Randy Evans is executive director of the Iowa Freedom of Information Council, a nonpartisan, nonprofit organization that promotes openness and transparency in Iowa’s state and local governments. He can be reached at DMRevans2810@gmail.com. 

One of the frustrations of being a former newspaper editor is no longer having a few dozen reporters to pursue answers to questions going unasked and unanswered each day.

Two of my go-to questions were “why?” and “why not?” And my favorite open-ended query to a newsmaker was “explain this to me.”

I never believed newsmakers owed me answers to the questions I or my reporters asked. I was curious by nature. But the most important purpose, I sometimes reminded reluctant newsmakers, was the thirst for information John Q. Public and Jane A. Citizen had about the topics at hand.

All of this is a preamble to help you understand why I am a frustrated consumer of news and information now that I no longer lead a team of information gatherers.

Here are some examples of this frustration in real life:

Members of the Iowa Board of Regents have been discussing the state universities’ finances in light of student enrollment trends, rising costs, and uncertainty over federal research grants and student loans. Why in these times of belt-tightening across local, state and federal governments does the University of Iowa need to hire an executive director to lead a new Office of Writing and Communication? 

The university is not short on leaders. Besides President Barbara Wilson, the university hierarchy already includes ten vice presidents or their equivalents, sixteen deans and equivalents, and about 25 department executive officers and directors. That is a lot of administrative horsepower.

Kevin Kregel, the university’s executive vice president, gave the Cedar Rapids Gazette this explanation for the new office: “Writing and communication are at the core of what we do and who we are. This new office reflects our commitment to investing in excellence, fostering collaboration, and advancing innovative programming that prepares our students for success.”

It remains to be seen whether all this collaboration fostering will raise the hackles of our governor and lawmakers the way mention of diversity, equity, or inclusion does. But isn’t administrative bloat a bigger issue in the long-term health of a state university and in the price of tuition? 

Can’t the president simply tell her executive vice president to direct the other administrators under him to coordinate their various writing programs? In these tough times, can the university afford to have another administrator whose sole duty is to get this coordination and cooperation?

Here is another topic I would have my answer-gatherers digging into:

Since it was occupied in 1800, the White House has been home to every president except George Washington. The president’s house contains about 55,000 square feet of space. It includes two principal locations for official functions, the East Room and State Dining Room.

Those rooms can accommodate about 150 and 120 guests, respectively, for sit-down dinners. The spaces can host larger crowds for informal receptions.

Why then does the federal government need a 90,000-square-foot ballroom adjoining the White House? Yes, it would have a capacity of 650 guests for a sit-down soiree. But remember my earlier comment about shrinking of the size of the federal government.

Architect’s rendering of the new proposed ballroom

Architect’s rendering of the White House addition

Every president back to John Adams in the 1790s managed to carry out their official social obligations without a ballroom nearly twice as large as the White House itself. If the State Dining Room and East Room are inadequate for an event, why doesn’t the president use other grand venues in Washington with more elbow room for diners—such as Constitution Hall, Kennedy Center lobby, National Portrait Gallery, or National Archives rotunda?

It is not as if the meet-and-greet and meet-and-eat obligations of the White House’s residents are not already being met. Since Ronald Reagan’s time, presidents have averaged about six state dinners per year. 

The ballroom is projected to cost about $200 million. Although President Donald Trump has promised that donors will bear the cost, there are more questions that deserve answers.

Such as, can people count on this assurance about donors more than we believed his promise that Mexico would pay for the border wall? Might the president turn to tax money to finish the ballroom before his term ends in January 2029 if donations are slow coming in? 

Should people be worried what promises the president might make to donors in return for their ballroom contributions—perhaps his support for certain legislation or regulatory changes, a government contract the donor desires, or maybe a pardon for a donor’s friend or relative? Or might an invitation to an event in the new ballroom be a way to get a fat campaign donation?

On another subject, I live in Polk County along at least 510,000 other souls. Our county government is led by an elected five-member board of supervisors. Each supervisor is paid $149,290 annually. The supervisors are considered full-time county employees. But the job is not so full time that supervisors are personally directing county affairs. They employ a county administrator who is paid $285,000 a year and a deputy county administrator who receives $154,000.

It is not as if these five supervisors and two administrators—more than $1 million in supervisory eyeballs—are doing all managing and supervising in county government. Voters also elect a county attorney, auditor, treasurer, recorder and sheriff to manage those county functions.

The job of county supervisor is not so time-consuming that they cannot have other pursuits. Consider Supervisor Mark Holm. He also works for the Iowa Department of Transportation as a right-of-way appraisal and acquisition supervisor—at an annual salary of $120,036. This means he is being paid almost $250,000 for his two supervisory jobs.

Among the questions county officials should answer for constituents: Why does the county need five elected supervisors who are paid a combined $746,450 annually? What is the justification for these fat paychecks when members of the Des Moines City Council are paid only $35,000 per year? Are county supervisors doing that much more than members of the Des Moines school board, whose salaries are zero?

Please explain all of this like I am slow to learn.

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Illustrations of the proposed White House ballroom expansion were created by McCrery Architects and first published on the official White House website.