WHEN GARY HART was exposed as a philanderer, ending his 1988 presidential bid, Ron Dozoretz stood by him and helped arrange a much-needed respite in Ireland. When Michael Kennedy died in a 1997 skiing accident, Beth Dozoretz bought pizzas and opened her Aspen, Colorado, vacation home to the grieving Kennedy clan. And when President Clinton faced the fallout of scandals from White House fund-raising coffees to Monica Lewinsky, the Dozoretzes were there to help bail him out — financially, legally, and emotionally.
This loyalty — along with millions upon millions of dollars in contributions and dozens of fund-raisers at their Washington, D.C., mansion — has made Ron and Beth Dozoretz well-known figures among high-society Beltway Democrats. And though they have been gossip-column regulars for the past eight years, they’ve managed to glide through with little of the media scrutiny visited on so many other Clinton associates.
But in the waning days of the Clinton nightmare, the Dozoretz name popped up in two embarrassing news stories. The controversies differ in degree, but not in kind. One is minor, almost petty; the other potentially criminal. But taken together, they provide a perfect coda to the Clinton presidency and a telling glimpse of the people who comfort the comfortable.
And just as Clinton will no doubt continue to wield tremendous influence over the direction of the Democratic party, so will Ron and Beth Dozoretz. They have contributed to at least half the Democrats currently serving in the Senate, and countless House members. They held a fund-raiser at their home in honor of the new Democratic National Committee chairman, Terry McAuliffe. And they are close to the still-thriving Kennedy and Cuomo dynasties — the likely source of 2002 gubernatorial candidates in Maryland, New York, and Massachusetts.
“They’ve given to everyone and his brother,” says Larry Sabato, professor of government at the University of Virginia. This generosity has its rewards.
Ten days before the world (and the Justice Department) learned of President Clinton’s pardon of Marc Rich, Beth Dozoretz had a pretty good idea that it was coming. Mrs. Dozoretz, a Clinton intimate and former finance chair of the Democratic National Committee, spoke to the president from Aspen. At her side sat Denise Rich, the ex-wife of, and chief lobbyist for, the fugitive financier.
E-mails between Denise Rich’s lawyer, former White House counsel Jack Quinn, and others trying to secure the pardon, place Beth Dozoretz at the center of the intrigue. Quinn, in his testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee, acknowledged Mrs. Dozoretz’s key role, as “a close friend of Denise Rich, and . . . a good friend of President Clinton.” “I knew that she speaks with the former president with some frequency,” Quinn said, “and so I was sure she would know of my efforts and no doubt inquire about the status of our application. That was not unwelcome to me.”
Quinn added that he didn’t ask Dozoretz to bring up the pardon “in a fund-raising capacity” with Clinton. According to the e-mails, Clinton told Dozoretz that he “[wanted] to do it” and that he needed only to “turn around” the White House attorneys opposed to the Rich pardon. The same e-mail reported that Denise Rich thought “he sounded very positive” about the prospects of a pardon.
The pardon came, of course, shortly after Mrs. Rich gave a reported $ 450,000 in support of Clinton’s presidential library. And now, House and Senate committees, federal prosecutors in New York, and the FBI all are investigating Clinton’s ultimate presidential act.
Less weighty but more curious is the favor Clinton did for Beth’s third husband, Ron. In 1996, Clinton named Mr. Dozoretz to a six-year term as a Kennedy Center trustee, a coveted sinecure among D.C. socialities. With only two years left to his term and an incoming President Bush, Dozoretz abruptly resigned his position in mid-January, only to have Clinton reappoint him days later to another six-year term.
The move surprised other Kennedy Center bigwigs. “It’s not uncommon to be reappointed” to the board, said one Kennedy Center officer. “Republican presidents reappoint Democrats, and Democrats reappoint Republicans, provided they’re active and productive. But this is the first I’m aware of someone going through the process of resigning and being reappointed. It’s an unnecessary action.”
Dozoretz, who did not respond to calls for this piece, justified the unprecedented move by pointing to a situation of near-crisis proportions at the Kennedy Center. “The truth is I’m very involved working at the Kennedy Center, redoing the restaurants and improving the kitchen and the catering service,” Dozoretz told the Washington Post. “That will take two or three years more, and I want to finish the job. When we’re done, it will enhance the whole image of the Kennedy Center.”
Image-enhancement — though it backfired in the case of Ron’s reappointment to the board, which was criticized as a crude display of political patronage — is something of a preoccupation with both Dozoretzes.
Two years ago, after she saw Necessary Targets, a play by Vagina Monologues author Eve Ensler, performed in Bosnia, Beth offered to help secure a D.C. venue for a reading. The Kennedy Center contributed its Terrace Theater, Glenn Close and Whoopi Goldberg booked their flights, 400 other important people put on their theater-best, and a major event was born. (The evening’s honoree: Hillary Rodham Clinton.)
Some associates say a desire for social status is behind Ron Dozoretz’s generous political giving. Others note that his giving is bipartisan — he’s made scattered contributions to Republicans, mostly from his adopted state of Virginia — and suggest that his real goal is access. Dozoretz, worth an estimated $ 250 million, owns and operates FHC Health Systems, a network of private health care companies that focus on mental health services and substance abuse. His biography on the company’s website claims Dozoretz “has been recruited by health care policy makers in the White House to assist in developing national health care policy.” Still others point to his medical degree and offer more cerebral reasons. “You’ve got to remember, Ron Dozoretz is a psychiatrist,” says a longtime associate. “He’s just fascinated by the power of these folks.”
Dozoretz worked at the highest levels of political aspiration as a top adviser to Gary Hart’s 1984 presidential campaign and his short-lived 1988 bid. In the middle of the 1984 campaign, Dozoretz offered the Washington Post his professional opinion of the rigors of campaign travel, an analysis that ruled out at least one potential excuse for his candidate four years later: “This is not so stressful that it would cause people to do things that they would not ordinarily do; this merely accentuates their normal behavior,” he said. “If they get rowdy or obnoxious or drink too much or womanize, they didn’t get that way here. They’ll tell you it’s the stress of the campaign, but don’t believe it.”
Curiosity may be what prompted Dozoretz to explore his own run for the U.S. Senate in Virginia in 1988. With his deep pockets, Dozoretz hired three staffers and took several polls to test his viability as a candidate. Some of the polls were favorable, but it soon became clear that voters didn’t take to Dozoretz. “He very much wanted it, but he was blindsided and shown the door very quickly,” says Sabato.
If Dozoretz couldn’t influence American politics by winning votes, he and his wife have surely tried to do so by dispensing their money and cultivating political friends. Beth Dozoretz helped arrange a “Welcome Home” party for Clinton’s HUD secretary, Andrew Cuomo, up in New York, just nine days after Clinton left office. Cuomo, who wants to be New York’s next governor, faces a tough primary fight against popular state comptroller Carl McCall, the only black elected statewide in New York.
The party was not a fund-raiser, but a get-together of the most influential Cuomo backers, an opportunity to show their early support. At the last minute, the party’s hostess backed out, saying that the gathering would have to be held elsewhere.
The hostess? Denise Rich.
Stephen F. Hayes is a writer in Washington, D.C.
