Defending Fergus Pyle

MEDIA: The former Irish Times editor was described in last week's Village as the 'holy fool of Irish journalism'. In fact he was one of the brilliant stars of his generation. By Conor Brady

Walter Ellis's profile of my friend and one-time colleague, the irrepressible Henry Kelly, (Village, 12 August) will have gladdened the hearts of Henry's many admirers and well-wishers.

But the same profile was deeply unfair to the memory of Fergus Pyle, who was editor of the Irish Times from 1974 to 1977. Fergus died eight years ago, aged 62, still serving with distinction at the newspaper that he had joined on graduation from Trinity College, almost four decades previously. As he is no longer in a position to defend himself, I feel I must do so.

It is true that the years of Fergus Pyle's editorship were troubled. Readership and circulation fell. The company lost a great deal of money. And it is also true that in the end, it was the journalists of the newspaper who rose up against his leadership and told the Irish Times Trust that they wanted him gone.

I had recently returned to the newspaper from RTÉ at this time. Although I was not involved, I would have shared the view that a change of editor was necessary.

Fergus was seen by many Irish Times journalists as indecisive and as being out of tune with their own political values. It is true he was a poor organiser and he frequently dithered under pressure. But the years of his editorship were marked by instances of considerable courage and conviction. They also afforded a valuable interval in which lessons could be learned after a heady decade in which the Irish Times had changed out of recognition from its historic roots.

Fergus Pyle's editorship has to be evaluated in the context of time and events.

Far from being Walter Ellis's "holy fool of Irish journalism," Fergus was one of the brilliant stars of his generation. He was sent to Belfast by Gageby in 1966. He brought unprecedented depth to the reporting of Northern Ireland. His insight into its politics was acute. His reporting, whether from the streets or from Stormont, was superb.

After five highly productive years, he became the Irish Times's first staff correspondent on mainland Europe, based in Paris. In 1973, he transferred to Brussels when Ireland joined the EEC. He was a first-class European editor, earning the plaudits of journalistic colleagues, officials and politicians.

When Douglas Gageby stepped down – suddenly and unexpectedly – after the formation of the Irish Times Trust in 1974, Fergus was plucked out of Brussels and brought back to be editor.

There was no training or preparation. He knew hardly any of the newsroom journalists, since he had been on the road for more than eight years. Gageby's peremptory departure had left senior, key editorial figures stunned. Some, with ambitions of succeeding him, were deeply resentful.

The editor of the Irish Times leads by consent of the journalists at least as much as by the warrant of the board. It is probably fair to say that Fergus never fully got that consent – or if he did, it was not for long. Other things being equal, he might have secured it, once the initial shock and resentment died down. But other things were not equal. The business base of the Irish Times was fragile and the editor ended up as the fall-guy.

Even as Fergus took the chair, western economies went into freefall as a result of the Middle-East oil embargo. At the Irish Times, advertising collapsed and what had been a profitable business became a serious loss-maker. Additionally, it had just become saddled with debt – incurred in buying out the ordinary shareholders in order to establish the Trust. Budgets were slashed. The size of the newspaper was hauled back. Editorial innovation and development ceased.

In this appalling vista, the neophyte editor was asked to take over from the already legendary Gageby. The wonder is Fergus was able to hold things together for as long as he did.

He lacked many of the skills that an editor should have. Perhaps in more secure circumstances he might have developed them. Yet his achievements in these adverse conditions were not inconsiderable. The Irish Times consolidated itself as the authoritative chronicler of Ireland's new relationship with Europe. He sustained first-class coverage of Northern Ireland – in particular during the ghastly period that followed the fall of the power-sharing Executive. Of course, there were errors of judgment. Among his ill-advised initiatives was the decision to reduce the type-size, thus aiming to squeeze additional text into a newspaper with fewer pages. And when a charge of seditious libel was brought against the Irish Times he claimed he was off-duty on the night in question. That cost him dear among rank-and-file journalists.

Yet, he courageously ran with the newspaper's series of investigative reports on the Garda "Heavy Gang" in early 1977 and with the subsequent revelations of irregularities within the force's fingerprint bureau. With a freeze on resources, he worked with the late Ken Gray and myself to re-align the pagination of the Saturday Irish Times¸ giving readers a sense of added-value with a new "Weekend" section.

Levered from the editorship in 1977, he went to Trinity College as information officer. He rejoined the newspaper in the 1980s and resumed his writing and reporting career. He opened the Irish Times's Berlin bureau and reported the reunification of Germany. He was subsequently Letters Editor and Chief Leader Writer. He was thoughtful, well-read (in German, French and English) and committed to the newspaper's objectives.

Paradoxically, the unhappy circumstances of Fergus's editorship had the effect of strengthening Douglas Gageby's hand in his second coming. Douglas was given resources in cash and personnel to match his peerless editorial instincts. The newspaper began to come back to growth. Fergus's editorship also taught Irish Times commercial management the lesson that editorial success must not be taken for granted. It is the engine that pulls the whole train. If it falters, or if an editor is reduced and weakened, all the other bits of the machine start to come unstuck as well.

Conor Brady is Editor Emeritus of The Irish Times. He is a senior teaching fellow at the Michael Smurfit Graduate School of Business at UCD where he lectures in modern media