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Give the folks at the Division of Administration (DOA) credit: they obviously had a mole infiltrate our operations who then successfully foiled one of our more brilliant schemes.

A second memorandum was sent out on Wednesday by the patricians of paranoia, otherwise known as those in the Division of Administration who remain convinced they are above the law and who see no need to respond to public records request by such lowly creatures as reporters.

That’s right, reporter, Michael Diresto’s volunteered opinion notwithstanding. I’m also a blogger, of course, but in addition to my blog, I cover state government for a couple dozen newspapers throughout Louisiana.

A little over a year ago I attempted to obtain a copy of Gov. Bobby Jindal’s executive budget from Diresto, Assistant Commissioner for Policy and Communications, who was handing out copies of the budget to the media. He informed me I was not getting one. He first said it was because I didn’t have an office on press row in the basement of the Capitol. When I pointed out that he had just given a copy to a reporter who did not have office space in the Capitol, he said, “You’re not getting a copy because you’re not legitimate press.”

For Mr. Diresto’s enlightenment, I hold a bachelor’s degree in journalism. I spent some 30 years as a full time reporter for newspapers in this state as a reporter and editor. My career has included reporting jobs for the Shreveport Times, the Monroe News Star and the Baton Rouge Advocate and I also served as managing editor of the Ruston Daily Leader. I even managed to pick up an occasional award for news reporting (two), feature writing (two) and investigative reporting (three) along the way. Given those facts, I would be most interested in hearing Mr. Diresto provide his definition of “legitimate.”

But back to the issue at hand.

On Wednesday, a second email went out that addressed the issue of visitors to state buildings—buildings you the taxpayer paid for and which are filled with overpaid executives who share one thing in common: an over-inflated sense of their own importance by virtue of their being appointed to jobs for which they possess few, if any qualifications. (I’m not talking about the rank and file employees who perform the grunt work that keeps the state running. They are the most unappreciated, underpaid, most dedicated people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.)

The first email, sent out on Tuesday, referenced an “incident” and directed that visitors were not to be allowed on the seventh floor of the Claiborne Building where DOA’s hallowed offices are located. The incident, of course, was the sudden, unexpected and unwelcome appearance of yours truly to request copies of public records I had first requested more than a month before. https://louisianavoice.com/2013/04/17/unexpected-visit-in-search-of-public-records-causes-panic-doa-ordered-into-virtual-louisianavoice-lockdown-mode/

The second email was sent out a day later by Ronnie Gilbert, Operations Division Manager, Office of State Buildings, and expanded the crackdown. It read thusly:

• Please inform your employees that all food deliveries for any events, meetings, conferences, etc., are to be picked up at the security desk in your facility. Upon receipt of the food the security desk will contact the agency for their representative to come and retrieve the food items from the security desk. At no time will security desk personnel allow the food vendor delivery personnel on the floors of the building.

So there you have. They’re onto us.

Our ingenious plan to wear a Domino’s Pizza shirt, slip a recorder into the pizza box and eavesdrop on top secret conversations while waiting for our tip is thwarted, nipped in the bud. Alas, what will we do now for a story?

There’s no official word, but the strong rumor is that additional emails will be forthcoming in short order that will further tighten lax security at state buildings.

For example:

• If a state employee should suffer a coronary or go into a diabetic coma on one of the upper floors, first responder personnel will be required to check in at the security desk and the guard will call the appropriate office on the phone. Someone from the victim’s office will then ride down the elevator, retrieve the defibrillator or insulin from EMS personnel and take it back upstairs. EMS personnel will be required to wait on the main floor in full sight of the security desk.

• If there is a fire on an upper floor of any state building, fire fighters will be allowed to pull a hose into the building’s foyer and then wait while the guard calls upstairs for someone to come down and get the hose. That person would then pull the hose up the stairwell to the affected floor while firefighters wait—in full view of the security desk.

• Visitors to the State Capitol will no longer be allowed to take the elevator to the observation deck some 24 floors up. The elevator, after all, necessarily goes right by the fourth floor, and that’s where Jindal is—sometimes—and where Timmy Teepell runs his Southern headquarters of OnMessage. We simply cannot have the great unwashed, the despised riffraff, common citizens, passing this close to an office of such prestige and towering intellect.

Some might call this paranoia and perhaps it is. But one can’t be too careful with crotchety old illegitimate reporters snooping about, sneaking around and writing the truth.

After all, no less an obsessive distrust authority than Nixon Secretary of State Henry Kissinger said, “Even paranoid people have real enemies.”

NOTE: The following is an account of the stonewalling and violation of state law by the State Division of Administration (DOA) experienced by LouisianaVoice publisher Tom Aswell in an effort to obtain public records from DOA:

The email from the Commissioner of Administration’s office was apparently sent to several state agencies in the Claiborne Building on Tuesday.

