The Rowland Tragedy
04/08/2005

The Rowland Tragedy

Observations, A Column By John Murray

Many Connecticut residents are angry and disillusioned at what they perceive to be a "light" prison term for John Rowland. Others believe the former governor's tragic fall from grace was punishment enough for accepting $107,000 in illegal gifts from state employees, and contractors who sought multi-million dollar contracts from state government.

While some may blanche at associating the word tragic to the Rowland corruption scandal, the definition of tragedy from the American Heritage dictionary is ... a dramatic or literary work that depicts the leader, or central figure, in a morally significant struggle ending in ruin or profound disappointment. In classic verse the protagonist is brought to ruin essentially as a consequence of an extreme quality that is both his greatness and downfall.

Comedian George Carlin wrote in his book "Brain Droppings" that the media grossly overuses the word tragedy. "A family of nine being wiped out when a train hits their camper is not a tragedy," he wrote. "It's a traffic accident."

Likewise, the tsunami that devastated Indonesia in December is not a tragedy, it was a horrific natural disaster.

John Rowland's demise, however, was all his own. While some people cite arrogance and greed as Rowland's tragic flaw, others cite poor managerial skills, financial strain and a loss of ethics.

It may be a mix of all of the above, and more.

Having observed John Rowland for the past 15 years I would say the driving force in his life is fun, he always seemed to be having more fun than anyone else I encountered. After following him around for several days in 1998, we described him by saying "He plunges into the role of Governor like a cannonball at a pool party. The man makes a splash."

Rowland is charming. Hilarious. We wrote in 1998 that "humor is his calling card. He teases and jabs at anyone entering his space. Quick doesn't come close to describing his wit and penchant for spewing out brilliant one liners."

John Rowland is one of the most naturally comfortable men I have ever met. He possesses an amazing gift to connect with people; seamlessly moving from gasoline attendant, to a CEO of a multimillion dollar company.

There are paradoxes in his life, however. Outwardly he was fun-loving, intensely social, always the life of the party. But John Rowland could be edgy and vengeful, if you crossed him, he would hold a grudge.

Rowland had a verbal confrontation in 1993 with Jay Lestorti, of LesCare Kitchens. When Lestorti later applied for state assistance under the Rowland Administration, he was strung along for months, only to have the money pulled back at the last second. A member of Rowland's inner circle told the Observer it was a frequent game to torment and frustrate Lestorti. It was good for some yuks behind closed doors, he said.

If John Rowland liked you, he would do anything to help you out, if he didn't like you, he could be cold as steel. You don't compile the most amazing political resume in state history without stomping a few people on the way up the food chain.

Saving The Cities
Rowland was often caught in an ideological cross fire between liberals and conservatives. Although he began his career as a conservative Republican, the irony is that he was not a strict idealogue. As the years rolled past, Rowland moved to the center.

Maybe he was never clear in his own mind why he entered politics. Maybe it was the opportunity to help, and be around people. Maybe it was the excitement and trappings of political power. Whatever lured him into the fray, he seemed to find his cause the last six years in office when he hurled his considerable might behind the reconstruction of Connecticut's crumbling cities. Imagine a Republican governor fighting for the cities?

Photo: In happier times, John and Patty Rowland march past the State Capitol in Hartford during the 1998 Inaugural Parade.

A driving force in that mission was Waterbury, the city he was born and raised in. John Rowland clearly made colossal mistakes in accepting illegal gifts in office, but his stature in Waterbury remains strong.

People often judge the effectiveness of a politician by how much pork he delivers back to his district. Using that litmus test, there would be a statue of John Rowland on the Waterbury Green.

During his nine years in office Rowland steered hundreds of millions of state dollars into Waterbury's inner core. There is the new courthouse on the corner of Meadow and Grand, the Rowland office building nestled on the south side of the Green, the renovated YMCA, the new UConn campus on East Main Street, a renovated parking garage on Grand Street, a magnet arts school in downtown, and the stunning $30 million restoration of the Palace Theater.

Every where you look in Waterbury you will find John Rowland's unmistakable fingerprints.

When Waterbury was collapsing beneath decades of fiscal mismanagement, heading towards bankruptcy, Rowland was instrumental in creating the state Oversight Board that helped turn the city around.

