Rudinblog

Born (again) on the fourth of July

Picture Copyright: Jeffrey Bange.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

 

Aside from the obvious significance (about which more below) July 4^th has a couple of personal connections for me. The first is that it is the date my Dad's funeral took place (28 years ago); the second and, linked to the first in that it was my Dad's job that took the family to Sutton Coldfield in 1968, it was the date just one year ago I met up with some of my old school mates, itself nearly 40 years since we had first met when we started at the Grammar School. As I've mentioned in previous Blogs, this reunion, which included a tour round the old school, sparked off some great renewed friendships after a gap of well over 30 years in my case. Nowadays we hardly ever talk about the school era, concentrating more about today's concerns and interests, not least in many cases both our own kids (often themselves older than we were when we were last all together) and over a surviving parent. Lots of other stuff, too. And having left the area in 1975 and my parents moving in '78 I only skirted that Royal Borough once in the intervening period until last year and now I think I have been back some eight times! Each visit has been brilliant. I guess some people might find it 'sad' in the modern sense; well, so be it. But the one thing we are not, it seems to me, is sad in the traditional sense. Sometimes acerbic, often piss-taking (of each other –always a good sign!), badly behaved, noisy and 'robust' in tone and content of our discourse, yes; 'sad' no, and certainly it is the most rewarding and unexpected twist of fate in my adult life. We're very different characters and have had very different 'life experiences' and have different views on a lot of things but I find this stimulating; who wants to be with people who are exactly like themselves and have the same 'take' on life?.

We are all recognisably the same personalities as we were in the late '60s and early-mid '70s and one of the things this whole experience has taught me is that whilst we may think that we have control over our lives pretty much 95% is determined for us by a combination of genetics and environmental factors, the latter including the period and place in which we were born and grew up. I realise this is hardly revolutionary or original thinking but when you understand this you can be much more relaxed about life. That isn't to say that you don't have a moral responsibility for your actions and have some choice in individual decisions, or that you should be over - fatalistic: it is, though, to recognise that our scope for diversions off the path determined for us is pretty limited and that the best we can do is to make the most of what we have and cherish relationships with those with whom we have shared parts of our lives, perhaps especially in those crucial years of childhood and adolescence; they are the ones with whom we do have a shared experience – good, bad or indifferent - and memory. There was a lot of unfulfilled potential though amongst my classmates, and it was that lack of 'talent spotting' and nurturing, rather than perhaps the more obvious and what now seem quite shocking ways in which the boys, at least, were treated (I've detailed elsewhere the corporal punishment, for example) that upsets me now. The lack of care and respect had more lasting damage than being beaten on our back-sides.

Still, it is never too late to grow and it is good to be able to support and boost people - they have certainly done this for me - and the only bad side of it as far as I am concerned is wondering whether I could have used whatever talents I have in a more constructive way, particularly fighting for the underdog and for those who are denied the 'voice' and platform that has been given to me. I'm sure that my experiences at school, both primary and secondary level, provided me with a fear and suspicion of arbitrary authority and misuse of power and so influenced my political thinking (see below!). I certainly have very powerful memories from those days and keenly associate music with it to provide "flashbacks".

Talking of which…(here's a link!) I was asked to put together a list of five tracks that were particularly significant in my life, along with a few other items, in a conceit that imagined that I was fleeing a burning house and had just time to collect a few such objects. This was for a radio programme on the new formatted City Talk in Liverpool. You can hear this programme -- Take Five -- on my podcast page; the music has had to be cut because of copyright restrictions.

I wasn't very happy with my performance on the programme and although it is a bit rich for such an ardent self chronicler as myself to state, it was a bit strange talking about my personal life and I got a bit tongue - tied on occasions and I seem to say "amazing" and "you know" quite a lot! My voice was also a bit scratchy with the studio environment but there is; it was flattering to be asked to do it especially considering that the first guest the day before was Cherie Blair/Booth! It is also strange to me as a broadcaster to have someone else was only asking the questions but controlling all the nonsense which is! I have to admit that I like to be in control and deciding on the timings, etc. This experience was similar to when I've been on Radio Four in that the producers know that I can rabbit on to a particular time (especially important of course in a 'live' programme), so if they say: "Richard, we need you to stop talking at 56 minutes 42 seconds" then I start trying cramming in too many points and I'm keen to make and end up making them not very well! Overall, I think I'm happiest asking the questions.

But back to the Fourth of July and the USA. It was a joy this week to host a tour of the same radio station and to be able to show off Liverpool from 450 feet above sea level, to a professor and students from North Texas University, who are in the UK for a few weeks, visiting broadcast stations and hearing guest lectures. I had a chat with some of them over lunch and you can also hear that on my podcast page (apologies for the rather desperate-sounding 'plugs' for this!). Aside from broadcasting issues, we got talking about the differences between the American and British political systems. When I have conversations like this with Americans I do realise just how antiquated and indeed feudal is the British system. How an American president would love to have the powers exercised by our own dear Prime Minister in the use of the Royal Prerogative! The fact that s/he can choose ministers without any Parliamentary approval and put whoever he likes in the Upper House of Parliament, without any vetting process within Parliament - let alone by the voters; to declare war, sign treaties, and take away our ancient rights and liberties using the "elective dictatorship". With no constitutional or Supreme Court protection, British citizens – or, rather, Subjects - are just playthings of those in power.

How very different in the USA where Barack Obama spent months getting Congressional approval for his Cabinet members and where free speech is guaranteed and revered, as is Habeas Corpus and all those other rights that the Founding Fathers took from Britain and codified in the Constitution but which we have compromised to the point of destruction; that government really is made the servant of the people, rather than the other way round.

Of course, it is so easy to criticise America and goodness me plenty in Britain do indulge in this -- it is no more difficult than shooting fish in a barrel, particularly as America make such claims of itself. Yes, I know that the Republic was founded after one of the most brutal genocides in human history; that it was consolidated by white European settlers dragging another race in chains and then abusing and segregating them for decades even after the end of slavery; that it espouses values of freedom and democracy around the world and yet has cynically and violently undermined many such emerging and tentative democracies; that, despite the fact that it is the most prosperous nation on earth it still has millions of people, including children, who live in terrible poverty, and even middle-class families often have to choose between a medical operation for one of its members or a college education for one of the kids, that the consumerist, material society, which dominates almost all aspects of life (not least in broadcasting) is founded on the evil triplets of greed, envy and fear, and that, as all prejudices are based on ignorance and all aggression on fear, this feeds into very malign factors in its society.

Yes, yes, yes, all this and more is true. And yet and yet. As President Obama - the "mongrel" as he described himself and the "skinny kid with a funny name" said on his election victory speech: "this is the only country in the world in which my story is even possible." And ask yourself, which of all the countries in the world has the greatest number of wannabe citizens, who ride across perilous oceans, stowaway in trucks and ships, and otherwise vote with their feet? No, it's not nice, welfarist, social democratic countries like Sweden, it's the USA. And it surely can't be just accidental that it is the most prosperous country in the world. Yes, it has fabulous natural resources, but so do many other countries, many of which are economic basket cases, whose rulers build palaces for themselves while the rest of their people starve.

