Sunday, April 23, 2000

By Joe Hallett
Dispatch Politics Editor

Cleveland's longtime Republican boss, the late Bob Hughes, delighted in needling Ohio GOP Chairman Robert T. Bennett by calling him Farouk.

Like the high-rolling 20th-century king of Egypt, Bennett lives large. A grateful Republican establishment has accommodated his expensive tastes, providing Bennett with a luxury car replete with the license tag GOP, a living expense in the $2,000-a-month range, regular dinners at Lindy's and a salary of $115,000.

The guy is worth it.

Bennett is the most successful state GOP chairman since the legendary Ray C. Bliss took the job in 1949 and spent the next 16 years making donkeys of Democrats. When Bennett became chairman in 1988, Republicans were eating scraps from the Democrats' table. Within 10 years, Bennett ran the table: Republicans owned both houses of the General Assembly, all the nonjudicial statewide offices and both U.S. Senate seats.

Bennett did that by re-energizing the GOP faithful in the counties, cajoling candidates to put party above ego and run for offices they would rather bypass and raising gobs of money. His biggest test came in 1993, when he beat back an attempted takeover of the party by Gov. George V. Voinovich, who wanted to install Summit County GOP Chairman Alex Arshinkoff as party boss.

After that, Ohio's "King Farouk'' was assured a place in Republican lore.

But like many kings, Bennett got reckless with his power, causing considerable embarrassment for Gov. Bob Taft. In the incessant quest for political cash, the state GOP asked Taft in September to sign a letter inviting Republicans to join Team Ohio, an exclusive club requiring a $25,000 annual commitment to the state party. For $50,000 a year, donors would be enrolled in the Team Ohio Advisory Council.

Taft, the loyal Republican, obliged. What the governor now says he didn't know was that the party mailed his letter with an attachment that widely has been interpreted as a quid pro quo. Membership in Team Ohio came with privileges: for $25,000, a reception with the governor and first lady at the Bexley Governor's Residence; for $50,000, a seat in the governor's box at Ohio Stadium for the Oct. 9 Ohio State-Purdue football game.

Government watchdog groups compared the fund-raising plan with President Clinton's Lincoln Bedroom scandal, calling it a crass selling of special access to Taft. To his credit and unlike Clinton, Taft accepted full responsibility for the letter and promised it would never happen again. Still, it gave Democrats an opportunity to cast doubt on Taft's oft-demonstrated personal commitment to high ethical standards.

Bennett decried comparing Team Ohio with the Lincoln Bedroom scandal, saying that is like "comparing apples with watermelons.'' In truth, it's a difference only in locale. What, after all, could be more coveted in Columbus by GOP donors than an invitation to the governor's mansion or a seat in the governor's box at a Buckeye's game?

And in one respect, the Team Ohio controversy is worse than the Lincoln Bedroom scandal. At least the Democrats released the names of party donors who paid $100,000 or more to sleep in Abe's bed. Bennett refuses to name Team Ohio members.

He is not legally obligated to do so, because most of the Team Ohio contributions went into the party's operating fund, from whence Bennett is paid. It's an account that can accept unlimited contributions that do not have to be reported to the public.

But Bennett's refusal to name Team Ohio members and voluntarily disclose the operating fund renders hollow his frequent exhortations that full disclosure of all political contributions is the most important hedge against pay-to-play politics.

"We, as a party, report everything,'' Bennett told a U.S. Senate committee on April 5.

When I asked, then, why he wouldn't report contributions from Team Ohio members, Bennett said, "Every time we report them, somebody writes a story about them.''

Duh. That's what full disclosure is all about.

There is far more reason to scrutinize a $50,000 contribution to a party's operating fund than a $100 contribution to a campaign fund that legally must be reported to the public. People who make huge political contributions sometimes want more than good government in return. Ohio Democrats proved that in the 1980s, hence the party's minority status today.

"If I'm crazy enough to take a million- dollar contribution from someone, then it should be immediately disclosed and reported in the next day's newspaper, and I should be held accountable for it,'' said state Treasurer Joseph T. Deters.

Bennett wants to protect Team Ohio members who donated under a legal assurance that they would remain anonymous. Some of them are said to be Democrats. What philosophical reason would a Democrat have to contribute $25,000 to the Republican Party? Would that Democrat make such a contribution if the Republican Party didn't control state government? Why shouldn't we be allowed to know that?

These are questions that would not have arisen if the Bennett-led GOP had not hatched a plan to trade taxpayers' property for big political contributions. The resulting furor should be humbling, even for someone of King Farouk's stature.

Joe Hallett is Dispatch politics editor.