[nfbmi-talk] what has changed goodwill's peckham and new horizons

[Terry D. Eagle]

The problem I have is that under federal contracts the persons with
disablities are exploited for their labor at .22 cents an hour, while
commercial companies like Halaburton are exploiting the taxpayer with goods
sold to the government and military at prices hundreds of times market
wholesale prices.

Even the automobile industry has exploited the labor of persons with
disabilities under contracts with the likes of Peckham Industries, to
manufacture auto parts like seat belts for pennies per item, then resale
those parts in new vehicles or as replacement parts at huge profits.

I know a person that works at Peckham Industries that landed a $12 per hour,
plus benefits, job under a federal contract to employ persons with
disabilities, with a certified disability of an injured knee from a high
school football injury, while Peckham Industries refuses to hire totally
blind persons because Peckham's computers are not equipped with screen
readers; an accommodation Peckham Industries should make under the law and
contracts they hold with the federal government.  Sadly, the federal
government turns its' head and experiences momentary deafness when issues
are brought to their attention by persons with disabilities and their
advocates.

Just follow the money--the money flowing into political canpaigns of both
the Republican and Democrat parties, and it is clear and obvious who the
politicians and public policy makers represent, and it is not the hard
working citizen and persons with disabilities.   

-----Original Message-----
From: nfbmi-talk [mailto:nfbmi-talk-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of joe
harcz Comcast
Sent: Thursday, August 29, 2013 11:23 PM
To: nfbmi-talk at nfbnet.org
Subject: [nfbmi-talk] what has changed goodwill's peckham and new horizons

Old article still relevent today....

Joe
Charity Leaders' Pay Soars Under Federal Jobs Program

 

BY JEFFREY KOSSEFF, BRYAN DENSON And LES ZAITZ

c.2006 Newhouse News Service

 

\

 

When Congress created the nation's most ambitious jobs program for Americans
with severe disabilities, the idea was straightforward and rich with
compassion.

 

Federal agencies would reserve contracts for small nonprofit workshops that
hired epileptics, paraplegics and the mentally retarded to make simple
products

such as mousetraps, blackboards and first-aid kits. The disabled would gain
a decent paycheck, some self-esteem and a chance to learn skills that
someday

might land them a better job.

 

More than three decades later, the nonprofits increasingly are hiring
workers who are mildly disabled, if at all, with aching backs,
substance-abuse problems

and other maladies common in the American workplace. This new class of
federally subsidized worker is getting the highest-paid jobs, while many of
the

most severely disabled toil for pennies an hour.

 

Their bosses are benefiting handsomely, with leaders at many of the
program's biggest charities pulling in private sector-style compensation as
the new

money rolls in. At least a dozen earn $350,000 or more a year, and average
pay and benefits for top executives at the program's largest nonprofits have

grown more than three times faster than their workers' pay.

 

The program's key requirement -- that three of every four hours of work is
performed by people with severe disabilities -- is policed under what's
essentially

an honor system. Oversight is so weak that the biggest contractor, a Texas
nonprofit, amassed $834 million in government sales despite repeated
findings

that it couldn't document many of its workers' disabilities.

 

This radical reordering of the government's priorities comes at a cost. Many
of the most severely disabled workers, who labor at charities with
shoestring

budgets, have been left behind.

 

"Like a lot of federal contracting, the big money drives it," said David
Wiegan, who believes workers at his small nonprofit in McMinnville, Ore.,
are simply

too disabled to win many of the contracts now offered by the program. He
said some bigger charities are drifting away from their social welfare
missions:

"I think they get sucked in, and I think they lose their sense of what's
right and wrong when they're tempted by a lot of big dollars."

 

Called Javits-Wagner-O'Day after its founders in Congress, the program
requires federal agencies to buy certain goods or services from nonprofits
that employ

blind or severely disabled workers. Prices are set by regulators and the
nonprofits, which collaborate with federal agencies that set aside contracts
for

the nonprofits.

 

The program is administered like no other in the government. A
presidentially appointed committee delegates much day-to-day oversight to
two trade associations

representing nonprofits. These groups collect up to a 4 percent commission
on every contract they monitor, creating a basic conflict of interest:
Booting

a charity from the program cuts their own revenue stream.

