AT THE time when journalism was still regarded as an honourable trade, there were some good reporters, there were a few great reporters, and there was Jimmy McGuire.
For more than 20 years during his time with the Press Association, the definition of a big story was if Jimmy was present. The son of a miner, Jimmy was brought up in Hamilton but when he left school, at 14, his first job was in a wartime munitions factory. As soon as he was able, Jimmy joined the Hamilton Advertiser, where he spent the next few years learning his trade.
In 1949, he joined the Evening News in Glasgow, one of the three evening papers in the city at the time. After eight years, he was approached by the Press Association to set up its news gathering operation in Scotland. PA is a news agency covering the whole of the UK and serving all the major publishing and broadcasting organisations. Jimmy may never have worked for the Guardian, the BBC, the Times, or, indeed, The Herald, but he wrote for them all and they trusted every word.
Jimmy joined PA in 1957 and for the next 17 years was their chief and, indeed, only Scottish correspondent. During that time he covered every major story north of the border. He attended murder trials and mining disasters as well as political conferences of every persuasion.
Royal tours, state visits and a catalogue of tragedies from Kilbirnie Street to Clarkston from Ibrox to Cheapside, Jimmy recorded them all. His work rate was phenomenal, criss-crossing Scotland and racking up 20,000 miles a year in the process.
And he was prepared to suffer for the sake of a good story.
When typhoid struck the city of Aberdeen, Jimmy went to the lengths of getting himself quarentined for three weeks so that he could cover the story first hand. His output could be staggering. During the Glasgow High Court trial of the notorious murderer Peter Manuel, he was part of a three-man team that put out 15,000 words a day.
It would be a mistake, however, to judge Jimmy's contribution by mere numbers. It was the unadorned, plain quality of it that made it stand out. As adown-to-earth, honest-togoodness reporter, it was Jimmy McGuire covering any major event who had his story finished and filed in plain, simple prose while the cleverwordsmiths and colour writers were still searching for their first sentence.
There was an air of unflappable competence about him, which is why his soubriquet of "faither" never seemed misplaced, even when it came from people several years his senior.
During those 20 years, there were a couple of occasions on which he made the news instead of reporting it. The first was in 1967, when he was awarded the MBE, the second was 10 years later when the Scottish Arts Council presented him with the Munro Award for outstanding services to journalism. Named after Neil Munro, newspaper editor and novelist, it had only previously been won by creative writers such as Jack House and Ian Archer. If anything, it was the latter prize that gave him the greater pride and satisfaction since he felt it was recognition not only for him but for the scores of other unsung reporters who are the lifeblood of any newspaper. Those same unsung reporters could think of no-one who deserved it more.
In 1978, Jimmy made the transition from poacher to gamekeeeper when he joined the South of Scotland Electricity Board as public relations officer. He would have been appalled to be regarded in the same light as the modern spin doctor since he brought the standards of fairness, accuracy and integrity that were his hallmark as a reporter to the SSEB's dealings with its customers, staff and other power generators all over Europe.
His time with the board was brought to a premature conclusion because of mobility problems posed by the onset of a form of multiple sclerosis.
Perhaps not surprisingly for a newspaperman, Jimmy was also a keen amateur photographer and for relaxation was an enthusiastic and occasionally successful angler.
But it was his job that defined the man. There was an occasion when he made it home in time to watch News at Ten with his wife.
"Isn't that Peter Sissons reading the news?" she inquired innocently. "I thought he was only a reporter." He claimed jokingly never to have fully forgiven that remark.
In hindsight, he would probably have regarded it as a fitting epitaph, but, in truth, Jimmy McGuire was never only a reporter, he was the reporter.
He is survived by Connie, his wife of 53 years, two daughters and five grandchildren.
Jimmy McGuire, born August 4, 1926, died February 21, 2005.
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