There are many aspects of American self - belief that the British and Europeans in general do not get. They also confuse their lack of cynicism and their seemingly indefatigable optimism, with naivety or even stupidity. It is not. And unlike many Europeans – infected with the 'zero sum' Socialist mentality that you can only give some people more by ensuring others have less - they don't despise other countries because of their belief that they are the most fortunate country in the world. When Americans stand and sing their national anthem or "America the Beautiful" with their hands on their hearts and their eyes shining, it isn't an aggressive patriotism. It especially isn't support for their government -- a lot of American fervour is due to their joy that they don't have a powerful government, that they are free to pursue their own beliefs, their own lives, their own talents, in the belief that "if a government is big enough to give you everything you need, it is big enough to take away everything you have."

It is the only country in the world that has the "right…to pursue happiness" in its Declaration of Independence for Britain, this day in 1776 and takes that right seriously, and has a national holiday called Thanksgiving Day – not one based on saints or military victories, but one which does indeed, offer thanks for living in freedom. Given their overwhelming economic and military power for much of the last century it is, to me, only surprising that they used or abused it so little and that they are so anxious about their reputation – most other Empires (not least Britain, when it was numero uno) would have trampled over many more countries and not given a stuff what other people thought.

And ask yourself, if there has to be one major power in the world -- and history suggests that there always will be -- who else would you rather held that position? I'm afraid it's unlikely to be, say, Denmark or Sweden, so the choice really is really between the corrupt, cynical, destructive and distinctly undemocratic block of the European Union (which to act in unison would in any case means sacrificing what we have left of our rights and independence as a nation state) China, Russia, India, possibly the UAE -- until the oil runs out -- or the USA. If I live to be an old man it is likely I will see China as top dog and that is not something I look forward to with anything other than alarm and despondency. China already has much of the West by the economic balls (and, as President Johnson said, in typically blunt fashion, "When you have 'em by the balls, their hearts and minds tend to follow") and it has by far the biggest army in the world. I think we might still need and be glad of America's preparedness to sacrifice its own cities for those in Europe and elsewhere. And if you think America is a problem when it engages in the world, then watch what happens if it retreats into splendid isolationism. The most dangerous time in my life was, I believe, when the USA was humiliated and lost self-confidence following its defeat in Vietnam in the mid-1970s. The world was safest and most secure when it was the sole superpower in the 1990s.

So, every time I enter the country, I mentally kiss the ground and tonight I shall be raising a toast to you America. And be glad once more that I was born in "the American century".

BREAKING NEWS: MICHAEL JACKSON STILL DEAD

It's probably the right thing -- particularly if one is an occasional blogger -- to ignore the obvious subject for a post, indeed to blog about almost anything else other than the subject that is consuming at every moment thousands of new pages on the Internet. However, I didn't get where I am today by doing the right thing, so here goes!

From a journalistic point of view, of course, how the story broke is probably of most interest. This must be the first "one-off" really unexpected and major news story that was broken on the Internet and had the mainstream media, i.e. the rolling news channels, playing catch up. In my lifetime other equivalent stories -- the assassinations of President Kennedy and Senator Robert Kennedy, the death of Elvis and Diana, "9/11", and "7/7", and the resignations of Harold Wilson and Margaret Thatcher as Prime Ministers (I was working at the BBC for the latter) all broke in the broadcast media and most people heard the news through radio or television, although in the July 2005 London bombings it's fair to say that it was citizen journalists, rather than the mainstream and official sources, that confirmed that they were terrorist outrages and not accidental explosions. It seems likely that all future news stories, unless the event occurs during a 'live' transmission, will probably breakfast on the Internet as unconfirmed rumour or gossip. So, truly, we are in a new era. It is dominating all the media apart, as the man who fixed my son's computer observed, the BBC's Radio 3! There is of course nothing new to say on Jackson or his life in general until, presumably, it is confirmed by the Coroner how he died but The whole circus will go on in the ghastly, grief - tourism way to which we have become accustomed and then it will be the grizzly parade of emotions – real and synthetic - of the funeral: a good day, or indeed week, to bury bad news for sure.

I first became aware of Michael Jackson through I Want You Back in 1970 -- in fact I clearly remember having an argument as to the gender of the lead singer of the Jackson Five. This dispute took place on the school bus and I was in my usual seat with my best mate at the time -- upstairs, right hand side second from the front. I was rather dubious at my friend's claim that the singer was a boy – a year or so younger than us - rather than female. It must be amazing to younger readers that there was no way of verifying this one way or the other - unless it happened to be mentioned on the radio or I suppose you saw a picture in a music magazine - until the group appeared on the next edition of Top of the Pops.

I loved this song from the start and it was one of the favourites and we played in the Tamla (Motown) club which took place at the school one lunchtime every week. There is a different type of themed music each day – naturally it was all lads for the 'Prog' Rock' session and I was the only boy in the 'Tamla' club, but did I care? Well I did care couple years later but the age of 12 I wasn't bothered and one of the girls, who tragically, died some years ago, lent me the next Motown Chartbusters album which had this on so I could tape it on my pride and joy -- a cassette recorder, which is fact I was given as reward for passing the '11 plus' and going to the Grammar School. Anyhow, I still often play the track: it is one of my favourite and best blues - busting or "get up and go" selections and if no one is about at home I'll put it at full blast on the stereo and bop on the tiled floor. I know, you will not get that image out of your mind now, will you?

I do remain remember reading on the Internet that it had the best - that is, most exciting, chord sequence in all of pop and it certainly has been sampled many times so that proves it really is a 'pop classic'. That's the thing with Michael; he was a pop star, not a rock star and certainly not a soul singer. Great to dance to, but, in my humble opinion, no real soul or emotion in his performances, either in recordings or 'live'. And he was not - contrary to the current hyperbole - a genius. A journalist who apparently had spent several years trailing him to write a book that has never been published -- presumably for legal reasons -- even ranked him alongside Mozart on the Today programme this morning, on Radio 4 of all places. The presenter/interviewer was incredulous but he insisted it was a fair comparison. This is ludicrous! Jacko was a damaged and abused child star who turned into a very strange adult; a talented dancer with great stage presence, no question about that, but his music performances are as much due to superb producers such as Quincy Jones, and excellent songwriters, not to his innate talent.

I did see him 'live' at Aintree in 1988. In fact me and my wife were VIP guests -- those were the days when I was a Z - list regional radio celebrity - and we were seated between the former Trotskyist leader of Liverpool Council, Derek Hatton, and the British child star Bonnie Langford: you have to admit I couldn't make this up! Anyway, it meant we got slightly closer to the stage than those in the "cheaper seats" but he was still quite a distant figure and we still had to rely very much on the big screens to get an idea of his performance. Yes, I could admire the stagecraft, the pyrotechnics, the showmanship but otherwise it left me cold. All the emotion was synthetic, whereas Bruce Springsteen, for example, with no more than an acoustic guitar can turn the emotions of a massive stadium audiences on a sixpence because he's real, he has written the songs and you know that he knows what he is thinking about.

For other events in what has been a good week for me, you'll have to go all audio and listen to my Podcast – and next Tuesday I bring my five most significant records to the City Talk (now with extra added ingredients!) studios – actually, we've already recorded the programme, without the records, and Jacko just missed the list, which was compiled after much agony and several changes!

