The Globe, February 26 2009
I’ve been asked to say a few words about Jimmy Burns, my old friend and
compadre, and fellow graduate of the Alain Cass School of Journalism.
Alain could not be here tonight because he and Victoria are traveling in
Thailand, but he was an inspirational news editor back in the late 1980s
and early 1990s, fearless and passionate and I know his best wishes are
with you.
Now Jimmy has enjoyed a distinguished career over 30 years at the Financial
Times as a war correspondent, foreign correspondent, labour correspondent,
Inhouse spook, sorry spook watcher, and many, many other undercover roles. And, after more than
20 years of working with him, on the phone, across continents, I can safely
say he’s one of the most complicated characters I have ever come across.
Maybe it all comes down to Jimmy’s Anglo-Spanish heritage, maybe – and I
speak guardedly here – his Catholic faith. But the contradictions are
abundant and, dare I say, unresolved: the stiff English upper lip and the
smouldering moral outrage; the anti-establishment radical and the cut-glass
pukka accent; the hard-nosed investigative reporter and the inveterate
romantic, with a faint whiff of Walter Mitty.
Make that a caseload
In short, as Don Roberto Graham, Jimmy’s old Latam mentor, might have said:
“Jimmy is a diptych of Loyola and Caravaggio.”
All of Jimmy’s qualities have been on display at the FT these past 30
years, though one often heard the refrain. “Where is Jimmy?”, in
the newsroom. Usually when said reporter was either indisposed, on a book
tour, or, on one occasion, drifting down the Nile in the company of an
Argentine bellydancer. This was, I am assured, an essential fact-gathering
exercise in preparation for the FT’s Egypt survey.
Jimmy is and always will be a front-line reporter, a loyal foot-soldier
ready to go over the top at the news editor’s first bark. “Mate”, he would often
say to me, “just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
And over the top he went: on Robert Maxwell, Matrix Churchill, BCCI,
Northern Ireland, Nigerian financial scams, and the 7/7 terrorist attacks,
winning prizes and accolades – and beating Repetitive Stress Injury – on
the way. He was a team player, not a byline bandit, loyal to colleagues
and dedicated to the cause of uncovering uncomfortable truths.
Jimmy also spent time in the lobby at Westminster. Once again, he proved
himself a generous colleague, willing to work the late shifts and the
Sundays, always ready to lend a word of encouragement to less experienced
reporters.
His record as a political pundit was, er, mixed. His most famous judgment
came in 1995 when Michael Portillo stood against John Major for the
leadership of the Conservative party. “Portillo has no chance of winning,”
Jimmy pronounced correctly, minutes after the Portillo campaign begin. But
how could he be so sure, a colleague ventured. “Well,” said Jimmy, “the man
has no standing in the Anglo-Spanish community.”
(That slight solepicism – the sense that the world revolves around you rather than
opposite – reminds me of the old South American saying. “Why do
Argentinians run out in the streets when there’s thunder and lightning.”
Answer, because they think God is taking their picture.)
Jimmy’s other great skill has been in managing his time so he could pursue
other more convivial activities, including book-writing and extracurricular
entertainment at his mansion in Mazagon, Andalucia, where dozens of
colleagues have enjoyed the hospitality of Snr Burns over the years.
Now some may wonder how he pulled it off. How could he write a convoluted
news intro one day and a best-seller the next? How could he be a
self-taught expert on Barcelona football club and Maradonna and best buddy
with Sir Ian Blair of the Met?
The answer, Ladies and Gentleman is that Jimmy has been blessed, blessed by
the Hand of God. He’s had someone watching over him, sometimes that
someone has been an impatient news editor waiting for the copy to crawl out
of the typewriter or the computer terminal; but other times may I suggest,
that someone has been a Higher Being.
For that reason, I am confident we will hear a lot more from James A J
Burns. But for the moment, all I can say is that we will miss his presence dearly
