More tales of bad actors
Recent allegations expose a culture of harassment among lawmakers.
The warnings start as whispers echoing through the marbled hallways at the Colorado Capitol. Watch out for this lawmaker. Don’t be alone with that lawmaker. Avoid these other lawmakers when they drink.
The cautionary tales — passed from lobbyist to lawmaker, lawmaker to staffer, staffer to aide — remained hushed in a place where power and fear create a culture that often tolerates sexual harassment and questionable behavior with few repercussions.
The quiet ended this month. Three female lawmakers came forward individually with allegations of unwanted sexual advances from male colleagues, and separately three female former aides and interns are accusing three male lawmakers of acting inappropriately.
The behind-the-scenes portrait of the atmosphere at the Capitol — described in interviews with more than 75 current and former lawmakers, lobbyists, staffers and legislative aides — puts Colorado in the same conversation with more than a dozen other states and Congress, which have been shaken by reports of sexual harassment and settlement payments.
The recent allegations in Colorado expose what some believe is a pervasive problem made worse by lackluster oversight and protections.
“There are a lot of happy hours, a lot of social events, a lot of people that don’t take a no for an answer,” said Gena Ozols, political director for NARAL Pro Choice Colorado.
The extent of the problem with workplace harassment at the Capitol remains unknown — a troubling realization, according to lawmakers and experts.
House and Senate leaders and the legislature’s attorneys would not disclose how many formal complaints have been filed in
recent years — because the process is confidential — and it’s not clear the General Assembly even tracks them.
Moreover, the policy calls for lawmakers and legislative staffers to police themselves. Some complaints are handled outside the official process because the issue appears minor or the accuser declines to press the case.
The Denver Post attempted to survey the legislative leaders for the past decade, but most did not respond or declined to comment. The ones who did said they recall receiving few complaints, if any.
Complaints multiply
The #Metoo movement is beginning to change the dynamic and encouraging Colorado lawmakers and people who work in the Capitol to tell their stories about harassment.
State Rep. Faith Winter, Dwestminster, went public Nov. 10 to describe how Rep. Steve Lebsock allegedly harassed her at a legislative party in May 2016 and tried to grab her elbow and get her to leave with him.
Two other women, one a former lobbyist and the other a former legislative aide, later told The Post about alleged incidents in which Lebsock, respectively, asked for sex and undid a button on a blouse.
Winter and the lobbyist, Holly Tarry, filed formal complaints against Lebsock, a Thornton Democrat and a candidate for state treasurer. He called the allegations against him false, though he said he was drinking the night of the encounter with Winter and doesn’t know what he told her.
A former intern told a public radio station last week that Sen. Randy Baumgardner, R-hot Sulphur Springs, made suggestive comments and pressured her to drink with him in his office. Another unnamed intern told KUNC radio that Sen. Jack Tate, R-centennial, leered at her, made unwelcome comments and suggested he could help her career. The two men denied doing anything wrong.
A former policy aide came forward last week to share details about an informal complaint alleging that Rep. Paul Rosenthal used his legislative office to try to arrange a date with her brother and suggested he could help him with his career.
Rosenthal, who is gay, also is the subject of a new complaint about an incident in 2012 when he was a House candidate. He allegedly groped a man and tried to kiss him at a political event. Rosenthal called the allegations unsubstantiated and false.
In recent social media posts and interviews, two other female lawmakers shared details about harassment they endured as part of their jobs.
Rep. Daneya Esgar, D-pueblo, told a hometown newspaper that someone she works with wrapped a hand around her thigh and began moving toward her buttocks at a recent event that included lawmakers. She did not name the person but told the Pueblo Pulp the man said: “Now, darling, you don’t need to make a scene.”
In a new disclosure, Rep. Susan Lontine told The Post that a current Republican lawmaker touched her inappropriately at the Capitol during her first legislative session in 2015. The same Republican state senator, whom she declined to name, made lewd sexual remarks to her just months ago, she said.
“I will say that, in the past, I’ve just put up with it,” the Denver Democrat said. “I’ve just laughed it off, ‘You’re so funny,’ when comments are made. I’ve decided I’m not going to put up with it anymore.”
Other lawmakers and lobbyists said they feel safe at the statehouse and have not experienced any issues.
“I think the attitude toward women has been respectful. I haven’t encountered any problems at the Capitol,” said state Rep. Polly Lawrence, a Republican from Douglas County.
“A different culture”
Colorado is one of at least 16 states facing troubling reports of sexual harassment or assault in the political arena.
California’s legislature paid $100,000 to a former staffer who claimed she was fired for reporting that an assemblyman exposed himself to her. In Texas, women contributed anonymously to a spreadsheet dubbed the “Burn Book of Bad Men” that listed accusations about pay discrimination, creepy behavior and sexual assault. In South Dakota, a lobbyist reported being followed to her hotel room by a man who works in the state Capitol and repeatedly raped.
Some legislators have faced consequences: The Kentucky House speaker resigned his leadership position this month after he and three other lawmakers faced allegations of sexual harassment, and legislators have resigned this year from elected office in Ohio and South Dakota.
The problems in Colorado do not appear mitigated by the high proportion of women in the legislature. The state is No. 4 in the nation, with women constituting 38 percent of the General Assembly, according to the Denver-based bipartisan National Conference of State Legislatures.
