In 1987, a Connecticut man who was denied a job as a school custodian appealed to the state's human rights agency. He claimed the test for the job discriminated against him and other Hispanics.
For four years, he waited for an answer. He would likely still be waiting today, but for a 20-minute meeting in March.
At that session, the investigator from the Commission on Human Rights and Opportunities told Louis Martin, the agency's new executive director, that she believed the complaint had merit. Martin asked a few pointed questions and agreed. The investigator is now working with the job applicant and the school system to settle the case.
In just this way, Martin, who arrived in January, has blitzed through hundreds of backlogged cases, as he tries to revitalize an agency that had developed a reputation for sluggish performance.
It is still too early to know how much success Martin and the commission's new chairwoman, Leslie J. Brett, will have in carrying out reforms set in motion by the legislature and then-Gov. William A. O'Neill.
But many observers point to positive signs: speedier handling of cases; new standards that have resulted in hearings for more people claiming discrimination; improved staff morale; and a higher profile for the agency.
The Connecticut Commission on Human Rights and Opportunities, founded in 1943, is the oldest civil rights agency in the country. For decades it had a reputation as a leader, but in recent years it was criticized for lax enforcement.
A 1988 Courant investigation found that the agency was using a more conservative standard for discrimination than the law allowed, and only 1 percent of complaints were receiving a hearing. There was also a huge backlog of cases.
Legislators began the reform effort in 1989, directing quicker handling of cases and clarifying the standard used to determine discrimination.
In June 1990, the longtime executive director of the agency, Arthur Green, abruptly announced his retirement, but not before arranging for his allies on the commission to replace him with his
assistant. O'Neill was outraged, seeing it as an affront to the reform effort.
At O'Neill's request, the commission rescinded the appointment. The assistant, Jurate Vaitkus, would serve as acting director and the full-time position would be advertised.
A month later O'Neill named Brett, a well-known civil rights advocate, and four other new commissioners to the nine-member board.
From such volatile beginnings, Brett has fashioned a stable, effective commission that selected Martin as executive director and functions well with both new and old staff members.
"She feels like an organizational therapist," said one staff member.
Among the most striking changes at the agency is an upswing in morale.
Lawyers and others who work with the commission say staff members are far more open and cooperative now.
Lawrence Berliner, an attorney for the state Office of Protection and Advocacy for Persons with Disabilities, said he feels the agency is finally working with him, rather than against him, when he represents disabled people with complaints.
Jane Glover, deputy chairwoman of the commission and a member of it for three years, said she had felt stifled under previous leadership and had been led to rubber-stamp decisions.
Today, she said, the commission is in "a light period. It's like a renaissance."
One of the first tasks Martin assigned himself was to visit the agency's four field offices and talk privately with more than 100 staff members, from clerks to supervisors.
Several said they couldn't remember Green's ever sitting down and talking with them. Even when they had to talk to him about a case, they often couldn't get through.
Some investigators say they were so shocked by Martin's willingness to work with them on backlogged cases that they were almost suspicious of it. They feared that what they said might be held against them in some way, but they were pleasantly surprised.
Although Green, who died earlier this year, had habitually sat at the head of the table at commission meetings, Martin sits at the foot. Commissioners had addressed each other as Mr. and Mrs.; now first names are more the practice.
Born in Pittsburgh and raised in ghettos there and in Los Angeles, Martin grew up poor, overweight and with a stutter. But the streetwise kid was determined to go to college and have a career.
He graduated from Southern Illinois University, earned a law degree from the University of Iowa and then worked in private practice until a friend from law school doing state human rights work in Iowa offered him a job in 1979. He started as a hearing officer and left as acting executive director, moving on to the Maryland Commission on Human Relations, where he was deputy director.
When he wants to impress staff with the idea that "all things are possible," he mentions a personal achievement: He lost 270 pounds in five years. His weight had been 450 pounds. He did it during the 1970s through frequent exercise and dieting. Now a trim 180 pounds, he drinks Diet Coke throughout the day, but hasn't found time to exercise in Connecticut yet.
The most pressing challenge Martin faced when he arrived in
Connecticut was the huge backlog of cases -- 550 -- filed before January 1990.
Under the 1989 reform legislation, cases filed after January 1990 had to be resolved within nine months. Cases filed before that date had to be resolved by July 1, 1992.
The well-intentioned legislation had created a situation in which investigators were so busy meeting the deadline demands for the newer cases that the older ones continued to sit -- a frustration to those who had filed complaints as long as 10 years before.
Martin was hired to do exactly what he had done in Maryland, where he had reduced the backlog of discrimination cases from 3,700 to 1,300 in about six months.
The technique Martin has used here is what he learned there: listening and then making a decision with the investigator to move toward dismissal, settlement, a hearing or further investigation.
Martin sped through 350 cases this way, and plans to use volunteer lawyers -- whom he has trained as mediators -- to oversee the remaining 200 cases.
Once the backlog is eliminated -- the target deadline is Oct. 1, months before the legal deadline -- Martin hopes to find a way to continue using the volunteer legal help.
Meanwhile, Martin has plans to speed the handling of cases through what he calls "front-end loading" -- collecting more information earlier. The process will help commission staff identify 30 percent to 50 percent of all new complaints as losing cases within 60 days of filing, Martin said, while also giving investigators a head start on cases with merit.
With faster handling of cases and the 1989 statute making it more likely that discrimination complaints will get a hearing, Martin said, it is likely that a new backlog will develop at the hearing stage.
Already, he said, about 10 percent of the cases are scheduled for hearing, compared with 1 percent several years ago.
Martin hopes to replace costly hearings with mediation when possible, by starting a team of staff experts who will travel around the state and take cases where settlements seem possible.
By streamlining the processing of individual cases -- which now absorbs 80 percent to 90 percent of staff time -- Martin and Brett hope to create more time to address the broader issue of systemic discrimination as it comes up in housing and zoning issues, school desegregation and affirmative action.
To that end, Martin and Brett say they expect the commission will be filing its own complaints of discrimination. They also wants to focus more attention on state contracts to ensure that enough minorities and women are hired.
With new legislation protecting the rights of disabled people and homosexuals, they also expect the commission to spend more time on those areas.
Public education is another goal. So far, Martin has given dozens of speeches to lawyers, civic groups and others. He is also considering becoming the host of a cable television show on civil rights.
The commission has increased the frequency of its meetings from every other month to monthly, and is allowing time at each session for the public to speak.
The commission has also already demonstrated greater
aggressiveness in speaking out and taking action on civil rights concerns.
Frustrated with state affirmative action plans that were technically correct but ineffective, the commission took the unusual step earlier this year of sending staff out to the problem agencies to monitor recruitment and hiring practices.
When Gov. Lowell P. Weicker Jr. announced plans for state worker layoffs this spring, the new commission raised questions about whether they would disproportionately affect minorities and women. (A study conducted by the commission showed no overall problem, but identified certain agencies where those groups would be harder-hit than white men.)
The agency's shift from case-by-case civil rights work toward systemic issues and public involvement will make it more effective, Brett believes.
"Individual cases don't change society," she said. "We really want to change society. I believe that is our mission."