MOORLACH UPDATE — 25th Anniversary Reflections — December 5, 2019

OC Bankruptcy Reflections and Lessons

The 25th anniversary of the filing of Chapter 9 bankruptcy protection by the County of Orange is tomorrow, December 6th.  First, it is amazing how quickly the time has flown by. Second, it’s been an interesting historical exercise to reflect on 1994 through look backs in my UPDATEs, providing sequential events leading up to this point.

It is a mixed bag when you try to warn people about an impending disaster if they do not change course.  Half of you wants to say, “I told you so.” The other half says, “Wait a minute, it’s my property and hard work, translated into the payment of taxes, that you just damaged.”

It is important to appreciate and understand what happened in Orange County, as financial decisions by elected officials continue to have long-term reverberations that could impact us, our children and grandchildren in the near future.  R Street and the OC Register provide their reflections in the two pieces below.

25th Anniversary Look Back

After the December 1st press conference by the County of Orange concerning the Orange County Investment Pool, my life converted to nonstop media inquiries (see MOORLACH UPDATE — Life Changing Press Release — December 2, 2019).

Here are clippings from December 3rd: MOORLACH UPDATES — OC Register — December 3, 2009, December 4th: MOORLACH UPDATE — Mainero — December 4, 2009, and December 5th: MOORLACH UPDATE — LOOK BACKS — December 5, 2009

On December 5th, I faxed the following letter to the County’s Executive Officer:  

Dear Mr. Schneider:

When I ran for Treasurer-Tax Collector this year I was confident that my business background and financial expertise, as a Certified Public Accountant and Certified Financial Planner, would enable me to be an effective leader and conservative manager of the taxpayers’ funds.  I fully understood the dynamics of the high risk investment strategy being employed in regard to the Orange County Investment Pool and I am on record for voicing my strong concerns in this matter. Unfortunately, my worst fears of a potential calamity may be materializing.

During my campaign, I developed and was prepared to rapidly implement a comprehensive rehabilitation plan for the Pool.  Therefore, I believe I would be very competent to sit on the proposed oversight committee of the Pool and would be the most prepared local citizen to serve as the Chairman.  I will provide a plan, and believe that its implementation will be a model for other municipalities in similar situations to follow.

I would like to be involved in the formation of the criteria for selection of members of the committee to insure that there is fair representation for all investors, regardless of investment size, including “voluntary” and “statutory” participants in the Pool.  The committee should have the right to independently retain professional legal and financial advisors, who preferably are from the local community. Concerns of potential conflicts of interest have already been raised regarding the retention by the County of the law firm of Le Boeuf, Lamb, Leiby & MacRae, since one or more of their professionals were political contributors to Mr. Citron’s campaign.

I am making myself available to assist in these urgent matters immediately.  You can reach me at 754-1040.

Very truly yours,

John M. W. Moorlach

Anatomy of a Government Bankruptcy


Steven Greenhut

Resident Senior Fellow and Western Region Director, State Affairs

When Orange County went belly up in 1994, the stories seemed to write themselves. One of the nation’s richest counties couldn’t pay its bills. Quirky Treasurer Bob Citron was the only Democrat elected to countywide office, yet Republican officials hailed him as a financial wizard as his Vegas-style investments raked in incredible returns. The county political establishment circled the wagons around him and took potshots at the messengers giving them sober news.

Citron, who died at age 87 in 2013, was indeed a colorful figure. Shortly after the bankruptcy, the Orange County Register described him as a man who “lived up to the penny-pinching stereotype of a treasurer–tax-collector” — known for his “well-worn suits, the calculator wristwatch to divvy up restaurant bills, the publicized spat with the county years back when he claimed he had been shortchanged $12 in a paycheck.”

That tightwad image, however, contrasted with his wild investment portfolio, which eventually collapsed like a house of cards — leading him to plead guilty to six felony counts related to falsifying information. Citron was never accused of personally benefiting from these dealings, but he was fined $100,000 and sentenced to a year in prison. He served his time at the jail commissary in a work-release program and quietly lived out his days in his modest Santa Ana home.

Citron had no degree or investment experience. He didn’t invest in stocks himself. (His defense even filed psychological reports claiming that he only had seventh-grade math skills and might be borderline brain-damaged.) Yet after a stint in the county’s tax bureaucracy, he won election as tax collector. The county merged that office with the treasurer to save on administrative costs, leaving billions of dollars in the hands of someone who had scant experience and who reportedly consulted with a mail-order astrologer for interest-rate advice. That all looks rather crazy in hindsight.

“Citron had a view — totally accurate — that interest rates were going down and that bonds were therefore going up,” explained Carol Loomis in a 2012 Fortune article. He leveraged the investment pool to buy bonds, and doubled down even after the Federal Reserve started raising rates. “By early December, the Fed had turned the screws five more times,” she added. “Wall Street’s brokers, who had provided Citron with most of his loans, were demanding additional collateral that he couldn’t supply. So some brokers sold their collateral, others mobilized to do so, and Citron’s whole jerrybuilt contraption tumbled.” The county lost $1.6 billion.

Citron blamed Merrill Lynch for luring him into the investments. The investment firm blamed Citron — but ultimately paid $400 million to settle the county’s $2 billion lawsuit. Citron gambled and lost with public dollars because he believed that he had figured out a clever way to satiate governments’ quest for something he presumably would not offer in his personal life: a free lunch.

