by Tracy Vo
In my final year, I grabbed every opportunity I could to write, even if it was only remotely journalistic. Of course I got involved in Hollywood Senior High School’s Year Book. As well as being part of the committee, I threw my hand up to write three articles: a tribute to a great mate of ours, an entertainment-style piece on the Year 12 ball, and a feature about one of our school camping trips. These were my first attempts at writing and looking back today, they’re ones I’d like to forget. They’re terrible. But I’m glad I gave it a go from that early age; it was fulfilling and I really enjoyed it. And it was just the beginning.
I was accepted into Curtin University, a leading Australian university based in the southern Perth suburb of Bentley, to study a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in journalism. I had read about the course at Curtin and thought it would be perfect for me. The university had its own newspaper and radio station so I would be able to get hands-on experience. The newspaper grabbed my attention and in the second year of uni I enrolled in the print course. Students had the opportunity to produce and write articles for the university newspaper, printed twice a semester, a process I found exciting and something I really enjoyed getting my teeth into. Not all submissions were published, so when my short article on dental health featuring my cousin Diem, who is a dentist, made it into an edition of the newspaper, I was stoked. After that, all I wanted to do was work in print.
I was so disinterested in television and radio that when I was told I had to do a broadcast subject in my second semester, I asked my course coordinator whether I could make up the unit by doing more work in print journalism instead, even though I’d already done all the print courses. No, he said, so I chose radio and avoided television altogether. I was a reluctant student in the radio course, doing only what I needed to pass the unit, until I met Les Welsh. Les was one of the lecturers in radio and also the news editor at the university station, Curtin FM. As part of the unit, we had to work at the station under his guidance.
My first day at Curtin FM was a buzz. I loved the tight deadlines and the sense of urgency. I enjoyed writing shorter scripts and pulling out grabs to accompany a report. The more time I spent there, the more I enjoyed radio. Les was a great mentor, and his passion for the medium would soon rub off on me. I spent all my free time at the station. I wrote scripts for the hourly bulletins and went on the road to press conferences. I got firsthand experience of what life as a radio journalist would be like, and I loved every minute.
The only thing that was holding me back, I felt, was my voice. It was quite high-pitched and wasn’t smooth. It sounded a bit clunky. I would listen back to it but it would grate on me. I’d cringe every time. Les helped me a lot by encouraging me, telling me I had the foundation for a good voice but just needed to build on it with practice. So I spent hours practising in the voice booth, reading bulletins over and over again. I also printed off scripts to take home and practised reading them in my bedroom.
By my final year at Curtin University, I was immersed in all things radio. I was working in the newsroom at the station and producing the afternoon radio program where I organised people to be interviewed on air and made sure the show ran smoothly. I had completed more units in radio journalism than I needed to, so I had time to gain work experience elsewhere. I picked up some unpaid work at Perth’s commercial talkback radio station 6PR, then I was offered a position as an announcer at Groove FM, a new station targeting WA’s youth community. I decided to work late nights or graveyard hours there so I could still fit in my shifts at 6PR and Curtin FM. I also had a part-time job in retail. I was busy but it didn’t feel like work to me and I enjoyed every step I was taking, learning every day in each of my workplaces. Perhaps I’m more like my parents than I realise when it comes to thriving on hard work.
Edging closer to my final months of university, I had some plans about what I hoped to do once I graduated, such as apply for paid work at 6PR and continue working for Les at Curtin FM. Then one day Les asked me, ‘Trace, would you ever consider moving east?’
Actually, I’d never thought about it. Of course I wanted to travel as part of my job, but I just assumed I’d stay in Perth, with my friends and family. ‘Why would I want to move east?’ I said to Les.
Les knew the boss of 2SM in Sydney, a commercial station which also caters for regional areas in New South Wales. He had called him about a junior journalist position that had become available. ‘He asked me for names of good, hardworking graduates,’ Les said. ‘And you’re one of the hardest working students I’ve had. I think you should go for it.’
I was flattered and grateful that Les would consider recommending me, among other students he put forward—the job, which included reporting and news reading, was a great opportunity. Les also pointed out that even if I didn’t get the job, applying for it would be good practice.
