He has become the whipping boy for the Belmont Learning Complex, the symbolic effigy to be flogged every time something goes awry with the most ambitious school building project undertaken by the Los Angeles schools.
But Dominic L. Shambra, the man most closely identified with the construction of Los Angeles Unified's newest high school, says he's had enough. He wants you to know he isn't the only one responsible for decisions that have sparked recent cries from here to Sacramento for a criminal probe.
"It wasn't like I was left on my own to do whatever the hell I wanted to do," said Shambra, 60, who retired as development guru for the nearly 700,000-student school system last February.
"They gave me that position, created that position for me to do exactly what I did," Shambra said, referring to school board members, the superintendent and other top officials. "They were always informed, they were always invited to participate. In some ways, they never participated because they wanted to protect [themselves]."
Is Dom Shambra being hung out to dry?
That question has emerged in recent weeks, as controversy once again erupted over Belmont. The Times disclosed that the district may have to pay millions of dollars extra to find and fix ground contamination because top officials failed to act on a 1994 memo that warned they had bought the 24-acre parcel without adequate environmental testing.
The land--which includes an abandoned oil field--has a number of potential chemical hazards, including such carcinogens as benzene; seepage of potentially explosive methane; and unknown oil products floating on shallow ground water. Construction will probably be delayed for testing and remediation.
The revelation started a firestorm, prompting calls for a criminal probe and promises by state lawmakers to hold investigatory hearings next month. The district fired its outside counsel on the project and school officials were quick to point the finger at Shambra. A spokesman characterized the actions of Shambra and his consultants as "autonomous" and "independent."
"Who's responsible?" said General Counsel Richard K. Mason, who received the 1994 memo, as did other top officials. "I think Dom Shambra was responsible for the successful consummation of the Belmont project."
But Shambra is now pointing the finger back. The former planning director said he conferred so often with Mason on all aspects of the Belmont project that he considered the district's top attorney to be his "unannounced supervisor."
"There wasn't one thing that I didn't do that Mason wasn't involved with. Ever. Ever," he said. "He approved everything I did."
On Friday, Mason agreed that he "wasn't in Siberia while this was happening," that Belmont was reviewed many times by different people, including an oversight committee. Yet he continued to maintain that the "primary administrative responsibility" for what happened at Belmont was invested in the former planning director and his team of consultants.
"We trusted his team and we put our faith in his team."
Despite the latest uproar, Shambra says he believes the environmental risks at the site have been overstated and maintains that the project is a sound one.
Shambra played a central role as point man and heavy with the Belmont project.
It was a familiar one for a onetime playground director and elementary schoolteacher who rose through the ranks, in part, because of his willingness to butt heads with controversy.
Shambra was a consummate insider, one who developed deep connections during his 37 years at L.A. Unified. His first boss as playground supervisor was Bill Anton--destined to become a superintendent. Anton was married at Shambra's San Gabriel home and Shambra served as best man.
And it was from within the system, Shambra said, that he learned the tactics that he would use at Belmont.
"We've always operated on the philosophy that you put the train on the track and you just keep it going," he said. "You don't allow it to be pulled off on spurs."
The approach served him well when he was tapped during the early 1980s for the unpopular task of shuttering nearly two dozen schools in the San Fernando Valley because of declining enrollment. He held public hearings brimming with angry parents.
"I was the guy they screamed at," Shambra said.
Over time, however, Shambra evolved from an apologist to a scourge of district bureaucrats, whom he considers obstructionists and slow-moving. At 6-feet-1, 240 pounds, with thick wrists and a face born for a scowl, he is a self-described "gruff old Sicilian."
"I was Ivan the Terrible with the bureaucrats to get them to do things," said Shambra, who can curse up a storm. "They'd say I was a bully. Yeah, I was. But they were wimps."
