Economic agoraphobia

So what’s the latest thing that airline you’re flying next week had to cut from the budget? Spare fuel? A co-captain? Air masks? Replacement parts for the landing gear? Were a few mechanics or maintenance folks no longer affordable? Did somebody decide an aging fleet of jets that should have been retired years ago will just have to be duct-taped and baling-wired together for a few hundred more flights?

Not picking on the airlines here – statistically, you’re still safer in the air than just about anywhere else – but the Metro rail crash in D.C. got me thinking about something that must have occurred to lots of people, even if not many talk a lot about it out loud.

Namely: Just how much has this crappy economy put people who use mass transportation at risk?

It’s a creepy question precisely at a time when we desperately need more people to get out of their cars and into more efficient forms of transportation for the sake of the economy, the environment and our whole quality of life.

But that’s not going to happen if you start wondering whether one of the corners somebody decided to cut was the one with your life in it.

Some early speculation about the Metro tragedy, whose body count stood at nine as of Wednesday, centered on the use of aging train cars whose emergency systems might have failed. There’s still a lot of investigating to be done, and the usual suspect – human error – could still turn out to be the culprit.

But it would be naïve to think that the pressure of a tanking economy hasn’t put us at risk.

To use an example fairly close to home: Delta’s financial troubles have been almost daily biz page fodder for years now. That hasn’t stopped me from flying Delta several times over that period, and won’t for the foreseeable future. But I consciously try to avoid – at least while I’m in the air -- thinking about things like how old the plane might be, or how deeply the cost-cutting process has cut into things that contribute to passenger and crew safety.

Those things cost money. So do things like brakes, and bridges, and railroad trestles, and safety inspections, and crossing signals, and even traffic lights. And almost nobody has enough money right now.

So I’d be mighty comforted if somebody could convince me that money and safety have nothing to do with one another, and that when I leave my house – to cross a street, a state or an ocean – I’m just as safe as I would be if times were flush. It’ll be a tough sell.

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Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy

It was an item that seemed to go all but unnoticed last week, at least judging from the attention it got on TV (none) or in the news pages (brief notice, buried inside).

Richard Scrushy – former HealthSouth CEO, Archweasel of the Grand Duchy of Alabama and looter extraordinaire in a state where the looting of public assets is considered the highest calling of public service – was ordered to pay up.

A state judge in Montgomery ordered Scrushy – whose net worth at last report was down to a poverty-line $284 million – to pay upward of $3 billion to shareholders who had filed suit over years of HealthSouth execs overstating assets and earnings. Circuit Judge Allwin E. Horn ruled that Scrushy “knew of and participated in” phony earnings reports filed with regulators between 1996 and 2002.

Scrushy, in case the name doesn’t ring a bell, is the fat cat who used his ill-gotten millions to buy himself a “Christian” radio show, which in turn enabled him to co-opt a handful of gullible preachers to pollute the jury pool in his federal fraud case.

He dodged that rap but was convicted on a bribery charge, along with former Alabama Gov. Don Siegelman, in a case that might have been contaminated by the simple fact that it was prosecuted by the Bush Justice Department. Enough said. Meanwhile, Scrushy is, at least for the time being, on ice in the Big House, where if there’s any justice, he’s made the close acquaintance of new friends with nicknames like Big Bubba and Tony The Tool.

This is another one of those infuriating instances where some thieving dirtbag who’s been living large on other people’s money gets caught and supposedly “ruined” -- but still manages to come out of it all fabulously rich. How exactly does that happen?

One Alabama judge is obviously trying to make sure it doesn’t.
If the numbers are accurate -- and Scrushy doesn’t have a massive offshore stash somewhere (and don’t rule it out) -- he obviously can’t pay the reparations the judge has ordered.

Which brings to mind a onetime federal judge named Kenesaw Mountain Landis, who would become the first commissioner of baseball after the Black Sox Scandal of 1919. Landis once sentenced an aging burglar to 20 years. The man pleaded, “But Judge, I’m more than 70 years old. I can’t serve that long.”
“Well,” Landis told him, “do the best you can.”

Richard Scrushy needs to do the best he can. To the last nickel.
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