by Tracy Vo
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.
A couple of years earlier, I was a victim of drink spiking. Pia had come to Sydney for a holiday and we went out to Darling Harbour. We later found out that drinks bought for us by two men were spiked with an anti-epilepsy drug called Rivotril. At the time Pia and I felt groggy and a lot drunker than we should have been. We managed to get home safely but we continued to feel the effects for the next few days.
I told my colleagues at 2SM ab
out the incident and about a week later, a media release came through from police announcing they had arrested two men over recent drink-spiking incidences in Sydney. One of the girls at the station picked it up and showed it to me, and I realised that these were probably the same men who had spiked Pia’s and my drinks at Darling Harbour.
The men had been charged with unlawfully administering a stupefying drug with intent to steal property and also commit sexual assault. They had spiked the drinks of nine women and three men. They stole from their victims and raped some of them. Pia and I were very lucky we weren’t robbed or assaulted. I called the police and they organised for me to meet with detectives. I sat with them for hours and also had to try to identify the men through a series of mug shots.
The trial started in February 2006 and I was the first witness to give evidence. I was extremely nervous. But I did my best and survived the witness box. As I left the court and walked out the door onto the street, there was a barrage of cameras in my face, journalists throwing questions at me, security guards, people everywhere. I was completely unprepared. The fact that the media—my colleagues—would be covering the story hadn’t crossed my mind. It was such a strange scenario being in the news instead of reporting it.
The story was all over the evening news and in the newspapers the next day when I went to work at Sky News. I was a little embarrassed, but they were a good bunch and they made me feel comfortable, and eventually I just got on with my work and my life.
It was a huge lesson for Pia and me—never take a drink from strangers, no matter how decent they seem. But I learnt a lot about my job too, about what it feels like to be on the other side of the news.
Sky News is a 24-hour news service and it was the perfect springboard into television for me. I was given many opportunities at Sky. I was a line-up producer, where I would form the news bulletins, align the stories in a particular order and put news bulletins live to air. I also packaged news reports on a daily basis. It was great because it gave me the chance to strengthen my voice. I also volunteered to line up and interview talent for programs such as the Health Show and the Book Show that Sky News aired back then. One of my highlights was field producing on Anzac Day, where I had to manage a live broadcast from Sydney’s Martin Place, organising talent for our bulletins to be broadcast live. They would be presented by newsreader Leigh Hatcher. I was very nervous. This was my first outside broadcast. I wanted to make sure I did a perfect job.
I arrived at Martin Place at 3 a.m. to check that everything was in place. The crew was there and the live link was working. It was going smoothly until it started raining, heavily. Some of the talent I had lined up were running late, or couldn’t find our location in the rain and crowds. I had piles of papers, folders and mobile phones. My hands were full. I tried to call the studio to warn them our talent was running late. I had my hands-free kit plugged in my ear but the rain was pounding down and I had trouble hearing the studio producer. With one hand clutching a wad of files and my phone and the other hand cupping my ear, I was yelling, ‘What?! Can you repeat that?’
Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I could see Leigh laughing. At me.
I quickly ended my call and urgently said, ‘What’s the matter? What’s happened?’
‘Trace, you absolutely look the part—stressed-out field producer. I love it!’
I grinned, feeling like I’d made it.
Leigh was one of those people who always managed to lighten the mood when things got stressful. He was a total professional but so warm and positive too, and I learnt a lot from him about working in television. He also had a cracking sense of humour, and was one of the people who made my days at Sky News enjoyable.
Another newsreader who made those days memorable was John Mangos. John was one of my early supporters, and still is. I bumped into him one day years after I had left Sky News. He greeted me with a kiss on each cheek and said, ‘Trace, I am so proud of you. You’re another one who’s now doing it for us ethnics!’
John made me feel proud too. Because, even though the first years of my career far exceeded my expectations, I’d remained aware of my background and I had often wondered if it was holding me back.
I was at Sky News for almost two years. I felt it was time to move on and try to break into the world of commercial television, but it was a tight market to crack. I wasn’t getting any interviews with Nine, Seven or Ten. Then I started getting paranoid. Was it the way I looked and was it my surname? It was rare to see an Asian face on commercial television in those days. There were a couple of Eurasian reporters around like Karen Tso but no one of full Asian heritage. I decided that was why I couldn’t crack it. It was an ignorant assumption, but that’s what I thought back then. I was close to giving up on the commercial stations when one of my Sky News colleagues, Ian Kain, said something that made me determined to stick to my goal.
