Royal Flush
THE PRESS
By DAVID FROST
OR the past ten years, since the Great Water- r shed of 1956, Britain has allegedly been in the throes of a great social revolution, when all sorts of amazing new forces have come to the surface and blasted, rather than edged, out all sorts of old values. Fleet Street, with its dedica- tion to fashion, its twenty-four-hour standby for the latest news of Mary Quant, has apparently been leading this process. But when the critical moment arrives, when the chips are really down —which set of reflexes assert themselves?
Last Sunday night, Princess Alexandra gave birth to a baby daughter, weighing 71b. 8oz. Mother and child were in great form. That was good news. Everyone knows that the Princess and her husband Mr Angus Ogilvy—or rather `the 29-year-old Princess and her husband Mr Angus Ogilvy, aged 37' as the Sketch put it— are a delightful and intelligent couple, and so was particularly happy for them. However, knowing what an agonising re-appraisal many editors have been having about the newsworthi- ness of the Royal Family, it seemed a moot point whether it would be Page 3, 5 or 7 that would carry news of the seventeenth in line of succes- sion to the Throne.
In the event, the story won a huge lead story headline in the Daily Sketch, the Daily Express and the Daily Mirror. Not so surprising in the Sketch and the Express, who still seem to yearn for the era of Lady Docker, Prince Rainier and Royal Duchess Has Slight Cold; but quite a shock for readers of the Mirror.
However, the 'abstainees' are even more in- teresting. Of the three heavies, the Telegraph gave it the biggest play—surprise, surprise—with a story and picture in the right-hand column of the front page. The Guardian tucked it away in five paragraphs in the middle of column four, and The Times carried its New Look to Bolshevik proportions by pushing it to the bottom of column four with only three paragraphs.
Of the popular papers, one would probably say that the Mail and the Sur/ are trying to carry out the most searching reassessment of news values, and sure enough on Monday they were the only two populars to refrain from giving the story pride of place—in the Mail's case, second to an economic story, and in the Sun's case tying for second place under a pay- squeeze lead story, with a rousing piece of editorialising by Paul Bareau and, shades of pro- gress, 'COUNTESS ARRESTED ON DRUGS CHARGE.' No' one, as far as one could see, had acquired serialisation rights to the life of Sister Angela Cummings, the midwife.
Whichever way one looks at it, it was a first- class turn-out for Princess Alexandra. What was the explanation? Was it her brilliant timing— something that would never have happened any other day of the week, but a journalistic godsend for a newsless Monday morning? Was it simply the incredibly dull assortment of other news that had happened—the choice does seem to have been between Princess Alexandra, Day 926 of the Economic Crisis, World Cup Star Unhurt in Small Collision, and Hovercraft Stopped for Yachts, or possibly outraced by them.
It is a thankless task. If the papers play the royal story big, then everyone tells them they are out-of-date. If they push it down the page, and focus on Jean Shrimpton and Terry Stamp, every- one tells them they are the slaves of the latest fashion. The •truth of the matter is that the old stories still have the greater staying-power. Th'e personalities and the conventions established in an era of inequality do not register the same antipathies as the personalities and the conven- tions established in the new (alleged) Equality State. During the economic crisis, no one would have minded if the Prime Minister had gone off to the grouse moors. It would have been a splendid example of sang-froid, of typing the whole thing as 'a little local difficulty.' But when the Prime Minister tries to do it 'sixties-style by taking himself off to the Cavern, Wembley and the Royal Garden Hotel, screams of impotent rage can be heard from all over Threadneedle
Street and, perhaps more significantly, Rochdale.
No, let's face it, it's going to be a long time before the subs start using the whole of the front page of the Daily Mirror to announce to the world `A BOUNCING BABY GIRL FOR TWIGGY' or the whole of the front page of the Daily Sketch to announce that the 71b. 8oz.‘son born to Mr
and Mrs Mick Jagger is seventeenth in line of succession to the Andrew Oldham millions.
At present, as Monday morning's papers showed, the old aristocracy still have it made. And a very good thing too: though I still have a lingering feeling that there was some other news to be found somewhere....
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