by Di Morrissey
‘A push? Not a heave-ho?’ quizzed Andy.
William Rowe roared with laughter. ‘Come on. Would I axe a show with your numbers? Of course not.’
‘It’s been done before,’ said Andy quietly. ‘With other solid shows.’
Rowe ignored his comment. ‘Here’s what I think we should do. Your program has the potential to strike a nerve at a time when we need to unite families and promote our own country – in a friendly, easy-going Aussie way. No sappy, hand-on-your-heart stuff, but an acknowledgment that we live in a bloody lucky place that’s unique and pretty amazing but most of us have no idea what’s beyond our back fence, be it city, bush or desert. How many of us have seen the west coast, the north, the centre, the Victorian coast, the Adelaide Hills, inner Sydney, you name it.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. How do we sell stories on places and not make it a travel show, for example? Please don’t say a cooking show.’
Rowe chuckled. ‘No, that’s been done to death, hasn’t it. Look, with a bit more ammunition you could expand on the stories you do, find a bit more meat, delve a bit deeper, spend time on stories so they’re not superficial.’
‘I like the sound of that.’
‘And get a new presenter or two.’
Andy’s enthusiasm cooled. ‘Ah, we’ve tended to keep the presenters in the background, just introducing stories in the studio rather than flying in and doing bits to camera.’
‘That’s because those two presenters you have are dills,’ said Rowe forthrightly. ‘Lightweight. Fluff balls. Pretty people who can read an autocue. We’ll move them to morning TV. We want someone who’s real. Gets in and gets their hands dirty, is on top of and involved with the story. Someone that people – young people – can relate to.’ He leaned back in his seat.
Andy stared at him. ‘You have someone in mind?’
‘I do.’ Rowe smiled. ‘You said yourself Veronica Anderson would be great on camera.’
‘Oh. Yes. She’s clever and intelligent. But she’s always veered away from being a front person.’
‘I realise that. I spoke to the film crews, they have a lot of respect for her. She’s a good journo, a smart producer and nice young woman. Perfect. And she’s got a job that a heap of gals would love.’
‘Veronica is a natural and has a good story instinct. She’s rare. You can’t teach that,’ said Andy hastily.
‘Oh, I know that. Anyone who’s good at what they do usually makes it look easy. But we want young people to imagine that they can do it too, even if they can’t. Everyone who watches medical shows, detective shows, enjoys them vicariously and imagines that they are in the shoes of the professionals. Why can’t this be the same idea? That’s the beauty of it.’
‘Mmm. I see what you’re getting at. That’s putting a lot on Veronica’s shoulders.’
‘Let’s see how a couple of shows go. She won’t be on her own. She’ll have a good team backing her.’
‘Phew. Bit of a tall order.’ But Andy was thinking fast. He could see what Rowe was after and while Veronica might rebel at first, it could be the saving of the show. A bigger budget, more scope . . . ‘I’ll talk to Veronica, as well as the rest of the team. It’s a collaborative show.’
‘You’re the EP. If you think you can deliver what I’ve proposed, I give it the green light. Are you working on a story that could kick this off?’
‘Quite possibly. Requires a trip to Darwin and the Top End for Veronica.’
‘There you go. I’ve also decided that if your team thinks that it can deliver, I’ll make Our Country the flagship program for Sunday nights. Are you fine with that?’
‘Ah, I guess so,’ said Andy, feeling rather dazed. ‘Sunday night – we’re up against the big current affairs guns, 60 Minutes and the like. Many have tried . . .’
‘And done it. I believe we have the right combination. A fresh new approach. Just get your new star onto that story. Whatever it takes,’ said William Rowe.
Andy leaned across the desk to shake Rowe’s hand. ‘This is a challenge but a great opportunity. Thanks.’
Andy called Veronica into his office and uncharacteristically shut the door. He started by telling her, ‘You can go to Darwin.’
‘Really! Fantastic. So our budget isn’t being cut?’
‘Nope. The reverse.’
‘We have more money to play with?’