Photo: Rowland endorsing Dole for President in 1996. 

Rowland crossed political lines in 2001 to encourage a reluctant Mike Jarjura into the Waterbury mayoral race. Rowland believed that Jarjura, the five term state representative from the East End, was the best choice to lead Waterbury after Phil Giordano's nightmarish reign.

A majority of positive achievements in Waterbury in the past decade were a direct result of John Rowland's actions. Was that driven by greed? No. John Rowland loves Waterbury. He believed in Waterbury when we didn't believe in ourselves. While many city residents were reluctant to admit they were from Waterbury, John Rowland toured the state proclaiming Waterbury to be "The Center of the Universe."

For nine years John Rowland tried to lift the city's sagging spirits with positive messages and hundreds of millions of dollars in state aid.

Waterbury hasn't forgotten.

Five months after he resigned from office, John Rowland received a two minute standing ovation from 2700 people attending opening night at the Palace Theater. It was a way for Waterbury to say, "Thank you for all you did for us."

Rowland still counts some of the most influential and powerful people in Waterbury as his friends. The overriding feeling in Waterbury about John Rowland's collapse isn't anger, it's sadness.


Brass City Tastes
Being from Waterbury, John Rowland is a regular guy. He loves cold beer and hot pizza, and was a regular at Frankie's and Blackies hot dog stands. He could inhale a hotdog in the blink of an eye. He was never into champagne and brie. Domars was one of his favorite hangouts and he used to take Patty there often on their Wednesday evening "date nights".

Once I watched him abstain from shrimp wrapped in bacon at a tony event in Fairfield County so he could scarf a double cheeseburger at McDonalds on the ride home. During an interview I once asked him what was his favorite food on the planet. "That's easy," he said, "a cheeseburger."

Photo: Rowland in August 1994 before he was elected. Rowland is standing in front of Kingsbury School, his alma mata.

Despite his simple culinary tastes, he could hang with the big boys - counting President George W. Bush as a personal friend. Even so, Rowland often described Washington D.C. as "Mickey Mouse Land". After losing the 1990 gubernatorial election to Lowell Weicker, Rowland, a pragmatist, became a lobbyist and made $400,000 in 1993, mostly by working the scene in Mickey Mouse Land.

In 2000, Rowland turned down overtures from George W. Bush to join his cabinet because he and Patty had five teenage children. He said Washington D.C. was no place to raise a kid. Many people speculate that in the next decade Rowland could have been vice-president, or president, but that never seemed to be either his, or Patty's, goal.

Rowland answered questions about life after the Governor's mansion by saying he wanted to be a third grade teacher. He thought that would be a hoot. His idea of an exotic trip was to head to Block Island for a week, or to kick back at the cottage on Bantam Lake.

For years Patty wanted out of the harsh glare of public life. She wasn't big on the hoopla surrounding the governor. She wanted privacy and peace. At one point John promised Patty that he wouldn't run for a third term in office, a promise they both wish he kept.


Family Legacy
The Rowland Family has a deep and proud history of public service in Waterbury. John's father, Sherwood Rowland, was comptroller in Waterbury in the 1960s, and John's grandfather, also named Sherwood, was the comptroller in 1938 who helped expose a massive corruption scheme by Mayor T. Frank Hayes.

Photo: Rowland announcing his 1994 campaign for Governor.

A book, "Fat Man In A Phone Booth", written by Niver Beaman, in 1947, recounts the Hayes corruption scandal. Beaman had been the city editor at The Waterbury American newspaper during the scandal. Hayes was both Waterbury mayor and Connecticut's Lt. Governor at the time. He was running a racketeering business out of City Hall, but with the Democrats controlling every elected position, it was nearly impossible to break up the scheme.

In the 1937 municipal election, backed by two city newspapers owned by the Pape Family, republican Sherwood Rowland was elected City Comptroller by 33 votes. Beaman wrote "The newspapers had placed their Daniel in the lion's den.

"Rowland, a tall, broad-shouldered, iron-gray-haired man who was a veteran of WWI and a constant fighter for civic virtue, did not have to go into City Hall alone," Beaman wrote. "He had the right to hire his own accountants and the newspapers saw he obtained the best."

