Bully's club fortified Fumo charm
HARRISBURG -- Whether he wins or loses his federal corruption trial, former state Sen. Vincent Fumo will be remembered here as a sharp strategist, a charmer and a bully, and a champion for his hometown of Philadelphia and himself.
"I always thought Fumo was the kind of guy who would step on his own mother to get ahead," said William G. Williams of Camp Hill, a former aide to the late Republican House Speaker Matthew Ryan. "I never trusted the guy."
Fumo, a former banker and lawyer who boasted about his membership in a high-IQ organization, leaves a legacy after 30 years in the Senate of secret budget deals, huge sums of money for Philadelphia, the legalization of casino gambling, and passage of Act 44, the multibillion-dollar transportation funding law, say former legislative staffers, lawmakers and political analysts.
A federal jury Tuesday is expected to begin deliberations in Philadelphia in the 139-count indictment against Fumo, which alleges widespread abuse of power. Four months of testimony about Fumo's personal and political world only underscored the veteran Democrat's legacy.
It was a testament to the power Fumo amassed that he wielded enormous influence over the budget while serving in the minority party most of his career. Fumo was the ranking Democrat on the Senate Appropriations Committee, which must approve all spending in the state's $29 billion budget.
"I think he'll be known as Philadelphia's most effective advocate," said Larry Ceisler, a political analyst and public relations consultant in that city.
Fumo's clout was such that GOP lawmakers from other parts of Pennsylvania often sought to link Democratic opponents to Fumo and Philadelphia, Ceisler said.
WEARING A CROWN
Fumo, 65, the son of a banker, is twice-divorced, liberal, Roman Catholic. He earned degrees from Villanova, Temple and The Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania, and twice beat federal corruption charges early in his political career. The acquittals only contributed to his reputation as a power broker.
"To many, Vince Fumo was the poster child for everything wrong with Philadelphia," Ceisler said.
Yet, Fumo's political skills and personal charm brought lawmakers and governors of both parties together during state budget debates, said James Lee, president of Susquehanna Polling and Research in Harrisburg.
Fumo "could be a charmer or a bully," Lee said.
"He was a player and an operator," said Vincent Carocci, former press secretary to the late Democratic Gov. Robert Casey. Lawmakers often were wary of Fumo, he said.
"A lot of it was always about his motives, and that is coming home to roost in his trial," said Carocci, author of a book on state government.
The government contends Fumo defrauded $3.5 million from taxpayers, a seaport museum and a nonprofit agency he helped create. The trial detailed accusations that Fumo used state employees to oversee his mansion renovations, track income from his rental properties and drive a state vehicle to Martha's Vineyard to meet Fumo's borrowed yacht.
Prosecutors allege Fumo directed state workers in his Philadelphia office to send overnight deliveries of his favorite hairspray to his Florida mansion, and hired a private detective at state expense to spy on ex-girlfriends and investigate Gov. Ed Rendell in 2002 when he ran for governor against Fumo-backed candidate Bob Casey, now one of the state's U.S. senators.
Prosecutors say Fumo had a "royalty complex" and used tax dollars and the nonprofit's money to support his lifestyle. A multimillionaire, Fumo insisted on using what he called "OPM" -- other people's money, the indictment claims.
Fumo says he never broke the law and his loyal staffers worked long hours doing personal chores that enabled him to be a better senator.
Prosecutors say he built loyalty among staffers by overpaying them by a total of $1 million and putting them in inflated job categories.
On the witness stand, Fumo said the federal government came after him for political reasons because he was "the most prominent Democrat in Pennsylvania."
Fumo "played all the angles and really was a master at identifying areas of vulnerability and strength," Ceisler said.
Governors of both political parties learned to go through him to accomplish things in the Legislature.
Fumo amassed power by placing people in jobs in a multitude of state agencies, from the Turnpike Commission to the Pennsylvania Higher Education Assistance Agency. When he needed something, he needed only to pick up the phone.
"He was able to exert influence and he had tentacles in agencies all over the commonwealth," Ceisler said.
He had 90 people on his own staff, according to trial testimony.
SLOTS LEGACY
Two major laws in recent years can be attributed largely to Fumo and his staff.
Legislation allowing 14 casinos in Pennsylvania -- seven are operating -- was crafted in Fumo's office in 2004. A former lawyer on Fumo's staff wrote the bill. Many offered input but Fumo took control.
It took about 18 months for support on the slots bill to jell. The Senate Republican Caucus, which runs the chamber, was largely opposed to slots. A Republican senator who favored slots, Tommy Tomlinson of Bucks County, insisted to GOP leaders he had to have a vote on it because it was crucial to Philadelphia Park, a horse-racing track in his district.
Former Senate Majority Leader David "Chip" Brightbill of Lebanon, a Republican who personally opposed slots, allowed Tomlinson to have a Senate vote. A few Republican senators from the Southeast backed the bill, but it was clear Democrats would have to carry the weight for passage.
That put Fumo in the driver's seat. Repeated closed-door sessions in Fumo's office produced a bill. Because the Senate was supposedly the tough sell on slots, the House had little choice but accept Fumo's version.
The authorization of up to 61,000 eventual slot machines -- a total second only to Nevada's -- occurred in the early morning hours of July 4, 2004. Fumo at the time compared the action to the early 1970s, when Pennsylvania instituted a state lottery to provide help for senior citizens, and first levied a personal income tax to pay for other state programs.
"In the past 30 years, I don't believe we have done anything that will change Pennsylvania economically and culturally as much as the process we have set in motion here," Fumo said after passage of the slots bill.
The law created the Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board, which has been beset with problems. It has the worst image of any agency in state government, Republican Sen. John Rafferty of Chester County said last week at an appropriations hearing.
Supporters, including Rendell, note that casino revenue to date has provided $900 million that enabled lower property taxes.
In July 2007, another complex proposal began in Fumo's Senate office: a long-term plan to fund transportation and transit needs, through borrowing, higher turnpike tolls and levying tolls on Interstate 80. The federal government rejected I-80 tolling.
The law, Act 44, has provided almost $1 billion so far for Pennsylvania roads and bridges and helped stabilize mass transit with more than $600 million, according to figures from the House Appropriations Committee and testimony before that panel.
"Fumo was able to turn two seemingly innocuous proposals -- money for property tax relief and funding for roads and bridges -- into two of the most corrupt, special-interest driven pieces of legislation," said Matthew Brouillette, president of the Commonwealth Foundation, a Harrisburg-based policy group.
"And both pieces of legislation were largely crafted behind closed doors, with little discussion and without public input or knowledge," he said.
Through the years, however, Fumo's mission appeared to be "to make sure Philadelphia got its share, if not more, of the pie," said Carocci.
As he prepared for trial and considered his legacy last September, Fumo asked his staff to tally the financial aid he provided the City of Brotherly Love. They listed a staggering $8 billion for Philadelphia that Fumo claimed credit for securing, beyond regular state appropriations for the city. It was money for human services such as welfare, infrastructure and education.
And he was a master at using so-called WAMs -- discretionary "walking around money" legislators can disburse in districts. For example, Fumo secured $2.2 million for Citizens Alliance for Better Neighborhoods, the nonprofit he is accused of defrauding.
"You couldn't ask for a more effective ally," Carocci said. "If you were his enemy, you knew it was hand-to-hand combat."
