Is This My Beautiful Life?

by Jessica Rowe

  I could take constructive criticism but it was awful having such a discussion in front of all of my workmates. Thirty people sat around watching the interview while I tried to make myself as invisible as possible. I wanted to click my heels and disappear in a puff of perfumed smoke. Eddie then asked the group to tell him what was wrong with the interview and what I should have done. One of the junior production assistants put up her hand and announced how she would have handled it, something I would never have done when I’d been an assistant. That marble coffee table was looking like a better and better place to hide under.

  The pressure increased after an interview I did with Brigadier Michael Slater in East Timor in May. Australian troops had been deployed to Dili to help return order to the streets after rioting had left 200 people dead. The East Timor president, José Ramos-Horta, called on Australia, Portugal and the United Nations to intervene in the crisis, and Australia sent peacekeepers to the region. I began the interview with my background notes in front of me on the desk, and as usual I had an earpiece in my left ear, so the producer could talk to me while the show went to air to suggest questions, give me information or tell me to wind up the interview. It was a useful way to communicate without interrupting the flow of the interview and program.

  Brigadier Slater appeared on the satellite dressed in his army fatigues, two armed soldiers behind him. The time difference meant it was still dark in Dili, but it was light enough to see the weapons the soldiers held in their arms. I could also see the fronds of a palm tree over the brigadier’s shoulder. The interview started with me asking Brigadier Slater about what conditions were like in Dili at the moment. Before long, I heard the voice of the producer, in my earpiece. ‘How can it be so safe with those soldiers behind him? Ask the question, Jess,’ he said.

  The brigadier was in the middle of his answer outlining the situation for Aussie troops, so I let him continue.

  ‘Ask the question, Jess. The question!’ the producer persisted.

  I kept listening to the brigadier.

  ‘Jess, you have to ask him to justify why he is saying it’s safe when he has those soldiers behind him. Ask him, ask the question!’

  I relented and asked the question. ‘Looking at some of the pictures we’ve been seeing there, it looks incredibly chaotic. It doesn’t look safe on the streets—there are crowds there lining up, desperate for food—and I’m wondering how you feel about your safety given that you’ve got armed guards there behind you, armed soldiers.’

  ‘Jessica, I feel quite safe, yes, but not because I’ve got these armed soldiers behind me that were put there by your stage manager here to make it look good,’ the brigadier replied. ‘I don’t need these guys here.’

  I quickly apologised, explaining that I was unaware this was the case and continued with the interview. The producer who had been insistent that I ask him about the armed soldiers was unusually quiet in my earpiece. Later that day when articles started appearing online about the interview, I suggested to my bosses and the publicity department that we needed to respond to the criticism. I was told I was overreacting.

  The next day I was pilloried on radio and in the newspapers. My unheard defence was, of course, that I was totally unaware the shot had been set up by our team. I had a producer in the control room in Sydney insistent that I ask the question, and another producer in Dili who had staged the background to look more appealing for television. However, neither producer had communicated with the other about what was happening. Of course, I realised the buck stopped with me, but I felt like I was being hung out to dry.

  Since then I have been made aware that the brigadier did in fact travel with those two armed soldiers and it was a regulation that army personnel were to be accompanied by two armed soldiers if they left the compound in East Timor. However, when I found this out the damage had long ago been done.

  Every Sunday I would anxiously read the newspapers as there was always something written about my precarious position on Today. Okay, I knew my public profile meant I was considered ‘fair game’ by gossip writers, I could cop that, but their unrelenting focus was beating my usual optimism out of me. Even Mum’s attempts to cheer me up with the ‘at least they’re writing about you, darling’ line was losing its shine.

  Peter was more hurt about the commentary than me. He was desperate to protect the person he loved and on occasion told me he would talk to management to try to sort it out. I was more cautious as I didn’t want to jeopardise both of our careers so suggested that he hold his nerve. Peter did talk to his boss John Westacott about our IVF treatment. John was supportive of both of us and he managed Peter’s travelling schedule so he would be home for the important times in the fertility cycle.

  But when Peter was away, travelling for work, he tried to read the weekend papers online before I had a chance to see them. That way he could call me first and talk through any of the unpleasant stuff. Thankfully he was home on the Sunday morning when a large paparazzi picture of myself and my stepfather was published with an accompanying article. The photo showed me holding hands with a clearly frail older man as I helped him to cross a busy road. We had just been at a cafe and it was one of the last times he was able to walk out of the house because this wise, kind and clever man was being robbed of his dignity by dementia. And now here he was, disrobed in public to be used as a cheap punchline in a column about my job insecurity. I raged at my executive producer that I could cope with the unwanted attention but my family was off limits. Although I made it clear how upset I was there was nothing I could do to stop such articles.

  Once again I turned up at work the next day smiling, and once again no one said anything to me about what had been written in the paper. The show must go on, so I kept up the brave facade. Often my good nature has been confused with being too nice or an easy touch, but I was no pushover. In fact I was plain stubborn, plus I was determined to do the job I had been paid to do. I had spent fifteen years building my career and I was not going to give it up without a fight. For me that didn’t mean making a loud fuss but being professional, dignified and true to myself.

  Just when I thought the latest storm had passed and I might be left in peace, something else would be written in the newspapers. I was chastised in one paper for turning up late to Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban’s wedding; it simply wasn’t true, but that didn’t stop it being written. During that glorious wedding, I had a chance encounter with the uber-publicist Wendy Day, who from that night took me under her wing and kept me there. This fuchsia-lipsticked, warm and fierce woman helped me navigate the very ugly media storm that kept whirling around me.