A little bit of politics…

I've resisted boring on about politics in my Blog recently – although I haven't practised that self-denying ordinance in my Podcasts, so anyone wishing to learn of 'Rudin's Solution to our Political Crisis' will have to go there but I can't ignore this dire situation any longer. The news that the new Cabinet will contain seven - that's right, SEVEN! - unelected, unaccountable, un-approved by any parliamentary process, ministers (plus a supernumerary Alan Sugar in some sort of advisory role) is just TOO much! This Cabinet of re-treads includes those have refused to shuffle themselves (entreaties to 'Move Over, Darling' having failed), and Mandelson – who twice had to resign from the Cabinet, and acquiring a lovely (second?) pension from his time as UK Commissioner (a Europe-wide unelected, etc. figure), now 'First Secretary', and the disgraced Geoff Hoon, himself lined up to take over as UK Commissioner (having built himself as a million-plus property portfolio at our expense). And who is taking over from Caroline ('window dressing') flinty Flint, as Europe Minister? Yes, Glenys Kinnock, adding yet another lovely lot of 'allowances' to that bloated family, who have done soooo well out of the EU, with 'himself' (the twice failed and utterly ludicrous and completely compromised and hypocritical) Neil, having done his best to stop any exposure of corruption, and 'sacking' the wonderful Marta Andreason while he was Commissioner, then becoming head of the British Council, with son Stephen was head of the St. Petersburg branch of same (they do love to keep it in the family, those Kinnocks). In his early incarnation as a radical leftie Neil pledged to take Britain out of the EEC – without a referendum – and of course (quite properly) denounced the House of Lords. And now Lord and Lady are both in there, with her Ladyship in the legislature and no Europe minister in the House of Commons. JEEZ!! Are they taking the p**s or what?

And what of the elected members…have any of them actually done anything, run anything, know anything about running a major department of state? Take Yvette Cooper (p-lease!), otherwise known as Mrs (no?) Balls. Here's her CV. Bright woman, no doubt about that. But…!

 

Had one of those 'coming of age' moments this week, as accompanied son to polling booth for the first time. He took his responsibility seriously. I did a pre-voting briefing about the two ballots he would have; how one was for a party (or possibly independent) in the EU elections; the other a straightforward candidate (with party affiliation noted) for the county council. After we had folded our EU ballot for the nth time to squeeze into the ballot box, a comment from the official that the process for working out the winners was very complicated, prompted me to remark: "You should try having to teach election systems". They seemed interested enough for me to embark on a mini lecture on the six electoral systems now used in the UK!

My direct political involvement this year has been in trying to support the anti-BNP Hope Not Hate campaign. My enthusiasm was only slightly dented by my experience of turning up –with around half a dozen other would-be campaigners, about half my age – at St Helens for a planned meeting point to rally and distribute leaflets, to be met by…erm no organiser and no leaflets. Not good.

Yesterday we found out that Lancashire had easily been won by the Conservatives after 28 years of Labour rule, with our seat being one of the switchers, by the modest majority of 165. Last year in the district council elections the Conservative won by three votes. But I am not saying how I voted…I think son and heir was impressed that I didn't tell him, or ask wife how she had voted (although as will be obvious I am not TERRIBLY keen on the current lot!). My parents were the same. I think my early interest in politics was partly sparked by the fact that my parents – who seemed to discuss pretty well everything else – would never tell each other. I wasn't always so reticent, though. As it happened, MY first ever vote was in the referendum, on Britain's continued membership of the then EEC, held a few days after my 18^th birthday. I went with my Mum and Dad to the polling booth, proudly displaying my 'Vote YES to Europe' badge. Since then I've changed my mind several times about Britain and 'Europe' but that will have to wait for another Blog or three!

My first vote in a General Election (and my first as a radio reporter) was in '79 – the most important since '45 to date, and according to an article in the latest 'Speccie' - published after the death of former TGWU leader, Jack Jones, the last of the Soviet agents of the period to have slipped his mortal - the one that ensured Britain did not fall into a semi-Sovietised 'workers' state'. An alternative scenario for the mid-'70s was was a take-over by a right-wing military coup, with Lord Mounbatten as titular head and exposed in The Pencourt File – a book that caused a right kerfuffle, and simultaneously stoked my interest in politics and journalism. As it 'appens, I've been reading Andy Beckett's excellent When the Lights Went Out; Britain in the 70s. Now THERE was a time of national crisis. Politics was REALLY interesting – and important – then.

Last week-end there was a (yet)!) another get-together of some of my old school-mates. Now these are lads (and lasses) who have had no links to journalism or the 'mee-ja' and mostly brought up on council estates and VERY interested in politics. Last Saturday there was an animated conversation about the famous Private Eye flexi-discs that lampooned the Wilson and Heath governments, prompting the sort of 're-enactment' that is normally reserved for Monty Python sketches. This is recalling when we were, say, 13 or 14. How many kids of that age today take an interest in politics? Still, maybe they are right to be so uninterested and cynical. I am getting that way myself…but being one of those irritating optimists I hope that the current crisis will need to dramatic and much over-due reform at many levels.

 

And then, when I get cynical and frustrated about the whole business, I watch something like today's D-Day commemorations and think of the sacrifices – including the ultimate sacrifice – paid for by so many and feel ashamed about giving up.

Little anecdote with which to end, from my Mum; as she hasn't got a blog I will re-tell(!):

She went to London in 1944 as a 17 year –old student. On May 31^st she met up with her Dad (my grandfather(!), whom , as I've mentioned, was a highly decorated World War 1 hero, and in World War 11 was in Intelligence and rose pretty high. He was hopping up and down with excitement, but couldn't say what it was all about, except to say: "Today is Z-Day". What did it mean? It meant that D-Day (geddit?) was five days away.

British Journalism’s Finest Hour

No, the title of this blog post is not meant to be ironic or sarcastic. The investigation and revelation by the Telegraph newspaper group into the massive and seemingly endemic abuse of expenses and allowances by our Members of Parliament - leading to resignations, certain de-selections and probable prosecutions, including the first forced resignation of a Commons' Speaker in over 300 years, and the "sting" by the Sunday Times, demonstrating that two Lordships were prepared to amend legislation for money and leading to their suspension from the Upper House, also for the first time in over 300 years - shows that British investigative journalism is alive and well and doing exactly what it should do: holding the powerful to account and exposing corruption, malpractice and abuse of public trust.

Forced out - Speaker Michael Martin. Will Blears, Mandelson, Smith, Straw, etc. follow soon? (copyright: Telegraph group)

It is important to emphasise this because journalism gets a very bad rap and journalists and their various media are often accused by the lazy - thinking and ignorant of being the cause of society's ills. Furthermore, it shows that at least the larger newspaper groups are prepared to put the time and money into such a story. Like the journalists who exposed the Watergate criminal conspiracy they 'followed the money'. Nor was this -- contrary to a typically uninformed, witless comment from a 'Labour luvvie' so-called comedian on last week's News Quiz -- simply a matter of publishing data that was nicely collated and presented on a computer disk for which the Telegraph newspapers successfully bid.

