[Sosfbay-discuss] Fwd: More about Palin

Tian Harter tnharter at aceweb.com
Sun Sep 21 13:52:06 PDT 2008


In Office, Palin Hired Friends and Hit Critics


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By JO BECKER, PETER S. GOODMAN AND MICHAEL POWELL
Published: September 13, 2008

This article is by Jo Becker, Peter S. Goodman and Michael Powell.

WASILLA, Alaska — Gov. Sarah Palin lives by the maxim that all politics 
is local, not to mention personal.

So when there was a vacancy at the top of the State Division of 
Agriculture, she appointed a high school classmate, Franci Havemeister, 
to the $95,000-a-year directorship. A former real estate agent, Ms. 
Havemeister cited her childhood love of cows as a qualification for 
running the roughly $2 million agency.

Ms. Havemeister was one of at least five schoolmates Ms. Palin hired, 
often at salaries far exceeding their private sector wages.

When Ms. Palin had to cut her first state budget, she avoided the legion 
of frustrated legislators and mayors. Instead, she huddled with her 
budget director and her husband, Todd, an oil field worker who is not a 
state employee, and vetoed millions of dollars of legislative projects.

And four months ago, a Wasilla blogger, Sherry Whitstine, who chronicles 
the governor’s career with an astringent eye, answered her phone to hear 
an assistant to the governor on the line, she said.

“You should be ashamed!” Ivy Frye, the assistant, told her. “Stop 
blogging. Stop blogging right now!”

Ms. Palin walks the national stage as a small-town foe of “good old boy” 
politics and a champion of ethics reform. The charismatic 44-year-old 
governor draws enthusiastic audiences and high approval ratings. And as 
the Republican vice-presidential nominee, she points to her management 
experience while deriding her Democratic rivals, Senators Barack Obama 
and Joseph R. Biden Jr., as speechmakers who never have run anything.

But an examination of her swift rise and record as mayor of Wasilla and 
then governor finds that her visceral style and penchant for attacking 
critics — she sometimes calls local opponents “haters” — contrasts with 
her carefully crafted public image.

Throughout her political career, she has pursued vendettas, fired 
officials who crossed her and sometimes blurred the line between 
government and personal grievance, according to a review of public 
records and interviews with 60 Republican and Democratic legislators and 
local officials.

Still, Ms. Palin has many supporters. As a two-term mayor she paved 
roads and built an ice rink, and as governor she has pushed through 
higher taxes on the oil companies that dominate one-third of the state’s 
economy. She stirs deep emotions. In Wasilla, many residents display 
unflagging affection, cheering “our Sarah” and hissing at her critics.

“She is bright and has unfailing political instincts,” said Steve 
Haycox, a history professor at the University of Alaska. “She taps very 
directly into anxieties about the economic future.”

“But,” he added, “her governing style raises a lot of hard questions.”

Ms. Palin declined to grant an interview for this article. The 
McCain-Palin campaign responded to some questions on her behalf and that 
of her husband, while referring others to the governor’s spokespeople, 
who did not respond.

Lt. Gov. Sean Parnell said Ms. Palin had conducted an accessible and 
effective administration in the public’s interest. “Everything she does 
is for the ordinary working people of Alaska,” he said.

In Wasilla, a builder said he complained to Mayor Palin when the city 
attorney put a stop-work order on his housing project. She responded, he 
said, by engineering the attorney’s firing.

Interviews show that Ms. Palin runs an administration that puts a 
premium on loyalty and secrecy. The governor and her top officials 
sometimes use personal e-mail accounts for state business; dozens of 
e-mail messages obtained by The New York Times show that her staff 
members studied whether that could allow them to circumvent subpoenas 
seeking public records.

Rick Steiner, a University of Alaska professor, sought the e-mail 
messages of state scientists who had examined the effect of global 
warming on polar bears. (Ms. Palin said the scientists had found no ill 
effects, and she has sued the federal government to block the listing of 
the bears as endangered.) An administration official told Mr. Steiner 
that his request would cost $468,784 to process.

When Mr. Steiner finally obtained the e-mail messages — through a 
federal records request — he discovered that state scientists had in 
fact agreed that the bears were in danger, records show.

“Their secrecy is off the charts,” Mr. Steiner said.

State legislators are investigating accusations that Ms. Palin and her 
husband pressured officials to fire a state trooper who had gone through 
a messy divorce with her sister, charges that she denies. But interviews 
make clear that the Palins draw few distinctions between the personal 
and the political.

