ANOTHER VOICE
Perhaps it is time to put a leg-press machine in the Garrick Club
CHARLES MOORE
The club is instituted for the general patronage of the drama; for the purpose of combining the use of a club, on economical principles, with the advantages of a literary society; for bringing together the support- ers of the drama; and for the formation of a theatrical library, with works on costume.' So state the rules of the Garrick Club.
'The ethos of the club is workout, work- out, workout. There's no socialising, no food, no alcohol, no smoking — no looking at the pretty girls.' So says Mr Bryce Taylor, owner of the L.A. Fitness Club in Isle- worth.
You would have thought that there was not much to link these two institutions. The Garrick is full of substantial, sedentary fig- ures such as Mr John Mortimer, Sir Kings- ley Amis and Mr Alan Watkins, The L.A. Fitness Club, on the other hand, is full of thin, active people like Mr Stefan Edberg, Mr Sebastian Coe and the Princess of Wales. It is true that Mr Dominic Harrod is a member of the Garrick and is thin, but there is absolutely no reason to think that he was involved in the illicit photographs of the Princess. The only clear link between the two clubs is that neither of them has Mr Edward Pearce for a member, nor Mr Andrew Neil, nor, now that I think of it, me.
Nevertheless the Editor, whose motto is 'Only Connect', insists that there is an important link, so he must, of course, be right.
It may have something to do with the way in which both clubs are flouting their own principles. The Garrick, far from encourag- ing 'the general patronage of the drama', has refused membership to the only televi- sion interviewer — now that Sir Robin Day is retired — who brings drama to the sub- ject of politics. It is not easy to see how one combines 'the use of a club . . . with the advantages of a literary society' by electing Mr Dominic Harrod and blackballing Mr Paxman. As for the 'works on costume', they seem to have been neglected by all concerned.
At the L.A. Fitness Club, the ethos may still be workout, workout, workout, but Mr Taylor 'has surely broken his own rule about looking at the pretty girls. He spent 12,500 on a Leica camera which he hid in a box near the fitness equipment. He then rigged up 80 feet of pneumatic cable from the camera, through the roof-space and into his office. 'From there,' boasts the Sunday Mirror, 'he had a perfect view of Di.' A trigger puffed air through the cable to activate the shutter. 'By peering through the venetian blind at his office window he knew exactly when to stretch up and squeeze the trigger.' When Mr Taylor caught her on 26 April this year, he was very excited: 'I was pacing around the office wiping my sweaty palms on my trousers . . As a reward for his heroism, those sweaty palms now clutch a reported £100,000.
Let me take this opportunity to state that it is absolutely untrue and scurrilous to sug- gest that the Sunday Telegraph paid 'Mr Harrod a similar sum for his version of the events surrounding Mr Paxman's black- balling. Mr Harrod is a man of honour, and the Sunday Telegraph is not very rich.'
Anyway, one must clearly agree with the general view that the Garrick and L.A. Fit- ness clubs have disgraced themselves. The question is, why did it happen?
It is because too many people today are over-excited, one way or the other, about journalism. A certain sort of stuffy person — though not, of course, Mr Harrod, who is himself a distinguished journalist — thinks that journalists are not creatures one should ever mix with. Mr Paxman seems to such people to embody what they do not like about journalists, appearing thoroughly uppity with important people when he talks to them on television. It is no use pointing out to them that Mr Paxman has a televi- sion persona which is different from the 'Overcrowded? I'll say. We're doing solitary.' character that he would exhibit at the Gar- rick's club table if he ever got there. Forget about 'the general patronage of the drama': they want to make their point.
At the other extreme are the growing numbers of people who think that the only point in life is to get on television or into the papers, and that any suggestion that something should not appear is a suppres- sion of free speech. Mr Taylor, of the L.A. Fitness Club, is obviously one such and he has succeeded in persuading Mr David 'Workout, workout, workout' Banks, editor of the Daily Mirror, to help him. Neither man seems capable of understanding that what he has done is just plain nasty.
And who is there to explain it to them? Not Mr Andrew Neil, although he has been commenting on the case almost incessantly. I cannot see why it is wrong for the Daily Mirror to spy on the Princess on her leg- press machine' but right for the Sunday Times to spy on the state of her marriage. Not Lord McGregor of Durris, the chair- man of the Press Complaints Commission, who has condemned the Mirror. I attended the last What the Papers Say awards lun- cheon at which the same Lord McGregor presented a trophy for the scoop of the year (or words to that effect) to Mr Andrew Morton, whose book that spied on the royal marriage had been serialised by the Sunday Times. And not the Princess of Wales herself. She had it in her power to prevent Mr Morton's spying from getting anywhere but she did not do so.
Some would argue that none of this would have happened if the Garrick Club elected women members. The Princess of Wales could then have joined and a leg- press machine could no doubt have been provided. She might even have persuaded the younger members, like Mr Geoffrey Wheatcroft, to workout, workout, workout, and it is most unlikely that Mr Norman 'Num' Wilcox, the club's chairman, would have rigged up 80 feet of pneumatic cable so that he could photograph them at it. Mr Harrod would have guarded her like Cer- berus against vulgar journalists. But I won- der if it would have been worth it. One can- not be sure that the Princess is the sort of person one wants in one's club, or even in the Garrick, although she might sponsor a revival of interest in 'works on costume'.
All one can do is stand more or less idly by, and propose the admirable Mr Paxman for a club of his own.
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