Tom Gorman is torn between his duty as a serious journalist and his appetite for pizza pie

Wednesday, March 15, 2006 | 7:06 a.m.

Where on earth can a journalist sit in on the opening of a public corruption trial involving politicians and topless joints, and then drive down the street and drop in on the country's largest pizza convention?

Vegas, baby! I couldn't decide Tuesday which of the two events to write about.

Some of you follow serious news, and the trial of former Clark County Commissioners Mary Kincaid-Chauncey and Dario Herrera is important stuff.

We elected them to do our business and then they allegedly took care of their own business. The government has charged them with accepting money from strip club owner Michael Galardi in exchange for supporting county regulations that benefited him.

When the feds started nosing around, the girly-club owner caved in faster than a flimsy house of cards. I'm surprised the politicians didn't sprain their necks while ducking for cover.

But a lot of people are also interested in the latest news from Pizza Expo at the Las Vegas Convention Center - what's new in toppings, pizza ovens and those insulated pizza bags that delivery boys use.

The serious journalist in me said I should watch the political corruption trial. The pig in me voted for the pizza convention. I decided to cover a slice of each.

The trial opened Tuesday morning with jury selection in the largest federal courtroom in Las Vegas. It's used for special events such as naturalization ceremonies.

It's on the seventh floor of the Lloyd D. George U.S. Courthouse - noteworthy for being the first courthouse in the nation to be designed to resist the kinds of blasts that destroyed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in 1995.

The dark-paneled courtroom is filled with five rows of wood benches on either side of a center aisle, not unlike what you might find in church except that these pews have burgundy-colored leather pads. Altogether, they hold about 100 people.

Most of them were filled Tuesday with prospective jurors who were being quizzed by U.S. District Judge Larry R. Hicks about their ability to serve for at least three months.

Hicks is 62 and, with gray hair and glasses, looks like a minister.

Hicks sat behind a bench that must be at least 30 feet wide, one of the grandest I've ever seen. Behind him was a striking wall of polished, speckled-gray granite. The black-and-silver court seal hung directly behind Hicks; off to one side was the American flag, offering a dramatic splash of color.

The room was illuminated by large can lights set into the high ceiling; three or four were dark. The two-tone, dark-blue carpet, with a subtle pattern of tiny squares, muffled footsteps. Hicks opened the proceedings by explaining the charges against the two former county commissioners. (A third, Erin Kenny, has pleaded guilty and is helping the government; and a fourth, Lance Malone, will stand trial separately.)

Hicks excused several prospective jurors. One man didn't understand English. A hair stylist couldn't afford to miss work. A woman was committed to a weekly doctor's appointment for allergy shots. Another woman had to care for her elderly parents, and a fellow was going to have cataract surgery in a few weeks. And so it went.

At the defense table, the handsome Herrera wore a dark charcoal suit, and the matronly Kincaid-Chancey wore a purple suit.

Given that this is a trial about pulling strings to get things done, I was intrigued by the wall sculpture just a few feet from the courtroom. It was an assembly of copper wire depicting a marionette. It was entitled, "Pulling the Strings."

With lunchtime approaching, I decided to visit the Pizza Expo.

I saw a $30,000, flame-heated turntable that can cook 60 pizzas an hour, nibbled on patented mozzarella cheese made with whole-grain rice, and inspected a delivery truck that can maintain pizzas at 190 degrees. It looked to me like one of those compartmentalized dog-pound vehicles.

I asked David Gray, a franchise operations manager for Little Caesars, what he found most fascinating at the trade show. He said he was amazed that pizzas can be assembled and cooked robotically (not that he would ever do that).

My favorite booth was Seville Imports, where Dave Katzuba displayed three gallons of olives in a gigantic, five-liter martini glass. When anyone wisecracked about a martini, Dave reached for an atomizer filled with gin and sprayed an olive or two.

I never made it back to the courtroom.