Arthur Hailey - Evening News

Checking his watch, he decided he had time to drive to the Baltimore Star's Manhattan bureau, write both stories there, and still make the paper's main afternoon edition. Driving fast, mentally stringing words and sentences together as the miles flew by, he headed south on Saw Mill River Parkway, then Interstate 87.

* * *

Seated at a computer terminal in the bureau's modest office at Rockefeller Plaza, Glen Dawson quickly wrote the palladium story first. It was what he had been sent to do and an original obligation was now decently fulfilled.

He then began the more exciting second story. His first report had gone to the financial desk and, since he was assigned there, so would the second. He was certain, though, it would not remain at financial for very long.

His fingers danced over the keyboard, composing a lead.

As he did, Dawson wondered about an ethical question which he knew would have to be asked and answered soon: Would publication of the information he was now writing place the kidnap victims in Peru in greater peril than they were already?

More specifically: Would the Sloane family hostages be harmed by revelation of the CBA network decision to reject the demands of Sendero Luminoso, a decision which obviously, at this point, was not intended to be disclosed?

Or, on the other hand, was the public entitled to know whatever an enterprising reporter like himself was able to find out, no matter how the information was obtained?

Though such questions existed, the plain fact was, Dawson knew, they were none of his business or concern. The rules in the matter were precise and known to all parties involved.

A reporter's responsibility was to write any worthwhile story he found. If he discovered news, his job was not to suppress or modify it in any way, but to write a full and accurate report, then deliver it to the organization that employed him.

At that point what had been written would go to an editor. It was the editor, or editors, who must consider ethics.

In Baltimore, Dawson thought, where his story would be printing out at another computer terminal, that was probably happening right now.

As he concluded, he pressed a key to get a local printout for himself. However, another hand reached out and got the printout first.

It was the bureau chief, Sandy Sefton, who had just come in. A veteran general reporter, Sefton was a few years from retirement and he and Dawson were good friends. As he read the printout, the bureau chief whistled softly, then looked up.

”You got a hot one all right. Those words of Elliott's—did you write them down right when he said them?”

"Within seconds.” Dawson showed the older man his notes.

”Good! Have you talked to this other guy, Alden Rhodes?”

Dawson shook his head.

”Baltimore will probably want you to.”A telephone rang.”Want to bet that's Baltimore now?”

It was. Sefton took the call, listened briefly, then said, "My boy's gonna lead the paper tonight, right?”

He grinned as he passed the phone to Dawson.”It's Frazer.”

J. Allardyce Frazer was executive editor. He wasted no time, his voice authoritative.”You haven't spoken to Theodore Elliott directly yet. Correct?”

"Correct, Mr. Frazer.”

"Do it. Tell him what you have and ask if he has a comment. If he denies saying it, report that too. If he does deny, try for a confirmation from Alden Rhodes. You know the kind of question to ask?”

"I think so.”

"Let me talk to Sandy.”

The bureau chief took the phone. He winked at Dawson while he listened, then said, "I've seen Glen's notes. He wrote Elliott's words on the spot. They're clear. No chance of a misunderstanding.”

Replacing the phone, Sefton told Dawson.”You're not home free yet; they're debating ethics. You carry on with Elliott. I'll try to locate Rhodes; he can't have got back to Washington.” Sefton crossed the room to use another phone.

Dawson tapped out Globanic's number. After going through a switchboard, a woman's voice answered. The reporter identified himself and asked for "Mr. Theodore Elliott.”

"Mr. Elliott is not available now,” the voice said pleasantly.”I'm Mrs. Kessler. Is there something I can do?”

"Perhaps.” Dawson carefully explained why he had called.

The voice became cool.”Wait, please.”

Several minutes passed. Dawson was about to hang up and call again when the connection came alive. This time the voice was frigid.”Mr. Elliott advises that whatever you think you heard was confidential and may not be used.”

"I'm a reporter,” Dawson said.”If I hear or learn something and it wasn't told to me confidentially, I'm entitled to use it.”

“Mr. Dawson, I see no point in prolonging this conversation.”

"Just a moment, please. Does Mr. Elliott deny having used the words I read to you?”

"Mr. Elliott has no further comment.”

Dawson wrote down the question and answer, as he had the previous exchange.”Mrs. Kessler, do you mind telling me your first name?”

"There is no reason to . . . well, Diana.”

Dawson smiled, guessing Kessler had reasoned that if her name was to appear in print, it might as well be in full. About to say thank you, he realized the connection had been severed.

As he replaced the phone, the bureau chief handed him a slip of paper.”Rhodes is on his way to La Guardia in a State Department car. Here's the number of the car phone.”

Dawson lifted his phone again.

This time, after a ringing tone, a male voice answered. When Dawson asked for "Mr. Alden Rhodes,” the response was, "This is he.”

Again the reporter identified himself, aware that Sandy Sefton was listening on an extension.

”Mr. Rhodes, my paper would like to know if you have any comment on Mr. Theodore Elliott's statement that CBA network will reject the recent Sendero Luminoso, demands and, in Mr. Elliott's words, 'we're not going to let a bunch of crazy Commies push us around.”

"Theo Elliott told you that !”

“I heard him say it personally, Mr. Rhodes.”

"I thought he wanted it kept confidential.” A pause.”Now wait a minute! Were you sitting in that hall when we walked through?”

"Yes, I was.”

"Dawson, you've tricked me and I insist this entire conversation be off the record.”

"Mr. Rhodes, before we began talking I identified myself and you did not say anything about being off the record.”

"Fuck you, Dawson!”

"That last was off the record, sir. By then you'd told me.”

The bureau chief, grinning, gave a thumbs-up signal.

* * *

The ethical debate in Baltimore did not last long.

In any news organization there always existed a predilection toward disclosure. However, with some news stories—and this was one—certain questions needed to be asked and answered. The executive editor and national editor, who would oversee the story, posed them to each other.

QUESTION: Would publication of CBA's decision imperil the hostages?

ANSWER: The hostages were in peril already; it was hard to see how publication of anything could make much difference.

QUESTION: Would anyone be killed because of publication?

ANSWER: Unlikely because a dead hostage would cease to be of value.

QUESTION: Since CBA would have to make its decision known in a day or two, what difference would it make to be a little early?

ANSWER: Not much, if any.

QUESTION: Since Globanic's Theo Elliott revealed the CBA decision casually and others must know of it, was it likely to stay secret much longer?

ANSWER: Almost certainly no. At the end, the executive editor expressed the conclusion of both: "There isn't an ethical problem. We go!”

The story led the Baltimore Star's main afternoon edition with a banner headline: