David Baird's Blog, page 2

RUPERT MURDOCH’S BIGGEST BLUNDER

AUSTRALIA’S OUTBACK IS A ROUGH, TOUGH PLACE. And nobody knows that better than the world’s leading media tycoon: Rupert Murdoch, dubbed the Dirty Digger.

He controls scores of newspapers and television channels from Tasmania to New York City. But he has not had it all his own way. 

Way back in the 1960s, before Murdoch set out to conquer the world, he learned a useful lesson: before going into battle, carefully check the opposition.

He blundered by starting a circulation war in the wrong place: the Outback. And ended up making a humiliating retreat. The scene was Mount Isa, a tough mining town lost in the red rock desert of northwest Queensland.

Murdoch ran the only newspaper in town, the Mail, which came out twice a week. It had the field to itself — until the miners staged a disastrous strike and the Mail made a tactical error by supporting them.

That was too much for the mining company. After all, it was their town. They controlled pretty well everything that went on in The Isa. The company secretly decided to start its own paper and mounted an undercover operation fronted by Asher Joel, a dynamic Sydney PR man.

Fresh off the boat, this naive journalist joined Joel’s paper and stepped into a frontier war zone. Mount Isa, I soon learned, was a trifle isolated, a mere 1,000 miles from Brisbane and 600 miles away, over mainly dirt roads, from a town of any size.

The Isa was dubbed The Copper Crucible. And no wonder. Many a newcomer gasped in the scorching heat as he stepped off the plane – and booked the next flight out. Most Aussies shunned the place. But, attracted by the high wages, more than 50 nationalities toiled in The Isa.

Unlike the ramshackle Mail, the new paper – the North-West Star – was printed on the latest web offset in a brand-new airconditioned plant. Printers and journos were recruited from the Sydney Daily Telegraph at top pay.

Getting wind of this, Murdoch flew in by private aircraft to encourage his staff.  “Don’t worry!” he reportedly told them. “We’re going to win. I’ll stand by you against the mines.”

Soon, to the bewilderment of many locals, The Isa had two daily papers, hitting the streets seven days a week. Their staffs were working 18 hours a day with no days off. For a while the Star’s journos and printers were the best paid in the country.

When the first Star came out, miners ritually burned the paper in one of the pubs. Reporters were threatened, scurrilous rumours were fabricated. But PR man Asher Joel knew his trade.  The Star, a modern, clean-looking product, set out to assure readers that theirs was “a good town”. Sometimes the paper gave the impression we were living in a sort of tropical paradise.

This required a certain stretch of the imagination. There was the dust for one thing. Red and choking, it permeated everything. It was so dusty, said locals, that the crows flew backwards to keep the stuff out of their eyes.

The Isa was also subject to plagues. Gidgee bugs, for example. They arrived one evening, millions of squishy moths fluttering into your mouth, your eyes, your beer.

But worst was the heat. The Isa is in one of Australia’s hottest areas. The sun strikes your head like a hammer blow. At night the temperature is rarely below 90 degrees F and, just before The Wet, it soars to 120 degrees F.

This, plus the near-total aridity, produces a monumental thirst. The Isa claimed to have the highest beer consumption per head in the whole country. The worst thing you could do was get between a man and his “stubby”. Men had died for less.

There were three pubs. At mid-day semi-comatose Aborigines lazed on the sidewalk outside and inside it was the Wild West. Clients were faced by a gang of hard-faced individuals boasting Schwarzenegger physiques. And they were just the barmaids!

Fans whirled overhead as a hundred or so husky miners, in singlets and shorts, swigged, sweated and swore. To keep up with demand the barmaids filled 30 glasses at a time, using a hose. Now and again a drinker would slump to the floor, but nobody paid any attention. Eventually he would stagger to his feet, check that nobody had nobbled his cash piled on the counter and order another beer.

In contrast to the sober, reassuring Star, Murdoch’s Mail — with smudgy print, monster headlines and murky pictures — screamed at the readers. The stories, apparently evolved in the pub, became ever more strident and more hysterical.

