Gentleman Jonesy

(Observing the obligatory obituary tradition that the second someone dies, they were "a gentleman")

THE great newsdesk in the sky has claimed another one.
While Jim Waley has remorselessly staved-off death for another year despite no-longer being cryogenically perma-frosted to his Channel anchor chair, elsewhere in journalism a company of fine young men and women has lost a good man.
Dozens of us abandoned our posts today, from across metropolitan Perth, to pay our respects to Alun Jones.
He was our training and editorial manager, a long-time chief-sub, a colleague, a friend, a mentor, a grammar Nazi, a complete pain in the f**king arse, a chain-smoker, an enthusiastic newsman, and a gentleman.
Today, with the aid of a Led Zeppelin fan in an orange curtain, we buried him.
Our Editor-In-Chief delivered a heartfelt eulogy (despite the obvious disadvantage of being South African), touching on many of the reasons why we were able to hold Jonesy close to our hearts at the same time as wanting to pummel him over with the brick he kept on his desk with “The last resort” written on it.
He touched on the way Jonesy will never leave us because the bastard has infiltrated our computer system. Every time we write “impact”, we’ll have “(effect?)” jump up on our screens uninvited. Every time we write “due to” the computer will change it to “because of” (which is great in a sentence like “Mrs Johnson was due to have a baby in December”).
Every time we write “conducted” the computer will angrily ask “(with a baton?)” and each time we condescend to use the phrase “will see” the magical footnote “(with eyes?)” will pop up.
I cannot begin to express how fucking annoying that is.
Or how annoying it is to not be able to use “according to” or “following” in an opening sentence. Or how frustrating it is to HAVE to give BOTH points-of-view within three opening paragraphs, even at the price of explanation, in the interests of balance.
But the fact is, Alun Jones IS the style guide inside each journalist he has touched, trained and worked beside.
I owe him a particular honour.
I admit I liked the man from day one, even though it was popular to bag him out. In my first week he helped me secure a page three lead about a computer spammer operating in our area. I had been out of the industry for a few years and we bonded as he patiently re-explained why I couldn’t say some of the things I had wanted to say [including using words like “c**t” (vagina?), “w**ker” (owner-user?), and “a**ehole” (exit here?) as adjectives].
Two weeks later when my permanency was announced he was the first to congratulate me. He shot me through an email that said “I think that’s about the fastest move from casual to permanent I can ever recall”. He’d been with the company for ten years. It was a compliment indeed.
Over the next year I would often roll into his office for a chat, for advice, or even to watch him roll a ciggie whilst replying to three emails, two phone calls AND answering my inane query.
He would always tell me “there are no dumb questions” - his invariable reply to my oft repeated pronouncement at his threshold, “Al, can I ask a dumb question”. He would always diligently and patiently give a full explanation, even if I’d long since forgotten the question, lost interest in the answer, felt inclined to disagree, or had fallen asleep.
There aren’t enough men like that around in our industry. I cherish the one or two who are.
Alun Jones helped make me a better journalist. And that’s more than some who should be able to say that are able to claim.
Jonesy and I also had a great personal understanding. After his death, a note about his judgment of my character was passed to me by someone who visited him regularly in his final months. It wasn’t work-related. It was his assessment of me as a person.
I had no idea he had paid so much attention.
And now I wonder if I paid him enough attention. Personally, that is.
The world is a little sadder (and media law a little trickier to navigate) without Alun Jones. But as the monk told us today (between rock music parables) we have to be glad of the time we had.
If I was James Blunt I’d be writing a song right now.
If I was Jim Waley I’d be clawing Ellen Fanning’s eyes out.