Jack Waterford is away. I thought he might be silly enough to file from his hospital bed, given he has not missed a column since it began in (DATE), filing from Britain, Indonesia, various Australian capitals and his beloved plains of western NSW.
It appears Jack will be away for some weeks but we expect a full recovery. Perhaps it was nature or god’s warning to slow down on the job and a warning for some of us around him to share the load. Or perhaps a warning to Jack on lifestyle: less nicotine, caffeine and big lunches. More exercise. He is cheerful and doing well.
The pressures of being editor are immense. And it is a question of being editor rather than doing the job of editor. On a seven day a week newspaper the only peace is the few hours from the end of the print run till the early news and current affairs programs start.
Even journalists’ One Day of the Year (Christmas Eve) has been taken away with publication on Christmas Day.
If truth be known, the best job on the paper is mine – deputy editor. Any decision or task too awesome or nasty or which involves saying “”No”, I can delegate up. Any task too menial or unpleasant I can delegate down.
But the editor’s job is where Harry S Truman’s (NO FULL POINT AFTER S) buck stops.
The pressures are diverse and contradictory. There are the usual pressures of staff. Demands for more new staff and higher pay for existing staff are incessant. Never mind they are inconsistent. Finite cakes, and all that.
There is pressure from the owner. That pressure usually comes in the form of the owner wanting a reasonable return on capital and as editorial departments are spenders not earners, they come in for special scrutiny. I’m sure most owners would like to translate Sir Humphrey’s efficient hospital with no patients into a newspaper with no journalists.
Owners also have sense of position in the community and a philosophy of one sort or another which must be heeded to, if, indeed, it can be discerned because most owners realise the commercial good sense and propriety of not directly directing editorial policy.
The pressure from the general manager is also immense. He or she is ensuring the most efficient use of capital and labour and delivering the bottom line in publication excellent and profit to the owner. Once again the demands of owner and general manager are very often different from editorial staff, though we are all supposed to be in the same ship.
Speaking of ships. The Titanic is a good analogy. The White Star Line wants extra performance. The captain, who owes his job to the line, is concerned about the ship’s and passenger’s safety, even if the ownership changes while the ship is half-way across the Atlantic. Meanwhile, down in steerage the Deckchair Reshufflers Union is demanding a pay rise; up in First Class the leader of the Tory Party has sent the smoked salmon back complaining it is too pink; and in the engine room there has been a meltdown causing a delay that might prevent us getting to New York on time.
Then there is the great pressure from readers. The consumers of margarine get the same product every day. We build a different product from the ground up every day. And it tastes different each time. Many readers, however, do not revel in the diversity and subtlety. They are irate if something is published they disagree with. They are more irate if they thing some facts are wrong. The expect perfection (in their eyes). But what amounts to perfection varies from person to person. Moreover, we are expected to publish all their criticisms and correct all mistakes. To wear the hair shirt. Doctors can quietly bury their mistakes and lawyers can charge for them.
As a counterfoil, perhaps newspapers should do what the wine industry does to help consumers rejoice in diversity rather than complain. “”This exquisite edition of The Canberra Times is brought to you are careful selection of premium news morsels. It excites the palate of the discerning medium brow consumer with a delicate bouquet of Canberran, Australian and international blends….. etc etc.”
Then there are the pressures of the pressure groups, people who have something to flog, the organisations which have to justify their own existence, politicians with credibility for sale, obsessives pushing barrows, good people with a reasonable view to put, hard-working people seeking help and only a limited amount of space and a limited number of journalists to cover their demands.
Some of those pressures can be unremitting. People who want to refight the Tamil-Sri Lankan war in the Letters column (at 1000 words a bite) because of one oblique reference by one letter writer.
The drug prohibitionists are convinced we are biased in favour of the liberationists and vice versa. Kate Carnell and Jon Stanhope are both convinced we are biased against them. (Perhaps it is the only thing they can agree on.)
The public-education proponents things we are propagandists for the private schools and vice versa. If only they would ring at the same time on different phones. You could jam the earpiece of one handset against the mouthpiece of the other and let them get on with it.
And all this excludes dollar-chasing lawyers suing for defamation.
And then there is the ultimate pressure which makes the occupation of journalism the best there is. Deadline.
The press must start at 11.20pm. Everything works back from that. In most other occupations things can be put off till tomorrow if they are not finished today.
Press start is at once cathartic, creative and satisfying. The sins of yesterday are published; it is too late. The byline is published; something has been created; the enormous co-operative effort of the 200 plus employees (including 50 or 60 sixty journalists) which make the daily miracle come out.
And it is a miracle that all that pressure does blow more often.