Memos from the Department of Administrative Affairs
Referenda have become more faashionable in recent years and civic planning is always being to out to 'public consultation', whatever that means. So it was that in the spirit of community engagement, several years ago we undertook a survey of readers to try and determine, amongst other things, what you like about Backtrack, what you don't, what you'd welcome more of or prefer less of, include... exclude... do differently. It turned out to be quite a reassuring exercise in that by and large, considering one factor against another and taking everything into account, a good level of reader satisfaction was apparent and most issues of the magazine pleased most of you most of the time - which might be as much as can ever reasonably be hoped for. So we continue to present a monthly magazine containing a variety of engaging articles on an eclectic range of subjects, well illustrated with colour and b/w photographs reproduced to a high standard, the whole product brought to you on good quality glossy art paper. One particular aspect which met with your approval was that the magazine's 64 pages, apart from covers and 'administrative' pages such as this, are all occupied by 'content'; you don't find a significant amount of space devoted to advertising. Some magazines do go in for commercial breaks within their pages: nothing wrong with that, of course, entirely their policy, and there are valid reasons for it. Advertising, even in the railway press, can be quite remunerative for a publisher if you set out to attract it and it can help towards offsetting the cost of creating the journal, even standing as a buffer between the existing price and a higher one - or maybe worse, a cost-cutting mission.

Backtrack's tacit policy from the beginning was to keep clear of the advertising world (though looking back I can't see that it actually says that!); in fact, what little we carry now is overdoing it compared with those early issues. During my time I've never had any desire to change that and, in case any of you are twitching with nascent disapproval, I'm still not minded to do so now. But it does leave us with this inescapable fact - nearly all Backtrack's income is derived from the sale of copies of it by subscription or over the counter. That's fine - as long as our costs remain generally steady, going up no more than modestly as all things invariably do. However, some production costs are completely beyond our control and a substantial increase in certain of them has made it necessary and unavoidable to increase the price of your monthly Backtrack to £4.75 from the September issue. Price increases are always imposed with reluctance and certainly not one as significant as this, but all magazines, whether mass circulation or speciality interest, are facing a similar challenge. I believe I'm right in deducing that most of you will not want us to concede more pages to advertising, reduce the number of pages and pictures, downgrade the quality of the paper or cut the fees to our valued contributors. All that being so, the proverbial bullet must be bitten; unfortunately, as that politician once said, there is no alternative.

On the other hand there has never been a better time to become a Backtrack subscriber, for we will be holding our rates at their existing level until 31st December. That's clearly an advantageous way of ensuring the regular arrival of your Backtrack and I might as well add here and now that it's also the best deal for us as we receive most of the subscription revenue without the deduction of trade discounts, which in turn helps us to keep producing the magazine to the highest possible standards. And don't forget that as a subscriber you enjoy a discount on our latest book One Man and his Camera as well as on future publications. It seems everyone's a photographer these days - just point a mobile phone at something and press a button. Arguably, though, it's hardly skilled photography of the sort practised by the generations whose work has graced these pages from the days when you needed a half-decent camera, a box of glass plates or later a roll of film, a darkroom full of chemicals and apparatus with which to develop the negatives, and above all an eye for the creation of a carefully composed picture (before they became called 'images').

During the 1950s colour photography became a more practical and affordable option, with the result that many enthusiasts took to it with a considerable degree of success. Amongst many distinguished practitioners the name of Trevor Owen stands out and in conjunction with Colour-Rail, custodian of his great collection, it has been a a delight to publish a tribute to his work in our recent book One Man and his Camera. Trevor's particular skill lay in taking a railway subject and combining it with setting, landscape, lighting conditions and human presence to create a photographic work of art. Few could match Trevor's ability to use the sharp light of a frosty morning or the high clouds of a summer day to set off an action shot, while he could recognise the lasting value of photographing a railwayman at work or a family on holiday or an industrial background to contrast with lush countryside. So add it to your bookshelf - go on, treat yourself, give it as a present or let it be known that you'd appreciate a copy: it's never too early to put down a marker for Christmas! Advance orders have kept my ever obliging assistant Samantha busy on the packing bench during the early summer but she'll be ready to leap into action again whenever called upon. You will not find a better photographic album this year!