The Real Tom Knox
THE SIZE of the investment isn't the point, of course. But that’s just the sort of thing — a tone deafness to how things appear, to how they play, regardless of whether they’re technically wrong or not — that got Knox into a lot of trouble during his 18 months under Rendell. In fact, the way Knox operates mystified a lot of people who worked with him in city government. He’s also a guy who’s tough to warm up to: “He has the personality of a dead trout,” says Annie Karl, who, as Ed Rendell’s assistant for special projects, got to know Knox well. In fact, she liked Knox — though she’s not supporting him. One of his campaign aides says Knox doesn’t relate to people other than his family. Presumably, the aide likes him too. But Knox made real enemies among the Rendellians.
Buzz Bissinger, whose book A Prayer for the City chronicles the early drama of Rendell and company saving Philadelphia from financial collapse (Knox doesn’t even rate a mention in the book), says Knox was called “The Obnoxian” because he conducted himself with the arrogance of a one-man band, as if he’d been brought in to personally redo city benefit contracts, get better rates for city office space, merge departments — in other words, to save the city from financial collapse. The wise old heads of city politics marveled at his naïveté; the realtors he clashed with over office space called their state legislators and City Council to complain, though Knox didn’t care, because their overcharging was “outrageous.” Eventually Knox had to be told that it was not his job to be the outrageous police.
He blathered prematurely to the press about deals; he had no idea about or taste for the process of politics, which involves, as Rendell has infamously put it, suffering fools gladly and spending a considerable amount of time down on one’s knees before the right people, satiating them with the idea of their own importance. That’s how you get what you want, how you get things done.
Knox rejects this game, which might not be such a bad thing. But the daunting criticism that the Rendellians level — that he’s awful with people, “the most arrogant guy in the administration,” in the chilling words of a senior administrator, with “the absolute worst political skills of any human being I’ve met,” says another insider — that’s damning stuff. They say he had good ideas but was terrible at getting them put in place.
Knox had met Ed Rendell in the late ’80s after Rendell’s first, unsuccessful run for governor. Rendell recruited him and Herb Vederman in ’92 — Knox had contributed about $50,000 to Rendell’s campaign and has given $120,000 to Rendell through the years — as $1-a-year deputy mayors, rich guys who could come in and give their time and expertise. Officially, Knox oversaw the Office of Management and Productivity, looking for ways to save money on real estate leases and insurance and employee benefits, and creating offices of fleet management and energy, among others. Everyone gives Knox credit for his ideas on savings both large and small. (He learned, for example, that various departments bought their own light bulbs, while another one paid for electricity; naturally, the various departments bought cheap, energy-wasting bulbs that cost the other department, not to mention taxpayers, tens of thousands of dollars). However, the Knox and Rendell-insider stories diverge sharply when it comes to just who implemented those ideas.
Buzz Bissinger, whose book A Prayer for the City chronicles the early drama of Rendell and company saving Philadelphia from financial collapse (Knox doesn’t even rate a mention in the book), says Knox was called “The Obnoxian” because he conducted himself with the arrogance of a one-man band, as if he’d been brought in to personally redo city benefit contracts, get better rates for city office space, merge departments — in other words, to save the city from financial collapse. The wise old heads of city politics marveled at his naïveté; the realtors he clashed with over office space called their state legislators and City Council to complain, though Knox didn’t care, because their overcharging was “outrageous.” Eventually Knox had to be told that it was not his job to be the outrageous police.
He blathered prematurely to the press about deals; he had no idea about or taste for the process of politics, which involves, as Rendell has infamously put it, suffering fools gladly and spending a considerable amount of time down on one’s knees before the right people, satiating them with the idea of their own importance. That’s how you get what you want, how you get things done.
Knox rejects this game, which might not be such a bad thing. But the daunting criticism that the Rendellians level — that he’s awful with people, “the most arrogant guy in the administration,” in the chilling words of a senior administrator, with “the absolute worst political skills of any human being I’ve met,” says another insider — that’s damning stuff. They say he had good ideas but was terrible at getting them put in place.
Knox had met Ed Rendell in the late ’80s after Rendell’s first, unsuccessful run for governor. Rendell recruited him and Herb Vederman in ’92 — Knox had contributed about $50,000 to Rendell’s campaign and has given $120,000 to Rendell through the years — as $1-a-year deputy mayors, rich guys who could come in and give their time and expertise. Officially, Knox oversaw the Office of Management and Productivity, looking for ways to save money on real estate leases and insurance and employee benefits, and creating offices of fleet management and energy, among others. Everyone gives Knox credit for his ideas on savings both large and small. (He learned, for example, that various departments bought their own light bulbs, while another one paid for electricity; naturally, the various departments bought cheap, energy-wasting bulbs that cost the other department, not to mention taxpayers, tens of thousands of dollars). However, the Knox and Rendell-insider stories diverge sharply when it comes to just who implemented those ideas.


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Posted by cheryl | Nov. 24, 2009 at 9:00 PM