Abstract
The beauty of being a journalist at any level is not only that you get to tell other people’s stories, but you are trusted by them to do so. That has been particularly relevant of regional newspaper titles through the ages, where connections are not born of drinks parties but of reputations built over time and evidenced through accuracy, empathy and the craft of writing.
As the title suggests, Bloody Adjectives takes a look at the divide between news and features, as well as reflecting on those links between newsrooms and the communities they serve. It digs into that reputational journey which would afford an individual new jobs, exclusives, and the opportunities to translate determination and a little good fortune into copy they could be proud of.
Peter Rhodes worked as a news and feature writer across the West Midlands for 50 years, and unashamedly chronicles what he terms the “glory days” of the industry. While the current crop of young journalists might take some issue with that phrase, the career legacy he chronicles is testimony to his editorial nous and an era which gave regional reporters a proper platform on which to showcase it.
I’ll avoid spoilers because the stories and the subjects of them are half the reason you’d want to sit down and read the book. Suffice to say that everything is covered – politics, celebrity, historical reportage, and a patch which had its own unique demands. There is an appreciation for a regional title that was on a par with the nationals.
There is one area covered in great depth that has particular relevance to the current news agenda – war and the reporting of it. Ukraine was surely not on the author’s radar at the time of writing, but the insights into different conflicts resonated as much to me about the current Russian invasion as about Iraq, the Falklands or World War One.
High quality feature writing transcends the subject matter it deals with and delivers impact whenever it is read, and there are plenty of examples in this book which bring a shiver to the spine or a tear to the eye. The author keeps his stories grounded by the people he dealt with, allowing the reader not only to connect in a nostalgic sense, but also to map those reflections on to the present day.
A great example of this was the exclusive picked up in a Maltese bar during the Cold War, where the Wolverhampton News & Star scooped the likes of The New York Times, Le Monde and the BBC. It came from being in the right place at the right time and having the journalistic ability to make good use of the opportunity when presented with it.
After a late booking in a one-star hotel, a chatty receptionist revealed that the main Kremlin spokesman had hidden himself away in this down-market establishment. He agreed to talk over a half of lager.
The story speaks of a time which, as recently as last year, seemed to have been eradicated. His interviewee in 1989 decreed the Cold War as being “buried for eternity” and the author states: “Today’s kids have hardly heard of it. But from 1945 to 1989 the Cold War dictated everything.”
It might well be that the kids will know of it once again.
The book delves into the reporting of war across the 20th century and it surfaces emotions of anger, fear and sadness – and bravery, solidarity and pride. It also offers a valuable insight into how poorly young journalists make use of others’ experience in the newsroom and often realise only when it’s too late.
The reader is taken from magistrates’ court to royal palace with wry humour and an eye for detail. It outlines how a successful career in the industry can be built on a hard-to-define mixture of forethought and instinct. The author demonstrates the combination with his tale of confusing a minister of security for a minister of securities in Hong Kong, arriving armed with a set of questions based on defending the country’s borders from armed smugglers rather than securing the nation’s finances. It’s a moment that demonstrates journalism is not always about asking the right question, but about asking any question.
The tag line “Ripping Yarns from Sleepy Hollow” offers another nudge to the features desk. I suspect that the stories and experiences are what dreams are made of for a journalist of any generation.
