The problem was that at the end of six months, Dana was still a gofer. She went to see Bill Crowell, the managing editor.
“I really think I’m ready,” Dana said earnestly. “If you give me an assignment, I’ll—”
He did not even look up. “There’s no opening yet. My coffee’s cold.”
It isn’t fair, Dana thought. They won’t even give me a chance. Dana had heard a line that she firmly believed in. “If something can stop you, you might as well let it.” Well, nothing’s going to stop me, Dana thought. Nothing. But how am I going to get started?
One morning, as Dana was walking through the deserted Teletype room, carrying cups of hot coffee, a police scanner printout was coming over the wires. Curious, Dana walked over and read it:
ASSOCIATED PRESS—CLAREMONT, CALIFORNIA. IN CLAREMONT THIS MORNING, THERE WAS AN ATTEMPTED KIDNAPPING. A SIX-YEAR-OLD BOY WAS PICKED UP BY A STRANGER AND…
Dana read the rest of the story, wide-eyed. She took a deep breath, ripped the story from the Teletype, and put it in her pocket. No one else had seen it.
Dana hurried into Bill Crowell’s office, breathless. “Mr. Crowell, someone tried to kidnap a little boy in Claremont this morning. He offered to take him on a pony ride. The boy wanted some candy first, and the kidnapper took him to a candy store, where the owner recognized the boy. The owner called the police and the kidnapper fled.”
Bill Crowell was excited. “There was nothing on the wires. How did you hear about this?”
“I—I happened to be in the store, and they were talking about it and—”
“I’ll get a reporter over there right away.”
“Why don’t you let me cover it?” Dana said quickly. “The owner of the candy store knows me. He’ll talk to me.”
He studied Dana a moment and said reluctantly, “All right.”
Dana interviewed the owner of the candy store, and her story appeared on the front page of the Claremont Examiner the next day and was well received.
“That wasn’t a bad job,” Bill Crowell told her. “Not bad at all.”
“Thank you.”
It was almost a week before Dana found herself alone again in the Teletype room. There was a story coming in on the wire from the Associated Press:
POMONA, CALIFORNIA: FEMALE JUDO INSTRUCTOR CAPTURES WOULD-BE RAPIST.
Perfect, Dana decided. She tore off the printout, crumpled it, stuffed it in her pocket, and hurried in to see Bill Crowell.
“My old roommate just called me,” Dana said excitedly. “She was looking out the window and saw a woman attack a would-be rapist. I’d like to cover it.”
Crowell looked at her a moment. “Go ahead.”
Dana drove to Pomona to get an interview with the judo instructor, and again her story made the front page.
Bill Crowell asked Dana to come into his office. “How would you like to have a regular beat?”
Dana was thrilled. “Great!” It’s begun, she thought. My career has finally begun.
The following day, the Claremont Examiner was sold to the Washington Tribune in Washington, D.C.
When the news of the sale came out, most of the Claremont Examiner employees were dismayed. It was inevitable that there would be downsizing and that some of them would lose their jobs. Dana did not think of it that way. I work for the Washington Tribune now, she thought, and the next logical thought was, Why don’t I go to work at its headquarters?
She marched into Bill Crowell’s office. “I’d like a ten-day leave.”
He looked at her curiously. “Dana, most of the people around here won’t go to the bathroom because they’re scared to death that their desks won’t be there when they get back. Aren’t you worried?”
“Why should I be? I’m the best reporter you have,” she said confidently. “I’m going to get a job at the Washington Tribune.”
“Are you serious?” He saw her expression. “You’re serious.” He sighed. “All right. Try to see Matt Baker. He’s in charge of Washington Tribune Enterprises—newspapers, TV stations, radio, everything.”
“Matt Baker. Right.”
8
Washington, D.C., was a much larger city than Dana had imagined. This was the power center of the world, and Dana could feel the electricity in the air. This is where I belong, she thought happily.