http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-0703250359mar25-archive,0,3329878,full.story

The not-so-simple story of Barack Obama's youth
-----------------------------------------------

   By Kirsten Scharnberg and Kim Barker, Tribune correspondents. Tribune
   staff reporter Ray Gibson contributed to this report
   March 25, 2007

   The  life  stories, when the presidential candidate tells them, have a
   common theme: the quest to belong.

   A  boy  wants  to  find  his  place  in  a  family where he is visibly
   different: chubby where others are thin, dark where others are light.
   A youth living in a distant land searches and finds new friends, a new
   language and a heartbreaking lesson about his identity in the pages of
   an American magazine.

   A  young  black  man  struggles  for  acceptance  at an institution of
   privilege,  where  he finds himself growing so angry and disillusioned
   at the world around him that he turns to alcohol and drugs.

   These have been the stories told about the first two character-shaping
   decades of U.S. Sen. Barack Obama
   's  life,  a story line largely shaped by his own best-selling memoir,
   political speeches and interviews.

   But the reality of Obama's narrative is not that simple.
   More  than 40 interviews with former classmates, teachers, friends and
   neighbors in his childhood homes of Hawaii and Indonesia, as well as a
   review  of  public  records,  show the arc of Obama's personal journey
   took  him  to places and situations far removed from the experience of
   most Americans.

   At  the  same  time,  several  of his oft-recited stories may not have
   happened  in  the  way  he has recounted them. Some seem to make Obama
   look  better in the retelling, others appear to exaggerate his outward
   struggles  over  issues  of race, or simply skim over some of the most
   painful, private moments of his life.

   The  handful  of black students who attended Punahou School in Hawaii,
   for  instance,  say  they  struggled  mightily with issues of race and
   racism there. But absent from those discussions, they say, was another
   student then known as Barry Obama.

   In  his  best-selling  autobiography,  "Dreams  from My Father," Obama
   describes  having heated conversations about racism with another black
   student,  "Ray."  The real Ray, Keith Kakugawa, is half black and half
   Japanese.  In an interview with the Tribune on Saturday, Kakugawa said
   he  always  considered himself mixed race, like so many of his friends
   in Hawaii, and was not an angry young black man.

   He  said  he  does recall long, soulful talks with the young Obama and
   that  his friend confided his longing and loneliness. But those talks,
   Kakugawa  said, were not about race. "Not even close," he said, adding
   that Obama was dealing with "some inner turmoil" in those days.
   "But it wasn't a race thing," he said. "Barry's biggest struggles then
   were  missing  his parents. His biggest struggles were his feelings of
   abandonment. The idea that his biggest struggle was race is [bull]."
   Then  there's  the  copy  of  Life magazine that Obama presents as his
   racial  awakening  at  age  9. In it, he wrote, was an article and two
   accompanying  photographs  of  an  African-American man physically and
   mentally scarred by his efforts to lighten his skin. In fact, the Life
   article  and  the  photographs  don't  exist,  say  the magazine's own
   historians.

   Some of these discrepancies are typical of childhood memories -- fuzzy
   in specifics, warped by age, shaped by writerly license. Others almost
   certainly illustrate how carefully the young man guarded the secret of
   his  loneliness  from  even  those who knew him best. And the accounts
   bear  out  much of Obama's self-portrait as someone deeply affected by
   his  father's  abandonment  yet  able  to  thrive in greatly disparate
   worlds.

   Still,  the  story  of  his  early  years  highlights how politics and
   autobiography  are  similar  creatures:  Each  is  shaped  to  serve a
   purpose.

   In  its  reissue  after  he gave the keynote address at the Democratic
   convention in 2004, "Dreams from My Father" joined a long tradition of
   political memoirs that candidates have used to introduce themselves to
   the American people.

   From  his  earliest moments on the national political stage, Obama has
   presented  himself  as  having  two  unique  qualifications:  a  fresh
   political  face  and an ability to bridge the gap between Americans of
   different  races,  faiths and circumstances. Among his supporters, his
   likability  and  credibility  have only been boosted by his stories of
   being an outsider trying to fight his way in.

   As  much  as  he may have felt like an outsider at times, Obama rarely
   seemed  to  show  it.  Throughout  his youth, as depicted in his first
   book,  he  always  found ways to meld into even the most uninviting of
   communities.  He  learned  to  adapt  to  unfamiliar territory. And he
   frequently  made  peace--even allies--with the very people who angered
   him most.