In 2017, the county paid the last of its bankruptcy-related bond debt — the end result of a deal that officials hammered out after frustrated voters soundly rejected a half-cent sales tax (Measure R, in 1995) to pay for their politicians’ idiocy. In 1994, this was the largest municipal bankruptcy in U.S. history, but others have surpassed it since. But as the 25th anniversary of the bankruptcy arrives on Friday, lessons remain unlearned.

Why did no one see this coming? Citron’s financial reports made reference to the strategy and, as the Los Angeles Times reported, warned investors of its risky nature. The answer is obvious. Government agencies wanted the extra cash and were willing to turn a blind eye as long as the money was flowing.

A handful of Orange County experts proved the exception. John Moorlach, now a Republican state senator from Costa Mesa, was a private accountant who ran against Citron for the treasurer’s office. He sounded the alarms but was dubbed “Chicken Little.” Moorlach was met with outright hostility from local elected officials, including fiscally conservative Republicans, who didn’t want him to endanger Citron’s unbelievable return rates.

After bankruptcy, Moorlach was appointed treasurer, won another term, and then won terms as a county supervisor before heading to Sacramento. He remains one of the few lawmakers with actual math skills. His 2013 recollection sums up the problem aptly: “Our bankruptcy was a colossal accumulation of unnecessary errors and irresponsible actions done independently by a significant number of individuals from various financial and public sector disciplines, both inside and outside of county government, all of whom should have known better.”

Since then, Moorlach has been waving red flags about another approaching financial calamity. It involves California’s unfunded pension liabilities, brought on by politicians and pension funds more interested in boosting public-employee compensation than protecting the public’s assets. Officials should know better, but have been reacting to Moorlach’s warnings the same way they did in 1994. Some critics even have reprised the Chicken Little epithet.

Despite record stock-market earnings, the behemoth California Public Employees’ Retirement System (CalPERS) is funded at a wobbly 70 percent. Depending on whose data one uses, the unfunded liabilities to pay for pension and medical care for current and retired California public employees ranges from a couple hundred billion dollars to more than $1 trillion. One need only look at Transparent California to grasp the size of the compensation packages — check out the number of police sergeants receiving more than $350,000 a year — that led to the problem.

We’ve seen two California cities — Stockton and Vallejo — go bankrupt in large part because of those compensation packages. Others have teetered on the brink, and still others have mentioned the b-word as CalPERS hikes contribution rates. As Ed Mendel reports in his invaluable Calpensions blog, “A new CalPERS report shows average local government police and firefighter pension costs have reached 50 percent of pay — a level former CalPERS chief actuary Ron Seeling warned a decade ago would be in his view ‘unsustainable.’”

Governments are slow learners. Only five years after OC’s bankruptcy, the state Legislature passed a law (SB 400) that granted 50-percent retroactive pension increases to the California Highway Patrol, thus starting a wave of similar giveaways across the state. Its backers said it wouldn’t cost taxpayers a dime thanks to continued stock-market income gains, but we know how that played out.

Likewise, Orange County supervisors this year approved large pay hikes for deputy sheriffs — something that will add $151 million to its budget. County officials didn’t bother to evaluate the impact of the deal on pension costs, which will soar as a result of the higher pay. Some California cities, even in Orange County, are floating pension-obligation bonds, which allow them to take out new debt to pay their pension debt. Essentially, localities are betting that their investment returns will continually outpace the bonds’ interest rates. Let’s hope they’re better at this than Citron was.

The bankruptcy anniversary is reminiscent of the quotation from Upton Sinclair when he was running for California governor in 1934: “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.” When it comes to pension debt and other liabilities, California lawmakers really don’t want to know. It will be interesting to see whom they blame when the stock market goes south and takes public pensions with them.


Has OC learned key bankruptcy lessons?

When Orange County declared bankruptcy 25 years ago on Dec. 6, 1994, the move unnerved financial markets across the country. And for good reason.

This affluent bastion of conservatism was, at the time, the largest municipality in the United States to ever file Chapter 9.

It was embarrassing — and almost unfathomable that nobody had noticed the warning signs.

Maybe not nobody. Sen. John Moorlach, R-Costa Mesa, was a private accountant who was being prodded by some GOP leaders into running against Democratic treasurer Bob Citron. Moorlach initially resisted, but then looked at the county’s financial statements and was shocked by what he saw. He ran a campaign warning of potential fiscal calamity, but lost the race by a wide margin. He was proven correct about the county’s shaky finances and the rest, as they say, is history.

Citron, who was elected tax collector before the county merged the office with the treasurer, was personally frugal, but lacked investment experience and savvy. Grand jury testimony suggested he even consulted an astrologist on financial matters. Citron’s “exotic” investment scheme created incredible returns for a while, which convinced a lot of officials not to look too closely.

The investments were based on heavily leveraging the county’s investment pool to buy bonds — lots of them — and essentially wagering “on the difference between the short-term interest he paid on the cash loans, and the longterm interest he earned on the bonds,” as a 2013 Register obituary explained.

Like so many gambles, it eventually collapsed — in this case after the Fed started boosting interest rates. Citron pleaded guilty to charges related to falsifying the books and faded from view.

“He was like the sun god,” Moorlach told us. No one said anything — not the rating agencies, bond holders or elected officials. Moorlach tried, but was accused of being a partisan hack. What advice does he offer on the anniversary? “Be careful about underestimating the marketplace and overestimating how smart we are.”

We’d add this one: Government should live within its means rather than gambling with public money to cover up its overspending.

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