Tom Gorman writes about the perks of no longer writing a column, including a much cooler car

Sunday, May 7, 2006 | 9:06 a.m.

Because it's starting to heat up outside, I decided to change jobs at the Sun. (You might have noticed my column hasn't been in the paper on its usual days.)

So here's the explanation, which may take you deeper into the world of journalism than you intended to go today.

I joined the Sun's staff last fall because I was thrilled with the idea of creating a daily newspaper with a distribution arrangement unprecedented in the country. Where else can subscribers receive two competing newspapers, distributed together?

At my age and at this stage of my career - after 32 years at the Los Angeles Times as a state reporter, national correspondent and assistant metro editor - the opportunity to help create the new Sun in dynamic Las Vegas was too exciting to pass up.

I was given the option of being either an assistant managing editor or columnist.

My knee-jerk reaction was to be an editor, which I knew something about. But then my lovely wife, Jeanne, gave me a knee-jerk reaction to the ribs.

She reminded me that editors work long hours, helping shepherd newsroom reporters. Why not try your hand as a columnist? she asked. Explore Las Vegas, develop a voice and speak my mind.

So that was my decision and it was a fun gig.

But I was getting home so early compared to my days as an editor, Jeanne didn't know what to do with me. Instead of giving me honey-do lists just on the weekend, she started coming up with weekday lists. I certainly never had that in mind.

And something was lacking in my life. I missed being an editor, working with the young 'uns. I've been a journalist longer than some of the reporters in the newsroom have been alive. Editing would allow me to pass something along, to mentor, to teach. These are feel-good objectives for a fellow in his 50s.

Besides, an editor doesn't stress about ideas for a column three times a week. Instead, he can suggest stories to reporters and offer guidance on how to report and write the story (which are two distinctly different talents).

The editor can then work with the reporter in polishing the final product, make sure questions are answered and the story is written well. An editor lives vicariously through his young charges. And becoming a Sun editor would resolve another issue at work.

When I first arrived, I hoped for a covered parking spot. I've lived through Las Vegas summers before, and remember leaving patches of my fingers on the steering wheel.

But I was told those spots were reserved for editors and reporters with seniority. I was neither.

Well, winter has now turned into summer after two or three days of spring and I'm nervous about the heat.

Genius struck. How about trading the glory of having my handsome mug in the paper three times a week for a chance to park my Camry in shade?

I asked if I could become an editor, after all.

So that's what I'm doing now. Instead of working from 10 till 5 with long lunches, I'm at my desk at 8:30, am lucky to grab lunch across the street at Wendy's, and some days don't leave work until 7:30 or later. But I've had an invigorating day, working with reporters.

Jeanne is having to make adjustments, though. Because of when I get home now, she's not able to give me any honey-do lists. Jeanne looks up from her crossword puzzle, looks at her watch and glares at me over her glasses.

But she doesn't get it. Sure I'm working 11, 12 hours a day. But, heh heh, I've got a covered parking spot!

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