He’s the talker, not the talk

For years, scandal after decadent scandal washed up on the well-raked beaches of this slender isle, drawing attention to places like the Kennedy compound and the bedrooms of the Pulitzers, and providing the writers of television dramas like “Melrose Place” and “Dynasty” an authenticity to strive for.

Now comes another piece of titillating driftwood, dragging with it themes of drugs, power, racism and money. The figure at the center of the scandal is the country’s most popular radio host, Rush Limbaugh, a man who became a hero to millions of listeners by demanding morality and integrity from the political and media elite.

Limbaugh, 52, has been accused by a former housekeeper of his Palm Beach estate, Wilma Cline, of illegally buying thousands of prescription painkillers from her over a four-year period. He has not been charged with any crime, and a spokesman for his employer, Premiere Radio Networks, said that Limbaugh would not respond to press inquiries about the case.

Cline, who worked for Limbaugh from 1998 to 2002, went to Palm Beach County prosecutors, who confirmed that they have given her immunity in the case. She then sold her story to the National Enquirer. But even before the tabloid hit the stands this week, Limbaugh was having a tough time.

Racially tinged comments about Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb that he made on ESPN provoked such ire that Limbaugh resigned Oct. 1 as a football analyst after only five Sunday appearances on the sports cable network. But while these twin scandals have drawn national attention, they seem to have made little impression on Palm Beach locals, who admittedly have a higher than normal threshold for infamy.

“A good insider stock scandal is something that Palm Beachers like to hang on to,” said Shannon Donnelly, society editor for Palm Beach Daily News. “But this is nothing.”

Here, in a charity-ball society where many houses still post a sign over side or back doors for “Service,” Limbaugh is well-loved. What’s more, many agree with his statements about McNabb. Still others doubt the veracity of Cline’s accusations.

“I really love Rush Limbaugh, and I think none of the liberal stations can compete with him so somebody is trying to destroy him,” said Sue Rewey as she idled in her sparkling 1957 pink Thunderbird in downtown Palm Beach.

An 80-year-old land developer who plays golf with Limbaugh in the winter described him as a “wonderful person.” The developer, who spoke only on condition that his name not be printed, said Limbaugh’s comments on McNabb were “absolutely correct.... I think it’s a shame a man can’t give an honest answer.”

In fact, one of the only criticisms of Limbaugh is that he appears, even after eight years in Palm Beach, to have been overly casual with his domestic help. Many Palm Beach residents draw up employment contracts similar to the nondisclosure arrangements between Hollywood stars and their help. Contracts contain a penalty fee of $10,000 to $25,000 if a worker leaks information to the press about life behind a mansion’s closed doors.

To some in Palm Beach society, the idea that Limbaugh would make himself vulnerable to his housekeeper for painkillers that easily could have been obtained through a savvy and willing physician is preposterous. After all, he is the most richly paid radio talk show host in the country; his nine-year contract is worth a reported $280 million. He lives in a $24.3-million home on the water. If he needed painkillers, they wonder, couldn’t he find a doctor?

“People in this town understand about addiction,” said Donnelly. “If anything, it draws compassion.”

Seventy miles north of Miami on the east coast of Florida, Palm Beach is an island both literally and metaphorically, set apart from the rest of South Florida by a narrow channel of water. Known as the quintessential playground for wealthy conservatives, it is home during the winter months of family dynasties like the Post cereal descendants and the Pulitzers. More recently, “younger” jet-setters such as Donald Trump and musicians Rod Stewart and Jimmy Buffett have called it home.

Palm Beach is the nation’s third-richest town. The average personal income is $109,219. It is not a gated community nor a private community, but it may as well be.

For years, nonresident workers such as gardeners and nannies were required to carry I.D. cards with them at all times. Visiting day workers were fingerprinted at the police station before they were allowed to work here. It was, officials said, an effective way of keeping the crime rate down and insulating the 9,000 permanent residents from the problems associated with poorer communities nearby. The ACLU challenged the law’s constitutionality, and in 1986 it was overturned.

Still, say many who are hired to work on the island, the expectations are clear: do your work and leave.

On a recent weekday afternoon, painter Keith Harris, 46, and his brother cooled down from a day of work by sipping sodas in their beat-up white van on Worth Avenue as ladies in summer cashmere milled around the upscale retailers Louis Vuitton and Cartier. “Here, they try to keep everybody out,” Harris said.

Palm Beach is “staffed” by workers who live on the mainland, in the large, working-class city of West Palm Beach half a mile away. This is where the 42-year-old Cline is considered uncommonly brave, not because she sold her story to the Boca Raton-based tabloid (although, that brings with it a certain approval), but because she stood up to what is perceived as a hostile Palm Beach power structure that shuts out the have-nots.

At a Carvel Ice Cream store in West Palm Beach, a devout 69-year-old Limbaugh fan pushed around her scoop of vanilla ice cream and voiced an oft-heard sentiment about Limbaugh’s former housekeeper: “It took a lot of chutzpah for her to come out with this,” said Barbara Fischang. “She’s standing up for what she believes in.”

Fischang, a retired widow who has lived in West Palm Beach for five years, has never “set foot on Palm Beach.”

Cline’s accusations seem to provide an outlet for many West Palm Beach residents who resent what they feel is the island’s contempt for what one resident called “us ordinary people.”

“She must be so scared to go up against such a powerful man,” said Cathy Pauldino, Cline’s neighbor of five years in the small community of Loxahatchee, 22 miles west of Palm Beach. Cline has been out of town since the news broke, but her husband, David, told a reporter he could not comment beyond what was printed in the Enquirer. The Clines’ attorney, Edward Shohat, did not return phone calls.

Loxahatchee lies along the eastern edges of Palm Beach County, where the average resident earns nearly $23,000 a year. The Clines live in a tidy green house with a 22-foot pleasure cruiser parked on the side. In the front yard, a modest wooden landing hovers above a small stagnant pond.

Cline was paid $370 a week to clean the house and do laundry for Limbaugh and his wife, Marta.

The painkiller arrangement started out, Cline told the tabloid, as a way for Limbaugh to relieve chronic ear pain. Two years ago Limbaugh shocked listeners by announcing he was completely deaf in his left ear and was quickly losing his ability to hear in his right ear. He has since undergone a cochlear implant that restored his hearing.

Palm Beach County prosecutors confirmed that they are looking into accusations by Cline that Limbaugh purchased the pain killing drugs hydrocodone, Lorcet and OxyContin from Cline. They also said that Cline has given them e-mails from Limbaugh, recordings of phone calls with him and tapes of two of her interactions with him. The tapes, said one law enforcement source, would be inadmissible in court, but could be useful “for investigative purposes.”

Meanwhile, people in Palm Beach don’t seem to be holding their breath in the case.

“Even if the accusations are true,” said Jan Tuckwood, associate editor the Palm Beach Post, “drug abuse is not shocking in Palm Beach. I don’t know if it’s much different from Beverly Hills, except people here are older.”