Ivor Davis, who has died aged 87, started his journalism career in sports and went on to become an ace Hollywood reporter and best-selling author; he retained a love of football and boxing, while writing about The Beatles and Charles Manson; here, his friend of 65 years – Norman Giller – looks back on a truly extraordinary life…
NORMAN GILLER writes…
A giant oak of the international newspaper world fell this week with the passing of my dearest old colleague Ivor Davis, a lifelong friend and one of the finest journalists ever to walk this mortal coil.
Gideon, his son, conveyed the news of his Dad’s passing in his adopted home in California, and I have choked back my tears to get this tribute up online.
For those who do not know of his exploits, I promise a true legend has left us, the third in as many weeks, following on from ex-Expressmen John Roberts and James Mossop.
Ivor and I had been pals since working together on the Stratford Express in the foothills of our journalistic careers back in the 1950s, and I was chief football reporter on the Daily Express when he was ’our man’ on the west coast, building a huge international reputation with Hollywood scoops and celebrity features.
He and his (now sadly late) wife, Sally Ogle, were legendary in the United States for their long-running radio show in which they interviewed celebrities and broke dozens of exclusive stories.
Passing on at the age of 87, Ivor leaves behind an unmatchable canon of work, for newspapers, Hollywood and the book publishing world.
There will be dozens of old sportswriters out there who will smile and nod in agreement when I state that Ivor has been one of the most successful newspapermen ever to leave these shores to pitch his tent in the U.S.
What is an obituary to Ivor doing here on this SJA website? Well, for a start, he was an exceptional young sports reporter, and dozens of Fleet Street sports writers visiting the West Coast were grateful over the years for the Davis hospitality and news tip-offs.
He was also an outstanding amateur footballer, winning gold medals with England in the Maccabiah Games as a dapper, ball-playing left winger. Proudly Jewish, he later also represented the U.S. in the worldwide Jewish Games.
Ivor had a deep knowledge of all sports and covered many of Muhammad Ali’s fights, getting so close to ’The Greatest’ that he even lived with him for a while, and was able to feed quotes and inside information to the travelling British contingent of boxing writers.
He was 15 years an Express staffman and then 13 years on The Times. I would say his career was pretty close to untouchable.
For any young journalist with the spirit of adventure, let me tell you about Ivor, who went from the East End of London to the West Coast of America to establish himself as a media master.
Come with me back to the mid-1950s. I joined the Stratford Express (at the heart of where the 2012 Olympics were staged) as replacement for Ivor, whose sportswriting apprenticeship had been interrupted by his National Service. He wanted to experience Army life in one of our then many overseas territories, but because he was an expert in Pitman’s shorthand, found himself spending most of his two years in Blackfriars, working as a PA to an officer called Roger Bannister, yes, of four-minute mile fame.
When he finished his two years serving Queen and Country, Ivor returned to Stratford to inform editor John Jenkins that he was quitting journalism to become a PR at Butlins.
Jenkins, later a powerhouse at the Daily and Sunday Express and night editor at the Daily Telegraph, had printing ink pumping through his veins, and he told Ivor in my hearing: “You must be crackers. You are one of the finest young reporters I have ever come across. You can be the best there is. How can you sell your soul to bloody Butlins?”
Ivor’s reply has stayed etched in my memory: “It’s just to get enough money together to get me to America. I want to become a Hollywood reporter.”
Beatlemania, Manson, and mastering magazine journalism
Fast forward 50 years, and Ivor Davis, ace Hollywood reporter, was doing a whistle-stop tour of the U.S. promoting his astonishing updated book on the Charles Manson murders.
Called ’Five to Die,’ it was so brilliantly researched and written by him and his Belfast-born wife Sally back in 1970 that the prosecutor used it to help with the evidence that convicted drug-crazed killer Manson, who swore that he would kill Davis.
Yes, Ivor had lived up to the John Jenkins billing. He was the reporter who could open virtually any door to a Hollywood celebrity, and he chased down a lorry load of scoops in his roles as West Coast staffman for first the Daily Express and then The Times.
It was David English, then Express foreign editor before building his legend at the Mail, who spotted Ivor’s talent after he had travelled coast to coast across the States as a freelance.
A cruise liner once broke down two miles off the coast of California. Ivor hired a motor launch, boarded the cruise ship and interviewed virtually every English-speaking passenger on board and sent individual stories to each of their local papers. Enterprising or what?
Ivor made his name during the 1964 Beatles tour of America, ghosting a George Harrison column and helping to spread Beatlemania. He has remained in contact with Sir Paul McCartney and quotes him in his chilling Manson story.
He wrote a best-selling book about his adventures with the ’Fab Four’ called ’On Tour with the Beatles’ and travelled the world promoting it and giving lectures on his life with the most famous group in music history.
Right up until his departure, he was freelancing for dozens of magazines, and pumped scores of stories into the internet. His partnership with the beautiful Sally Ogle Davis, a supremely gifted writer, was one of the most prolific in American journalism, even rivalling the output of icon couple Harold Evans and Tina Brown.
He built a wonderful life in America, and our deepest sympathy goes out to his much-loved companion Louise, son Gideon, daughter Rebecca and grandchildren.
What a life, my life (a little joke that Ivor would have enjoyed).
Rest easy, master. You were the East End kid who conquered the world. Take Ivor’s words for it.
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