Once upon a time, not too long ago, in a place we’ll call yesterday, the phone rings in the D.A.’s press office; it’s 5:42 p.m. Surprise, surprise. The same Eyewitless News hound who calls every Friday, late, is on the horn with his usual breathless appeal. He’s on to a biggie… “Just need a minute of your time to break it wide open,” he says, and here’s what he knows. What follows is about a minute and a half of innuendo, maybes, coulda-shoulda-wouldas. In a word: gossip. The reality? He wants someone to rattle a few cages looking for any kind of corroborative “evidence” that could lend even a hint of efficacy to this “breaking news.” And yes, believers, he needs it wrapped nicely for his 6:15 p.m. deadline, trumpet flourish, tonight! In this one microcosmic incident are planted the angry seeds of mutual discontent. And you were wondering why those people in government who covet press coverage and those folks in the news biz who need a good story are so often at sixes and sevens? The answer is easy but not pretty. History and a paranoid distrust ultimately breeds total non-communication.

Virtually chiseled in stone for today's reporter is this hype-driven mantra, repeat after me: "All government operatives, from the top to the lowliest drone, are lying about or hiding something. It is our job to catch them at it, but only if we get the story first. We'll try to get it right later." Yes, it's a given that the pressures of writing on deadline are problematic. There comes a point in every story when a reporter has to stop asking questions, stop digging and get to work writing. But one of the troublesome things that often comes with the last-minute crunch is a failure to report faithfully those facts already on record as part of the story. On the other hand, and equally Pavlovian for the government toiler, siege mentality about the press is firmly in place: "Every one of those sneaky, backstabbing, illiterate, know-nothing bastards is out to get us no matter what we do, so f--- them!" Right. As quick to decry the failings of others as they are slow to 'fess up to their own tendency to stonewall. The battle lines seem irrevocably etched. And to parrot Mr. Seinfeld, not that there's anything wrong with that.

Flashback to those thrilling days of yesternews. From the early 1900s through the late 1920s most journalistic efforts in the U.S. were unapologetically partisan. Each political movement, as an example, had a daily newspaper and/or magazine that backed the movement's ideologies and fearlessly viewed day-to-day news through the tainted prism of their own chosen bias -- a bias that sometimes undermined the chosen causes as often as it advanced them. You defended your turf and deflected criticism or blame by pointing a derisive finger at something or somebody else. It was not only expected, it was the rule of the day. People often bought newspapers just to see who was getting properly skewered and for what probably good reason.

The early 1930s saw a reversal in journalistic attitude as broadcasting stoked the news equation. Media entities adopted together standards of objectivity in an attempt to lure larger mass audiences. Now zip through a few decades to make a long story short -- the 1990s and the Millennium, a new era that's been totally penetrated by the ever-burgeoning forces and venues of communication. Whose truth is more compelling? USA Today? The Internet? Should the workings of a government office be held captive by what some television producer or radio talk show loudmouth proclaims to be his or her version of the truth? Who bothers to really sort things out? The very notion of what is truth has changed in this current media age of fast and loose carelessness with things alleged to be fact. Unhappily, the gathering of news has also fallen prey to the more pressing demands of faltering broadcast ratings and sagging print circulations. News is no longer simply news, it's the bean counters' bottom line packaged as entertainment for audience-building and a profit. Now the itch that needs scratching becomes a question: how do we tell the difference, or does it matter?

To attack all media as a single class is patently unfair and totally irresponsible -- no more or less so than to label every governmental practitioner with equal invective. There is an arguable irony here, though, which kind of joins these two warlike parties at the hip. Each is a generalist who struggles to understand the special importance and impact of the specific issue under the microscope of the moment. Both are committed to serving the people, even through and in spite of that ever-present veil of mutual distrust. Face it, there's a delicate balance. Without a challenging cadre of probing journalists any government entity would be given free rein toward winning public sentiment solely to suit its own agenda. So, because our democratic way all but mandates that our populace be informed, let's just say that the information highway would have fewer potholes if all participants who chose to drive that highway were better informed and less vengeful.

Sept. 11 did show us that change was possible; these hard line combatants could overcome long-held enmities. Media and government stepped up in the face of tragedy and joined as twin headlights of total news illumination. Petty bickering stopped. Heroes were born -- but not for long. Regrettably, that brilliant blip on the radar screen of shared reality dimmed swiftly. Government agencies quickly returned to their time-worn inter-agency turf wars and self-interest spin-doctoring. The media outlets, true to past performance in the clutch, happily took the shortest road to a story by reverting to style and nitpicking everything into overkill numbness. Smile; hope for better days springs eternal.

One last parting shot from a lapsed government press secretary. The following James Reston take on press relations hung on my D.A.'s office wall for almost eight years:

"There are really only three ways to deal with the press: The best way is to tell them everything: this keeps them busy and eventually exhausts and bores them. The next best way is to tell them nothing, which excites the cop in them and gives them the excitement of mystery. The worst way, Mr. Nixon's way and also Mr. Johnson's way, is to try to manipulate them, to pretend to be candid in private conversations, but to use every trick in the book to get them to fill the headlines and front pages with calculated trash."

Bill Davol was director of communications for Philadelphia District Attorney Lynne Abraham.