Jack Hartzman

Jack Hartzman was the finest journalist I have known. I felt he was in a different league from the rest of us. His ability to analyse fast-emerging facts was remarkable, and he could beautifully write about them. I loved listening to Jack. His wry wit was sharp and very funny. Often it was directed at pompous authority, big and small. His criticism could be caustic, but it was not deliberately unkind, and it was invariably merited. I admired his intellectual integrity. He was my unofficial mentor when I first joined Reuters. We often travelled together on the Northern Line to our homes after  shifts. He gave me advice about journalism, and educated me about North American culture. I didn’t see him for many years after I left Reuters and later went to work at the BBC. There, I became a colleague and good friend of Vickie Barrett. She subsequently joined Reuters, where she met Jack. It was a delight, and something of a surprise, to learn these two unique people with different backgrounds had become a couple. I was glad to be invited to their wedding lunch, and to see them from time to time at Belsize Park. It is very, very sad that Jack has gone. His absence makes the world a diminished place for me, as I know it will for many others. ■