The ideal editor

Dear Editor,
I remember the first day I met Mr de Caires. He was in the attic that was his office in the original premises. Sharief had taken me to him to be interviewed as a reporter. In his forthright manner, he queried why I wanted to become a reporter. His words of caution that I always associate with him were: “Journalism is not a glamorous job. It is hard work.” These are the words by which he lived his life as the chief editor and publisher of the Stabroek News. He came in earlier than the entire staff, save and except his editors, and put in a day of hard and often frustrating work before leaving. But that did not mean retiring for the day. He would call from his home to check on stories he left in progress and would even offer to edit them late into the night if necessary. He would let you stand by his side as he edited your work, so that you could see where it required improvement and how this could be done. He questioned what made little or no sense to him, so that you understood if he couldn’t get it, the ordinary reader would not either.

There are many memories that stand out about him, and there are large parts of his life that I knew nothing about. All I knew about him was that he was a lawyer who shared a love for publishing with his wife. His most admirable quality was an ability to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, even if to others it appeared that he was being naïve. He was courageous with a passion for truth and fairness.

But it is his role as an employer that stood out in my life. He gave everyone a chance, a fair and equal chance to prove him/herself.  And even if and when they fell from grace, he gave more chances for redemption, even if his editorial team felt differently. I remember once dismissing one of my staff and he called me to ask whether I did not think I was being too harsh. I stood my ground but he encouraged me to give that member of staff another go. He promised to work with that member of staff to ensure that he became a better writer. Like everything else, he stood by his word. I had forgotten my own road to writing, which he had guided and counselled. He was a kind and considerate employer. He always made allowances for personal troubles, even if it meant that the work suffered. Someone else was there to take up the slack. It was always a team. He always offered a keen ear and words of wisdom to make our lives easier.

I became that fearless reporter because of the faith and confidence he placed in me. It gave me, a country girl, the confidence to carve my own niche in the field of journalism.  I moved from the initially gauche person whose heart used to palpitate every time his secretary, Mrs Jeetlall, or my editor, Anand, would say, “Mr de Caires wants you in his office,” to the person who would happily rush to his office to discuss a new idea or development. It was his trademark. To make you feel that what you had to say was important. To listen.  To inspire in you the belief that anyone with the passion can become a good writer and anyone who had a story to tell should be listened to.

He was the ideal editor. He never told you what to write or how to write. But he always emphasised the responsibility of being accurate and fair.  Even after his initial heart troubles around 1993, he continued as before, relentlessly pursuing his passion. No story or letter was too insignificant to be published. He saw each as an eye-opener of what was happening in society. Each reporter had the ability to become something. He never complained about the frustrating editing required.  Tenaciously, he worked with each budding reporter to polish his or her work. It was their ideas, their hard work, but he made sense of it. Of course, he would recommend you to Anand’s work to see what is flawless and coherent writing. But his faith in his own staff was outstanding. His confidence in his editorial team was remarkable. He believed that if his employees were shareowners of the company, they would be more satisfied workers. So he gave shares out as rewards. He made the editorial department into a team. He became someone who would give an ear to anyone who knocked on his door.
His loss to Guyana is unimaginable. He represented the beacon of hope for a better society. He fearlessly pursued his ideals of a better and safer Guyana for each of its citizens. He never saw race or class. He only saw issues. His overriding concern was moving the economy forward for the benefit of all Guyanese and having a Guyana in which each citizen’s voice can be heard. A Guyana in which each cent of taxpayers’ money was well spent. Despite the disappointments, he still hoped and used his pen to lobby for positive changes. His concerns were not limited to Guyana but went wider ashore. His intellect was sharp and so was his pen. He took criticisms in his stride and responded in a manner befitting royalty. He made the Stabroek News a newspaper worthy of international recognition.

He leaves behind an irreplaceable legacy. He was the driver of that ambulance that Miles Fitzpatrick spoke of, the driver that Guyana desperately needed and still needs. But he has trained his reporters well and leaves a legacy of what can be achieved if we pursue our beliefs with passion and fairness. He is an inspiration to younger minds. He has given so much for so little in return. He lived his principle of not requiring a ‘Cadillac in a donkey cart economy.’

He has touched the lives of many in different ways. For me, he was a guiding force. An irreplaceable father-figure. A humanitarian to whom anyone could have turned for support. Someone on whom the entire nation could have depended to have his or her voice heard. He has indeed touched the lives of many ordinary people like me.

May his soul find a worthy rebirth in Guyana so that Guyana may continue to benefit from his patriotism and his passion for justice and fairness.  May all the reporters in Guyana live up to his ideals of balance, fairness and justice. I would recommend that a David de Caires Award for Excellence in Journalism in his honour be instituted.
Yours faithfully,
Gitanjali Singh