It really came off the rails when it alleged that local schoolgirls were on the game. Offended readers gave up the Mail in droves. The battle was costing Murdoch a fortune. Costs were soaring. No problem for Mount Isa Mines. It made huge profits from the tons of copper, lead, silver and zinc harvested from the red rock, and its owners, a New York corporation, had vast resources.

Then, after two months, Asher Joel let it be known that he was thinking of starting a second paper, in Darwin where another Murdoch publication ruled the roost.

This was too much for the Digger. Abruptly he announced that he was “rationalising” news services. The Mail closed immediately and out on the street went the faithful staff.

Asher Joel went on to conquer fresh fields, even acquiring a knighthood.

And Murdoch? Some say that he ended up peddling pizzas on Bondi Beach. Others claim that, smarting with humiliation, he took boat to Europe where he faded into well-merited obscurity.

You can believe what you like, sport. But I’ll tell you one thing: he never showed his face in The Isa again.

How Murdoch came a cropper

HE IS THE MEDIA TYCOON PERSONIFIED. He controls scores of newspapers and television channels from Tasmania to New York City. Indeed the Dirty Digger is not a man to tangle with.  But he has not had it all his own way. 

Way back in the 1960s, before Rupert Murdoch set out to conquer the world, he learned a useful lesson: before going into battle, carefully check the opposition.

He blundered by starting a circulation war in the wrong place: Australia’s Outback. And ended up making a humiliating retreat. The scene was Mount Isa, a tough mining town lost in the red rock desert of northwest Queensland.

Murdoch ran the only newspaper in town, the Mail, which came out twice a week. It had the field to itself — until the miners staged a disastrous strike and the Mail made a tactical error by supporting them.

That was too much for the mining company. After all, it was their town. They controlled pretty well everything that went on in The Isa. The company secretly decided to start its own paper and mounted an undercover operation fronted by Asher Joel, a dynamic Sydney PR man.

Fresh off the boat, this naive journalist joined Joel’s paper and stepped into a frontier war zone. Mount Isa, I soon learned, was a trifle isolated, a mere 1,000 miles from Brisbane and 600 miles away, over mainly dirt roads, from a town of any size.

The Isa was dubbed The Copper Crucible. And no wonder. Many a newcomer gasped in the scorching heat as he stepped off the plane – and booked the next flight out. Most Aussies shunned the place. But, attracted by the high wages, more than 50 nationalities toiled in The Isa.

Unlike the ramshackle Mail, the new paper – the North-West Star – was printed on the latest web offset in a brand-new airconditioned plant. Printers and journos were recruited from the Sydney Daily Telegraph at top pay.

Getting wind of this, Murdoch flew in by private aircraft to encourage his staff.  “Don’t worry!” he reportedly told them. “We’re going to win. I’ll stand by you against the mines.”

Soon, to the bewilderment of many locals, The Isa had two daily papers, hitting the streets seven days a week. Their staffs were working 18 hours a day with no days off. For a while the Star’s journos and printers were the best paid in the country.

When the first Star came out, miners ritually burned the paper in one of the pubs. Reporters were threatened, scurrilous rumours were fabricated. But PR man Asher Joel knew his trade.  The Star, a modern, clean-looking product, set out to assure readers that theirs was “a good town”. Sometimes the paper gave the impression we were living in a sort of tropical paradise.

This required a certain stretch of the imagination. There was the dust for one thing. Red and choking, it permeated everything. It was so dusty, said locals, that the crows flew backwards to keep the stuff out of their eyes.

The Isa was also subject to plagues. Gidgee bugs, for example. They arrived one evening, millions of squishy moths fluttering into your mouth, your eyes, your beer.

But worst was the heat. The Isa is in one of Australia’s hottest areas. The sun strikes your head like a hammer blow. At night the temperature is rarely below 90 degrees F and, just before The Wet, it soars to 120 degrees F.