I told him I needed a few days to think about it. I didn’t want to apply for the job if I wasn’t totally committed. It was such a huge decision. I thought I could just stay in Perth and work my way up; an opportunity in another city at the beginning of my career had never crossed my mind. I went home and told my parents. Dad was a little uneasy with the idea. He didn’t want his daughter moving so far away. Mum was supportive and said it was up to me, they couldn’t make the decision for me. That night I went to bed thinking about my future. I really didn’t know what to do.
Over the next few days, I went about my usual routine at Curtin FM. I felt comfortable there; I knew what to do and how it all worked. I didn’t want to leave but I knew I couldn’t stay in this comfort zone forever.
‘Trace, you got an answer for me yet?’ Les eventually asked.
I shook my head.
‘I need to let them know in the next day or two.’
He sat down with me and we talked about how I was feeling. He pointed out, again, that if I got this job, it would open a lot of doors for me. ‘Think about how many media organisations there are in Sydney!’ he said. ‘I really think you should go for it.’
I went into the voice booth, telling myself I needed to do some training but really I just needed to stop thinking about it. My mind was all over the place. There was fear: how would I cope without my family? Am I good enough for a big city newsroom? Would I be able to make new friends? Then there was the reality of my situation: I didn’t have a full-time position lined up in Perth, only casual work, yet here was a chance for a permanent job, and it was in Sydney! And there was excitement: living in a big city, what an experience that would be! I continued practising my speaking voice and after about fifteen minutes I walked out with a decision.
‘Okay, Les. I’ll do it! I’ll apply.’
Les explained the application process and I quickly put together a demo tape, my resumé, and references from Les and the radio station’s program manager. I still have Les’s reference letter:
I had the pleasure of teaching Tracy Vo. She is keen to learn, and therefore was easy to teach.
She has a good work ethic, an excellent attitude, a delightful personality and is not afraid to move outside of her comfort zone.
She has the ability to succeed as a broadcast journalist, in radio or television.
Signed,
Les Welsh
News Editor
Curtin Radio
Even now I read his letter and I feel as chuffed as the first time. Les had so much confidence in me. I was a bit of a cruiser back then. But Les already saw someone who could become a successful journalist. For every employer that I would eventually work for, I tried to demonstrate the attributes that Les saw in me.
While I waited to hear back from 2SM, I prepared myself for the worst. I was sure there would be many applicants for the job from all over Australia, and I didn’t really think I had a chance. But I was happy to have been recommended and that I applied. Then about a fortnight later, I was sitting in the newsroom, writing and recording grabs for the next bulletin. The phone rang and I heard Les pick it up. My heart skipped a beat when I realise
d he was talking to 2SM, about the job I’d applied for. ‘I’ve got one of the girls sitting in the newsroom right now,’ he said at one point. I tried not to listen. I didn’t want to hear words that signalled the bad news I was expecting. Then he hung up the phone, turned around to me and said, ‘Trace, you got the job!’
I was shocked. ‘Are you sure? Are you serious?!’
Les gave me a hug and congratulated me. ‘He’s offering a job to you and two other students. He couldn’t choose so he decided to take all three of you.’
I was thrilled. I got the job, and I wasn’t going over there alone.
‘The only problem is, Trace, he wants you all to start in two weeks.’
‘Two weeks! But we haven’t finished uni yet.’
Even though I’d completed most of my units, I still had two months of my final year to go, but 2SM wouldn’t budge on the date and they wanted us to start as soon as possible. Les suggested I speak to the course coordinator straight away to see if I could fast track my studies and hand in all my assignments early. Luckily, I had a pretty good relationship with all my lecturers and they agreed. I think they were really happy for me too. But then I had to tell my parents. I knew they’d be thrilled I got the job but I wasn’t sure how they would react to finding out their twenty-year-old daughter was leaving home in a fortnight.
I raced through the front door. ‘Mum, Dad! I got the job!’
They were so happy for me, congratulating me. My first job as a journalist. I could see how proud they were.
‘When do you start?’ Mum asked.
I took a moment before answering. ‘I have to start in two weeks.’
Now they were shocked, and not so happy. Two weeks was too soon. ‘What about uni?’ Dad said.
