Ear-Say

Is President Ford's idea of a taste treat a dollop of horseradish sandwiched between two thick slabs of Bermuda onion? Was a certain Southern Congressman pinched for making an illegal proposition to a plainclothes Washington policewoman? Did Ethel Kennedy playfully run her white convertible over the curb in front of the Senate Office Building and nearly cancel Pedestrian Roger Mudd of CBS?

The answer is yes, or so says The Ear. Since its first appearance ten months ago in the Washington Star, this brassy if not classy daily oracle has become the most talked-about gossip column in a town that takes chitchat to heart. The Ear draws more phone calls and mail than any feature in the paper and is cited as a factor in the financially troubled Star's 6% circulation gain over a year ago.* "The wickedest thing to hit Washington since the last Administration," wrote one fan. "You're a dirty fun of a snitch," said another. A local socialite is planning an "Ear Ball" honoring Washingtonians mentioned in the column. The Star mails a gold-colored ear-shaped pin to all whose names have appeared, and some capital notables, including Presidential Assistant William Seidman and Iranian Ambassador Ardeshir Zahedi, have worn these badges of celebrity in their lapels.

The Ear is getting a hearing outside of Washington, too. It now appears in 60 mostly medium-size dailies whose editors sense an appetite among readers for capital chatter. "New York's Great White Way is not so bright and glittering any more," says Bill Bondurant, managing editor of the Fort Lauderdale News. "The center of gossip today is Washington."

The worst kept secret in Washington is the identity of the supposedly anonymous authors of The Ear, Diana McLellan, 38, and Louise Lague, 28, both Star feature-story writers. Mc-Lellan, a perky Englishwoman who came to the U.S. 19 years ago, and Lague, a tall (5 ft. 8 in.), Rhode Island-born former reporter for the now defunct Washington Daily News, stay out of the limelight. Unlike other professional gossip collectors, they avoid parties and are rarely seen at fashionable restaurants. Their first trip together to swank Sans Souci got them, in Lague's phrase, a table in "Haute Siberia." "Our work is done on the phone," says she. "We check our items. We don't run rumor, and we don't run anything we don't think is true."

What Perks. The Ear does run, with unflagging good humor and no apparent qualm, numerous corrections. Says Washington Post Executive Editor Ben Bradlee: "It's highly unprofessional and highly readable."

Bradlee should know, for nothing perks The Ear more than a chance to mention the O.P. (Other Paper, i.e., the Post), and the Fun Couple (Bradlee and his roommate-reporter, Sally Quinn). Bradlee has said he would fire any Post staffer caught whispering to The Ear ("I'd consider it a conflict of interest"), but O.P. items keep coming. The only success Bradlee has had in plugging The Ear came last winter, when Star Editor James Bellows, who dreamed up the feature and watches over it carefully, wanted to run a column to which the Post had rights. Bradlee assented, provided The Ear not mention the Fun Couple for a month. Exactly one month later, Ben and Sally were items again.

Will the O.P. fight back? The Ear may have had the last word on that, too: "Ear hears that the Other Paper is trying to figure out how to start an Ear-like column, but with more taste. Why not call it Mouth?"

*The Star, which has been losing $1 million a month, announced last week an agreement with ten unions for layoffs of 200 employees and a freeze on wage increases through Dec. 31, moves expected to save the paper $6 million a year. Also helping its fiscal picture is a 22% ad lineage increase over the first three months of 1975.

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