This, plus the near-total aridity, produces a monumental thirst. The Isa claimed to have the highest beer consumption per head in the whole country. The worst thing you could do was get between a man and his “stubby”. Men had died for less.

There were three pubs. At mid-day semi-comatose Aborigines lazed on the sidewalk outside and inside it was the Wild West. Clients were faced by a gang of hard-faced individuals boasting Schwarzenegger physiques. And they were just the barmaids!

Fans whirled overhead as a hundred or so husky miners, in singlets and shorts, swigged, sweated and swore. To keep up with demand the barmaids filled 30 glasses at a time, using a hose. Now and again a drinker would slump to the floor, but nobody paid any attention. Eventually he would stagger to his feet, check that nobody had nobbled his cash piled on the counter and order another beer.

In contrast to the sober, reassuring Star, Murdoch’s Mail — with smudgy print, monster headlines and murky pictures — screamed at the readers. The stories, apparently evolved in the pub, became ever more strident and more hysterical.

It really came off the rails when it alleged that local schoolgirls were on the game. Offended readers gave up the Mail in droves. The battle was costing Murdoch a fortune. Costs were soaring. No problem for Mount Isa Mines. It made huge profits from the tons of copper, lead, silver and zinc harvested from the red rock, and its owners, a New York corporation, had vast resources.

Then, after two months, Asher Joel let it be known that he was thinking of starting a second paper, in Darwin where another Murdoch publication ruled the roost.

This was too much for the Digger. Abruptly he announced that he was “rationalising” news services. The Mail closed immediately and out on the street went the faithful staff.

Asher Joel went on to conquer fresh fields, even acquiring a knighthood.

And Murdoch? Some say that he ended up peddling pizzas on Bondi Beach. Others claim that, smarting with humiliation, he took boat to Europe where he faded into well-merited obscurity.

You can believe what you like, sport. But I’ll tell you one thing: he never showed his face in The Isa again.

LA GENTE DE LA SIERRA

SALE UNA NUEVA EDICIÓN en castellano del libro de David Baird sobre una guerra olvidada — la lucha de unos guerrilleros en los años 1940 contra el regimen de Franco. Era una guerra de que el público no fue informada, ni dentro del país ni afuera.

Cada día hay menos gente que vivío en su propia carne aquella lucha. Uno por uno, los testigos se van desapareciendo. Pero el libro La gente de la sierra — Lucha sin cuartel contra las fuerzas franquistas deja constancia del impacto terrible de aquella guerra desconocida en las sierras de Málaga y Granada.

Recoge el testimonio — apasionante, espeluznante y emocionante — de los campesinos de la Axarquía. Y también de los guerrilleros y de la Guardia Civil.

Comenta el escritor Ian Gibson en el prólogo: “Para muchos españoles el  libro va a ser una revelación…es el resultado de muchos años de paciente indagación y de numerosas entrevistas, a veces muy dificiles de conseguir.”

En Andalucía ‘El Roberto’, un jefe enigmático y carismático, organizó la rebelión de la gente de la sierra. En medio se encontraban los campesinos, víctimas de decisiones llegadas en Madrid, Moscú, Paris, Londres, Washington…

Hablan en este libro gente del pueblo, gente sin pretensiones, gente sin voz. Cuentan cómo una comunidad se encontró en medio de un torbellino de fuerzas sobre el cual no tenía ningún control. Es la historia de lo que pasó en un pueblo entre muchos, un trocito de la historia de España.

Entre la información inédita se incluyen detalles de cómo:

• agentes secretos americanos adiestraron y armaron

a los guerrilleros comunistas

• quedó encubierta durante más de 50 años la verdad

sobre el asesinato de tres jóvenes

‘Merece ser leído por todo aquel interesado

en la historia contemporánea de España’ — Paul Preston, historiador
La gente de la sierra está disponible también en inglés.

