`SOMETIMES MY MOTHER RINGS UP'

Roy Greenslade meets the editor of the News of the World, not yet 30 and already

established as a muck-raking great

PIERS MORGAN is the twelfth News of the World editor I have met over a quarter of a century. No, they cannot all be dis- missed with a trite quip about the dirty dozen, for in almost every case there has been a chasm of difference between their prudish personas and the prurient newspa- pers they produced.

Stafford Somerfield, editor when Rupert Murdoch bought the paper in 1969, was — to use a typical NoW descrip- tion — a bit of a toff. Yet he was castigat- ed by almost every establishment figure when he serialised Christine Keeler's memoirs, a row which eclipsed in intensity many similar eruptions since.

The only NoW editor who tried to live up (or down?) to the supposed public image of a licentious yellow pressman was Barry Askew. Known by the sobriquet The Beast of Bouverie Street, he managed to offend the Queen, Rupert Murdoch and the majority of his staff in his few unlamented months in the chair.

When Patsy Chapman stepped down earlier this year, Murdoch — leaning heavily on advice from his then favourite son, Kelvin MacKenzie — called on 28- year-old Piers Morgan to take over. His first few months suggest that Murdoch may finally have found a man who will last in the most notorious seat in journalism: the erstwhile Sun pop gossip columnist has maintained the paper's 4.7 million circula- tion while publishing a string of sensational stories.

Mr Morgan is anything but a hard-bitten hack, a foul-mouthed sly schemer with a chip on his shoulder. Just the reverse: he is a nice, well-brought up, well-educated, well-adjusted, middle-class young man, who might have made a mint in the City but instead is making his mark (and his mint) in newspapers.

Since his arrival eight months ago, the NoW has published a stream of scandals which have caused, depending on one's sympathies (or involvement), large mea- sures of misery, misfortune and mirth.

Mr Morgan showed his mettle — and his will to continue the paper's 151-year tradi- tion as the nation's brashest rumour-mon- ger — in his second week in the chair when he presided over the public embarrassment of the Tory MP Hartley Booth. The man who inherited Mrs Thatcher's Commons seat resigned from a junior gov- ernment post after the paper revealed his relationship with a student journalist. To show even-handedness, Labour MP Dennis Skinner (headline: 'The Beast of Legover') soon got similar treatment. Then Alan Clark, the former defence minister, suf- fered ridicule when the NoW published evi- dence of his dalliances with a mother and daughter.

In March, the Chief of the Defence Staff, Sir Peter Harding, was forced to resign after NoW reporters exposed him for con- sorting with a lady of dubious reputation. Along the way, there has been the usual diet of revelations about randy vicars and paedophiliac scoutmasters, along with sor- did tales of television soap stars. But it has been in the field of the great- est soap opera of our time, the fall of the House of Windsor, that Mr Morgan's News of the World has been most prominent and persistent. Its track record in recent weeks has been, even by its own panting stan- dards, breathtaking.

In late July the paper revealed that cer- tain of the Princess of Wales's medical records had been stolen from a psy- chotherapist she had consulted.

On 21 August we learned about 'Di's cranky phone calls to married tycoon', in which it transpired that art dealer Oliver Hoare had complained to the police about scores of silent calls. These were found to have emanated from the Princess of Wales's phone number, and newspapers around the globe gave acres of newsprint to the story in the following days.

A week later the NoW splashed on `Di's Major' (James Hewitt) complaining, 'I've had cranky calls too.' It was the precursor to the blockbusting story which the paper eventually broke on 2 October, in which it outwitted every rival, and the book pub- lishers Bloomsbury, by revealing Hewitt's (alleged) affair with the Princess of Wales.

Last Sunday the paper carried yet anoth- er 'royal exclusive', a first-hand account by a marine commando ordered to maintain surveillance on the Princess and Hewitt on behalf of the security services.

In between all these royal scandals, the NoW also revealed that the Bishop of Durham had been involved in 'a gay sex scandal' some 26 years ago. That story too set the national news agenda for days.

Could one man, the youngest national newspaper editor in 50 years, be responsi- ble for all this? And is he happy with what he has achieved? The answers to both questions are yes, but he qualifies the for- mer by handing his staff the accolade.

`They are the ones who bring in the sto- ries. This isn't false modesty. The only credit I would take is having the balls to run the stories.'

Mr Morgan is the son of a businessman, raised in Newick, East Sussex, where he continues to turn out for the village cricket team on summer Sundays. He was brought up as Pugh-Morgan, but reduced his name to a single barrel 'because it was a bit too long for bylines'. He went to a good prep school and then, money being tight, to a state comprehensive, rather than the expected private school. He started his career on a Surrey weekly, secured report- ing shifts on the Sun and ended up as a columnist. It has been a rapid rise.

