FIRST THEY wired it. Then they questioned it. Upon reflection, they decided to forgo the first windfall. Finally, they surrendered half of the second windfall.
So just what, for crying out loud, is going on here. Well, it's the curious tooth-fairy tale of Gov. Parris Glendening and three of his top aides' pension pyramid, the one the governor knew nothing about, not even the names of the three pension trustees he appointed when he was Prince George's County executive.
And if there's a moral to the story it's this: Anyone who wants to get rich quick and retire young ought to go to work for Prince George's County government and get fired -- sorry, make that the politically correct "involuntarily separated."
It's like the death of 1,000 cuts, a public relations disaster for an administration that's barely a month old and is struggling for acceptance and credibility after a squeak-through victory of less than 6,000 votes.
And the pension sweetener came in the aftershock of last November's uprising against congressional perks, including the lavish pensions members bestow upon themselves that make many of them instant millionaires.
But after being trashed on talk shows and challenged in the General Assembly as well as in their home county, Mr. Glendening finally announced that he and three top aides were relinquishing their added pension benefits until they reached age 55. And, finally, the three aides said they would give up half of the money they planned to collect under a premium sick leave policy, accepting the 50-percent rate that's normally paid to retiring county employees.
Follow the money. Here's how the bunco plan works. Under a special supplemental pension plan approved by pension trustees (all Glendening appointees) in 1990, certain non-union PeeGee County employees with 15 years of service who lose their jobs are eligible to begin collecting thousands of dollars in pension money before they reach the customary retirement age of 55. The plan was set in motion in 1992.
Four days before the November general election, Mr. Glendening asked for the resignations of 30 employees, including three of his top aides -- Major F. Riddick Jr., Michele T. Rozner and Michael J. Knapp. Mr. Knapp, as Prince George's County personnel director, was one of the three pension trustees who signed off on the supplemental pension program.
The three aides were now technically "separated" because their resignations were considered involuntary. As for Mr. Glendening, he regarded his departure from county government as involuntary because the county's term-limits law prevented him from serving another term. However, Mr. Glendening says he had longed planned to run for governor and not seek re-election.
If the scheme had stuck -- or, more accurately, if the four hadn't gotten caught with their fingers in the tambourine -- they would have collected nearly $1 million in early pensions. After criticism began to mount, all four decided to forgo their pensions until they leave state service or turn 55 -- whichever comes first.
Mr. Glendening, 52, has $21,165 a year in pension benefits. His salary as governor is $120,000 a year.
Mr. Riddick, 44, has a like sum in retirement benefits. His salary as Mr. Glendening's chief of staff is $118,421.
Ms. Rozner, 36, has a $15,261 annual pension. Her salary as deputy chief of staff is $90,206.
Mr. Knapp, 41, was the big winner. He could have gotten more than $300,000 in lifetime pension benefits. As Mr. Glendening's choice for state personnel secretary, Mr. Knapp's salary will be in the $100,000 range. His appointment, however, requires Senate confirmation.
Despite giving up half their sick leave, the trio has or will receive nice sums in unused sick leave: Mr. Riddick, $60,421; Ms. Rozner, $26,530; Mr. Knapp, $28,878.
When stories about the pension windfall first appeared a couple of weekends ago, Mr. Glendening said he was unaware of the pension plan until he was preparing to leave office after three terms as county executive.
Yet his signature appears above the names of the trustees in the 1990 agreement to establish the supplemental pension plan.
So it's fair to ask if something stinks here. Was the fix in from the beginning? That's certainly the way it appears and what the chronology of events suggests.
What's at stake in all of the commotion over the pension debacle is the credibility of an entire administration for the next four, maybe eight, years and the distrust that such sleight-of-hand trickery means to friends and enemies alike.
Mr. Glendening arrived in Annapolis with a reputation for being Clintonesque, a sneering way of saying he'll tell people whatever they want to hear then do the opposite. It's a trait that his home county political rival, Senate President Thomas V. "Mike" Miller, has been underlining for years.
It's certain that the slipping and sliding on the pension matter won't help the administration's cause in the General Assembly where every action will now be suspect in an atmosphere of deceit and distrust.
Mr. Glendening, the college professor and self-proclaimed expert in government finance, should have seen the public relations disaster waiting to happen. To be sure, there's nothing illegal about what they did. It was just plain arrogant at best, and a high-handed money grab at worst. They wrote the law to line their pockets.
In politics, as in life, it's the ones who think they'll never get caught who always do.
Frank A. DeFilippo writes from Owings Mills on Maryland politics.