Land of surprises — the Other Costa

“East of Malaga – Your guide to the Axarquia and Costa Tropical is full of useful information and thoughtful advice. It contains everything you need to know about fiestas, sights, wine and food, places to stay and much more.” — The Mail on Sunday

Until recently there was no decent guide in English to the sub-tropical area to the east of Málaga. But that’s all changed thanks to a totally updated guide published by Maroma Press.

Here is all the info  you need to find delightful small hotels and good-quality restaurants as well as facilities for all manner of outdoor activities, from mountain biking to hiking, scuba-diving to canyoning.

With around 3,000 hours of sunshine every year, the Málaga and Granada coasts attract visitors and settlers from colder climes. But — fortunately — this part of the Mediterranean coast has not enjoyed the fame, nor notoriety, of the better-known Costa between Torremolinos and Marbella.

Looking for secluded beaches and hidden valleys, spectacular waterfalls and tasty local dishes?

Want to hike over lofty, snow-capped mountains? Or to drop in on unusual, colourful fiestas? Interested in sampling some of the region’s wines?

This guide will put you on the right track.

Follow in the footsteps of English writer Laurie Lee, who travelled this way in the 1930s. He noted: “The cliffs and mountains soaked up the sunsets like red sponges and the distant ragged edge of the sierras shone blue as a blunted saw.”

He was a poet. But you too may be moved to lyrical heights.

“East of Malaga – Your guide to the Axarquía and Costa Tropical” (Maroma Press) is on sale at Spain’s English-language bookshops and via Amazon and other on-line outlets.

“This is a little gem of a book. And perhaps the perfect eye- opener for jaded travellers who say ‘Spain? It’s all been spoiled, hasn’t it?’ “– Northern Echo, Darlington

Sunny Side — the 21st century hits a Spanish village

Sunny Side Up is David Baird’s ironic look at rural life, reflecting the dramatic changes in southern Spain since he went to live there more than 30 years ago. And now it’s part of a school curriculum — making it required reading in Spanish schools.

“This is a bit daunting,” admitted David, a journalist and author long based in the Axarquía (the eastern corner of Málaga province), when he heard that Sunny Side Up Up — The 21st century hits a Spanish village had been selected as a set book for Fifth Grade students at the Escuela Oficial de Idiomas in Motril, Granada province.

“I have to give presentations to the students and I’m used to asking questions rather than answering them.

“Fielding questions from a bunch of critical students is a different game — especially for somebody who until recently had never made a public speech in his life!”

Hilarious, nostalgic and moving, his book inspired the Sunday Times to comment: “Recommended reading for anybody who ever wondered what happened to the ‘real Spain’.”

After working around the world as a journalist, David has been based for some years in Spain, reporting  for international publications on everything from earthquakes to wine festivals.

Sunny Side Up is published by Maroma Press (www.maromapress.wordpress.com) and is available from English-language bookshops in Spain or from Amazon.

 

Praise from Lonely Planet

Lonely Planet, the leading guide book on Spain, has heaped praise on the Maroma Press publication Between Two Fires — Guerrilla war in the Spanish sierras. 

It comments: “A few communists and republicans continued their struggle after the Civil War in small guerrilla units in Andalucia’s mountains. David Baird’s book Between Two Fires fascinatingly documents the struggle between the guerrillas and the Guardia Civil around the village of Frigiliana in the 1940s and ’50s.”.

The fruit of years of investigation, Between Two Fires is the only book in English that relates what happened AFTER Spain’s Civil War, when rural communities were torn apart as rebels fought to undermine the Franco dictatorship.

To research what happened in those years when tight censorship sealed off Spain from the rest of the world author Baird interviewed former guerrillas, Civil Guards, villagers and their families.

He checked official files all over Spain and as far apart as London and Washington to find out just what happened in a war that went virtually unreported.

In the process  he uncovered details about a brutal crime that was covered up for more than 50 years and about the clandestine training of Spanish guerrillas by members of the American secret service.

Between Two Fires is on sale at English bookshops in Spain and from Amazon and other online outlets.

 

Nerja book signing

Author David Baird will be signing his books this coming Thursday at the Europa bookshop in downtown Nerja on Spain’s Costa del Sol.

