Indicted former state Sen. Thomas L. Bromwell Sr. freely boasted of wielding his political power to influence some of Maryland's most prominent institutions in order to benefit himself and his friends, according to hundreds of pages of transcribed secret recordings made public yesterday.
Bromwell, representing Baltimore County in the Senate in November 2001, spoke extensively to an undercover FBI informant posing as a Georgia financier, according to court papers filed by the U.S. attorney's office.
During a freewheeling $298.36 dinner at Ruth's Chris Steak House in downtown Baltimore where the senator and undercover agent first met in November 2001, Bromwell outlined his ties to the city's movers and shakers, including H&S; Bakery magnate and Harbor East developer John Paterakis - whom he calls "the bread man" - and Maurice Wyatt, a former appointments secretary to Gov. Marvin Mandel who was later convicted of bribery before being pardoned.
Bromwell, then chairman of the Senate Finance Committee, also crowed about his connections to Comcast, the region's leading cable provider. He said he saved the company $75 million because of his legislative efforts. Bromwell's two sons, the senator said, worked for the cable giant at the time. Comcast denied any improper conduct.
According to transcripts of the conversations, Bromwell bragged in language peppered with expletives that he could also secure an off-track betting license for his potential business partner by calling in a favor from Maryland Jockey Club Chief Executive Officer Joseph A. De Francis, according to court papers.
"Yeah, I could get it approved. ... I've got to go to [the track owner] and tell him I want the deal," Bromwell said, according to the tapes.
Bromwell said that a recent fight between the two would not scotch a future deal for the off-track betting license, according to court papers.
"The guy I just told to [expletives]. I said, look, I'm your [expletive] whore in Maryland, in the Senate side, and you turn around and you [expletive] me like this, [expletives) you. I'm going to see him tomorrow night. He's going to be licking my [expletive] boots."
Bromwell, 58, and his wife, were indicted in U.S. District Court in October 2005 on federal racketeering conspiracy charges, and jury selection was set to begin this month. On Friday, U.S. District Judge J. Frederick Motz abruptly delayed the start of the trial until fall, citing undisclosed "attorney conflict issues."
The documents released yesterday could present the most damning evidence to date against Bromwell, who is recorded talking bluntly about his wide-ranging power and offering his impressions of political and business leaders.
Motz unsealed the documents at the request of The Sun, which argued at a recent court hearing that they should be made public. Defense attorneys argued that the documents are too offensive and might prejudice a jury.
The judge kept sealed documents related to the conflict-of-interest issues that prompted the Bromwells' attorneys to leave the case last week.
A phone message left at the Bromwells' Parkville home was not returned last night. The Maryland's U.S. attorney's office said it had no comment.
Bromwell, who resigned from the Senate in May 2002 to lead the Injured Workers' Insurance Fund, described one of his jobs as a hired gun for a local technology company.
"I'm a rainmaker. You got that right. That's the deal. I, I. I make it rain for 'em," he told one associate, according to court papers.
In another part of the tape, he talked about how easily he could flex his political muscle.
"I [expletive] control the Liquor Board," Bromwell said, according to the transcript.
His sway extended to Baltimore Gas and Electric Co. and Comcast, the Johns Hopkins University and the University of Maryland, Bromwell said in court transcripts of the tapes. The former senator had shepherded a critical bill for the cable company dealing with late fees in Maryland, he said in the recordings.
In 2000, Bromwell sponsored legislation that made it legal for businesses such as Comcast to set late fees higher than the annual 6 percent rate specified in the Maryland Constitution.
"Comcast needs me big time ... to the tune of $75 million," Bromwell said at the 2001 steakhouse dinner, during which he sipped a Crown Royal on the rocks with a splash of cherry juice, according to court papers. Bromwell noted that he was the floor leader on the 2000 late fees bill.
The legislation was written to counter a lawsuit regarding late fees that Comcast lost in 1999. In that case, an appeals court judge required Comcast to repay $7.59 million to customers who had been charged late fees that exceeded the annual 6 percent from November 1992 to September 1997.
