SUZANNE BRENNER writes: My introduction to Republican Press was a real baptism by fire. Luckily, I was not fazed by challenges, but the uproar that surrounded my appointment as editor of DARLING was nonetheless a test of endurance. To contextualise this upheaval, perhaps I need to start at the beginning.
A Durbanite by birth, I’d written since my schooldays. Eve Stuart had fuelled my enthusiasm by giving me a column on the Natal Mercury’s women’s pages, which allowed me to open my first bank account by the time I was 16. My penchant for putting words to paper would never leave me and later, while studying for my BA at the University of Natal, Durban, I asked John O’Malley, the editor of the Daily News - whom I didn’t know - to give me a job. I was sent to Owen Coetzer who had just launched Trend, the forerunner of the Tonight supplements.
Owen obliged and appointed me University Correspondent but soon I was given carte blanche to write what I liked, which, after graduation, I continued to do from London where I had gone to study drama. In-between classes, I was perusing adverts for freelance writing jobs. Armed with my cuttings, I headed off for interviews and was fortunate to jump the queue of eager young things to work on stories for IPC magazines among others, which earned me my National Union of Journalists’ freelance card.
I had long vacillated between my dual careers of acting and writing, and followed whatever was the most challenging and rewarding opportunity that presented itself.
After two years in London I flew to Durban to visit my parents when fate intervened to change my plans to return to the UK. Suffice it to say that despite my protestations, I flew to Cape Town and ended up with my first career highlight as co-founder, resident actress and co-writer of a tiny theatre in Rondebosch – but that’s another story, for another time. What is relevant is that running a theatre taught me invaluable managerial skills that would serve me well then and in the future.
In 1980, my next life-changing moment was in the wings when I spotted a gap in the market. I introduced myself to Rex Gibson, editor of the Sunday Express, and shared my concept of a self-contained music-supplement in his newspaper.
Rex fought hard to accommodate me, and at the 11th hour before I was to join Chris Gibbons’ news team when 702 Music Radio was in Eloff Street Extension, fate once again stepped in and I was saved from the dreaded graveyard shift.
With some opposition, Rex found a way to employ me despite the outcry from both journalists and the advertising department – which, without my knowledge, had financed my foot in the door. Carol Lazar and Gwen Gill went to the union but the SAUJ must have decided in my favour because I was given the green light, and so Express Beat was born. This was probably the turning point where I conceded publishing had won the day over my acting career.
It was exhilarating running my own publication without editorial interference and I loved the newspaper environment, where I remained until Rex moved on to the Rand Daily Mail. The change of guard didn’t augur well for me when Ken Owen, the new editor, said he didn’t want to lose me, but … that ‘but’ was the clincher for me because it became clear he planned to move me – and a watered-down Express Beat – to the women’s pages, where Carol Lazar ruled the roost.
Clearly, my independence was in jeopardy and from my perspective, it wasn’t the change I had in mind. I left SAAN confident I would create something new, or that something rewarding and challenging would come my way.
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| Tommy Dell |
I’ve provided some superficial detail of my early self-propelled career to show I was equipped with skills over and above my writing ability, because years later I was to learn there were some people whose noses were out of joint that this person “who wrote about music” seemingly rose through the ranks without explanation.
I think it’s by now also clear that I possessed a great deal of resilience and the strength of character to stave off opposition in the workplace, but nothing prepared me for the next chapter when fate once again played an ace.
Out of the blue I received a call from well-known firebrand in the advertising publishing arena, the late John Farquhar. Little did I know it, but it was to be another of those life-changing moments.
“How would you like to be editor of DARLING?” he asked me. He elaborated that the Hyman family who owned RP were looking for a young editor who identified with the 16-25 target market. As a dedicated magazine reader, for me it was a no-brainer. I was flown to Durban to meet Willem Hyman and had prepared well to talk about what I would do with the niche publication in a market no other publishers were catering for. I obviously made a good impression because I have the distinction – or otherwise - of being the last appointment made by the family before they sold out to Perskor. Ominously, perhaps, I would also be the last editor of DARLING.I accepted the job with the proviso that I could move it from Prospecton in Durban to Johannesburg. Or more specifically, to RP’s salubrious Doornfontein offices (I’m being ironic). But I’m getting ahead of myself. A great deal preceded this relocation.
With my appointment announced in the press before I’d stepped into the Durban offices, there was a growl of animosity towards RP, its methods of doing business and of course towards me. I knew nobody on the staff and they knew little about me so many felt if there should be a change, they ought to have had a shot at applying. Be that as it may, my position was a fait accompli and I walked into the hornet’s nest where the anger was palpable. As the new face in what was after all their comfort zone in Durban, I was clearly at a disadvantage.
Adding insult to injury, the Hymans had not informed Margaret Wasserfall, the incumbent editor – the changeover was a surprise to all. Somehow Margaret and I managed not to see each other and her immediate move within the group must have softened the blow but in all the years we attended the same editorial meetings, we never discussed my appointment to DARLING, or anything else for that matter.
I don’t recall much more about that first day and of course the next bombshell was yet to come. After meeting each member of the small staff, I shared my vision - starting with the move to Johannesburg. I tried to offset the shock by saying that their jobs would in all likelihood not be in jeopardy and that RP would assist the move. Of course that doesn’t begin to describe the upheaval it must have caused for staff who’d given no thought to leaving Durban, who had families to consider and for some, a fear of the ‘big city’.
Others would remain in Durban, where production would continue. After all, it was 1983 and RP had not shed its industrial age methods of printing. The ‘overnight bag’ would keep us in touch with all technical requirements.
To their credit, many staffers saw the bigger picture. The move could provide an exciting new challenge and they grabbed the opportunity, if grudgingly. For some, the resentment towards me would never wane but I could not run a fortnightly magazine watching my back. I had to earn their trust I thought at the time, although I can’t say this was ever an entirely successful exercise - a few of the long-standing staffers simply disguised their disappointment at being overlooked as best they could.
Apart from natural attrition, there was the unpleasant task of replacing some key positions. The late Leon Bennett, Managing Editor of RP, was there to advise me and to assist me with procedure. Over the years I formed a good relationship with Leon, though in later years his loyalty often veered towards ‘company’.
From Leon, I learnt an invaluable lesson early on. “Seventy percent of your time will be spent on staff management,” he warned. And so it was. Looking back now I think I was so consumed by the magazine and my instant love affair with DARLING that I obsessed over the minutiae of every aspect of the magazine, but hopefully along the way I found a better rhythm.
Nor had I realistically thought through what it meant to move the entire magazine from Durban to Johannesburg. Maybe if I had, I would have been more circumspect about accepting the job, but I doubt it.For starters, I had to fly first thing each Monday to Durban where I stayed until Friday. To arrange both my absence from home and my presence in Durban took some juggling, and it was to go on for much longer than I could have envisioned. Add to this equation my fear of flying at the time, and you might get the picture.
The next delivery follows next Wednesday.
