Quoted in this one
in the Sacramento News and Review:
Sacramento City Council members keep inventing new, creative
ways to collect money and funnel it into their own political “brands.”
And we need new rules to keep up with their inventions.
Last week, some local pro-labor Democrats asked the California
attorney general and Fair Political Practices Commission to investigate Mayor Kevin Johnson’s 501(c)(3) organizations, and the collection of hundreds of thousands of dollars from Walmart, leading up to the vote on Sacramento’s contentious big-box store policy this week.
But when the Walmart battle is over, the problem will remain: These nonprofit organizations lack transparency, they lack clear rules, and they mix public resources with the council members’ political interests.
City Councilman Jay Schenirer’s organization, WayUp Sacramento, has gotten considerably less attention than the mayor’s efforts. But it blurs plenty of lines.
WayUp helps to fund programs for at-risk youth in Oak Park, and that’s a perfectly good thing to do.
But last year, Sacramento City Manager John Shirey said it was
inappropriate for outside nonprofits—such as Johnson’s education
nonprofit Stand Up, or his arena-booster group Think Big Sacramento—to
operate out of City Hall or use city resources.
In some ways, Schenirer’s WayUp looks quite similar to Johnson’s
groups. WayUp has a website, paid staff and receives big donations
through the city’s “behest” system, just as the mayor’s nonprofits
do—including checks from businesses like Walmart, AT&T, and Sutter Health, along with foundation support from the California Endowment. WayUp has taken in nearly $800,000 since Schenirer was elected in 2010.
So, why does WayUp get to operate in City Hall after K.J.’s
nonprofits were shown the door? The short answer is that WayUp isn’t
really a nonprofit, not yet. According to Schenirer, it’s a “brand.”
“It’s somewhat curious that ‘brand’ is the word they use,”
says Jessica Levinson, professor of election law at Loyola Law School.
“’Brand’ can certainly be seen as PR for the candidate.”
Like when Schenirer toured his district during National Night Out last week, handing out WayUp tote bags and buttons.
She’s not sure Schenirer is doing anything wrong, though, she adds, “The thing that feels a bit funny is that it is using government resources.”
Schenirer says “brand” applies to the community work WayUp does. But
of course it’s an extension of Schenirer’s brand as a politician, and an
extension of his professional brand, too.
Schenirer is an education consultant; that’s how he makes his money.
Among WayUp’s stated goals are “an ambitious, rigorous, and
comprehensive strategy of reform” for schools in Schenirer’s district.
He told Bites that school reform is “a generic term,” and that, in this
case, it means noncontroversial things like school nutrition programs.
But the project description that WayUp sent to the U.S. Department of
Education advocates policies that are related to the work done by
Schenirer’s consulting business, Capitol Impact LLC, and its principals.
The WayUp brand seems to be where Schenirer’s interests as a public
office holder, politician and professional education consultant all
intersect. How much intersection is OK? That’s where some sort of city policy would be helpful.
They might want to keep an eye on Schenirer’s variation as well,
which Levinson says makes for a “fascinating” but potentially
problematic new tool for politicians.
“Until there’s more guidance, politicians will continue to do this. They’d be foolish not to,” she said.