With its older cross-town rival Roll Call, The Hill vies for the attention of those - lobbyists, lawmakers, pundits, congressional aides, campaign operatives, foreign representatives, and political junkies -- who want to know what's really going on behind the scenes in Washington.

A visit to the reception area of a senator's or congressman's office on Capitol Hill invariably turns up the same decor. On the walls there are pictures of the smiling lawmaker with luminaries, supporters, donors, school children, church groups, and anyone else who might cast a favorable light on the distinguished officeholder. And on the tables piled high with reading material, you'll find, alongside the latest editions of hometown newspapers, copies of Roll Call and The Hill.

To have become a Washington institution in such a short period of time is remarkable, especially for a publication whose creation was an afterthought. Back in 1994 publisher Jerry Finkelstein decided to add to his holdings and set out to purchase Roll Call, which for years had cornered the market on the political equivalent of inside baseball in Washington. But Roll Call's asking price, $14.5 million, was to steep, even for Finkelstein's deep pockets.

If he couldn't buy Roll Call, Finkelstein figured, he'd create its competitor. He immediately started looking for an editor to get the start-up off the ground. To be credible, the new kid on the block would have to have an editor savvy in the wondrous ways of Washington. His choice was veteran Washington journalist Marty Tolchin. But at 66, the New York Times correspondent wasn't interested in launching a second career, and he gave Finkelstein a polite, but firm turn-down. A few weeks later, he rejected a second, sweeter offer. But, after a third meeting with his determined suitor in New York, Tolchin, assisted in the negotiations by his attorney, Robert Barnett, finally consented to take over the helm at The Hill. The deal was sealed in June 1994.

The new weekly had start-up cash from Finkelstein as well as a publisher and editor-in-chief in Tolchin, but that's about all it had. Over the next several weeks, Tolchin oversaw the procurement of office space, furniture, and equipment. He arranged for a printer and a distributor and -- not the least of his tasks -- hired a staff.

On September 21, 1994, the first issue of The Hill rolled off the presses. Looking back, Tolchin, now 74, marvels at how quickly it all came together after he had agreed to come on board. It was an ordeal he's not eager to repeat.

Like so many Washingtonians, Marty Tolchin came from someplace else. In his case it was New York City's rough and tumble borough of Brooklyn. The son of a furrier, Tolchin found his way early in life to journalism. He spent 40 years with the New York Times, joining its Washington bureau in 1973. Tolchin immersed himself in the mysterious workings of Washington by covering Congress, the White House, and the city's alphabet soup of federal agencies. His work bore fruit in the form of numerous awards, including the Everett M. Dirksen Award for Distinguished Reporting on Congress.

Over the years, he has teamed up with his wife Susan to write six books focusing on the uses and misuses of power in Washington. Their book, "To the Victor: Political Patronage from the Clubhouse to the White House," has been cited in four US Supreme Court decisions. (Susan Tolchin teaches at George Mason University; several years ago, she wrote occasional paid columns for this publication's predecessor, The Earth Times, a conference newspaper. Martin Tolchin and Earthtimes's editor-in-chief, Pranay Gupte, worked at The New York Times in the mid-1970s.)

As a native New Yorker, Tolchin quickly learned that, for reporters, the rules of engagement in New York don't apply in Washington. In New York, he explains, "you're always on the outside looking in; in Washington, you're invited to the table." For a reporter trying to maintain a degree of objectivity, the consummate Washington hustle can be "very treacherous," he notes. "Everybody here has an agenda."

In a city where people are paid big bucks to use their influence to get things done, reporters are a prime target. Shmoozing them in the hopes of getting a friendly article placed or a juicy leak printed is part of the game. Yet for those whose street smarts keep them from being used, and who are willing to dig for the nugget buried beneath layers of obfuscation, Washington can pay big dividends.

