Greenpalm: A true-life tale of bugs and rats

September 22, 1996

You've probably heard of Howard the Duck. Now meet Howard the Rat.

That would be Howard Gary, former Miami city manager and now a star informer in the Operation Greenpalm corruption probe.

While Howard the Duck was merely a lame movie character, Howard the Rat is a true-life crook. He got caught trying to squeeze a $2 million "consultant" fee out of Unisys, a computer company seeking contracts with the city of Miami.

Unisys executives, it seems, weren't in the mood for a shakedown, so they told the feds about the outrageous money demands made by Gary and his corrupt cohort, then-Miami Finance Director Manohar Surana.

Both men were soon visited by FBI agents, who apparently explained with excruciating clarity what lay ahead. Both Gary and Surana agreed to cooperate in the hopes of avoiding prison.

Before long, the men were wearing electronic bugs and chatting up dirty deals. Implicated so far are ex-City Manager Cesar Odio, City Commissioner Miller Dawkins, County Commissioner James Burke and other players to be named later.

Odio has been charged. Burke hasn't. Both men claim they were set up, although they'll have a tough time explaining some of what they say on the secret tapes.

A brief history is helpful: After being fired as city manager in 1984, Gary opened a municipal bond firm. His old chums in Dade politics steered lots of business his way, and the firm prospered. In 1993 alone, it was involved in $2 billion worth of deals nationwide.

Bond issues are a convenient way for politicians to repay favors and reward big campaign contributors. Law firms that are appointed local bond counsels receive absurd fees for minimal work. Likewise, hometown bond companies often get a juicy cut of the sales while New York underwriters do the heavy lifting.

The best part is it's perfectly legal. Usually. The FBI and SEC have been sniffing around Dade's queerly allocated bond packages for several years.

Gary entered the business at a time when it was finally opening up to minority underwriters. "I don't think it's bad getting in because of politics," he once said. "I think it's bad if you get in the door and don't do your job."

Or, say, get busted.

Once the feds had him by the shorts, Gary offered to share some tricks of the trade, Miami-style. Wearing a wire, he approached Commissioner Burke, who chairs Metro's finance committee.

Gary offered Burke up to $100,000 if Gary's bond firm got a piece of a major deal—a $183 million refinancing of Dade's recycling plant. Sources say Burke agreed, and shortly thereafter Howard Gary and Co. was listed as a last-minute addition to the bond management roster.

Burke insists he didn't get, or ask for, any money. But he conceded: "There were some conversations which I shared with [Gary] that there was something I wanted … some things we were going to do together. They were personal."

Translation: It might sound like a bribe on tape, but it's really just two guys, talking about guy stuff.

Howard the Rat's role in the blossoming scandal is particularly odious because of the way he's traded on his firm's status as minority owned. His crookedness is a slap in the face of every honest black businessman who's tried for a public contract.

Ironically Gary probably wouldn't be in trouble if he'd been content with the fortune he's making with bonds. But no, he had to go try a $2 million rip-off of Unisys.

It's nothing but greed, which remains a serious character flaw among rats. That's how they always get caught.

Take over city; commissioners won't notice

December I, 1996

With Miami auguring toward bankruptcy, state authorities are poised to snatch control of the city's mucked-up finances.

But Gov. Lawton Chiles made a strategic mistake by announcing his intentions ahead of time. He easily could have seized Miami's reins without forewarning the city commissioners.

They'd probably never have noticed.

When it comes to taxpayer money, these characters are so dependably inattentive that they wouldn't know what questions to ask, much less of whom.

For years the cookie jar was controlled by the slippery-fingered duo of City Manager Cesar Odio and Finance Director Manohar Surana. Unfortunately, neither fellow demonstrated the fiscal expertise to manage a Crandon Park hot-dog stand, much less a $275 million budget.

They were able to hold their jobs mainly because the politicians who hired them remained, conveniently, uninterested in simple arithmetic. As long as a few bucks were left lying around for pet projects, commissioners were content to let Odio and Surana juggle the numbers.

Evidently they took advice from the distinguished accounting firm of Deloitte, Cheech and Chong.

For example, the city for years failed to collect millions of dollars in overdue lease payments. In real-estate parlance this is called "getting stiffed by your tenants," a technical concept that someday may be explained to the commission.

It took a bribery scandal and a slew of felony indictments to reveal that Miami is sinking into a $68 million sludge pit of debt. Wall Street seems ready to downgrade the city's bond rating to "J," for joke.

Bottom line: If something drastic isn't done immediately, Miami will run out of dough in March or April. That could mean no cops, no garbage pickup, no firefighters, no pay.

So the commission, faced with the gravest crisis in its history, of course has done zilch. Commissioners continue to balk at doubling garbage rates, which would gain a few months of solvency.

Under Florida law, the state can take over a city that's going down the tubes. A special oversight committee can be appointed to handle its finances in an emergency.

That's what Miami Mayor Joe Carollo wants, and no wonder. It'll get him and his pusillanimous pals off the hook. Let somebody else hike fees and take the other painful, unpopular steps necessary to save the city.

The commission's lack of spine provides more ammunition for Miamians seeking to have the municipality dissolved. While those petitions circulate, Gov. Chiles should move ahead swiftly with a state takeover of the budget.

And there's really no need to notify the commission. Nothing would have to change down at City Hall.

Commissioners can continue to hold regular meetings, just as they do now. Pass a few meaningless resolutions. Honor a few good Samaritans. Name a few streets after their campaign contributors.

Somebody can even jot down the minutes. Televise it, too, just for giggles.

Carollo can continue as make-believe mayor. Ed Marquez can be the make-believe city manager. As a lark, somebody can even serve as make-believe finance director.

And the rest of the commissioners can sit on the dais and pretend they're doing a job, pretend the city is in good hands, pretend somebody honest is handling the budget.

The same as they've been pretending all along.

Only this time they officially won't have control of the taxpayers' money.

But if nobody tells them, it'll probably take years before they figure it out.

So, ssssshhhhhhh.