The End Of The Street – Linda Melvern

When I recently reviewed Treacherous Estate by Michael Leapman, his take on the state of the British national newspapers in the second half of the 20th century, I noted that an unwelcome hidden irony more or less rendered his account pointless for 2026 readers.

That irony is that after a period from the end of World War II until, in the mid-1980s, Rupert Murdochs’s battle with the print unions over his new plant in East London, the ranks of the Fleet Street nationals were being increasingly being pruned by circumstance and economics. But when Leapman published in 1992 they seemed still to be holding their own.

With Wapping and the tiresome unions finally being sent off with a flea in their ear, the ‘press barons’ believed that Rupert Murdoch decisive victory would usher a renewed era of making oodles of moolah as once they had and they would not longer be required to piss some of it up the wall to ensure their papers hit the streets.

As it turned out, it soon all went down the toilet after all, courtesy of the ‘world wide web’, the ‘information superhighway’, the ‘internet’ or whatever you care to call it. ‘New technology’ as in ‘direct input’ by editorial staff 

and photo-composition which was seeing of traditional ‘hot metal’ was itself being replaced by even newer technology.

Newspaper circulation, in Britain at least, though I’m sure the story was being repeated overseas, began going down the tubes fast.

In 1992, though, the internet had still not taken shape and ‘Fleet Street’ had no inkling how its once soaring print sales would be – for once to use the word legitimately in its literal sense – decimated.

In The End Of The Street, former Sunday Times Insight hack – and unlike many, I use the word as a mark of respect not contempt as in my world hacks are versatile professionals gifted enough to turn their hand to anything – Linda Melvern charts Murdoch’s ‘Wapping’ campaign and how, pretty much at a stroke, an overwhelming number of print production staff became redundant as from then on journalists, notably a paper’s sub-editors, would format copy and pages themselves. 

There was no need any longer for the legions of Linotype operators who had set reporters’ copy once sub-edited into lead slugs, the compositors then assembling those slugs in a page according to a layout, producing a papier maché ‘flong’ from which served as a mould to produce a semi-circular metal ‘flange’.

There was no longer need for ‘the readers’ who read an imprint of each ‘chase’ and compared it to the original ‘copy’ supplied by the sub-editors to spot possible errors.

All those jobs were gone for ever, overnight: ‘direct input’ allowed sub-editors at a computer screen to do all that digitally – formatting the story, headline and captions and laying out each page – with photo-composition used to make the semi-circular flanges which were then fitted to the press rollers to print the papers.

The only print jobs that survived the decimation were the few needed to operate the presses. In Wapping, from the start of the whole dispute, this was done by electricians and not as hitherto in Murdoch’s Bouverie Street and Grays Inn Road print-works by members of the unions, the NGA (National Graphical Association), Sogat (Society of Graphical and Allied Trades) and, until at a second attempt, it merged with Sogat, NATSOPA (National Society of Operative Printers and Assistants).

Those unions were done for and, far more to the point, Murdoch and all the other newspaper proprietors who all followed his lead and adopted direct input saved themselves millions in wages.

Typically, the editorial staff who took on more responsibilities in the direct input system saw very little to almost none of the money the bosses were saving, despite huffing and puffing and grand talk of principles, precedents and such from their own union the NUJ. National newspaper journalists were perhaps paid a little more, but hacks in ‘the provinces’ were rewarded with the thin end of fuck-all. Plus ça change . . .

The NUJ (National Union of Journalists) was – it is still limping on – in the opinion of this writer who was a member for many years, less useful than a chocolate teapot, far more accustomed to experiencing and celebrating the grand British tradition of honourable defeat: ‘We bloody showed ‘em!’ We can’t be pushed around! Next time!’ Yeah, right.

NB In 1979, I was still working as a reporter, for The Journal in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, when the NUJ called out all ‘provincial’ journalists on strike over a pay demand.

We were out for seven weeks (when, of course, we were not paid) and when a ‘deal was finally struck’, I did sums on the back of an envelope and discovered that even with the pay rise, I would be rather badly out of pocket for that year.

