[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 154 (2008), Part 6]
[Senate]
[Pages 7607-7608]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                          TRIBUTE TO CON HOGAN

  Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, Marcelle and I have a good friend in 
Vermont named Cornelius Hogan, although everyone knows him as Con 
Hogan.
  In our State, we have been fortunate to have people, of both 
political parties, who have given a great deal of themselves to serve 
the people of Vermont, and Con is an excellent example of that.
  Recently, the newspaper the Times Argus published an excellent 
profile of him. I called Con and Jeanette to say how much I enjoyed it. 
I would like to share the piece with my fellow Senators, and ask 
unanimous consent that it be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

 A Life Well Served; Plainfield's Con Hogan Remininsces About Time in 
                          Government, Business

                            (By Susan Allen)

       Plainfield.--Every Thursday a 4 p.m., the late Gov. Richard 
     Snelling would invite some of his cabinet members to his 
     office and put a bottle of Wild Turkey bourbon and glasses on 
     his desk.
       ``You could talk about anything you wanted,'' recalled Con 
     Hogan last week, seated at the kitchen table in his 
     Plainfield home, with an expansive view that includes the ski 
     slopes of Sugarbush and Mad River Glen.
       That was a new one for me. I thought I'd heard most of the 
     behind-the-scenes stories from past--and present--
     administrations. I've been in the Vermont press that long, 
     and collect interesting and odd-ball recollections like some 
     people collect stamps. I'm fascinated by the people who 
     devote their lives to serving the state.
       But Hogan's reminiscences during our conversation proved 
     how many good stories I've missed.
       Hogan is retired from his extensive tenure in state 
     government and we started talking about how busy he is during 
     his so-called retirement (more on that later), but quickly 
     began trading accounts of political personalities. Most of 
     his tales were gathered during his professional journey from 
     serving as a guard in a prison in Annandale, N.J., to heading 
     Vermont's massive Human Services Agency under Snelling and 
     former Gov. Howard Dean.
       That journey included two significant side trips: An 11-
     year stint in the private sector helping International Coins 
     and Currency slog its way out of bankruptcy in the 1980s, and 
     an ``ill-thought,'' unsuccessful run for governor as an 
     independent against incumbent Jim Douglas and Democrat 
     Douglas Racine in 2002.
       ``That was a period of temporary insanity,'' he said of the 
     gubernatorial race, which almost certainly burned some 
     bridges with the GOP hierarchy. ``I don't regret it, but I 
     don't consider it a high point.''
       Hogan received a degree in psychology from Rutgers, married 
     wife Jeanette in 1965, and took a job as a prison guard in 
     Annandale, rising quickly through the ranks to eventually 
     serve as a division head with the New Jersey Department of 
     Corrections, focusing on the budget.
       ``I loved it,'' he recalled of those 7 years. ``The people 
     who work in that line are under such professional pressure 
     that you become fast friends, the closest friends.''
       Hogan and his wife regularly visited a good friend in 
     Vermont who lived on an apple farm in Bennington, and in 1972 
     at age 28, he applied for the job of corrections commissioner 
     in this State. He chuckles at his own audacity, and the 
     outcome.

[[Page 7608]]