After taking office Rowland discovered hundreds of thousands of government papers missing. It was later established that the documents were burned in the furnace of City Hall between the time Rowland was elected, and the time he took office. Remarkably, a long-time city employee, James Purcell, who had been the comptrollers's senior accountant, kept his documents at home, and away from the destructive purge.

Rowland had the information he needed to break open the scheme, and in 1939 The Waterbury American and The Waterbury Republican won the Pulitzer Prize for helping to topple T. Frank Hayes and 30 conspirators.

Ironically, Sherwood Rowland didn't live long enough to see Hayes go to prison. Beaman wrote "The pressure under which he found himself after taking office was so great upon Rowland, the honest comptroller who exposed the conspirators, that he died before the looters of the city treasury were sent to prison."

At the top of West Main Street a city park was subsequently named Rowland Park, in tribute to Sherwood Rowland's courageous effort to stop political corruption in Waterbury.

John Rowland learned about his grandfather's heroic stand while attending 6th grade at Kingsbury School. He came home hungering for more information, and his father told him the story. The fact that John Rowland is now serving a year in federal prison for corruption is an ironic twist, knowledge that must torment the former governor.


The Future
John Rowland hates roller coasters. There was a photograph in the Governor's office of him barreling down a roller coaster on the opening day of Lake Compounce Amusement Park. In the photograph Rowland has his head between his knees, terrified.

He proudly hung the photograph in his office and shared it with school groups touring the capital. "Even Governors get afraid," he'd tell them.

And during these past two years John Rowland had to experience fear as the weight of the United States Government came after him. But in the end, Rowland chose to get off the roller coaster and plead guilty. Rowland had other options. Bridgeport Mayor Joe Ganim dragged his case out for two years and trudged through a full blown trial that cost his family $2 million. It was a high stakes gamble, and Ganim lost. Sources have told the Observer that Ganim was offered a two and a half year sentence to resign his office and plead guilty. He refused. Ganim rolled the dice, was convicted, and ended up with a nine year sentence.

Rowland clearly did not want to go down that path.

Unlike Ganim and former Waterbury mayors Joe Santopietro and Phil Giordano, John Rowland accepted responsibility for his actions and plead guilty. He began serving his prison sentence April 1, and is expected to be released into home confinement in early February, 2006, where he'll serve the remaining four months of his punishment. Judge Peter Dorsey closed out Rowland's sentencing by looking directly at the former governor and telling him he had a lot of life yet to live, and wished him good luck. Rowland will be 48 years old when he finishes his prison term.

What then?

For starters he has love from a strong and supportive family. Patty will be waiting for him, and his three children from his first marriage all adore him. That's a pretty good jump start right there. In addition he has the solid love and support from mom, his three brothers and his sister, and half of Waterbury still thinks he's the cat's meow.

He could tap into the network of powerful friendships he has forged during his remarkable 25 year run in politics, or he can deepen his spiritual quest and transform himself from political king, to a public servant trying to help those struggling in the shadows. He has mentioned a continued desire to serve, to continue working to fix Connecticut's cities.

John Rowland is on a journey right now. He's in federal prison, yes, but those walls won't confine his thoughts of the future, or his visits to the past.

He'll think of his father, and grandfather, more than he'll think about $100,000 in illegal gifts. John Rowland has publicly admitted he lost his way in politics, lost his values and direction. He appears to be working hard in resetting his compass.

And no matter what John Rowland does in the future, he still possesses the remarkable ability to connect with people. He will walk the streets of Waterbury in the summer of 2006 and visit with old friends. He's always seemed to know everyone in Waterbury by their first name, and when he comes home, don't expect a shrinking violet. He'll be laughing, telling stupid jokes about prison food and the characters he met.

John Rowland will be having fun.

And then he's going to get to work. His minister, Will Marotti, has predicted that the good deeds John Rowland will accomplish after leaving office will eventually outweigh his achievements in office.

That's raising the bar on the second half of John Rowland's life, but looking back on the remarkable accomplishments he achieved in the first half, and the reassessment he is going through now, don't count him out. As Judge Dorsey noted, John Rowland still has a lot of living to do.

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