   Yet  even  Obama  has  acknowledged  the  limits  of  memoir. In a new
   introduction  to  the  reissued edition of "Dreams," he noted that the
   dangers  of writing an autobiography included "the temptation to color
   events  in  ways favorable to the writer ... [and] selective lapses of
   memory."

   He added: "I can't say that I've avoided all, or any, of these hazards
   successfully."

   Life without a father

   It was a complicated time.

   Hawaii  had  become  a  state only two years before Obama's birth, and
   there  were  plenty of native Hawaiians still deeply unhappy about it.
   The U.S. military was expanding on the island of Oahu, home to the new
   capital  of  Honolulu.  And  a young, iconoclastic white woman who had
   defied  the  social  mores  of the day by marrying a dashing black man
   from  Kenya  was coping with the fact that her new husband essentially
   had abandoned her and their young child in 1963 to study at Harvard.
   Oblivious  to all of this was a perpetually smiling toddler the entire
   family  called Barry. In snapshots, the boy is a portrait of childhood
   bliss. He played on the beach. He posed in lifeguard stands. He rode a
   bright  blue tricycle with red, white and blue streamers dangling from
   the handlebars.

   In  the  six  weeks since Obama announced his intention to run for the
   White   House,   he  routinely  has  suggested  that  his  diverse
   background--raised  for  a  time in the Third World, schooled at elite
   institutions  and  active in urban politics--makes him the best-suited
   candidate  to  speak  to  rich  and  poor, black and white, mainstream
   voters and those utterly disenchanted with the political system.

   Not as well known is the fact that the many people who raised him were
   nearly  as  diverse  as  the  places  where  he grew up. There was his
   mother, Ann, a brilliant but impulsive woman; his grandmother Madelyn,
   a deeply private and stoically pragmatic Midwesterner; his grandfather
   Stanley,  a  loving  soul  inclined  toward tall tales and unrealistic
   dreams.

   "Looking  back  now,  I'd  say  he  really  is  kind  of  the  perfect
   combination  of  all  of them," said his half sister, Maya Soetoro-Ng.
   "All  of them were imperfect but all of them loved him fiercely, and I
   believe he took the best qualities from each of them."

   During  her  son's earliest years, Obama's mother, whose full name was
   Stanley  Ann  Dunham  because  her father desperately had wished for a
   boy,  attended  college  at  the  University  of  Hawaii. Known as Ann
   throughout  her  adult life, she kept to herself. She became estranged
   from  her  husband,  Barack Obama Sr., after his departure for Harvard
   and  rarely  saw  the  group  of  friends  that  they  had made at the
   University of Hawaii.

   One of those friends, Neil Abercrombie, then a graduate student in
   the sociology department, frequently would see young Obama around town
   with his grandfather Stanley, whom Obama called "Gramps."
   "Stanley  loved  that  little boy," said Abercrombie, now a Democratic
   congressman  from Hawaii. "In the absence of his father, there was not
   a  kinder,  more  understanding man than Stanley Dunham. He was loving
   and generous."

   A  close  friend of Obama's from their teenage years, Greg Orme, spent
   so  much  time  with  Dunham  that  he, too, called him "Gramps." Orme
   recalled  that  years  later, at Obama's wedding reception in Chicago,
   Obama  brought  the  crowd  to  tears  when  he  spoke of his recently
   deceased  maternal  grandfather  and  how he made a little boy with an
   absent father feel as though he was never alone.

   Madelyn  Dunham,  a  rising  executive  at  the  Bank of Hawaii during
   Obama's  Punahou days, was more reserved but seemed to love having her
   grandson's friends over to play and hang out.
   "Those  were  robust years full of energy and cacophony, and she loved
   all  of  it,"  Soetoro-Ng said of her grandmother, who has lived alone
   since her husband died in 1992.

   Ann  and the boy lived with the Dunhams in Honolulu until Obama was 6.
   Then  his  young  mother,  now divorced, met and married an Indonesian
   student studying at the University of Hawaii.

   In  one  family  photo  before  the mother and son moved to Indonesia,
   Obama  walks  barefoot  on  Waikiki Beach, arms outstretched as though
   embracing  the entire beautiful life around him. The sailboat the Manu
   Kai (bird of the sea, in English) is about to set sail behind him.
   Obama, too, was about to journey far from these familiar shores.
   Memories of a racial awakening?