He smiled. ‘Rowe has a new idea for the program, to increase viewers, boost our profile. And a changed time-slot. Sunday night. Prime time.’
‘Whaaat?’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘And what’s the price? There has to be a catch.’
Andy outlined Rowe’s idea, talking faster as Veronica started shaking her head. ‘Look, it doesn’t make a heap of difference. You just do what you do – dig, research, travel, interview people, talk things through with me, direct the crew. But you just do it all on camera. Show the inner workings.’
‘You’re crazy. I spend hours on the phone, I sit in archives, I spend hours chatting with someone to get maybe one lead, I write copious notes. Watching paint dry is more exciting.’
‘Not if the boring bits are edited out. Listen, it’s worth a shot. You can’t let everyone else on the team down.’
‘I’ll look like an egomaniac. I’m not talent. I’m a slogger doing my job. And half the time a story doesn’t work out. It’s not like an Agatha Christie novel.’
‘And that’s life, that’s the business. Let people see that. The frustrations, the dead ends, the way people misrepresent things. The media gets a bad rap, you can show the balance. You’re dedicated, you’re good at what you do, you’re part of a team – we’ll be sure and show that – and you have a winning personality.’
Veronica stared at him, then burst out laughing. ‘Andy. That’s total rubbish. Don’t try and bullshit me.’
He shrugged. ‘All right. Just be yourself. You can be a pain in the backside at times too. Especially when you think you’re right.’
‘I don’t know . . . It’s so invasive. My privacy will be gone. People will know who I am. That’s going to make my job harder.’
‘Veronica, give it a shot. One program. The crazy expedition – it’s perfect, some backstory, history, the outback setting, those characters . . .’
‘They’re mostly dead and the ones who are still alive won’t talk to us!’
‘Try getting that on film.’
‘Ugh, foot-in-the-door stuff. I don’t want to appear on camera having doors slammed in my face.’
‘Be smart then. Think around it. Look, go to Darwin. See what you can find out. Especially anything about Marta. And John Cardwell’s involvement. There’s a challenge. You’ve started unravelling this story, now you have the blessing and the budget to keep going. You can’t say no.’
Veronica shrugged. ‘I hate the whole idea of people watching me go about my job.’
‘Yeah, every teenage girl in Australia is going to want to be Veronica Anderson when she grows up.’
She threw a pencil at him and, as she got up said, ‘You sell it to the rest of the team. Make sure they know it’s not my idea and I’m not happy.’ She stomped out.
Stepping off the plane in Darwin, Veronica made a mental note to get aerial shots of the approach to the city. She was astounded at the freighters and tankers lined up in the blue bay. The high rises and new complexes around the harbour surprised her too. This was not the sleepy, casual city she’d imagined. Even from the air it looked bustling, energetic, in the grip of a huge boom. She was travelling alone as she’d persuaded Andy to let her hire a cameraman in Darwin when she needed one.
‘I’m sure that our affiliate station up there will be able to arrange something. Trust me to set up shots as needed and allow him free range to accompany me when I’m actually doing something interesting so he won’t be hanging around while I do the boring research. Y’know this is doubling my workload, slotting myself into the story as well,’ she moaned.
Her serviced apartment in the Man
tra was nicer than a hotel, she decided, with a view over the Esplanade to the sea and within walking distance of the CBD and restaurants.
It was steamy and humid, as she expected, which was a nice change from the rain in Sydney. As she always did in a new city, she headed out to walk a few blocks, find some lunch and get a feel for the place.
There were backpackers and tourists everywhere, local office workers on their lunch breaks were casually dressed and all seemed young. The population seemed to be made up of a mixture of races that reminded her of Broome. Darwin was typical of the north with its proximity to Indonesia. It was a place with a history of intermarriage between Asians, Europeans, Aborigines and all combinations in between, which had produced attractive and interesting-looking people. There was a definite buzz in the air.