As the Telegraph has explained, 25 journalists have been working non-stop on this for weeks -- some of them have not seen light of day for long time -- poring over some 2 million pieces of data and with painstaking, indeed forensic work, looking at the connections, for example between the date of receipt items in particular homes and the date of those homes were bought and sold. The sort of work, in fact, which Knacker of the Yard would spend years doing before bringing a prosecution (but probably not bother and prosecute the journalists for buying the disks!), has been done by free, independent media, producing something that is overwhelmingly in the public interest and indeed may lead to a change in our constitutional arrangements. Such a process is, in my view, long overdue but to prevent this post being typically over long I will in the future message to the world!

That is not to say of course that there aren't abuses of power and, yes, privileges of journalists and journalism. The prurient revelations of sexual peccadilloes, carried out in private and affecting no one but the fully consenting adults involved -- such as the story about Max Mosley – cannot, in my view, be justified.

Max Mosley - private life should remain just that. Copyright: Press Association

The defence by newspaper editors of this and similar stories to a recent Select Committee that such people are public figures and so there is somehow a justification in exposing behaviour which most of us would think a little - to say the least -unusual, undermines the very important issue of regulation of the press. The combination of development of de facto privacy law and the fact that we still have in Britain probably the most draconian defamation laws of any liberal democracy, plus the increasing use of the courts to suppress legitimate enquiries under the Human Rights Act, as well as the 'time dishonoured' use of injunctions by the High Court, means that our press is in a constant battle to tell the stories that citizens should be told. Still, the doughty Ian Hislop and Private Eye have just won a very important case against a 'gagging order', so we must live in hope!

Las Vegas turnaround

I arrived home late Monday afternoon and so have had about 72 hours to the time of publication of this post to switch back to British Summer Time and the chill British spring. It's not so much the difference in temperatures (up into the 90s for a couple of days in Las Vegas, although a perfect mid-70s when I left and I suppose mid-50s today) that I notice so much; it's the chill, damp air of England in comparison with the Nevada desert. Las Vegas claims to have sunshine 361 days a year, whereas here it sometimes seems like the same number of days of rain. Still, we don't have to import all our water from miles away I suppose and even compared with southern Europe I always notice with delight the wonderful greenery of the countryside here -- and, indeed, the different shades of green. Anyway, enough with ramblings on climate and soil!

Before I talk more about the Convention/Festival, a quick note about a visit to public radio station KNPR in the outskirts of Las Vegas, kindly arranged by Andrew David of University of Lincoln and community radio station Siren FM. A well-equipped, well-managed service, with diverse output, including chunks of the BBC World Service. Well-resourced, too: budget of around $4.5 million, only $300,000 or so of which comes form the national body – the rest raised themselves. They have two big fund-raising events a year; the usual spring one delayed this year because of an extra campaign for people to pledge time to volunteer on various projects. The Director of Programming, Dave Becker, and President/Station Manager Flo' Rogers – who has spent some time in radio in the UK, so there was a lot o: "oh, do you know?..." and had a poster of the famous 1970 Isle of Wight Festival in her office – were very generous with their time; a return visit is a cert. I heard them both on-air early on Saturday morning. One of the lovely things about such stations is that everyone gets stuck in. In fact, there are two services; one primarily news and talk, the other classical music. Both are, as you might expect, in sharp contrast to the vast bulk of the other, commercial stations in the area, in both tone and content. They are allowed to run sponsorship-type messages but must be informational, rather than making claims for the product or service. An important distinction.

This being Vegas, even the radio station receiver in the foyer is in the form of a slot machine.

 

As usual, as soon as the Broadcast Education Association conference and festival got under way I was too mad busy to even do any "tweats", let alone a blog post, so this is, as it were, recollected in tranquillity. To give you an example of how it goes, Friday ran like this:

0800 Working/networking' breakfast

0900 First session: a team to choose from; I selected (and as chair of the International Division felt I should support) one called International Production Collaborations: Learning Across Borders - a fascinating session about production and student exchanges and how they learn from each other, between the USA, Mexico and South Korea.

1030 - The first of two panels in which I'm making presentations. This is one that I was asked, or offered, to join (I can't honestly remember which way round it happened) called Radio's Demise Has Been Greatly Exaggerated. I was with scholars from San Francisco, as well as the imitable Valerie Geller, who has trained broadcasters and producers in news and general programmes in the USA and UK (including BBC networks) and many other places. My paper presentation was about how the BBC had more than maintained its radio audience share, despite greatly increased commercial competition, and the survival of public service values in British broadcasting. I included some audio and there were the inevitable technical worries but the superb team of technical assistance helped everyone set up in my little Netbook worked a treat. Best of all was the very gratifyingly large audience, which I'm sure had nothing to do with my 'billing' but was still enormously encouraging; it was literally standing room only and indeed people hanging off the walls. We kept the presentations short to allow time for the respondent from Furman University to round things up and to draw comparisons and contrasts between the presentations and even still time for a couple of questions. A young professor came up afterwards and asked to copy of my paper/presentation, which in fact I sent him today after his 'prompt' e-mail. It is obviously gratifying to receive interest and one of the great things about such conventions is of course the bringing together people with mutual interests.

1200 The international juried paper competition presentations. This is when the scholars with first and second placed papers in both the opening and debut sections present a summary of their research and then receive verbal feedback (they already have written feedback) from the paper jury. The Division has some small financial prizes and I been given the checks the previous day at the pre-convention division leaders' breakfast (yes, everything is a working breakfast on these occasions). However, it was agreed that we would, as in previous years, make the actual cheque presentations at the next session:

1330 International Division meeting. This is where I chair the meeting and we had some formal and informal business to do. My main concern is to increase communication and co-operation between scholars in the division, and in particular encourage young scholars from the developing world. It went well and we did manage to make the cheque presentations, apart from one scholar who has gone back home to Darfur. The precedent of the BEA had already 'lunched' me (on Monday) during the RTNDA, to outline what is to anyone else quite a boring development, but quite interesting if you're involved in the Division and the organisation- that is, to create a new geographical division, as well as interest division. As I say, this is rather boring and technical, so will skip the details, but it essentially means we will have another representative at the main BEA board representing all non-US countries, although it transpired at the post-convention chairs' meeting on Saturday afternoon that, at the moment, Canada would prefer to stay with the USA. So be it!

1500. Presenting a paper at the panels that I proposed and we have scholars from three continents represented -- one USA, one Canadian, one New Zealand and myself. The title of the panel is Integrity versus Good Radio, which I thought fitted well in with the 'spotlight theme' as it is called in the Convention overall, of "ethics and …"). My presentation looked at the various scandals involving the BBC, especially on radio and including of course Russell Brand affair. Ironically, it was the USA delegate who was late arriving, due to a combination of medical and family reasons, but he gave an excellent presentation and I was pleased with the way it all went -- again, some technical issues were overcome thanks to good friends at the Convention Centre and the audience was certainly a lot less than in the morning but that's the way it goes. As you may have noticed, there is no lunch on this day of the conference and I had sessions anyway over the normal lunchtime period. Fortunately, Deborah Wilson from Lincoln University – who was responsible for me going to the BEA in the first place four years ago, after she encouraged me to become part of a panel proposal - had half a sandwich to offer me just before the second panel which I gratefully accepted; supplementing my usual emergency rations of a packet fruit and nuts, and a banana!