During the Ruth's Chris dinner, Bromwell discussed the ruling and said that it meant that some "lawyer could file a class action suit that could have cost Comcast probably $75 million."
Bromwell's dinner companion, an undercover FBI agent using the name Joseph Carson and wearing a wire, replied: "They ought to be jumping up and kissing your ass."
Bromwell said: "Now you get the picture, now you get the picture."
Bromwell was proud of his handiwork with the bill. "I did a good job on the bill," he said. "I reversed the court, and I made it retroactive."
The legislation was written to go into effect retroactively.
Last night, Jeff Alexander, a spokesman for Comcast, said: "Comcast conducts its business with the utmost integrity and has cooperated fully with all requests for assistance from the government. There has never been any suggestion that the company has acted in an improper manner."
Alexander would not elaborate.
In a sweeping, 80-page indictment in October 2005, federal prosecutors accused Bromwell of accepting bribes from a local construction company executive in exchange for help in securing publicly funded contracts.
His wife, Mary Patricia Bromwell, 43, is accused of accepting a salary for a no-show job at a subcontractor controlled by the same construction company, Poole and Kent, in return for her husband's influence.
The Bromwells have denied the charges. If convicted, each could be sentenced to decades in prison.
A jury must decide whether Bromwell and his wife were paid off for helping a company run by a corrupt chief executive officer who flouted a law designed to help minorities or, as defense attorneys argue, Bromwell was targeted unfairly for constituent service and deal-making on behalf of a legitimate local business.
The trial is expected to last at least two months and will showcase one of the larger public corruption investigations in recent state history.
W. David Stoffregen, the former Poole and Kent president who was indicted with the Bromwells and pleaded guilty last year, told federal investigators that he gave "cash and other benefits to other elected officials," according to court documents submitted last week by prosecutors.
The documents do not identify the politicians.
According to the indictment, Bromwell's links to one of the city's most prominent developers aided Poole and Kent on an $62 million hotel project in Harbor East in downtown Baltimore in February 1999.
The contractor on the job originally selected another company to do the mechanical work on the site with a bid $500,000 less than a competing offer made by Poole and Kent.
After a meeting with Bromwell and others, the contractor removed the original company and replaced it with Poole and Kent, according to the indictment.
The subcontract was supposed to be worth about $9.7 million and the project's developer was Paterakis, whom Bromwell, on the tapes, calls a "very dear, dear friend."
Paterakis could not be reached for comment last night, his son said.
Bromwell explained at the November 2001 Ruth's Chris dinner that he met Paterakis through Maurice Wyatt. (Bromwell told a story about how Paterakis is "one of Baltimore's famous entrepreneurs" because he started with one bakery and went on to bake about half of the rolls McDonald's uses.) Bromwell called Wyatt "Mo-Mo." He said Wyatt was worth $20 million and was "a player."
Wyatt "appointed every judge right now that is on the appellate court in Maryland," Bromwell said.
After serving under Mandel, Wyatt remained at the State House to work on the staff of Mandel's successor, Blair Lee III.
In 1980, he was convicted of bribery, along with Baltimore Judge Allen B. Spector and Donald H. Noren, a retired state health official. A judge ruled in that case that developers had paid the judge, who shared the money with Wyatt and Noren, in an effort to win exemptions from a Baltimore County sewer moratorium. Wyatt was fined and given a suspended sentence. In 1991, Gov. William Donald Schaefer pardoned him.
In the court papers released yesterday, Bromwell said Wyatt proved his loyalty because he refused to flip on Mandel, a move that Bromwell says cost him his license to practice law. (State records show the license was reinstated in 1996.)
"All these guys that went to jail, right, for eighteen months," Bromwell said in a June 14, 2001, recorded conversation. "They're all [expletive] millionaires, okay?"
Bromwell said Wyatt, who could not be reached last night, owned an equipment-leasing company. Bromwell recommended Wyatt as "a point man" if Carson proceeded with his deal to develop off-track betting in Baltimore County.