   Obama  has  told the story--one of the watershed moments of his racial
   awareness--time and again, in remarkable detail.

   He  is 9 years old, living in Indonesia, where he and his mother moved
   with her new husband, Lolo Soetoro, a few years earlier. One day while
   visiting  his  mother, who was working at the U.S. Embassy in Jakarta,
   Obama  passed time by looking through several issues of Life magazine.
   He came across an article that he later would describe as feeling like
   an "ambush attack."

   The  article included photos of a black man who had destroyed his skin
   with  powerful  chemical  lighteners  that promised to make him white.
   Instead,  the  chemicals  had peeled off much of his skin, leaving him
   sad and scarred, Obama recalled.
   "I  imagine  other  black  children,  then and now, undergoing similar
   moments  of  revelation,"  Obama  wrote  of  the  magazine  photos  in
   "Dreams."

   Yet  no  such  Life  issue  exists,  according  to  historians  at the
   magazine.  No  such  photos,  no  such  article.  When asked about the
   discrepancy,  Obama said in a recent interview, "It might have been an
   Ebony  or  it  might  have  been  ...  who knows what it was?" (At the
   request  of  the Tribune, archivists at Ebony searched their catalogue
   of past articles, none of which matched what Obama recalled.)
   In  fact,  it  is  surprising,  based on interviews with more than two
   dozen people who knew Obama during his nearly four years in Indonesia,
   that it would take a photograph in a magazine to make him conscious of
   the  fact that some people might treat him differently in part because
   of the color of his skin.

   Obama,  who  has talked and written so much about struggling to find a
   sense  of  belonging  due to his mixed race, brushes over this time of
   his  life  in  "Dreams."  He describes making friends easily, becoming
   fluent  in Indonesian in just six months and melding quite easily into
   the very foreign fabric of Jakarta.

   The reality was less tidy.

   Obama  and  his  mother  joined  her new husband, a kind man who later
   would become a detached heavy drinker and womanizer, family members in
   Indonesia  say.  Their  Jakarta  neighborhood resembled a village more
   than  the  bustling  metropolis  the  city  is  today. Electricity had
   arrived only a couple of years earlier. Half the homes were old bamboo
   huts;  half,  including  the  Soetoro house, were nicer, with brick or
   concrete and red-tiled roofs.

   Former playmates remember Obama as "Barry Soetoro," or simply "Barry,"
   a  chubby  little boy very different from the gangly Obama people know
   today.  All  say  he  was  teased  more  than  any  other  kid  in the
   neighborhood--primarily because he was bigger and had black features.
   He  was the only foreign child in the neighborhood. He also was one of
   the  only  neighborhood  children  whose parents enrolled him in a new
   Catholic  school  in an area populated almost entirely by Betawis, the
   old  tribal  landowning  Jakarta  natives  who  were  very traditional
   Muslims.  Some of the Betawi children threw rocks at the open Catholic
   classrooms, remembered Cecilia Sugini Hananto, who taught Obama in 2nd
   grade.

   Teachers,  former  playmates  and friends recall a boy who never fully
   grasped  their  language  and  who was very quiet as a result. But one
   word  Obama  learned  quickly  in his new home was curang, which means
   "cheater."

   When  kids  teased  him,  Obama  yelled back, "Curang, curang!" When a
   friend gave him shrimp paste instead of chocolate, he yelled, "Curang,
   curang!"

   Zulfan  Adi  was  one  of  the neighborhood kids who teased Obama most
   mercilessly.  He  remembers  one  day  when  young Obama, a hopelessly
   upbeat boy who seemed oblivious to the fact that the older kids didn't
   want  him tagging along, followed a group of Adi's friends to a nearby
   swamp.

   "They  held  his hands and feet and said, `One, two, three,' and threw
   him  in  the  swamp,"  recalled Adi, who still lives in the same house
   where he grew up. "Luckily he could swim. They only did it to Barry."
   The  other  kids would scrap with him sometimes, but because Obama was
   bigger and better-fed than many of them, he was hard to defeat.
   "He  was  built  like a bull. So we'd get three kids together to fight
   him,"  recalled Yunaldi Askiar, 45, a former neighborhood friend. "But
   it was only playing."

