Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, May 21, 1990 TAG: 9005210088
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: SUZANNE WOOTON BALTIMORE SUN
DATELINE: KERMIT, W.VA. LENGTH: Medium
They'd come from all over the coalfields of Mingo County and from the dry counties of Kentucky just across the Tug Fork of the Big Sandy River. And when the Preece family ran out of drugs, they'd just hang out a sign that read "Out of Drugs. Back in 20 Minutes."
But all that ended in the summer of 1986 when the feds - infuriated by the public corruption, not to mention the sheer audacity of it all - rolled a green box car down the Norfolk Southern tracks that run through the middle of town and secretly videotaped the hundreds who had come to think of the Preeces' trailer as their one-stop drug shop.
Right away, investigators arrested 60-year-old Wig Preece, the town's chunky fire chief, his wife, Coonie, and six of their kids, including his 18-year-old daughter who was just on her way to buy a red Mercedes for high school graduation.
Then they proceeded 20 miles down the two-lane curvy road to the Mingo County courthouse to figure out how the Preeces had been getting by with it for so many years.
Before it was all over, a team of federal investigators swept through mountainous and isolated Mingo County, methodically convicting more than 75 people - including the School Board chairman, sheriff and the poverty director - on everything from jury tampering to arson.
And, with Pac-man-like tenacity, they followed a trail of political corruption - and coal industry dollars - beyond the Kermit investigation straight up U.S. 119 to Charleston and Governor Arch Moore. Moore later pleaded guilty to five counts of wrongdoing, adding yet another chapter to the state's long history of political corruption.
"The coal money went down to the county courthouse to keep the politicians in line and up 119 to Arch Moore's pocket," said Wally Warden, editor of the Williamson Daily News and a Mingo County historian.
When Moore was indicted last month, he joined a lineup of prominent West Virginia politicians - including another governor 20 years ago and a couple of leading state legislators netted by the recent federal probe. The afternoon Charleston Daily Mail, long a Moore ally, strung their pictures across its front page, branding them the "Hall of Shame."
Moore, the only Republican in the lineup, had been elected governor an unprecedented three times by a predominantly Democratic electorate. He was the most dramatic example that West Virginia voters are lured by larger-than-life politicians who offer them hope.
In this mountainous state, political corruption has at times been stunningly overt, though certainly not unique. Indeed, there are parallels, says U.S. Attorney Michael Carey, who headed the federal investigation, to the renowned political machines in Chicago and New Orleans.
But the three-year federal probe in West Virginia disclosed, in compelling detail, an almost feudal political system that has bred voter complacency largely because it is so inextricably linked to jobs in economy tied to the boom-bust coal industry.
As jobs in the mines vanished, West Virginians became increasingly hooked on political patronage. In the depressed coalfields of Southern West Virginia political bosses replaced coal bosses.
"In Mingo County, the School Board chairman, the sheriff, the poverty director controlled the jobs," Carey said. "When you have that direct effect and control over people's, they tolerate corruption. They feel hopeless and helpless."
And so, in a system where school bus drivers, cooks, janitors and teachers outnumbered even miners, most folks looked the other way.
"You knew not to ask questions," said Sam G. Kapourales, the mayor of Williamson, who operates a legitimate pharmacy in the town of 5,800.
When federal investigators starting asking, though, they found that the School Board chairman got the Preeces of Kermit out of trouble by bribing the jury foreman. And Mingo Sheriff Johnnie Owens literally sold his job for $100,000 when he got tired of it.
And they discovered that Wig Preece, the fire chief, could set fires just about as good as he put 'em out.
When Arch Moore needed to shore up support in Mingo, he paid the local Democratic county chairman $12,000 to ensure that the margin against him in the 7-1 Democratic county wasn't too lopsided on election day.
"It was just a way of life. I blame the system more than anything else," said Kapourales. "For a Republican to get elected in a strong Democratic state, Moore almost had to do what he did."
Moore's fate will be decided July 10 by Judge Hoffman who sentenced Spiro Agnew in 1972 and South Charleston Mayor Mike Roark on cocaine charges last year. He could receive $1.25 million in fines and up to 36 years in prison, though most expect a much lighter sentence.
by CNB