 

Sales in the $2.25 billion program have doubled during the Bush
administration, driven largely by the post-Sept. 11 boom in Pentagon
contracts for complex

tasks such as sewing chemical-warfare suits or fixing battle-scarred
Humvees. Delivering on those contracts requires a more skilled -- and less
disabled

-- work force with salaries that are often comparable to the private sector.

 

Across the country, about 300,000 blind or disabled workers hold jobs at
small charities similar to Wiegan's, with most earning less than minimum
wage under

a federal law that allows them to be compensated based on their limited
productivity. While many federal programs for the disabled have faced steep
budget

cuts, Javits-Wagner-O'Day continues to grow year to year and now employs
more than 48,000 workers.

 

The Oregonian of Portland, Ore., began investigating the program as part of
a continuing series of reports examining the evolution of nonprofits that
employ

America's disabled workers. The findings, drawn from hundreds of interviews,
thousands of pages of documents and visits to more than a dozen charities

in seven states, reveal a program that drifted far from its founding
principles with little outside scrutiny or public debate about who is
benefiting.

 

Periodic attempts to change Javits-Wagner-O'Day have foundered on opposition
from nonprofits and their advocacy groups, which are skilled at lobbying
against

reforms. But pressure for change is mounting as some in Congress question
whether nonprofit executives are cashing in at the expense of the disabled.

 

The program "is intended to benefit many persons with disabilities, not a
handful of nonprofit executives," said Sen. Mike Enzi, a Wyoming Republican
who

chairs the Senate Health, Education, Labor and Pensions Committee.

 

Enzi held a hearing on the program last fall and will be an influential
player this year as Congress considers updating Javits-Wagner-O'Day. He said
he's

concerned that small charities can't get contracts while "much larger
nonprofits grow rich." More should be done to get disabled workers into
mainstream

jobs, he said.

 

That long-term goal -- to train disabled workers so they can compete for
jobs on the open market -- has taken a back seat. Figures reviewed by The
Oregonian

show only 2,450 workers moved from Javits-Wagner-O'Day jobs into the regular
workplace last year, a figure that has fallen despite the program's surge

in growth.

 

Mike Davis is not the kind of worker lawmakers said they had in mind when
they drafted Javits-Wagner-O'Day, but he owes his job to the program.

 

The 29-year-old mechanic, out of the Army on a medical discharge, found work
at Skookum Educational Programs, one of the biggest charities in
Javits-Wagner-O'Day.

Weekdays, he fixes Humvees and 19-ton military cargo trucks at Fort Lewis,
Wash., tearing into engines battered by duty in Iraq and elsewhere.

 

Davis earns $24.56 an hour, including about $3 for medical benefits and
retirement. He has a hearing problem -- corrected by hearing aids -- and
backaches

that he says made him unemployable elsewhere.

 

Congress envisioned helping a different class of veterans 35 years ago. With
troops streaming home from the Vietnam War, lawmakers pondered expanding a

small program that since the 1930s had set aside contracts for the blind.
Their plan was to open the program to veterans with missing limbs, paralysis

or brain damage, plus 12 million working-age adults left unemployed by major
disabilities.

 

President Nixon's chief disability-employment training official told
lawmakers who would get the jobs.

 

"We are talking about mentally retarded and the paraplegic ... and
quadriplegic," Edward Newman told Congress. He included "deaf people with
severe psychomotor

problems ... and people with other kinds of neurological involvement such as
people with severe cerebral palsy or epilepsy."

 

That definition is now archaic. With the acquiescence of regulators,
nonprofits gradually have expanded the notion of severely disabled to
include ailments

never discussed when the law was amended in 1971. The additions include
conditions such as alcoholism or chemical dependency, minor learning
disabilities,

limited English, nasal polyps, carpal tunnel syndrome, allergies, arthritis
and speech impairments.

 

The broadened notion of who is disabled, in combination with the surge in
military spending since Sept. 11, has revolutionized many of the biggest
nonprofits

in Javits-Wagner-O'Day. It also has stretched the boundaries of the
program's most fundamental rule: 75 percent of the work hours logged by
contractors

must be supplied by blind or severely disabled workers.

 

Skookum is a case study in the transformation.

 

For years, the bulk of Skookum's developmentally disabled workers made
jump-ropes or sorted recyclables in businesses cultivated by founder Jim
Westall.

The jump-rope business still occupies a room at the company's airy
headquarters in Port Townsend, Wash., but the fact that it no longer turns a
profit

is of little concern.

