Established in 1946 … that’s some time ago

It was with slightly mixed feelings that I read the Bangkok Post would be celebrating its 72nd anniversary on Aug 1. Any newspaper that has lasted that long and in the process survived approximately 15 coups or attempted coups and assorted other upheavals, deserves a pat on the back.

My reservations are for purely selfish reasons. I happen to be the same age as the newspaper — we were both established in 1946 — so the Post’s birthday is an annual reminder that I am not exactly a “spring chicken” anymore. I think the official term is “old codger”.

Having been associated with the newspaper for many of those years, the anniversary got me thinking about those early days. The first time I ever saw the Post was in April 1969. I had been travelling overland for the previous three months and was starved of news. I was immediately impressed by the high standard of the newspaper in a country where few people spoke English. More importantly, the Post published English football results every Sunday which made it worth every satang of the massive two baht it cost.

In those early weeks as a penniless backpacker, little did I know that six months later I would be working at the newspaper, which in those days was situated on Rajadamnoen Avenue. I kept a diary and on November 12, 1969, there is the rather mundane entry: “First day at the Post — quite enjoyable”. Not exactly a statement of literary depth, but at least it was positive.

The faithful No.2

Forgive me for a few reminiscences from those early days. I couldn’t afford a taxi, but for one baht took the No.2 white Nai Lert bus from the top of Sukhumvit Soi 1 to Rajadamnoen. I would return by the same route in the wee hours of the morning, clutching a hot off the press Bangkok Post. So my daily transport expenditure was the grand sum of two baht.

The editorial office always seemed a hive of activity, probably because it was so small. You got to know everybody very quickly. I was impressed by the cosmopolitan nature of the editorial staff. In addition to the Thais, we had a motley lineup of Aussies, Americans, Kiwis, Brits, Burmese, Filipinos, Indians, Indonesians, Pakistanis and even an Egyptian. Each one had their own fascinating story to tell. In the proofreading room, I soon became aware that many of the Burmese had a far greater understanding of the English language than myself, although as readers are aware, that’s not difficult.

Tales of the Orient

Something that made the Bangkok Post such a unique experience were the often bizarre news stories. They were so different to those in my newspaper back home in Reading.

I will always remember the unfortunate buffalo which jumped off a truck taking it to the abattoir and somehow found itself in the departure lounge of Don Mueang airport. After taking a bite out a few suitcases the buffalo sent passengers scattering as it charged around the terminal with airport officials in hot pursuit. The poor old thing was eventually subdued and last seen back on the truck, heading for the Great Meatball in the Sky.

One of the more captivating early tales in 1969 concerned the wife of a leading western businessman who was working for a multinational company, who left her husband and ran off with a tuk-tuk driver to Korat. Alas, it didn’t have a fairytale ending.

Then there was the five million baht that went missing from a Bangkok bank — an inside job was suspected. The staff were duly questioned and it was noticeable that the janitor had not shown up since the day of the robbery, citing “a headache”. A few days later, however, he was spotted near the bank getting out of a fancy limousine. He proudly showed his colleagues a new Rolex watch, a diamond-studded bracelet, a gold necklace and a sparkling diamond ring. He also bought everyone lunch. Not bad on a janitor’s salary. Even Sgt Nop was able to figure this one out.

Comforting clatter

Whenever asked about the early days of the Post I immediately think of typewriters. We had squadrons of them, admittedly some a bit the worse for wear. I admit to never really mastering typewriters. But there was something satisfying about the clatter of a battered Smith Corona or Olympia as opposed to the creepy silence of a computer keyboard.

No two typewriters behaved the same way. Like the people who used them, they all had their idiosyncrasies and some were infuriating. There were always letters or keys which didn’t function properly and you had to really whack them to get any co-operation. At least they didn’t break down in power cuts. However, things could get a bit messy when the ribbon wore out and needed changing. I never did get the hang of that, always ending up covered in ink.

Nowhere man

Those early years at the Post and in Thailand were such a great experience I ended up writing a book about it, The Long Winding Road to Nakhon Nowhere, about which much has been said, most of it unprintable. It is available at Asia Books and Amazon. com. How about that for a shameless plug? I’ve been told the book is ideal for curing insomnia. PRINTED AND DISTRIBUTED BY PRESSREADER