 

After all that I thought that I had earned the right to skip the last of the formal sessions for the day, prior to the evening presentations to the BEA Media Festival winners and dashed back to the hotel to dump my bags and change. Debbie and her partner Andrew ("the voice of the East Midlands"!) rang to say it would be a good idea if they came to my hotel, as it is much near the convention centres than theirs, to dump their bags and then we go off to the evening to join two Kiwi friends, one of whom,, Brian, who was on my panel and 'pushed' me to go for nomination to succeed him as Vice-Chair/ Chair of the International Division (I have been very fortunate to have such great supporters). Before that, we had a couple of margaritas at Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville -- our favourite watering hole (see blogs and pod's passim).

I think it fair to say we were therefore in quite a 'relaxed state' when we sauntered down The Strip to the Paris complex join our friends at an excellent 'eat as much as you want' (supposedly) French buffet. The inside of these complexes is absolutely amazing -- the lighting and effects make it seem as if you are actually in a street in -- in this case obviously Paris -- with the light in the sky changing and clouds moving across. Due to the brilliant use of perspective most of the time the sky looks as high as - well, the sky - and it's only when you see an odd bit where the light and shadow is not so well placed. or when you see that it's actually running at the top of some street furniture that in fact it is not as it appears.

There is a full morning of sessions on Saturday. indeed until 1330, when there is a post-conference chairs' division meeting, in which I have to give feedback on how things have gone in the perspective of "my" division and of course to hear and discuss others' viewpoints and any other vital information regarding next year. As the panel proposals have to be in mid August it is pretty much a 12 month cycle anyway.

My choice of which sessions to attend is dictated by three main considerations: those that I must attend (including those, obviously, that I am involved in as chair or panellists); those that I should attend (perhaps to support colleagues or because they involve my division) and those that I want to attend. The first take up most of the sessions on Thursday and Friday but on Saturday I managed to attend a session which is not directly related to my work or research but one which I always attend - on radio history, which was fabulous.

Anyhow, the day began with a slight and unexpected disruption to my plans as I arrived at the Monorail only to find it not be operating for a couple of hours due to 'technical reasons'. I have never known this happen -- the Monorail is usually as reliable as Swiss railways in my experience but in fact there had been some problems earlier in the week although they hadn't affected the times that I was using it, and someone whom I mentioned a previous blog post, who had been to 'Vegas two months ago, said it hadn't run for the entire week she was there! Anyhow, there were two students behind me when I got to the station and when I gave them the bad news they looked aghast. I said "don't worry -- it's not far we can get a taxi – I'll pay". So we went back through the hotel to the taxi rank and got one straight away and arrived at the Convention Centre in time. Even though I had offered to pay they had given the driver five dollars as their contribution which I thought was very sweet and of course I gave it back to them. They were extraordinary grateful: "we don't know what we have done otherwise -- we didn't have a plan B" said the girl. They are nice kids, just about to graduate and not sure about jobs. The girls is studying journalism but as there were few journalism jobs she had already worked out that she may have to do something else -- she a DJ on the college radio station and said she was going to go for that kind of a job if needs be. Of course, due to the proliferation of voice- tracking and the lack of the old-style tryout slots overnight, even that may be quite tough. I feel for them all -- it is a tough time to be going into the business and perhaps an even tougher one to survive in it.

 

OK, well I am over 2,000 words now so I'll stop even though there is much more I'd like to put down. More photo's and videos on my Facebook page, plus a Podcast on my, erm, Podcast site.

 

I'll probably just get over the 'red eyed flight' and the time difference for Sunday … when I have to be up at 0500, as yesterday I was booked to guest on the Sunday breakfast show on City Talk. I am SUCH a media tart!

It’ still morning in America

Due to time constraints this will have to be (mercifully?) brief. Am writing and sending it from the Bloggers' Lounge in what they call the Pavilion at the Las Vegas Hilton.

Conferences have been excellent so far. Main event starts at usual with us all standing for beautiful, solo rendition of the "Star Spangled Banner" and a prayer, or invocation as they call it, thanking God for making this the most prosperous nation ever seen on earth and reminding us of the responsibilities of broadcasting to make people's lives better. Even the CEO of the 0organisation ends his speech as per usual with "God bless this beautiful country."

The BBC are in town, partly to promote the new College of Journalism site which is going external in the next month or two. They had loads of examples to show us, ethical questions posed and good practice to discuss. Interesting to get different US/UK perspectives.

The Radio Lunch yesterday had Dave Ramsey – whose financial advice show is syndicated on over 40 stations giving the keynote speech. Very inspirational and some great one-liners about finance and the recession and how it compared to the good days just gone when you didn't have to be smart to make money: "Even a turkey can fly in a tornado" was one. A friendly crew all round with some very important types, including a CNN anchor taking the trouble to come over to 'our' table to say 'hi'. Loads more sessions on the way that broadcasting is going, where the jobs are going to come from, the technical developments and what the research says about what audiences want. Good news is that *even* 18-24 year olds still want local TV stations are doing more local news than they were a year ago. Broadcasting is faring better at every level than newspapers.

 

Naturally, this being America, everyone is confident and imbued with eternal optimism that the best is yet to come. This mood is infectious. The educators are now in force big time for the excellent 'cross-over' day, bringing together the industry people and the students, who can have their air-checks and newscasts critiqued by the industry professionals, make excellent contacts and find out how to get a job. The future of course is the young people. I love talking to them. They are so polite and have great social skills and full of enthusiasm and ideas. The guys, of course, are far less confident than the girls (all perfect hair, perfect teeth, natch) – they remind me of what I like to think I was like at that age: I mean about the goofy guys, not the perfect…

 

Still, boost to male ego with an interesting encounter last night in the hotel elevator. I did my usual show-off thing of leaping into the lift at the last minute, which gets everyone gasping, thinking that I am going to be cut in half by the closing doors, or castrated at best. Anyhow, by the time I reached my floor there was just me and two very attractive young ladies, who looked just like typical high school kids. I made a joke about something and just as I was getting out at my floor one of them said: "By the way, you smell deliciously orangey." "Oh, thanks", I said. It's a new cologne I bought at the airport." "Mmmm, well, it's good"

It's a different culture, of course but would 'normal' young lay-deez make a comment like that to a middle-aged guy? Were they on the game…or just a couple of p$%!k teasers???

 

Am trying to update more frequently at http://twitter.com/richardrudin and on Facebook, and RTNDA site has lots of video, blogs and updates but must go now to see some 3-D TV (it's the future, you know).

News from Las Vegas

This is the first of what I hope will be a number of dispatches from this year's National Association of Broadcasters (NAB), RTNDA (Radio and Television News Directors Association) and Broadcast Education Association (BEA) conferences in Las Vegas. This year there is a 'bloggers' room' in what is known atr the Pavilion at the Las vegas Hilton, with free Wi-Fi access, but it is too lovely outside to be inside when you don't have to be (plenty of time for that!), so I am 'sat sttting' outside the north hall of the massive Las Vegas Convention Center. It's a sunny, beautiful day, just about perfect.

