Small Bamboo (26 page)

My first day of work was 24 May 2004. Ilka, Jess and I were introduced to the news director, John Pearson, and our other colleagues, and shown around the station. To me, it looked bizarre, with ugly carpet covering not just the entire station floor but also the walls. Anyone who’s been to 2SM would remember the carpet. The news director asked which one of us wanted to start off with the overnight shift and I put my hand up. I figured I might as well get the worst shifts over and done with. There was no mucking around. I was thrown into it the next day.

The overnight shift is an extremely lonely one. I was in the newsroom on my own. The program’s announcer was in the station but he was down the other end of the building. I would write and read the hourly news bulletins from 10.30 p.m. to 5 a.m. It was gruelling but also the perfect starting point. If you made a mistake, the only people who heard it were the handful of listeners tuned into 2SM in the middle of the night. I sure made some pearlers when I started. I called Wagga Wagga ‘
Wag
-ga,
Wag
-ga’. I struggled with names such as Sri Lankan cricketer Muttiah Muralitharan. Thankfully, though, it wasn’t just me. One colleague said ‘the cockless four’ instead of ‘the coxless four’. But we would just laugh at ourselves and take the piss out of each other; it was all part of the learning experience.

I spent about a month doing those overnight shifts before entering the arena of daytime news. My tasks during the day shifts varied, from reporting and reading the news during the drive program to breakfast editor and newsreader. I enjoyed being on the road. I got to meet other journalists and reporters I admired, such as Mark Burrows and Peter Harvey. I also met some celebrities and sport stars too. The experience that often stands out from this time occurred at the Lilyfield home of former boxing champion Jeff Fenech—I remember it because I nearly missed the whole story!

Fenech’s home had been the target of a drive-by shooting so it was massive news. I jumped in my car and raced to the scene, but it took me a while to find my way as I had only been in Sydney for about a month. After a couple of wrong turns, I finally arrived to find at least half a dozen journos and cameramen already there.

‘Bugger, I’m too late!’ I thought. A police press conference had just wrapped up.

I tried to find a police officer to see if I could get any information but they were all busy. There was no one I could interview, no one to tell me what was going on. I stood around, flustered and frustrated. I had to file a report for the next news bulletin but had no new information. Then one of the journalists, an older gentleman, broke from the pack and walked towards to me. It was Channel Ten’s veteran crime reporter Harry Potter.

Harry introduced himself and shook my hand. We made a bit of small talk then, to my surprise, he started filling me in on what had happened at the scene so far.

‘So, Tracy, police reckon there were at least six shots into the house,’ Harry said. ‘Jeff ’s inside with detectives now. We’re all hanging around hoping he might come out and say something. Don’t worry. You haven’t missed much.’

I was amazed at how generous he was, helping out a newbie like me. I thanked him profusely but Harry just smiled kindly. ‘Come and meet some of the others.’

I never forgot that moment, that sense of being included and respected. I will always be grateful to Harry, and the many others who helped me in those early days.

We waited around for a while longer—that’s another thing I learnt that day, patience!—and were rewarded when Jeff Fenech walked out of his home to make a statement. We all pounced. Sure, I was fumbling with my microphone and the cord was all tangled up, but I was right there, in the moment, crowded around Fenech with the other journos and cameramen while questions were thrown: How are you feeling, Jeff? Who do you think did this? Why would someone target your home?

To a novice reporter like me, Fenech was gold. His replies were clear and perfect for sound bites.

‘I don’t fear for my life, I fear for my wife and children,’ he said. ‘I’m certainly not going to stay there. I don’t want my kids to see holes in their bedroom.’

‘Do you know who may have done this?’ one of the journalists asked.

‘I’ve no idea who did it. I just hope they can wake up to themselves. It’s a crazy thing to do, they’ll end up in jail doing this and they should just learn to appreciate their family and their life outside. Thanks, guys,’ Fenech added as he finished the interview. Shortly after, he and his wife left in their car with a police escort and it was all over.

That rush of excitement lasted just a few minutes, but I was hooked. My heart was racing, the adrenalin was pumping and I was on a massive high. When the cameras and microphones are on, nothing else matters. The rest of the world becomes silent and you’re focused on that one person who is speaking. It’s exhilarating. I ran back to my car, filed a report and sent a grab of Fenech down the phone line. That was one of my first on-road reports and it was a hit.

That first year is quite a blur now. I remember just throwing myself into anything that was asked of me at work. My job kept me busy and I loved it. But living in Sydney was a struggle. I was twenty years old, terribly homesick and ready to quit after just a couple of months. I remember trawling the websites to see if any positions were available in Perth. My parents could hear the sadness in my voice when I phoned home. They always urged me to stick it out. I didn’t have much of a life outside work, I didn’t have many friends and I still found the city intimidating. My pay cheque was pretty low at the time and after paying the rent and bills, there wasn’t much left, if anything, even if I wanted to go out. I’d occasionally socialise with the girls from work—we had a supportive team at 2SM—and I always had Ebbeny for support. She was caring and patient, and she was also missing Perth so she understood what I was going through. We spent many nights together, having dinner, comforting each other. And still I longed to go home.