   Obama  has  claimed  on  numerous  occasions  to have become fluent in
   Indonesian  in six months. Yet those who knew him disputed that during
   recent interviews.

   Israella   Pareira  Darmawan,  Obama's  1st-grade  teacher,  said  she
   attempted  to  help  him  learn  the Indonesian language by going over
   pronunciation  and vowel sounds. He struggled greatly with the foreign
   language, she said, and with his studies as a result.
   The  teacher,  who  still lives in Obama's old neighborhood, remembers
   that  he  always sat in the back corner of her classroom. "His friends
   called  him `Negro,'" Darmawan said. The term wasn't considered a slur
   at the time in Indonesia.

   Still,   all  of  his  teachers  at  the  Catholic  school  recognized
   leadership  qualities  in him. "He would be very helpful with friends.
   He'd  pick  them  up  if they fell down," Darmawan recalled. "He would
   protect the smaller ones."

   Third-grade  teacher  Fermina Katarina Sinaga, now 67, has perhaps the
   most  telling  story.  In  an essay about what he wanted to be when he
   grew up, Obama "wrote he wanted to be president," Sinaga recalled. "He
   didn't say what country he wanted to be president of. But he wanted to
   make everybody happy."

   When  Obama  was  in  4th  grade,  the Soetoro family moved. Their new
   neighborhood  was  only  3  miles to the west, but a world away. Elite
   Dutch  colonists  once lived there; the Japanese moved in during their
   occupation of Indonesia in World War II. In the early 1970s, diplomats
   and Indonesian businessmen lived there in fancy gated houses with wide
   paved roads and sculpted bushes.

   Obama  never  became  terribly  close  with  the  children  of the new
   school--this  time  a predominantly Muslim one--where he was enrolled.
   As  he  had at the old school, Obama sat in a back corner. He sketched
   decidedly American cartoon characters during class.
   "He liked drawing Spider-Man and Batman," said another friend,
   Widiyanto Hendro Cahyono, 46. "Barry liked to draw heroes."
   Then, one day about a year after he had arrived, Obama was gone.
   "Suddenly  we  asked,  `Where's  Barry?'" remembered Ati Kisjanto, 45.
   "And we were told he had already moved away."

   Not one of `the brothers'

   As  much  as  young  Obama  stood  out physically in the classrooms of
   Indonesia,  so,  too, did he at Punahou School, the elite private prep
   academy his mother moved him back to Hawaii to attend.

   Obama,  his  mother  and  new  baby  sister,  Maya, moved into a small
   apartment near the school's sprawling, lush campus. And from the first
   day  of 5th grade right up until his graduation in 1979, the young man
   was  one  of only a small number of black students at a school heavily
   populated  by the children of Hawaii's wealthy, most of them white and
   Asian.

   Then  and  now,  Punahou  and  Hawaii  liked to see themselves as more
   diverse  and  colorblind  than the rest of the nation. But the reality
   felt  far  different  for  the  handful of African-Americans attending
   classes there.

   Rik  Smith,  a  black  Punahou  student  two  years  older than Obama,
   remembers  a  Halloween when white students would dress as slaves,
   coming  to  school  in tattered clothes with their faces painted black
   with  shoe  polish.  "Like  being  black was a funny costume in and of
   itself," recalled Smith, now a doctor who specializes in geriatrics in
   California.

   "Punahou was an amazing school," Smith said. "But it could be a lonely
   place.  ...  Those  of us who were black did feel isolated--there's no
   question about that."

   As  a  result,  the  handful  of  black students at Punahou informally
   banded   together.   "The   brothers,"   as   Lewis  Anthony  Jr.,  an
   African-American in the class of 1977 put it, hung out together, often
   talking  about issues involving race and civil rights. They sought out
   parties,  especially  at  the  military  bases  on  the  island, where
   African-Americans would be in attendance.

   Obama, however, was not a part of that group, according to Anthony and
   Smith.  Both  of them seemed surprised to hear that in "Dreams"--which
   neither  of  them  had  read--Obama  writes  about  routinely going to
   parties  at  Schofield  Barracks  and other military bases in order to
   hang out with "Ray," who like Anthony and Smith was two years ahead of
   him in school.

