By Erin Sherbert
By Erin Sherbert
By Leif Haven
By Erin Sherbert
By Chris Roberts
By Kate Conger
By Brian Rinker
By Rachel Swan
In the noisy campaign for the San Francisco/Marin seat in the California Senate, the San Francisco Bay Guardian and political opponent Angela Alioto have painted John Burton has a veritable robber baron.
Or as Guardian writer Ron Curran put it in his Feb. 14 article, "Political Fortune," "Assemblymember John Burton personifies the potential conflicts among a politician's public service career, private business dealings, personal friendships, financial portfolio, and campaign contributions."
Key on the word "potential." Nowhere in the ensuing 1,000-plus-word piece does he produce any evidence that Burton has blurred the line between his legislative duties and his private investments, despite the following unsubstantiated charge from Alioto: "John Burton has abused his constituents' confidence in him to make a fortune," she told the Guardian. "Not only has he hustled a huge amount of campaign contributions, he's used his position in Sacramento to buy stock and make other business deals to personally benefit financially."
It's entirely possible that Burton is dirty. He's a machine pol, isn't he? But nobody -- not Alioto, not the Guardian, not the Republican Party -- has unearthed anything on the grand-pre terrible of liberal San Francisco.
A review of Burton's tax records (1990-1994) and statements of economic interest, made available by the candidate to SF Weekly, failed to uncover anything more damning than this: John Burton is a millionaire, perhaps a multimillionaire. And sometimes he makes money in his investments and sometimes he loses money.
Burton's best year came in 1994, when most everyone was taking a beating on the stock market. On that year's tax return, he posted a whopping $125,000 profit from securities investments. The profit came through a limited partnership that invests in securities called MDNH Partners, in which Burton made an initial investment in 1992. Still, this considerable profit was offset by an $80,000 loss from the same partnership in the same year, indicating that both bulls and bears run through his investment portfolio.
The graying lion of Democratic politics volunteered his returns, plopping hundreds of pages down on the table at a cheesy SOMA coffee shop in hopes of muting the overheated rhetoric of Alioto and the couched accusations of the Guardian.
"Here they are," Burton said. "Do whatever you want with them."
Burton's holdings include investments in securities, biotech, oil and gas and geothermal properties, computers, software, telecommunications, health-care companies, real estate, and bonds, both private and public.
His wealth is located in several places: his law corporation, the firm's pension fund, his private investment portfolio, his property holdings -- a house, a joint tenancy and a deed of trust in San Francisco, and a condominium in Sacramento -- and a modest Individual Retirement Account (IRA).
Using a conservative model, his 1994 tax return shows that Burton is worth $1.6 million. But he could be worth millions more -- this estimate is incomplete for several reasons. It is based in part on Burton's statements of economic interest, which all officeholders must file with the city and the state. But officials are only required to make the vaguest estimates of the worth of their holdings on the statements. For instance, they are only required to list ranges -- $1,000 to $10,000; $10,000 to $100,000; and more than $100,000 -- when calculating the value of their investments and holdings.
Also, his tax returns only show investments that are producing dividends or interest, and his statements of economic interest list many more investments that don't show up on his returns. Which most likely means: The stocks and bonds that aren't producing annual income for Burton are most likely plowing back profits into growth, the way that, say, Microsoft Inc. does.
Burton's losses are more visible on his tax returns. Between 1990 and 1994 he lost $282,000 on two types of holdings: the 712 Vermont St. home where his mother and several tenants live, and the 10 to 20 limited partnerships in which he maintains minor interests.
Additionally, Burton took a drubbing in his 1,000-share investment in a Las Vegas Tennis Club, which he paid $25,000 for in 1989 and sold in 1994 for a measly $5,000.
But don't feel bad for the cussy old coot: His checking account always balances far into the black thanks to his lucrative law corporation and his political salary from the state of California.
In 1994 -- Burton has not filed for 1995 yet -- he reported $65,000 in income from his law practice -- John L. Burton Law Corp. -- and $46,520 from his Assembly salary. After calculating losses and profits, Burton's total income was $106,000 in 1994.
Much of Burton's wealth is tied up in a pension fund he runs through his law corporation. Again, it's hard to estimate its total worth because Burton's statements of economic interest only provide vague estimates of the fund's investments. But a conservative estimate puts his pension fund share at $300,000. That estimate could be off by several hundred thousand, and his stake could be more than $1 million.
Likewise, the value of Burton's IRA is hard to determine. Using a similarly conservative model, Burton's IRA could be worth somewhere in the neighborhood of $15,000.
The biggest chunk of Burton's wealth, however, remains his investment partnerships, bonds, common stock, and personal loans he has made to individuals: $700,000 is locked up there.