A Student of Back-Room Deals Hits Pay Dirt in Carson

I knew my trip to Carson wasn’t wasted as soon as I spotted Barna Szabo in the unglamorous community center meeting room.

Driving down the 405 to the Carson Community Center on Thursday, I had wondered why I was going to a meeting of a little-known governmental agency. As I walked through the no-frills community center, past a preschool and a seniors meeting, my doubts increased.

Then I spotted a roomful of suits. Szabo was sitting in a plastic chair in the first row, a friendly, well-dressed man with wavy gray hair taking notes. He is a successful lobbyist specializing in helping his clients tap the only big money left in drained government treasuries--the billions of dollars available to build highways and railroads. He wouldn’t have bothered to come unless there was something in the room for him and those he represents.

And if there was something for Szabo, there was something for me, a student of back-room deals and the men and women who put them together.

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This was a meeting of the governing board of the Alameda Corridor Transportation Authority. The authority is responsible for a huge public works project, the almost $2-billion high-speed freight route connecting the Los Angeles and Long Beach harbors with Downtown L.A. Backers say the project would create thousands of jobs, first in construction and then in industry, warehousing and transportation stimulated by growing Pacific Rim trade.

The setup is perfect for minimal scrutiny: an obscure government body meeting in an out-of-the-way spot to do an expensive and important job. I don’t mean to insult Carson, a small, middle-class residential city near the intersection of the Harbor and San Diego freeways, but if you want to hide your meeting, it’s the place.

The authority recently gave Szabo’s client, the Los Angeles architectural-engineering firm of Daniel, Mann, Johnson & Mendenhall, a $14-million contract to do the preliminary engineering for the corridor. Filling the 100-plus chairs and standing against one wall were engineers and other construction entrepreneurs hoping for the same kind of good fortune.

I’d gone to the meeting to check on the contract. Originally, the authority board, after competitive bidding, had awarded Daniel, Mann, Johnson & Mendenhall a $6-million contract to do the early design work and environmental impact studies for the project. Then, two weeks ago, the authority’s small, powerful finance committee agreed to give the firm $8 million more to do preliminary engineering for the project. This was done without competitive bidding.

The second award was a real coup for the company. More times than not on these big projects, the engineering firm that does the preliminary work ends up in charge of the entire construction job.

Szabo explained to me that because the Daniel, Mann firm was already doing the environmental studies, it would be quicker and cheaper to have them do the other work, rather than stage a second round of competitive bidding.

But it reminded me of what has happened on construction projects run by the Los Angeles County Metropolitan Transportation Authority, which is building rail commuter lines. With the MTA, the low bidder gets the job and then the payment is increased with “change orders” and other mysterious devices. These practices are why the MTA is known as the Pentagon of L.A. County.

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I learned that another time-honored political practice was beginning to find its way to the Alameda Corridor Transportation Authority--fund raising.

Someone had told me that an authority member, City Councilman Albert Robles of South Gate, had held a $1,000-a-table fund-raiser recently, celebrating his appointment to the governing board. These were six-seat tables, my source informed me, not your less expensive eight- or 10-seaters.

I could understand Robles’ eagerness to celebrate. For a council member from a small city, appointment to such a board offers the chance of a fund-raising bonanza, an opportunity to solicit funds from big-time contractors and lobbyists. It beats trying to solicit money from the local realtor or the folks who run Denny’s.

I went up to Robles after the meeting and asked him about the fund-raiser. He said the money went to his “officeholder account.” For those of you who aren’t into government jargon, an officeholder account is a perfectly legal fund maintained by elected officials to pay for any expense remotely connected with their official duties. But Robles assured me that the turnout had been disappointingly low.

Not that the big money isn’t interested. It’s just that Robles is new.