Andrew Todd, whose numerous senior jobs included Editor of Television News, has died at the age of 85.

This obituary appeared in The Times, on November 22, 2004

Fine soldier and journalist whose skills of command saw the BBC's news
services through changing times

WHEN Andrew Todd became Editor of BBC Television News in 1976 he brought
to the post the skills of command he had acquired in the Seaforth
Highlanders on the road from El Alamein to the Rhine and his experience
of newspaper, radio, and television journalism dating back to the 1930s.
This powerful mix restored morale, efficiency and a proper regard for the
English language. He carried out a similar rescue as Controller, BBC
Scotland, in the closing months of his career.

Andrew Slidders Todd was born in Dundee in 1919. His father was a docker,
one of the “harbour porters” who had special rights to unload jute for
Dundee’s now forgotten jute mills. Todd was judged to be university
material, but there were six young mouths to feed and another breadwinner
was needed. He left school at 15, joined DC Thomson as a trainee, and

quickly graduated to the news desk of the local Evening Telegraph.

Called up on the outbreak of war, he he was selected for officer training
and passed out from the Aldershot OCTU with, among others, Laurens van
der Post. He chose the Seaforths and was posted to the reconstituted 2nd
Battalion, the original formation having been captured at St Valéry in
June 1940. His first billet was in the Glenmorangie distillery, an
experience he looked back on with delight. When the battalion sailed for
Egypt, Todd kept his journalistic skills honed by editing the ship’s
newspaper on the eight-week voyage round the Cape. Alamein was his
baptism of fire. From there to the Rhine via Libya, Tunisia, Sicily and
France he was almost constantly in action.

His first mention in dispatches was for outstanding courage and tactical
skill in Tunisia at the battle for a feature known as Roumana Ridge. Of
the 20 Seaforth officers who went into the attack, he was one of only six
who were not killed or wounded.

Once Tunisia and Sicily were cleared, the battalion sailed home to
prepare for the Normandy invasion. The Highland Division made a
triumphant re-entry into St Valéry. Todd was wounded by shrapnel en
route, and was then mentioned in dispatches for a second time, for his
daring and initiative in the capture of the Siegfried Line strongpoint of
Grapenthal.

Later, on the Rhine he was standing in the river directing his company
into assault craft when a shell landed alongside and he was severely
wounded. The war was over by the time he returned to duty, when for a
period he was in command of his battalion.

In the chaos of postwar Germany the Seaforths were in charge of the huge
refugee camp at Seedorf. Todd was president of the court sitting in
judgment on the future of a group of Volksdeutsch, the hereditary German
community on the Volga who were desperate not to return to the Soviet
Union. Humanity overrode political considerations: “I have to confess
that I tried to make my judgments suit their individual wishes,
irrespective of papers or directions,” he said.

Another experience he never forgot was a day spent in the public gallery
at Nuremberg, looking down at the surviving leaders of the Third Reich in
the dock — Goering, Hess, Ribbentrop et al. “I sat enthralled the entire
day, the translation headphones stuck to my ears, listening to and
watching Kaltenbrunner being slowly ground down by the prosecutors. It
was far removed from the summary justice of the battlefield.”

After demobilisation Todd joined the BBC and the Bush House newsroom. His
marriage, soon after, to Marjorie Young was a very happy one, and he was
all the more relieved when his contract was confirmed in 1949. By 1954 he
had risen to chief sub-editor, and he moved to Television News, at that
time a troubled adolescent. Only recently had control been wrested from
the Television Service by News Division, after a bitter wrangle described
by one participant — Grace Wyndham Goldie — as “like a battle between a
school of whales and a herd of elephants”.

In the early days the newsreader was not even seen, lest his facial
expression tainted the authenticity of the news. The futility of this
soon led to the search for acceptable faces, and Robert Dougall, Richard
Baker and Kenneth Kendall ushered in a new style of presentation. Todd
was to play his part in all the major subsequent editorial, technical,
and managerial moves as the developing department flexed its muscles:
independence from radio control, the invention of cable film — the first
means of receiving moving pictures from across the Atlantic — and the
beginnings of electronic recording and its rivalry with film.

In 1965, by now home film manager, he was appointed deputy editor. He
organised the move of the TV news operation from Alexandra Palace to the
BBC TV Centre at White City. The next year he was appointed managing
editor and a year later he was called to Broadcasting House to be
managing editor of both radio and television news. In that capacity, as
he put it, he hacked away at the remaining shackles linking the two, in
particular rewriting budgets to give TV news its own designated foreign
and home correspondents. He was also heavily involved in the arrangements
for the televised broadcasting of Parliament.

Other tasks included the renegotiation in Moscow of the BBC’s contract
with Tass, and extracting from the South African authorities increased
accreditation for BBC correspondents, against a background of deep
suspicion in Pretoria. He found the Russians far easier to deal with.

In 1976, at no notice, Todd was appointed Editor. He immediately
simplified the studio set and the style of presentation, instituted a
blitz on slang and careless journalese, and ensured that meetings started
on time and ended with clear decisions. His staff quickly realised that
Major Todd was in command — and they approved. One early move was to
appoint Angela Rippon as a newsreader; he also allowed her high-kicking
appearance in the Morecambe and Wise Show.

A year later he was promoted to be deputy director of news and current
affairs for all domestic broadcasting, believing this to be his last
posting, for after more than 30 years with the BBC retirement was near —
but there was one more rescue job to be done. The Controller of BBC
Scotland, Alistair Hetherington, former editor of The Guardian, had been
unable to come to terms with the editorial and managerial structure of
the Corporation, and Ian Trethowan, the Director-General, asked Todd to
replace him.

He arrived, “the man from London”, to find a disconcerted Scottish
Broadcasting Council, an uneasy staff, and a tense relationship building
up with the political parties as the 1979 general election drew nearer.
But his Scottish credentials were as rock-solid as his editorial
experience and managerial authority, and after six months he was able to
hand over a stable and relaxed organisation to his successor.

Full retirement was yet further delayed when Todd joined the BBC team
invited to write a report on the future of broadcasting in Rhodesia,
about to become Zimbabwe, for the incoming Prime Minister, Robert Mugabe.
The report was warmly welcomed at the time, but its recommendations were
later to be sadly diluted.

Todd at last entered his delayed retirement with zest. He travelled,
cultivated family and friends, was captain of his golf club and wrote its
history, and returned to his painting, mostly landscapes in oils. Fifty
years after the event, he wrote the official history of his battalion. He
was a published poet — his war poetry was as evocative as the verses he
wrote in 1995 on the death of his wife were moving. He is survived by
their two sons.

Andrew Slidders Todd, journalist and soldier, was born in Dundee on
January 28, 1919. He died on November 13, 2004, aged 85.