TOM DOHERTY: OH DAD, POOR DAD

True Lives

Is Every Man Everyman? Is Everyone a Story? We Drove Nails Into the Phone Book, and Went to Find Out.

There are eight million stories in the naked city.

That was the sign-off line for the 1948 movie "Naked City" and the TV series it spawned. It was an arresting premise: Everyone has a story to tell. All lives are interesting.

It makes for good fiction. Is it true?

On Monday, five writers each took a nail and hammered it into a phone book. Where the nail stopped, the writer started. That person would be the story, so long as he or she agreed to be interviewed.

We used phone directories for the District, Northern Virginia, and Prince George's and Montgomery counties. We used nails from Strosnider's. We used a hammer from Hechinger. We used the stories as we found them: Ordinary. Unembellished. Riveting.

They were hustling out of the house to get their picture taken -- a Doherty family portrait -- when somebody smelled something burning in the bathroom. Which was locked. From the inside. With nobody in there. Erin thought that maybe she'd left the curling iron on and maybe it had set something on fire.

Obviously, it was a job for Dad. Dad is Thomas Doherty. He takes care of stuff like this.

He told everybody to step back from the bathroom door, where they were standing and sniffing and speculating on exactly what might be burning. They stepped back and Dad raised his foot and gave the door a good, swift kick. It popped open and, sure enough, Erin had left the curling iron on.

So Dad had saved the day once again. But he wasn't celebrating. He was lying on his bed with a strange look on his face.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Patrick asked. "Are you mad?"