Linda Cropp's Downtime
At Her Home in Northwest, the D.C. Mayoral Candidate Pushes Back the Politics for the Personal
Thursday, July 6, 2006; Page H01
Pay no attention to the icicle lights still strung along the side of Linda W. Cropp's red brick colonial in Crestwood. Or the "Seasons Greetings" oven mitt hanging in the kitchen. Was that a bear in a Santa cloak on the hearth?
When you're heading the city council and running for mayor, removing the last traces of holiday decorations may not top the to-do list. The D.C. Council chairman, however, is not one to sweat the small stuff.
![]() Linda Cropp and her grandson, Christian, relax in the den of the Cropp's Crestwood home. (Marvin Joseph - The Washington Post) |
"I start putting Christmas things up right after Thanksgiving and I take everything down Martin Luther King Jr. Day," Cropp said. "This year I didn't quite make the deadline."
She's had more than usual competition for her time in recent months, as she zigzags the city attending candidate forums and civic meetings seeking the Democratic nomination for mayor in the Sept. 12 primary. Cropp, 58, currently shares front-runner status with Crestwood neighbor Adrian Fenty (D-Ward 4). The tree-lined streets of their neighborhood abound with their contending yard signs -- red for her, green for him.
The four-bedroom house she moved to in 1974 is central to her busy life. It's her haven of relaxed furnishings and family treasures where she raised two children and launched the high-profile political career that led to becoming the first woman to head the D.C. City Council. During these years she has never been a homemaker who fusses over perfection -- piles of toys or a cluttered kitchen table are a cost of her demanding commitments.
The public knows Cropp as a prominent government official and sometime lightning rod for controversy over such hot-button issues as funding for the new baseball stadium or D.C.'s troubled schools. Only family and close friends know that she sewed the blue-and-white flowered curtains in the kitchen and did the tiling and wallpapering there, too. She also reupholstered her living room chairs, plays in several bridge groups and works her way down the bestseller list listening to audio books on her iPod. She's a self-proclaimed "Christmas fanatic" who decorates a tree in every room and has collected 65 German-crafted Steinbach nutcrackers. After long days of political campaigning, she stays up past midnight making jewelry.
At the center of her private life is a cherished weekly ritual: Friday nights at home with 6-year-old grandson Christian. Every week, her husband of 36 years, Dwight Cropp -- "Big Daddy," as Christian calls him -- picks the boy up from school or camp to spend the night. "It's a special time for us," says Linda Cropp. She and her only grandchild look forward to reading books to each other and creating fruity concoctions in the blender.
The home of Linda and Dwight Cropp is a corner property with a large cherry tree shading the lawn and red Mustang convertible parked in front. Dwight Cropp, an associate professor of public policy at George Washington University and a fourth-generation Washingtonian, keeps the roses blooming and tries to discourage deer from nearby Rock Creek Park from devouring them for dinner. He is his wife's biggest cheerleader, greeting her at the end of the day when she returns to her sunny bay window and cozy sunroom.
"I'm out every single night -- many nights I have two events," she says. "I get home usually between 9 and 10:30 and I usually stop in and get a hug from him and then try to catch up on what I have to prepare for the next day."
One recent day, she took a reporter and photographer on a tour of the first floor. The master bedroom upstairs has been designated "off-limits": Cropp says the room is her home's command center, bursting with a computer, treadmill, wardrobe and jewelry-making supplies.
The tour of the 1938 Colonial begins in the wood-paneled family room, with a large, cushy sectional, gas fireplace and lots of framed family photos. The room is furnished for Christian: It has a Spiderman flip-out loveseat, lots of books and games, a bike, a computer and stuffed animals.
"Right now, nobody cooks," says Cropp, quickly breezing through her kitchen with its exposed-brick wall, blue-and-white wallpaper and stacks of pots and pans. "I'm a decent cook of traditional American Southern dishes, and am famous for my peach cobbler."


