By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
If a labor official's duty, first and foremost, is simply to bring home the bacon, then the deal cut by health workers leader Dennis Rivera in Albany last month with Governor Pataki and legislative leaders more than passes the test. In a recession year in which major state cuts in Medicaidthe funding that so many of his hospital employers depend uponwere expected, Rivera snagged a 13 percent raise for his members, paid for by state funds.
"And we did it without a strike, without the loss of time or pay," said Rivera in a victory message to members, adding: "What did we give up? Not one single thing."
But Rivera and his union, the old Local 1199 now known as 1199/SEIU, have always been measured by a different yardstick than other unions. The leadership acknowledged that labor lives in a joint-stock world in which civil rights are often more crucial than pension rights, and that the union was best served by fighting for those progressive changes that affected society as a whole. That approach caused Martin Luther King Jr. to call 1199 his "favorite union."
To win his latest contracts, however, Rivera had to keep those old-fashioned sentiments firmly under wraps. And if 1199's members gave up nothing in their new contracts, the rest of the state's low-income residents gave up a great deal.
In crafting their massive package of state aid to health care institutions, Rivera and Pataki grabbed more than $1 billion that was intended for a foundation capable of finally addressing many of the state's fundamental health care inequities. The foundation was to have been funded by the proceeds from the conversion of the state's largest insurer, Empire Blue Cross Blue Shield, into a for-profit corporation. Founded in 1934 as the original insurer of last resort for the chronically ill, Empire had long benefited from tax breaks, favorable hospital rates, and occasional massive cash bailouts from the state. Hemmed in by new competitors and prevented from raising money in the capital markets, Empire announced in 1996 that it wanted the state to release it from its nonprofit status. In exchange for state and legislative approvals, Empire offered to place the entire earnings from its initial stock offeringvalued at $1.1 billion by financial analystsinto a new nonprofit foundation.
The same route has already been taken by insurers in a dozen states, including North Carolina, Kentucky, and Maine, where the legal principle was upheld that decades of taxpayer assistance for the insurers had created what state attorneys general referred to as a "charitable asset." In California, a new $3 billion foundation created after the conversion of a Blue Cross entity is now plowing millions of dollars into new clinics and health programs.
While many health advocates worried about the loss of a nonprofit insurer, there was widespread agreement that new regulations and for-profit HMOs made the move all but inevitable. "The work of a for-profit insurer and a not-for-profit have become indistinguishable," said Alexander Grannis, the liberal Manhattan Democrat who chairs the assembly insurance committee. "The mission was gone for Empire."
Health advocates from across the state assembled to examine how the money generated by Empire's conversion could be used. In 1997, more than 130 organizations, ranging from United Cerebral Palsy to ACT UP, signed a statement of principles to guide the transfer of assets to a charitable foundation. They called for an independent board of directors representative of communities and consumers, accountable to the public, and dedicated to expanding health care coverage to the uninsured and the creation of new programs for the state's neediest residents.
"I was really excited," said Susan Dooha, director of health policy for Gay Men's Health Crisis, who helped coordinate the effort. "We would have some serious money that would generate a lot of attention on how to solve New York's seemingly unsolvable problem of the uninsured. I thought we had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a difference."
Not everyone agreed. 1199 and the Greater New York Hospital Association, which represents the major downstate voluntary hospitals in labor contracts with the union, opposed the conversion, on what they described as basic philosophical grounds.
A for-profit insurer "would be more concerned with the price of their stock than their ability to deliver services," GNYHA president Kenneth Raske told the press. Rivera dismissed the proposed foundation, which had by now won legal approvals from Attorney General Eliot Spitzer, as merely "a smoke screen and a sweetener" on Empire's part. Rivera and Raske floated their own proposal to take over Empire and run it, an idea that was rejected by Empire's board. At that point, the estimate of how much Empire's conversion would generate was about $300 million. But in 2000, a new study found that a fiscally improved Empire would now generate at least $1 billion if converted. Rivera and Raske's attitudes underwent a marked change.
With their backing, the Republican chairman of the state senate's insurance committee introduced a new bill that would split the Empire proceeds between two separate foundations, one for statewide health needs and another to help hospitals purchase new computer systems. "It is with a heavy heart that we came to this decision," said Raske.