I’d been moaning to him about the commercial stations and told him that I’d decided to pursue SBS instead.
‘Why would you do that?’ he asked.
‘I dunno. I think I could get something there in the future. I don’t think the others are going to give me a chance, because I’m Vietnamese. At least I’ve got the right look and name for SBS.’
Ian frowned. ‘Trace, you’re great at what you do and SBS is a great network,’ he said. ‘But don’t pursue them only because you feel like you don’t have the right look for the other channels. I want to see you and all of your Asian features, on any other channel but SBS!’ he said cheekily.
It was some of the best advice I ever received.
It wasn’t long after that conversation that I moved on from Sky News. There were some producing roles vacant at Channel Ten. I applied and was offered a position in mid-2007 as a producer for the Early News with presenter Bill Woods. It was an overnight shift that started at 10.30 p.m. and wrapped up when the bulletin finished at 7 a.m. I began strongly and was really enjoying the new challenge, but at this point in my life, I wasn’t in the best physical shape. I was feeling very lethargic and fainting a lot. I had these strange black-outs, and despite many tests and specialist appointments, the doctors couldn’t work out what was wrong with me. I felt I was run-down and almost burning out. One thing was clear, though, I was not up to working full-time and I wasn’t sure how long it would be before I was healthy again, so after only a month I decided to resign from Channel Ten. It was disappointing—I’d finally made it into commercial television—but I knew it was the right thing to do as I couldn’t give it 100 per cent.
For the next two months I stayed at home and rested. I had been leading an unhealthy lifestyle; I worked hard and played hard. It was like my body was telling me I needed to take it easy.
Eventually I started to feel like my normal self and I was ready to get back to work. I needed to find a job, fast. By then my old boss from Sky News, Ian Cook, was a news director at Channel Nine and I decided to give him a call on the off chance that there was some work around the station. I always seemed to call Cookie at the right times because, sure enough, he had a producing role he needed to fill straight away. Again, timing was everything and I couldn’t believe my luck. And that’s how, on 22 October 2007, I joined the Channel Nine family.
18
THE NINE FAMILY
My first day at Channel Nine didn’t seem real. Driving past security and parking my car behind the building, I felt more like a visitor than one of the company’s employees. I watched the nightly news and 60 Minutes at home so it was hard to believe that I was actually there to work.
The first person I met in the newsroom was Michelle Pike, executive assistant to the news director for the national bulletins and for Sydney. Michelle is one of the most organised people I have ever met. Over the years I watched her work her magic—whether someone needed a new phone or computer, or an interpreter for a foreign interview, Michelle would always deliver. She became a member of my ‘Sydney family’.
I walked into the newsroom on that first day
like a wide-eyed kid. The place seemed so grown-up, loud, busy—and exhilarating.
My first job at Channel Nine was as an associate producer on the production desk for the six o’clock news. My job was to help the journalists with whatever they needed while they were out on the road, providing background information, organising interviews or writing newsbreaks or VOs (voice-overs) for the newsreader. I struggled in the first couple of weeks. My writing wasn’t up to scratch and I was slow. It was also quite an intimidating desk to work at because all the others were older men; I was the only female and I was young. But I made an effort to build up relationships with my colleagues from the beginning of my career at Nine, and this proved important.
One of the first people who supported me on that desk was Geoff Maurice, one of the senior producers. He was extremely patient with me, and help me learn Nine’s writing style. If I messed up, he’d show me how to fix it. Geoff had a good rapport with all of the journalists. It was his personality—he was easy to get along with, a gentle man. Everyone who has worked with Geoff knows he’s a stickler when it comes to timekeeping. Time is crucial in a news bulletin. It is probably one of the most stressful aspects for the executive and line-up producers to deal with. Reporters always go over time. If your story went over the allocated time, Geoff would pull out a lighter from his top drawer and spark it. The joke was the journo had to put their palm over the flame for as long as their story ran over time. If, on the other hand, a reporter manages to file a story that comes in under time, it’s considered a miracle and the producers love you! Despite cutting time in stories, Geoff always had plenty of it to spend with the younger producers and journalists.