While meeting in November 2001 with an FBI agent posing as a businessman from Atlanta, Bromwell referred to his friendship with De Francis, the owner of Laurel and Pimlico racetracks.
Carson discusses using Bromwell's connection to DeFrancis to secure an off-track betting facility in Baltimore County.
Bromwell sold Carson on the financial benefits of opening such a facility. He said it would be even more lucrative if slots were approved, which he said he believed would happen in 2002.
Carson said he was interested in getting in on the betting facility. "Could you get it approved?" Carson asked. "Yeah, I could get it approved," Bromwell said. "I know the guy handing them out. I know where we - where we can go. That might be a deal."
Carson asked, "What do we need to make it happen?"
"I've got to go to Joe De Francis and tell him I want the deal," Bromwell said.
Bromwell explained that he had just had a fight with De Francis, whom he called a friend, days earlier.
He said the fight resulted when De Francis did not tell Bromwell of his own desire to put an off-track betting facility in Baltimore County.
A call to De Francis last night was not returned.
On the tapes, Bromwell comes across as a natural raconteur, filling the dinner table with stories including his humble childhood in East Baltimore, his friendship with the rich and famous, including Colts star Johnny Unitas, and escapades with Mandel.
A punch line to one everyman tale ends with: "I just made a deal for $10 million and I'm on my hands and knees laying tile."
The FBI agents who secretly recorded more than 100 conversations eventually had their secret access to Bromwell curtailed in 2002, according to court papers.
James Eick, a Bromwell friend, had been wearing a recording device for federal agents. In 2002, he was to capture any potentially incriminating conversations with Bromwell.
Instead, Assistant U.S. Attorney Michael J. Leotta wrote in court papers unsealed yesterday, Eick turned on the FBI and warned Bromwell that he was wired.
On that final tape, when FBI agents now believe Bromwell knew he was being recorded, the former senator lamented the effects of a federal investigation and a subsequent media article.
"I did 24 years of good stuff, Jim. I really did. Health care stuff and stuff like that," he said. "And one newspaper article will just make me look like a crook. Christ."
matthew.dolan@baltsun.com
Sun reporters Julie Bykowicz and Annie Linskey contributed to this article.
For previous stories on the public corruption case, go to baltimoresun.com/bromwell.
The FBI's Bromwell tapes
Excerpts from hundreds of pages of documents from secret recordings by FBI informants and undercover agents of Thomas L. Bromwell, a former state senator indicted on corruption charges. The documents were released yesterday by a federal district judge in response to a request by The Sun.
July 3, 2001, conversation between Bromwell and business associate Paul Matthews on signing deals with Comcast to wire the city for fiber-optics.
Bromwell: If worst comes to worst, I can get you ... probably get you on with Comcast working for them.
Matthews: Yea.
Bromwell: I could call my guy. I'm gonna have lunch with the president.
Matthews: Okay.
Bromwell: ... I got a commitment out of Comcast that, that NTG [Network Technology Group] is gonna get all of that [expletive] work.
Matthews: Okay.
Bromwell: Not all of it. As much as they want.
(later)
Bromwell: Well, see that's just it. They're gonna need guys in NTG to deal with Comcast. ... I make sure Comcast is happy.
From a Nov. 28, 2001, dinner conversation with Bromwell, Matthews and an undercover FBI agent pretending to be an Atlanta businessman named "Joseph Carson." At one point, they discuss getting a deal with Comcast for Bromwell's company, NTG.
Carson: Hey, hey, we're adults and we're businessmen.
Bromwell: Joe ...
Carson: You're a capitalist and I'm a capitalist.
Bromwell: NTG pays me. That's how I eat.
Carson: I understand.
Bromwell: And I'm going to be eating for the next five years very easily.
Carson: And they're not on life support. But ... but the problem ...
Bromwell: What? NTG? No.
Carson: My only concern with that ...
Bromwell: We just -- we just lost a million dollars on a deal, that this company went under.
