T P McLean remembered

By D.J. CAMERON

T P McLean's typewriter will thunder no more. The man who transformed sports reporting and sports writing - separate if brotherly arts - for the second half of the 20th century died in Auckland on Saturday night.

He would have appreciated the timing - just after the All Blacks had played and won a game he cherished, and before New Zealand thrashed West Indies in a one-day international at Lords, even if cricket was a sporting mystery McLean never quite unravelled.

Yesterday, and later this week, perhaps 50, perhaps more, sportswriters will have McLean in their thoughts, for they are all swimming, with differing style and speed, in the floodwaters McLean unleashed after he joined the New Zealand Herald as sports editor in 1946.

McLean began in journalism in the early 1930s, when a reporter was usually over-worked, under-paid and not encouraged to depart from the use of basic English.

The young McLean was lucky, He gained a certain rugby stature from being the brother of a notable All Black, Hugh.

He had a master-class in newspaper work from another gifted brother, Gordon, and the guidance of sister Dorothy's knowledge of the English language, its grammar and graces.

Then came the war. McLean battled through Italy with the 22nd Infantry Battalion and gained the armour-plated shell to his personality which enabled him to survive the criticism that his sports-writing comments and opinions often attracted.

He drew instant respect bordering on devotion from the youngsters on his sports staff. He demanded accuracy and punctuality; he detested laziness and inefficiency.

In return, McLean offered the prospect that, next to music, the English language more readily offered beauty and resonance and artistry.

And once he was satisfied that the youngsters were heading in the right direction he would toss them all into the pool to see if they could swim in the rewarding and sometimes glamorous world of sports writing.

The man's capacity for work was amazing, his speed astonishing.

In those days, when the extra income from free-lance writing gave the family butter on the bread and blankets on the bed, McLean, especially on an internal rugby tour, would take up duties for three or four overseas papers.

By the time McLean tired of the paperwork and other drab duties of the sports editor, he had been largely responsible for the high quality of work from the late Mike Robson, who went on to the managership of Independent Newspapers Limited, from Norman Harris, with special gifts for cycling and athletics writing and still a survivor in London, from Alan Graham, who went on to high posts in New Zealand Press Association, and occasionally from this writer.

McLeans move from the sports editor's desk allowed him the freedom to spread his wit and wisdom among many sports beyond his main work with rugby, golf and tennis.

Polo joined the favoured list, and McLean even tried his hand at yachting. He took a peculiar joy from being invited to meet the teams and perform the kick-off at a big rugby league match at Carlaw Park.

Perhaps only cricket defeated him. In the mid-60s, McLean eagerly accepted an invitation from The Times, of London, to cover an MCC tour of New Zealand.

There was enough of the snob in McLean to get special pleasure from working (free-lance) for what was regarded as the newspaper of the English-speaking world.

There was even a hint that he might replace the present cricket writer - cricket could profit from his lyrical writing.

It was a typical England tour., What passed for summer was cold and wet and windy, and the England players regarded a tour of New Zealand as an unnecessary imposition after a tour of Australia.

As the regular local cricket writers stoically endured each agonising struggle by New Zealand for a draw (which we could automatically regard as half a win, and a lot better than a loss) McLeans face grew longer, his gasps of agony more and more dismal.

"Cameron, old son. It is all yours. I have had enough. How can you stand this?"

"Heavens, McLean," I said. "This is one of our better tours."

After Dick Motz had clubbed a tail-end 60 or so at Eden Park, McLean seriously suggested Motz should be promoted to open the innings.

From then on, McLean and cricket became very distant acquaintances.

McLean drew a mixture of admiration and angst from the New Zealand Rugby Union, and its constituent unions who sometimes felt the sting of his critical whip.

At one time, the Auckland Rugby Union felt that McLean had offended by first publishing in the New Zealand Herald an article casting serious doubt on the worth of Maori rugby and intended for the later official programme of a New Zealand Maori game.

The ARU banned McLean from Eden Park. The New Zealand Herald and the Auckland Star withdrew all coverage of rugby.

While McLean toured with the British Lions in the South Island, a rugby equivalent of the Battle of the OK Corral threatened to shatter the peace in Auckland.

Fortunately, wiser heads, as the cliche goes, prevailed. The McLean ban was lifted and peace, however fragile, was restored.

McLean told me he was shattered that he should be at the centre of such a squabble, and that people's work and livelihood had been threatened by what he regarded as an innocent action. Beneath that battle hardened exterior there was still a soft and considerate centre in the elderly McLean frame.

These gracious attitudes were not, however, offered by McLean the Motorist, who regarded every traffic officer and every traffic light as a personal insult determined only to slow his vigorous progress round Auckland's roads.


McLean had his doubts about the electronic age and the seductive internet, although he was envious of the ease with which copy could be whisked round the world in an instant.

But he maintained that one of the old arts of journalism - the acquiring of special knowledge, background detail, the use of personal contacts - had been forever changed.

You used to get the good stories if you had a personal contact, a sure knowledge of the subject and its background, and friendly access to your sources.

They gave you an unbeatable start. Now someone can push a few keys on a computer and all that information, which used to take us days and months and years to obtain, could pour out of a printer in a matter of minutes.

Difficult machinery also raised the McLean pulse-rate. The old Morris Oxford staff cars at the Herald had a steering column gear-shift which sometimes refused to follow the required track.

McLean, extremely powerful in his left arm, fought this mechanical monster until the gear-shift was wrapped round the steering column and the car was stuck forever in first gear.

McLean was also human enough to enjoy the tributes which were granted in the last quarter of his life which would have reached 91 years this week.

He took great pleasure from his knighthood, which he felt was the only one ever offered for services to journalism. Neville Cardus' knighthood was for services to journalism, and music.

After the award, his Ladies Mile home, scene of some wondrous parties over the years, staged another.

McLean (by now suffering severely from bad knees) had a large comfortable seat as a throne, and the various medals and ribbons displayed on the left arm of the chair.

The guests greeted him one by one, were given a drink, admired the gong and moved on.

"Ah, there you are, George," said Sir Terry to one of the guests. "Is this your second or third trip to see me and get another drink."

Sir Terry was also vastly pleased that Sport and Recreation New Zealand two years ago arranged that the dozen or so annual awards made by the New Zealand Sporting Journalists Association each year should be known as "TPs".

"Ah," said McLean, the old gravelly voice still forceful and free, "they never had these awards when I was a sports writer."

But McLean already had his awards - the respect and thanks from so many sportswriters who were lucky enough to follow his lead, to benefit from the way he had transformed the words, and ambitions, of sports writers.

To show the way to even the dullest of us that sports-writing can sometimes find words that sing and soar, and well-founded opinions that make people think.

* D.J. Cameron is a fomer Herald writer and colleague of T.P. MacLean