The hottest thing in journalism more than 100 years ago.
Lamentations over the ruthless slash and burn tactics in the newspaper industry could become the biggest wake in recorded history. The demise of the auriferous period of reporting was recently discussed with deep emotion and animation by a variety of veteran media hands on two occasions in Darwin .
At the first post mortem - on the Balcony Bar - this gnarled scribbler , who began his newspaper career in Sydney in the 1950s, listened to verbal sobbing -as well as criticism of modern media - as he sipped, believe it or not, several mugs of lemon squash. On visits back to Darwin were journalist Kim Lockwood , from Melbourne, and ace photographers, Mike Jensen , and Barry LeLievre , from Canberra , all three having spent years in Darwin.
When Jensen, a Dane, a freelancer in Europe before coming to Oz , worked for the Australian News and Information Bureau , Darwin, I used to go through his waste paper basket like a scavenger , salvaging pix he discarded because he regarded them as not being first class . His fabulous views of the outback , some aerial shots, were works of art .
LeLievre , also of ANIB , worked with several well known journalists over the years . Lugging a heavy camera bag may have led to him having a hip replacement . Now he is a top gun cameraman at the National Gallery , Canberra . He took several shots of us hamming it up in between libations as we discussed , in tabloid terms , the shock , horror media massacre.
Lockwood conjured up a fine example of the proclaimed gilded era of journalism when he told how he and several other ex newspaper men meet regularly in Melbourne and , over liquid refreshments , discuss the state of the media world. One of that group , who had scaled the heights in the newspaper game , said an incredible sense of achievement- back in the hot metal days- had been pulling together all the human and mechanical ingredients needed to meet the deadline for a weekend paper with the Melbourne football results flowing in .
This anecdote reminded me of the time when I was a cadet reporter on the Sydney Sun in the 1950s doing a spell as the finance pages stone sub editor on the factory floor in the hot metal days. It was a smokey , Dickensian scene , with scores of clanking linotype machines, men shouting , pneumatic tubes disgorging copy and corrected galley proofs, the finance pages having to be ready on time , no matter what, to be pushed away and plated up. There seemed to be an orgasmic movement beneath your feet when the presses began to roll ; you felt you had played a part in making the ugly building shake - even though you were a pimply, small cog.
The prolific American writer , Paul Gallico, wrote a short story , the name of which I cannot recall, which told of the feeling of triumph and achievement in getting newspaper presses running . While drinking with a British journalist in New Zealand , nearly 50 years ago, he mentioned that same Paul Gallico story, saying it had greatly impressed him and summed up the meaning of being a journalist, the sense of achievement at regularly contributing to the birth of a new edition.
The second post mortem was actually a birthday party for a person who could write several books about the golden age of journalism in the NT- Betty Bowditch, wife of the late James Frederick Bowditch , crusading editor of the Centralian Advocate and the NT News. Her youngest daughter, Sharon, a journalist , came from New York , where her husband , Col Allan , runs the New York Post .With her was daughter Kate J Allan - the bare initial J in honour of two great newspaper men , her grandfather Jim Bowditch and the irrepressible Jim "Flasher " Oram .
Other well wishers who attended the party at Virginia came from South Australia, Alice Springs and included some media people from Sydney, one still hurt at having recently been made redundant after years in the newspaper game. It was only natural that notes and names were compared, the global state of the media discussed. The peccadilloes and peculiarities of paper people past and present provided a memorable evening of nostalgia and updating . It was a golden night for this old scribe. Alas, the hot metal days have long since melted away - but the memories continue to burn . The cool, sterile era of production which replaced the great hot metal period is in a sad state of disarray- and other technological developments within the next 18 months will further impact on struggling newspapers and television .
STOP PRESS: Emails from several newspapermen from yesteryear have specifically referred to the passing of the golden age. One, who requires oxygen because of smoking 40 cigarettes a day, is writing his memoirs and occasionally fires off a letter to the editor. Another, who spent time in the Territory, has written books and numerous magazines articles , is also trying to get publishers interested in various proposals- and kindly helps out in his son's vineyard and conference resort in NZ, sampling the product .