Carson: My only concern, from what little I know about it, is that NTG doesn't have a contract with Comcast, so it's a ...
Bromwell: Nobody's got a contract with Comcast.
(Bromwell tells Carson that he got legislation passed to reverse a court ruling barring Comcast from charging $5 late fees to customers.)
Bromwell: Joe, Comcast needs me big time.
Carson: In what way?
Bromwell: To the tune of about $75 million. ...
(later)
Carson: Meaning?
Bromwell: I saved Comcast $75 million.
Carson: They ought to be jumping up and kissing your ass.
Bromwell: Joe, now you get ...
Carson: I'm serious.
Bromwell: Now you get the picture. Now you get the picture.
Carson: They're beholden.
Bromwell: Yea.
Federal prosecutors say in court papers: "Bromwell describes his association with certain individuals who feature prominently in the government's case." Prosecutors identified one of the men as John Paterakis, owner of H&S; Bakery and developer of Harbor East properties, and whom Bromwell refers to as the "Bread Man."
Carson: Paul tells me I want to get in this market.
Bromwell: I can, if you want to get into this market.
Carson: I do want to get in, if ...
Bromwell: I can get you into this market.
Carson: Then you need to give me some direction.
(later)
Bromwell: Now look, I'm not trying to impress you.
(later)
Bromwell: Peter Angelos was at my wedding. John Paterakis.
Carson: That's impressive
Bromwell: John Paterakis is my very dear, dear friend. Both of which are billionaires.(Bromwell and Carson discuss Maurice Wyatt, an appointment secretary for former Gov. Marvin Mandel. The son of a South Baltimore state senator, he was convicted in a 1980 bribery case involving a city judge and received a suspended sentence and fine.)
Bromwell: Right. Maurice is probably worth $20 million, okay?
Carson: Can he, can he make things happen?
Bromwell: Well, let me tell you something. He can make things happen that would make your ears (unintelligible).
Carson: I need somebody to do that.
Bromwell: Maurice Wyatt is a very, very close friend to this guy John Paterakis.
Carson: Okay.
Bromwell: Maurice Wyatt appointed every judge right now that is on the appellate court in Maryland. Okay?
Carson: That's strong.
Bromwell: He's a player.
Carson: I need a player and a front person, and somebody that knows their way around.
Bromwell: Now, now let me tell you ... he owns a leasing company and I got a couple of interests, I got a couple of bars that I set guys up in. Three years ago I had ... a guy who needed a quarter of a million dollars. I put it through his leasing company and he got major juice. I mean, major juice.(Bromwell is discussing his work for Network Technology Group and purported influence over other companies.)
Bromwell: They had five employees, they hired me. Last year they did $30 million. This year they're going to do better than that.
Carson: What do they do, other than work for Comcast Cable?
Bromwell: Well, they ... bury cable. They ... put in, ah, telephony, telephone. They put in multiple dwelling units. They wire buildings, and anything they tell us to do, we do it.
Carson: What do you do for them?
Bromwell: I sort of coordinate their construction services and, off the record, I'm a trouble-shooter.
Carson: Totally off the record. Everything, I hope everything we're talking about is off the record.
Bromwell: I'm a trouble-shooter. Yeah. I'm a trouble-shooter.
Carson: In what way? What do you mean, trouble-shooter?
Bromwell: Well, if BG&E; wants to hold them up for four weeks to get their [expletive] money, I call BG&E; and say, hey, fix this. They ain't waiting four weeks. They get their money tomorrow.
(Bromwell is discussing off-track betting machines in bars)
Carson: And you could get it passed?
Bromwell: Well, I mean, I wouldn't even ...
Carson: Well, I mean, I don't know ...
Bromwell: It's nothing to it.
Carson: Oh, okay. I mean, there's not an opposition?
Bromwell: Listen, first of all, it doesn't have to go through anything but the Liquor Board.
Carson: Oh, okay.
Bromwell: And I control the [expletive] Liquor Board.