David Randall was a universal reporter – John Foot

David Randall was “old school”. A reporter from another era, who still remembered ink, press and lead type. He had worked for British local and national newspapers. It had started with the Croydon Advertiser, south of London, then moved on to major newspapers and Sundays such as The Observer and The Independent on Sunday. David was a very funny man and it is said that before becoming a journalist he worked briefly as a stand-up comedian. He believed in the classic values ​​of journalism: investigating, talking to people, knowing one’s subject and geography well.

These values ​​are clear from his best known and most used book, The universal journalist, published in Italian by Laterza in 2004 with the title The almost perfect reporter, which has become a kind of bible for aspiring journalists and has been translated into many other languages. When his colleagues on the night shift at The Independent on Sunday checked the latest news to see if they were important enough to change the front page, David always gave him the same indication: “Only if the queen is dead.”

David has been several times at the Internazionale festival in Ferrara, where he participated in debates and held workshops. He loved everything about the festival and was looking forward to attending every year. I met him there, and we shared wonderful lunches, dinners and drinks. He was a great storyteller and always had some gossip or some newspaper story from the past.

He was also a superb speaker, and used humor to his advantage. In Ferrara at the end of a debate on Brexit (I was against, he was in favor) he won, even if at the beginning he had the public against. In the end he had even convinced me a little. The students in the audience hung from his lips. He was also a natural teacher and a master at telling anecdotes. When the Independent stopped publishing the print edition, he (somewhat surprisingly) willingly accepted retirement, to pursue his favorite pastime – golf – and his beloved family (he had four children). He set about writing a funny and poetic book dedicated in part to his childhood and titled Suburbia. He wrote in a crisp, clear, funny style, just like him. David was also modest and shy, never bragging about anything.

He was very familiar with the history of journalism and dedicated another book to Great reporters (published in Italian by Laterza with the title Thirteen almost perfect reporters). The deep knowledge of journalism was linked to his personal experience but also to an extensive research activity. He particularly loved sports journalism, which had initially been one of his passions, and included some of the greatest football journalists of the British tradition he had ever met, such as Hugh McIlvanney of the Sunday Times, who called “The best writer who ever put his words on newsprint”.

A great supporter of local newspapers, David Randall was convinced of the profound importance of local news for democracy. As he wrote in Almost perfect journalist: “There are the tens of thousands of other journalists, often local, whose task is nothing more fascinating or heroic than to discover the most comprehensive version of what has happened in their area and tell it. They do not expect wealth and glory, and there is no reason why they should have it. But they are nonetheless a social and professional antidote to those who have sold their credibility for a higher salary or an easier life ”.

Ethics were important to David. He appreciated honesty, hard work, what he called the “sense of the news” (which can only be learned by making mistakes) and accuracy. For him, a good journalist must be skeptical, but also follow sources (even when they lead nowhere). He considered it important to become aware of the fact that journalists have never been omnipotent and that they always work within the confines of ownership and editorial lines. His books, however, aren’t just for journalists. They are for everyone. He himself was a kind of almost perfect journalist, with a vast knowledge in many fields, a knowledge that he never imposed on anyone and that he always carried lightly.

(Translation by Bruna Tortorella)