A. Burger

     You check into the office one morning and find the nightside reporter has left some notes for you about what seems to be a routine police report. As the police reporter, it is your job to handle the story. You go to headquarters and look at the report.

     The report by Patrolman Fred Galzo (all quotes are from his report) states that while two officers were chatting in the parking lot of the Burger King at 4700 Airport Road, a 1987 white Dodge pulled in at "a fast rate of speed." Galzo asked the operator for license and registration and, his report continues, "checked vehicle and found it unsafe and informed Officer (Paul) Burns to inform headquarters that a tow truck was wanted for an impoundment of motor vehicle." Galzo then issued two summonses to the operator, George Post, 18, of 25 Domino Road. Vehicle was registered to the passenger, Thomas Polk, 18, of 10 Topeka St.
     "After said vehicle was taken, the above two in question were standing in the lot and informed me that they are not going to leave and began to get loud and abusive." At this time, two other officers arrived and Galzo told them he needed help. "Who the fuck do you think you are taking our car?" one of the youths said.
     "Both men were using indecent language with the indecent word (fuck) in their conversation. I informed both that they were under arrest, and the officers assisted me in arresting the accused. At this time, both men refused to get in the patrol car and became violent while we attempted to place same in the rear seat of the police vehicle.
     "After the necessary amount of force was used and the arrest was completed they were transported to headquarters and booked." The two continued to make "comments about the police and our headquarters, and Post went on to say that they should burn this shit down and that he could build better shit than this and was taking out our cards from the rack and making comments about same. I asked this person several times to keep quiet and to stand at the other end of the room.
     "Not replying to my request which I made several times I got up from my chair and extended my left hand outward to escort him to far side of room. He was stepping backward and tripped over Officer Gerber's chair and fell to the ground. At this time he got up and stated that his arm was broken and to send him to the doctor's. The lieutenant called the ambulance, which transported him to Community Hospital.
     "Both men were charged with using loud and abusive language and failing to obey an officer's orders."
     On the notes the nightside reporter left is the notation, "Released $25 bail each pending hearing tomorrow night. Post said he had fractured left wrist."

     You have 15 minutes to deadline. What do you do?

B. Politico

     You cover the statehouse in a state with a large Spanish-speaking population. The primary elections are coming up and the incumbent attorney general, Ralph Martinez, a Democrat, has indicated he plans to run for governor. You hear that this annoys the leadership of the Democratic Party because Martinez—a popular, crusading official—might win the party nomination. In the general election, the Democratic Party leaders believe, the Republicans would have a decided advantage if they presented a non-Spanish-speaking candidate.
     You have been around state politics long enough to know that there is some logic to this thinking. Some people vote along ethnic lines, and your study of county returns has proved to you that although the state has had a Democratic governor for the past 12 years, there might be some trouble for a Democratic candidate with a Spanish surname.
     You check with your sources and contacts to get the lay of the land. There is no question that the party leadership is worried by Martinez. He could lose the gubernatorial race—thus eliminating thousands of patronage jobs, inside information on contracts and the various spoils of office—and even if he were to win, his political independence is not liked by the party regulars. Some of his assistants in the attorney general's office are known to be Republicans.
     One of your sources, Charles DuParte, a former reporter who is secretary to the governor, says the Democratic leadership has been meeting to discuss the situation. The last meeting was at the home of the state party chairman. Walter Kegel. The governor, John Mabee, who is retiring from politics at the expiration of his term, sat in the meeting but said nothing. He is taking a hands-off position. "It's too incendiary," DuParte says, "for him to get involved. He wants to go out smiling, and the Hispanic thing has got everybody tense."
     No, you cannot quote him on any of this. You know he is truthful, and you ask him whether you can use the information without his name. He says he doesn't care so long as you keep the governor out of the scene. It's yours exclusively, he says.
At this point, you can write an interpretative story if you wish to. Make it about 250 words.
     You continue to report. A county chairman of the Democratic Party, Alberto Gonzales, is in the state capital and you run into him. He says he was chatting with Don Sanchez, a state corporation commissioner, and Sanchez "was making sounds like a candidate." A candidate for what? Gonzales motions you over to a side corridor. "For governor," he whispers.
     You know that Sanchez won his last race by a whisker and has had a bland career in his job as a commissioner. As a candidate for governor, he makes no sense. You tell Gonzales this, and he smiles knowingly. With a bit of condescension in his voice, he says, "Well, I thought you knew politics. Strange things happen, don't they? Especially when the right people get together."
     What right people? Has Sanchez been meeting with anyone? Did he see Kegel lately? You shoot the questions at Gonzales, but all he does is smile. You decide to see Sanchez.
     After the usual chitchat, you ask him what he thinks of Martinez as a candidate for governor "Oh," says Sanchez, "I ­didn't know he's running." So that's to be his game, you think, and you take a risk:
     "I heard that's what you and Walter talked about at that meeting the other night."
     Sanchez is an old hand at politics, and you watch him carefully. He won't fall out of his chair, perhaps not even blink if you hit home. He does start, and he begins to finger some papers on his desk. You've hit home. You press on.
     "I heard that the fellows think you would make a good candidate." Appeal to his vanity. "They say that Martinez is not really popular up north, where you have always done well."
Sanchez melts a bit. "Yes, they liked my campaigning up there," he says. "But I'm not sure I'll run. I said that. I told them I couldn't be sure. I have two more years in this job, you know, and there are many things I want to finish up."
     You know that the best thing to do now is to keep him talking, and you tell him you think that one area he could look into is the interstate trucking situation involving independent truckers, a subject he has spoken about. He warms to that. You let him talk, and then you mention that such a record would look good in a gubernatorial campaign—a candidate who has tried to bring down fees for truckers so that food and other material they bring in won't cost so much.
     "Yes, I'd have something to say, all right," he says.
     Of course, you tell him, he would be head-and-head with Martinez should the attorney general run, and you know what that would mean. (You are not really sure what he will take that to mean. It's an open-ended probe that he could interpret as meaning a tough campaign up north for both of them since Martinez is popular there, too. Or it could mean his candidacy would clear the way for a non-Spanish-speaking candidate to win because the Spanish-speaking electorate would split its vote.)
     "What would it mean?" he asks you suspiciously.
     "What everyone is saying," you answer. "That you would be a stalking horse."
     "Nobody's saying that," he says testily. "Tell me who says I'm out to kill off Martinez and I'll call him a liar. Just print that, you hear. Print that when I make my decision, I'll be a candidate. I'll run and run hard and all those who make those accusations will be outside when I'm up there in the governor's office." He points to the floor above him, the governor's suite.
     "Are you a candidate?" you persist.
     "I'll make up my mind next week. I'm seriously thinking of it. You can say that."
     You call Kegel from your office in the statehouse and try to bluff him. It doesn't work. Finally, you ask, "Are you going to tell me that Sanchez is a liar, that he is trying to commit you to something that's all a dream? That's going to look good, Walter."
     He replies, "I will say that I will neither confirm nor deny that Mr. Sanchez met with the party central committee the other day. You know we cannot support a candidate. That's illegal as hell. He may have been in there to chat. He's a loyal Democrat and he has good ideas about party matters and state government. Don's one of our best state servants."
     You have heard enough. You call the city editor and tell him you are ready to write an interpretative piece about the possibility of a stalking horse in the Democratic gubernatorial primary election. He tells you to give it 400 words.