 

In 2001, Skookum landed a five-year, $64 million Javits-Wagner-O'Day
contract to diagnose and repair Army vehicles that overnight promised to
double the

nonprofit's annual revenues.

 

When the Army later told Skookum that thousands of damaged vehicles were
heading back from Iraq, Westall couldn't find enough disabled employees in a
hurry

to handle the load. So the government granted Skookum a three-month waiver
of its disability requirement, Westall said. The waiver has expired, and the

work goes on.

 

The contract now has 120 workers with pay averaging $20 an hour. At least
one has a missing leg, though most others suffer learning, hearing and
physical

afflictions, such as back and joint pain.

 

Westall, a former special education teacher and Skookum's chief executive,
acknowledges that workers at the Fort Lewis garage are higher functioning
than

many others in Javits-Wagner-O'Day. The nature of the work demands it, he
said: "They have to be able to do the work or the Army has no use for them.
You

have to know an axle from a gas cap."

 

Westall thinks the program should be expanded to cover a wider range of
workers, including perhaps battered women. Until then, he said, meeting the
program's

standard of 75 percent disabled labor boils down to a balancing act.

 

"Move too far one way -- and hire too many people with too severe
disabilities who can't do the work -- and we lose our contract," he said.
"Move too far

the other way -- to this place where we have all of these high-functioning
people that can do the work but (have) questionable disabilities -- we lose

our soul."

 

Skookum is hardly alone.

 

Many of the biggest charities in Javits-Wagner-O'Day routinely use workers
with modest disabilities. What matters, they say, is not the type of
disability

but whether it prevents them from holding a job outside the program.

 

One of the most successful is Fedcap Rehabilitation Services, a New York
City charity that pays an average of $17.87 an hour to Javits-Wagner-O'Day
workers.

Fedcap, which supplies custodial crews for federal buildings, reports the
program's third-highest average wage, mostly because the nonprofit pays
union

scale.

 

Like Skookum, the charity specialized in hiring workers with profound
physical disabilities when it was founded 70 years ago. Now, Fedcap workers
include

many with learning disabilities, mental illness, alcoholism and substance
abuse who are judged unemployable elsewhere, said Susan Fonfa, the charity's

executive director.

 

"Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not real," Fonfa said. "We
will get people with every disability possible, just about."

 

Critics of this hiring trend say it's less a balancing act than a cop-out.
Some charities are cashing in on the government's largess, they say, while
smaller

nonprofits with workers who are far needier can't get in.

 

At Wiegan's nonprofit in Oregon, for instance, the majority of the 150
workers are mentally retarded, autistic, blind, or beset with other physical
or developmental

disabilities. Their problems are too severe to perform much of the work now
being offered under Javits-Wagner-O'Day, Wiegan said.

 

For years, Mid-Valley Rehabilitation has tried to land a contract under the
program, Wiegan said. The nonprofit turned down one offer to make military
footlockers,

he said, because the costs were too high. Any worker who can repair a Humvee
has no business taking money under Javits-Wagner-O'Day, he said.

 

"It's beyond absurd," Wiegan said. "If they can do that work, they're
competitively employable. It's crystal clear."

 

Wiegan's nonprofit is more typical of those that employ the severely
disabled. Because such workers are normally less productive, the law allows
charities

like Mid-Valley to pay less than the federal minimum wage of $5.15 an hour.
About 300,000 workers fall into this category, according to U.S. Labor
Department

estimates. Even so, about 70 percent of the nation's disabled adults remain
unemployed.

 

When people with truly severe disabilities are lucky enough to land work
under Javits-Wagner-O'Day, they're often paid a subminimum wage. To get a
picture

of how little these employees earn, The Oregonian analyzed earnings records
for eight large contractors. They show that 1,644 employees with severe
disabilities

received a median wage of $1.93 an hour.

 

Megan Brixey is the type of worker lawmakers envisioned helping when
Congress expanded Javits-Wagner-O'Day.

 

The 27-year-old McMinnville resident has Down syndrome and a job loading
lumber for $3.91 an hour at a wood-products company run by Wiegan's
nonprofit.

Brixey said she dreams of magic -- "Like Harry Potter," she says -- wishing
that it flowed into her hands to make her a faster worker.

 

Wiegan said the big contracts and high pay for workers with mild
disabilities send a blunt message to his severely disabled employees:
"They're not as important

as the money."

