THE MAN WITH TWO GLASS EYES

Louis Heren remembers

Sir William Haley's aloof editorship of the Times

LITTLE was known about Sir William Haley in Printing House Square when he was appointed editor of the Times in 1952, and the gossip from Broadcasting House was not encouraging. He was said to be a typical Manchester Nonconformist who did not drink or smoke and the men who had served their apprenticeship on the old Manchester Guardian groaned. They re- membered C. P. Scott's austere morality sustained by a diet of bread, cheese and water. It was also reported that Haley was an aloof and unsmiling man who eschewed personal friendships and preferred to pres- ide over a rigid staff structure. J. B. Priestley called him 'the man with the two glass eyes'. Much of this proved to be true. Only the four assistant editors were granted access to his room. He communicated with lesser men by memo dictated from his home in Blackheath before being driven to the office. His praise could be stimulating and his rebukes crushing. It was a cold-blooded and disconcerting way of dealing with loyal subordinates. At least one news editor was seen to break into a cold sweat when he saw one of the memoes on his desk. Here are a couple of examples:

`Could you spend more money on cover- ing live news and less on dead confer- ences.'

`It is extraordinary that after so many Years of prodding, it is still not understood that the main purpose of The Times is to be a newspaper — that means that it should go to press with all the news it considers important or interesting.'

Haley's editorial conferences were no less chilling. News editors, leader writers and specialists sat in rows of chairs like so many school children, and Haley presided from behind his desk. There were no greetings as they filed in, and silent and expressionless he watched the clock until everybody was seated. Grown men averted the gaze as they scurried in a minute or less late. No smoking was allowed, jackets had to be worn, and little was said apart from the reading of news schedules.

Haley's sense of rectitude was unswerv- ing and impressive. His first leader appeared after the coronation, and set the tone of his editorship. The party, it said, was over and not a moment too soon. The British people had had a holiday from reality long enough, and had to earn a new place in the world by their own exertions and not merely by past example. Then followed the refrain, a constant in much of his writings: Christian values must be re-established, morals reasserted, consci- entiousness revived, energy renewed and national unity restored.

His most famous leader, 'It Is a Moral Issue', appeared after the resignation of John Profumo. The Secretary of State for War had lied to parliament about sleeping with a prostitute, who also had a Soviet military attaché as a client. The political consensus held that it was not so much a moral issue as a problem of parliamentary standards and national security. Haley spiritedly disagreed, and blamed successive Conservative governments for bringing the nation psychologically and spiritually to a low ebb: `Change, they declared, was their ally. Nothing else, they seemed to think, mat- tered, compared with the assertion that the nation had never had it so good. Today they are faced with a flagging economy, an uncertain future, and the end of the illusion that Britain's greatness could be measured by the so-called independence of its so-called deterrent. All this may seem far from Mr Profumo, but his admissions could be the last straw . .

It was in fact very far from Profumo. He had done something he ought not to have done, to paraphrase the Anglican general confession, but some readers might have concluded that a little Christian charity was in order.

Haley began his career on the Times as a shorthand-telephonist, taking copy from the foreign correspondents, and moved on to the Manchester Evening News where he became a famous splash sub. He became joint managing director of the Manchester Guardian and Evening News Ltd and then director-general of the BBC. He intro- duced the Third Programme, and after losing the battle against the introduction of commercial television returned to the Times as editor.

He was a very good editor, and Lord Beaverbrook said that he had made The Times a newspaper again. Another admir- er said that he dragged the paper into the 20th century. He defined its purposes to be a journal of record, which plays a useful role in the running of the country, and 'a balanced, interesting and entertaining pap- er for intelligent readers of all ages and classes.'

Haley worked far into the night, and always went down to the stone to see off the first edition. He always supported his reporters and correspondents when they were attacked by authority, for which I am grateful. He put news on the front page, but insisted upon maintaining the tradition of anonymity.

Alas, he failed to make the paper profit- able, and it was sold to Lord Thomson in 1967. Management was largely to blame in that they exhausted the company's finan- cial reserves by demolishing its fine Victo- rian offices and replacing it with an un- necessarily expensive building; but Haley must share some of the blame.

Anonymity suited Haley, he was an anonymous man, but not the bright young men who joined the paper. Apart from normal vanity, they believed correctly that their future prospects depended upon being known. They also resented the rule that they could not write for other publica- tions. The last straw for many of them was Haley's aloofness and the chilling effect it had within the office. Junior leader writers and reporters drifted away. They included some of the best and brightest: Henry Fairlie, Peregrine Worsthorne, James (Jan) Morris, David Holden, Godfrey Hodgson and many more.

His editorship ended tragically, but he was a great journalist; and behind those two glass eyes he was a warm-hearted and generous man imprisoned by intense shy- ness. I think that he was born in the wrong century. If he had succeeded Delane as editor the traditions of the Thunderer, established by Barnes, would not have been smothered by the smugness and respectability of the last decades of Victo- rian England. Nevertheless, I shall always admire and respect his memory.

Louis Heren joined the Times as a copy boy and, apart from the war, continued his career there until 1981, when he was deputy- editor.