Teaching How to Cheat

Mrs. Barbara Whitner, 33, a petite Piedmont, Calif., housewife and former volunteer social worker, is not against welfare. Indeed, as she told a recent budget hearing of the Alameda County Board of Supervisors, she wants to preserve public assistance for those who really need it. But in California, where a newspaper expose showed that dozens of state and county officials had contrived to get themselves on welfare, the poor are often left by the wayside. Mrs. Whitner was enraged.

In Alameda County alone, the welfare budget has risen $24 million in one year to $136,666,000. "End the legal cheating," Mrs. Whitner demanded of the supervisors. Just in case the point was missed, she presented examples from her own experience, including the names and addresses of offenders. "If you won't do this," she threatened, "I'll teach others how to cheat." The official response was a yawn. That was a mistake.

Dirty Dozen. Mrs. Whitner quickly established the "School for Welfare Cheaters." Its purpose was to prove that welfare peculators can and do prosper in California. Her appearance at the hearing drew offers of help from all over and Mrs. Whitner organized eleven fellow conspirators. Though posing as needy persons, they have incomes of at least $400 to more than $1,000 a month. Under Mrs. Whitner's guidance, the Dirty Dozen set about systematically bilking Bay Area welfare offices.

Mrs. Whitner was the first to take the field, dressed in old tennis shoes, a wig and glasses. Her story was that her husband had abandoned her and her five children. The social worker asked only that she produce birth certificates for her children. She was unable to do so and still the authorities granted her food stamps worth $126 a month. "The social worker seemed so sorry for me, I had to fight off being put on total welfare," Mrs. Whitner recalls.

In the next venture, a couple borrowed a baby and hit another office in Alameda County. Their story was that they were new in the state, had three children but no money. Without even showing identification, they were signed up for the whole program on the spot. Another presented herself at a local office and though not asked for identification, volunteered to present a rent receipt. Whereupon she left the office, only to return with a bogus receipt written on a scrap of paper bag by Mrs. Whitner.

Cheaters, Inc. Emboldened by success, the Dirty Dozen began carrying their crusade to ridiculous extremes. To test the social workers, one couple told the welfare people that they had four little girls, but the child with them was clearly a boy. One of the more enterprising operatives got himself on the recipients' list under four different names--at the same office. In the last two months the Dirty Dozen has taken ten welfare offices in the three counties around San Francisco for a total of $4,000. To protect themselves from fraud proceedings the group defaced all checks, food stamps and free medical cards by writing on them "Not for deposit at any time--Cheaters Inc."

Having proved its point, the Whitner group is now cutting down its activities. Besides, says the leader, "there are so many people on welfare who are actually desperate that we don't have the conscience to continue."

What the effect of the strange crusade will be is still uncertain. Local authorities are already overburdened just keeping pace with new applicants, who in some counties average more than 200-a day. Says Robert Hannon, Chairman of the Alameda County Committee on welfare: "In essence, Mrs. Whitner's charges are correct. I'm grossly dissatisfied with the whole program." The fact that officials did not stop the Dirty Dozen even after finding out about their capers indicates both their apathy toward welfare cheaters and the difficulties of curbing their profit-making activities.

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