   "We'd  all do things together, but Obama was never there," Smith said,
   adding   that   they   often   brought   along  the  few  other  black
   underclassmen.  "I went to those parties up at Schofield but never saw
   him at any of them."

   Obama  devotes many words in his book to exploring his outsider status
   at Punahou. But any struggles he was experiencing were obscured by the
   fact  that  he  had  a racially diverse group of friends--many of whom
   often  would  crowd  into  his  grandparents' apartment, near Punahou,
   after school let out.

   One of those kids was Orme, a smart, respectful teenager from a white,
   middle-class  family. Though Orme spent most afternoons with Obama and
   considered him one of his closest friends, he said Obama never brought
   up issues of race, never talked about feeling out of place at Punahou.
   "He  never  verbalized  any  of  that,"  Orme  said during a telephone
   interview from his home in Oregon. "He was a very provocative thinker.
   He  would  bring  up worldly topics far beyond his years. But we never
   talked race."

   Whatever  misgivings Obama had about Punahou, attending the school was
   largely his decision.

   When  his  mother, a woman said to have been born with a keen sense of
   wanderlust,  announced  she  was returning to Indonesia, Obama, then a
   teenager,  asked  to  stay in Hawaii, according to Soetoro-Ng, 36, who
   still  lives  in Honolulu. Once again, Stanley and Madelyn Dunham, who
   had  been  as  much parents as grandparents throughout the young man's
   life, said he could live with them.

   "I  don't  imagine the decision to let him stay behind was an easy one
   for  anyone," Soetoro-Ng said. "But he wanted to remain at Punahou. He
   had  friends  there,  he  was comfortable there, and to a kid his age,
   that's all that mattered."

   One  place  Obama  has  said  he found a sense of community was on the
   basketball court. A member of the varsity squad, though not a starter,
   Obama  and  his  teammates  brought  Punahou the state championship in
   1979, his senior year.

   Adept at nailing long jump shots, Obama was called "Barry O'Bomber" by
   teammates.  Alan  Lum,  who  later  would coach the basketball team at
   Punahou  as  well  as teach elementary school there, recalled Obama as
   always  being the first to confront coaches when he felt they were not
   fairly allotting playing time.

   Obama  wasn't  shy  about advocating for himself and his fellow backup
   players,  Lum  said.  "He'd go right up to the coach during a game and
   say,  `Coach,  we're  killing  this  team. Our second string should be
   playing more.'"

   But it was on the court in the off-season that Obama seemed to be even
   happier. Back then, Punahou was a completely open campus, with several
   basketball  courts  where 20-something men from Honolulu would come in
   the   late  afternoon  for  what  often  turned  into  flashy,  highly
   competitive pickup sessions. Many of the men were black.
   Orme would stay for the games.

   "At  the  time,  it was about basketball," said Orme, who has remained
   friends  with  Obama  over the years and who plays basketball with him
   almost every

   Christmas  when the two return to Hawaii to visit family. "But looking
   back  now  I can see he was seeking more from those guys than that. He
   was  probably  studying  them and learning from them. He was a younger
   black man looking for guidance."

   Old friend disputes memoir.

   Every  senior graduating from Punahou gets to design a quarter-page in
   the  yearbook.  They  compose  notes to friends and family and include
   photos or quotes that best represent them.

   On  page 271 of the 1979 Oahuan, Obama's entry reflects the crossroads
   he  found himself at as he prepared for life beyond Hawaii. He thanked
   "Tut  and  Gramps,"  his nicknames for Madelyn and Stanley Dunham, but
   didn't mention his faraway mother.

   He  also thanked the "Choom Gang," a reference to "chooming," Hawaiian
   slang for smoking marijuana. Obama admits in "Dreams" that during high
   school  he  frequently  smoked  marijuana,  drank  alcohol,  even used
   cocaine occasionally.

   "Junkie.  Pothead. That's where I'd been headed: the final, fatal role
   of the young would-be black man," Obama wrote in "Dreams."

   In  the  book, Obama discusses race and racism at his high school with
   one  other  Punahou  student,  "Ray," the young black man described in
   detail in "Dreams" as perpetually angry at the white world around him.
   "It's  their  world, all right," Ray supposedly shouts at Obama. "They
   own it and we in it. So just get the f--- outta my face."