The choice of where to eat with the variety of cuisines on offer was bewildering. She opted for ‘Asian-fusion’ and discovered it was a modern take on popular Indonesian, Malay and local seafood delicacies. She wrote a note to include the food as a sidebar in the story. Then crossed it out. Too travel reporterish. There were always pictures of the reporter eating somewhere flash. And who looked good sucking a crab leg?
She sipped a glass of white wine while waiting for her meal, breaking a rule not to drink at lunchtime when working and looked at the notes she’d made on the plane. She didn’t have much to go on. Colin had mentioned that Marta had done a one-woman show. There might have been some publicity about it. And Topov sounded colourful enough to get a run in the local paper, especially in the 1950s. She wondered if they ever made it to Arnhem Land. Damn Colin and John Cardwell, she thought. She needed more information.
Andy had given her the phone number of his friend Jim, on the local newspaper and her next call would be to the chief-of-staff at the local TV affiliate to book a crew. She was still uncomfortable with the new thrust of the show and worried that it would inhibit her usual routine. Perhaps, she thought, this whole idea would go away as quickly as it had been whipped up. But she really hoped that she could find out more about Topov’s expedition and turn it into a good story, especially with Cardwell’s involvement in it. Like Andy, her story nose was twitching. How to explain that to a TV audience, she suddenly thought with wry amusement.
After lunch, using the street directory she had picked up from her serviced apartment, she set off to the Darwin Archives in Cavenagh Street. She explained her request to the receptionist who rang through for an archivist. Collette, softly spoken, calm and courteous, was understanding and helped her observe the protocols of registering and signing in.
‘I know you media people are always under pressure. Not like other researchers and academics who come in with more time up their sleeve,’ she said with a smile.
‘I’m sorry. I just arrived in town and I thought I’d start here researching my story, but you’re right, I am under pressure,’ said Veronica with a smile.
‘Well, tell me a little more about what you’re after. Perhaps I can make some suggestions.’
Collette listened attentively as Veronica outlined the story that Colin had told her, omitting any reference to John Cardwell.
‘What an intriguing story. Is there a particular reason you want to follow this up after all these years?’ asked Collette.
Veronica smiled. ‘You’re very smart. The story started out as a nostalgic look at the early days of our film and TV industry but it’s kind of grown into a more interesting one as I’ve learned details about the expedition.’
‘I won’t probe further,’ said Collette diplomatically. ‘Now, we can search for filming expeditions. There could be journals, letters and references in oral histories. But obviously the newspaper files would be the first place to start. You can read the newspapers online up until 1954, so you just missed out. From 1955 onwards you’d have to go to the Territory Library in Parliament House and trawl through the microfilm.’
‘Yes, I know. That’s one of the reasons why I had to come to Darwin. I’m also heading into the newspaper to look up my boss’s old pal, to see if he can help and then I’ll have to put a day aside to go through the microfilm.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind filling in some paperwork and giving me as many names and details as you can and leaving it with me I might be able to find some relevant material for you. Names of people, places they visited, anything you can think of . . . You never know what we might turn up.’
‘That would be wonderful.’ Veronica paused and gritted her teeth. ‘I hate to ask this, but as this is for a TV story and I’m filming much of my research as I go along, could I film a short segment with you in here? It could promote the archives and perhaps encourage people to donate material. I find it embarrassing but for the moment I’m the focal point of the story – until I find out something more exciting.’
Collette smiled. ‘I’ll have to organise the required permission but I’m sure it would be fine. And as you say, if it encourages people to donate family papers and special documents that would be helpful. It’s tragic what treasures families throw out when their relatives pass on. We have some very important historical documents but some of the family histories of life in the early days in the Territory are quite fascinating, as well.’
‘You’re very kind, thanks so much for your help,’ said Veronica taking her card from her wallet.
‘My pleasure. I’ll be interested to know what you find out. Here’s my card. Let me know when you want to film.’
Veronica had made an appointment with Jim Winchester, Andy’s old journo friend whom she’d met at the Pioneers’ Reunion. Although he was officially retired, he still worked as a sub-editor, part-time, on the Darwin Daily
‘Well, hello again, Jim. Andy sends his best wishes.’
