Linda Tripp Legal Fund Provokes One Reaction: Kick the Can

In times of national crisis, a good citizen must take a stand. So when we heard Friday that Linda Tripp had established a legal defense fund and was soliciting donations by mail, we scrounged up a coffee can, cut a slit in the plastic top and hit the streets on her behalf.

We knew this might not be the easiest task. First, there was the unpleasant spectacle unfolding that day in the U.S. Senate, a spasm of national humiliation for which, one might uncharitably argue, Tripp was responsible. Second, there was the matter of her widely reported $90,000-a-year Pentagon sinecure. Third, what with the weather, the streets were Himalayan.

But we weren’t asking for all that much. Since Linda’s chief fund-raiser sent out 20,000 letters in the hope of raising $80,000, we told passersby that $4 was the “recommended donation.”

Some others: “Are you kidding?” “Don’t make me throw up.” “Not on your life.” “Good luck!” “Please go away.” And: “I should take money out of that can!”

New York City investment banker Mark Hayes and his friend Allison Gleason politely asked why Linda deserved charity.

“Um, because she has tested the Constitution and ah, ah . . .”

”. . . And because she did her duty as a citizen?” Gleason prompted helpfully.

“Yes!” we said. This was looking good. “Also,” we said, “her legal expenses are mounting frightfully!”

“She should have thought of that before she opened up her big, fat mouth,” Gleason said.

Tom Cassidy, 45, from Arlington, Va., said Tripp deserves the trouble she’s in. “I’ll give her no support whatsoever, but I’d like to go on record that I’m glad she’ll be employing lawyers, because we’re good people and we need jobs.”

Computer engineer Greg Day, 43, pleaded poverty. He just gave a dollar to a bum, he said, and only has a few cents left. He does feel some sympathy for Tripp, he said. “She did a public service. A wrong was exposed.”

So how about coughing up some coins, Greg?

“I can’t,” he said. “I need to buy soda and pretzels.”

Sensing our disappointment, he mused, “I could stop at the cash machine and get some bucks. But frankly, I think I’d give it to the bum before I gave it to Linda.”

Linda needs the money, too, we said. She is one of us, and reaching out to us for help.

He surveyed the coins in his hands. Ninety-one cents.

“Now I have 90 cents,” he said, pressing a penny into the slot.

Finally, a small, intense woman listened to our pitch, nodding silently. Linda needs funds, we said, to defend herself against persecution by the moneyed elite who have been threatened by her honesty and public-spiritedness. The woman reached into her purse, extracted a $1 bill and put it in the can.

“Thank you,” we said.

“Por nada,” she replied.

Do you speak English, we asked.

No. Not splendidly.

Her name is Barbara Conch. She is 36, a nursing assistant in Alexandria, Va., who arrived here not long ago from Cuba.

Did she know who Linda Tripp was?

No, not really.

We consulted our conscience. The can felt very, very light. We kept her buck.

Back at the office, we took stock. We put the arm on 40 people. We got $1.01. We mailed Linda her cash.