Cockups- cops, lead stories and leaks
Tim Pankhurst, arguably the best newspaper editor in New Zealand, is cautious. Eyes that have seen a lot of police action question me - can he trust a journalist with his speech notes?
Tonight he is guest speaker at the International Police Association annual general meeting in the bar of Wellington Central Police Station. He is smart, respectful, dressed in a pin strip suit with a blue-striped tie. He is here to talk about cops, cock-ups, dramas and disasters. The IPA turnout is small, only 15 members. Tim quips that they shouldn’t have said who the speaker was.
Old headlines on yellowed newsprint festoon the bar. Sober reminders of days when cops were leaving the job in their hundreds, when a boy died after cops left him on the street, and an axe that hung over top detectives' heads back in 1999.
Tim Pankhurst says the media and police have a symbiotic relationship and his audience laugh. “Is that what you call it?” Former police officer, Clint Libby quips.
Pankhurst pulls his carefully prepared, double-spaced, bold and written-in-caps notes from his pocket.
“People ask me what an editor does…well, I’m the guy with the shovel who comes along behind the elephant, clearing away the shit, trying to steer this huge beast in the right direction.
“The police and media need each other. Sometimes we don’t trust each other, other times we are like a hand in a glove.”
In fact, the fit has been so tight that one day in Collingwood Pankhurst found himself "sworn in” and left in charge of Golden Bay’s "number one crim".
The young Pankhurst and his photographer had joined local police officer Constable Tony Cunningham on a mission to root out cannabis. In the course of the day, they made a routine call to a member of the local Bikie gang, “a real hard man”. Unexpectedly, he was home.
Pankhurst and photographer were waiting, with due diligence, at the front of the house when the officer, converted into a human projectile, flew around the corner. He was under attack from the huge, enraged gang member who had “wrestled him along a barbed wire fence”.
“By the powers invested in me I hereby swear you in as special constables and require you to guard this man while I search his house,” Cunningham shouted at his hapless associates. Nelson’s “number one crim” flicked his eyes over the new recruits: “You c…s couldn’t hold me!”
Pankhurst is smiling: “We all but called him ‘Sir’. His boots were huge, they had formidable plates on them.” R’
For two young journos, the experience was a scoop. Back at the office Pankhurst was ready to write a feature. He had the headline and the photos. But the editor refused. He thought the appointment as quasi officers compromised the journalists and refused to go to print. Tim still disagrees with his decision.
So what story would make this spunky, balding man lose sleep? Louise Nicholas. “I wouldn’t have survived as an editor if we had got it wrong. We’ve had support from the force as well, men saying corrupt cops need to be rooted out.”
Bad news sells. The Tony Stanlake story with the handless corpse had all the ingredients human curiosity savours. “ Readers couldn’t get enough of it. It was lead story for four days and lifted our sales by 3,000 a day.”
The Dominion Post sells an average of 98,000 papers a day and with more than half sold casually, the front-page lead and photo are critical lures for the ambivalent buyer.
Pankhurst says it will be a sad day when rape and murder are no longer seen as significant news stories. He describes this as the "care" factor. It fits with his mantra for reporters when thinking of stories: "Why should a reader care?"
Around the room, police discuss some difficult media encounters.
Clint Libby is still smarting as he remembers his 111 service being unjustly undermined and misrepresented in the paper. He called the editor in to settle their differences. “ She told me it was the “F…” factor. She said people have got to look at the headlines and say ‘F…!” then they buy because they want to know!”
Pankhurst curls his hand in the air. We can all see the paper he is holding. For a moment he is the dude in the supermarket looking at the front page, deciding whether to buy or not to buy!
Slowly the editor reveals his true self, looking over the querulous customer. His fists are clenched, he’s breathing heavily, full of intimidation. “ Buy it, you bastard!”
Laughter, and questions about crosswords and cartoons punctuate the end of the session. Everyone who turned up is clearly delighted they did.
And the speech notes? Tim looks uncertainly again. “I’ll cut and paste them to you!”
He is a careful, responsible and sceptical journalist to the end
Tim Pankhurst