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202 | denis beckett<br />
onward. again I was glad that my career freed me of eternal<br />
protraction and causes I did not believe.<br />
I’d had a hard time taking the Buthelezi case seriously. This<br />
one was theatre of the absurd. Which doesn’t mean I laughed<br />
off the prospect of another absurd outcome; goodbye piano,<br />
goodbye house. Nor was it fun watching Johnson implode.<br />
By several lengths the least popular figure in Sa newspapers,<br />
he was also the hardest-working, selecting the Citizen’s material,<br />
editing it, headlining it, rewriting it. He wrote virtually all the<br />
leaders, too, the “editor’s opinions” that many editors never<br />
write and some never read. and his leaders are leaders. He<br />
wants you to think in a certain way. He tells you what way, and<br />
he tells you so unmistakably. His leaders may not be works of<br />
art, but you never come away thinking “um, what was that<br />
about?” Of not a lot of editors can that be said, [conceivably<br />
even including your current correspondent.]<br />
Moreover you never saw Johnny on the cocktail circuit<br />
[which can be said of even fewer]. Doing ten men’s work left<br />
him not much party-time, but, also, he can’t relate to his peers.<br />
That was partly politics, at least until the 1990 tumbledrier<br />
when the left went right and the right got religion and everyone<br />
apologised for their past or their colour or their existence, but<br />
more than that, he’s sour. He works on it.<br />
One Ken X was once employed in good standing at the<br />
Citizen, but got into big trouble out-of-hours and put in seven<br />
years at Sonderwater Prison. Ken ran the prison library, and<br />
subscribed to Frontline, and we had a correspondence. When<br />
parole drew near, the commandant invited me to visit and I had<br />
a most impressive day, struck by Prisons’ efforts for departing<br />
customers and inspired by their faith in Ken as their most<br />
hopeful alumnus. for parole, they needed someone to give Ken<br />
work. They’d thought – people did – that Frontline was a real<br />
company with jobs. Well, that was an error, but Ken and the Oc<br />
asked if I would intercede with Johnson. This I did, by phone. I<br />
told the tale to his secretary, who was also his wife. She put me<br />
through. I greeted. Johnson said “mmf”. I said half a sentence.
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