Last summer State Representative John Harris, the Republican speaker of 
the House, picked up his phone and heard Mr. Palin’s voice. The 
governor’s husband sounded edgy. He said he was unhappy that Mr. Harris 
had hired John Bitney as his chief of staff, the speaker recalled. Mr. 
Bitney was a high school classmate of the Palins and had worked for Ms. 
Palin. But she fired Mr. Bitney after learning that he had fallen in 
love with another longtime friend.

“I understood from the call that Todd wasn’t happy with me hiring John 
and he’d like to see him not there,” Mr. Harris said.

“The Palin family gets upset at personal issues,” he added. “And at our 
level, they want to strike back.”

Through a campaign spokesman, Mr. Palin said he “did not recall” 
referring to Mr. Bitney in the conversation.

Hometown Mayor

Laura Chase, the campaign manager during Ms. Palin’s first run for mayor 
in 1996, recalled the night the two women chatted about her ambitions.

“I said, ‘You know, Sarah, within 10 years you could be governor,’ ” Ms. 
Chase recalled. “She replied, ‘I want to be president.’ ”

Ms. Palin grew up in Wasilla, an old fur trader’s outpost and now a 
fast-growing exurb of Anchorage. The town sits in the Matanuska-Susitna 
Valley, edged by jagged mountains and birch forests. In the 1930s, the 
Roosevelt administration took farmers from the Dust Bowl area and 
resettled them here; their Democratic allegiances defined the valley for 
half a century.

In the past three decades, socially conservative Oklahomans and Texans 
have flocked north to the oil fields of Alaska. They filled evangelical 
churches around Wasilla and revived the Republican Party. Many of these 
working-class residents formed the electoral backbone for Ms. Palin, who 
ran for mayor on a platform of gun rights, opposition to abortion and 
the ouster of the “complacent” old guard.

After winning the mayoral election in 1996, Ms. Palin presided over a 
city rapidly outgrowing itself. Septic tanks had begun to pollute lakes, 
and residential lots were carved willy-nilly out of the woods. She 
passed road and sewer bonds, cut property taxes but raised the sales tax.

And, her supporters say, she cleaned out the municipal closet, firing 
veteran officials to make way for her own team. “She had an agenda for 
change and for doing things differently,” said Judy Patrick, a City 
Council member at the time.

But careers were turned upside down. The mayor quickly fired the town’s 
museum director, John Cooper. Later, she sent an aide to the museum to 
talk to the three remaining employees. “He told us they only wanted 
two,” recalled Esther West, one of the three, “and we had to pick who 
was going to be laid off.” The three quit as one.

Ms. Palin cited budget difficulties for the museum cuts. Mr. Cooper 
thought differently, saying the museum had become a microcosm of class 
and cultural conflicts in town. “It represented that the town was 
becoming more progressive, and they didn’t want that,” he said.

Days later, Mr. Cooper recalled, a vocal conservative, Steve Stoll, 
sidled up to him. Mr. Stoll had supported Ms. Palin and had a 
long-running feud with Mr. Cooper. “He said: ‘Gotcha, Cooper,’ ” Mr. 
Cooper said.

Mr. Stoll did not recall that conversation, although he said he 
supported Ms. Palin’s campaign and was pleased when she fired Mr. Cooper.

In 1997, Ms. Palin fired the longtime city attorney, Richard Deuser, 
after he issued the stop-work order on a home being built by Don 
Showers, another of her campaign supporters.

Your attorney, Mr. Showers told Ms. Palin, is costing me lots of money.

“She told me she’d like to see him fired,” Mr. Showers recalled. “But 
she couldn’t do it herself because the City Council hires the city 
attorney.” Ms. Palin told him to write the council members to complain.

Meanwhile, Ms. Palin pushed the issue from the inside. “She started the 
ball rolling,” said Ms. Patrick, who also favored the firing. Mr. Deuser 
was soon replaced by Ken Jacobus, then the State Republican Party’s 
general counsel.

“Professionals were either forced out or fired,” Mr. Deuser said.

Ms. Palin ordered city employees not to talk to the press. And she used 
city money to buy a white Suburban for the mayor’s use — employees 
sarcastically called it the mayor-mobile.

The new mayor also tended carefully to her evangelical base. She 
appointed a pastor to the town planning board. And she began to eye the 
library. For years, social conservatives had pressed the library 
director to remove books they considered immoral.

“People would bring books back censored,” recalled former Mayor John 
Stein, Ms. Palin’s predecessor. “Pages would get marked up or torn out.”

Witnesses and contemporary news accounts say Ms. Palin asked the 
librarian about removing books from the shelves. The McCain-Palin 
presidential campaign says Ms. Palin never advocated censorship.

