The Tax Commissioner Who Couldn't Pick a Boss
J. E. Frost draws a state salary in Olympia while weighing a richer offer from the Northern Pacific — and the legislature is about to rewrite the railroad tax laws he advises on.
In view of the fact that he can probably do more good for the Northern Pacific railway in Olympia just now while he remains on the state payroll, it is unfortunate that J. E. Frost, state tax commissioner, cannot make up his mind whether he will accept the offered employment as tax agent of the Northern Pacific recently tendered him.
Just now, when important matters of legislation are pending, and the members of the legislature naturally go to the different officers to get advice as to what is best for the state, it seems a pity that on matters with respect to changing the laws regarding taxation of railroad property the lawmakers are forced to take the suggestions of a man who soon after the legislature adjourns will probably be openly on the payroll of one of the big roads affected by the bill.
Frost comes from Ellensburg. Some time ago he was offered the place as tax agent for the Hill road at a salary considerably more than is paid by the state for his present work. Frost also stands none too well with the incoming administration, and it is no cinch that he would be allowed to remain on the state payroll even should he decide to do so.
For these reasons the delicacy of Frost's position in advising laws for the benefit of a present employer as against the best interest of his prospective employers is evident.
An unscrupulous man could certainly win high favor of the railroads by giving the proper kind of advice to the lawmakers, and this advice would of course be more likely to be followed if the adviser's connection with the road be unknown.
Frost has the confidence of people all over the state who have known him for years, but his best friends will admit it were better for him to decide soon which master he will serve — the state or the railroads.
“His best friends will admit it were better for him to decide soon which master he will serve — the state or the railroads.”
This is the revolving door in its purest form: the official who writes the railroad's tax bill is negotiating a job with the railroad, and the only safeguard is his own sense of propriety. Washington voters later built ethics and disclosure rules precisely because of scenes like this one in Olympia. The question the Times puts to Frost — which master do you serve? — is still the question asked of every regulator weighing a private offer.
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