NOT many of us sit in a cinema and drop our popcorn when the ads play BEFORE the main movie starts.
But that’s precisely what happened to me when, around the Millennium, Trevor Kavanagh starred in a promo for The Sun, shown at cinemas nationwide.
I had been aware that my boss had been out of the office for a day doing “a bit of filming” for a new commercial for the newspaper.
Little did I know the ad would feature him. And only him.
The voiceover in the advert rightly described him as the most influential man in Britain. And to this day I consider that an accurate reflection.
There are many tributes to be paid to Trevor as he surrenders his crown as the GOAT of political journalists.
But for me, his unique professional value has been this — he has been a rock of wisdom and continuity for the The Sun, its readers and, indeed, to the British political community.
Love him or be terrified by him — and there have been many on both sides of this divide — he’s been an institution.
But never an institution that gathers dust and lives off its past glories.
With every Parliament, every new government and every general election, Trevor has gained more experience. More knowledge. More judgment.
And that’s the essence of his brilliance.
Journalism is partly about reporting what’s happened.
But for political editors and commentators, the real test is the ability to predict the future.
In a world where few want to take a risk, Trevor has had a sixth sense which has allowed him to make huge predictions which have turned out to be correct.
His crystal ball has been crystal clear.
And it has been down to a blend of accumulated experience and judgment — coupled with a disarmingly direct way of asking people what they will do next.
Trevor was once described by a colleague as resembling a university professor. And he does to this day.
People at all levels in politics have divulged information to him over his lunch table.
Yet he has possessed a cold brutality in his writing.
Woe-betide the Cabinet minister or leader who stepped out of line in Trevor’s view.
This is the job. Readers expect The Sun to be absolutely blunt in its assessment of the state of the world — and of those who held power over them.
No one has cared more about the readers’ lives than he.
He has been driven by the belief that his role has been to ensure our politicians and the institutions that govern us make life better, not worse.
Few in journalism have no ego. But that rare quality has been an essential part of his makeup.
It is also worth pointing out that a huge part of Trevor’s career as The Sun’s Political Editor has been conducted during the days before the professionalisation of media management.
There were no sophisticated public relations advisers in politics for much of his time in the hotseat.
Journalists had to wheedle out their stories and apply judgment — often putting together pieces of a jigsaw to try to read the tea leaves.
None had the instinct and confidence to “call it” quite as confidently as Trevor.
Every former Sun Editor has gone to bed quietly praying that Trevor’s front page scoop will turn out to be on the money — putting their faith in his judgment.
No wonder, then, that Trevor Kavanagh was hailed Journalist Of The Year and enjoyed several Scoop Of The Year awards during his 41 sensational years immersed in British political life.
But the world rarely saw another side of Trevor, which many MPs have experienced through the decades.
He has been a fantastic listener and joy to be around.
A genuinely compassionate man with a big heart — which, thanks to the skills of the NHS, has recently been upgraded.
I have personally witnessed some of the most senior politicians quietly take him aside and ask “what’s in the PM’s mind on this?”
But more importantly, I have seen him at his most passionate in defence of the readers of this newspaper.
Standing up for their needs and interests in the face of politicians from all sides, whose priorities were not the same.
For a man with such a serious role in British life, there will always be an ironic sense of humour with Trevor, even in his well-earned retirement.
Perhaps the accolade he most cheekily cherishes is once being named by left-wing bible The Guardian as the ninth most powerful man in Britain . . .
