Women behind the editor’s desk
Years ago, it wasn’t the done thing for women to run newspapers. But that didn’t stop them, writes Tina White.
In the New Zealand of 1916 it wasn’t quite respectable for a woman to be editor and manager of a newspaper. But to Mabel Grant, the running of a press and the discipline of deadlines were as familiar as old friends.
For years, her family’s life in the Tararua town of Woodville – a scenic carriage-trot through the Manawatu¯ Gorge from Palmerston North – had revolved around the publishing of its newspaper, the Woodville Examiner.
The Grant family were musical and well-read. Editor John Grant, Mabel’s father, formerly manager of the Bruce Herald, was a genial Scotsman, a local sportsman, singer and violinist at community concerts. Mabel and her mother were both keen pianists.
The Grants had lived in Woodville for 25 years, and John Grant had been editor/manager of the Examiner since 1900, also running side businesses in lithography, bookbinding, rubber stamp-making, and printing.
When World War I broke out, two of his sons, Desmond and Noel, signed up for the front; two others, practising solicitors, were working in Napier and in South Africa.
Then, in 1916, to the family’s shock, big John Grant died. Up stepped Mabel. She would run the newspaper in his stead. She became editor and manager.
Mabel ‘‘was engaged to a Woodville farmer for a time, but decided not to marry because of her commitment to the business’’, writes Ian F Grant (no relation), author of the absorbing 2018 book Lasting Impressions: The story of New Zealand’s newspapers, 1840-1920. Mabel’s is just one of the many stories in his meticulously researched history; while most of its characters were notable men, there were also female journalists who made their mark, one way or another.
Take Ethel Jacobson, 26 years old and teaching in Nelson when her unwell father, a dominating character, called her back to help run the Akaroa Mail. Before long, she was in fact, if not in name, the editor.
She is quoted: ‘‘When I started off, most people really meant it when they told women they had no brains. One day, soon after I took over, I met a prominent resident who said, ‘Do tell your father how much I enjoyed that article of his. I knew he must have written it because it was so good.’ I smiled and assured him my father would be delighted that the article had been so well received.’’
In 1911, Ethel’s brother Bill, a decade younger, joined her. He looked after the business side of the work and they had a staff of four in the printing department. When the paper was finally sold, Grant writes, ‘‘Ethel Jacobson was in her mid70s and still in charge after nearly 50 years, but it was her brother who was normally credited for the excellence of the Akaroa Mail’s reporting.
‘‘She appeared to accept this with an
‘‘When I started off, most people really meant it when they told women they had no brains.’’ Ethel Jacobson, pictured, who was in charge of the Akaroa Mail for almost 50 years.
equanimity unlikely a century later, and devoted what spare time she had to the Akaroa Women’s Institute, Horticultural Society and the garden at the family’s small holding in Rue Balguerie. She died there in June, 1965.’’
Another unsung heroine was Flora Baldwin, who in the late 1880s fought to help clear the name of her husband, journalist John Baldwin, proprietor of Gisborne’s Poverty Bay Independent, who was being accused of libelling the harbour board secretary. Flora was the Independent’s compositor and, on occasion, described as publisher and editor.
In August 1888, John Baldwin went on trial for criminal libel. Grant says there was some confusion about subsequent events, with one author claiming Baldwin was sentenced to 18 months in jail in Napier, where he died on Christmas Day.
The Daily Telegraph reported that the sentence was actually six months, and the Feilding Star stated that Baldwin died ‘‘owing to ill health’’ at home, after being released.
Flora raised her voice on behalf of her husband’s integrity. The New Zealand Observer ran a campaign supporting ‘‘the martyred journalist’’, and helped raise money for the family. Public sympathy ran high. Wellington’s
Weekly Herald opened a donation list for the Baldwin children.
Typo, a monthly devoted to printing and the newspaper industry, added its voice to the sympathisers.
The affair had a strange sequel, when on April 1 the accused harbour board official went swimming, and drowned. Typo noted that investigation of his books suggested Baldwin’s accusations may well have been true.
Flora Baldwin, immersed in grief, wrote to the editor of the New Zealand Observer, with thanks for his support. ‘‘Truly it is most gratifying to me to find that John Baldwin, though dead, has not been forgotten, and you have so loyally done your level best to vindicate the honour of a deceased journalist . . .’’
Footnote: Ian F Grant carried out much of the research for Lasting Impressions while he was the Alexander Turnbull Library’s first adjunct scholar and as a resident and adjunct research associate at Victoria University’s Stout Centre.