James Morgan, World Service Economics Correspondent for a quarter of a century, died on Wednesday 27 June at the early age of 63.  Barnaby Mason has written this tribute:

The news of James Morgan's death came as a shock to his former colleagues and many friends, even to those who knew of the ordeal he had endured from cancer over the past six months.

James inspired respect and affection across Bush House and beyond. His reports were incisive and succinct, getting to the heart of an issue and setting out complex economics with exemplary clarity. His expertise never got in the way of his explanations; he saw the significance of economics and business stories long before globalisation brought them to the top of the BBC’s news agenda. In fact, he made a significant contribution to putting them there.

James was also -- as his former Editor, Bob Jobbins, said -- an extremely elegant and witty writer. On radio, you could hear the humour in his voice. He was good at off-beat pieces too: I remember one for the Christmas stockpot comparing the value of gold, frankincense and myrrh now and at the birth of Christ.

As for the wit, it was on display every morning at editorial meetings; in Bob’s words, you could count on James to puncture somebody’s self-importance and cut through the rubbish to give the essence of the story.

In the Correspondents’ Unit he enlivened many tedious days. “He was so funny,” one of his colleagues said. He was quick-witted as well as witty. Another colleague tells the story of seeking to please him by saying that a Morgan despatch had enabled him “almost” to understand the United States balance of payments. James responded that the colleague had been the World Service’s “ninth best Home Affairs correspondent ever”.

James was knowledgeable about a great many things beyond economics. And he insisted on high standards, notably in the use of language. He was as good as a dictionary on the exact meaning of words. He spoke good French and German, and spent a few months as Central Europe Correspondent in the mid-1980s -- though he disliked the Viennese.

He could be sardonic, even barbed, but James was interested in a wide range of people, with an enviable memory for names and faces. The affection his colleagues felt for him was obvious at his retirement party only three years ago. Large numbers came and sang a noisy “Goodbyeee” -- little imagining that a much sadder farewell was so near.

James married relatively late, but his delight in his marriage was all the more marked. He took enormous pride in the singing of his wife, Laura, helping to organise her concerts, and in the achievements of his son Ben, now in his final year at Oxford. All his BBC friends, I’m sure, will feel the greatest sympathy for them.

Barnaby Mason, Diplomatic Correspondent, World Service.

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