When I came to Chicago in 1966, television reporters like me were second-class citizens. People were still reading the paper to find out what was news. I kept hearing about this dive called the Billy Goat where all the print guys would go. So I’d stop in once in a while to rub elbows with “real” reporters. Now the tourists come in because they’ve seen the place on television, but if you go at the right times, it still feels like a local headquarters, like ground zero. Plus, it’s cozy and subterranean. Pretty good cheeseburgers, too.