Colman Genn risked a hard won career as a New York school superintendent to get the goods on an appallingly corrupt school board. He went past his cultural upbringing and risked not only being fired but also physically harmed by the mob-connected school board members.

Genn grew up in the tough Bensonhurst section of Brooklyn, where one of the commandments of the street was, "Thou shalt not snitch." Not a good student, he spent more time cruising the streets than studying; he took the entrance exam for Brooklyn College only because he got an entire day away from school to do it. To his surprise, he was accepted. To his greater surprise, "I fell in love with school. From the day I found college, I loved it."

Genn then put in 31 years as a teacher and a principal in East Harlem schools. He started three alternative public schools there, taking one high school from a 93% drop-out rate to a nearly 100% college admission rate. In addition to educating his own three kids, Genn and his wife put three other deserving kids through college.

Moving up the career ladder, Genn applied for and won the job of Superintendent of School District 27, 82 square miles of racially polarized Queens neighborhoods, a district where schools were mostly black or mostly white—the white schools had smaller classes, more innovative programs, and larger staffs.

Genn was determined to improve education for all kids in the district and reduce racial tensions and disparities, but he soon discovered these were not the priorities of a majority of the elected school board. The most powerful members of the board took Genn aside and told him the facts of life in District 27.

They wanted to make sure Genn understood that they would be the ones to approve his contract every year. If he went along with them, he'd have a long career. And they were to keep total control of hiring and budget for the $6-millon district. They expected him to help them undermine the parent-teacher groups and he had to agree not to hire blacks for any high-visibility positions. Genn was stunned.

He stalled for a while as he searched for an investigatory group with teeth to help him nail the crooked board members. He got to the Joint Commission on Integrity in the Public Schools where investigators asked him to wear a body wire and collect evidence against the scoundrels. They schooled him in how to ask questions and direct conversations to get the best testimony. It was a new world for Genn.

Over eight months' time, Genn taped more than 20 conversations with school board members. He was walking a tightrope—he had to appear to be going along with them without actually doing so. He gave long secret hours to the investigation while also putting in the long hours of his job as superintendent. He was determined that "...our children must not be seen as cash cows."

His chronic asthma worsened. Whenever he wore a wire he stuttered and sweated profusely. Fortunately, the crooks just thought he was desperate to please them. But Genn was actually thinking about what they would do if they found out he was taping them. These guys were said to be "connected."

During Commission hearings in October 1989, the district's parents were shocked to hear on tape the rough tactics and raw language of the men they'd elected to oversee their schools. One of them referred to himself as "the district hiring boss," telling Genn "I'm a political leader. That's why I'm here. I make sure my people get the f---ing jobs."

When Glen brought up education matters, one of them marveled, "I've never once heard the word 'children' or 'education' enter into our discussions in the last few years." One of the board members boasted, "I will co-opt people, I will turn them, I will almost blackmail them...When they fall, they'll be taken over by more people...Let's take the whole store."

The tapes made it clear: merit had no role in determining who got jobs in the Queens district. The Commission chair told reporters. "These guys put Boss Tweed to shame." In his own emotional testimony, Genn explained why he went undercover. "These people make a lie out of everything we work for."

The day after Genn's tapes were played, all the members of School Board 27 were suspended. The innocent ones later regained their seats. The worst of them were indicted on federal charges of extortion and mail fraud and on state charges of coercion and conspiracy. As a result of the investigation, a permanent, independent agency was set up to watchdog the public school system for corruption.

Colman Genn retired early from school administration and headed out on his motorcycle for a tour around the country, planning to teach or work at a center for educational innovation when he got back. No more cloak and dagger. "That's not my life" he says. "My life is about kids. I'm a teacher, not a detective."

Update: Colman got his wish. He worked for 12 years at an educational research foundation, part of that time with police officers protecting him from retribution by the criminals he had nailed. Just before he died in 2004, he helped create a school for the children of immigrants in Israel. He was 68.