Covering the Royal Family

When Princess Margaret arrived back in Great Britain from her Caribbean tour last week, palace press officials breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone agreed that her trip was a great success, and her press relations were marred by only one unfortunate incident.* To the royal press secretaries, any such tour is a ticklish matter. At home the rules for press coverage are clearly drawn, i.e., the only official news on the royal family is handed out in daily court releases. But when royalty goes ajunketing, an entirely different set of rules applies. When the Queen Mother came to the U.S. last year, for example, she toured New York shops with the press trailing behind, then held a press conference, almost American style. But when the British press asked for the same sort of conference on her return home, they were sternly reminded by Buckingham Palace that things just are not done that way in Britain.

Underwear & Hair Tonic. In a nation where a change of a royal hairdo is news, covering the royal family is often the world's most frustrating assignment. Only two reporters are accredited to Buckingham Palace, representatives of the Press Association and Exchange Telegraph wire services. They act as little more than messengers, daily picking up carefully prepared handouts from the Queen's press secretary, Commander Richard Colville. A Scot whose titled family has long served in the royal household, Colville joined the Royal Navy in 1925, served on the royal yacht, was tapped by King George VI in 1947 to be press secretary, asked by Queen Elizabeth II to stay on as court spokesman. Dutifully, the London Times and the Daily Telegraph print his handouts under the royal coat of arms and the heading, "Court Circular."

But for the tabloids, whose readers thirst for backstairs gossip, the drab releases are not enough. They thrive on rumors (most of them inaccurate) picked up from various royal employees--and occasionally on eyewitness accounts by those who have left the royal household. On all such journalistic works the palace frowns. Last year, after an ex-valet to the Duke of Edinburgh wrote for the Sunday Pictorial that Philip wears long underwear in the winter, and uses a lotion to retard the thinning of his hair, Press Secretary Colville put his foot down. To the British Press Council went a stern note: "You will, I am sure, readily agree that the Queen is entitled to expect that her family will attain the privacy at home which all other families are entitled to enjoy." Royal employees are now required to sign a pledge not to publish or "give any information . . . which might be communicated to the Press."

Private Matter. When royalty goes nightclubbing, the word occasionally leaks out through a complex underground of waiters, doormen and band members. But any photographer who is sent to the scene is met at the door of the nightclub and turned away by a royal detective. Once a news photographer got a picture of six-year-old Prince Charles on his way to a cousin's birthday party. But when the photographer's editor called the palace to get some caption material, he was brusquely informed that the color of the coat was a "private matter."

Because palace newsbeats are so rare, they are treasured. Keystone Press Agency proudly claims two, both pictures of Prince Charles. One was a shot of the prince peeping over a wall watching a parade in 1950. The other was achieved early in 1949, when Keystone figured that some day soon the prince's nurse would wheel his pram into the gardens of Buckingham Palace. Keystone stationed a photographer with a long-range lens in a flat overlooking the gardens from a distance. After about two weeks, the big event happened. When papers printed the picture of nurse, Charlie and pram, irate palace officials put locks and guards on all buildings from which photos might be taken.

Passive Resistance. Nevertheless, enterprise can pay off. When Elizabeth was photographed at a 1946 wedding, standing next to Philip, Editor Herbert Gunn of the Evening Standard noticed her expression as she looked at Philip. He began tracing Philip's movements, found that they coincided closely with Elizabeth's, was the first to imply that they were in love. News of Margaret's romance with Group Captain Peter Townsend, though long rumored in Britain, was first broken by the American press. Once the story of the romance broke in the U.S., however, London papers played the story; the Daily Mirror even ran a poll among its readers to see if they approved of the affair (they did, 67,907 to 2,235). For the stunt the Mirror was reprimanded by the Press Council.

Sometimes the press rebels at the restrictions. A few weeks ago, when police jostled photographers out of position as the royal family was arriving at London's Liverpool Street Station, the photographers solemnly lined up, cameras at their sides. They doffed their hats as royalty passed, but took not a single picture. Next day Press Secretary Colville coldly explained: "The Queen's arrival was private. In such cases photographs are not allowed on the platform." Nevertheless, the royal family had apparently not cared for the way the photographers had been treated. Since then, the police have gone out of their way to be nice to them.

* In Nassau, where overeager police roughed up Photographer J. Pedrazzini of Paris Match and clubbed London Daily Sketch Photographer David Johnson while clearing a dock for the princess to disembark. The government promptly expressed regret to the cameramen.

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