A manila folder

 When I was a reporter, I used to keep a manila folder or two on top of my desk.

I started life at one of the smallest daily newspapers in Texas. It was, to my mind, a great job, a chance to learn about people. I would go to city council meetings, race to robberies and attend speeches at civic clubs. Those things had to be done. I did them as quickly and as briefly as I could.

The file folders reflected a different kind of reporting. Sometimes, questions would come up about our town that I couldn’t answer. I’d get a folder and start collecting information.

When the legislature began to discuss the possibility of reforming the property tax code, a former mayor became unhinged. He spoke of creeping socialism and outright communism. He urged local governments to spend public money on lobbyists to oppose the proposed reforms.

Curious, I put a folder on my desk. It was a reminder of a question that was, in my mind, open.

In between checking on a car crash and covering a school board meeting, I dropped by the courthouse and looked at the county tax rolls. I found that the former mayor’s mansion was on the rolls at about the same value as the shotgun shacks on the other side of tracks.

A note went into the folder, but the story wasn’t ripe. I searched the tax rolls for other prominent figures and discovered that some people apparently received preferential treatment while and some apparently were being punished. More notes went into the folder.

I called professors at the state’s universities and asked for a layman’s explanation of how the system worked. Business professors and political science professors sometimes had different views. Some of the experts suggested I compare sales figures to appraisal figures. Some properties were on the appraisal rolls at full market value. Others were on at less than 10 percent.

I tracked down legislators in other parts of the state who favored reforming the system.

I fed the manila folder for a week or two. One day, a story was there.