But in 1995, Ms. Palin, then a city councilwoman, told colleagues that 
she had noticed the book “Daddy’s Roommate” on the shelves and that it 
did not belong there, according to Ms. Chase and Mr. Stein. Ms. Chase 
read the book, which helps children understand homosexuality, and said 
it was inoffensive; she suggested that Ms. Palin read it.

“Sarah said she didn’t need to read that stuff,” Ms. Chase said. “It was 
disturbing that someone would be willing to remove a book from the 
library and she didn’t even read it.”

“I’m still proud of Sarah,” she added, “but she scares the bejeebers out 
of me.”

Reform Crucible

Restless ambition defined Ms. Palin in the early years of this decade. 
She raised money for Senator Ted Stevens, a Republican from the state; 
finished second in the 2002 Republican primary for lieutenant governor; 
and sought to fill the seat of Senator Frank H. Murkowski when he ran 
for governor.

Mr. Murkowski appointed his daughter to the seat, but as a consolation 
prize, he gave Ms. Palin the $125,000-a-year chairmanship of a state 
commission overseeing oil and gas drilling.

Ms. Palin discovered that the state Republican leader, Randy Ruedrich, a 
commission member, was conducting party business on state time and 
favoring regulated companies. When Mr. Murkowski failed to act on her 
complaints, she quit and went public.

The Republican establishment shunned her. But her break with the 
gentlemen’s club of oil producers and political power catapulted her 
into the public eye.

“She was honest and forthright,” said Jay Kerttula, a former Democratic 
state senator from Palmer.

Ms. Palin entered the 2006 primary for governor as a formidable candidate.

In the middle of the primary, a conservative columnist in the state, 
Paul Jenkins, unearthed e-mail messages showing that Ms. Palin had 
conducted campaign business from the mayor’s office. Ms. Palin handled 
the crisis with a street fighter’s guile.

“I told her it looks like she did the same thing that Randy Ruedrich 
did,” Mr. Jenkins recalled. “And she said, ‘Yeah, what I did was wrong.’ ”

Mr. Jenkins hung up and decided to forgo writing about it. His phone 
rang soon after.

Mr. Jenkins said a reporter from Fairbanks, reading from a Palin news 
release, demanded to know why he was “smearing” her. “Now I look at her 
and think: ‘Man, you’re slick,’ ” he said.

Ms. Palin won the primary, and in the general election she faced Tony 
Knowles, the former two-term Democratic governor, and Andrew Halcro, an 
independent.

Not deeply versed in policy, Ms. Palin skipped some candidate forums; at 
others, she flipped through hand-written, color-coded index cards 
strategically placed behind her nameplate.

Before one forum, Mr. Halcro said he saw aides shovel reports at Ms. 
Palin as she crammed. Her showman’s instincts rarely failed. She put the 
pile of reports on the lectern. Asked what she would do about health 
care policy, she patted the stack and said she would find an answer in 
the pile of solutions.

“She was fresh, and she was tomorrow,” said Michael Carey, a former 
editorial page editor for The Anchorage Daily News. “She just floated 
along like Mary Poppins.”

Government

Half a century after Alaska became a state, Ms. Palin was inaugurated as 
governor in Fairbanks and took up the reformer’s sword.

As she assembled her cabinet and made other state appointments, those 
with insider credentials were now on the outs. But a new pattern became 
clear. She surrounded herself with people she has known since grade 
school and members of her church.

Mr. Parnell, the lieutenant governor, praised Ms. Palin’s appointments. 
“The people she hires are competent, qualified, top-notch people,” he said.

Ms. Palin chose Talis Colberg, a borough assemblyman from the Matanuska 
valley, as her attorney general, provoking a bewildered question from 
the legal community: “Who?” Mr. Colberg, who did not return calls, moved 
from a one-room building in the valley to one of the most powerful 
offices in the state, supervising some 500 people.

“I called him and asked, ‘Do you know how to supervise people?’ ” said a 
family friend, Kathy Wells. “He said, ‘No, but I think I’ll get some 
help.’ ”

The Wasilla High School yearbook archive now doubles as a veritable 
directory of state government. Ms. Palin appointed Mr. Bitney, her 
former junior high school band-mate, as her legislative director and 
chose another classmate, Joe Austerman, to manage the economic 
development office for $82,908 a year. Mr. Austerman had established an 
Alaska franchise for Mailboxes Etc.

To her supporters — and with an 80 percent approval rating, she has 
plenty — Ms. Palin has lifted Alaska out of a mire of corruption. She 
gained the passage of a bill that tightens the rules covering lobbyists. 
And she rewrote the tax code to capture a greater share of oil and gas 
sale proceeds.

