One of the most colourful journalists I ever worked with was Trevor Kennard Reynolds, of the Daily Mirror, who happened to live close by in Stockport. He always rode around with a “Doctor on Call” sign in his car window and a stethoscope on the back shelf, so he could park as close as possible to a house where rival journos had gathered. His number plate was ACE 1.
Sometimes to gain access for an interview he’d hobble to the front door on crutches, which he always kept in his boot. He would also don a green, gilt-buttoned suit, with a pair of wings pinned on the breast, resembling, at first glance, an Aer Lingus pilot’s uniform. When off duty he'd walk around our village in a burgundy velvet tracksuit with the gold monogram TKR on his left breast.
The old saying “facts are sacred, opinion free” was slightly lost on Trevor. Once when doing a story about actor Paul Newman helping a motor racing garage in the North of England he filed copious quotes from the Hollywood star. When his boss asked for a phone number for Newman in case there were any queries later on, a red-faced Trevor blurted: “Well, it’s what he would have said.”
Once we got a one-line news flash about a train crash. Trevor immediately put copy paper into his type-writer and wrote: “There were tears in the eyes of emergency services staff as they found a young girl’s mangled doll on the trackside.”
He once came away from the door of a widow, who had turned away 15 reporters with a no comment, saying: “I couldn’t shut her up.”
He would go to the local pub used by the Press pack and ask the barman to call out: “Is wing commander Reynolds in?” A mutual friend, Phil Braund, came into the office one day to see Trevor writing a story but with Phil’s name on it. Trevor said it was “to give it credence”.
Trevor, who died in 2007 aged 71, even wrote his own obituary in 1997 and left it with a close relative.
Actually, he’d first ask colleague Maurice Chesworth to pen it. Chessie said: “He asked me to write his obit and spent an hour telling of his escapades on the Daily Express, many of which I had witnessed. The next night we were on lates together and I presented him with the obit. He said it was too far fetched and he’d write his own.”
The envelope was sealed and when it was opened after Trevor’s death, his self eulogy ended with: “Let’s hope it’s another 20 years-plus before you have to use this. Best wishes and give it a good show. Pictures to follow…”
