Ronald Batchelor
Clare McDermott
Thursday 07 July 2011
Clare McDermott was not only a fine administrator in his many years as sports editor but he covered most sports whenever he got the chance. It was a long time ago but one of his most memorable efforts was at ringside in Lewiston, Maine, on May 25, 1965 for the rematch between Muhammad Ali and Sonny Liston.
It ended in a first-round knockout after a short, sharp right hand punch from Ali suddenly dropped Liston to the canvas. Few of those at ringside saw the punch and most of the journalists doubted it was enough to floor the hulking Liston, who stayed down for more than 10 seconds, then rolled on his back after a feeble attempt to get to his feet. Ali was pictured standing over Liston daring him to rise, one of the great sports photos of all time.
Clare was a latecomer to our boxing fraternity in New York in the first half of the 1960s. Ronnie Batchelor covered the early Floyd Patterson championship fights with his inimitable colourful phrasing but was then posted elsewhere and I got the job as ringside reporter in 1963, covering the youthful Cassius Clay's early fights, then Liston's two minute demolition of Patterson in Las Vegas in July 1963 and later Clay's comprehensive surprise defeat of Liston in Miami in February 1964. The first of those was an easy job, shouting the result and then dictating the story down the phone to a deskman in our New York headquarters.
The Miami fight was much tougher to cover, with the Reuters phone outlet four rows back from ringside, so the US agencies and BBC TV were much closer to the unfolding drama. Liston wouldn’t come out for the seventh round claiming a shoulder injury and was later taken to hospital without explaining himself to the world press who I think numbered only 50 (of which 49 including me had tipped Liston to win).
I moved to London before the Maine rematch, which produced such raw and chaotic drama in less than one round. Even to this day the boxing experts at The Ring magazine have doubts about Liston’s character and his links to the Mafia. There's still speculation whether he threw both the Miami and Lewiston fights. ESPN has the films of the fights in that era, which it shows occasionally on cable TV. Worth watching if you get the chance. Otherwise read David Remnicks’ great book King of the World (Random House).
Before I retired from Reuters in 1995, I asked the company library to dig out our coverage of those old fights. They only came up with Clare's wrap on the Lewiston affair. I sent it on to him. My own effort on the Miami battle hasn't survived apparently, probably just as well.
Allan Barker
vbnbnbn
It ended in a first-round knockout after a short, sharp right hand punch from Ali suddenly dropped Liston to the canvas. Few of those at ringside saw the punch and most of the journalists doubted it was enough to floor the hulking Liston, who stayed down for more than 10 seconds, then rolled on his back after a feeble attempt to get to his feet. Ali was pictured standing over Liston daring him to rise, one of the great sports photos of all time.
Clare was a latecomer to our boxing fraternity in New York in the first half of the 1960s. Ronnie Batchelor covered the early Floyd Patterson championship fights with his inimitable colourful phrasing but was then posted elsewhere and I got the job as ringside reporter in 1963, covering the youthful Cassius Clay's early fights, then Liston's two minute demolition of Patterson in Las Vegas in July 1963 and later Clay's comprehensive surprise defeat of Liston in Miami in February 1964. The first of those was an easy job, shouting the result and then dictating the story down the phone to a deskman in our New York headquarters.
The Miami fight was much tougher to cover, with the Reuters phone outlet four rows back from ringside, so the US agencies and BBC TV were much closer to the unfolding drama. Liston wouldn’t come out for the seventh round claiming a shoulder injury and was later taken to hospital without explaining himself to the world press who I think numbered only 50 (of which 49 including me had tipped Liston to win).
I moved to London before the Maine rematch, which produced such raw and chaotic drama in less than one round. Even to this day the boxing experts at The Ring magazine have doubts about Liston’s character and his links to the Mafia. There's still speculation whether he threw both the Miami and Lewiston fights. ESPN has the films of the fights in that era, which it shows occasionally on cable TV. Worth watching if you get the chance. Otherwise read David Remnicks’ great book King of the World (Random House).
Before I retired from Reuters in 1995, I asked the company library to dig out our coverage of those old fights. They only came up with Clare's wrap on the Lewiston affair. I sent it on to him. My own effort on the Miami battle hasn't survived apparently, probably just as well.
