The Fourth Estate

“Is there some problem, Bunty?”

“Only that your father used to go down and see the editor in his office.”

“Did he really?” said Townsend, remaining seated.

“I’ll ask him to come up straight away.”

Townsend turned to the back page, and studied the Flats for Rent column while he waited. He had already decided that the journey to Melbourne every weekend stole too many precious hours of his time. He wondered how long he’d be able to hold off telling his mother.

Frank Bailey stormed into his office a few minutes later, but Townsend couldn’t see the expression on his face; his head remained down as he pretended to be absorbed in the back page. He circled a box, looked up at the editor and passed him a piece of paper. “I want you to print this letter from Jervis, Smith & Thomas on the front page tomorrow, Frank, and I’ll have three hundred words ready for the leader within the hour.”

“But…” said Frank.

“And dig out the worst picture you can find of Sir Colin Grant and put it alongside the letter.”

“But I’d planned to lead on the Taylor trial tomorrow,” said the editor. “He’s innocent, and we’re known as a campaigning paper.”

“We’re also known as a paper that’s losing money,” said Townsend. “In any case, the Taylor t

rial was yesterday’s news. You can devote as much space to him as you like, but tomorrow it won’t be on the front page.”

“Anything else?” asked Frank sarcastically.

“Yes,” said Townsend calmly. “I expect to see the page-one layout on my desk before I leave this evening.”

Frank strode angrily out of the office, without uttering another word.

“Next I want to see the advertising manager,” Townsend told Bunty when she reappeared. He opened the file Harris had delivered a day late, and stared down at the carelessly compiled figures. That meeting turned out to be even shorter than Frank’s, and while Harris was clearing his desk, Townsend called for the deputy circulation manager, Mel Carter.

When the young man entered the room, the look on his face indicated that he too was expecting to be told that his desk should be cleared by the end of the morning.

“Have a seat, Mel,” said Townsend. He looked down at his file. “I see you’ve recently joined us on a three-month trial. Let me make it clear from the outset that I’m only interested in results: you’ve got ninety days, starting today, to prove yourself as advertising manager.”

The young man looked surprised but relieved.

“So tell me,” said Townsend, “if you could change one thing about the Gazette, what would it be?”

“The back page,” said Mel without hesitation. “I’d move the small ads to an inside page.”

“Why?” asked Townsend. “It’s the page which generates our largest income: a little over £3,000 a day, if I remember correctly.”

“I realize that,” said Mel. “But the Messenger has recently put sport on the back page and taken another 10,000 readers away from us. They’ve worked out that you can put the small ads on any page, because people are far more interested in circulation figures than they are in positioning when they decide where to place an advertisement. I could give you a more detailed breakdown of the figures by six o’clock tonight if that would help convince you.”

“It certainly would,” said Townsend. “And if you have any other bright ideas, Mel, don’t hesitate to share them with me. You’ll find my door is always open.”

It was a change for Townsend to see someone leaving his office with a smile on their face. He checked his watch as Bunty walked in.

“Time for you to be leaving for your lunch with the circulation manager of the Messenger.”

“I wonder if I can afford it,” said Townsend, checking his watch.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Your father always thought the Caxton Grill very reasonable. It’s Pilligrini’s he considered extravagant, and he only ever took your mother there.”

“It’s not the price of the meal I’m worried about, Bunty. It’s how much he’ll demand if he agrees to leave the Messenger and join us.”

* * *

Townsend waited for a week before he called for Frank Bailey and told him that the small ads would no longer be appearing on the back page.