“Does anybody doubt that she’s a tough negotiator?” said State 
Representative Carl Gatto, Republican of Palmer.

Yet recent controversy has marred Ms. Palin’s reform credentials. In 
addition to the trooper investigation, lawmakers in April accused her of 
improperly culling thousands of e-mail addresses from a state database 
for a mass mailing to rally support for a policy initiative.

While Ms. Palin took office promising a more open government, her 
administration has battled to keep information secret. Her inner circle 
discussed the benefit of using private e-mail addresses. An assistant 
told her it appeared that such e-mail messages sent to a private address 
on a “personal device” like a BlackBerry “would be confidential and not 
subject to subpoena.”

Ms. Palin and aides use their private e-mail addresses for state 
business. A campaign spokesman said the governor copied e-mail messages 
to her state account “when there was significant state business.”

On Feb. 7, Frank Bailey, a high-level aide, wrote to Ms. Palin’s state 
e-mail address to discuss appointments. Another aide fired back: “Frank, 
this is not the governor’s personal account.”

Mr. Bailey responded: “Whoops~!”

Mr. Bailey, a former midlevel manager at Alaska Airlines who worked on 
Ms. Palin’s campaign, has been placed on paid leave; he has emerged as a 
central figure in the trooper investigation.

Another confidante of Ms. Palin’s is Ms. Frye, 27. She worked as a 
receptionist for State Senator Lyda Green before she joined Ms. Palin’s 
campaign for governor. Now Ms. Frye earns $68,664 as a special assistant 
to the governor. Her frequent interactions with Ms. Palin’s children 
have prompted some lawmakers to refer to her as “the babysitter,” a 
title that Ms. Frye disavows.

Like Mr. Bailey, she is an effusive cheerleader for her boss.

“YOU ARE SO AWESOME!” Ms. Frye typed in an e-mail message to Ms. Palin 
in March.

Many lawmakers contend that Ms. Palin is overly reliant on a small inner 
circle that leaves her isolated. Democrats and Republicans alike 
describe her as often missing in action. Since taking office in 2007, 
Ms. Palin has spent 312 nights at her Wasilla home, some 600 miles to 
the north of the governor’s mansion in Juneau, records show.

During the last legislative session, some lawmakers became so frustrated 
with her absences that they took to wearing “Where’s Sarah?” pins.

Many politicians say they typically learn of her initiatives — and 
vetoes — from news releases.

Mayors across the state, from the larger cities to tiny municipalities 
along the southeastern fiords, are even more frustrated. Often, their 
letters go unanswered and their pleas ignored, records and interviews show.

Last summer, Mayor Mark Begich of Anchorage, a Democrat, pressed Ms. 
Palin to meet with him because the state had failed to deliver money 
needed to operate city traffic lights. At one point, records show, state 
officials told him to just turn off a dozen of them. Ms. Palin agreed to 
meet with Mr. Begich when he threatened to go public with his anger, 
according to city officials.

At an Alaska Municipal League gathering in Juneau in January, mayors 
across the political spectrum swapped stories of the governor’s 
remoteness. How many of you, someone asked, have tried to meet with her? 
Every hand went up, recalled Mayor Fred Shields of Haines Borough. And 
how many met with her? Just a few hands rose. Ms. Palin soon walked in, 
delivered a few remarks and left for an anti-abortion rally.

The administration’s e-mail correspondence reveals a siege-like 
atmosphere. Top aides keep score, demean enemies and gloat over 
successes. Even some who helped engineer her rise have felt her wrath.

Dan Fagan, a prominent conservative radio host and longtime friend of 
Ms. Palin, urged his listeners to vote for her in 2006. But when he took 
her to task for raising taxes on oil companies, he said, he found 
himself branded a “hater.”

It is part of a pattern, Mr. Fagan said, in which Ms. Palin 
characterizes critics as “bad people who are anti-Alaska.”

As Ms. Palin’s star ascends, the McCain campaign, as often happens in 
national races, is controlling the words of those who know her well. Her 
mother-in-law, Faye Palin, has been asked not to speak to reporters, and 
aides sit in on interviews with old friends.

At a recent lunch gathering, an official with the Wasilla Chamber of 
Commerce asked its members to refer all calls from reporters to the 
governor’s office. Dianne Woodruff, a city councilwoman, shook her head.

“I was thinking, I don’t remember giving up my First Amendment rights,” 
Ms. Woodruff said. “Just because you’re not going gaga over Sarah 
doesn’t mean you can’t speak your mind.”

-- 
Tian
http://tian.greens.org
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