A Prince who never wanted a fuss
When I’m asked if there’s one thing that attracted me to this lifetime lark of journalism . . . the answer is always my fascination with the sheer unpredictability of it all.
By the very definition of news – every newspaper edition, daily or weekly, is a whole new beast that needs planned, produced, printed and made public.
Back in my part-time van boy days – when The Herald, Daily Express, Daily Record, Sunday Mail, Evening Times and Evening Citizen hogged the top of Ayr’s Kyle Street – press men would drop in to tell their tales of murder trials, fires, fishing boat tragedies . . . or greeting Arnold Palmer at Prestwick Airport.
I’d then go home and have dinner with my old dad who went in – and out – of the same gate of the ‘Big’ Stampworks almost every working day of his adult life. His tales of scrapped forgings didn’t cut it.
By the age of 17, journalism wasn’t a potential career . . . it was a calling. I loved it – and still do.
Given different circumstances, George Orwell might have said that “All stories are equal – but some are more equal than others”.
And although I wasn’t involved, last Friday was one of those rare days when the story goes beyond inequable.
As the news of Prince Philips’ passing landed just after midday – I’d have sold my soul to be back on the floor of the Daily Record!
Call me hard hearted or insensitive all you like. But mention August 31 1997 to any national press man over fifty – and they’ll give you a stark one word reply .. . “Diana”.
Then again . . . there’s a lot more to the death of a senior Royal than most of us.
Even the decision to announce Prince Philip’s death at high noon was notable.
By tradition, these sombre statements were held back until 5pm to allow the first editions of the London Times to break the story.
I mean, what kind of self-minded monarch wants the Brighton Evening Argus to be first to report their demise?
The Palace statement then triggers a whole national news routine that is pre- planned to perfection.
The BBC’s television presenters are immediately dressed in mourning black . . . usually within minutes.
A cupboard, filled with black ties, jackets, white shirts, black dresses, skirts and blouses is set aside precisely for that purpose.
A WEEKLY DOSE OF WIT AND WITHERING COMMENT ON ISSUES AND FACES HITTING THE NEWS ...
There’s the story of how a fromer Chancellor of the Exchequer once arrived for a breakfast interview – but his shirt was badly stained by a paper cup of coffee, thanks to a speed bump in the BBC car park.
Where would he get a clean shirt at 7.30am . . . and at five minutes notice?
The BBC’s “funeral wardrobe” saved the day. He gave his interview in a shirt labelled “Jeremy Paxman”.
And it’s not just the Beeb who forward plan for these national – but sadly very predictable – events. Everybody does.
In my Record days, and before the computer age, obituaries for all the world’s leading figures were stored in a grisly box in the newsroom.
Her Majesty the Queen, The Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Charles, Mrs Thatcher, The Pope and Ronald Reagan were all there . . . and regularly updated to include recent events and photographs.
At a moment’s notice – they could be “topped and tailed”. ‘Topped’ with the breaking details of the death – and ‘tailed’ with the inevitable tributes that would be running on the wires.
We reckoned that with the passing of a senior royal, a 16- page “tribute pull-out” was possible within an hour.
Now, they are all stored electronically and ready at the push of a button. Macabre as it may sound, you can bet that while the Duke of Edinburgh was in hospital recently, work on his life and times would already be occupying journalists and picture researchers across the country.
In this business, death is, regrettably, just a fact of life!
I can also assure that media editors across the land will be analysing how they handled the passing of this senior royal . . . and what to change for the next.
The BBC have already come under fire for their “blanket coverage”.
They axed scheduled programmes and switched to rolling royal coverage on both BBC1 and BBC2.
The result was a huge dip in viewing figures. On the Friday evening of Prince Philip’s death, BBC 2 lost 65% of its normal viewing figures.
As the public voted with their remote controls, the most watched programme that evening was C4’s ‘Gogglebox’ - a show about what people watch on television! And it’s sure to raise questions of how a modern TV audience – with Netflix, Amazon and dozens of alternative channels at their fingertips – will react to“momentous news events of national importance” in the future. I never met Prince Philip.
The one time I went to his house – Buck House – he wasn’t in.
But for a man who didn’t want a “fuss” – he certainly gave my profession it’s biggest “fuss” in a generation.
But for a man who didn’t want a ‘fuss’ he certainly gave my profession it’s biggest ‘fuss’ in a generation