       Then-Secretary of Administration Richard Mallary (who went 
     on to serve in the U.S. House for Vermont) wrote Hogan a two-
     page, handwritten letter thanking him for his interest, 
     letting him know the job was already filled, but urging him 
     to contact the new commissioner to talk about becoming his 
     deputy.
       Hogan is amazed at the thought of Mallary writing such a 
     long, personal note. But back in 1972, he did apply for 
     deputy commissioner post and got the job.
       Those were tumultuous years in corrections, he said. Then-
     Gov. Thomas Salmon, trying to control a huge state deficit, 
     issued a 10 percent cut in all budgets, to be executed in 60 
     days--a staggering assignment, Hogan knew.
       And the Windsor prison, which had opened in 1808 during the 
     U.S. presidential administration of Thomas Jefferson, was 
     closed in the early 1970s, leaving the State without a 
     maximum security prison for a number of years.
       With Snelling's first election in 1976, Hogan moved into 
     the post of commissioner of Social and Rehabilitative 
     Services, again during a difficult time. The Weeks School for 
     juvenile offenders closed, forcing the State to redistribute 
     the 400 youth to smaller group facilities around the State.
       Hogan recalled that all but 15 were placed at one point. 
     Those 15, he said, were sent to stay with a Vermont couple 
     who--without the State's knowledge--packed them all into a 
     Winnebago and headed off to see the country.
       ``The dad called me from New Orleans,'' Hogan said. ``I 
     said, `What are you doing in New Orleans?' ''
       Four of the young Vermonters had run off, and the state 
     scrambled to fix the mess. Fortunately the story ended well 
     for everyone and never (until now) became public, Hogan said 
     with a grin.
       After his 11-year foray with ICC in the 1980s, Hogan once 
     again received a call from Snelling, who was considering a 
     run for governor and wanted Hogan to head his transition team 
     if elected. Snelling was elected and appointed Hogan his 
     secretary of Human Services in 1991.
       ``During the transition, I was working from 6 a.m. to 
     midnight, staying in the office--sometimes I slept over,'' he 
     said. During a meeting one day, Hogan was called out because 
     Jeanette was outside with fresh clothes for her husband. ``I 
     need to explain to my wife why I'm spending more time with 
     you than her,'' Hogan told Snelling, who didn't like meetings 
     interrupted.
       ``He lit up. `Let's go meet your wife,' '' Hogan recalled. 
     Jeanette had just been to the dentist and had a front tooth 
     removed, flashing a smile that showed a gaping hole. Hogan 
     said Snelling never missed a beat and made a ``big show'' of 
     graciousness to his wife.
       Hogan recalled Snelling's impatience with long 
     presentations. So, as Human Services Secretary, Hogan created 
     a game where he took a deck of cards, and on each wrote a 
     one-line synopsis of a proposed program, the cost, and the 
     supporters and opponents. Fifty-two suggestions.
       Snelling loved it; he'd flip through the cards quickly and 
     make two piles: Yes and No. And Hogan knew how to proceed.
       ``He was at the top of his game,'' said Hogan of Snelling 
     during that second trip to the governor's office. His 
     recollections of his former boss are nostalgic and reflect 
     his respect and deep admiration for the late governor.
       Snelling died in office on Aug. 13, 1991. During his brief 
     second tenure as governor, he worked with Democratic House 
     Speaker Ralph Wright to craft a plan to retire an enormous 
     state deficit, another point of pride for Hogan.
       The day after Snelling's death, new Gov. Howard Dean called 
     Hogan into his office for a briefing on the Human Services 
     Agency.
       ``I was in no shape to go,'' Hogan recalled. Not only was 
     he mourning Snelling's passing, he didn't know Dean or what 
     to expect from the former lieutenant governor.
       Hogan arrived with a list of 50 issues to discuss, and 
     spent an hour running through them all. ``Dean didn't say a 
     word, he just listened. He was either getting it . . . or not 
     getting it and he did,'' Hogan recalled.
       The two worked well together for 8 years until Hogan left 
     the administration in November 1999. ``There's a half-life to 
     that kind of job,'' he said of Human Services secretary. 
     After making progress on many social issues, ``I had begun to 
     see some of the same problems again.''
       Then came the ill-fated gubernatorial run.
       Followed by retirement--or Hogan's version of retirement: 
     He travels the world working with countries that include 
     Australia, Israel, Chile, Norway, Northern Ireland, Scotland, 
     and in May, Holland, to improve their government structure 
     and programs for children.
       He has also become involved in informal lobbying efforts 
     for universal health care (the number of uninsured Vermonters 
     has climbed from 42,000 in 2001 to 69,000 today, he noted; he 
     predicts the increase will continue without serious action). 
     He considers high health care costs a ``serious economic 
     threat'' to the State.
       He serves on the board of Vermont College in Montpelier, 
     which is seeking certification and funding. Hogan also 
     continues to play the banjo with his band, Cold Country 
     Bluegrass (Jeanette plays the string bass).
       And he helps Jeannette around the family horse farm, which 
     she started but is now run by their daughter, Ruth.
       That's Con Hogan's idea of retirement.
       His son lives next door with Hogan's two grandchildren, and 
     Ruth lives around the corner. And in the end, that is his 
     life's ambition achieved.
       ``Having my family close enough to enjoy their successes, 
     and watch the kids grow up,'' he said. ``Nothing comes close. 
     This to me is what it's all about.''

                          ____________________