A MORNING STRAFE

Southland Times, Issue 18965, 12 June 1923, Page 13

A MORNING STRAFE

MEMORIES OF NORTHCLIFFE. “MIND OF FRETFUL CHILD.” The man who until his recent death owned more newspapers than anybody else in England ’‘had the mind of a child—and often a very fretful child,” reports a writer who worked under him, and afterwards came to occupy a prominent place in English letters. Horace Wyndham’s memoirs, published under the title of “The Nineteen Hundreds” (Thomas Seltzer), include a brief, piquant appreciation of England’s most picturesque newspaper man. Northcliffe, says Mr Wyndham, used to read every issue of his Daily Mail, “from title down to colophon,” and then compile a daily bulletin embodying his considered views on the issue. They were always couched “in extremely vigorous, not to say trenchant language . . . and, when stuck up in the reporters’ room by a trembling sub-editor, would be read with bated breath.” The following is given as a fair sample of "the morning strafe”: — 1. To-day’s paper is just about the worst ever published. 2. Who is the fool responsible for the paragraph dealing with unemployed in Sheffield? Tell him from me to get some idea of his subject. 3. The “Society” column seems to be written by a footman and intended for housemaids. As usual, it is full of mistakes about people’s titles. The man in charge must really lose the impression that the son of a baronet is necessarily a peer. If he doesn’t lose this impression, he will certainly lose his job. 4.1 like the story of the curate who apologised for coming late to church because he hadn’t finished reading the serial, instalment. It is the sort of thing that sends up our circulation. Let us have more of these human stories. 5. The general articles on Page Six are rather worse than usual. I note that one deals with wine, one with beer, and two with cards. Tell the man looking after this feature that booze and bridge are not the only items that interest our readers. 6. The second leader is quite appalling. It misses the whole point. 7. The police news is fairly well done. Still, it ought to be done a lot better. 8. Our correspondent at Puddleton-on-Marsh is no sort of use. He misses everything. Instruct him either to wake up or shut up. 9. There is quite a good news story at the head of Column 1, Page 3. Let me know who wrote it, and tell the others I regard it as a model. 10. The Woman’s Page is full of clever touches. 11. Who is the ignorant fool who refers to "total failure of macaroni crop”? Does he think the stuff grows? 12. The photographs on the back page are improving. They are, however, still pretty bad. But the severest criticism, remarks Mr Wyndham, was always reserved for the occasions (comparatively rare) when the Mail missed a piece of news given by a rival organ (in particular by the Daily Express), and especially when it had been "splashed.” On the other hand, there were rich rewards. In particular:— A directorship in the Daily Mail and its associated group was the coverted guerdon of many years’ good service and the successful weathering of innumerable storms in Carmelite House. It was not bestowed as a matter of course. In fact, no one ever discovered the precise system on which it was bestowed. Merit, opportunity, and sheer luck all seemed to run hand in hand. As often as not, too, Lord Northcliffe had his own reasons for conferring this signal mark of favour, this zenith, as it were, of successful endeavour. Apropos this matter, the star story in Carmelite House is the following: It happened that much to the annoyance of "the Chief”—who simply could not understand that anybody could ever want to leave his employment-—the editor of one of his Sunday papers resigned, in order to accept a better job from a rival firm. Thereupon (so the tale goes), Northcliffe bestowed the vacant position on a young man then occupying a very subordinate post on his staff. The next thing he did was to send for this fortunate youth and remark that he had also decided to make him a director. “Oh, thank you very much, my lord,” returned the recipient of this unexpected bounty, almost prostrating himself on the floor with gratitude. "Very good, indeed, of your lordship to recognise me like this. I’m sure I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it.” Northcliffe, however, who hates snobbery among his employees, cut this one’s performance very short. "Don’t worry yourself about that,” ho said grimly. “You haven’t done anything. You’re not nearly clever enough. I’m not making you a director because you deserve it, but just to show your predecessor, that ungrateful fool Gubbins, what he’s missed by leaving me.”