The Stories That Changed Australia: 50 Years of Four Corners Read online

  EPIGRAPH

  ‘Give me liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely

  according to conscience, above all liberties.’

  John Milton, Areopagitica, 1644

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  EPIGRAPH

  INTRODUCTION

  by Kerry O’Brien

  1 ‘THIS PROGRAM WILL GO TO AIR OVER MY DEAD BODY’

  by John Penlington

  2 TIMES THEY WERE A-CHANGING

  by Peter Reid

  3 ‘GIRL TAKES OVER’

  by Caroline Jones

  4 THE COOK WITH ALL THE FIREWOOD

  by Allan Hogan

  5 RECOLLECTIONS OF A CUTTING-ROOM TECHNICIAN

  by Jonathan Holmes

  6 AIDING OR ABETTING?

  by Mary Delahunty

  7 THE BIG DIG

  by Chris Masters

  8 THE ADRENALIN YEARS

  by Peter Manning

  9 HANDLE WITH CARE

  by Jenny Brockie

  10 REPORTING BLACK AUSTRALIA: THESE STORIES AREN’T OVER

  by David Marr

  11 COMFORTABLE AND RELAXED: ENCOUNTERS WITH JOHN HOWARD, 1994–2007

  by Liz Jackson

  12 ‘THAT AWFUL BLOODY PROGRAM’

  by Sally Neighbour

  13 REPORTING FROM ANOTHER COUNTRY: STORIES ABOUT ASYLUM SEEKERS

  by Debbie Whitmont

  14 THE WAITRESS, THE REFUGEE AND THE KILLING BOX

  by Sarah Ferguson

  PHOTOGRAPHIC INSERT

  AUTHOR BIOGRAPHIES

  COPYRIGHT

  INTRODUCTION

  by Kerry O’Brien

  Put simply, Four Corners is a television miracle. It began life on a trial basis on 19 August 1961 in a medium that was just five years old in Australia; a medium whose managers have since routinely killed off programs because the audience was too small or the expectation too big, often not even bothering to ensure they were properly archived for history. Some programs have literally disappeared without trace. Many others have died a natural, even dignified death after a long run, but none has outlived this great television current affairs trailblazer.

  There was certainly no great expectation when Four Corners was launched. Its start was as tentative as the first steps of a child. Stories vary about its beginnings, but what is not contested is that one day in 1960 a newsreader and sometime cricket commentator, Michael Charlton, managed to squirrel himself and a journalist colleague named Bob Raymond past the normal hierarchical and heavily public service-oriented processes of a resistant management into the almost deified presence of the ABC’s General Manager, Charles Moses. This was a last-ditch appeal for a new program idea.

  Charlton had some cachet in the place. His father, Conrad, was the first voice on ABC Radio, introducing Prime Minister Joseph Lyons to launch the national network in 1932. Charlton the son was the first face on ABC Television, introducing Prime Minister Robert Menzies to launch the network 28 years later.

  In those days, television news was indeed radio with pictures; journalists struggled to understand and fully exploit the potential of the new medium, and TV current affairs didn’t exist. By that time ABC Radio was a settled and indispensible institution for many Australians — from the most humble to the most elite. It had already helped keep the nation informed through the Great Depression and World War II, and had brought Test cricket alive on the airwaves. I can remember as a small child in the early ’50s that whenever I travelled from the Queensland bush to stay with my grandparents in Brisbane, I had no choice but to sit with them each weekday at lunchtime, listening first to the ABC news and then to the classic radio serial Blue Hills, written by Gwen Meredith. I can still hum the theme.

  But for Bob Raymond in 1960, public broadcast television was a pale shadow of its relatives abroad. In his memoir, Out of the Box, Raymond recalled: ‘There was straight news — read with BBC-like solemnity by former radio announcers in dinner jackets — plenty of sport, a weekly “news magazine” of non-topical items, and an occasional brief illustrated lecture by a university political scientist on some “faraway place of which we know little” … But beyond that — nothing. Topical background, contemporaneous comment, helpful interpretation was not just in short supply; there simply wasn’t any.’

  Raymond and Charlton managed to persuade Moses to embrace an idea for a topical weekly program that represented virgin territory for Australian television. They thought if they were lucky, it might last a few months, maybe even a year.

  Moses must have occasionally wondered what he had done as the new program found its feet, seriously ruffling political and other institutional feathers along the way. Amazingly, one year has become 50, and feathers are still being ruffled.

  But it wasn’t just its own rich lode of groundbreaking investigative and social documentary stories that Four Corners was to produce. It also spawned a whole stable of troublesome offspring, from the first nightly national current affairs program, This Day Tonight, in 1967, to the current crop: 7.30, Lateline, Foreign Correspondent, Australian Story, Insiders, Landline, Lateline Business and Business Insiders. Through all this, Four Corners has remained the Mother Ship; leaky at times, occasionally in need of serious work in the dry dock, but still the Mother Ship.

  The philosophy of Four Corners today is simple enough, and hasn’t changed much over the years: to invest time and resources identifying and investigating issues of significance to Australians and fashioning the end results into a coherent, informative 45-minute television narrative.