I explained how I’d worked things out with my lecturers. I also told them how I’d be going with two of my uni mates, and that helped to reassure them as well. Mum and Dad’s emotions were torn, but as always they were supportive and put me first.
‘Okay, then,’ Dad said with the enthusiasm he throws into every challenge. ‘We need to start sorting everything out!’
A couple of days later I received my letter of employment from 2SM. It’s really happening now, I thought. Those final two weeks in Perth flew by—packing, seeing friends and spending as much time as I could with my family. I stayed surprisingly calm throughout, and kept telling myself, ‘It’s no big deal.’ My contract was for a year and I figured that I’d just come home after that. In my mind, this move was a temporary one.
It didn’t really hit me that I was leaving until my farewell party, which was also an early twenty-first birthday celebration. It was the Saturday before I had to fly out. All my family and friends were there and I couldn’t have asked for a better night. Then, as the party was ending, the goodbyes got tougher. And by the time I had to say goodbye to my girlfriends—Pia, Nichola and Jen—and my cousins Trinh, Trang and Diem, I knew I was going to struggle without them.
‘You can call me any time. Any time, day or night. I love yo!’ Pia and I have been saying ‘Love yo’ to each other since we were fourteen years old.
Pia kept hugging me. We held each other so tight.
Then it was my cousin Trinh’s turn. ‘I’m gonna miss you, Trace! Who can I talk to about boys and stuff now? Who can I gossip with?!’ Her face was so sad. Then she started crying. Trinh never cries. Even her older sister Diem was surprised.
‘Oh my god, Trinh. Are you crying?’
‘It’s okay, Trinh. You can call me any time and we can keep talking crap like we always do.’
We both laughed.
At home that night I sat in my bedroom in silence. I looked around, saddened by the realisation that this would be my room for only a couple more days. Dad came in to see if I was okay.
‘I’m really going to miss everyone, Dad,’ I said.
‘Don’t worry, con. Sydney’s not that far away. And if you don’t like it, you can always come home.’
This was true. It was that easy. No matter what happened, I could always go home. And nothing lasts forever. Mum and Dad always said that nothing is set in stone. I thought about the dangers they’d faced and the risks they’d taken in their own lives, when they were even younger than me, and the courage they showed. Now it was time for me to make the most of mine.
On 19 May 2004 I left my home in Perth. I was expecting only my family at the airport, but Pia, Nichola, Jen and Jeremy surprised me by turning up. It was such a touching surprise to have my closest mates there. Then my flight was called and I must have hugged everyone a dozen times.
‘Take care, con. Make sure you work hard. And be careful over there.’
They were the last words from my parents before I boarded the flight. With one more hug from Mum and Dad, I was off to Sydney.
17
SYDNEY-TOWN
I had never been to Sydney before. I was very lucky that I wasn’t going alone. On the plane with me was Ilka, one of the other students who was offered a job at 2SM. We were both emotional during the five-hour flight and couldn’t stop crying, but at least we had each other for comfort. I’m glad I had someone else there with me. It would have been terribly daunting on my own.
Ilka already knew someone in Sydney so I was able to stay with them for a couple of days while I searched for an apartment. Jess, the third student who had accepted the offer of a position at 2SM, and I were going to share and we wanted somewhere that was close to the radio station in Pyrmont, across the road from Star City Casino. We found an apartment in Ultimo. It was horrible. Old and lifeless. But we needed a place straight away and living in Ultimo meant we could catch the bus or even walk home. It took us a little while to settle in but eventually we made it home for us. We lived in that apartment for six months.
After I arrived I had a few days before I started work to explore the city. It was vast, and a maze. I didn’t know where I was going and couldn’t get my bearings. I was intimidated by the city and worried about how I’d be able to do my job if I couldn’t find my way around. Sydney was so much busier compared to Perth and the roads were terribly confusing.
We all caught up with a university friend, Ebbeny, who had moved to Sydney six months earlier. She was also working at 2SM but had just been offered a job at 2GB. She gave us a rundown on what 2SM was like and what kinds of shifts we would be doing. It was great having Ebbeny in Sydney. She would become one of my strongest sources of support, especially in the early days.
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 ot
her 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?