The Editor, the man Hartley Neita Before the 1950s, the editorial office of The Daily Gleaner (as it was then known) and its associated publications, was a men's room. And the language across the large room upstairs the former offices on Harbour Street in Kingston included words which could not be printed in its publications or used in public within hearing distance of a police constable. It was into this group of men that Theodore Sealy brought a number of ladies, most of whom had just left secondary schools. The first were Aimee Webster and Gertrude Sherman (The Gleaner's social reporter, "Kitty Kingston"). Then almost together came Sybil Thompson, who combined Hansard writing and court reporting. Then came Amoy Kong Quee, Barbara Goodison, Sybil Campbell, Patsy Pyne, and Rose McFarlane, and later Myrth Swire and Sylvia Lee. The men did not pull out their chairs for them to sit, but the language slowly became less prerogative. And it was Mr. Sealy who introduced these young ladies to the raucous rousing of the Press Club and introduced them to rum and whisky. Gradually they could trade rumbles with any of the men. It was Myrth Swire, for example, who once threatened the Queen's press secretary to kick him into the Sheraton Kingston Hotel's pool because he dared to be rude to Gleaner photographer Astley Chin. Next day she was called into the presence of Mr. Sealy and asked about the incident. And when she told him, his response was: "You should not have threatened to kick him." And there was a pause before he added, "You should have done so." By now, of course, you will have read and heard many tributes to this man. And you will be told of his many awards which when laid on his casket will almost double its weight. These were his public accolades; but many of his colleagues will also add the fatherly advice he gave them from time to time. Like his admonition for journalists to read everything and anything, including cartoon booklets of love stories. And relating the fact that no matter how late he went to bed, he never closed his eyes until he had read a chapter in a book or an article in a magazine. And there was the colleague he once told: "Never trust a man who does not drink!" Strong influence There is no doubt, to me, that he had a strong influence in political behaviour, and that he changed the social and cultural landscape of Jamaica during the 1950s. He used the columns of The Gleaner to expose the arts. Many of our present writers first saw their short stories and poems in print in this newspaper. There is the memory of a small group of us who were then associated with the news media, Corina Meeks and Barbara Goodison among them, being entertained at his cottage in the hills above Gordon Town, St. Andrew one Sunday. We had to park on the edge of a then narrow road and walk down and up a valley to the house. It had no electricity or telephone. It was his retreat from the burden of the responsibilities of being "The Editor". He personally prepared and cooked lunch, and for the rest of the afternoon discussed and entertained and lectured. So as a tribute to his memory and to inform young media practitioners of an era now gone, perhaps the Press Association could consider presenting a panel discussion to assess the Sealy years. And maybe, The Gleaner might think of resuscitating the "Ten Types Beauty Contest" which he initiated during the 1950s, and which made black girls, Chinese girls and Indian girls from all over Jamaica discover they too could be "Queens of Beauty". Today, with young girls and boys bleaching their skins, and as I have heard, mothers squeezing the nostrils of their baby daughters with clothes pins to make them slim, our young women need to see the beauty that's in themselves. And our men, too.
|
