The British Broadcasting Corporation’s coverage of Diana, Princess of Wales’s death was the longest session of live coverage in its history, reports Peta Thornycroft
When the telephone rang at 12.45am, Peter Knowles was very deeply asleep. Semi- comatose, he thought he was still on his week’s holiday in Newcastle. Only after he had opened his eyes and recognised the curtains, did Knowles’ brain click in. He was at home,in London, and the BBC was calling with worrying news.
One person was dead in a car accident and Diana was injured. That’s what Agence France Presse, the French wire service, had put out from Paris very early Sunday morning at the end of August when nothing happens in Britain anyway.
Knowles, editor of the BBC’s world television service, heaved himself out of bed and drove to work for what was going to be the longest, worst story of his life. It came out of the blue. He had heard the previous couple of weeks, newswise, had been the quietest anyone could remember, even for August.
When BBC world radio and television first put out the news of the accident, in a regular bulletin, Diana was still alive, but dying and trapped in the Mercedes Benz in that tunnel. Above ground, it was just after midnight Paris time; the streets were busy with traffic and tourists and summer.
Knowles said the first reports carried news that Diana was just injured. One caller rang the BBC to say she had walked away from the accident unhurt.
The news came through just after 1am that one of the dead was Dodi al-Fayed. Half an hour later BBC television suspended its regular programming and began the broadcasting marathon, with updates about Diana’s relationship with the press, details about Dodi and others.
Just over two hours later a BBC journalist travelling in Asia with British foreign secretary Robin Cook phoned in to let London know there was “very serious news to come.”
For Peter Knowles “very serious news” probably meant only one thing – that Diana was dead, and there was a routine to go through; a set of rules and procedures that would make it possible to tell the story according to the book and sustain the story for 19 hours.
“We have rehearsed these things many times, even for Diana’s death, so we knew exactly what to do and who to call. There is a huge book, about 100 pages at the BBC, the Royal Obits Guide,” Knowles said.
The most experienced anchor, Nik Gowing, had already been called in – just in case. Then there was the question of authorisation. If Diana was dead, someone had to give the go-ahead to say so on air; to tell the nation. So the deputy chief executive of BBC news had also been phoned and was on hand.
Across the city in the heart of London the late night news shift at the BBC’s World Service radio was going through the same routine.
Then the news came from the hospital that Diana had died. That went out on air – a voice-over from the BBC’s Paris correspondent.
She was dead, but for the BBC, there was still one step more -“strangely bound up in a formalised moment of broadcasting”, Knowles recalls. That last step was a statement from Buckingham Palace that would make it all true and official. Everything had been lined up in the hours beforehand – in case.
Nik Gowing was ready with the statement from Buckingham Palace, the authorisation had been given by the chief executive. The tape with the pre-recorded obituary was on stand-by. So too was the national anthem, to be played at the end of the statement.
“It was very quiet; a moving moment. I had a thought about it – a young mother’s death, someone you felt you knew,” Knowles recalled this week. “We were engaging the country in an act of mourning.”
At precisely 4.49am local time, Nik Gowing faced Britain and the world and began to read: “This is the BBC. Buckingham Palace regrets … ” and then immediately afterwards, the anthem: God save our gracious queen.