Trustee of the public interest
It took me quite a little time to discover how lucky I was.
About three weeks after joining the Gleaner as a trainee reporter, 51 years ago, having spent a week in the proof-readers’ cell, observing editing marks and the need for absolute accuracy,
I was handed over to Hector Bernard to be his ‘cub’ – as it was then described.
I had hardly laid eyes on Bernard before I was handed over to him. He was one of three reporters who drove their own cars (Simmonds and Trueman were the others) and unlike them, who reported Parliament, Hector seemed to be out of the office for very long stretches, dropping in, it seemed, when the fancy took him.
It was an illusion. Hector, regarded as something of a dandy, even a dilettante by some, was in fact probably the hardest working reporter in the newsroom. Over the next few weeks I would find out first hand. He was the Gleaner’s farm editor and editor of the Farmer’s Weekly, a supplement to the Saturday Gleaner which he fathered, wrote and edited himself.
He took me wherever he went, introducing me to all his contacts, people like Rudolph Burke, president of the Jamaica Agricultural Society (JAS); and the Englishman, Sir Robert Kirkwood, head of the Sugar Manufacturers Association; the people who ran the JAS Farm Store and various typists and ordinary workers in places like the Banana Board and the All Island Jamaica Cane Farmers Association. Within three weeks I had met dozens of people. He had contacts from top to bottom.
Within three weeks of coming under Hector’s tutelage I was summoned to the editor’s desk one morning and told that beginning next Monday, I was replacing the shipping reporter, a man with his own by-line, not quite a senior reporter, but close. He had been fired by Theodore Sealy, the editor, who had a penchant for abrupt decisions.
The promotion shocked everybody, as Sealy probably intended it to. I was just short of my 18th birthday.
I imitated Hector’s work habits, introducing myself to everyone I could meet on the waterfront, from the labourers in the railway piers to the wharfingers like J McG Hall the unquestioned czar and ruler of the No 2 railway pier, a man who could terrify the toughest port worker. The myth was that even the fish in the harbour listened respectfully when “J McG” roared.
The Bernard apprenticeship served me well and continues to serve me half-a-century later.
In 1958, Norman Manley persuaded the UN to lend him their deputy under-secretary for communications, Peter Aylen, formerly a top executive of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, to set up the new Jamaica Broadcasting Corporation (JBC).
Hector had left the Gleaner to become information officer at the Caribbean Commission in Port of Spain. He returned to Jamaica in 1957 to edit Spotlight, a monthly news magazine, when its new owners fell out with the founder, Evon Blake. This didn’t last long, as Peter Aylen met Hector and decided he was the man to be director of news and public affairs at the JBC.
By February 1959, Hector had contacted everybody he wanted for his newsroom. From the Eastern Caribbean he brought Randy Rawlins of Trinidad and J C Proute of Barbados. He brought back Lance Evans from the US and hired Charles Balfour from the Gleaner subs desk. Also on board was Claude Robinson (Snr) a Guyanese who had once edited Public Opinion and two young women who had never been in a newsroom. Women were very rare in Jamaican journalism then.
And, unlike any other newsroom in the Caribbean, journalists were at last paid decent salaries, reflecting the value of their work and their experience. It revolutionised Jamaican journalism. Bright people could actually afford to choose journalism as a career. Later, in the 70s, Hector looked for people with degrees to work for JBC News.
When JBC went on the air on June 14, 1959, it not only had a newsroom of able people, but in a West Indian federation, we had a Caribbean newsroom.
The newsroom was perhaps the most important element in the development of the JBC and the transformation of Jamaican journalism and Jamaican media.
Bernard created an agricultural news service with Ken Maxwell and Carroll Reckord (later Anthony Johnson and Neville James) and I became the political and industrial reporter, with a three times weekly commentary. The farm reporter was provided with a car equipped with radio telephone so that he could report from any part of Jamaica. The newsroom proper had another radio car. At that time, I believe, the police force had three cars similarly equipped. No other news organisation even had one. RJR still got its news by dispatch rider from the Gleaner.
We were on the ball and more and more people began to listen to the JBC and then begin to assimilate the Jamaican culture which, for the first time, was coming to them by radio: Louise Bennett and Ranny Williams, Charles Hyatt, Sonny Bradshaw and Sagwa Bennett, Ernie Ranglin (ChiChiBud on his guitar was JBC News’ signature tune) among many others that most people had only heard about.
In his book, A Voice at the Workplace, Michael Manley describes the situation then:
“The newsroom and its editorial and reporting staff were setting the pace in Jamaican journalism, incorporating stories of the kind that had previously tended to be ignored and displaying that esprit de corps which is the hallmark of the best news organisation. Commentators like John Maxwell and Peter Abrahams were introducing a new dimension into Jamaican journalism. Maxwell’s brilliant, searching and abrasive mind was nicely contrasted with the balanced urbanity of Abrahams’ style.