This is the first ime I have arrived in the city before Sunday PM. In the past I have landed around 1p.m., checked in to the hotel, shaved, s*!t showered and changed and then headed straight for the Hilton to pick up my registration stuff and attend the first 'SuperSession' around 4p.m. By the time I gfot to bed the first night I had been up nearly 24 hours, had an 11 hour flight and adjusting to an eight-hour time difference. Then it was full conferencing through the week until Saturday PM, then back Sunday afternoon. I am not complaining – it is a fantastic opportunity and I always find it stimulating, informative and of course there is socializing in the evening but it is a bit of a killer and not the 'jolly' that my students and others tend to assume when you say you are going to Las Vegas for a week, for 'business.'. So, this time – prompted by the withdrawal of direct flights from Manchester – I arrived on Friday and so have now had almost 48 hours to adjust the Rudin body clock and generally regain equilibrium before the 'madness' begins. I even -0 foir the first time in 5 years, please note! – yesterday had a trip outside the city, to the Hoover Dam, and Grand falls. I must emphasise – before 'Rudin-Gate' gains momentum that this was NOT at public expense! I shall have to do another Blog on that or maybe a Podcast because there is far too much I want to note and this would turn into a Rudin marathon Blog par excellence if I do it all here!

 

Anyhow, it is all quite relaxing here this stage of the Convention; more people are arriving all the time and there are even some 'conferences within conferences' that began yesterday but the 'real deal' doesn't get underway until the first 'super session' (on future of broadcast news) in about four hours' time. I have just been into the NAB store (always bad for the 'plastic' and bought three books (more luggage weight!), including one from Michael Keith (and absolutely top broadcast scholar and an extraordinarily modest and unassuming bloke) that he had written with one oif his chief collaborators, Hilliard called 'Dirty Discourse' on (supposed)indecency in U.S. broadcasting, which looks a hoot and it fits in with the theme oif this year's BEA Convention on ethics (you'll have to forgive lack of links in this Blog-too fiddly to try and do all that with my Netbook perched on my knee as I sit on this outside bench!).

I have just got my conference badge and bag – the latter quite revealing. You can tell a lot about an industry's financial position from its conference bags, I reckon. The first one I attended three years ago as a 'full conference' included a fantastic bag - which I use everyday at work - plus lot of goodies. This year's a cheap, insubstantial-looking effort, containing a program, and, er that's about it. Nothing to get excited about, that's for sure. Tomorrow the RTNDA has is a special 'what the hell do we do know?' session at the RTNDA (well, that's my take on the session name. They are trying to put a brave face on it but, like at home, the whole industry is pretty much in crisis. Advertising revenue is down, as are audiences and, naturally, the number of people who can attend Conventions like this is also down. Which is a pity, because, as ever, there are some excellent-sounding sessions over the next few days (and that's before 'my' conference begins). Last year there were some 113,000 attendees at the NAB/RTNDA; this year they are predicting it be well under the 'psychologically important' 1000,000 mark. Still, it may mean that the lunch-time queues are reduced (always look on the bright side…).

Until next time…Richard Rudin, News at whenever, Las Vegas.

Atlantic Crossing…

Gatwick Airport, Sussex, England

 

Am atend of what is now a two-leg air trip to Las Vegas (thank you BMI for cancelling the direct flights from Manchester!). My various electronic gizmos (including the Netbook and mobile phone gizmo being used to send this)caused the security staff at Manchester a few minutes of intense discussion and probing. They were excellent, though: thorough, efficient and courteous; friendly and cheerful, indeed. You can't ask for more.

So, I am seeing two airports and indeed three terminals, as tomorrow I have to cross from north to south at Gatwick – on its own train. Such excitement!

Still, I like airports - there is a fascinating world-within-a-world aspect - and am just a bit disappointed that the view from my room is one of the car park, rather than runways, control towers, etc.

A bizarre question from the (foreign, naturally, with English as probably fourth or fifth language) receptionist. Did I want a non-smoking room?

Me (taken aback). "Oh, um, I thought they were all non-smoking now".

Receptionist (fixed smile never faltering): "So, you want non-smoking?"

Without waiting for confirmation, she continues setting up the key-card, etc. Of course, two seconds later I wanted to say: "Oh, sorry! I forgot! I am a heavy smoker – a SMOKING room if you please!" What would have happened then?

Have I missed something- does not the smoking ban extend to airport hotels? And, sure enough, the room proudly displays a 'no smoking' reminder. Well, that's far enough; visitors from, say, the USA, might need a reminder. Bizarre, anyway.

The atrium is quite plush with lots of tempting bars and restaurants – and even a library. I haven't even got an early start tomorrow so can chill tonight and, with luck, have a good sleep, without constantly waking and fretting I might have over-slept (despite at least three alarms! Gawd, I am a worrier…).

Next dispatch should be from Nevada.

(Blimey, you're thinking: a 'Rudinblog' in barely 300 words!!)

Easter memories/watery wireless/moist eyes

Easter Monday, 2009

 

Easter has always been a really happy time for me. Even as a child I think I found Christmas a bit overwhelming: too many expectations, too much tension, too much time cooped up, terrible weather and worried about travelling in same. Whereas Easter is spring, out of doors, relaxed, few expectations, but lots of get - togethers with family and friends. Relaxed, lovely, all the adults seemed very happy and not distracted by worrying endlessly whether the sodding turkey was done enough or whether they and bought the right presents.

As a child we spent most Easters with family friends down south – where I was born but must point out that we moved north when I was about 18 months and there was nothing I could do about it at the time! My dad spent a few years working at a research institute in Surrey and Mum got pregnant with me during what was evidently a very happy period in their early marriage. According to Mum (bless here!) mine was a trouble-free pregnancy and birth and I was a very contented baby (I was born at home with only the midwife present as the doctor had pronounced in his visit that I would be some time yet but, well evidently I started my life-long trend of surprising people just when they think they'd got me sussed, by popping out sooner than expected -you can make your own jokes up here). Anyhow, my Mum and Dad were good friends with another couple, also with two boys, though a bit older than me and my brother (I was always the youngest!) and when my Dad got a job in the midlands they kept up their friendship.

I used to love going down there – first the excitement of driving around London (no M25 then of course) and, amongst other things, spotting the Police boxes – just like in Dr Who! Which would, of course, set me off 'singing' the theme tune, impersonations of Daleks, etc.

Then it was putting out the Easter eggs in a row (maybe three or four in a good year) and the anticipation of Easter Sunday and the scoffing of same, with some rivalry as to who had the best/most and who could eat them the quickest. These sons were great fun – they and a big garden and we would have some amazing games' tournaments. In the evenings, the adults got 'merry', playing ludicrous and never-ending card games with increasing hilarity – one of which, 'Up the River', had the most arcane and complex rules, which my Dad claimed to be know. Too young to play a hand myself I would be 'helping' him and explained his strategy in whispers. At we shared a room with them and we were sent off to bed, naturally there was high jinx up there, with adults coming in every so often to tell us to shut up and get off to sleep. One thing that was a bit strange to me and my brother was the bed-time prayers – which, coming from an atheist household, we never did.