Sen. Kerry Donovan, D-vail, said the Colorado Capitol “seems to have a different culture than I have ever experienced in my professional career before.”
“I get some level of comment (from men) nearly every day I’m in the Capitol,” she added, recalling being called “eye candy” by a male lawmaker as she presented a bill in committee.
In numerous conversations with The Post, lobbyists, lawmakers and aides described the Capitol’s “permissive” atmosphere. Others noted that some female lobbyists used their sexuality to get lawmakers’ attention.
Not all wanted to put their names to the claims but collectively confirmed that men and women were warned about which lawmakers to avoid.
Tarry, the lobbyist who filed a complaint against Lebsock, said she left her career because of the corrosive climate in Colorado politics.
“I was raising money and giving campaign checks to people I didn’t fully approve of their character,” she said, “and that over time got to me and affected my happiness.”
Enough protections?
As with other women, one reason Lontine said she didn’t report the harassment she experienced from a fellow lawmaker is the policy for reporting complaints.
Lontine said she was uncomfortable that a complaint about the behavior of a male Republican senator would go to the male Republican Senate president for investigation. “It just seems that it’s ripe for taking advantage politically,” she said.
A number of men and women who experienced harassment expressed concern about the possible consequences of coming forward.
“I’m not aware of any sort of really effective recourse one could take in situations like this without damaging their own reputation,” said one legislative aide, who spoke on condition of anonymity, fearing for her job. “Our career trajectories often depend on these elected officials, and even if I had a personal encounter with this behavior, I don’t feel confident that caucus staff would take serious action unless it was a particularly egregious situation.”
The General Assembly created its own harassment policy that applies to lawmakers and legislative staff who are exempt from the state’s personnel laws. The policy requires that lawmakers make complaints to the House or Senate leadership, and staff take their grievances to individual legislative directors.
If it’s a formal complaint, top lawmakers and department directors are then required to conduct a confidential investigation or retain help from the Employers Council, an outside human resources firm.
The bar to substantiate complaints is high. A single incident may not constitute harassment, and each is judged on an individual basis, the policy states.
Even if a complaint is corroborated, the policy allows wide discretion about disciplinary action. For legislative staff members found responsible, it can range from an apology to termination. The policy does not outline potential punishments for lawmakers — who ultimately are accountable to their constituents once every two to four years.
“It is difficult when you deal with a situation where you have elected officials because … you can’t fire a state legislator,” said former House Speaker Dickey Lee Hullinghorst, D-boulder.
Donald Mayer, a professor of business ethics and legal studies at the University of Denver’s Daniels College of Business, said the policy appears to trend closely to federal law.
In reviewing the legislature’s policy at the request of The Post, he said it looked “reasonable” and followed corporate practice for a thorough, yet confidential, review. “As this policy notes, there have been false complaints,” he said. “But on the other hand, oftentimes there are misunderstandings and there’s a great amount of subjectivity as this policy indicates.”
State Rep. Lois Landgraf, Rfountain, is not satisfied by the current rules. She called for the state attorney general’s office to conduct an outside investigation of the Lebsock allegations and legislative policies — a move supported by a House GOP leader.
House Speaker Crisanta Duran, a Denver Democrat, and Senate President Kevin Grantham, a Canon City Republican, acknowledged in separate statements last week that the current policies to protect against harassment are deficient, particularly in how complaints are investigated and tracked.
Duran, who is facing questions for how she handled Lesock’s allegations, said she supports using an independent body to investigate complaints — which is an option in the current policy. Grantham called for a study committee but stopped short of endorsing outside investigations, which some other states employ.
One area where the two leaders agree is the need for more training. Colorado offers training on workplace harassment and ethics rules once every two years and attendance is required by policy — but not law, as in a few other states. The legislative leaders want to make the training annual starting in 2018.
The scientific research remains divided on the value of sexual harassment training, said Mayer at the University of Denver, suggesting that it sometimes doesn’t work as intended.
“Prevention through training is the key,” he added, “but the question becomes: What kind of training, and is it effective?”
Coming forward
More than concerns about the policy and punishment, longtime lawmakers and lobbyists agree the biggest reason the inappropriate behavior persists is the difficulty in getting people to make a public complaint.
The obstacles are real. Lawmakers, lobbyists and aides fear that speaking out will hurt their careers, spur retribution or make the issue worse.
“What makes it difficult for women in these positions, especially lobbyists, is being worried about holding someone accountable,” said Rep. Brittany Pettersen, D-lakewood. For lobbyists, she continued, “you’re ultimately (paid) based on trying to get people’s votes, so it creates an even more difficult scenario.”
Dafna Michaelson Jenet knows how hard it is to come forward with a story of sexual assault.
The Commerce City Democratic lawmaker said she was dateraped at age 14 and kept it private for decades. Now she encourages others to tell their stories in hopes they can move on.
“It allows others to free themselves from shame,” she said. “Because I was ashamed — I was devastatingly ashamed — and I didn’t tell my story for a long time.”
Laura Richards, who organized a #Metoo rally outside the Capitol this month, said the conversation “has to stay in the open.”
“It can’t go back in the shadows anymore,” she said. “Otherwise, in 10 years, we will just have more sad #Metoo stories.”