The wild goose chase is an occupational hazard of journalism, and some of us are more susceptible than others. Some of us, and I count myself in their number, can get a little obsessed.

On Wednesday, the following, datelined Paris, appeared in the International Herald Tribune newspaper, which is the global edition of The New York Times: "Harry Rosenbaum, a 24-year-old student from Madison, Wis., was arrested in front of a bookshop at 30 boulevard Saint-Michel Friday night and charged with the theft of a book, it became known yesterday."

It was not just any book that the student from Madison was accused of ripping off, either. It was a book that created an international sensation. Rosenbaum, the student, was so incensed with his arrest that he felt like kicking off an international incident of his own. He took his case to the American consulate in Paris.

Here 's the kicker: The story first appeared in the International Herald Tribune on July 2, 1933.

It appeared again this Wednesday under the headline: "In Our Pages, 75 Years Ago." The secondary headline read: "1933: American Jailed in Paris."

Reading it this week, I immediately was filled with questions: Who was Rosenbaum? Was he a UW-Madison student or a native of Madison? Had he really tried to steal a copy of "Lady Chatterley's Lover," the notorious 1928 D.H. Lawrence novel that was banned in the United States until 1959?

And more: What became of Rosenbaum after his brush with scandal in Paris? Did he come back to Madison? Might he still be alive? Unlikely, since he would be 99 today, but not impossible.

There was a little more information in the International Herald Tribune, which is an esteemed paper that has often served as a lifeline for Americans traveling abroad. It was founded in 1887 as the European edition of the New York Herald, and has had several ownership changes over the years. Recently it was jointly owned by The Washington Post and The New York Times; today it is the sole property of the Times.

According to the Herald Tribune, Rosenbaum was in the company of his wife when he was apprehended outside the bookstore. He had spent the previous year studying anatomy at Freiburg University in Germany (Freiburg and Madison became sister cities in 1988). Rosenbaum, the Herald Tribune reported, "hopes to study at the Pasteur Institute here for a time before returning to the United States."

The story said that after his arrest, Rosenbaum spent a night in a cell at the Odeon quarter commissariat, or police station.

On his release the next morning, the Herald Tribune reported, "he went immediately to the American consulate to report the case, protesting at what he called unjust treatment." Rosenbaum said he was "a victim of a misunderstanding."

The novel Rosenbaum was accused of stealing adds some sizzle to the story. "Lady Chatterley's Lover," a tale of an adulterous love affair told in language bold for the times, was published in Italy in 1928. The U.S. postmaster banned the novel, claiming it promoted "indecent and lascivious thoughts." In 1959, the novel was published here by Grove Press and the courts ruled it was not obscene.

I spent much of Wednesday and Thursday surfing the Internet and making phone calls trying to learn more about Harry Rosenbaum. This is, as I say, an occasional occupational hazard. Seven years ago, I became intent on trying to find a Beloit woman named Gregg Sherwood, after reading in biographies of Joe DiMaggio and Dean Martin that she had dated both men.

That search took months. Born Dora Mae Fjelstad in 1924, she grew up in Beloit and changed her name to Gregg Sherwood after winning the Miss Wisconsin pageant and moving to New York. She became a showgirl, dated celebrities, was on the cover of TV Guide, acted in movies, married money -- notably automotive heir Horace Dodge Jr. -- spent all the money and more, and landed in Palm Beach. That 's where I finally found her, by telephone, one Sunday afternoon in 2001. We had a nice chat after she overcame her surprise at being called from Wisconsin.

My search for Harry Rosenbaum is not off to a promising start. The Madison library had no record of him in the city directories from the 1930s, nor did the registrar 's office at UW-Madison. Still, he lived here, or so he told the Paris police. Maybe someone reading this knows something.

It appears Harry Rosenbaum was the kind of guy who tried to do the right thing. The Herald Tribune reported that when he got out of jail, he returned to the bookstore and offered to pay for the book, but the store declined: "The management did not consider the price of the book sufficient indemnity for the commotion."

Sounds kind of snooty to me. Until I hear otherwise, I'm siding with Harry.

Contact Doug Moe at 608-252-6446 or dmoe@madison.com.