I spent a lot of time phoning home and Pia, especially, would cop calls at all hours. The conversation, after the initial sobbing from me, always went something like this.

‘Maybe you should come home,’ Pia would say after I’d gone on about how miserable I was and how much I missed Perth.

‘I can’t. There are no jobs, and I just got here. I’d feel like a failure if I left.’

‘You haven’t failed. You gave it a go.’

So it went on and by Christmas I was close to throwing it all in. Luckily, I guess, I had to work during the holiday period so I wasn’t able to go home—I think if I had I would never have returned to Sydney. As I was leaving work one day, the station’s receptionist, Christine, asked what I was up to for Christmas.

‘I’ve got no plans,’ I replied rather forlornly.

‘I know you don’t have any family here,’ she said. ‘My mates and I are having a Christmas Eve barbecue at a park in Bondi. You should come along.’

I thanked Christine, I was touched by the invitation, but I wasn’t in the mood to meet new people. It seemed like a huge effort, making small talk and being friendly. ‘I’ll let you know,’ I said. I called Christine in the afternoon of Christmas Eve and told her I wasn’t going to make it.

‘Really? That’s a shame.’ She sounded genuinely disappointed.

‘Yeah, I’ve been out on the road all day and I’m a little tired.’

Christine, though, wasn’t giving up quite so easily. ‘The park’s just across the road from my flat so we’re all meeting at my place, it’ll be really relaxed and casual. Come on. You’ll have fun!’

She managed to convince me so that evening I headed to her apartment on Bondi Road. There were about a dozen people there, and I didn’t know any of them, so it was a little confronting to walk in but Christine made me immediately comfortable, introducing me to everyone. Her friends were very warm and outgoing, there was a pleasant vibe among the group and before long I did start to relax and enjoy myself.

Christine and her mates went to high school together and had stayed in touch. Being with them reminded me of my school mates back home, but while I missed my friends deeply, these people were so welcoming I felt a bond with them straight away. It’s bizarre how one seemingly small decision can instantly change your life. I think that if I hadn’t gone to Christine’s party, I would have gone back to Perth. It was, in hindsight, the true beginning of my life in Sydney. Christine and her friends became my new family, and like family they would always be there if I needed them. I would live and grow with them for the next eight years. I would see them get married, have babies, move away and come back. I felt privileged to have a big group of friends in this new city. They were one of the main reasons why I stayed in Sydney for so long, why it eventually became my home.

I stayed at 2SM radio for two years and during that time I was elevated to breakfast editor and newsreader. I wasn’t sure what path I wanted to take next. I had applied to a couple of other commercial radio stations but there were no vacancies. While I was still at 2SM, Ebbeny had moved into television as a general reporter at Channel Ten. I watched her night after night and I was in awe. That’s when I thought,
that’s for me!

I was immediately on a mission and sent out copies of my resumé and demo tapes to every broadcast outlet I could think of. I didn’t limit myself to just television either; I kept applying for jobs at other radio stations as well. I met the news directors of 2GB, 2UE, 2DayFM, Nova and WSFM. There was concern about my voice, at the FM stations in particular. They told me it wasn’t silky enough, that I needed to do quite a bit of work on it. I didn’t know what I was meant to do to improve my voice, but I was persistent and kept calling them to see if there were any vacancies. I don’t think I was ever on their radar. My voice just wasn’t strong enough. I sent letters to the news directors at channels Nine, Seven and Ten, and the executive producers of
A Current Affair
,
Today Show
and
Today Tonight
. I tried to get my foot in the door everywhere. I don’t know how much paper I wasted during that time.

And there’s proof I was persistent. A few years down the track, while I was having drinks with some 2SM colleagues, I was introduced to a former news director of Channel Nine. I had sent him dozens upon dozens of letters, but with no reply. He had left the station by the time I had met him.

‘I remember your name,’ he said. ‘You sent me enough resumés to fill Scott Street!’

Scott Street is a side street adjacent to the Channel Nine studios where all the cottages for shows such as
Getaway
,
Australia’s Funniest Home Videos
and
Kerri-Anne
were based.

‘Well, I’m working here now so I guess my persistence paid off!’ I replied proudly.

It would still be a couple more years before I reached Channel Nine.

I was getting no bites from the commercial networks while I was at 2SM, so I decided to try for Sky News Australia. In early 2006 I called into the newsroom and asked to speak with the news director at the time, Ian Cook. My timing was spot-on. He had some casual producing shifts available and I snapped them up straight away. I resigned from 2SM in March 2006 even though the work at Sky News wasn’t full-time. I was a little worried about money but I planned to find more work elsewhere, even if it meant taking a part-time job that wasn’t in the media. However, after a month, Sky News offered me a permanent position. I was ecstatic. Except when, during all this, my personal life took a terrible turn and all of a sudden I wasn’t reporting the news—I was in it.