Reporter-researchers, as their title implies, perform a variety of functions. Most of the time they work in New York gathering research materials, conducting interviews, and checking stories for accuracy. Sometimes they also go out to report in the field. Sport Reporter-Researcher Paul Witteman, 30, who came to TIME in 1972 after a year as a reporter in Pittsfield, Mass., and graduation from the Columbia School of Journalism, has landed a number of field assignments, but never an assignment quite like last week's. He was sent to Cincinnati to be on hand if Atlanta Braves Slugger Henry Aaron tied Babe Ruth's career home-run record. Witteman ended up seeing a lot more drama than he had bargained for.

Leaving the Cincinnati Riverfront Stadium the afternoon before the season's opening game. Witteman looked up to see a dark "funnel" looming in the distant sky. "At first I didn't know what it was," he recalled. By the next morning he learned that it was only one of many tornadoes that had smashed through eleven states (see THE NATION); the twisters had devastated half the city of Xenia, Ohio, only 60 miles away. Witteman called New York and was told to report on the Xenia tragedy--after the game.

That afternoon he was sitting in the stadium's press box, writing a file about the pre-game hoopla, when Aaron made history on his first time at bat (see SPORT). Witteman finished his file, interviewed Aaron's jubilant wife, father and brother, and then talked to Aaron himself. Afterward he sat down, wrote another file, and sent it off to New York.

It was well past 6 p.m., but Witteman's day was far from over. He picked up an identification sticker from the Red Cross, affixed it to his rented car, and drove through police roadblocks into Xenia. "I've never seen anything like it," he said. "It looked like a war had taken place. The whole town appeared leveled." He visited Xenia's disaster headquarters ("It was chaos") and arranged for a tour of the ruins in a police car. The human dimensions of the disaster were brought home to Witteman by the commentary of his escorts. As they drove through the desolate town, the policemen said "There's where so-and-so lives" and "There's where the McDonald's is"--while pointing at barren concrete slabs. "We drove down these darkened streets where there was nothing left," said Witteman. "I was numbed by the whole thing."

Witteman straggled back to his hotel at 1:30 a.m., wrote his third file of the day, and was at Western Union's door when it opened at 6 a.m. He had covered two of the week's biggest stories, both in one day. This week, Witteman was off to Atlanta to report further on Aaron's exploits--and who knows what else?

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