When I was a bit older I used to go with the father to an open-air service on the Surrey Downs. He had a fantastic baritone voice – again, due to my Heathen upbringing, the only hymns I knew were the ones we were forced to sing at school ("and DON'T smile or I'll knock that grin off you", etc) so I couldn't really join in. Some happy religion this was!!). Anyway, I have strong memories of the early morning mist giving way as the hills filled with this sounds of this service.

 

Anther Easter was spent with this family on the Norfolk Broads – UNBELIEVABLY exciting to share an eight berth (SLEEPING on a boat and everything! Fantastic! Playing these evening card games had an added hilarity and excitement on board. By day I would occasionally be allowed to take the wheel (obviously with a responsible adult's hand hovering over the tiller!). I am rarely happier than when in, on or over water. Another time we rented a cottage in Dymchurch – locale of the Dr Syn novels about smuggling, which of course was a gift to my ever-fertile imagination.

 

The only time I have been abroad at Easter was when I was 14 (nearly 15!) and my Dad booked us on unbelievably cheap cruise. I think it was just £50. Even then that was a real bargain – my Dad couldn't work out how they could make it pay; he was right – a year or so later the company went bust. It was during this trip that I was exposed to another, rather different form of religious celebration; in Athens and Corfu, where the colour of the elaborate floats, and the joyous celebrations made me think again about how important religion was to 'other people'. But not for too long. That holiday is chiefly remembered for meeting a gorgeous Canadian girl. Cindy had cornflower hair, blue yes, freckles, a great sense of humour (well, she laughed at my stupid jokes and antics); gorgeous. She was with another girl and her family and as it turned out both families were loaded. Not that the latter interested me. I think we met the girls as my brother and I were playing some game on deck. Both these girls were a great laugh and it was real holiday romance. When we parted at the airport Cindy said: "I'll write you as soon as I get home" Note that. "I'll write you". Not "write to you", which for some reason made a deep impression on me. But, regardless of this North American grammatical curiosity, the big question was: would she? (Write, I mean!!) Well, dear reader, she did.

About a fortnight later an air mail envelope arrived, containing a lovely, chatter letter, full of nonsense, referring to all the daft things that had happened on the cruise, in jokes, lots of exclamation marks, in loopy, girly handwriting. Many times my hand went over….that writing. Her hand had been on that paper! Even better, she had enclosed a high school photo – one of those formal jobs, with a blue back-ground, which showed up her utter loveliness perfectly. I had this propped up on my desk in my bedroom throughout all the next year as I worked for and revised for my 'O' levels. Very distracting! (There have been serious studies explaining the difference between academic attainment of boys and girls at around that age and it can be mostly attributed to the amount of time that, erm, boys spend thinking about girls and indulging in, ahem, 'quantitative easing', when they should be studying periodic tables, or the origins of World War 1, or whatever. Makes sense!). Either way, at home or in the class-room my attention often drifted onto Cindy, or radio, music - or all three.

Anyway, back to the southern escapades though keeping up the maritime theme: being in the midlands, the reception of the mid-'60s pirates was very iffy. But south of London, of course, they boomed in, so I heard these stations at Easter-time (as I, much later, later listened to Capital Radio and the first 'Help a London Child' in 1974). I also heard them when we holidayed in the summer at my grandparents' chalet near Skegness. Well, it was hard to avoid the stations on the beach. The thought of these guys broadcasting on ships just over the horizon and playing this amazing pop music – all day and much of the night – was fabulous to me. And of course, Easter '64 was when it all started. I am sure that Ronan O'Rahilly – whose paternal grandfather was killed in a hail of machine-gun bullets by the Brits during the Easter uprising of Easter 1916 and was commemorated in a poem by W.B.Yeats – chose Easter as the time to launch his 'love bomb' revolution of the air-waves.

In Easter 2004 – handily, just after I had Broadband at home – BBC Essex put together a station broadcast on its AM frequencies and over the Internet using a Lightship just off the Harwich coast. This reunited many of the big names from the 'pirate' eras, as well as younger presenters who were not alive even alive during the mid-'60s. A brilliant idea. I did an academic paper and conference paper on this (no less), with an article published in Media History. In August 2007 they did the same thing, to commemorate the 40^th anniversary of the coming into effect of the Act which forced most of the stations off the air. Only the two Caroline ships (north and south) heroically carried on, with an estimated 15 million listeners across Europe listening at midnight on August `14^th/15^th to the Civil Rights anthem "We Shall Overcome", The Beatles' "All You Need is Love", preceded by the proclamation, so redolent of Britain in May 1940: "We are now alone"! Real goose-bumps stuff. The DJs on the 'revived' ship included Johnnie Walker, who put together the extraordinary, hyperbolic Man's Fight For Freedom broadcast, in August '67. I was on a family holiday in Vancouver in August 2007 but the Essex station received prime-time TV news coverage on the CBC evening news. Extraordinary.

Now they're at it again! This week-end'/s broadcasts have been terrif' and a reminder just how crap most of modern radio is. The DJs – now well into their 60s – are on sparkling form and have even been able to choose their own music – not, as one observed, the same 300 songs as on most commercial radio today. Of course, they haven't got to earn their living through advertising or sponsorship. I'll have to do another Blog post on all of this at some stage. For the moment though, for the 'true' story of the importance of these ships on politics, culture, as well as broadcasting try this article . The ludicrous Curtis movie (see previous post), which although providing the pretext for a further 'blast from the past' is, erm, 'Bollocks, Actually',

But if this is not to become a novel-sized length blog I must finish with a note about the memorial service for former Radio City (City Talk) presenter Phil Easton. This was well over a fortnight ago but it was just too upsetting for me to sit down and write about it until now. It was a lovely, if terribly poignant, celebration of Phil's life; first at Liverpool Cathedral. I asked my fellow guests either side in the 'friends and family' section if they were 'blubbers' – 'cos I definitely am. Fortunately, they weren't. But there was not a dry eye in the cathedral when son Dan did his eulogy. After numerous tributes from the music and entertainment worlds, including some stunning live performances, it was Dan's observation that his Dad "asked for nothing for himself…nothing at all…except for a cold beer and some sun" (Phil was due to retire to his Spanish villa at the end of this year) that broke my efforts at self-control. The service ended with a video compilation of family videos of Phil accompanied by "You'll Never Walk Alone." Almost unbearable. I am sure I was not the only one who was inspired by what were obviously heartfelt and sincere accolades to such a lovely guy to try and be a better person. This is a wonderful legacy.

Afterwards at The Cavern, things were naturally more light-hearted and, of course, it was good to catch up with some folks whom I'd not seen for many years and some I'd never met – like Radio City's original Chairman. The fact that Phil has a plaque on The Cavern wall, not far below John Lennon's, shows the esteem in which he is held but the love and laughter from the people who knew him is the real testament to his life and to the man. We are all the better from knowing him.

 

I know it was an honour for those organising the whole event to do this but also an emotional and organisational ordeal. The lovely Lesley ('Molly') Marshall (who was programmes' administrator – or some such title! - when I was Programme Controller at Radio City Gold, and continues to be the person who really runs the station(s)!), did a lot of the hard work and is another person who is a life-enhancer and whom I've never known to be 'moody' - even though, when I spoke to her the next day, she was, understandably, emotionally exhausted. As one of the presenters said to me on my first day at the station: "the world would be a much better place of there were more Lesley Marshalls." Very true.