OK, you might argue, but at you would be getting more next year, and you would have been ‘better off’. You think? In 1979 inflation was running at 13.4% and the following year it was up to £18%. Nice one, brothers and sisters.

Another irony – make that ‘piece of stupidity’ – was when the strike as called several provincial papers had struck pay-rise deal with staff and did not want to go out on strike. They were told by NUJ head office to do as they were told.

In the event, the NUJ deal struck gave them less than they had already agree locally. Oh, and wise old NUJ did itself no favours after the strike as over by expelling 33 hacks on the Bournemouth Echo who had refused to down pens.

Sorry, but unless I have a good reason to lie, I prefer to call it as it is. It’s not a moral or ethical thing, just pragmatism, though I use the word in its everyday sense, not its philosophical sense. Herding cats into tidy ranks is easier than organising hacks.

Melvern published her account of the ‘Wapping dispute’ that began in January 25, 1986, and lasted must over a year until February 5, 1987, on October 1, 1986, and hers is an astonishing achievement.

It was published just eight months after the Wapping strike began and in those eight months she interviewed 57 – she lists them at the end of her book and I counted – management and union bods involved. Then she wrote it.

Though, albeit unavoidably, top-heavy on job titles and acronyms, Melvern manages to give a detailed, comprehensive, informative and, above allm interesting account of how it all came together.

Sadly, I doubt many will be reading it now, in 2026, as it is history. Those who do will, perhaps, be more drawn either to the ‘plucky/greedy unions [deleted as applicable]’ or the ‘progressive/bastard proprietors [ditto]. I belong in neither camp, and please bear that in mind when I suggest that broadly the print unions involved only had themselves to blame.

Within just four years of the Wapping dispute ending in defeat, the NGA and Sogat no longer existed as, licking their wounds, they had merged to form the GPMU (Graphical, Paper and Media Union). That union itself only lasted eight years before it’s loss of members persuaded it merge with the union AMICUS which later went on to merge with the TGWU (Transport and General Workers Union) three years alter to form Unite The Union.

The list of unions above might seem like a word salad to you, dear reader, and you would be right, but – going back to Melvern’s book, she is a talented journalist and does manage to keep it all under control (though it helps to have a natural interest in the subject matter. Although concise, well-written and always to the point, her book is not an easy read. If you want that, head for one of Katie Price’s many autobiographies.

In sum, Rupert Murdoch, a man who knew his mind if anyone ever did, had changed all that and although I don’t share his politics, I can’t and don’t deny a sneaking respect and admiration for the man.

He knew what he wanted – efficiency and no bullshit – and by 1985 and 1986 he had had his fill of the behaviour or the London unions (and I must again stress the London unions). And if I read Melvern’s account correctly he was, initially, prepared to reach a sensible agreement with the unions, though this certainly involved job losses. Finally, he lost patience.

He had even offered them the Grays Inn Road plant at a very cheap price so that they could launch their own left-wing newspaper. He didn’t need it once he moved to Wapping and he believed it might well work as a sweetener.

But – and this is my take – the unions, or at least most of their leaders – though an exception should be made of Brenda Dean of Sogat, the only female union leader who seems to have had a more realistic take – badly overestimated their hand and had simply not caught on that the world had changed.

Finally, it all culminated in Murdoch and his News International papers successfully moving to Wapping and a year-long siege of the plant by union members, which was at times violent. The plant was heavily fortified and there were strict security checks.

If you are interested in the history of Wapping and Murdoch’s battle with the unions – that is if you are even aware it occurred as, after all, this was all 40 years ago, I can highly recommend Melvern’s book. But I suspect it would only interest those who are interested (if that doesn’t sound too Irish).

The list of unions and the litany of executive job titles in Melvern's book might seem like a word salad to you, dear reader, but Melvern is a talented journalist, writes clearly and does manage to keep it all under control.

Although concise, well-written and always to the point, her book is not an easy read. If you want that, head for one of Katie Price’s many autobiographies.