Free teen for cash gallery

True confessions of a tabloid opportunist; an old Lewinsky neighbor decides to cash in

For six years in the 1980s, Robin Wyshak lived next door to Monica Lewinsky and her family in Beverly Hills, Calif. She says she witnessed Lewinsky's painful weight problem, her serial fad dieting, and her makeup-drenched efforts to grow up fast. She claims to have overheard the Lewinskys' constant, bitter fighting, and she knew of the accusations of an extramarital affair that would eventually lead to an ugly divorce. So when the former White House intern's story became national news last month, Wyshak did what any good neighbor in the same position would do.

She called Hard Copy. And Inside Edition, American Journal, the National Enquirer, Star, the Globe, and every other checkbook-wielding outfit in the media game. Still struggling to finish her Ph.D. thesis on Italian Renaissance bronze door knockers, living at home with her father at age 35, facing the end of her unemployment insurance, and "desperate to pay for a very expensive pair of boots from Saks," Wyshak set out to make as much money off Lewinsky as possible. "I'm trying to parlay this into everything I can," says Wyshak, who believes the only difference left between the mainstream press and the tabloids is what they can do for her at Saks.

Preteen tales. Wyshak would not talk to U.S. News about her recollections of the Lewinskys (she saves that story for paying customers), but she did agree to tell her own tale of tabloid opportunism over a nice dinner.

Week 1: Monica mania is just hours old and Wyshak gives an interview to KABC, a local Los Angeles news station. It is the first and last time she speaks to the press for free. Later that day, she places calls to Hard Copy and the National Enquirer. She is awakened the next morning by an Enquirer reporter, wanting to know if Lewinsky had any sexual partners while living next to the Wyshaks. Wyshak points out that Monica was a preteen then. The reporter listens attentively to Wyshak's story (Monica was fat and into fad diets; her parents fought all the time; her father allegedly had an affair; her mother walked around with her hair in an elaborate bouffant like Peg Bundy's; etc.) and promises to pay her based on what the Enquirer uses. It won't be thousands, he tells her, explaining that the information is old--the Lewinskys left Beverly Hills in the late '80s--and more important, Wyshak has no sex stuff and no Monica pictures or videos. Wyshak takes the deal anyway. Her contribution appears in the February 10 Enquirer under the headline, "Monica, From Troubled Teen to White House Stalker." The tabloid agrees to pay her just $300.

Raising the ante. But this is only the beginning. The day after her deal with the Enquirer, Hard Copy promises Wyshak $1,000 for her story and dispatches a camera crew to her Los Angeles apartment. Wyshak demands a contract and is offered an agreement entitling her to half the money at the time of the interview and the other half when the interview airs. In return, Hard Copy will get Wyshak under exclusive lock and key for nearly two weeks, until February 3. Wyshak agrees, and once again spins her tale of fat, fighting, and affairs, adding that Lewinsky's mother, Marcia Lewis, tooled around Rodeo Drive in a metallic-blue Mercedes and was so stingy she wouldn't let the Wyshaks pick lemons from her tree. She also characterizes the Lewinskys' well-publicized art collection as "cheesoid gallery stuff." On a Hard Copy airing just before Clinton's State of the Union address, Wyshak gets only four seconds of airtime. Despite Hard Copy's reputation for sleaze, all her catty commentary is left on the cutting-room floor in favor of this bombshell: "They were separated and then divorced." That's right. Hard Copy paid Wyshak $250 a second to recite a matter of public record.

Week 2: Wyshak calls Star magazine to pitch her story anew. The editor seems to like it and offers her $1,000 if and when something is published. Wyshak then contacts the Globe and enters bizarro world. An editor there accuses Wyshak of being a fraud and lying about her connection to the Lewinskys. The tabloid nonetheless offers her $300 for her tale. But the offer is good only for 15 minutes, she's told. She declines.

Meanwhile, the Associated Press gives out Wyshak's home number, and calls start pouring in from the mainstream (read nonpaying) press, such as CNN, the newsweeklies, and the networks. Wyshak considers getting an answering machine that says: "Press 1 if you will pay to speak to Robin; all other callers, press 2." Wyshak refers the nonpaying customers to her father, a tax attorney, who does a couple of free interviews and then looks for payback, as well. (He wanted a five-year subscription from Newsweek.) Wyshak's mother also has a very expensive lunch with a reporter from People magazine but tells the reporter little. Meanwhile, Wyshak starts doling out the phone numbers of her three sisters, one of whom baby-sat for Monica and her brother, Michael.

Week 3: Lewinsky's former lovers and confidants are coming forward and business is getting slow around the Wyshak campfire. With little hope, Wyshak tries American Journal and Inside Edition. Cha-ching! AJ wants not just Robin, for $1,000, but also (for another $1,000) her sister Susie, the former baby sitter who says she frequently witnessed a young Monica studying herself in the mirror or dressing up in Dynasty mode. Inside Edition weighs in a few days later with another $1,000 for Wyshak's tired story and inquires what it would cost to get all four Wyshak sisters on film together, dissecting the Lewinskys. Wyshak offers the show a not-so-cut-rate deal of $4,000. When IE balks, Wyshak suggests a story about Lewinsky's brother, Michael, who has yet to be exploited. IE offers her $500, but she manages to talk the show back up to her now normal rate of $1,000. She tells IE that Michael was a quiet kid whom Monica sometimes patted on the head.

Having exhausted all the pay TV shows, Wyshak turns to radio and agrees to go on the Stephanie Miller Show. No pay, but lots of exposure and a chance to dish with one of L.A.'s crudest talk-show hosts. The talk quickly turns to cucumbers, hot dogs, and popsicles. Miller is so taken with Wyshak's acid tongue that when Miller, also a host of Equal Time on CNBC, shoots a TV spoof on chasing Monica, Wyshak plays the role of Lewinsky. Miller also invites her back on the radio show. Wyshak is starting to wonder if teaching Italian Renaissance art history is really what she wants to do in life.

But, as Monica prepares to face a grand jury in D.C., Wyshak says she hasn't actually received one dime yet for her material, and she has been calling the tabs to inquire why. "Now I know how Monica feels," she says, worrying that the tabs may be mistreating her. Wyshak hasn't given up, though. "I'm sure there's some angle I haven't thought of to keep my gravy train running," she says. Sure enough, just the other day she ran into a producer for an Italian television network. (She just happens to be fluent in Italian.) "Are you interested in the Monica Lewinsky story?" she asked. "Do you pay?"