There’s a clatter of typewriters. An argument in one corner, laughter in another. Someone’s carrying a tray of tea. Others are discussing which pub to go to at lunchtime.
Through it all, you struggle to see what your colleagues are doing through a cloud of cigarette smoke.
Welcome to local newspapers, 1970s style – more precisely the then-thriving South East London Mercury newsroom.
After spells in Guildford and Bath, my dream job had been advertised – sports reporter on the Mercury (Merc to the staff), covering Charlton, Millwall, Crystal Palace and Dulwich Hamlet and other local sports.
It was an eye-opener. I wore jacket, collar and tie on my first day and was immediately put right by my new colleagues – casual dress here.
It was an open-plan office separated by filing cabinets and a few dividing boards to distinguish the departments. The important people – editor, advertising manager, accountant and the above-all editorial director had their own offices.
It meant there was friendly fire between the editorial and advertising departments. To them we were a cost while they earned the money. We regarded them as taking space that could otherwise be used for earth-shattering stories.
The editorial department – reporters, sub-editors and photographers – was an excellent mix of youth and experience. Some saw it as a stepping stone to greater things – many went on to become successful on national newspapers.
But, for some, local newspapers were in their blood and several spent decades on the Mercury. They knew their area well and the readers knew them. They were the bedrock of local papers.
It was a brilliant news area and several news agencies kept us well supplied in court tales of the SE London villains. Our deadly rivals were the South London Press, in Streatham, and the Kentish Independent, in Woolwich.
They were more staid – the award-winning Mercury was dubbed “The paper with the Cockney flavour” by Newspaper Society judges.
This was the days of “hot metal” at the print works at High Wycombe before computers in their various forms took hold. Tuesday night was the time the paper was finished before everyone adjourned to the pub. Three or four journalists made the 80-mile round trip to High Wycombe on the Wednesday to put the finishing touches, taking with them typed reports from any Tuesday night football matches.
The Mercury was way ahead in promotions, planning readers’ trips to the USA and behind the Iron Curtain in Russia.
The Mercury editor inspired the staff to adopt out-of-the-box thinking before the box had been thought of!
It meant reporters were encouraged to bring in off-diary stories rather than those fed to them by the news editor.
There was the time the Mercury ran a feature on a nudist club being set up in the Greenwich Park flower gardens – an April 1 spoof that convinced many readers.
And the time that two reporters interrupted the practice of Wightman Cup tennis legends Virginia Wade and Sue Barker to convince them to take part in a light-hearted brief doubles “match” at Crystal Palace indoor centre.
But there was a darker side. With the print unions calling the shots on newspaper production and often flexing their muscles, the National Union of Journalists often did the same.
It meant non-union journalists were often snubbed and friendships were strained as battlelines were drawn. Whatever you were like out of the office, you had to develop a thick skin in the newsroom. Most was banter, some was jealousy and some hatred. Any promotion was usually greeted by a sarcastic comment or four. Any mistake you made was bellowed out from 10 feet away so your colleagues knew you were in trouble!
But there was the social side i.e. the pub. A friend once asked: “Are you a journalist because you drink or do you drink because you’re a journalist?”
Good point. Whichever of the Deptford High Street pubs was in favour at the time it’s odds-on you’d find many of the Merc journalists – lunchtime and evening. Heated discussions were many. It was an extreme mix of people who had one thing in common – we all thought we were always right!
At that time the Mercury was a pioneer in race relations and held firm against the National Front and any form of bigotry. The editor always gave reporters the space and time to develop campaigning features.
After my time it went on to other milestones, for example, leading the fight to get Charlton Athletic back to The Valley.
I left to go to newspapers in Yorkshire, South London (again), Bedford, Cambridge and Huntingdon – so my geography improved if nothing else! I finally gave into the lure of national papers when I went for two shifts – and ended up working there for 14 years.
Sadly, after a few takeovers the Mercury slowly went the way of many locals as free newspapers, local radio, the internet and 24-hour rolling news killed them off.
It’s sad that many people no longer buy a local paper and those that are free are often poor.
I still have many happy memories of the Mercury, from the time as a schoolboy I used to walk past the landmark offices in Blackheath Road opposite the magistrates’ court to the more modern offices above a pub (of course!) in Deptford High Street.
All are gone now, just the memories remain. But, as they say, you can take the boy out of the Mercury but you can’t take the Mercury out of the boy.
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