NBC plans 3,600 hours of television and Web coverage of this year's Olympics. That's 40 percent more broadcast time than was devoted to all previous games combined. So we can agree the events unfolding over the next 16 days in Beijing will be closely followed throughout the world.

But the Olympics are not just a source of national and international news. The games yield important local stories, as well.

Imagine a city worker charged with stealing but whose identity is protected until a court decides guilt or innocence. Or a teacher suspended for sharing obscene material in class but whose name is masked until school officials vet the accusations. Or a firefighter disciplined for using drugs on the job, with details hidden from the public until the case is appealed and resolved.

The scenarios are incredible. Citizens demand information about what their government does, as well as accountability from those who work for it. We expect names of public servants accused of misconduct or dereliction – whether they work in a cubicle, classroom or fire truck – and details of complaints against them. Open records laws in most states ensure public access at least to basic information in these cases.

These imagined situations of a public kept in the dark are not far fetched, however, if the decision of six Sullivan County, Ind., citizens is allowed to harden into precedent.

Economic pressures -- fuel prices, food costs, inflation and a bear market -- are dipping into charitable donations. An Associated Press story, published last week in The Salem News and elsewhere, cited a survey by the philanthropic group Giving USA that found a number of nonprofit groups are bracing for a drop in contributions this year.

Nonprofit groups are a force in U.S. politics. They may not fly a campaign's colors or mention a candidate by name, but "soft money" organizations clearly take sides and throw around their weight and money.

Despite journalism's many modern tools, shoe leather and determination are irreplaceable for digging out a story. And they are readily available to anyone, no matter the size of the news operation.

Janelle Stecklein and The Herald-Banner in Greenville, Texas, proved as much in February, with a lengthy story about a woman accused of drunk driving at the wheel of her boyfriend's patrol car before she crashed the cruiser into a tree.