Category: Newspapering

Government Misadventures

When I reported for The News & Observer I wrote  hundreds of stories about North Carolina state government shenanigans.  Here’s how government works sometimes.

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Road graders manufactured by Huber Corp. met specifications and they were the low bid, but the  N.C. Advisory Budget Commission voted 3-2 not to buy them.

Why?

You want the Commission’s reason or the real reason? How about both reasons.

Galion road grader
Galion road grader

The N.C. Department of Transportation already owned 800 road graders made by Galion Iron Works and Manufacturing Co. It didn’t want the Huber machines.  The Galion was a good machine, and those highway boys wanted  more of them.

The Highway Commission proposed splitting the award, half to General Machinery Co., representing Huber, and half to N.C. Equipment  Co., representing Galion, but there were doubts about the legality of splitting the bid — Huber had won fair and square.

So how did the state get out of buying the Hubers when they met specs — Galion didn’t, by the way, not entirely — and Huber’s bid was the lowest?

Easy.

Wasn’t it true that the Galions bought by the state in prior years had not been delivered on time?

Yes, that was true.  And those contracts contained no penalty for late delivery.

Did the current contract contain a penalty for late delivery?

No, it didn’t.

Well, there you go. Isn’t it about time the state began penalizing the winning bidder if it failed to deliver on time?

So that’s how they did it.

The state rejected all bids, put a penalty clause for late delivery in the contract, and rebid it. Nevermind that it was Galion that had failed to deliver on time. 

And, yes, Galion won the rebid.

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OK, here’s one more.

The N.C. Division of Motor Vehicles sent a job applicant a form letter pointing out that he had two, five-year-old speeding convictions on his record  and that “may be a negative” factor– some applicants have clean records.

 The tone was, “Don’t call us, we’ll call you,” he told me, and they didn’t.

Three months later another man applied for the same type job at DMV. His driving record included four convictions for speeding; two for reckless driving; two for illegal passing; one for driving on the wrong side of the road; and one safe-movement violation and four driver license suspensions.

He got hired.  His father was a Democratic county commission chairman and he had a recommendation from Gov. James B. Hunt’s Office.

When I asked the commissioner of motor vehicles why the fellow with a lousy driving record got hired while the one with two five-year-old convictions was not hired the commissioner looked at me like I had just arrived in Raleigh on a turnip truck.

This one had a sponsor, he said. That one didn’t.

 Coming Monday:  Dixie Dew

My Face Is Still Red

We all do something embarrassing every once in a while, don’t we?

***Blurting out one too many hallelujahs while singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

***Sending a private, very personal, email  to “Reply to all” instead of “Reply.”

**Making a noise you should not have made any time you’re not alone. I think you know what I’m talking about.

Why is it that we forget many of our wonderful days and some of our triumphs, too, but we remember those red face moments for decades, maybe until the day we die.

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I’ve already told you about one of my most embarrassing moments — squirting mustard on a perfect stranger.

And then there was the time I turned a tape recorder on during a murder trial, after the judge had issued an order not the record any testimony.  I tried to record a witness but instead of pushing the “record” button I pushed the “play” button.

[Oh, cut me some slack. I was still in my twenties.]

In my defense, let me say this: I wasn’t present when the judge issued the order and I said to myself,  Self, if he hasn’t told you personally, his order doesn’t apply to you.

I was wrong about that.

The judge interrupted the trial  and asked me, right then and there, if I had recorded anything the witness had said.  I said, “No, sir.”

[I had tried to record it, I admit that, but that is not what he asked, people.]

The trial was in Brunswick, GA, and the reporters from Charlotte [I was reporting for The Charlotte News.] were staying at the same hotel. The judge was  staying there, too.  At night, we’d all get together and have a beer or two. That night the judge told me: “I was going to put you in jail, but I saw how red your face was and I thought you had been punished enough.”

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About this time every year, at Christmastime, I am reminded of another one of my most embarrassing moments.

I was a sophomore at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, working part-time as a student assistant in the UNC Sports Information Office.  My wife, Donna,  was a secretary at the UNC School of Nursing. We had  married in June and now she was pregnant.   Money was tight and about to get a lot tighter.

My office was going to have a Christmas party and I was told there would be a gift for me.  That meant I had to have gifts for the others, gifts we couldn’t afford. But what choice did I have? I spent a good part of a week’s pay  –I made $1 an hour — buying nice presents for my boss and two co-workers.

I showed up for the party, wrapped presents in hand.  Only, it turned out, I wasn’t invited.

They gave me a bottle of shaving lotion, wished me “Merry Christmas,” and I left, red-faced.

Fifty-six years later I am still embarrassed at the memory.

Coming Monday:  Tomorrow Is Not Promised