In remembrance of Robin McGibbon
MOURNED: Robin with his wife Sue
FRIENDS and colleagues pay tributes to former Expressman and author Robin McGibbon, who died on 15 December 2024, aged 85.
TERRY MANNERS: Robin McGibbon knew all about life … especially the lives of other people. To me he will always be the storyteller of the famous and I hope he roams among the stars now as he roamed amongst them on Earth.
From wrestling with Hollywood icon Oliver Reed on the floor of a Seychelles hotel bar, to playing football with Tom Finney, being welcomed at Parkhurst and Broadmoor by the notorious Kray twins, and working with their older brother Charlie, he lived a colourful life with a relentless ability to pick himself up off the floor in the dark moments of life. Sadly, he has lost his last battle, aged 85.
Robin was a walking storybook himself … telling how he burned his face in the Atlanta sun waiting to interview dancer Ginger Rogers who was starring in cabaret. She found him waiting in her dressing room and had to massage his face with suncream.
How Telly Savalas boasted to him that he once swam for his life to escape gangsters … but Robin was told later by a producer that the star couldn’t swim. How he had never seen someone drink so much beer in one night as singer Andy Williams; how he turned up for an arranged interview with Bridget Bardot at her home and she set her dogs on him; how star Gina Lollobrigida invited him to dinner when he missed his plane … only to find himself surrounded by dukes and earls in dinner jackets and bow ties, as he stood out in a powder blue suit. The stories were endless.
During his time with us, Robin would arrive in the Express newsroom where he worked as a news and features sub, always carrying a battered but expensive, and beautiful, burgundy leather briefcase with gold locks, that travelled all over the world with him. He used to joke that it held more secrets than Churchill’s bunker. A man he admired so much, that he listened to his recorded wartime speeches at home.
Inside that Dunhill case, had been and were to be, the lives of Barbara Windsor; football legend Paul Gascoigne; boxer Billy Walker; pop icon Mick Hucknall, boy band sensation New Kids On The Block; TV presenter Phillip Scholfield; Kray gangster Chris Lambrianou and the inside stories of Battersea Dogs’ Home. He wrote books on them all, many of them reaching the best-seller lists.
How I remember that case lying on the desk. One night in the Seventies he opened it in the newsroom and took out a neatly-typed 3,000-word interview with 60s actor Derren Nesbitt, who played Major von Hapen in the 1968 film Where Eagles Dare and asked me to tell him what I thought, before he sold it to the Sun. It was the most brilliant piece of writing – and journalism and just flowed from page to page.
Rob, born in Lewisham of Scottish descent, was a newspaperman born and bred and worked on a series of weekly and evening newspapers before joining the old Daily Sketch. He met his second wife Sue, who worked in our advertising department, 50 years ago this December in the art-deco lobby of the Express. They went for a business lunch.
He knew he wanted to marry her from that day on.
For years he was the managing director of Everest books living a jet-set life between London and Los Angeles, producing the stories of stars of sport, stage and screen and when the publishing business took a downturn, he turned his hand at cheque book journalism and selling the big showbiz and crime scoops to the national dailies for big money. Sun editor Kelvin MacKenzie always had his door open for Rob, as did others.
One of Rob’s first books was ‘New Kids on the Block – The Whole Story by Their Friends’, a biography of the American pop phenomenon. The book was co-written with his son, Robin, also a journalist. It reached No.10 on the New York Times bestsellers list and remained on the WH Smith’s bestsellers in the UK for months.
He became a trusted confidant of the Kray twins and released three hours of taped conversations he held with the two former crime lords, as well as their brother Charlie.
Reggie opened up to Robin about his philosophy on life, and Ronnie talked of his views on Myra Hindley and his tax affairs.
Rob said: “We became friendly, but it was always work. I really wanted to do their story. Ronnie was the easiest to like and we became quite close.
“When he was suffering a mental breakdown, he wrote 23 poignant letters to me in two emotional weeks.”
Robin’s wife Sue met Ronnie in Broadmoor and, later, Reg, when he was in Maidstone and was asked to speak on his behalf at Ron’s funeral in 1995. She also spoke at the funerals of Charlie and his son Gary. That was how much they had all bonded.
Robin’s last book aptly called perhaps: Final Deadline, was crime fiction, based on his lifetime experience of working in Fleet Street. Sue would edit and he would send it to me bit by bit to read. I could recognise many of the characters he drew on.
