I've come to the conclusion that I'm going about this news business all wrong.
I shouldn't waste time gathering facts, checking them out, then writing columns and editorials that inform readers. There's no seven-figure paycheck in that.
What I should do is invent a wild, eye-bulging allegation - then threaten to run the story unless someone comes across with several million dollars to change my mind.
Something like: ''Newt Gingrich Bit President Clinton Wearing Women's Underwear.''
Newt would beg Bob Dole for another loan to stop the presses on that one. And by leaving the identity of the man in women's underwear somewhat fuzzy, I might even tap into the president's legal defense fund if there's anything left after Paula Jones.
If it never happened, so what? I'm sure I can pay some ''expert witness'' to testify that something like that could have happened. And if enough people believe it, that's all the leverage I need to collect the big payola. When I do, I promise to share the wealth: I'll send a $1 coupon for Victoria's Secret to all the people who can prove they were bitten by a speaker of the U.S. House (pending verification of teeth marks, offer not valid in Alaska, Hawaii or any states between Canada and Mexico).
If that sounds sleazy and unethical, welcome to the twisted world of class-action lawsuits, which put the ''tort'' in ''extortion.'' For example:
San Francisco lawyers alleged that computer makers cheated customers by slightly exaggerating the dimensions of monitors. The computer companies ''vigorously denied'' it - but paid the lawyers $6 million to go away. The ''injured'' customers were entitled to $6 rebates - if they sent paperwork and receipts.
Inmates locked up in Lucasville Prison during a 1993 riot sued and won $4.1 million from Ohio taxpayers. Attorney General Betty Montgomery said the settlement was ''very hard to defend,'' but taxpayers would have lost a lot more by fighting it for years. ''The huge cost of litigation is an indictment of our civil system,'' she said.
In a 1995 class-action lawsuit, lawyers received more than $80 million. Homeowners with a certain kind of pipes in their homes were offered 8 percent rebates if they could prove actual leaks.
Remember the airline price-fixing lawsuit? Travelers who sent in ticket receipts won coupons for $8 to $25 off their next flight. The lawyers flew first-class with $16 million in fees.
In a lawsuit alleging pesticide contamination of cereal, lawyers won $1.75 million. The ''victims'' got a free box of cereal.
In the smoldering tobacco settlement, some lawyers have nobly agreed to reduce their fees to 3 percent - only $11 billion of the $368.5 billion deal. Smokers who can prove they had lung cancer - with receipts for the right brand of cigarettes - will probably get a free stick of Nicorette gum.
Like those attorneys on the beach in the lawyer joke, we are up to our necks in stupid legal tricks. I ran a check in our electronic library for stories that mentioned the word ''lawsuit.'' Just this month, there have been 75, including lawsuits by: a candidate who lost an election; a female college student who did not make the men's football team; a woman who demanded $1 million for being ejected from a school board meeting when she refused to stand during the pledge of allegiance; a drunk driver who sued police for $1.9 million because they did not take his gun away and he could have shot someone; and a woman who won $75,000 for being ejected from a Reds game and arrested for disorderly conduct while intoxicated and resisting arrest.
There was also this curious item from a story about Riverfest: ''Cincinnati authorities refused to make a crowd estimate, citing a lawsuit filed against Washington, D.C., police that claimed false estimates had been made during the Million Man March in 1995.''
Here is a crowd estimate that can be made public without getting sued (I hope): 20 judges, three appeals, about $600,000 in legal fees and four lawyers. That's what Ohio taxpayers have provided to Wilford Lee Barry Jr. since 1989, when he shot Charles Mitroff in the head with a .22 rifle as the Cleveland bakery owner pleaded for his life.
Mr. Barry, who was sentenced to death, demands to be executed. ''My attorney and myself knows that I am guilty of killing C. Mitroff and would do it again, cause I have no remorse for killing him,'' he wrote in a letter to the attorney general. ''I also believe that the death penalty should be used.''
He tried to fire his public defenders. They refused to quit, saying he is mentally incompetent, although tests say he's fine.
So we pay his lawyers to keep arguing. ''What they are saying is that it does not matter what their client wants,'' said Deputy Attorney General Mark Weaver.
I give up. When it comes to ripping people off, I couldn't invent a story as weird as that. Leave it to lawyers.
Peter Bronson is editorial page editor of The Enquirer. If you have questions or comments, call 768-8301, or write to 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati, Ohio 45202.
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