 

The money has been a boon to top executives at the biggest nonprofits. As
sales ballooned under Javits-Wagner-O'Day, charity boards have adopted
compensation

packages and marketing budgets that resemble those of the private sector.

 

Nineteen years ago, a disability counselor started a tiny nonprofit jobs
program deep in the heart of Appalachia with a small grant. Since then,
Terri McRae

has built Advocacy & Resources Corp. of Cookeville, Tenn., into a
multimillion-dollar producer of baking mix, fortified vegetable oil and
other food for

the government. The charity drew $50 million in federal contracts last year,
making it one of the largest in Javits-Wagner-O'Day.

 

McRae's paychecks mirrored the charity's success.

 

In 2004, as her nonprofit landed large contracts with the military and U.S.
Department of Agriculture, her wages, deferred compensation and benefits had

grown to $518,835, up from $66,500 a few years earlier.

 

McRae readily defends her compensation. Her nonprofit pays market wages to
all employees, including the executives, she said. Running a
multimillion-dollar

government contractor requires deep knowledge of many regulatory
requirements, something that has taken years to develop, McRae said.

 

"I'm telling you what -- my job's a hard damn job," McRae said in an
interview last summer. "And when I'm gone, I'm going to be really hard to
replace."

 

The Oregonian analyzed tax forms for Javits-Wagner-O'Day's 50 largest
contractors, which together account for about two-thirds of the program's
sales. More

than a dozen reported executives with pay and benefits exceeding $350,000 in
2004, the most recent year for which complete tax records are available.

 

The list includes Bill Hudson, president of LC Industries Inc. in Durham,
N.C., who made $537,787; John Miller, chief executive of Goodwill Industries
of

Southeastern Wisconsin, who made $444,405; and Terry Allen Perl, chief
executive of The Chimes Inc. in Baltimore, who drew $704,175. The charities
said

salaries for all three were set by their board members based on pay at
similar-sized operations.

 

The largest Javits-Wagner-O'Day contractor, an El Paso, Texas, company with
$276 million in sales to the military and other agencies last year, reports

no salary for its president, Robert E. Jones. Instead, the National Center
for the Employment of the Disabled said it paid $4 million in 2004 to a
management

firm controlled by Jones' family trust.

 

Average pay and benefits for the top contractors' CEOs climbed 57 percent
between 2000 and 2004, a period in which average hourly pay for their
severely

disabled workers increased 16 percent.

 

The CEOs averaged $248,287 in pay and benefits in 2004, up from $241,164 a
year earlier and $158,400 in 2000. By comparison, only a quarter of
human-services

nonprofits with budgets greater than $5 million gave their CEOs pay and
benefits exceeding $155,520 in 2003, according to Guidestar, a national
clearinghouse

for charity data.

 

The Oregonian's averages exclude two nonprofits: Mississippi Industries for
the Blind, because it is run by the state, and the El Paso charity, because

it reports only a management fee and not Jones' salary.

 

Few observers expect charity officials to take vows of poverty. But in
recent years, controversy about perks, insider deals and big executive
salaries has

prompted Congress to threaten a crackdown.

 

Internal Revenue Service rules require nonprofit boards to base executive
salaries on a review of what's paid to comparable business leaders. Some of
those

familiar with Javits-Wagner-O'Day, including Fredric Schroeder, a former
member of the committee that oversees the program, find the rising paychecks
unseemly.

 

"There is the clear appearance that people with severe disabilities are
being paid low wages with no oversight of those wages and that executives
are being

paid astronomical wages," said Schroeder, who sat on the program's oversight
committee during the Clinton administration.

 

The boom in contracts has fattened both salaries and the balance sheet at
many Javits-Wagner-O'Day nonprofits. Net assets of the top 50 charities grew
60

percent between 2000 and 2004, with the biggest exploding by five times or
more.

 

Charities now fret over things like "brand identity." The trade association
representing most of the program's nonprofits spent $500,000 on lobbying and

$3 million on marketing and communications in 2004, according to tax forms
and congressional records.

 

Charity officials say the spending aims to boost awareness about the
program's goals and to attract more federal business. But it also adds
overhead. Supplies,

marketing, management salaries and other costs take up the bulk of the
program's money. Only about 18 percent of the $2.25 billion spent in 2005
went to

wages for the disabled.

 

The 15-member committee that oversees Javits-Wagner-O'Day does not police
salaries, deferring instead to the IRS. Recently, the program's growth
prompted

the committee to consider setting new governance and conflict-of-interest
standards for nonprofits, which overwhelmingly have criticized the move as
an

intrusion.