He was planning another, loving to work in his garden office all through the summer, with the memories of his life in pictures and cuttings adorning the walls.
May he charm the after world, like he charmed so many on Earth. I will miss him greatly and wonder what his next book will be.
Note: Robin’s funeral will be a private family affair. That was his wish.
ALAN FRAME: Robin died in the Princess Royal University Hospital, Orpington, where his wife Sue, had been recovering from a major operation. She had nursed him through his illness. I am saddened to learn of the death of Robin. Like so many we have known for decades he seemed to be a permanent fixture and indeed, compared with so many long lost friends, he was.
We first met in 1969 on the Sketch of beloved memory. I had joined after three years on the Express in Manchester and we were both hired as news subs by the night editor Peter Grover, as decent a man as ever graced our trade, and later deputy editor of the Mail. The Sketch editor at the time was Howard French, former Mosley Blackshirt and celebrated mangler of metaphors. Favourites were ‘sailing on a sticky wicket’ and ‘the Russian tiger never changes its spots.’
When the paper folded I think we went our separate ways, me with David English to the Mail and Rob to freelancing and publishing until we found ourselves together again on the Express. He wrote 11 books, most notably several on the Krays having won their confidence over more than 10 years (and lived to tell the tale). They were best sellers as was his biography of Barbara Windsor, herself a former lover of Charlie Kray.
Robin was particularly kind about my rather more modest efforts, both as author and Drone columnist. In fact, I last heard from him on November 27 when he rightly pulled me up for spelling Peter Sellers incorrectly but was at pains to say nice things about the general content.
Three years ago he emailed me after attending Ian Wooldridge’s memorial service and we were immediately transported back to the late ‘60s:
‘Like you I have much to thank Peter Grover for: when he became Sketch night editor — a year before he hired you — he rang me at The Sun, where I'd worked for two years, and asked if I'd like to go back to Carmelite Street. I did, and we met for a drink in the Mucky Duck to talk it through. I wanted to leave the Sun so much that when Peter brought up money I added just a quid on to what I was getting at the Sun. Stupid boy!
‘It turned out well, though: after David English took over as editor Peter rang me at home, asking to see me before my shift the next day. English was looking for someone with bright ideas to work with a former Express colleague (Bill Lowther) on Features and Peter had recommended me.
‘The last time I saw Peter was at Ian Wooldridge's memorial service at the Guards' Chapel. He was clearly struggling physically because he was severely hunched and walking very, very slowly. I was hobbling, too - with a stick - and didn't think it was appropriate to catch him up and have a chat.
‘Lovely man. Great talent.
‘All our bleedin' yesterdays, eh?’
Indeed Robin, all our very happy yesterdays. Rest well old pal and I’m sure there’s a book or two about the fellow residents of your new home.
ALASTAIR McINTYRE: I first met Robin in the 1990s when he joined the Daily Express after the failure of his publishing business. He was a class apart from the rest of the subs because he had run a business and written books, most notably about the Kray brothers.
His novel, Final Deadline, is a terrific read. The synopsis reads: “Final Deadline, a fast-paced, dialogue-led story, soaked in the atmosphere of 70s’ London, tells the story of ex-national newspaper reporter Ross McLean, whose misplaced loyalty to former local paper colleague Harry Wise has catastrophic consequences for both of them.” It is available on Amazon
I remember Robin as a great operator and an agreeable friend of multi-faceted talents. We kept in touch in later years, by email and at the occasional funeral and became quite fond of each other. He once sent me a book about football in the 1950s quite out of the blue. That was typical of the man.
I am an incurable purveyor of soubriquets and Robin once made the mistake of telling me his nickname in his football-playing days was Stumpy. Robin was short of stature, small but perfectly formed, you could say, and one day when he was playing his favourite game a spectator called out to him: ‘Oi, Stumpy!’ Followed, I shouldn’t wonder, by some well-meaning insult.
From that moment he was Stumpy to his chums on the Express.
More recently, Robin became the Daily Drone’s very own proof-reader, apologetically pointing out literals and other mistakes I had made as editor. I will greatly miss our regular communications.
My heart goes out to his wife Sue, of whom he was inordinately proud.
Sleep well, Stumpy old chum, you will be missed … and I will try not to make so many mistakes in future.
Anyone who wants to send a message to Robin's wife Sue, can do so on: mcgibsnr@aol.com. She will read them all but is unable to reply to them all at this unhappy time and hopes we understand.
18 December 2024
