The life of a newspaperman
THE life of Aengus Fanning is best defined by the promise in the parable of the talents that those who use their abilities to the fullest extent will be "set over many things".
A second less likely template is provided by Charles Haughey's claim that "most people live miserable lives". Aengus did not go to the lengths of Mr Haughey to avoid a life lived in a state of mildly distressed banality, but his story is a testament to the possibilities offered by iconoclasm, enthusiasm and genial ruthlessness in the pursuit of excellence. More importantly still, via the pages of the Sunday Independent, he inspired a timorous, post-colonial provincial country to seek better ways of living.
The measure of the span of his editorship was such that when he took over Garret FitzGerald was the Taoiseach, while in an America ruled by Ronald Reagan, future and now past political giants such as Bill Clinton were only a twinkle in the Democrats' eye. In sport Alex Ferguson had still not won the Premier League, while Mick O'Dwyer would win three more All-Irelands with his team of the immortals.
Albert Reynolds claimed "it matters not how long one occupies any position in public life but what one achieves whilst in the position". In a career that married longevity with achievement, the well-publicised distaste for conventionality of Aengus was epitomised by the then shocking decision to end the tradition of devoting pages of deferential coverage to political Ard Fheiseanna. This same ethic, allied to a natural suspicion of political and clerical absolutism, drove his courageous decision to test the bona fides of a peace process that veered towards the amoral territories of appeasement. And when an over-complacent political elite failed to realise that gangland crime was endemic he sponsored the courageous reportage of Veronica Guerin.
The famous '03 girls' were emblematic of Aengus Fanning's core belief that the best of journalism was always subversive. His bohemian spirit revelled in the sanctimonious horror that issued from the usual crypts of respectable opinion, over-attractive young women being given a voice. Indeed, in a final act of vengeance on the men in grey suits he even sent the 03 girls to cover one of those detested Ard Fheiseanna.
When it came to this instinctive liberal, who espoused the radical non-conformism of a Cobbett, his politics was most acutely captured by the famous First World War slogan about serving "neither King nor Kaiser but Ireland". It was not accidental that his theories on the economy were heavily influenced by Keynes for the natural optimism of Aengus recognised the importance of 'animal spirits' in building a newspaper or stimulating an economy. This meant he was particularly distressed by the dead orthodoxy of austerity that crept over the State in recent years. By contrast, Aengus was a man in flow during the era of the Celtic Tiger where his newspaper achieved a unique synergy with that liberal, inquisitive, sometime amoral but often warm-hearted, acquisitive Ireland that preferred excess even if it led to occasional error. During that time he developed a particular interest in the life of the high street which, though strange in some eyes, was entirely logical for, like all great social commentators he knew gossip gleaned from cafe society is the first draft of history. In that spirit the most apposite compliment to this life of a newspaper man was spoken privately by a political mandarin last week who murmured, somewhat nervously, "Aengus, yes, he was a bit of an elemental force."
That he was.
Originally published in
