When I meet Emma, she’s been through a long week. The managing editor of Village, Sara Burke, was in New York and Emma was left at the helm of the magazine for the second time.
I have to say, I’m jealous. Emma is a year younger than me, has no formal journalistic training and yet is multi-tasking at a high level in a national publication. She’s writing, sub-editing and laying out pages while I’m wading through a Master’s and scrambling for bits of freelance work. What does she have that I don’t?
Arguably, she has subconscious experience on her side by spending a childhood amongst unfinished magazine pages and spiked stories. She is the eldest daughter of Vincent Browne, former editor of the Sunday Tribune and Magill and a vocal thorn in the side of complacent politicians since the late 1970s.
His latest venture is Village, and Emma has been drafted into the new family business. Was she worried that she’d be seen as ‘Daddy’s girl?’ “I was, I was very worried. Firstly, that I wouldn’t be able to write at all, that I’d be useless and they’d have to hide me in the corner or something. And secondly, that people would be funny to me, and that the other journalists would view me with suspicion. It just hasn’t happened like that because we’re all friends and they see that I don’t get different treatment.”
The Thursday before we met she and design/picture editor Valerie Vetter worked until 3am piecing the paper together. Village has no dedicated sub-editors, so all the journalists generally do the subbing work, but on this occasion all the others had prior engagements. On top of working days like these, she’s also studying to be a barrister. It is a workload that surely must satisfy even the high standards of her father, or so you’d think.
“He definitely likes to work more than me — he thinks I’m a wimp. If you work as hard as he does, you’re successful, you’ll get the jobs he has. I don’t know, though. I think you can have a normal life and be a journalist too.”
Although Vincent is now one of the best-known columnists and journalists in the country, it wasn’t something Emma was hugely aware of growing up.
“I don’t think it was until he got the radio show that he became a bit more well-known, and people would ask about him if they knew you were related and that. Before that no, I mean… he was only editor of the Sunday Tribune.”
However she tries to play it down, her father’s knowledge of the industry has undeniably been helpful.
“We would have talked about it sometimes, you know? I suppose I wouldn’t have gone into it if my dad hadn’t done it, because you see it and then you like it. I went in knowing what he thinks makes a good journalist, so I probably had the advantage in that respect. Some people are still figuring it out, I think. It’s just an advantage, but I wouldn’t want to rely on it. I suppose if they know him it’s better just to say who you are. I have quite funny conversations with people sometimes, often I phone people to ask about a story and they’re like ‘Oh my God, you’re Vincent’s daughter, Aaaaagh!’”
Emma’s calm, quiet manner shows no hint of her father’s intimidating media persona. Stories abound of Vincent’s temper putting the fear of God into reporters young and old, and politicians of all shades, but in reality, he’s a teddy bear.
“He’s actually quite shy,” says Emma. “He is, I don’t know why he was a journalist! Professionally, he can be very confident, but he’s quite shy in person.”