By Steven Pearlstein
Friday, April 27, 2007

Let's just put it right out there: Despite some stiff competition, Prince George's County may now have the most dysfunctional and ethically challenged political leadership in the Washington region.

Major decisions are made not on the basis of what is best for the public, but what is best for elected officials and their supporters.

What started out as reasonable attempts to create business opportunity for African American businessmen has turned into an effort to direct money and contracts and investment opportunities to politically connected and community organizations.

The results not only include inferior public services but a growing reputation among developers and other businesses that it's expensive, risky and frustrating to try to do business with Prince George's County.

I base this conclusion not only on the basis of much fine reporting by reporters at The Post and the Prince George's Gazette, but on the basis of several dozen conversations in recent months with developers, lawyers, business executives, state officials and hard-working employees of the county government. These people are not naive -- they've been around the track many times and are aware of the realities of politics, the role of favors and the need to satisfy powerful interests and noisy political constituencies. Even these people are appalled at the arrogance and the brazenness of the county's elected officials.

This is a county that extracts money from developers for community projects -- and then puts it in the hands of a committee of political insiders who direct it to politically powerful churches and to private schools attended by their own children.

This is a county that has complained for years that it is neglected by quality retailers and restaurants -- and then, when the establishments announce plans to come, fails to deliver the necessary wine and beer licenses because of a feud within the county's legislative delegation or because some legislator felt he had not been treated with the "proper respect."

Here is a county council that now routinely uses extraordinary powers to take jurisdiction over developments already okayed by the planning board, holding up approval until developers agree to give them funds to hand out to community groups or take on certain minority businessmen as consultants or partners.

And I didn't even mention the police department or the schools.

But none of these outrages compares to the screw-up surrounding the county's troubled hospital system that not only struggles to provide adequate medical care, but has cost county taxpayers tens of millions of dollars to cover operating losses and will surely cost them tens of millions more.

The nonprofit entity chartered to run the county hospitals had anticipated the financial troubles back in 1997 and began a search for an experienced private operator to take over the system. By the end of 2000, the board of Dimensions Healthcare System had at least two interested bidders who were willing to invest $50 million for needed capital improvements, guarantee indigent care and make a cash payment of tens of millions of dollars to the county. But to move forward, the county would have to agree to transfer ownership of hospital system's land and buildings, which Dimension occupied under a long-term lease.

The county executive at the time, Wayne Curry, chose not to get involved with the hospital mess. But when Jack B. Johnson took over as county executive in 2003, it quickly became obvious that his intention was not to get out of the hospital business, but to take more control of a system he considered badly managed and too closely tied to the county's old-boy political establishment.

According to two board members, Johnson's first move was to send his chief of staff to demand the undated resignations of all the top Dimensions executives -- a demand that was rebuffed. A Johnson spokesman denies that ever happened.

The county executive also made clear he wanted many of the directors to resign, among them the chairman, Calvin Brown, who would later accuse Johnson of refusing to release emergency funds for the hospitals until one of his associates was hired as a senior manager. Johnson denied that allegation as well, and a state prosecutor found there to be insufficient evidence to file criminal charges.

Eventually, with operating losses piling up, even Johnson realized that the county hospital system was a political honey pot that was too expensive to maintain. Earlier this year, he struck a behind-the-scenes deal with Doctors Community Hospital and MedStar Health.

Unfortunately, Johnson never bothered to get the support of the county council, which would have to approve the sale of the land and buildings. Nor did he get the support from the governor or the county's legislative delegation, even though his "plan" required the state to pony up $37 million a year in subsidies for a decade and guarantee $400 million to $500 million in construction bonds. Johnson's rescue plan went nowhere.

So in the waning days of the state's legislative session, with bankruptcy looming, the governor and state legislative leaders stepped in and proposed a temporary state takeover, with an eye to eventual sale. Johnson agreed, the delegation agreed, but the council balked.

In public, council members claimed the deal breaker was the temporary tax on county residents that the state plan required. But in private, according to several people involved in the negotiations, council leaders seemed more focused on how much the county would be paid for its land and buildings and whether the council would control redevelopment rights for the Prince George's Hospital site in Cheverly if that facility were to be closed, as many expect.

"The single most depressing aspect of this whole affair was that the prospect of coming up with a first-class medical facility in Prince George's County did not seem to be of great interest to any of the county officials," one official involved in the negotiation told me this week. "They were satisfied to accept mediocre health care if some choice piece of land could go to friends."

That pretty much says it all.

Steven Pearlstein can be reached at pearlsteins@washpost.com.