A bloody business -
SIR John Hall fought a long and bloody battle to boot out United’s blinkered directors and usher in Kevin Keegan and his Entertainers.
However, there was increasingly desperate in-fighting which claimed many fallen victims before victory was attained.
United are, of course, big business and people don’t give up control easily.
More likely they have to be carried screaming to the negotiating table.
From day one the Chronicle decided to put its weight behind the campaign with a bold logo showing a disgruntled Magpie alongside the words: “After 35 bleak years why are we waiting?”
It was, as Hall was to acknowledge, a particularly brave decision by a local newspaper because success was far from guaranteed and the consequences could have been dire.
I was designated to be the Chron’s voice during the campaign launch as the eighties came to an end which, of course, put me on a direct collision course with those sitting on high as the power brokers of St James’ Park.
Rapidly relations between Hall’s Magpie Group and United’s board became increasingly fraught.
Good manners were abandoned in the heat of battle, dirty tricks abounded and threats became more sinister by the month.
In the end the Magpie Group was buying up shares at a mindblowing £1,000 a time, John Waugh, Peter Ratcliffe and Malcolm Dix crisscrossing the country for clandestine meetings with those possessing paper power.
The breakthrough came when George Dickson, the biggest of all shareholders, quit the board and sold out to Hall.
I was used throughout as a gobetween, meeting up with certain directors for unofficial talks. It led to bizarre experiences which would have rested more easily within the pages of a spy novel.
For example, at one meeting held in a private house I was taken into the kitchen at a critical point during negotiations.
The cold water tap was turned full on so if I was wired voices would not be clearly heard.
The obsession with being recorded was always prevalent. I was ordered before one comingtogether with a current director to take him away from the designated meeting place in case it was bugged and instead find a quiet corner of a hotel lounge not in his territory and not of his choice.
Naturally I became fair game in a brutal war and was warned once this was all over I would never be allowed into SJP again.
Ah, I replied full of bravado if nought else, but what if we win. Will you get back in? At one stage I was fleetingly given a bodyguard, a former SAS man. Honest, I kid not. The one nagging thought throughout a campaign which took more than two long years to reach its conclusion was, what if the change didn’t work?
What if United were no better off? My intentions may have been honourable as a fan sick of relentless
I became fair game in a brutal war and was warned that once this was all over I would never be allowed into SJP again
John Gibson