HARRISBURG - Inside a temporary cubicle in a state office building, Terry Mutchler is for the moment less concerned with prying open long-sealed government documents than she is with opening for business.

The state's new open public records czar is picking out chair colors and analyzing floor blueprints. She is combing resumes and conducting interviews.

"I feel like I'm getting married to something," she said, "but I'm not sure what."

For Mutchler, life these days is about building a state agency from scratch.

Since Gov. Rendell approved a new law in February to increase public access to government documents, Mutchler, 42, has been tasked with bringing the effort to fruition by Jan. 1 with the launch of the state's first Office of Open Records.

The office will act as the middleman between government and the people, mediating in disputes over which documents are public domain. And Mutchler, a reporter-turned-lawyer who will run the office for the next six years, will have to do so in a state that used to have one of the worst open-records laws in the nation.

So far, it hasn't been easy.

"My colleagues in the government don't trust me because I've been with the press, and the people in the press don't trust me because I'm with the government," said Mutchler, whose salary is $120,000. "I'm in this unique, weird bubble."

In some ways, the Poconos native finds herself in a familiar quagmire. The post she left earlier this year to come to Pennsylvania was as Illinois' public access counselor.

But Mutchler's new office in Pennsylvania is more than a governmental appointment. It is mandated by a new law propelled by independent reform advocates buzzing around the Capitol. And now their eyes are trained on her.

"What she does with that law over the next six months will determine how it is respected and interpreted by public officials from the Capitol to township supervisors," said Tim Potts, founder of Democracy Rising PA, one of the reform groups.

"It's that old saying: You don't get a second chance at a first impression."

Mutchler is trying to plant the seeds for that impression by crisscrossing the state to meet with government officials and media outlets.

So far, she says, she has found she has a long way to go to ensure that local governments - which must name a right-to-know officer under the new law - are ready to embrace the new brand of openness she represents.

"If I make a mistake, it's going to be on the side of openness," Mutchler said.

The state's new open records law essentially flips the burden of proof onto governmental agencies: Where reporters and citizens once had to make a case for obtaining government documents, government agencies now have to prove why records should be shielded from public view.

An aggressive training program that teaches public officials and citizens what the law means will be critical in cultivating an open government culture, said Bill Chamberlin, former director of the University of Florida's Citizen Access Project.

Additionally, he said, if Mutchler doesn't establish her political weight and get strong judicial backing in cases in which decisions are appealed, the law will lose its firmness.

Her background, at least, puts her in a good position to walk that tightrope.

By the time she was 10, all within earshot knew that Mutchler wanted to be a lawyer. But that changed when she arrived at Penn State in 1983.

"I got bit by the journalism bug," she said. She joined the college newspaper, and within a month had switched from pre-law to journalism.

After college, her professional career became a whirlwind of locations and occupations. She worked for the Allentown Morning Call, and as a cub reporter, she once went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court to defend her right to a leaked police report. She arrived at the Associated Press's Harrisburg bureau in 1989, moved to Atlantic City with the organization in 1992, and later wound up as the AP's state Capitol bureau chief in Springfield, Ill.

It was there that her life changed upon meeting state Sen. Penny Severns, who ran for Illinois lieutenant governor in 1994. Mutchler said she fell in love with Severns and, worried that her emotions were potentially creeping into her livelihood, relocated to Alaska and continued with the AP.

"We wanted to end that situation as soon as possible," she said.

In Alaska, she decided to realize her childhood dream of becoming a lawyer. She returned to Illinois in 1995 to attend law school, and both work for and continue her relationship with Severns. Severns died of breast cancer in 1998. Mutchler finished law school the next year.

After practicing law privately and publicly, Mutchler was tapped by Illinois Attorney General Lisa Madigan in 2003 for the newly minted role of public access counselor.

Over time, Mutchler will leave her own mark in Pennsylvania, say those who know her.

Ann Spillane, chief of staff to the Illinois attorney general, said Mutchler's former office thrived on her stubborn forthrightness.

"There was a need for Terry and her staff to say, 'No, we're not going away,' " Spillane said.

Once Pennsylvania's office opens in January, Mutchler anticipates that the media will test the office with an initial wave of information requests. But after 18 months, she said she expects the vast majority of requests to be filed by citizens.

To help respond to those requests, she plans to assemble a staff of up to 10. She has already hired two.

"I want the best pool to do this, because I think we're going to be a very unpopular group," she said.

How the New Law Works

A resident requests a record from a government agency.

Within five days, although it may request a 30-day extension, the agency must respond with the record or an explanation as to why that record is not public.

If the agency denies the request, the citizen may contact the Office of Open Records, which then has 30 days to make a decision.

If the request is again denied, the citizen may appeal to a court within 30 days. The court will take into account the Office of Open Records' opinion.

If the court determines the document must be opened, the agency must comply or face a $500-per-day civil penalty until the records are opened.

If the court determines that the records were denied by the agency in bad faith, the court may fine the agency up to $1,500.