Housing Commissioner Daniel P. Henson III is a can-do, combative administrator who is not loath to challenge the federal officials who are his chief source of funding. Mr. Henson's style marks a sharp contrast with his predecessor, Robert Hearn, under whom the federally financed public housing agency had deteriorated into a disaster during the first six years of the Schmoke administration. But Mr. Henson's aggressive style brings another set of problems.
Evidence of trouble in the housing agency under Mr. Hearn's leadership prompted Mayor Kurt L. Schmoke to spend $50,000 in January 1993 to hire Claude Edward Hitchcock, a private attorney, to review the city Housing Authority. Assisted by Mr. Henson, then a developer, and property manager Connie Caplan, Mr. Hitchcock quickly realized that the problems were serious indeed. The situation was so sensitive politically that Mr. Hitchcock never submitted a written report, but the conclusions were self-evident. The mayor soon removed Mr. Hearn and replaced him with Mr. Henson, whose mission was to engineer a turn-around.
Mr. Henson undertook the task with gusto. Although obtaining bids for projects is integral to controlling costs and maintaining the integrity of government contract work, Mr. Henson considered the process too time-consuming and opted for non-bid work. After federal auditors began focusing on those contracts, he and several other Housing Authority officials resorted to stonewalling. The result, as The Evening Sun's housing series this week detailed, is a mess of poorly executed work and overbilling by contractors, some of whom were cronies of Mayor Schmoke and Mr. Henson and many of whom had questionable experience.
A federal grand jury is probing the rehab program. So far, the investigation has resulted in nine convictions of Housing Authority staff and dishonest contractors. More indictments may be in store.
And where is Mr. Hitchcock now? He recently gave up a partnership at Tydings & Rosenberg for a $120,000-a-year job as the executive director of Baltimore's federally financed $100 million empowerment zone effort. As his first official act, Mr. Hitchcock tried to decree that empowerment board meetings would be held in secret.
Baltimoreans cannot tolerate a public-be-damned attitude from their elected and appointed officials. Secrecy may serve the short-term self-interest of some politicians, but it seldom advances the public good. Non-bid contracts provide an alarming example. Without adequate controls, they turn into a can of worms. Taxpayers, whose money gets squandered, are the ultimate losers.
Let the public housing agency mistakes of the past be a lesson for the critical $100 million empowerment zone effort. It must be conducted in the fullest glare of public scrutiny, lest the sordid tale of the non-bid irregularities be retold again.