The most expensive story ever told

It was, for a late-breaking Saturday news story, a remarkable turn-around: 41 instant pages in the Sunday Mirror, 57 in the Sunday Express and an extraordinary 74, including a glossy colour magazine, in The Mail on Sunday. The Queen Mother's death, announced at 5.45pm, could barely have come at a worse time for Sunday papers preparing to send their first editions for printing - not least the People, finally able to splash on a footballer's indiscretions with a lapdancer. So, here's to professionals such as Sir Roy Strong, whose name appeared above a few thousand words for both The Sunday Times and The Sunday Telegraph; and well done Ingrid Seward, who figured not only in The Mirror and the People, but also the Sunday Express.

The instant coverage was, of course, not instant at all, but the result of the most extensive forward planning in modern journalistic history. Every daily and Sunday national, bar the Morning Star, had planned its Queen Mother send-off for years, and for some broadsheets for two or three decades. According to Don Berry, who spent 15 years overseeing The Daily Telegraph's and then the Evening Standard's coverage until his retirement last month, the extensive rewriting over the years "must make these supplements some of the most expensive ever produced". So was it all worth the effort?

Early indications in the trade are that circulations received a useful boost for a quiet Bank Holiday weekend, but the years of tinkering came at a heavy financial cost. "This must be one of those unusual moments in the history of the British press when it goes all altruistic," says Andrew Roberts, the historian whose commissions this week have appeared in The Sunday Telegraph, The Daily Mail and Daily Express. "I wouldn't have thought the increase in sales would justify the money spent: they've used all the top historians, from Kenneth Rose to Philip Ziegler, rather than the 30p-a-word types. But it's not like 11 September or Princess Di's death, when people have a ravenous appetite for it."

At The Times, for instance, Monday's obituary was the result of "20 or 30 years of tinkering", according to Ian Brunskill, the obituaries editor. "There were two main hands in the ink - one writing about 20 years ago, which involved overhauling what was there and turning it into a much better piece, and someone else, more recently, taking in the various revisions. It must be the single most worked-on obit in history. " Money was saved by conducting most revisions in- house, although the subject's lack of activity lately meant that nothing major was changed for some time. "I'm sure the other papers were as prepared as we were," Ian Brunskill says. "It's the one you really could see coming."

At The Daily Telegraph, this week's extensive coverage results from a nightmare the then editor, Max Hastings, suffered in 1986. "In his dream, the Queen Mother had died and there was nothing prepared," explains Don Berry, then assistant editor. "He woke up in a cold sweat, and I was despatched to write the first of many obits.

"There was a routine updating whenever she had a cold, or when new pictures came through," Berry says. Then, six years ago, Berry was asked to perform the same task at the Evening Standard, which eventually resulted in last night's pre-printed supplement. "One of the hazards was that contributors died before the Queen Mother did," Berry recalls. One of his pieces was by John Grigg, who died last December. The BBC's film obit on Saturday night faced a similar problem, with the late Princess Margaret among contributors.

SO are editors relieved that the years of tinkering are finally over? "I wouldn't express it as relief, but as it's always been there niggling at the back of your mind, you're pleased to get it out of the way," says Andrew McKie, obituaries editor of The Daily Telegraph. "Then you start worrying about the Pope, Ronald Reagan, or other members of the Royal Family."

McKie made his final changes as late as 7pm on Sunday, but denies that the final obit was simply a decades-old piece that had been knocked about. "It's not the same piece worked on since 1975, as if it's a stone that gets covered in more and more barnacles. You have to rework obits according to changes in circumstances." He cites the Times's obit of economist Friedrich Hayek, which "had to be changed completely not because there was anything factually wrong, but because it was written at a time when he was highly out of favour. By the time he died he was a guru of the new Right."

Andrew Roberts, now commentating for CNN, believes that the papers "have generally got it right - which doesn't come as a surprise seeing how long they've had to prepare". But he is "saddened" by the Guardian letters this week pointing out her faults. "When the body's not yet cold, to have letters showing such a fantastic lack of respect is saddening but not surprising," Roberts says. "They obviously choose the letters that represent the paper's voice." Seumas Milne, Guardian comment editor, insists that the letters printed were representative of the mailbag.

Deputy editor Georgina Henry explains that the paper chose to take a less fawning view of the event. "There are no constitutional implications of her death, and The Guardian has a well-known position on the Royal Family which is shared by many of our readers," Henry says. "We therefore had no interest in producing the kind of enormous special supplements seen elsewhere." The paper prepared four pages of an obituary and pictures, and commissioned Christopher Hitchens to provide "the alternative view".

Still, elsewhere in Fleet Street, those who can deliver the more respectful appreciations remain in great demand. Ingrid Seward, editor-in-chief of Majesty magazine since 1983, was last night "exhausted - and it hasn't even begun yet". Seward confesses that she wrote most of this weekend's pieces 12 to 18 months ago (not the case for her exemplary article in last night's Standard, though). She is still contracted to cover the funeral for Canadian TV, has just appeared on Sky, and is about to edit Majesty's commemorative issue, which has been planned for 15 years. "Nearly everything has been written, but they want more," she says. "Still, you might as well work when you can."