Diogenes on the Trail

Across the plains of Nebraska last week skimmed a little airplane labeled "Operation Honesty." Its passenger was Nebraska's Republican Governor Robert Crosby, and his pockets were bulging with lapel buttons and pledge cards also marked "Operation Honesty." Before the week was out, he had flown 1,284 miles to make nine speeches, and had collapsed with indigestion and fatigue. Bob Crosby was working on a fatiguing assignment: to collect taxes without adequate enforcement machinery.

Governor Crosby's tax problems began on Jan. 9, 1953, the day after he took office. That day the Nebraska Supreme Court ruled that property must be assessed uniformly throughout the state, at market value. For 32 years Nebraska law had said precisely that, but officials in some counties had assessed real estate at as low as 14% of value. The highest county valuation standard was 70%.

Wink & Guffaw. Since the court ruling would cause a fantastic increase in tax valuations, the legislature changed the law to call for assessment at 50% of actual value. Then the state board of equalization, Governor Robert Crosby, chairman, set out to equalize the assessments from county to county. This meant that almost every real-estate owner in Nebraska was hit with an increase in taxes. In Crosby's home town, North Platte, town-lot tax valuations more than tripled. Although the State Supreme Court had forced the action, most of the public ire was directed at one man: Governor Crosby.

To improve both his own position and that of the stricken real-estate owner, Crosby decided to seek better results from the state's personal-property tax. If Nebraskans had winked at the real-estate tax, they had guffawed at the personal-property tax. Few reported all personal property for assessment, as required by the law. In Omaha, a violinist in the symphony orchestra reported no violin, a furrier no furs, a camera dealer no camera, a jeweler no jewelry, the manager of a television station no TV set. Not much could be done about it, because personal-property tax laws are almost impossible to enforce. Farmers in two western Nebraska counties reported 61,863 head of livestock, but no hay or grain. Said Crosby: "The livestock would have starved in a few days."

In the face of this situation, Crosby launched Operation Honesty. Its aim: to persuade citizens to file full, honest reports of all personal property. If all did so, real-estate taxes could be cut 25%.

Hostility & Warmth. Since Nov. 20, the 42-year-old governor has traveled 9,000 miles, made 79 hour-long speeches, distributed 30,000 buttons and pledge cards in the cause of Operation Honesty. Every piece of mail that has gone out from the Statehouse has bravely carried the label. When some of Crosby's political opponents dug up the fact that his own taxable personal-property return for 1952 amounted to $605, his friends pointed out that in his county the average return was only $145, and only $11.68 in the county with the poorest record. Crosby, admitting his share of the general laxness, quipped: "In 1952 I was a candidate for Governor. They should have looked at my returns from three or four years ago."

Almost everywhere that Crosby went, he was greeted with hostility that slowly turned into warmth. Everybody admitted that he meant well. After hearing his speech, the State Certified Public Accountants Association presented him with an electric lantern and a sign reading: "A modern Diogenes in search of an honest man." But this week, as the personal-property returns were beginning to come in, no one--not even the modern Diogenes--thought that many of them could be 100% honest.

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