 

The Sunday before last I was on Phil's last station – City Talk – as guest on a show currently being presented by Will Batchelor (link is to his regular on-air slot), who did a terrific job: just right for that time on a Sunday and I had at least three really good on-air rants and felt much better afterwards! Highlights available soon on my Podcast page (maybe!)

 

But now I must prepare for my trip to the Mojave desert.

 

Next dispatch, all being well, from Las Vegas.

The death of local journalism?

A very interesting discussion in this week's Media Show on Radio 4. The lead item was about local newspapers, which are now in such a crisis there is talk of most of the collapsing within THREE MONTHS! The industry has been hit by a double-whammy of cyclical (the general financial recession hitting advertising across the board) and structural (the disastrous migration of local advertising – especially classifieds – to the Internet). Titles are closing daily and those that are left are often barely more than glorified press-release re-writes from the council or other bodies, plus the usual crime stories. There is very little investigative journalism; not surprising as the editorial staffs are so small they hardly ever get the chance to go out and talk to people – which, despite all the electronic communication wonders of the day, is usually what produces 'real journalism' : you know, something that somebody, somewhere would rather not be published, all the rest being advertising.

As the programme's discussion highlighted, the rapid and seemingly accelerating decline in local newspapers is linked with a crisis in democracy – especially at the local level. Turn-outs in local elections are the lowest in Europe and scrutiny of how local decisions are made and public money being spent surely at all-time low. You can't really blame people for not bothering to vote in local elections – what isn't decided in Whitehall and Westminster is spent by unelected and unaccountable QUANGOs and the European Union (but DON'T get me started on that!). But if local journalism was more vigorous and challenging maybe this would improve as public pressure increased for more transparency and more local decision-making. There is clearly a strong case for treating journalism as different from other commercial activities.

So is the only answer public subsidy as such? One of the programme's guests, Polly Toynbee, clearly thought so and the case has been taken up by other commentators, including The Independent's Johann Hari. But what chance of this when the public finances are in such dire straits and seem certain to remain so for at least the next two parliaments – by which time it will certainly be to late to save local journalism. As Toynbee pointed out, the idea that the Internet will produce serious, inquiring journalism (as opposed to adding to the commentariat…he who lives in glass house!) is a chimera, as no one has found how to pay for this on Internet-only sites. It costs money to send out reporters for days or weeks on stories and the existing and often excellent Internet sites are parasitic on the paid-for 'dead tree media'. Now that people are used to receiving their 'news' for free you are not going to be able to make them pay for it and the advertising on the Internet isn't going to pay for original local journalism.

We know that ITV regional news will come to an end by 2012, when they lose their 'analogue advantage' and that channel is, of course, facing its own crisis – the worst in the sector's history.

What I don't think came out with sufficient vigour in the programme is the voracious demands by newspaper companies for their 'papers to be 'cash cows' – often demanding profit ratios of 30%, which few if any other industries demand. Stripping out costs, with journalist being the most expensive factor, helped to increase the profit margins in the short term but of course has resulted in poorer 'products', which the public is understandably reluctant to pay for, leading to a vicious cycle of declining circulations and an exacerbated loss of advertising, leading to further rounds of job cuts and amalgamations, etc.

Added to that has been the abandonment of many of the training schemes for journalists. Long-gone are the national indenture-ships of the sort I had, where gaining a place on a course was the hard part but once taken on you were virtually guaranteed a job because the places were limited to the number of trainee slots available nationally. You had proper training for a year, then taken on as a trainee and then further examinations and tests at the end of the two-year period. During which time you really learnt your stuff and had bags of experience in courts and councils (all of which were always staffed) and, perhaps more importantly, had your own 'patch' in which you were expected to 'nurse' for at least two days a week; just going out to talk to local contacts - the vicar, the cop shop, the postmaster, the guy from the Chamber of Commerce, councillors of course (when they were 'off duty'), and the publican (always a fine source of stories and your expenses would be scrutinised to see if you had claimed enough for imbibing with such contacts!). Stories that you never get on the end of a telephone or e-mail. The best journalism usually results when you have looked people in the eye and you can judge how far you can push them and making it harder for them to lie, deceive or conceal. Plus, they give you background on potential stories and tell you things in confidence which might well lad to other stories, etc. I talk to journalists now who have NEVER done this sort of stuff, indeed some who have NEVER attended a court or council.

So you wonder what and whom we are training and educating for.

The social skills of being able – and wanting – to talk to people never leave you. I get 'stories' every day, quite effortlessly, indeed unconsciously because – unless I really am in a tearing rush - I always talk to people I meet in shops, at the garage, at the gym, the pub, etc. I never stop being fascinated by what people know, what they're thinking and what they do. Small example: the Sunday morning after the one-before-last school reunion(!) we were back in the pub, the scene of the previous night's revelries, fo what was an amazingly popular option for locals of Sunday brunch (this is about 10 a.m.). Anyway, I was getting the coffees in for my wife, who was sitting with two female former class-mates. I noticed that the girl serving me had been barmaid the night before, so I start asking her about the shift patterns, etc. As I bring the coffees I notice the three 'girls'/ were giggling.

"What's up?" I ask.

"You'd talk to anyone, you!" exclaims the current Mrs Rudin. It's true. I mean, I am not saying I didn't notice that barmaid was an attractive young woman but I would still strike up a conversation, whichever gender or age they happened to be.

The other week I had a fascinating conversation with the (middle-aged) woman who runs a local, independent garage which I favour for my fill-ups. I started chatting and she asked me what I did. When I told her I lectured in journalism she exclaimed: "Oh, that must be fascinating!"

She said that she loved to compare how different newspapers reported the same story and, indeed, she had a selection of that morning's press spread in front of her. In other words, someone who left school at 15 and has never had anything to do with the media professionally was, purely for her own interest, doing something that forms part of our university course in journalism! You should never underestimate people. And we shouldn't underestimate how important is journalism. I hope we don't appreciate it when it is too late to save.

Finally, back to The Media Show. The final item, was about the effect of the 1960s off shore 'pirate' radio stations - with the peg, of course, being the new and much-hyped Richard Curtis film The Boat that Rocked, which is on general release next week. As someone who has been fascinated by such stations for decades and has been published in academic press (no less) on their impact, I know that this feel-good, popcorn movie is going to annoy me. Just judging from the press coverage and the trailers it is obvious it bears very little relationship to what 'really' happened and has, as it were, missed the boat on the stations' true legacy and impact, which is actually far more interesting than is portrayed in the movie.

Even this programme item got it wrong: small point I know, but the Act which drove most of the 'pirates' off air was the MARINE (etc.) (Broadcasting) Offences Act, not the MARITIME Offences, etc. And it did not give the government the power to impound the ships (they were in international waters and the stations themselves could not be made illegal at that stage) but the Act did made it illegal for UK citizens to work for, supply or, most crucially, advertise on them. BBC cuts in production staff are also feeling their effect!

Anyway, no doubt more on this when I have seen the movie!