Lord Black of Crossharbour

As you know, I am a fan of Conrad Black.



He is his own man and continues to do it His Way: a take on Sinatra's famous song.



Anyway he is now out of jail and I do not see him ever having to return to incarceration.



As many have noted, I too believe the experience has had some benefit for him - again though, not to say he deserved it- he most certainly did not. But it did bring him in contact with those of much lesser ability and he was able to use his teaching skills to enhance their own.



I could talk about the injustice of what befell Lord Black but it has all been said and indeed I covered much of that in an earlier Blog.



But what stands out for me is how Black has been able to keep his individuality - his sense of self - in such troubling times. A lesser person would have been beaten down.



At a time when too many XYers walk around with earrings and necklaces, their hair tied up in pony-tails and sporting pink shirts and spandex, (how can they not help but be 'conflicted') - Black stands out like the quintessential man - the one that Rudyard Kipling was referring to in his famous poem (and my favourite) - IF:

If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you.

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you but make allowance for their doubting too.

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating, and yet don't look too good nor talk to wise.


If you can dream and not make dreams your master, if you can think and not make thoughts your aim.

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same.

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken and stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings and risk it on one turn of pitch-and- toss,

And lose and start again at your beginnings and never breathe a word about your loss.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you, Except the Will which says to them 'Hold-on'.


If you can Talk with Crowds and keep your virtue or Walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you but none too much.

If you can fill the unforgiving minute with Sixty Seconds worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it -

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son*.

*Of note, Rudyard Kipling's son was killed in the Great War of 1914-1918.

In my books, Conrad Black is very much a Man.


As I see it...

'Galagher'