The editors in my life (11)

On informing Alastair Dunnett, editor of The Scotsman, of my  dissatisfaction with life as a sub-editor in the BBC’s London newsroom in the 1960s, I received an instant response.  Though he knew that music was my metier, and that I wished to get back to it in some way, he offered me what he hoped would be a desirable alternative. The post of commonwealth correspondent had fallen vacant in the paper’s London office. Would I be interested? As bait, he said he could offer some attractive foreign jaunts.

Dunnett, the most artful of newspaper editors,  believed that if you could do one job as a journalist you might be attracted to another.  The Scotsman’s Edinburgh-based music critic, Christopher Grier, could be a perfect diplomatic correspondent - or so Dunnett said to me, though he never actually tried to tempt Christopher in that direction.  The trouble, as he realised, might lie in convincing Christopher that it was a possibility.

Though I knew little about the commonwealth, or had any special interest in it, I accepted his suggestion that it would be worth my while visiting the paper’s London office, impressively positioned on the corner of Fleet Street and Bouverie Street, and having a talk with the London editor, Eric Mackay. I’d never met him before, but feeling that I had nothing to lose I made an  appointment to see him.

Our encounter was potentially momentous, because Mackay  - though nobody knew it at the time - was destined to become editor of The Scotsman in succession to Dunnett.  Tall, sombre, black-haired, with a conspicuous limp, he was an intimidating  presence, but he listened calmly to my nervous prattle about why I wanted the job.  Staring penetratingly at me as I spoke, he reminded me of the actor John Le Mesurier playing the role of a weary High Court judge.

Asked by him for my philosophy on the commonwealth, I could think of nothing original or  constructive to say. But suddenly he grinned - and Mackay’s Aberdonian grin was, as I was to discover, one of hist most likeable features.  “Well,” he said, “Mr Dunnett has assured me that you would be suitable for the job, so it’s yours for the asking.” Then he mused for a moment, while torrential rain poured down his window overlooking the Daily Express and Daily Telegraph offices across the road. “But,” he added, “I can’t help getting the impression that you don’t really want it.”

Both of us then relaxed and began talking about music and the cultural scene in London. He counselled patience. A more appropriate job for me might be in prospect.  He assured me that he would get back in touch.

 Christmas was coming and I wished him a merry one. He did not look very merry. Indeed, as I left the room he gave me another of his lingering stares and I resigned myself to hearing no more from him.   The letter, when it came, was from someone else, for by then Mackay had been moved to Edinburgh as Dunnett’s assistant editor and I was to become, to my surprise, the paper’s London-based cultural correspondent. In the most harmonious circumstances, I had joined the firm.
15 August 2014