Malcolm Warne reflects on his time in D&S Times' editor's chair

It was my privilege to be at the helm in 1997, a time of change in many ways. In May of that year a local MP, the member for Sedgefield – a certain Tony Blair – had been elected Prime Minister in the Labour landslide.

The 150th anniversary edition was published on October 3 and it was a dramatically different paper to the one that had appeared the week before.

Shock and horror – there was news on the front page in place of the estate agents’ advertisements – a D&S idiosyncrasy that I felt was fast becoming an anachronism at the end of the 20th century.

That change from what was an ultra-traditional format was so earth-shattering that it was deemed worth a brief mention in the London Times.

The BBC was sufficiently excited by this seismic break with the past that it sent along a young reporter and film crew to see the landmark edition being printed and to interview me. Much to my irritation at the time, that young reporter, Ian Reeve (who many will recognise is still a regular on the regional Look North TV programme) persuaded the former MP for Stockton South, Ian Wrigglesworth, to go on camera to say it was the most regrettable change and the end of civilisation as we knew it.

While that change to the front page worked very well, one aspect failed spectacularly. The masthead or title piece with its distinctively ornate Gothic script had been replaced with a cleaner, more modern title in the Times New Roman font.

It might have been classically smart but, as newsagents quickly told us, readers didn’t immediately recognise the new-look paper as their D&S. It was a mistake and four weeks later we put the old Gothic masthead back and the problem was solved.

It was a valuable lesson for a young editor. I had been appointed five years previously aged just 32.

I’ll admit now that editing a venerable weekly newspaper institution that was the Darlington & Stockton Times had not been part of my career plan. I had spent the previous seven years as a reporter, news editor, sub-editor and assistant editor on the D&S’ sister daily paper The Northern Echo and I worried how I would adjust to the rhythm of a weekly publication.

But I also knew I was being offered an opportunity to take on one of the most successful and biggest selling weekly titles in the UK, a newspaper that despite – or perhaps because of – its old-fashioned appearance had steadily increased its circulation during Peter Ridley’s 11-year tenure.

Successfully applying for the editorship was something I never regretted because over the quarter of a century I had the honour of being in that role, I grew to love the D&S – and its readers.

I am sure many editors believe this about the papers they edited, but I firmly believe the D&S had, and still has, a special relationship with its readers.

One thing I noticed very quickly after being appointed was how people reacted to me in social situations.

When I had introduced myself as someone who worked as a journalist on The Northern Echo, I was often greeted with a degree of reserve, even suspicion. Now I worked for the D&S the reaction was different. There was a warmth, a respect even.

People would say how much they loved the paper, that it was a fixture in their homes every week, that they ensured their newsagent kept copies for them when they went on holiday so they could catch up with local news on their return. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on anything important,” I remember one dedicated reader telling me.

Another reader once said to me: “I like your paper. It’s comfortable, it’s friendly.”

At that time, as a young editor, I wasn’t sure that this was an entirely good thing, but as the years went by I appreciated that comment more and more. At a time when newspapers generally were not always perceived as a force for good, the knowledge that my paper was seen as a welcome addition to people’s homes was cheering.

The changes introduced at the time of the 150th anniversary were just a few among many. My mission was to gradually, bit by bit, modernise the newspaper and the way it was produced.

Those changes began under my predecessor with the end of hot metal production and the introduction of computer type-setting.

Much more followed over the years I was in charge, with the move to Friday publication from Saturday, two re-designs, the introduction of full colour, the arrival of the Weekend Times features supplement and finally, in 2009, the switch from broadsheet to tabloid (or compact as we preferred to call it, mindful of the connotations the phrase 'tabloid newspaper' conjured up).

I also adopted a slightly different approach in our coverage of local issues, overtly campaigning on issues such as Government funding for rural market towns struggling in the wake of foot and mouth.

The Market Town Revival campaign won the D&S the title of UK Campaigning Weekly Newspaper of the Year in the Newspaper Society awards in the year 2000.

In this period the D&S was also voted the North-East Weekly Newspaper of the Year on multiple occasions.

Through all these changes I was always mindful that the elements which in many ways made the paper unique locally – the in-depth reporting of local authorities, the Town and Village section, the WIs, Guilds YFCs, the wedding reports, mart prices etc – should retain their rightful place.

I wanted to make sure that the newspaper readers felt ‘comfortable’ with retained its essential character.

My editorship spanned the period during which the industrial revolution that was the arrival of the internet changed everything to do with the presentation and distribution of news.

In 1992, the year I became editor, the internet was still in its infancy. Tim Berners-Lee had joined up the computer dots to create the World Wide Web only three years previously.

What that meant – just 30 years ago – was that if you wanted to know what was going on in your community you had to buy a local newspaper. It was where you got your local information, where you found a house or car to buy, or found a job. There was no Google, social media like Facebook, Indeed or Rightmove.

The full blossoming of the digital revolution had profound implications for all newspapers, not just the D&S.

The challenge of moving the newspaper online while maintaining the standard of the printed version was difficult, especially when the advertising revenues that made the paper profitable and enabled me to employ journalists to produce it were under threat. There were times when I wished the internet had never been invented.

I gave almost a quarter of a century of my working life to the D&S and I am immensely proud to have done so. The thrill of picking up a copy of the paper as it arrived from the printers each week of my editorship never left me.

And even though I have not been directly involved in its production from more than seven years, I still look forward to seeing the D&S every Friday.

I loved the relationship with the readers I have talked about. They were always keen to tell me what they thought, good or bad.

I also loved the fact that they cared about a newspaper which, in many instances, was integral to their lives and their parents’ lives before them.

I loved having a hand in launching the careers of many young reporters who began their working lives on the D&S, learning the basics of being a good journalist on the showfield, in the council chamber or courtroom, before in time moving to what was then called Fleet Street or the BBC or local radio.

I loved working with my colleagues who, week after week, gave their all to produce the best newspaper possible. Names or bylines you may recall include Nicholas Rhea, Mike Bridgen, Brian Redhead, Jill Neill and Debbie Walker.

Did we ever come up with the perfect edition? Absolutely not (there is no such thing as the perfect newspaper) – but we had good fun trying.