It’s contents were terse and to the point:

• Subject: Commissioner’s Suite

Due to a recent incident in the Commissioner’s suite, no one without proper access will be allowed into the area. If you need to see me or anyone else in legal, you must first call/e-mail to let us know you are coming over. You will not be buzzed into the area without first notifying us.

Unfortunately, this also includes student workers who come by on a regular basis to bring/and pick up documents.

Well, henceforth I guess it is okay to refer to me and LouisianaVoice as “Recent Incident” because that email from the still unknown author—I suspect it came from legal counsel David Boggs’ office—was about me.

First, some background.

I have historically encountered an almost incredible resistance on the part of this administration to release public records. If it’s not the claim of exemption under the tired blanket excuse of “deliberative process,” it’s the interminable delay due to the more recent explanation that “We are still searching for records and reviewing them for exemptions and privileges.”

Well, that handy little tactic of blowing smoke up my toga has allowed DOA to camp out on our request for weeks in open violation of the state’s public records law.

So, after submitting requests for records dating back to March 6 and March 10, I got tired of waiting and made a little trip to the Claiborne Building behind the State Capitol. That’s where DOA Commissioner of Administration Kristy Nichols parks her desk name plate—for now. She seems to move around a lot.

I walked up to the guard desk and signed in the visitors’ log book, indicating that I intended to visit DOA on the seventh floor. That’s what I wrote: Agency—DOA; Floor—7. It’s on the book, neat and proper. But then I told what could be construed as a little white lie when I informed the guard I was visiting another office first. Except it wasn’t a lie. I did drop by the other office to say hello to a couple of old friends.

Then I rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, walked to the commissioner’s office and rang the bell (the door is locked and visitors must be admitted by electronic control). The door clicked immediately and I entered and walked up to the receptionist’s desk.

“I’d like to see David Boggs, please,” I said with all of my Southern polite upbringing. (I had no quarrel with the receptionist; she’s one of the thousands of rank and file employees that Gov. Jindal holds in utter contempt so if anything, I empathize with her and others like her who most likely have not had a pay raise in something like four years now.)

After I explained that I was there to obtain public records, she picked up the phone and called someone—I assume Boggs’ office and explained that I wished to speak with him. She said a few words, listened for a few moments and then turned back to me. “How did you get here?” she asked.

A little irritated now, I said, “I walked in the front door downstairs.”

“No, how did you get up here?”

“I took the elevator.”

Somewhat exasperated at my not-so-artful dodging, she said, I mean, how did you get past the guard station? You’re not supposed to be up here.”

“Well, I signed in, told the guard I was going to another agency, which I did, and then I came up here.”

“Sir, you know that’s not the proper way to do things. You can’t just walk in here like that. You have to check in…”

“I did.”

“…Check in with the guard and call up here and we’ll send someone down to see you.”

“What? I’m already here now. Why can’t that ‘someone’ just come out and talk to me?”

“Because that’s not how we do it. Go downstairs, call up and we’ll send someone down to see you.”

Thoroughly agitated and by now having abandoned my genteel Southern upbringing, I stormed out muttering to myself about Darwin being correct after all and went back to the guard station downstairs. I dutifully placed my call and whoever answered (I don’t think it was the same person), said someone would be down to see me shortly. I told her to be sure to send someone in authority (as if that person even exists in this administration).

After about 15 minutes, a uniformed guard, a very polite and soft-spoken gentleman who had been at the guard desk the entire time, approached me to say DOA had just called him and instructed him to take my printed request and delivered it upstairs.

“No, sir,” I responded. “I want the custodian of the records who by law is required to provide me with the requested records.”

The guard smiled and said, “I’m only doing what I’m told. I work for them.”

“I understand that, but you’re not the custodian of the records,” I told him as I started dialing. As the phone rang, I further told the guard, “I want you to understand that I’m not offended in any way by you and I hope I haven’t offended you. It’s just that you are not the one with authority to release the records.”

“I understand,” he said, smiling.

I finally got yet another person (I think; I really could not distinguish the voices) and explained what I wanted. If I was angry before, the response I got sent me through the roof.

“Sir, we cannot give you the records today because we have to do stuff to them.”

“What?! I requested these records more than a month ago! What do you mean you can’t give them to me?”

“Sir, we have three days in which to give you the records…”

“No! No, you do not! The state public records law stipulates that you must allow me to examine and copy the records upon my appearance at your office. You do not have three days.” (If a record is unavailable, the custodian of the records has three days in which to respond in writing as to why the record is not available and to say when it will be available. That’s the only reference to three days in the statute.) http://www.tulane.edu/~telc/html/prr.htm

“Not only that,” I continued, “even if you did have three days, I submitted the requests on March 6 and March 10. Today’s the 16th of April. I think you’ve exceeded your mythical three-day time frame.”