“Manley’s government was often under severe attack, particularly from Maxwell, and he was sometimes under pressure from his own colleagues to do something about it. It is to his lasting credit that he protected the station and its commentators with the shield of his own authority so that they could enjoy the freedom to explore the new possibilities which existed because the JBC had come into being.”
One big moment came when an Avianca plane crashed on landing in Montego Bay in February 1960. We riveted Jamaica to its radio sets with our reporting, which would have been, I think, high class almost anywhere in the world at that time. Randy Rawlins and I were on duty that morning, I the senior editor, was frustrated at not being able to get anyone to Montego Bay quickly, since the airport was closed. I asked M G Robinson if there was any way we could set up a connection. In short order, “MG” had wired up our telephone so that I could conduct, as far as I know, Jamaica’s first live radio news interview – with a customs or immigration officer at the airport who was extremely eloquent, dispassionate and clear, but whose name, unfortunately, escapes me.
When Hector and Peter Aylen came into the newsroom and saw that we had the situation under control, it was clear that they were proud of the job we were doing and saw no reason to interfere or take command. Their only question was: “Do you guys need anything?” Completely contrary to the rules, we got two beers and some patties from Rainbow drive-in next door.
But it wasn’t all light-hearted. In 1961, after the referendum, Reynold Henry and his “revolutionaries” decided to take over Jamaica in what they fondly imagined was Castro/26 of July style. They attempted an alliance with Rastas, and when they proved unco-operative, shot two of them. When the army was sent after them, Henry and his men killed two British soldiers of the Hampshire regiment.
At one point during the crisis, Wills Isaacs was acting prime minister. He sent a script to the JBC in which, among other things, he called upon Jamaicans to round up and capture all Rastas and bearded man and hand them over to the police. I was alarmed, not simply because I too wore a beard, rare among middle class Jamaicans at that time.
I happened to be in charge of the newsroom that day and, in Hector’s absence, was in charge of approving political commentary, including ministerial broadcasts. I phoned Mr Isaacs (who I knew very well) and told him that I didn’t think JBC could allow him to broadcast what he’d said about Rastas. It was an incitement to violence. Wills blew up. The premier has seen the script, he said.
I said I was sorry, but our charter forbade us inciting violence. I called Hector (It was a Saturday morning) and told him what was happening. He arrived at the office a few minutes later, took one look at the script and called Wills Isaacs.
“Maxwell is perfectly right,” he said, “We cannot broadcast the script as is.” Wills was by now furious and called Manley, who was taking a few days off at Drumblair. Manley phoned Hector who explained the problem. Manley said, ‘well, if you think so, I agree with you’. He hadn’t actually seen the completed script.
We had other run-ins with the Government, particularly over my political reporting as Michael Manley relates in A Voice at the Workplace. Manley was under pressure to do something about me. Bernard told them that they should be ashamed of themselves. The charter of the JBC, drawn up by Manley, explicitly guaranteed our independence.
Of course, this never made the papers and the Opposition JLP was not aware that we had any difficulties with the PNP Government. That was indirectly to cause a small explosion in November of the year when the JLP chairman, E C L Parkinson, accused the JBC of giving more air time to the PNP’s annual conference than to the JLP’s. Bernard instructed me to do an audit of our news bulletins – which were archived. I found that while the PNP’s conference had got 24 minutes to the JLP’s 20 the JLP had 25 stories to the PNP’s 19. Honours were about even. We could not have been more equitable had we tried. It did not satisfy the JLP.
Shortly after this, when Manley and Bustamante had gone to England to settle the final form of Jamaica’s new independence constitution, it was announced that on his return to Jamaica, Manley would be landing at the Palisadoes Airport, as it was then, and coming across to Victoria Pier by motor launch. A civic welcome was planned.
Mr Seaga, then a member of the Legislative Council and shooting off sparks as the JLP’s new boy wonder, sent us a political advertisement which, among other things, urged the ‘West Kingston Freedom Fighters’ to meet Manley at Victoria Pier and give him a ‘warm welcome’. As it happened, I was again the duty editor and I told Mr Seaga the same thing I’d told Wills Isaacs the year before. The advertisement was an incitement to riot. The JLP’s heavy artillery was called into action, which didn’t take long, since most of it was gathered at Bustamante’s house at Tucker Avenue. First on line was Bob Lightbourne, who had been my boss at the IDC, then D C Tavares, a family friend, then Sir Alexander Bustamante himself, using every charm known to man, and then, surprise, the commissioner of police, Noel Crosswell, who was also at Tucker Avenue.
