The Shrewsbury Chronicle has served its community since 1772, through the reigns of nine monarchs, and is one of England’s great weekly newspapers.
But like many of the good things in life, it’s easy to take for granted.
They say that people who live by the seaside hardly ever visit the beach, and of course those of us lucky enough to live in a beautiful town like Shrewsbury rarely look up above the shopfronts to appreciate the lovely architecture above.
The same principle applies.
As it drops through our letterbox each week, how many of us truly appreciate the institution that is the Chronicle?
From quill to pen to computer, journalists have been contributing to this newspaper ever since the days of stage coaches that would take 16 hours to transport passengers from the county town to London. These days, that might sound like a long time to reach the capital, but this was, in fact, an impressive record-breaking run, well-recorded in the local newspaper. The legendary ‘Wonder Coach’ - which would set off from the Lion Hotel - would, during the length of its journey, use a total of 150 horses. It’s easy to romanticise about such journeys, but there were dangers, and, in the early days of coaching, passengers would live in dread of the highwaymen who might attack en route and would cut your throat for a shilling.
Ah, but those were the days!
My own time with the Shrewsbury Chronicle doesn’t go back quite that far.
I joined the paper in 1977, the year of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee. That year I attended enough street parties to last me a lifetime, and, to this day, I get a little twitched every time I see bunting.
When I wasn’t drowning in a sea of balloons, fairy cakes, and Union Jacks, I was writing up obituaries while my fellow trainee journalist was writing up weddings.
Yes there were features to write too (my favourite) plus stories from magistrates court, the borough council and parish councils, but my over-riding memories of those days seem to revolve around putting the kettle on to make tea for my colleagues, and having to pop next door to the newsagents to pick up the editor’s cigars and his latest edition of the Press Gazette.
We were based in Chronicle House opposite the railway station, and the editor was the gentleman that was Derrick Bourne, a lovely man who nurtured his cub reporters with encouragement and words of wisdom. Patrick Smith and the fearless columnist Ron Nicholas were other big personalities at the paper back then, along with the colourful ("who’s pinched my pencil again!") sports editor Stan Hall and the ever-charming copy-typist Mrs Rogers.
Since then I have worked on many other newspapers from the Sunday Independent in Devon to the Hull Daily Mail in Yorkshire, as well as the Express & Star and the Shropshire Star, but I still have a special fondness for those early days. It might have been a bit like the knock-about Norman Wisdom comedy, Press For Time, but it was a lot of fun.
I have known and loved the Shrewsbury Chronicle all my life, and I’m proud to have been professionally associated with it for almost 40 years. But, yeah, I’m still guilty of taking it for granted from time to time!
Phil Gillam’s gentle novel of family life, Shrewsbury Station Just After Six, is available from Pengwern Books, Fish Street, Shrewsbury, and Shrewsbury Museum and Art Gallery.
Dear Phil,Derrick Bourne was my uncle,the husband of my father's sister Doreen and I was touched to read your kind words about him. He is remembered with great fondness.
ReplyDeleteBest wishes, Jason Key