“Sir, you are not allowed up here. We will get the information to you when we can.”

At that point, all I could do was go home and try to cool down. That didn’t happen. I’m still angry at a governor who could lie so convincingly about being “open and transparent” and yet allow this kind of thing to take place. And worse, I’m still angry that there are those who still believe the Jindal Lie.

And about that email: I guess it’s only appropriate that the building go into lockdown any time I cross the Amite River from Livingston Parish into Baton Rouge. At nearly 70 years of age and with a 180-pound body of sagging flesh draped across brittle bones, I guess I make a pretty imposing sight for Bobby Jindal, et al. (Of course, a Shih Tzu puppy could intimidate this governor.) Obviously I’m some kind of ogre against whom the state must be protected at all costs. A clear and present danger, as it were.

Borrowing a line from the intro of the Kingston Trio 1959 hit song, The MTA: “Citizens, hear me out. This could happen to you.”

Perhaps that is why State Rep. Jerome “Dee” Richard (I-Thibodaux) has introduced HB 19 this year in an effort to make records in the governor’s office more accessible to the public.

Richard, you may recall, is the one who sounded the alarm about the state’s failure to receive Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) approval of Jindal’s plan to privatize and close state medical facilities—a failure that Richard said could cost the state another $800 million in Medicaid funding.

HB19, co-authored by State Sen. Rick Gallot (D-Ruston), would make “all records of the governor’s office subject to public records laws”—with the usual exemptions for sensitive documents recognized for other agencies throughout local and state government, of course.

Richard is simply attempting to remove the cloak of secrecy that has existed since Jindal pushed through legislation in 2007 right after taking office that he said strengthened the state’s ethics laws but which in reality, gutted the ethics laws, diluted the Ethics Board’s authority and made records in the governor’s office off limits.

If you truly care about this state and sincerely wish to see a more responsive government in Baton Rouge, you might wish to send an email or make a telephone call to your legislators and talk up Richard’s bill.

Right now, even if it passes, it’s certain to be vetoed by Jindal. Only a groundswell of public support for the bill will convince the legislature to approve the bill and prevail upon Jindal to sign it into law.

“Our goal was to find a candidate that understands the traditions and practices of higher learning, but who also is willing to lead our great university through (anticipated) changes.”

—R. Blake Chatelain, chairman of the LSU Presidential Search Committee.

Vetting (v.): To subject to thorough examination or evaluation (The Free Online Dictionary).

Did the LSU Board of supervisors make even a token attempt at vetting the applicants for LSU President before settling on F. King Alexander, current president of the University of California Long Beach?

Vetting (v.) The process of performing a background check on someone before offering them employment (Wikipedia).

Did Long Beach State make even a cursory attempt at vetting F. King Alexander before he was chosen president of that university?

Vetting (v.): To make a careful and critical examination (Oxford Dictionary).

Okay, the last definition was in deference to the Oxford Roundtable Foundation, the organization headed by Alexander but not really affiliated with Oxford University.

The LSU Board of Supervisors meets today (Wednesday) to finalize the details of Alexander’s contract.

But back to the original question: was there even a perfunctory effort to vet the leader of Louisiana’s flagship university by the LSU Board of Supervisors?

Besides the fact that Alexander’s own curriculum vitae indicates that the highest level to which he rose as a teacher was a five-year (1997-2001) stint as an assistant professor at the University of Illinois Champaign-Urbana before making the quantum leap to the presidency of Murray State University in Murray, Kentucky, where he served for another five years (2001-2005).

Apparently, it isn’t necessary to pose the vetting question with Murray State; he simply succeeded his father, S. Kern Alexander to the presidency of the school.

Assuming that it’s the norm for an assistant professor to scale the academic ladder to president of a 10,000-student university in a single move (which, of course, it certainly is not), it’s his handling of a major grant from a prominent movie executive http://thugthebook.blogspot.com/ while at Long Beach State that we will examine here. Additional analyses of his qualifications will be provided in subsequent posts which we will offer for simultaneous release to the LSU Reveille and a couple of other choice blogs.

In May of 2007, King signed off on a three-page pledge agreement by movie producer/director Steven Spielberg’s Wunderkinder Foundation in which the foundation pledged nearly $1.4 million to support Long Beach State’s Master’s in Fine Arts in Dramatic Writing Program within the Film and Electronic Arts Department.

The money was given by Wunderkinder in three incremental payments. The first payment, $590,000 was payable upon the effective date of the pledge agreement (May 31, 2007). The second installment of $400,000 was due on the first anniversary of the effective date of the pledge agreement (May 31, 2008) and the final payment of $388,000 was scheduled for May 31, 2009, the second anniversary date of the pledge agreement.