‘Thanks. I’ve been looking forward to hearing from you. Here, sit down in this cubicle they call an office. Can I get you something?’
‘No, thank you. You’re subbing the paper?’
‘Only the news section. And I only work three days a week. Came out of retirement as I was bored. How can I help? Any leads yet?’
‘Not yet, I’ve just arrived in Darwin. It seems to be a very energetic place, not the laidback lazy tropical town I was expecting.’
‘Those days are long gone. Tell me how I can help you, Veronica. I feel something of a proprietary interest in this story as I was there at its birth, so to speak.’
‘Yes, of course. Had you met Colin before that evening?’
‘No. Seemed nice enough from our brief meeting. Has he been helpful?’
‘Very. Until a certain heavyweight leaned on him and he’s clammed up. Scared off.’
‘That’s interesting,’ mused Jim. ‘Can I ask who that might be? Confidentially, of course.’
‘John Cardwell.’
The older news man raised his eyebrows. ‘That is interesting. He has his fingers in a lot of pies, I believe.’
‘Really? Like what?’ asked Veronica. ‘Up here in the north, you mean?’
‘The far north, into Asia, the rumour has it. He came through town a few months back, which didn’t go unnoticed.’
‘He has casino interests in Asia, doesn’t he?’
‘Yep. But this time he was seen in the company of some resource high flyers from Saudi Arabia.’
‘Oil people?’
‘Yes, but of course they are also interested in good horse flesh.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Nothing, as far as I am aware. It’s hard to get past the suits and wall of silence that surround the man. Very private fellow. And with his money he can make sure the screen around his activities stays in place.’
‘He must have very loyal retainers. Or he pays them well,’ said Veronica.
‘Or else they are no longer employed. Which can also be interpreted as disappearing,’ Jim said grimly. ‘Mind you, there’s as much myth as substance around John Cardwell and he probably perpetuates a lot of it to confuse people.’
‘I can understand why Coli
n got scared off,’ said Veronica. ‘But why? What does Colin know?’
‘And the connection between our meek and mild failed screenwriter and one of Australia’s most colourful businessmen is?’
Veronica hesitated, then decided to trust Andy’s friend. He might prove a helpful ally. ‘Cardwell was one of the people on the filming expedition with Colin back in the fifties.’
He let out a low whistle. ‘Then this story is certainly worth pursuing. Definitely got legs. But I suppose you’re still scratching the surface, eh? How can I help?’
‘I’m not sure. Any contacts you can think of that might be worth talking to. And a suggestion of a good place for dinner?’ Veronica then ran through what she knew and the advice she’d been given by Collette at the archives.
Jim nodded. ‘The NT Library should be useful but the research will take some time. I know a couple of old timers who might be worth talking to. Just to give you some background on those times in the fifties. They were pretty rough and ready days back then and I assume you’ll need a few talking heads for a bit of nostalgia.’
‘You bet. That’d be great.’ Veronica shook her head. ‘I need as much help as I can get. Your good friend Andy has come up – thanks to our new CEO – with a change in the format of the show.’
‘What was wrong with it? Why do new execs feel they have to reinvent the wheel?’
‘Because they can, I suppose. Anyway, Andy has gone along with it as we’ve been given a bigger budget, hence my being here. But the uncomfortable thing is that I have to be on camera, which I loathe. I’m racking my brains to figure out ways to illustrate what I’m doing because digging into a story can be a pretty boring slog.’
‘Yeah, reading files and papers doesn’t make for riveting TV,’ agreed Jim. ‘You definitely need Bonza and Reggie.’
‘Bonza?’ laughed Veronica. ‘Who are these men?’
‘Bonza is an old croc shooter who describes everything as bonza. Or beaudy,’ Jim chuckled. ‘Reg is an Aboriginal tour guide. They’ll give you some local colour even if it’s got nothing to do with the core of the story.’