“Maxwell,” Crosswell said, “I’ve seen the notice and there’s nothing wrong with it.”
I suppressed my urge to tell him that I thought his presence at Tucker Avenue was highly irregular and that I did not know him to be a lawyer. I handed the phone to Hector who had just walked in. He was then put through the same cycle I had been. He told the JLP he would ask advice from the JBC’s legal adviser, Leacroft Robinson Q C. Robinson’s verdict was the same as ours, this time in writing. (Despite this, there was, in fact, a riot when Manley arrived.)
This encounter did not endear any of us to the people who were soon to form the next government.
When the JLP did win the pre-Independence elections, Mr Parkinson complained that while we had called the PNP ministers “Honourable” we had not done so for the JLP. We were able to produce a memorandum from Hector in June 1959, just after we began broadcasting, in which he ruled that no one was to be called by any honorific except on occasions such as state funerals, when protocol demanded it. At all other times, everyone, including the premier, Manley, was simply “Mister”. The JLP were not satisfied. They ‘knew’ we had called people honourable, despite our showing them our archived news bulletins. Thenceforth, all ministers and senators were to be called ‘Honourable’ in news broadcasts.
In the first few years of our existence, journalists and other visitors from abroad were astounded by the high quality of JBC news. It was commonplace to be told that our news were of a standard equal to any in the world. When I went to work for the BBC’s World Service News in 1967, I found that what the visitors had been saying was, in fact, true. After the 1964 strike and the Government’s take-over of the newsroom, it was alas, no longer true.
Hector would never, of course, be any politician’s servant. And this eventually cost him the chance to become general manager of the JBC when the PNP won the elections in 1972.
Nevertheless, in the new free speech atmosphere, Hector was in his element, reviving The Verdict is Yours, starting Press Conference – later Firing Line – and several other important current affairs programmes on radio and television. Hector believed that the press generally underestimated the intelligence of the Jamaican people and pandered to the lowest common denominator. He was determined to raise the level.
It was Hector’s idea to have a new, interactive, journalistic programme, which would be based on news and attract public discussion. He asked me to design it. The result was The Public Eye. Against all advice, he put the programme right up against RJR’s top disc jockey show, and within six months our ratings had come from about five per cent at that time slot, to well over 50 per cent of the audience. And when various top people complained that Public Eye spent too much time on the problems of domestic helpers, Hector’s response was characteristic: “So domestic helpers are not people?”
Every Saturday morning at 10 o’clock, the newsroom met in his office for an hour, criticising and reviewing the week’s output of news and current affairs. All editors, on or off duty, were there.
Many people became real journalists out of those informal seminars.
Hector was distinguished by his insistence that everything we did should be in good taste. We were guests in the homes of the people and we should treat them with courtesy and with intellectual and emotional respect.
He understood journalists to be trustees for the public interest. It was the duty of journalists to defend the public interest and the cause of liberty at all times, to provide a voice for the voiceless, to stimulate people to think so that they might be able to act in their own informed interest and in the interest of their communities.
His last venture, Insight, the fortnightly newsletter, encapsulated his whole philosophy. Insight is the evidence that Hector was a first-class investigative reporter but never a scandal monger. He had no hesitation in taking up the cudgels on behalf of the public, as when he led the class action lawsuit against the less than arms-length dealings between the telephone company and one of its more powerful directors. In all of it, Hector’s motive was simple: “It’s the principle of the thing,” he would say. And the principle was always the public interest.
Principle may have prevented him from the recognition I believe he deserved from the Jamaican community. A real grandee in journalistic terms, he never behaved like one, except in a light-hearted fashion which may have led some to underestimate him. To be able to hear him in discussions with lawyers on libel or on any of the legal traps into which journalists can fall, was to understand that this journalist was a complete journalist and human being, a first-class all-rounder. He never wanted anyone to make a fuss about him but he would often telephone younger journalists to give professional advice or caution. He was an invaluable resource for other journalists.
The Government honoured him with a CD some years ago, although his performance in the service of Jamaica deserved, I think, much higher regard. And, had he been awarded an honorary doctorate by the university as some of his contemporaries and others have been, I believe he would have added more lustre to the distinction than the distinction would have added to him.
I am, of course, prejudiced. Hector Bernard was, to me, a mentor and critic for more than 50 years, a man one could always depend on when the going got rough, the complete journalist and public servant.
One cardinal thing he taught me was that we have the duty to pass on what we know to the people who follow us. In sharing his knowledge, Hector was totally unselfish.
A little over a year ago, I interviewed Hector Bernard for a small book on Investigative Journalism (published by Carimac). In this interview, Hector, I think, expresses simply what he thought journalism was all about. Here is an excerpt. I had asked him a question about the status of journalists.