The pledge agreement said, in part:

• The pledged funds are designated to (i) support the Master’s in Fine Arts in Dramatic Writing Program at the (university); (ii) support the conversion of space for a soundstage and editing studio in the (Department), and (iii) support equipment maintenance, replacement, and upgrades within the (Department);

• If (the university foundation) should for any reason lose its tax-exemption so that gifts to it no longer qualify as tax deductible, or if the pledged funds are used for any purpose not specifically permitted under this pledge agreement, this pledge agreement shall terminate immediately and pledgor (Wunderkinder) shall have no further obligation thereafter to pay any amounts not previously funded.

• A breach by (the university foundation) of this pledge agreement may cause irreparable injury to pledgor not readily measurable in money and for which pledgor shall be entitled to seek injunctive relief or to terminate this pledge agreement without further obligation to (the foundation), or both.

All three checks were delivered to the university’s Film and Electronic Arts Department as scheduled.

The third check of $388,000 was issued through Comerica Bank-California on May 18, 2009. But six weeks earlier, on April 6, Alexander had issued a directive suspending future admissions for the program, effectively killing it—even as Spielberg was said to have been preparing to renew the grant for another three years.

The check was not only negotiated in the full knowledge that it would not go for its intended purpose, but some of the money was then moved from the donor foundation account into the Film and Electronic Arts general account to be mingled with state funds and used for salaries.

Because there were still five students finishing the program, each received $10,000 under the grant, leaving $338,000 that went for other purposes—an apparent violation of the terms of the pledge agreement.

When the financial crunch hit colleges and universities across the country, Long Beach State was not spared and university faculty took a 10 percent “furlough” pay cut for the 2009-2010 academic year–ostensibly because of funding cuts. Later that year, however, Alexander announced that additional money had been “found.”

The terms of the furlough that came into existence in the fall of 2009 specifically said, “Faculty Unit employees whose salary is 100 percent funded from grants and contracts not funded from the state general fund shall not be subject to this furlough agreement.”

Yet a faculty member whose salary was to have been funded 100 percent by the Spielberg/Wunderkinder grant saw a 10 percent reduction in his salary. That 10 percent was apparently re-allocated for general expenses rather than for the purposes specified in the pledge agreement which could be interpreted as a breach of the pledge contract.

To make matters worse, Spielberg was never informed of the termination of the Master’s in Fine Arts in Dramatic Writing Program.

Spielberg, meanwhile, was experiencing problems of his own and for whatever reasons, did not pursue the matter. Wunderkinder in 2008 had become a victim of the giant Ponzi scheme perpetrated by Bernard Madoff. With assets of $12.6 million as of November of 2006, Wunderkinder’s financial fortunes had suffered right along with other investors in Madoff’s scheme.

By late 2009, even though Wunderkinder was financially crippled by Madoff, Spielberg continued his personal philanthropic activities on behalf of the University of Southern California, among others .

Vetting.

Call it revenge of the principals, insubordination or just down home independence or stubbornness.

The Louisiana Association of Principals has delivered a metaphoric “in your face” message for the Louisiana Department of Education and its Principal of the Year competition.

In a letter to Michael Faulk, superintendent of the Central Community School System in Central, Louisiana, Louisiana Association of Principals Executive Director Andrea Martin opted out of this year’s DOE competition because the DOE guidelines do not comply with guidelines of the National Association of Secondary School Principals or the National Association of Elementary Principals.

The DOE webpage indicated that the selection criteria for the award “are aligned with our state’s priorities of Compass and the Common Core State Standards.”

Compass, the DOE equivalent of the value added teacher assessment program and the Common Core State Standards are a bone of contention between the department and public school teachers, a factor that may have played a large part in the association’s decision.

Following is Martin’s email to Faulk:

The Louisiana Association of Principals regrets that it will not be able to coordinate with the LA Department of Education in their selection of the Principal of the Year because the guidelines and selection process from the DOE does not adhere to the guidelines outlined by the National Association of Secondary School Principals and the National Association of Elementary Principals.

As the Louisiana Association of Principals is an affiliate of these two national organizations, we are obligated to adhere to their guidelines. On a positive note, this will result in the principals selected by LAP being able to participate in the National Recognition Program sponsored by NAESP and the NASSP.

The applications are posted on the LAP website http://www.laprincipals.org and are available at this time. I apologize for the short turnaround time, but after contacting the DOE more than once, and participating in a conference call, we understood the DOE would provide LAP with a draft to ensure that all guidelines were followed before disseminating.

If you or other superintendents have any questions or concerns, please contact our office.