Odile Leroux

I recall one incident from the evening slot in rue Reaumur, when the econ late staffer filed his Bourse closer and, as I passed it through to the operators, I caught sight of the line “Elf-Aquitaine fell sharply in late trading on rumours that President Bongo had been toppled in a coup”. Hang on, I said naively, let’s try and confirm this or knock it down before filing it to the world. My numerate colleague was scornful. “No need, just a market movement, goodnight.”

Odile understood my concern. “Laisse-moi faire,” she said, lighting yet another Gitane and pulling out her address book. Within a minute or so she was carolling: “Bonsoir Monsieur le President, have you heard this ridiculous rumour?” On confirming that it was indeed ridiculous, she instantly turned practical. “M. le President, we must immediately put out a story on what you did today.” And so it was that a few minutes later I was filing a story which said, essentially, that Bongo had spent a lazy day visiting his ancestral village, meeting old mates and addressing local officials. Boring, below even the usual sub-regional threshold, but hell, it shot down the rumour. I phoned the econ editor at home and offered to file it to market wires and was politely rebuffed.

RIP Odile. ■