Bernard: In the old days, people would call up a reporter and they would dictate something to the reporter and they expected you to go back and write it exactly as they had dictated. They complained about me to the Gleaner that they had given me something to write and I had written something quite different.
How could that last? How could you develop a profession under those conditions.? There was the case in Trinidad the other day when a newspaper owner said “well, I sell razor blades but I don’t allow people to use them to cut my throat, so if I have a newspaper .” and that was the thinking, that is the thinking.
The reason the profession has declined is that the owners want to ‘run’ the editors; the editors are subservient to the owners. Editors now look up to the owners as to masters; they are not going to say . they are not going to disagree. Editors need to have cojones.
I admire Katherine Graham, with the Pentagon Papers and Watergate. She said go ahead, she respected her journalists, That could never, ever happen in Jamaica.
Maxwell: Except for the early JBC, under your leadership, when the news had an independence and autonomy which it has never had in any other Jamaican news organisation, how did you do that?
Bernard: Because that was the tradition we were supposed to be part of. News was not sold. You could buy advertisement around the news. But we had to fight to keep sponsorship out of the news and to keep people from telling you what to put on and what not. One gentleman called me at the JBC one day and asked me ‘Hector, what is this boy Maxwell trying to do? Is he trying to get the government into trouble?’
I said he is doing precisely what he is paid to do. People couldn’t understand, they refused to understand that the news was sacred. News was happening, it was happening and it was reported.
You don’t gratuitously go and look for a general manager and say that he was out with a girl who is not his wife. That is not news, it is of no importance.
The JBC newsroom was good because it had good reporters and editors who were keen, they ‘owed nobody any money’ as the saying is.
Maxwell: We all talk about investigative journalism – how do you define investigative journalism?
Bernard: All journalism is investigative. You have to investigate all stories, but the kind of stories that people talk about as ‘investigative journalism’ are stories that you really have to work on – that you are led to by your own ingenuity and you follow up and produce.
Maxwell: Pursue all the leads, discover what the real story is.
Bernard: Precisely – and bring them out into the open. Persistence – It’s sometimes a risky business from the point of view of the law in our society, but it has to be done that way. And you get your leads from all sorts of things, that’s why I say a reporter needs wide knowledge and self-confidence.
Maxwell: In the case of the Street People Scandal in Montego Bay – from my point of view it should not have been difficult for any good, competent reporter to have got all the facts about what happened. What do you think about it?
Bernard: I don’t know. From my point of view there was no investigating done. You have to cultivate people, people who are disgruntled, people who are dissatisfied with themselves, people who are dissatisfied with other people, dissatisfied with their circumstances, to get them to talk to you and while you are doing that you have to inspire confidence in your own integrity, inspire confidence in them with you.
And I think the street people story could have been better done. You might disagree with me, but the whole purpose of the way it was presented was to knock the government rather than to defend the victims’ human rights and get to the heart of the matter.
Maxwell: It seems to me that had it been the government’s reputation alone that was at stake, I think the story would have come out.
Bernard: Yes, there were other interests involved, tourism and commercial interests involved which [reporters didn’t want to offend].
Maxwell: We hear people excuse their failures by pleading the dangers of the libel laws, but since truth is an absolute defence to libel, it occurs to me that there must be other considerations inhibiting investigative journalism?
Bernard: If truth is an absolute defence then why not publish it? There are other considerations – arriére pensée – who is going to be hit, what’s going to happen, and the journalist really cannot be concerned – by and large – with the consequences of the news. If he is going to stop to consider. perhaps only in war time or in some serious emergency perhaps .
Maxwell: But even so, if the fact is that something may embarrass your country, it may still be in its ultimate best interest for the facts to be known?
Bernard: Yes, but I speak only of cases where news gives away vital information to the enemy.
Maxwell: Yes, of course. This intrigues me because I have found that in tracking down stories about the environment say, I have found the facts leading inexorably toward embarrassing the party for which I have voted most of my life .but as I understand it, if the facts lead one way .
Bernard: Of course, I understand you . and if you needed any proof that it is the right thing to do – have I ever told you the story about Norman Manley? You [Maxwell] and he had a run-in at the Press Club one night and as I was walking him to the door he said to me “Bright fellow, very bright fellow”, which was a surprise, given the rough ride you had given him in the Club*. But he was that kind of man. There aren’t too many like him.”
Just as there aren’t too many like Hector.
Footnote
In 1958, N W Manley, widely expected to give up his premiership in Jamaica to become prime minister of the West Indies federation, decided not to go to the federation. In response to a request from Hector Bernard, then president of the Jamaica Press Association, the premier held an informal briefing for the Jamaican press at the Press Club where one young journalist accused him of breaking his promise to the West Indian people and of failing to undertake an ‘historic obligation’ to lead the new nation.