Congress Nobody Here but Us Chickens

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If an ordinary citizen wrote a bad check, he could pay a penalty of up to $25 or face interest on the overdraft amount. Not so for the members of the U.S. House of Representatives who collectively kited at least 20,000 checks worth $10.8 million at their members-only bank over a three-year period. When the scandal broke last October, congressional leaders tried to shrug it off as a minor administrative snafu and closed the bank. But public outrage over abuse of privilege continued to mount, fueled by allegations of dope dealing at the House Post Office, unpaid bills at the exclusive members' dining room and extravagant junketeering at taxpayer expense.

| Terrified at the prospect of facing an angry electorate in November amid charges of a cover-up, Democrats and Republicans alike voted last week to come clean. The identities of all 355 check floaters will not be made public until next month, but the 24 most flagrant offenders will be outed next week. According to the the House ethics committee, these members "repeatedly and routinely" abused the overdraft privilege by writing checks that exceeded the amount of their next month's salary at least eight times within the 39-month period under investigation. One member kited 996 checks totaling $251,000 during that time, a rate of about one a day; another legislator issued 743 bad checks for $595,000 worth of goods and services.

Among the offenders is the man who was responsible for running the bank: House sergeant-at-arms Jack Russ. The 46-year-old Mississippian, who had personally floated checks totaling $56,100, resigned under pressure last week. The move followed news reports suggesting that Russ, who claimed to have been wounded in a mugging on March 1, may actually have shot himself in the cheek in order to deflect criticism over his handling of the bank during his nine years on the job. Russ, who denies the rumors, ignored repeated warnings from the General Accounting Office that the check-writing perk needed reform.

Once it became clear that all names would be divulged, the hallways of Congress were jammed with lawmakers reciting fervent mea culpas to TV crews in hopes of lancing the boil before they were officially exposed. Charles Hatcher, a Georgia Democrat, apologized for writing 780 bad checks. California Republican Duncan Hunter confessed to constituents that he had overdrawn his account at least 160 times. By week's end, more than 75 members of Congress had fessed up to using the privilege, but some of the most chronic abusers remained silent. Even the leadership has not been spared embarrassment: Speaker Tom Foley kited a $540 check for stereo equipment, and House minority whip Newt Gingrich wrote bad checks at least three times.

Some of the guilty sought refuge in technicalities. They pointed out that the defunct facility was not really a bank but a disbursement center where members were given accounts that did not bear interest. Each account was credited monthly with the individual member's net salary, generally $7,000 after deductions. Because overdrafts were covered by the money on deposit from congressional colleagues, it was argued, no public funds were involved. Sloppy record keeping prevented some from knowing that they were in arrears. "We've been double-crossed and done real dirty by this bank," complained Pete Kostmayer, a California Democrat who admitted to writing 19 bum checks during the period.