Shyster patrol

Shady deals and petty corruption still lurk in even the farthest reaches of the Commonwealth. The State Ethics Commission is on the case.

Cityscape by Sarah McNaught

Casper Charles Sanzone wanted his daughter to have her choice of colleges. He also wanted to make sure he didn't have to pay for it.

So it was lucky for him that his daughter attended Monument Mountain Regional High School, where he worked as a guidance counselor. Located in Great Barrington, a rural town at the southernmost point of the Berkshires, the school normally does not have its dealings closely monitored by the state.

Sanzone reportedly raised some of his daughter's grades and lowered several grades of a transfer student. As a result of this tampering, the transfer student would have ended up ranking third in the class of 1998, and Sanzone's daughter would have ranked first. As class valedictorian, she might have gained an edge in winning college scholarships.

But Sanzone got caught. Following up on a phone tip, the State Ethics Commission spent several months investigating his actions. He was charged with violating state ethics laws and fined $2000, the maximum allowed.

Sanzone, who could not be reached for comment, resigned from his position on April 3 of 1997. Two months later, on June 11, Sanzone signed a report drafted by the commission, admitting that what he did was wrong. The school readjusted the two students' grades to reflect their accurate ranking.

Whether it be nepotism (as in Sanzone's case) or unethical pursuit of financial gain, petty corruption can be found in even the most rural corners of Massachusetts. One group knows this and is working hard to fight it.

Tucked away in the back of One Ashburton Place, a 21-story building in the heart of Government Center, is the State Ethics Commission. Identifiable only by the small gray-and-white sign to the left of the door, the Ethics Commission enforces the state's conflict-of-interest laws. These laws, established in 1963, limit what public employees can do on the job, how they can make money after hours or on the side, and what positions they can hold once they leave public service. They set the standards of conduct for state, county, and municipal employees.

At a time when the morality of bigtime public officials is under a microscope, the State Ethics Committee is working to ensure that no one slips through the cracks, no matter how small the crime or how isolated the town. Each year, the commission looks into more than 700 accusations against public officials statewide. Some of these people took advantage of their public status to help their private businesses profit. Others unfairly used their positions to help family members. The State Ethics Commission's role is simple: to educate people about the law and punish those who flout it.

"The laws articulate the idea that public servants owe undivided loyalty to the government they work for and must always act in the interest of the public rather than for personal gain," explains Stephanie Lovell, the Ethics Commission's executive director.

J. Martin Auty might not have been out for personal gain when he broke the law, but he did have a relative's interests a little too close to his heart. Auty, a former police officer and selectman in the town of Mendon, apparently wanted to pass his profession on to his family: he took part in the police

review board that hired his stepdaughter, Sheri Tagliaferri, as a part-time dispatcher and officer four years ago. It is a violation of the state's conflict-of-interest laws to participate in matters, such as employment decisions, in which an immediate family member has a financial interest.

"We are not saying Mr. Auty's stepdaughter wasn't qualified," explains Carol Carson, the commission's director of public education. "The violation lies in the part he played in the interview process. That in no way discredits his stepdaughter as an able employee."

On April 3, Auty signed an Ethics Commission report acknowledging that what he did was wrong, and on April 15, the commission fined Auty $500.

According to Auty's attorney, John Kuzinevich, "There was a technical violation in that Martin did interview other candidates for the positions. However, he did not recommend his stepdaughter, and he did not vote on the finalists as a selectman."

Other officials use their positions for more direct financial benefit. Lynn health inspector John Massa, for example, worked on the side as a constable, who is hired by landlords to serve eviction papers. He was paid $6000 a year by International Realty and $3000 a year by Crowninshield Realty, two of the largest apartment management companies in Lynn. In August, the State Ethics Commission cited Massa for inspecting properties that were managed by those businesses. According to the commission, an inspector receiving private fees from a landlord could have a bias in favor of that landlord when it comes time to inspect the property. Also, Massa should have disclosed in writing his position as a constable. He did not.

Contacted by the Phoenix, Massa had nothing to say about the citation, commenting only that "the report speaks for itself."

In Dudley, a town on the Connecticut border in central Massachusetts, one couple tried to bend the rules in order to save some money. Dudley selectman Martin Nieski's wife owns Nieski Inc., a corporation that bought the liquor store Marty's last year. On April 7, 1997, Nieski appeared on behalf of his wife at a hearing before the Board of Selectmen. Nieski sought a waiver of the annual liquor license fee of $1100.

At the hearing, according to the commission, Nieski argued that the fee should be waived because it had already been paid in January 1997 by Ideal Liquors Inc. Ideal transferred its license to Nieski's wife when she bought the store in February, but the transfer did not absolve her of paying the fee.

Nieski was fined $250 and admitted that he violated the state's conflict-of-interest laws, which prohibit a municipal official from acting as an agent for anyone other than the town in relation to a situation that directly affects the town.

"I think enough has been said on this already," says Nieski, who decided in the wake of the public scrutiny that he would not run for selectman again. "No matter what I say, I'm going to get in trouble." Nieski now manages Marty's Liquors.

Allin Thompson of Harwich is another selectman who got into trouble by trying to help out a relative. Thompson signed an Ethics Commission report on June 3, admitting that he improperly represented his sister and brother-in-law in a real-estate transaction in which the town had an interest. Thompson was fined $1000.

The West Harwich property that Thompson's relatives bought had been willed to the town by a local man, Chester Ellis, who wanted the land to be used for a park after his death in September 1992. However, Ellis owned only 75 percent of the land; his cousin, who owned the other 25 percent, wanted to keep his portion. The situation was the same with an adjacent lot that Ellis had willed to various local charities. The executor of the estate chose to solve the problem by putting the land on the market and dividing the proceeds among the parties to whom Ellis had willed the properties.

When Thompson's sister decided she wanted to buy part of the land, Thompson negotiated a sale price of $162,800. Not only did he profit from the deal to the tune of $8140 in broker's fees, but he had another conflict as well: had he not tried to win the lowest possible price for his relatives, the town, which received $62,912 of the proceeds, might have realized a bigger gain.

Thompson says he meant no harm and his wrongdoing was nothing more than ignorance of the law. "It's simple to walk into a situation like this unknowingly," he says. "I've worked in public service for 30 years and I tried hard to do a good job. This was just a mistake. The laws weren't clear to me."

Thompson now sells real estate part-time and is no longer a selectman.

Situations like Thompson's, says Lovell, point to the need for statewide education on the ethics laws. "The conflict-of-interest laws will only be abided by if people have the knowledge of them they need in order to carry out their duties as municipal employees," she says. "We are not out to get people, and that's why we have several programs in place to educate everyone on what the laws entail."

The goal of the Ethics Commission, after all, is to ensure that the citizens of Massachusetts, especially those in outlying towns, are not being cheated by small-time swindlers. Just as it is their job, Lovell says, to educate public officials on the ethical boundaries of their positions. For those officials, the Ethics Commission's lesson is simple. In the words of Thomas Jefferson: "Whenever you do a thing . . . ask yourself how you would act were all the world looking at you, and act accordingly."

Sarah McNaught can be reached at smcnaught[a]phx.com.