  In 50 years, for all its imperfections, it has nurtured and showcased many of the finest journalists, editors, cinematographers and sound recordists this country has produced, of a standard that is in the global front line. Some, like Michael Charlton, Mike Willesee, Caroline Jones, Andrew Olle, Paul Lyneham and Chris Masters, became household names (the two Michaels for their pioneering interviews; Caroline as the trailblazer for so many other outstanding women in modern journalism; Andrew for his elegant writing and filmmaking; Paul for a clever, probing intellect that would not be denied; and Chris for his tireless and courageous pursuit of institutionalised corruption).

  But from the earliest days there have been countless others who have also had an enormous impact, not only on their own craft and the television industry, but also on the broad national debate. They also at times have been catalysts for significant change. It’s not hard to find examples year by year, decade by decade, and some are in this book; a book that offers real insight into the nature of the program and the people who made it.

  Looking back, I realise I was still a babe in the woods at 30 when I first went to Four Corners in 1975, and something of a journeyman when I returned in 1985. It’s been a rare privilege for me to come back again at this stage of my career to share a cautious pride in 50 years of accumulated achievement.

  So what of Four Corners into the future? Journalism in all its forms is not so much at a crossroads as on a roundabout with a confusion of exits. Newspapers are fracturing, disappearing or morphing into something else; converging with television and radio. Television journalism is spreading itself across a number of platforms.

  Despite the exciting potential that technological advances offer, the quality and depth of content in both print and television is being diluted before our eyes. The opportunities for distortion and manipulation by those who hold the reins of power across society are growing. Yet the reliance on cheap, emotive sensationalism, the hypocritical exploitation of tragedy, the pursuit of mindless celebrity and the ranting of would-be demagogues to se
ll publications or draw audiences is becoming pervasive, sucking the oxygen out of real journalism. And yet, I believe the public need and hunger for real information, for real debate, for real, thoughtful inquiry and revelation, have never been stronger.

  At the same time, the evolution in the delivery of news is coinciding with a worrying decline in resources. The pursuit of quality journalism, of proper investigation, inquiry, and finally, the production of stories on any significant scale and consistency, will always require strong resources. In public broadcasting, too, those resources are being chipped away. As you will gather from some of the personal accounts in this book, it takes a great deal of time and digging and travel and expertise — plus blood, sweat and tears while up against remorseless deadlines — to produce the goods in long-form television current affairs.

  In this era of massive change there are no guarantees for any print publication or electronic program into the longer term, and even as the dust is still settling on its 50th anniversary celebrations, and incidentally on a year of vintage investigative journalism, we have to acknowledge that Four Corners is not immune from the pressures of these times.

  What Four Corners has proved in what can so often be a fickle and superficial medium, is that it is possible to pursue excellence and endure; fall at the hurdles from time to time, occasionally get weak at the knees and even stray off course, but endure. I don’t even want to try to imagine life without it.

  1

  ‘THIS PROGRAM WILL GO TO AIR OVER MY DEAD BODY’

  by John Penlington

  As an eager young reporter who’d switched from newspapers to broadcast journalism in 1961, I found the weekly staff meetings of the ABC Talks department rather dull affairs; but this one was to prove a monumental exception. Michael Charlton and Robert Raymond had been invited along to outline their new project — a weekly magazine program on topical issues, to be called Four Corners. Had anyone suggested that morning it might still be running half a century later, everyone in the room, including Charlton and Raymond, would have fallen off their chairs laughing.

  As I sat listening to their impressive plans, I had not the faintest idea that I would be one of three reporters parachuted in when Charlton and Raymond left the ABC two years later in frustration.

  Television was approaching its fifth birthday in Australia. It was about to have its first current affairs show, for which Raymond and Charlton proved ideal pioneers. Raymond was an affable Australian journalist who had freelanced in Fleet Street, made films in Africa and returned home to work as an ABC documentary producer known for being willing to experiment. Charlton was a popular ABC Radio announcer, newsreader and television presenter with a warm cultured accent and a gift for live commentary, especially on cricket. He was also a keen student of international affairs.

  The two had become close friends after working together on a live interview series called Horizons. They nourished their friendship with regular lunches at La Veneziana, a cheap Italian restaurant in Darlinghurst, where over many a bottle of house red they would lament Australia’s lack of stimulating topical programs such as the BBC’s Panorama and early American current affairs journalists like Ed Murrow on CBS.

  Why couldn’t Australia have the television equivalent of a quality Sunday newspaper, they kept asking. No one else seemed interested, so they designed one themselves, only to discover that finding a home for it looked hopeless. The ABC’s Director of Talks told them ‘leave it with me’ — and there it stayed — while the Controller of News, a fierce protector of his fiefdom, made it clear that any such program would be done by the News department and not by Charlton and Raymond. Weeks passed and in desperation Charlton suggested they seek an audience with the General Manager, Charles Moses, who they knew to be a fan of Charlton’s cricket commentaries.

