Friday, March 5, 2004; Page A22

IF YOU HAVE a spare $5,000 and you're free next Wednesday night, you might want to head over to the Capital Hilton for a "Salute to the President Pro Tempore" -- that is, to Sen. Ted Stevens (R-Alaska). If this sounds like your ordinary Washington fundraiser, it isn't. Rather, it's to collect checks for the Ted Stevens Foundation, described in the invitation as "an Alaska non-profit corporation created by Alaskans to recognize and honor the career and public service" of the state's senior senator.

Of course, it won't be just Alaskans who are feting the Appropriations Committee chairman. Rather, the gathering will be heavy on Washington lobbyists who -- just guessing here -- have a bit more interest in seeing their riders included in this year's appropriations bills than in the foundation's plans for "promoting increased communications among Alaskans," encouraging amateur athletics and preserving Mr. Stevens's records. Indeed, a foundation official who insisted on anonymity estimated that half of those attending will have an interest in legislation before the Senate. Conveniently, a good two-thirds of Mr. Stevens's Senate colleagues have signed up as co-hosts, and there's a handy space on the RSVP card to request a "VIP" at your table. At $5,000 a ticket or $50,000 a table, the foundation hopes the event will bring in $2 million or more.

The lawmakers-raising-money-for-charity racket has taken off in recent years, and -- while there's an element of extortion in members of Congress hitting up lobbyists for donations to favored charities -- it's hard to complain about money going for cancer research and the like. It's a good deal sleazier, though, when the pet charity turns out to be connected to the lawmaker himself.

In this malodorous twist, Mr. Stevens, sadly, is not alone. When he was majority leader, Sen. Trent Lott (R-Miss.) headlined an $8 million Kennedy Center gala to raise money for the Trent Lott Leadership Institute at the University of Mississippi; military contractor Lockheed Martin Corp. contributed $1 million, and WorldCom, before its woes, pledged the same. Likewise, Sen. Conrad Burns (R-Mont.), chairman of a key telecommunications subcommittee, raised $5 million from -- surprise! -- telecommunications firms for the Burns Telecommunications Center at Montana State University. Other such entities include the Jesse Helms Center connected to Wingate University, the Strom Thurmond Institute of Government and Public Affairs at Clemson University and the Mitch McConnell Center for Political Leadership at the University of Louisville.

Yet Mr. Stevens's foundation doesn't even make the gesture of being associated with an academic institution, though it expects eventually to line one up to house his papers. When we called the phone number listed on its filings with the Internal Revenue Service yesterday, we found ourselves connected to the voice mail of an Alaska lawyer and former Stevens staffer, Timothy McKeever, who both lobbies the appropriations committee and serves as Mr. Stevens's campaign treasurer.

When foundations like this are set up for the benefit of sitting lawmakers, requests for contributions have the inevitable air of a shakedown: What lobbyist with an interest in appropriations matters would fail to give to Mr. Stevens's charity? Meanwhile, the money can come from corporations that are prohibited from giving directly to the senator's reelection campaign, and in far larger denominations than ordinary campaign contributions. All of this activity is subsidized by the taxpayers, since contributions to the fund are tax-deductible. Most disturbing of all, the Stevens foundation -- unlike some of the other charities with ties to lawmakers -- doesn't plan to disclose its donors or the amounts they give. Spurred in part by news reports about lobbying by Mr. Stevens's family members, the Senate ethics committee is taking a look at its rules to see whether they need tightening. It ought to add examining outfits like the Stevens foundation to its to-do list.