Allan Barker
vbnbnbn
Patrick Massey
Tuesday 17 March 2009
There are some people in your life who once you meet, and are aware of them – like a favoured beloved byline – you always turn to.
That was Patrick J Massey.
In my early early years – months – with Reuters, when I was struggling to work out what the hell was Reuters “style”, Pat was a beacon.
How could you write a lead para that was accurate, interpretative, colourful, sourced, knowledgeable, passionate, stylish and less than 30 words?
Just read Patrick J.
Maybe it is an apocryphal yarn but the greatest lead I have EVER EVER read – not just on Reuters – I credit to Pat for his story on the inaugural flight of Concorde.
“I flew through the sound barrier today and not a ripple crossed my Martini.”
I’m sure they are not the exact words Pat wrote, but my God the mood that the para evoked – the key to any great Reuters writing – has always stuck with me.
It didn’t have to be short like a Pat or Arthur Spiegelman or Jimmy Pringle or Ron Thomson.
It could be long like a Ronnie Batchelor or Nobby Clarke or Ronnie Farquhar who could write a four line intro and it seemed like a two line intro.
It was the words, the positioning, the mood, the control of their craft.
They were all just natural story tellers, whether in words on paper or in conversation, which in a funny way I think is how they wrote, short or long.
And, of course, they all had the humour and insights of kind and loving rascals – how else could they write so magically?
For just a year I worked directly with Pat on London Bureau and fortunately The Sarge, who has known a rascal or two in his time, was the Bureau Chief.
“Where is Mr Massey?” he would inquire.
In true young honest gullible innocence I would reply: “He’s around Allan ‘cos his glasses (always identifiable black rimmed) are on his desk.”
“So he’s at the Golf Club then,” Sarge would answer.
Years – decades – later when Pat had retired, had a pacemaker installed and came through Tokyo to see his son where I was then based I asked:
“So, Pat, what’s it like having a pacemaker?”
“Ah, it’s not a big deal,” he said.
“I just have to watch out when I walk past a refrigerator in case there’s electro-magnetism and I slam into it. It’s generally the fridge that’s out of cycle.”
I always have and always will read a Patrick Massey byline, in cycle or out of cycle.
Brian Williams
That was Patrick J Massey.
In my early early years – months – with Reuters, when I was struggling to work out what the hell was Reuters “style”, Pat was a beacon.
How could you write a lead para that was accurate, interpretative, colourful, sourced, knowledgeable, passionate, stylish and less than 30 words?
Just read Patrick J.
Maybe it is an apocryphal yarn but the greatest lead I have EVER EVER read – not just on Reuters – I credit to Pat for his story on the inaugural flight of Concorde.
“I flew through the sound barrier today and not a ripple crossed my Martini.”
I’m sure they are not the exact words Pat wrote, but my God the mood that the para evoked – the key to any great Reuters writing – has always stuck with me.
It didn’t have to be short like a Pat or Arthur Spiegelman or Jimmy Pringle or Ron Thomson.
It could be long like a Ronnie Batchelor or Nobby Clarke or Ronnie Farquhar who could write a four line intro and it seemed like a two line intro.
It was the words, the positioning, the mood, the control of their craft.
They were all just natural story tellers, whether in words on paper or in conversation, which in a funny way I think is how they wrote, short or long.
And, of course, they all had the humour and insights of kind and loving rascals – how else could they write so magically?
For just a year I worked directly with Pat on London Bureau and fortunately The Sarge, who has known a rascal or two in his time, was the Bureau Chief.
“Where is Mr Massey?” he would inquire.
In true young honest gullible innocence I would reply: “He’s around Allan ‘cos his glasses (always identifiable black rimmed) are on his desk.”
“So he’s at the Golf Club then,” Sarge would answer.
Years – decades – later when Pat had retired, had a pacemaker installed and came through Tokyo to see his son where I was then based I asked:
“So, Pat, what’s it like having a pacemaker?”
“Ah, it’s not a big deal,” he said.
“I just have to watch out when I walk past a refrigerator in case there’s electro-magnetism and I slam into it. It’s generally the fridge that’s out of cycle.”
I always have and always will read a Patrick Massey byline, in cycle or out of cycle.
Brian Williams
