Man in the news Clarence Mitchell, the spokesman for Kate and Gerry McCann, the parents of missing Madeleine, was one of the brightest of the hundreds of eager-beaver young journalists I launched on the world in my 17 years as editor of the Times group.

Yet his future hung in the balance when I interviewed him and we had words about the use of the "old fashioned" name Clarence for by-line purposes.

Clarence, who lived with his parents in a house adjoining the Northern Line between Brent Cross and Golders Green, turned up for the interview favourably suited and booted, a pleasant looking chap with, from memory, fair hair that seemed to stand upright.

I don't think he was prepared for my interviewing technique but he proved more than capable of handling it.

Clarence was around the age of 20 and working in a building society at Hendon Central. I asked him how much he earned and, when he replied, I said: "Forget journalism ... I can't offer you anywhere near that".

He persisted that he wanted to be a journalist and I asked about his building society prospects.When he said that he would beome a branch manager at age 25, I again pointed to the exit and told him not to be daft.

I said that I was looking for fire engine chasers who turned up for work wearing clothes suitable for meeting Margaret Thatcher, the MP for Finchley or eventually the Prime Minister, to the lowest paid worker on a picket line.

In those days aspiring journalists either told you that they were good at English, that they did not want a 9-5 job or that they enjoyed meeting people.

My standard answers were that journalism was, by and large,a cryptic form of English and not composition and that if it wasn't 9-5, in my book there was the prospect of working 24 hours a day seven days a week.

If you want to meet people, I'd tell the fellows, go and work as a lavbatory attendant in Leicester Square; I told the girls to become airline hostesses on jumbo jets.

Anyway I couldn't shake Clarence off his projected course and eventually we started talking about him starting on the paper. "I'll make you a star", I promised ... but I said that to everyone.

Finally, we came to his name. "Bit old fashioned in this day and age", I ventured. "Clarry Mitchell is much snappier and modern".

Clarence bristled. "I like the name", he said. "My parents gave it to me, they like it. I won't change it".

We argued the toss a bit, but I eventually conceded. Clarence took to the life like a fish to water and distinguished himself as a news reporter with many front page leads, including a major incident story at the old Handley Page works at Cricklewood.

The last time I saw him was in a Press box at Sheffield. "Hi Clarry", I said. He still wasn't amused.

One other interview stays in my memory. The girl's name was Betty McBride - we're still good friends - and I couldn't shake her away from her dream, not even with jumbo jet travel.

Finally, in exasperation, I asked what she would do if I rejected her. She said she would carry on working for her father. "How much does that pay?" I asked. £25", she said, quids above a trainee's wage at the time.

"Get your father on the phone", I demanded. When I spoke to Mr McBride I said:"I've got your daughter here wanting to be a journalist and she tells me that you are over-paying her at £25 - I'll put her on and please tell her that you agree that she must forget the idea of journalism".

Mr McBride said: "I've tried, Mr Signy, I've really tried, and I can't shake her. You'll shatter her if you don't take her and she'll come back looking for a pay rise. Please take her".

I did. Betty moved on to work for Esther Rantzen on TV. Another star was born.

PS Nice guy that I am, I had a Sir Alan Sugar attitude to those who erred. One went on to become a successful,author and Sports Writer of the Year. I told him I'd make him a star ... I didn't expect to have to sack him to prove it.