change ensured that scores would only go up or stay the same. This raised the average score another four points.

“Thanks to the Transition Baselines, the switching to the EOC did not affect the growth scores but this (the graduation index formula change) did. There are at least 20 schools that would not have earned top gains status without it. That’s over $160,000 in those big checks passed out in PR campaigns,” he said in reference to recent teacher bonuses passed out by DOE as performance awards.

“And the graduation rate data set that I used to compute this has been removed from the Louisiana Believes website (the DOE website). That is data suppression.”

Bassett said he made a five-minute video explaining the problems with the 2011 and 2012 DOE reports on the Value Added Model (VAM), also known as COMPASS, the department’s teacher evaluation program. He said the problems he found “clearly contradict DOE’s current claim that VAM is stable. “This inconvenient data have been suppressed,” he said.

He said LEAP and iLEAP data files that contain the actual numbers of students at each achievement level have been removed. “Only percentage data are given,” he said. “Meanwhile, the new School Assessment System will award bonus points based on the number or percent—whichever is greater—of non-proficient students who surpass their VAM targets. This biased system more generously awards points to schools with over 100 non-proficient students. Without the (actual) numbers, we will not know which schools disproportionately benefit from it.

“Most of the data I used are gone from the new website,” he said.

He said that White is asking “that we believe that VAM has miraculously become stable since the reports by its creators have disappeared.”

Though Bassett did not elaborate on the latter point, LouisianaVoice also has received information that the creators of VAM later became concerned at the direction the program was taking and sent several emails expressing that apprehension to superiors who ignored the messages.

BESE president Chas Roemer (R-Baton Rouge) was called to the witness table and asked about Bassett’s charges. Roemer said he had heard nothing about Bassett’s claims, but that he would “look into it.”

It would difficult to imagine that the president of BESE would know nothing of claims of manipulation of data by White and DOE in light of cheating scandals in Atlanta and Washington, D.C. In Atlanta, former superintendent Beverly Hall and several public school staff members were recently indicted in an alleged scheme to cheat on Georgia state tests, including the erasure of students’ incorrect answers and replacing them with correct answers.

A similar scandal brought down the administration of former Washington, D.C. superintendent Michelle Rhee, once the national poster child of school reform.

With the negative publicity those two cheating scandals have received, one would think that the president of a state education board would be aware of any hint of a similar event on his watch.

Roemer was asked to look into Bassett’s allegations and to report back to the committee.

If anyone reading this cares to wager that Roemer will ever report back to the committee members, that the committee will ever follow up on Bassett’s embarrassing charges, or that White or BESE will ever take corrective measures, we know several skeptics who will cover the bet—and give you odds.

“We rely on you as legislators to serve our public interests.”

—Brad Ott, Director of Advocates for Louisiana Public Health Care, testifying before the House and Governmental Affairs Committee on Tuesday in favor of the passage of HB 19 by Rep. Jerome “Dee” Richard (I-Thibodaux) and Sen. Rick Gallot (D-Ruston) which would have removed the deliberative process exemption from the governor’s office, thus giving greater access to public records.

“Deliberative process did not exist before 2009. It has become somewhat of a virus now. We see state agencies marking emails in the subject line as confidential and exempt from public records disclosure due to deliberative process. This is a problem.”

—Robert Travis Scott, President of the Public Affairs Research Council (PAR), speaking in favor of HB 19. The committee killed the bill by a 6-3 vote, a move that will likely encourage even more deliberative process claims by other agencies, thus choking off the public’s access to public records.

“This governor, in an effort at transparency, passed the first real change (in the public records law) in 2009. The deliberative process protects communications between the governor and his staff so that there can be an unfettered, all ideas welcome process.”

—Thomas Enright, executive counsel to Gov. Bobby Jindal, doing what he is paid very well to do: defend his boss.

“The executive counsel’s explanation falls pretty much flat.”

—Sen. Rick Gallot, in response to Enright.

This is going to rankle some folks in the Legislature, but the fact is there are at least six cowards on the House and Governmental Affairs Committee.

That’s how many members of the committee voted against HB 19 by Rep. Jerome “Dee” Richard (I-Thibodaux) and Sen. Rick Gallot (D-Ruston) on Tuesday.

HB 19 would have removed the deliberative process exemptions from the governor’s office, in effect, ending abuses of the public records privilege that has been extended throughout the executive branch of government and LSU when the original law passed in 2009 specifically limited the privilege to the governor.

But six members of the committee hearing testimony that was overwhelmingly in favor of the bill, had feet of clay and did not have the backbone to stand up to a lame duck governor who long ago stopped caring about this state.

The three who voted to send the governor a message included Reps. John Berthelot (R-Gonzales), Jared Brossett (D-New Orleans) and John Schroder (R-Covington).

The six who should bear the stigma of being forced to wear the yellow letter “Y” (with apologies to Nathaniel Hawthorne) emblazoned across the front of their freshly starched shirts are:

• Committee Chair Timothy Burns (R-Mandeville);

• Vice Chair Michael Danahay (D-Sulphur);

• Taylor Barras (R-New Iberia);

• Girod Jackson, III (D-LaPlace);

• Gregory Miller (R-Norco);

• Stephen Pugh (R-Ponchatoula).

Why should we be so upset with the Sorry Six? The Gutless Gang? Because they have just made it even more difficult than ever to obtain public records from state agencies, in effect giving them carte blanche to operate in secrecy as never before. If you thought it difficult to get routine public records in the past, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

One witness testified before the committee that she could not readily obtain something as routine as a copy of state contracts without receiving notification from the Division of Administration (DOA) that a “search” was being conducted for the documents (despite the fact that she requested the contracts by contract number) and that once located they would be reviewed for “privileged and confidential information”—something that does not exist with public contracts; they’re public documents, pure and simple.

Thomas Enright, Gov. Bobby Jindal’s executive counsel, offered a lame apology for the difficult in obtaining copies of contracts. “I made a note of this,” he said. “There is no reason you should have problems getting a copy of a state contract.”

Really? Wow, what a champion of the people.

But that weak effort at atonement was easily matched by his equally disingenuous attempt at painting his boss as some great emancipator of the public’s right to know. It was easily the most pitiful performance so far this session by a spokesperson for this administration. And that includes Commissioner of Administration Kristy Nichols’ incredibly naïve utterance that the administration would not tolerate corruption as she was canceling the $184 million CNSI contract with the Department of Health and Hospitals (DHH).

As one witness after another cited the administration’s outright contempt for the public’s right—your right—to know what your government is doing with your tax dollars and how those actions might be enriching certain campaign contributors, the committee members went through the motion of pretending to listen and a few even asked perfunctory questions—probably provided them by the governor’s staff, if claims made by at least two other legislators last year are accurate.

But guess what? It didn’t matter. The fix was in from the get-go and HB 19 never had a prayer despite support from the Public Affairs Research Council (PAR), Leaders with Vision, Advocates for Public Health Care, the Baton Rouge Advocate, the Louisiana Press Association, and others.

This is the government you voted for, folks. You send them to Baton Rouge to represent your best interests and they promptly fall in line with the governor’s or some special interest’s agenda, and then legislators and lobbyists adjourn each night to Ruth’s Chris or Sullivan’s steak restaurants. And one way or another, you pick up the tab.

But don’t bother asking for public records on those sojourns. Deliberative process, don’t you know.