John Hayes, FT sub-editor, 1956-2024

John Hayes, a stalwart of the Financial Times’ sub-editing desk, has died at the age of 68 after a short battle with cancer.

Hayes cut his journalistic teeth on the Dundee Courier, before honing his editing skills at Scotland’s Sunday Post, which in its heyday had the highest per capita national readership in the world. He then moved to local papers in Ealing and Bristol before joining the national press. He spent many years at the heart of the Daily Telegraph’s subs’ desk, regaling fellow journalists with his legendary tales and earning the nickname “Gabby”.

He also spent time working on newspapers in Australia and Thailand. At the Bangkok Post, he was teasingly called the “Butcher of Bangkok” for slicing writers’ lengthy prose. He was known for driving an open-top classic car around the Thai capital and even found time for a sideline in acting — with a small role in a Thai movie.

After returning to the UK, he joined the Financial Times, where he spent his last two decades.

A proud Devonian who hailed from Plymouth, his love of travelling was spurred by early years spent on the island of Vanuatu, where his father was based in the army (in his typical turn of phrase, he would say his old man was “chief of the colonial fuzz”).

Generous with his time, Hayes would take young sub-editors under his wing, sharing his skills in finessing copy and composing flawless headlines. He was still performing the role until his last days on the paper just a few weeks ago. 

“He would always give gentle advice on how to improve my edits — and always with such grace,” recalled one colleague. “He would advise me on the errors of my ways in both grammar and broader life.”

A senior FT editor said that he was a consummate professional who had “saved me many, many times in spotting errors and fixing errant copy. A model editor.” Another colleague added: “John was a proper old-school sub who could spot an error a mile off, and always with a smile and a laugh.”

Hayes was a popular FT character, modest, wry and principled. He was passionate about politics, his family and his dog: he would often bring into the office balls his hound had found to proffer to fellow dog-owners.

He always spoke about his wife Pat and children George and Clara with great pride and love. Once asked what the secret to a happy marriage was, he said: “Marry someone generous-hearted.”

Hayes was excellent company, with biting yet self-deprecating wit, who was willing to tell a good story against himself. He also had wicked nicknames for many colleagues. But underlying that acerbic tongue was a quiet sentimentality and great kindness.

A passionate Arsenal football fan, he felt obliged to show faux contempt for Spurs, the arch-enemy. When driving through the Tottenham area, he and his son would hold their breath for as long as possible to minimise the chances of inhaling, as he put it, the “sulphurous fumes of  N17”.

Hayes was a cycling evangelist, who always pedalled into the office and spent his spare time restoring old bicycles. He even loved company when he was on his bike: he would insist on cycling home with others going in the same direction and despite the speed he could reach on his classic racer, he would keep to a slow pace with his travelling companion.

He was also a great walker who whiled away many an hour striding across his beloved Hampstead Heath. At the office, one of his many catchphrases was “walkies”, a break-time suggestion to colleagues to leave their desk, join him on a stroll and put the world to rights.