Thanks a Lot, George

While a commissioner, Fedeli denied wrongdoing and was never charged with a crime or violation. Still, subsequent disclosure statements, which Fedeli was tardy in filing, showed that his insurance business earned $2 million from companies that did work for the turnpike.

Fedeli resigned in 1998. Though he left with more than a year remaining on his term, he outlasted earlier calls for departure. He remains active in Republican and Catholic causes. His Gates Mills home recently hosted a party celebrating Voinovich's 40 years of marriage and 40th year in politics. Fedeli owes much to Voinovich. Austin says Fedeli's insurance business benefited greatly when Voinovich instituted managed care for injured workers. "It's a gift," Austin says. "You don't have to go out and look for business as much as it's there for you." (Fedeli did not respond to Scene's request for an interview.)

Fedeli has also kept an eye on the turnpike. According to the inspector general's report, Zomparelli met with two companies wanting to do turnpike business at Fedeli's office in Independence.

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As governor, Voinovich appointed two men to run the Ohio State Fair. Both stepped in shit.

Voinovich's first appointment, used-car salesman Billy Inmon, was a clown. Inmon gave jobs to his pals, awarded contracts (including a whopper to Pepsi) without the governing commission's necessary approval, and tried to ban the Stonewall Union from leasing its usual booth. He was fired after his only state fair, which ended $3.8 million in the red.

Unembarrassed, Inmon would go on to oppose Voinovich in the 1994 governor's race. After being excluded from debates, Inmon staged a hunger strike. He collapsed and was hospitalized after 27 days of living and starving in a tent pitched outside the capitol.

Tabbed by Voinovich to replace Inmon, Richard Frenette was credited with restoring honesty to the state fair. Inmon, using what he called a "secret formula," had said 3.4 million people attended the 1992 expo. It was more like 500,000. Under Frenette, fair attendance figures could be believed again.

But if Frenette was the right man for the job in 1993, he was the wrong man a decade later. Acting on a complaint from the Department of Agriculture, the inspector general (yes, him again) released a report in September that showed a lackadaisical Frenette favoring a female employee, moonlighting as an amusement-business entrepreneur, and failing to address "the proliferation of gift giving over a period of years involving Expo officials."

Many of the tokens of appreciation received by fair folks were small: lunch, fruit baskets, $25 grocery certificates. Frenette said accumulated items were distributed to employees as door prizes at a holiday gathering.

Unprofessional, certainly, but perhaps not reason to alert a prosecutor. However, records showed that the director himself enjoyed finer rewards. The concessionaire Aramark reported that it provided Frenette with $898 worth of tickets to sporting events, including passes to the 2002 Final Four in Atlanta. (Frenette denied receiving all but one pair of baseball tickets from Aramark.)

Seemingly bored, Frenette dabbled in private enterprise. He discussed (but did not commit to) working as a consultant for an amusement company that sought work from the New Jersey Sports and Exposition Authority. He was also the vice president of a small concessions company before selling his stake for $12,000, nearly double the money he had invested three years earlier. Although the company, Worldwide Concession Group, did no business with the state, Frenette neglected to disclose his interest on forms filed with the Ohio Ethics Commission.

Frenette appeared to maintain a cozy relationship with an underling, Kathie Amspaugh, a secretary promoted eventually to the position of non-fair events manager. Wireless phone records showed that Frenette called Amspaugh's residence 250 times over a two-year period. He also lent her his state-paid vehicle when he was away, a courtesy not extended to other fair employees.

In interviews with inspectors, Frenette and Amspaugh could not remember the specific reasons for their frequent calls. "Frenette admitted that because they are friends, sometimes their discussions would turn personal, but only after the business purpose of the calls was concluded," the report said. At any rate, soon after the investigation was initiated, Frenette cut a $400 check for his personal use of Expo phones.

In the annals of government officials gone bad, Frenette's sins were comparatively minor. But if he held any chance of keeping his job after the inspector general delivered his report, it withered when an Expo PR minion released a statement from commissioners that disputed the findings. "Upon initial review, we were very disappointed to find inaccuracies within each allegation and other matters in the report," the release said.

One problem: Commissioners hadn't authorized the release. Frenette had, presumably. After meeting with the commissioners a few days later, he resigned.