He is fresh-faced and bright-eyed, but his previously slim frame is beginning to fill out and he is developing the blotchy pallor that seems to affect so many who work endless hours in newspaper offices. We met in his nondescript Wapping office, where the most notable decorations are giant-sized enlargements of three of his favourite News of the World front pages. His accent and vocabulary betray his mid- dle-class background, though I detected attempts to affect classlessness. He is articu- late and candid, not at all defensive, as he argues his case with pride.

`On the Hewitt-Diana story, I held a council of war with my three top execu- tives. I often do this because I'm only 29 years old and I'm aware I have experi- enced journalists around. But I do have to make the final decision.'

It is these decisions which fascinate, of course. On the word of this man hangs the fate of so many figures with supposedly impeccable reputations. Behind Mr Mor- gan I note the front-page headline 'Chief of Defence in sex and security scandal', and I ask how he can justify 'the sad case of Sir Peter Harding'.

'I don't think he's a sad case at all! I'm quite happy to talk about that.'

`But you set him up, and you brought him down.'

`Absolutely. I'd do the same thing again tomorrow. He was the chief of the defence staff, behaving in a way that was quite appallingly stupid for a man in his position and also compromising the job he was doing.

`All army officers had only recently been sent a memo saying that adultery would result in dismissal. Yet while the Gulf war was raging he was wining and dining his mistress. It was hypocritical.'

Mr Morgan knows some of the army reaction from the inside because his broth- er is a captain, and his brother-in-law a major serving in Bosnia. 'They'd let me know if I had done the wrong thing.'

Though he is at pains to point out he does not see himself as a moral guardian, it is obvious that hypocrisy is his main jus- tification for deciding whether to publish. The second test (given that the story's veracity is proved) is whether there has been a breach of security. Sir Peter failed on both counts. But I ask, 'Is it wrong then for anyone to commit adultery?'

`I'm no great moraliser. But I think it's wrong for people in positions of power to commit adultery if, by so doing, they leave themselves or their jobs exposed. And it's wrong if they're preaching one thing and doing another.

`I'm not dictating to ordinary people, but say a married woman sleeps with the village policeman, her husband finds out, there's a fight and someone tells the News of the World. Then we'll run it. Is that wrong? Well, four point nine million peo- ple thoroughly enjoyed the News of the World last week.'

Giving the people what they want. It is every tabloid editor's most common justifi- cation for controversial content. But there are ethical concerns too. Had Mr Morgan ever taken a decision not to publish because of moral qualms?

`Where do you think you're going, Hewitt?' He thinks not. Then he recalls the case of the BT operator who chatted up a caller. She tracked down his address and then started pestering the man. A NoW reporter confronted her. She broke down and said she had just been released from mental hospital after trying to kill herself. If they used the story she would try again. Her story checked out and Mr Morgan refused to run his one. 'Morally, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if she had killed herself.'

But what about the Bishop of Durham? Surely there was no public interest in his having committed an indecent act in a pub- lic lavatory 26 years ago? And did it not breach the Rehabilitation of Offenders Act, which prevents disclosure of minor offences after five years.

Again, in Mr Morgan's view, the key was the Bishop's hypocrisy. 'I thought very long and hard about it. It was obvious the convic- tion was spent. What sealed it for me was the fact that he had said quite categorically there was no place in the ministry for gay clergy- men. It was a totally contradictory remark to make. Our fourth most senior churchman was guilty of rank hypocrisy.'

It is also true that under Mr Morgan the paper has had only a couple of minor PCC adjudications against it, no libel actions and no serious writs. He is also keen to stress that 'in the course of this year we have put thirty-six people away in prison as a direct result of investigations, such as drug rings. That's very laudatory.'

Fine, but it is impossible not to return repeatedly to the question of his continuing ethical dilemma. His newspaper — as ever — sells by both promoting sex and affecting to condemn it. Similarly, it exposes royalty to mockery, undermining its base, while depending on its existence. Suddenly, we do glimpse the editor as moral arbiter: I totally believe in the monarchy as an institution. We must have it. But I don't agree with royals behaving like the rest of us. If we're going to give them palaces to live in, then they should behave in a regal manner.' He even suggests that 'Princess Diana's come out of it well ... she's more loved than she ever was . . . the Hewitt exposure probably did her more good than harm.' I demur, and he falls back on a former argu- ment: 'My ultimate defence of stories is that they are one hundred per cent true. / don't make moral judgments.' I wondered what Mr Morgan's respectable family thought about his day job. 'Sometimes my mother rings up and tells me to leave Diana alone. My grand- mother will say, "That's a revolting load of rubbish you printed this morning." But when I press her further she will admit she found it entertaining.' And what about his old school, ChaileY comprehensive? 'Funny you should men- tion that. The headmistress has just written to me asking me to open their new science building. Evidently, I'm their most famous old boy. I'll be delighted to do it.'