   But  Kakugawa, in the interview Saturday, said Obama's recollection of
   that  conversation  was  mistaken. "I did say we were playing in their
   world,"  he  explained, "but that had nothing to do with race. He knew
   that."

   Kakugawa explained that he had meant they were playing in the world of
   the  elite  people  who  populated  and  ran  Punahou--famous Hawaiian
   families  like  the  Doles,  owners  of  the pineapple fortune, or the
   original  developers  of Waikiki, the tourist mecca. "It just wasn't a
   race thing," he reiterated again and again.

   Obama  confirmed  in  an  interview  earlier  this  month that the Ray
   character in "Dreams" actually is Kakugawa.

   In  another  passage  from  the book, Ray complains that white Punahou
   girls  don't  want  to date black guys and that he and Obama don't get
   enough  playing  time as athletes, speculating that they'd be "treated
   different  if  we  was  white.  Or  Japanese.  Or Hawaiian. Or f------
   Eskimo."

   But  Kakugawa, a convicted drug felon, said Saturday that he had never
   been  the  "prototypical angry black guy" that Obama portrays. Because
   of  his biracial heritage, he said, he was "like everyone in Hawaii, a
   mix of a lot of things."

   A  close  friend and track teammate of Kakugawa, John Hagar, also said
   he  was surprised by Obama's description of the character representing
   Kakugawa  as  an  angry  young black man. "I never picked up on that,"
   Hagar  said.  "He  was  just  one  of  those perfect [ethnic] mixes of
   everything you see in Hawaii."

   Asked  Saturday  about  Kakugawa's  recollections,  the Obama campaign
   declined to make the senator available. But spokesman Bill Burton said
   Obama  "stands  by his recollections of these events as related in his
   book."

   "There's no doubt that Keith's story is tragic and sad," Burton added.
   While  Obama  rocketed to political prominence, his friend headed down
   the  troubled  road  Obama  had  feared  he was following. Since 1995,
   Kakugawa  has spent more than 7 years in California prisons and months
   in Los Angeles County Jail on cocaine and auto theft charges.

   Another  story put forth in "Dreams" as one of Obama's pivotal moments
   of  racial  awakening  checks  out  essentially  as he wrote it. Obama
   recounts taking two white friends, including Orme, to a party attended
   almost entirely by African-Americans.

   According  to the book, the characters representing Orme and the other
   friend  asked  to leave the party after just an hour, saying they felt
   out  of  place.  The  night, Obama later wrote, made him furious as he
   realized that whites held a "fundamental power" over blacks.
   "One of us said that being the different guys in the room had awakened

   a  little  bit of empathy to what he must feel all the time at school.
   And  he  clearly  didn't  appreciate  that," Orme said. "I never knew,
   until reading the book later, how much that night had upset him."
   As  Obama's  senior  year drew to a close, his mother sent him letters
   from  afar, about life in Indonesia and her work there with non-profit
   groups  doing  economic  development.  She  also sent advice about his
   future.  College  would  be  his next stop. She mixed encouragement to
   keep up his grades with laments about American politics.

   "It  is  a shame we have to worry so much about [grade point], but you
   know  what the college entrance competition is these days," she wrote.
   "Did you know that in Thomas Jefferson's day, and right up through
   the  1930s,  anybody who had the price of tuition could go to Harvard?
   ... I don't see that we are producing many Thomas Jeffersons nowadays.
   Instead we are producing Richard Nixons."

   In  the spring of 1979, Obama's mother and Maya, Barack's younger half
   sister  by  almost  nine  years,  flew  to  Hawaii for his high school
   graduation.  If  young Obama had struggled to find a place at Punahou,
   it  was  well  hidden  on  this  day as well. He laughed and posed for
   photos with friends.

   With  a  trimmed Afro, Hawaiian flower leis around his neck, Obama was
   surrounded  by  the  disparate  people who shaped him. In one photo he
   hugs his beaming sister.

   In  a  striking snapshot with his grandparents, Stanley smiles proudly
   while Madelyn hugs him fiercely, as though she doesn't want to let him
   go  forth into a world far from the remote island that for so long had
   been his home.
   ----------
   Kirsten Scharnberg reported from Honolulu and Kim Barker from Jakarta,
   Indonesia;  Tribune  staff  reporter  Ray  Gibson  contributed to this
   report.
   kscharnberg@tribune.com
   kbarker@tribune.com