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Lupusgate? The reporter sniffs out a story
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Date: Aug 07, 2000 A few weeks ago I sent a letter to a local entertainment journalist about Howie's sister, Caroline, and the girls who were "just joking" when they bid $31,000 to have dinner with Howie. Here's the story that ended up being run in the San Jose Mercury News. Lupusgate? The reporter sniffs out a story by Candace Murphy THIS IS a story of how a cynical journalist -- me, who else? -- has her faith in humanity restored. It's also an affirmation that the investigative journalism class I took for my master's wasn't a complete waste of time. Who would have known all this would arise from an e-mail about Backstreet Boy Howie D.? I received the e-mail July 20. The moment I read it, I knew it was my big moment to be Woodward and Bernstein. OK, maybe just one of the two. I picked Woodward. He went to my school. Anyway, back to the e-mail. But first, would somebody please tell me when my e-mail address got scrawled in indelible marker in the virtual equivalent of a bathroom stall? I get offers to buy Viagra without leaving the comfort of my cube. I get solicitations for books about penile implantation. Still squeamish from the penile spam, I was in no rush to read the Howie e-mail. But after I did, last Thursday, visions of Pulitzers danced in my head. The e-mail went like this: Apparently two evil girls had bid $31,000 at the Lupus 2000 fundraiser to have a dinner with Howie but backed out of the bid when approached for payment, saying they were just joking. As retribution, the e-mail urged readers to look into their hearts -- read: wallets -- and donate whatever they could, even a dollar, to the charity, the Caroline Dorough-Cochran Memorial Lupus Fund. Now, Howie's sister Caroline did indeed pass away two years ago from lupus. But I smelled a rat. I checked to make sure it wasn't me. It wasn't. I went back to the e-mail. First, all donations were to be, for altruistic purposes, anonymous money orders or cashier's checks. And when signing the money order, you were to either sign it as ``Caroline Dorough'' or ``sign your own name illegibly.'' Uh-huh. But the kicker was that the Palm Bay, Fla., address donations were to be sent to was different from the one -- an Orlando hospital's -- on the Backstreet Boys' official Web site. So I did what any journalist would do. I asked someone else what to do. I turned to Steve Chae, half of the Merc's Action Line team. Mercifully, Steve immediately started to do my work for me. He looked up an old MTV transcript with Howie. He called the Orlando hospital. He checked to see if any Mailboxes Etc. offices were at the dubious address, 4610 Limpscomb, as it allows customers to call post office boxes ``suites.'' He found out nothing, except that there were no Mailboxes Etc. offices on that street. Then he told me he had his own job to do, and good luck. On my own, I tried to find the charity on the Internet Yellow Pages. No luck. Then I did a reverse-address search. Again, no luck. Then I recruited someone else to help me do my work: Merc librarian Janis Catherine. Using a more powerful research tool, Janis found one building on the street in question, but it wasn't anywhere close to the address. Back to the Internet and a search for medically related facilities in the area. I found a doctor listed at 4620 Limpscomb. I called. The receptionist, thinking I was one bulb short of a chandelier, said yes, 4610 was next door. No, she had no idea what was in it. But why hadn't I called the property owner? Brilliant idea. Even more brilliant, she had the number. The receptionist at the property owner's office was evasive. She couldn't give out information on tenants because some run several businesses out of single suites. That sounded promisingly corrupt. So I persuaded her to call the tenant and ask if it was the lupus foundation and if anyone would talk to me. Two minutes later, the receptionist called back. Yes, that's the lupus address. No, she didn't ask if anyone would talk to me. But why didn't I call them myself? Brilliant idea. Even more brilliant, she gave me the number. The woman who answered the phone at the supposed lupus number answered the phone, ``Hello.'' Not, ``Hello, we're a legit operation, really, and here's our 501c3 number assigned us by the IRS proving we're a non-profit, how can I help you?'' I was suspicious. The woman explained the addresses were different because the hospital collected donations earlier, when the foundation was waiting for 501c3 status. Asked for the 501c3 number, though, she couldn't locate it, but why did I need it anyway? Hmm. As promisingly corrupt all that was, though, the case quickly unraveled. Turns out I was talking to Howie's niece, Chelsea Herring. Chelsea and her mother, Angie, Howie's sister, ran the place. They'd been granted tentative 501c3 status three months ago, and they were in the slow process of changing addresses from Orlando to Palm Bay. All donations were going toward lupus research, education and aid to families. A call to Jack Portello, director of development at the Orlando hospital, confirmed the information. Oops. My bad. I hung up with dashed hopes for a scoop, but not without a story. The e-mail, which asks for kids to pony up whatever they can, is causing problems. Why? A lot of kids have been sending in a dollar. Sounds nice, but a dollar donation costs $4 to process, when you include postage for sending a thank-you letter, generating an IRS tax-deductible receipt and paying someone to input the information in a database. That dollar costs the foundation money. So there's a lesson to be learned here. As well-meaning as this e-mail is, don't take its advice. If you donate, take credit for it and give them your name and address so you can get a receipt. Try to donate a sum of money that you can afford but that won't cost the foundation loads of money to process. And finally, have a little faith in humanity. That's the lesson I learned.
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