If you have questions about recent local history, the guerrilla movement, why not many folk have a good word to say about General Franco, why on earth anybody wants to live in an Andalusian pueblo etc., etc., here’s your chance to make your point directly to David.

And if you have found any factual errors in his books, he will be glad to hear about them.

Just call in at the Europa bookshop, corner of Calle Granada and Plaza Cavana, between 10.30am and 1pm, this Thursday, February 4.

ICE, SNOW AND WAR IN THE SIERRAS

ANY DAY NOW the first snows will blanket the summit of one of southern Spain’s highest mountains — just a short distance from the Mediterranean beaches where (hardier) folk swim all year around.

La Maroma, soaring 2,068 metres, is the highest peak in Málaga province — and probably the closest thing to a holy mountain in these parts.

In the days before refrigeration the neveros (literally, “snowmen”) would trek to the top of Maroma to seek snow and ice. This they would pack hard in straw and load it in esparto baskets on the backs of mules. Transported to the coast, the ice was used to cool drinks or make ice-cream.

High up the mountain you can still see the casa de la nieve (house of snow), or rather its ruins, where snow was stored. Indeed, the name of this mountain stems — or so it is said — from the collection of ice from sinkholes, deep crevices 40 to 50 metres deep. The only way to reach the ice was by shinning down ropes, or maromas.

Quite a few malagueños dream of hiking to the summit at least once in their lifetimes. Some make a point of sleeping there at the summer solstice so as to see the dawn.

Their feelings are reflected in a plaque at the summit which records: “Here and now ends an ascent/Here and now begins another./This mountain is the centre of the world./This mountain unites land and sky./This mountain like any mountain is a sacred place./That’s why you are here…”

Abrupt changes in weather conditions can occur, sudden storms whipping across Maroma’s rocky, treeless slopes, trapping the unwary.

You can find out more about La Maroma and the surrounding area in Maroma Press’s East of Malaga – Your guide to the Axarquía and Costa Tropical. It’s the first English guide to this region.

Once outlaws roamed these mountains. And more recently a guerrilla movement hid out here. Learn more about it in Between Two Fires — Guerrilla war in the Spanish sierras, a poignant account of how (for years after the Spanish Civil War, ignored by the rest of Europe) this area suffered a brutal conflict.

TITLE IT RIGHT — HOW TO GRAB READERS

Picking the right title can make all the difference when your book goes on sale. But how do you find it? The possibilities are endless, as David Baird discovered.

What do these phrases have in common?

Sunstruck, Fiesta fever, Follow that mule!, Whitewash and olives, The vintage years, Is there a Spaniard in the pueblo?, Everything under the sun, The blossoms of spring, The sunshine life, The donkey that roared…

Answer: they are all suggested titles for a new book.They came from friends and acquaintances when I asked for their ideas.

One thing was plain: some of them had been over-imbibing. I mean: The donkey that roared, for heaven’s sake!

And something else was evident: finding a good title for your opus is not so simple.

It’s a problem every writer faces sooner or later. Choosing the right words can be critical. A book title must grab the browsers’ attention, persuade them to scan a few pages — and fork out their cash.

But the title must not defraud. If a purchaser feels he or she has been tricked, they are never going to trust you again.

When I finally typed “The End” on a work that I had been toiling over for months, there was no way I could think of a neat, catchy title.

So I called for help from everybody I knew. First I asked their opinion of “Are there butterflies in your pueblo?” Poetic, whimsical, I thought. They fell about laughing, scoffing “What does it mean?”

But these allegedly bright folk could do no better. When I explained that the book was about how complicated it could be to escape to the ‘simple’ life in a Spanish pueblo, they cried as one: “Whatever you do, don’t put a Spanish word in the title — Brits are confused by even the simplest foreign words!”

So out went “Garbanzos for breakfast”?

“Ho! Ho! What are these garabanzos? Is it a cookbook?”

How about “Street of bitterness”?

