THERE was a leg-pull going round the editorial floor of this newspaper in May 1982, that when Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip visited Worcester for the Maundy Service in the Cathedral they were going to have the honour of being presented to Mike Grundy and his wife Edith.
Of course the truth was the other way around, but the reality was our legendary, multi-award winning journalist was possibly better known in the Faithful City than the couple from SW1A.
As press photographer Roy Booker, his companion on so many assignments, cracked later: “Did the Queen get your autograph, Grund? She ought to hang on to it, it’ll be worth a bit in years to come!”
Sadly the year, month and day have come and Mike Grundy has passed on. He died aged 86 at home in Laugherne Road, Worcester with Edith nearby. But as well as his legacy to Worcester’s history and heritage, he leaves a wealth of memories for those of us who worked alongside him.
Stephanie Preece, editor of the Worcester News, said: “As a young journalist I remember being inspired by Mike’s incredible knowledge of Worcester and his obvious passion for the city. In return, the respect and affection the people of Worcester had for him was immense. Our paper has benefitted greatly from his many years of service to regional journalism.”
Former editors were swift to pay tribute too. Kevin Ward said: “Mike was massively respected as a real old-school journalist and a legend in Worcester.” Peter John added: “His knowledge and experience were invaluable in the newsroom and his writing was first rate. But most of all he was a true gentleman, a kind and helpful colleague to all.” While Stewart Gilbert recalled: “When I was at Worcester the city councillors still spoke of him with great fondness and empathy - a great journalist indeed.”
David Chapman, who did a spell as news editor in daily charge of the Worcester reporters, reflected: “My enduring memory of Grund was his painstaking thoroughness. He was the one reporter I trusted implicitly to turn in a story without it having to be checked by the news desk.
“However, many were the times when I would follow him out of the newsroom and see him walk slowly down the corridor towards the subs’ room, reading through his copy, probably for the umpteenth time, pause, lean against the wall to make a correction to the story, walk on, pause again, make another correction and then, reaching the door to subs, read it all through again while walking around in circles before finally being satisfied with what he had written and handing it in. And then he would be worried that he had missed something vital from the story. But, of course, he never had.”
Working in close proximity to this writing machine, as I did for many years, threw up its own challenges. In the days of hot lead printing and reporters using typewriters, every paragraph of a story had to be typed on a separate sheet of 8ins x 5ins copy paper. Most reporters, if they made a mistake in a word, were happy to xxxx through it and carry on.
Not Mike Grundy. He insisted on a perfectly presented story. Usually cursing under his breath, he would rip the errant words from his typewriter, crunch up the defaced (in his view) sheet and fling it in the nearest waste bin. By the end of the day there were enough balls of paper overflowing from the bin and scattered around his desk to account for half a Canadian timber forest.
The ladies who came in to clean up editorial every evening said a silent prayer when they discovered Mike had been on a day off.
He worked long hours too. Which brought its own hazards. I was with him one evening after Worcester City Council finished late and the pair of us were still writing up stories well after midnight. About 2am Mike finished and told me he was going to “jog” the half mile home. A brave plan I thought considering he was whacked. Nevertheless, he disappeared out of the editorial door and into the night.
Five minutes later he was back. The door re-opened and he stood there doubled up with pain and white as a sheet. “What’s happened?” I asked, thinking he might have been mugged. “B***** the City Council,” he gasped. It transpired during the day, council workmen had installed a concrete bollard in the centre of a footpath leading up from the rear of Berrow’s House in Hylton to Hardwick Close, off Henwick Road, the route he was taking back to Laugherne Road.
Along the unlit, uphill path he had run at full speed straight into the bollard which had, in cricketing terms, hit him at box height and felled him like a shot rhino. All I could offer was sympathy, a cup of tea and a lift home. He survived with some difficulty as I had a low-slung sports car which he entered and exited in considerable discomfort. Next morning assorted reporters, both male and female, offered to rub it better, but he declined all.
In fact this wasn’t the last occasion Mike suffered personal injury at the hands of a bit of council real estate. A few years later he tripped over a protruding plank on Sabrina footbridge and entered editorial his face bloody and bruised and looking like he’d been on the losing side against Mike Tyson. That time I gave him a lift to St John’s House Surgery.
Fortunately, Mike had a great sense of humour and was able to laugh off most situations. As David Chapman added: “I will never forget Grund’s sense of fun and his chuckle.”
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He was also not beyond spreading the fun. Fellow journalist Alec Mackie, with whom Mike shared many a press bench, recalled: “One evening I joined him on the press table in the Guildhall just in time to hear town clerk Bertram Webster say the next item on the agenda of the general purposes committee was the appointment of an organist to serve at the City’s crematorium.
“When it was announced the only candidate for the position was John Bee – who had recently retired as manager of the Gaumont Cinema where he also played the organ during the film intervals – Mike immediately began tapping away on the table as though he was playing a keyboard and humming the songs Fly Me to the Moon and Some Like it Hot. I couldn’t stop laughing and had to leave the room, still spluttering until I reached the gents toilet!”
Mike Grundy’s funeral will be in The Quire of Worcester Cathedral at 2pm on Tuesday, November 26. The service will be followed by private cremation. Family flowers only, but donations can be made to Worcester Cathedral. Funeral directors AV Band. St John’s Worcester.
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