 

Stronger oversight would be a departure. When it comes to policing its key
mandate -- that contractors use severely disabled workers for three-fourths
of

their labor -- even top officials concede they haven't aggressively
monitored the nonprofits.

 

Headquartered on the 10th floor of a bland high-rise near the Pentagon, the
Committee for Purchase From People Who Are Blind or Severely Disabled is one

of smallest and most unusual agencies in the government.

 

By law, the panel of 15 presidential appointees -- four representatives of
blind and disabled workers, and 11 federal government managers -- decides
which

federal contracts are set aside under Javits-Wagner-O'Day. Their choices,
which are seldom reviewed by Congress, can steer hundreds of millions of
dollars

to obscure nonprofits.

 

In an arrangement with few parallels in government, the law allows the
presidential committee to assign most contract management duties to two
trade associations,

the National Industries for the Blind, or NIB, and NISH, formerly known as
the National Industries for the Severely Handicapped.

 

For years, government regulators visited charities to determine whether they
employed enough severely disabled workers. Employees of the trade groups
also

visited the charities to help them comply with the labor rules. But in 2001,
with fewer than 30 staffers tracking more than $1 billion in contracts, the

agency delegated regular site inspections to the trade associations.

 

The decision was made without significant public debate or even a committee
vote. "With my staff of 29 people, NIB and NISH can put more resources
against

that," said Leon Wilson, executive director of the presidential panel. "I
still believe that was a better path for us to take."

 

On paper, the panel still has broad authority to cut off contracts from
nonprofits that fail to meet the program's requirement that 75 percent of
all labor

be performed by workers with severe disabilities.

 

In reality, it's an honor system with little enforcement. Nonprofits file
annual reports, but NISH officials visit only once every three years. They
randomly

sample employee files to check the ratio of severely disabled labor hours.
If paperwork is complete, the nonprofit passes.

 

Robert Chamberlin, NISH's chief executive, said his staffers do not
interview workers to verify their disabilities because of restrictions set
by federal

health privacy laws. More importantly, Chamberlin said, NISH does not have
the legal authority to conduct audits or investigations of the program's
contractors.

 

"They have specifically told us, `You're not auditors,"' he said. "`You're
not investigators. Your mission is to go in an assist mode."'

 

The tiny federal committee does visit new nonprofits or those known to have
problems. But officials acknowledge that no one regularly audits longtime
participants

in the program.

 

The trade groups have an incentive to resolve issues amicably. The charities
pay them up to 4 percent on each contract. The commissions helped boost
NISH's

revenue 86 percent over four years, to $58 million in 2004.

 

The trade associations "live on the commissions that come from the contracts
that go to these nonprofits," said Schroeder, the former committee member.

"So are they genuinely interested in pulling the plug on a contract that
appears to be unreasonably operated? ... I'm not suggesting evil, but
there's

no truly independent oversight."

 

Rules of the Javits-Wagner-O'Day program leave room for some interpretation
of who qualifies as "severely disabled." They say a worker must suffer from

a "severe physical or mental impairment" that so limits his or her ability
to walk, talk or work that the person is unable to "engage in normal
competitive

employment."

 

The law specifies a measurable standard for blindness -- 20/200 vision in
the best corrected eye. As such, there are few questions about workers at
the

74 nonprofits represented by NIB, the trade group for the blind.

 

But the range of other disabilities is much less clearly defined. NISH,
which represents 553 contractors, demands only that its charities document
that

workers have disabilities preventing them from finding other jobs.

 

The program's lax oversight can be seen in the committee's dealings with El
Paso's National Center for the Employment of the Disabled, the program's
biggest

contractor.

 

Officials with the committee and NISH began examining in 1999 whether the
nonprofit used enough labor from severely disabled workers. By May 2000,
officials

on three separate occasions had found inadequate documentation to back up
disability claims. The problems did not stop the nonprofit from building its

business year after year.

 

Last spring, an anonymous complaint triggered a visit from committee
investigators, who found payroll reports indicating only 39 percent of the
nonprofit's

labor was from severely disabled workers. Still, it wasn't until January
that the committee ordered NISH to send a compliance team to El Paso to
review

all the nonprofit's records.