  Moses granted them a hearing, which Raymond recalled in his memoir, published in 1994: ‘When we finished he rose heavily from behind his broad desk and went to a cupboard in the corner of his office. He took out a full-sized tree-felling axe, swung it once or twice with satisfaction, and carried it back to his chair.’ Moses, later Sir Charles, had been an army officer in both Britain and Australia. His favourite hobby was competition wood-chopping, for which he was famous.

  ‘And what makes you two think you can get this program off the ground, when all the advice I get is that it won’t work?’ asked Moses, before proceeding to grill them about whether they were up to the job while delicately running his thumb along the gleaming edge of the axe.

  Finally, the General Manager put his axe away and slowly crushed his cigar butt in an ashtray. ‘This program of yours sounds like something the ABC needs, but you’ll never be able to do it through the normal channels. The only way it can be done is if you two just go ahead and do it. So I’m going to give you my personal permission to do it outside the departmental structure. I’ll see that you get a small budget and the freedom to do it the way you want to. If it’s a success the ABC will take the credit. And if it’s a failure I, personally, will kick you both all the way up William Street.’

  Still determined to preserve its domain, the News department developed an alternative proposal, but Moses knocked it back. A day or so later in a corridor at the ABC’s Gore Hill TV studios on Sydney’s North Shore, Charlton and Raymond came face to face with the Controller of News. As they passed, Raymond heard him snarl, ‘This program will go to air over my dead body.’

  The inspiration for the title, Four Corners, apparently came from the closing speech in Shakespeare’s King John, though who came up with it has been contested over the years. Both Charlton and Clement Semmler, the Assistant General Manager for Programs (AGM), claimed it had been their idea. Raymond recalled first hearing it from Charlton when the presenter declaimed one day, with a wave of his arms, in their office, ‘Come the four corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them.’ By Raymond’s account, Charlton continued, ‘People always make that mistake with the quotation from King John. It’s not four corners, it’s three. But four will do for us.’

  Four Corners hit the airwaves for the first time on 19 August 1961. In the eight-item program, a visiting American astronaut, Scott Carpenter, talked about plans for America’s first orbital space flight; the world record-breaking Olympic swimmer Jon Konrads discussed his race strategy; and Charlton quizzed an economist about that week’s federal budget. Two anniversaries were commemorated — the end of World War II in the Pacific and Indonesia’s Declaration of Independence. Viewers were also treated to a filmed rehearsal and interview with the popular harmonica player Larry Adler, who was in Australia for an ABC tour. Finally came the ‘Voice of the People’ segment, which featured street interviews on the topic ‘What are you worried about?’ Its aim was to show ordinary Australians to themselves and it proved both entertaining and popular. Raymond, the show’s producer, saw it as ‘a little light relief to finish the program’. In its own small way, it was a precursor of talk-back radio.

  After the closing credits, Raymond took a call from an anxious ABC bureaucrat. His verdict: ‘That was an excellent program. I don’t think we could have offended anybody.’

  That would soon change. A few weeks later Charlton and Raymond presented a 25-minute report on shocking living conditions at the Box Ridge Aboriginal settlement near Casino, where 110 people were crammed into 12 houses or shacks, with one communal water point and no electricity. All Charlton and Raymond had done was follow up a comment by the Bishop of Newcastle that the settlement at Box Ridge was ‘a living cemetery’. Viewers saw a clergyman who tried to help the Aborigines at Box Ridge tell Charlton some people in Casino thought he was a Communist because he was concerned about Aboriginal welfare.

  The report was a trailblazer in opening Australians’ eyes to the plight of their Aborigines, and put Indigenous issues firmly on both national and state political agendas. Until Four Corners came along, no home-grown television program had bothered probing beneath the headlines in that way. The audience was
outraged and protests poured into the New South Wales government. It would be six more years before Aborigines became citizens of Australia and were given the right to vote.

  Working on a limited budget, Charlton and Raymond filmed reports in many parts of Australia, but ventured overseas with Four Corners when Air India gave the team free seats on inaugural flights to its newest destinations. Whole programs devoted to the Soviet Union, India and Hong Kong enthralled viewers, thanks to these freebies.

  Within two years of its launch Four Corners had become a spectacular success, well beyond the traditional ABC audience, and Charlton had won a Gold Logie for ‘outstanding personality of the year’, an award usually reserved for entertainers like Graham Kennedy and Pick-a-Box quiz show king, Bob Dyer. The significance of Charlton and Raymond’s achievement was summed up by a later compere and Executive Producer of the program, Robert Moore:

  They legitimised the Australian accent on TV … they allowed real Australians to be seen and heard and changed our consciousness of ourselves and our country. Four Corners made A Big Country and This Day Tonight possible, but it also made Homicide possible. It created an atmosphere in which producers and viewers could see themselves in a new confident light.

  Four Corners’ success aroused discomfort among some in the ABC hierarchy and the conservative Menzies government, then in its fourteenth consecutive year in power. ABC management enforced a policy of political balance which required program-makers to seek permission from the General Manager for any politician to appear. Raymond later recounted how they could only use an interview with an opposition politician if the relevant government minister also appeared. Thus, by avoiding an appearance, ministers knew they could kill a damaging report. Censorship by default was how Charlton described it.