home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1995
/
TIME Almanac 1995.iso
/
time
/
071293
/
0712200.000
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1994-03-25
|
6KB
|
124 lines
<text id=93TT0140>
<title>
July 12, 1993: Singing the Blue Cross Blues
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
July 12, 1993 Reno:The Real Thing
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
BUSINESS, Page 48
Singing the Blue Cross Blues
</hdr>
<body>
<p>The shocking tale of mismanagement and mischief at New York's
huge health insurer is far from unique
</p>
<p>By RICHARD BEHAR
</p>
<p> If his former customers ever get a chance to confront him,
Albert Cardone may need plenty of health insurance. Before his
ouster in May as chairman of New York's Empire Blue Cross and
Blue Shield, he took home $600,000 a year in his chauffeur-driven
Lincoln Town Car. The salary and transportation were paid for
by the nation's largest nonprofit health insurer at a time when
it was trying to stave off insolvency by drastically raising
the premiums of the elderly, the poor and the chronically sick.
But, as Cardone once asked a New York Times reporter, is it
``fair" for a man of his stature to take a train to work every
day?
</p>
<p> Then there were the helicopter trips, the accounts at Tiffany
and Cartier for Empire employees and directors, the fleet of
123 cars, the $130,000 in art and sculpture, the $62,832 in
tacky silk plants, the $48,000 in computer and security systems
in Cardone's home and so on. As part of an aborted redesign
of his office, the imperious Cardone bought a $20,000 Chippendale
desk, which was placed in storage and never used.
</p>
<p> In testimony last week before the U.S. Senate's Permanent Subcommittee
on Investigations, Cardone defended his management of Empire,
which has racked up $255 million in losses since 1990. Pressed
by committee chairman Sam Nunn, Cardone denounced accusations
of corruption and mismanagement as "absolutely untrue." He got
little support, however, from Harold Vogt, Empire's current
chairman, and Donald Morchower, the chief executive. They used
to work closely with Cardone, but now seemed anxious to distance
themselves. Vogt and Morchower, who admitted that Empire has
had management problems, have agreed to step down when replacements
can be found.
</p>
<p> Empire's leaders had no convincing response to the damning testimony
of their chief auditor, Maroa Velez. She told of being "stonewalled"
by superiors when she tried to investigate discrepancies between
internal books and the financial reports Empire sent to regulators.
The company allegedly overstated losses incurred in providing
insurance to poor customers. Those exaggerated losses helped
persuade the state legislature to force Empire's competitors
to take over some of its least profitable business. Despite
Cardone's denials, Manhattan's district attorney has launched
a criminal probe to determine whether the tough ex-Marine or
his aides falsified records or committed perjury.
</p>
<p> What makes the Empire story so sad is how familiar it is. Some
$70 billion flows annually through the U.S. system of 70 not-for-profit
Blue Cross and Blue Shield companies, which control more than
30% of the private health-insurance market. While the majority
of the "Blues" are financially sound, others, like Empire, have
been walloped by spiraling health costs and "cherry picking"--the loss of the best customers to for-profit rivals. Gross
mismanagement and lax oversight in many states have raised urgent
questions: Can the Blues still carry out their mission as insurers
of last resort? Are they too big and powerful to be regulated
properly? Should the executives of these nonprofits enjoy the
same perks as their brethren at FORTUNE 500 companies?
</p>
<p> In 1989 New Hampshire regulators had to intervene when the state's
Blue Cross and Blue Shield exhausted its cash reserves. West
Virginia's Blue ran out of money three years ago, leaving 51,000
individuals with unpaid claims. Investigators discovered that
among other unethical management practices, executives had funneled
Blue Cross money to businesses in which they had a financial
interest.
</p>
<p> Maryland's Blue Cross plan suffered a drop in net worth from
$122 million in 1985 to $25 million by the end of 1992. The
recently departed boss, Carl Sardegna, was given compensation
of $775,000, twice the average for the Blues. In return the
plan's policyholders received abysmal service marred by delays
and lost claims. U.S. Senate investigators accused Sardegna
and colleagues of overstating the company's net worth, keeping
its directors in the dark and printing deceptive advertising
about its fiscal health.
</p>
<p> Throwing money around came easily to Blue Cross of Washington,
D.C. From 1985 to 1992, the plan's aptly named chief, Joseph
Gamble, spawned roughly 40 subsidiaries, from a global travel
and lost-baggage service to a Blue Cross of Jamaica. Total net
losses: $182 million. Gamble enjoyed frequent Concorde flights
to Europe and $900-a-night suites in Barbados.
</p>
<p> Fortunately, all this rotten publicity and turmoil have chastened
the Blues. Many have become stronger by merging with other companies.
Last year 17 of the plans were in very bad shape, according
to Weiss Research, an insurance rating firm. Today Weiss says
only 11 are hurting, yet those plans serve 16 million Americans.
Meanwhile the Blue Cross and Blue Shield trade group boasts
that net income for the 70 plans was $736 million in the first
quarter of 1993, up from $349 million last year.
</p>
<p> The problem is that such figures are furnished by the companies.
Naturally, if the numbers are fudged, as they allegedly were
in New York and Maryland, then all tallies are suspect. And,
as Senator Nunn put it last week, "If this nation is ever to
truly reform its health-care system, we must find a way to hold
insurers accountable to their subscribers, to regulators and
to the public at large."
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>