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Through e-mails, witness links Veon to Bonusgate

HARRISBURG - As star witness Michael Manzo wound down his testimony for prosecutors in the Bonusgate theft trial of his onetime role model yesterday, a ragged heap of papers grew behind the witness stand.

HARRISBURG - As star witness Michael Manzo wound down his testimony for prosecutors in the Bonusgate theft trial of his onetime role model yesterday, a ragged heap of papers grew behind the witness stand.

They were printouts of old e-mails, discarded page by page, as the pale, black-suited Manzo read them aloud to link former House Minority Whip Mike Veon to state-funded bonuses for campaign work.

Through them and his recollections, Manzo linked Veon and a codefendant, former House aide Brett Cott, repeatedly to political work done by state staffers.

Often, Manzo said, it happened on state time. And under Veon's control, bonuses for the "volunteer" work rose to the $10,000 level, and above for some, he said.

Manzo, 40, the former chief of staff for House Democratic caucus leader Bill DeWeese of Greene County, recalled taking home about $20,000 in bonuses in one year.

Briefly, the weight of two days of testimony - given in a plea deal that cut 42 felony counts to 10 - broke Manzo's composure.

He looked up from his hunch over the printouts and, his voice breaking, told jurors that boosting Veon's power was once his main professional motivation.

"He was just somebody that I idolized in this business," Manzo said, tilting his head and speaking, for once, with hesitation. "It's why we all wanted to get back the majority, so that someone like Mike could be running the state."

Now, Manzo has a central role in the case state prosecutor Patrick Blessington is building against Veon, 53, for alleged theft and misuse of state funds.

Yesterday, Manzo testified that he came into politics in 1994 as "just a door-knocker . . . a grunt," but developed an appreciation as he rose in the Democratic hierarchy for the acumen of Veon, a 22-year legislator from Beaver County.

His testimony centered on 2004-06, when, he said, he was working directly with Veon to orchestrate Democratic caucus activity to win legislative seats.

When Sean Ramaley - a now-former Democratic representative who won acquittal on Bonusgate charges Dec. 11 - ran for a key House seat from Beaver County in 2004, Veon dispatched a staffer to help the campaign, Manzo said.

Veon also added Ramaley to the caucus payroll, at half a legislator's salary, to make up for lost income from Ramaley's law practice, Manzo said. When other races were targeted, staffers were directed there, sometimes using what Manzo called the "incumbent protection operation" of resources from the House Office of Member Services.

And when state Democratic leaders in fall 2004 tried - successfully, it turned out - to knock Ralph Nader off the presidential ballot to help John Kerry's effort, Veon directed staff to go through nomination petitions for signatures to challenge, Manzo said.

"He said he had boxes going out to Beaver Falls," Manzo quoted from an e-mail, "and his [district office] folks would be taking care of a lot of it."

Throughout the testimony, Veon appeared impassive, and Manzo rarely glanced toward Veon's side of the courtroom.

In breaks from proceedings, neither Manzo nor Veon was willing to discuss current employment, though Veon allowed that his relates to consulting.

The former representative lost a reelection bid in 2006 amid rancor over a legislative pay raise. For years, Veon blew off steam in extended weekly basketball games, but that too has been denied him, by knee troubles.

Exercise - and a vent for the frustrations of legal troubles - comes on a home rowing machine these days, Veon said during a break, downstairs from the Dauphin County courtroom where a former admirer was betraying him.

"Life," he said, "is strenuous."

Cross-examination of Manzo is to begin this morning. Veon defense attorney Dan Raynak declined to say what he would focus on in his questioning, but he spoke unsparingly about prosecutors' display of a cavalcade of Manzo's old e-mails on a projection screen so jurors could read along.

"When you watch a lot of slides, it gets very boring," Raynak said.