According to Tolchin, The Hill's biggest scoop came in July 1997, when his paper broke the story that House Republicans had launched a coup to overthrow Speaker Newt Gingrich. In a flash, the story was picked up by major media outlets and was broadcast nationwide. A bloodied Gingrich survived the coup, and the embarrassing publicity that went along with it, only to be driven from the Speaker's chair by many of the same conspirators after the Republicans' disappointing showing in the 1998 midterm elections.

Earlier this year, The Hill chalked up another success when it revealed that 13 senators, Republicans and Democrats alike, had pressured Arthur Levitt, then-chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission, to abandon a proposed rule that would have barred accounting firms from doing both auditing and consulting work for the same client. In the aftermath of Enron Corporation's spectacular collapse, which also brought down its auditor, Arthur Andersen, The Hill's scoop took on particular significance. The 13 senators cited in the story could not have been pleased to see their pictures, in living color no less, prominently displayed on the paper's front page.

Both scoops are illustrative of the kind of investigative stories Tolchin encourages his reporters to write. Political intrigue and ethical lapses are fair game, but personal indiscretions (of which there is no shortage) are off limits. Stories involving questionable behavior by movers and shakers are carefully reviewed by libel lawyers to guard against lawsuits. Advertisements which are deemed inflammatory or in bad taste are not printed.

Tolchin's goal is to provide information on Congress that isn't available elsewhere. "If it's in the New York Times or the Washington Post, we're not interested," he explains. He intends to keep The Hill nonpartisan and nonideological; indeed, contrasting opinions are welcome. Lawmakers from both parties with axes to grind can plug their issues in op-eds and letters to the editor. Adding further spice to the mix, former Clinton political adviser Dick Morris and American Conservative Union President David Keene have regular columns in The Hill.

The formula has worked. Three years after it was founded, The Hill was in the black "and we haven't looked back," Tolchin says. Advertisements are by far the biggest revenue source. With a circulation of about 22,000, The Hill is standard fare not just in congressional offices, but also in the Executive Branch, lobbyists' offices, and embassies throughout the city. Subscribers to the colorful tabloid also include government agencies in Russia, Japan, China, and throughout the European Union.

In an effort to distinguish itself from its arch-rival, Roll Call, The Hill endeavors to go beyond the nitty-gritty of Washington politics. Book reviews, restaurant reviews, and political crossword puzzles regularly adorn its pages.

A recent issue featured a front-page story on Democrats' frustration with their leadership's failure to tie President Bush to the nation's sluggish economy. Another piece outlined House Republicans' problems in fashioning a budget at a time of growing deficits. After plowing through more items on such topics as the status of appropriations bills and the CIA's assessment of the terror threat to the US, the reader suddenly encounters an eight-page spread on the singles scene on Capitol Hill. In truth, the dating game is every bit as much a part of life on the hill as the next subcommittee hearing on veterans' benefits. By devoting ample attention to both, Tolchin's publication is giving the outside world a more complete picture of the unique universe that is Capitol Hill.

Most of The Hill's reporters are 20-somethings with that lean and hungry look, common among those who want to get ahead in the highly competitive world of journalism. Tolchin sees his paper as a "training ground with high visibility" for such people, with Washington serving as an inexhaustible source of tantalizing material. Reporters for The Hill have gone on to land positions at the Wall Street Journal, Baltimore Sun, Philadelphia Inquirer, New York, and other prestigious journals. As they move on, their places are quickly taken by those eager to make a name for themselves. Tolchin has a backlog of resumes to choose from and filling a position rarely takes more than a few days.

With 28 full-time employees on staff, Tolchin has his hands full just staying on top of things. Yet while most people his age are well into retirement, Tolchin is focused on making The Hill an even bigger player in Washington than it already is. Flush with cash from a new investor, Conrad Black, The Hill will be expanding its coverage in the months to come. Marty Tolchin plans to oversee the expansion just as he presided over the paper's launch eight years ago.

Why stick around long after he has achieved financial security?

"This is a great beat," he answers.