“Please!” they retorted. “Too sombre, too downbeat. Depressing. Is this a Greek tragedy?”

When I offered “We came to the village”, scorn was rampant. “Bland”, “dated”, “boring”.

But they didn’t only mock my ideas. They ridiculed their own. These bright sparks could not agree on anything.

Indeed, as more wild suggestions rained down, I got the impression that my advisers had all been hitting the vino.

A certain hysteria appeared to take over. Just look at their ideas — and comments:

Pueblo experience — Dry, must be a sociology primer.

Brandy for breakfast — Wet, must be another alcoholic saga.

When the grapes are ripe — Oh no!, more fruity reminiscences.

Driving over peanuts — Er, hasn’t that been done?

South of mañana — Surely a rip-off from another title.

Yes, they HAD been hitting the vino. The suggestions and comments became more ludicrous by the moment.

The grape escape — For wine connoisseurs?

Love in the afternoon — Has Hemingway risen from the dead?

Days of wine and whitewash — A dozy Brit waxing lyrical.

My head was spinning. Time to open a bottle of good red and re-read my manuscript. Inspiration would surely strike, sooner or later.

And — you know what? — it did. In the end I settled for Sunny Side Up — The 21st century hits a Spanish village.

Don’t ask me what exactly it means. But you must admit it has best-seller potential. Just like my other literary efforts: Between Two Fires, Typhoon Season, Don’t Miss the Fiesta!

Catchy, right? One day, surely, titles like these are bound to take off.

As for my next book, everything is starting to fall into place, including the title. You know, “The donkey that roared” does have a certain something…

What was that about film rights? Glad you asked. Yes, I’m open to offers.

(David Baird’s books are published by Maroma Press, https://maromapress.wordpress.com/)

 

NEW SPAIN GUIDE OUT NOW!

“The cliffs and mountains soaked up the��sunsets like red sponges and the distant ragged��edge of the sierras shone blue as a blunted saw.�����Thus English writer Laurie Lee described the coast of southern Spain when he travelled along it in the 1930s.

Much has changed since then but the region retains a magical quality. With around 3,000 hours of sunshine every year, the M��laga and Granada coasts have attracted visitors and settlers from colder climes.

Surprisingly, however, until recently there was no English-language guidebook giving in-depth information about the Axarqu��a region and Granada���s Costa Tropical.��Then “East of Malaga” was published, filling the gap.

But that was eight years ago and much has changed. Now a new, fully updated edition has been published by Maroma Press.

It offers all the practical information you need for a short visit or a long-term stay, ranging from secluded beaches to the snow-capped heights of the Maroma mountain, from cosy hotels to the region’s various wineries.

After basing himself here for some 40 years, author David Baird says that he still found surprises as he revised the book. He came across hidden valleys and unusual fiestas, spectacular waterfalls and tasty local dishes.

Reviewers have given this guide��the thumbs up!

“East of Malaga is full of useful information and thoughtful advice. It contains everything you need to know about fiestas, sights, wine and food, places to stay and much more.” �����The Mail on Sunday

“Like all good travel writers, Baird has an eye for the odd and eccentric. On your way, you’ll discover the village with its own currency, the hell-raising Morris dancers called Verdiales, the festival of breadcrumbs at Torrox, the hiding place of the region’s last bandit, Black Pudding Day at Canillas and a 10th century Moorish minaret now leaning more than the tower at Pisa” — Huddersfield Daily Examiner

“Surprisingly, there has been no specific guidebook to this area. With East of Malaga, award-winning author David Baird — a resident for 30 years — fills the gap splendidly.” — The Argus, Brighton

“This is a little gem of a book. And perhaps the perfect eye- opener for jaded travellers who say ‘Spain? It’s all been spoiled, hasn’t it?’ “– Northern Echo, Darlington

“East of Malaga – Your guide to the Axarqu��a and Costa Tropical” (Maroma Press)��goes on sale this month��at Spain’s English-language bookshops and��via Amazon and other on-line outlets.