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Come recording time, we couldn’t find either Keeler or Neil easily, but discovered them in another room downing gin and tonics together and having a ball… She was a fascinating guest,


discussing her role in that pivotal bit of early 1960s political history, and even the occasionally acerbic and cynical Anderson seemed overawed by her, as were we all. Neil was unusually dumbstruck. Creswell’s cousin Peter Rawlinson


was in the audience. He had asked to be there as he’d never met Christine, despite having been centrally involved in John Profumo’s political downfall as solicitor general. Altogether, it was a fascinating


evening for all. Keeler was above all else dignified, amusing and deeply hurt by all that had passed years before – but brave and willing to be exposed once more. Good for her. Philippe Bassett Surrey


I never said that: when recall turns out poor I was fascinated to read James Fair’s feature on whether to allow


interviewees to approve quotes (Don’t quote me on that, December/January). I think there are limited occasions when it is reasonable to do so, for example on complex technical issues, or matters of historical accuracy. I encountered a similar, but slightly


different issue recently. I agreed to check quotes with a historian I’d interviewed for a story. She had mentioned beforehand about always being misquoted by journalists, but was also the foremost authority on an obscure subject and I wanted to check my facts were correct. I took notes and, with her


agreement, recorded our conversation. However, when I showed her the quotes I used, she denied flatly (in three cases) having said what was written. Concerned, I checked the recording. The quotes were correct, word for word. But no, she insisted she’d never use those terms and could I change them? I could, of course, and because I had no actual reason to use her original words – the subject wasn’t in any way contentious, simply an


interesting historical piece – it made little difference. She wasn’t some Trumpian politician


attempting to wriggle out of a hole by simply denying what she had clearly uttered. She genuinely believed she hadn’t said what she had. I let it lie. But it raised a question I had never considered. People sometimes, through error, misunderstanding or failure of memory, do not recall what they once said. She wasn’t lying – she was a sincere individual who believed she hadn’t said the words I used. What, in such circumstances, should a journalist do? In this case, it was simple. It made no


difference whether I used her original quotes or her new ones. I could have embarrassed her


by playing the recording, but I felt it unnecessary. That said, doubtless she again felt


misrepresented by a journalist. You have to decide whether you can live with such ignominy. The conclusion I came to was always,


if you don’t already do so, record interviews (rarely is permission not granted) and archive them.


At least, even if you never need them


as evidence, your personal and professional sense of integrity will remain intact. Michael O’Hare Northwood, Middlesex


Is this a record for number of names in one byline? What is the longest byline you have come across? Here is mine. A story of a visit to Newcastle by the Queen and Prince Philip, on July 15, 1977, has 14 names crowded into a single byline. Those were the days before mobile phones, but thankfully, the 14 reporters, including me, didn’t have to cram into the same public phone box to get their copy across in time to beat the deadline for that night’s edition Vince Gledhill Ashington


STEVE BELL


THE OWNERS


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