A job for Superman
One late April morning, Clark Kent Ervin sat in a packed congressional hearing room and calmly let fly. The head of the Transportation Security Administration (TSA), Adm. David Stone, had been praising a pilot program that allowed airports to use private security screeners under federal supervision instead of screeners actually employed by the federal government. The private screeners, reported Stone, had performed just as well. But Ervin, the inspector general for the Department of Homeland Security, saw things differently. The two groups, he said, had only one thing in common--they performed "equally poorly."
Ervin isn't one to pause when it comes to dishing out bad news. It's his job to investigate the problems--and achievements--of the DHS, the hydra-headed agency President Bush stitched together in response to the 9/11 attacks. In his 15 months on the job, Ervin, 45, has given Congress hundreds of recommendations on how to improve the DHS. Over the coming weeks, he'll release potentially troubling new studies on undercover tests of U.S. airport baggage screeners, DHS visa processing in Saudi Arabia, and the Federal Air Marshal program. Given Ervin's political pedigree--he's a Houston Republican with close ties to the Bush family--the findings could be uncomfortable, but Ervin doesn't seem bothered in the least. "I hope the president is reelected," he says, "but it does not matter to me what the political consequences are of the work we do." As the country struggles to protect itself in the face of continued terrorist threats, Ervin's blinders must be on tighter than ever.
So far, insiders say, he hasn't pulled any punches. Ervin has said the TSA's oversight of screener hiring practices was "inadequate," and he concluded that there is "no process for identifying or keeping track of lost or stolen passports." He has also cited "weaknesses" in the targeting of high-risk cargo. Lawmakers like Rep. John Mica, chairman of the House aviation subcommittee, use Ervin's reports as ammunition because they "really hit home." And the DHS knows it. The investigations "get public and internal attention . . . and spur action," says one agency official. That's what happened last summer when Ervin confirmed reports that some questions on TSA's screener tests were less than challenging. "What is the role of a detonator in an explosion?" read one query. The correct answer? "Creates a small explosion that detonates the main explosive charge." Helped by Ervin's urging, the agency changed the tests.
Thank-you notes. In Ervin's job, tensions are inevitable, but he softens his blows and maintains relationships with an almost mythic reputation for politeness. As general counsel to then Texas Attorney General John Cornyn in the late 1990s, Ervin was tasked with telling state legislators of legal decisions that hadn't gone their way. But he always did it "in a very gentlemanly, calm fashion, in a way that did not unnecessarily ruffle feathers," says Cornyn, now a U.S. senator. Ervin's handwritten thank-you notes for dinner invitations, Cornyn says, "almost show up the next day, as if he hand-delivered them."
Ervin has been surprising people all of his life. Born a month premature, he struggled in the hospital but showed a tremendous "desire to survive and overcome odds," says Art, one of Ervin's two brothers, who was 11 at the time. It was Art--a huge Superman fan--who suggested that his baby brother be named after the superhero's alter ego, Clark Kent. Today, Ervin loves the moniker and signs it with a flourish. "Of course," he chuckles, "my parents would have drawn the line at Batman."
Overachiever. Growing up the third son of a bricklayer in Houston's poor, historically black Third Ward, Ervin was pushed by two elementary school teachers to apply to the city's elite Kinkaid School, George W. Bush's alma mater; he became the first African-American male ever to attend the school. When Ervin started as a seventh grader there in 1971, most classmates were accepting. But one boy called Ervin a n - - - - - every day until they graduated more than five years later. "Clark never once broke," recalls his friend Allison Marich. An accomplished classical pianist and a political junkie, Ervin became one of the nation's top high school debaters. "He could talk a dog off a meat truck," laughs one of his teammates, Douglas Bacon. Ervin, a conservative, still does some debating--his wife, Carolyn Harris, an educational consultant, is a liberal Democrat. Ervin attended Harvard University for college and law school, separated by stint as a Rhodes scholar at Oxford University. But he's not just a wonk. "Edgy" classical music concerts, featuring Shostakovich and Bartok, provide some diversion, as do occasional jaunts to salsa clubs.
Even though Ervin and the current President Bush both attended Kinkaid, their relationship didn't begin until 1988, when a Bush friend told him about "a wonderful young man" named Ervin. So when Ervin sent his resume to Washington, seeking a job somewhere in the administration of President George Herbert Walker Bush, the new president's son attached a laudatory note. Ervin's resume landed on the desk of Gregg Petersmeyer, head of the president's Office of National Service, which fostered volunteer efforts around the country. A quick interview later, Ervin was hired as Petersmeyer's second-in-command. After two years there, he came back to Texas, worked for law firms, and made two unsuccessful runs at elected office--once for a state house seat and once for a seat in the House of Representatives. Then Ervin joined the younger Bush's gubernatorial administration, first as assistant secretary of state and later as Cornyn's general counsel. Ervin returned to Washington in 2001 as the State Department's inspector general.
And he was happy there. But when Colin Powell personally asked him to take on the role of inspector general at the DHS, Ervin knew he couldn't say no. It's far from an easy job--with an $82 million budget, Ervin oversees the sprawling DHS and its 22 formerly independent federal departments. Their half-dozen offices of inspectors general were rolled into his. Ervin has 413 employees but says he could use four times as many.
Even so, not everyone's a fan. The Senate didn't confirm Ervin, as required of presidential nominees, because of an undisclosed issue with his record at the State Department. Neither Ervin nor any senators will comment on the matter. Instead, Bush formally installed him with a recess appointment in December 2003, which means his term runs out at the end of this congressional session. And that's just fine with some. "He is protective of the administration and doing the bare minimum," gripes one congressional staffer who claims that Ervin stonewalled on requests for data on DHS problems, blew off immigration recommendations from the Justice Department, and isn't paying enough attention to budget problems in certain parts of the agency. Others refer to Ervin as a headline hound. Still, one DHS official says that while Ervin doesn't "miss many opportunities for glory, there is no evidence of whitewashing. He's pretty bare-knuckled." In a polite way, of course.
Born: April 1, 1959
Family: Wife, Carolyn Harris, educational consultant. No children.
Education: B.A., Harvard College, 1980; master's, Oxford University, 1982; J.D., Harvard, 1985.
Public service: 1989-91, White House Office of National Service; 2001-03, inspector general, State Department; 2003-present, inspector general, Department of Homeland Security.
This story appears in the June 28, 2004 print edition of U.S. News & World Report.