 

Since then, the charity's largest customer -- the Defense Supply Center in
Philadelphia -- said NISH alerted commanders of "some concerns" about
whether

the nonprofit was using enough severely disabled labor. A spokeswoman said
Friday that the center last week "ceased placing orders with NCED" until the

concerns are resolved. Separately, charity officials are scheduled to appear
before the committee Thursday to address the work-force issue.

 

Not since the early 1990s has the committee or NISH released an accounting
of the types of disabilities in the Javits-Wagner-O'Day work force. The
Oregonian

sent surveys to the 50 largest contractors in an attempt to categorize
disabilities, but only six responded, too few for a reliable sample. NISH
has worked

for months to compile such a report, but results were not ready as of last
week.

 

Linda Merrill, chief executive at Envision, a Kansas nonprofit that
primarily employs blind workers, said it's time for "severely disabled" to
be defined

more strictly.

 

"We're kind of joking among ourselves," said Merrill, "that instead of
National Industries for the Severely Handicapped, it's National Industries
for the

Severe Hangnail and Hemorrhoids."

 

NISH's Chamberlin acknowledged that nonprofits have an incentive to employ
people who have higher productivity, but he does not blame that on the
federal

program. Customers increasingly are demanding high quality at low prices, he
said.

 

"The government is tough," Chamberlin said. To address the problem, he said,
NISH is attempting to find more business in areas such as document
destruction

and laundry, which are better suited to people with more severe
disabilities.

 

Powerful forces on Capitol Hill are beginning to recognize problems with
Javits-Wagner-O'Day, foreshadowing a showdown between lawmakers and
charities in

the program.

 

Two U.S. senators have introduced a bill that would reserve some federal
contracts for private businesses employing disabled workers. And a Senate
committee

held a hearing in October, taking testimony about soaring executive salaries
and misdirected resources.

 

Enzi, the Wyoming senator, said the program should do more to move workers
into mainstream jobs. As it stands, only 5 percent of the severely disabled
workers

in the program move to private-sector jobs, down from 7 percent in 2000.
Wilson, director of the presidential panel, said workers are reluctant to
leave

nonprofits because they are friendly places with wages and benefits that are
often superior to comparable private companies.

 

Newman, the former Nixon administration official, said policymakers expanded
the program in 1971 hoping to train workers and move them out of low-paying

"sheltered workshop" nonprofits and into the regular work force. Now, he
sees a reversal.

 

"They are rebuilding a sheltered workshop mentality, when the efforts of the
'60s and '70s was to help people with disabilities be able to join the
mainstream

of the work world," said Newman, now a professor at Temple University.

 

If history is any guide, changes to the Javits-Wagner-O'Day program are
likely to be met with great resistance by many of the biggest charities.

 

The chairman of the presidential oversight committee, Steve Schwalb, said
alarm about rising executive pay led members to propose a $207,000
compensation

cap in late 2004. The figure seemed reasonable because $207,000 was the top
compensation for federal managers, most of whom run agencies larger than the

program's nonprofits.

 

What followed was a roar of protest from nonprofit executives, board members
who set their salaries and some of their lawyers.

 

Schwalb's committee withdrew the proposal. But after The Oregonian last fall
reported on rising executive salaries and Enzi's committee held hearings,
the

presidential panel proposed more stringent governance standards for
nonprofits along with a possible compensation limit, though it has not
specified a

number.

 

Chamberlin, who as head of NISH earned salary and benefits totaling $299,565
in 2004, has been among the opponents of a salary cap. The trade group had

argued against the $207,000 pay limit, calling it discriminatory and
unnecessary.

 

One supporter of a compensation limit is John Murphy, who earned $130,310 in
pay and benefits as the head of Portland Habilitation Center in 2004. The
nonprofit

provides janitorial services for federal buildings and is Oregon's biggest
Javits-Wagner-O'Day contractor.

 

Murphy, who sits on the NISH board of directors, said it will be difficult
for the program to determine a maximum salary. But it's needed, he said.

 

"The committee should make some judgments and come down on organizations
where it just stinks," Murphy said. "The reputation of the program is at
stake."

 

March 7, 2006

 

(Jeff Kosseff, Bryan Denson and Les Zaitz are staff writers for The
Oregonian of Portland, Ore. They can be contacted at
jeff.kosseff at newhouse.com, bryandenson at news.oregonian.com.

and leszaitz at news.oregonian.com. News researchers Margie Gultry and Kathleen
Blythe contributed to this report.

 

table end
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