  At last there was someone in my corner.

  Laughter bounced off the wooden floorboards of the boutique pub, the crush of people and the dodgy acoustics making it hard to hear anything. A big group of journalists and producers had got together to farewell Mark Llewellyn, Channel Nine’s head of news and current affairs. I had to make an appearance: Mark had been the first to approach me about joining Today and I was unsure how secure my position would become once he left the network. I kept looking around for a way to sneak out of the pub quietly.

  Work get-togethers made me nervous; I always ended up blurting out some inappropriate comment, too loud, too political. My default position included plenty of nodding and smiling, trying to remain neutral to what was being discussed by my colleagues. Looking around the room at this farewell, I could see 60 Minutes reporters Liz Hayes, Charles Wooley and my long-time ‘girl crush’ Jana Wendt. Soon Jana walked over to our group and I was immediately star struck. My throat went dry as she turned directly to me and said, ‘You’ve been getting a lot of scrutiny, haven’t you? Just hang in there.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ I managed to reply.

  ‘It’s happened a lot to me over the years—you feel like the media attention couldn’t get any worse and then it does for no real reason. But then it starts to bottom out and swing upwards in your favour, and there’s no real reason why it does. You
just have to ride it out.’

  I appreciated Jana’s advice and I couldn’t quite believe my role model had words of wisdom just for me! I knew that working in the media could be tough and it wasn’t a career for the faint-hearted. I also understood how brutal it could be for women. Commercial television is still primarily run by men, and some of them have very outdated, sexist views. I would like to say that it’s changing and I suppose it is, but there have been numerous times during my career when I have been disadvantaged because of my gender. How can I forget the time when a boozy, domineering and terrifying news director pinned me against a hallway wall as he lurched back to work after his usual long, alcohol-fuelled lunch. He pressed his body against me but I managed to get away into one of the editing suites, where I rang one of the senior executives in tears. He counselled me and suggested that it wasn’t a big deal; I got the distinct impression I should keep my mouth shut if I wanted to stay working in that newsroom.

  Later in my career, after I had been reading the five o’clock evening news on the Ten Network for some years, I asked my boss if I could have an opportunity to read the main news story. I co-hosted with Ron Wilson, who read the first news story every night and also got to do all the live interviews. I figured I had paid my dues and it was reasonable to share the lead news story and the interviews each night.

  ‘JC, have you got a minute?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure, lovey.’

  ‘How about Ron and I alternate reading the main news story each night?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? Why not?’

  ‘Because Ron’s a man and you’re a woman!’

  Despite knowing deep down that that was the reason I hadn’t been given the same opportunities as my male colleague, I was gobsmacked to have my boss articulate it so bluntly. I try to pick my battles but this was one I was prepared to fight. The next day I organised to have a meeting with the human resources department, who tried to fob me off by saying it was just my boss being his typical self, and of course that was not the reason.

  ‘So what is the reason then?’ I probed.

  ‘Um, there is no reason. It’s just the way it has always been done.’

  ‘Well, it’s time that changed then,’ I persisted. ‘If you look at the bulletins across the network, no female news presenter gets the chance to read the lead news story.’

  ‘Really?’

  By the end of the week I was finally given the chance to read the lead news story. The other female presenters around the network were now also ‘permitted’ to read the main news story on occasion. I had come a long way from the woman who’d be close to tears after being told the wrong pronunciations for difficult words and names by a male colleague. Thank goodness for the autocue operator, the person responsible for feeding the scripts through a device that would be projected onto the camera, who would yell out across the studio floor the correct way to say some of the trickier names. I wasn’t going to give up my chosen career easily.

  The closest I came to cracking during my Today experience was when I woke up one Sunday morning in 2006 to see more unpleasant headlines in both Sydney newspapers. The Sunday Telegraph TV guide included a cover photo after a poll voted me ‘The Most Annoying Person on Television’. The Sun-Herald had an article entitled ‘The Loneliest Job on TV’, which went on to describe how increasingly isolated I had become in my position on Today. It was the final straw. Although neither article was the cruelest I had read, I felt at my lowest ebb.

  What added to my anxiety was the campaign being run within Channel Nine. I was gobsmacked when I saw A Current Affair a few nights later and a story on how I was the most annoying person on television. I could usually laugh this kind of thing off, but it was all becoming too much. Peter rang his boss that night and ranted on my behalf, telling him that he was close to quitting. I told my loyal husband to calm down as we would need at least one pay cheque since I looked like losing my job at any moment!

  My mood wasn’t helped by the anxiety I had over the future of Milano, who was now six weeks young in my womb. While I flicked through the newspapers alone in bed, Peter once again on the other side of the world, I wondered whether it was all worth it. Yes, I could curl up under this doona all day and hide or I could get on with it. After wallowing for a few hours I realised I had to keep going. The worse it got, the more stubborn I became about it all not compromising my professionalism.

  I kept setting the alarm and showing up on time to do my job. There was no way I was giving up; instead I chose to dig in my Dolce & Gabbana heels and be professional. Karl Stefanovic, one of my Today colleagues, also found himself targeted by the media during that time, and the pair of us would try and laugh it off. It was odd sharing a couch with my other co-hosts, three hours a day, five mornings a week, and have them say nothing about the situation. Their silence made me feel more isolated as there was a sense of everyone for themselves. It was not a team, and it was harder and harder to pretend to be a happy family on air. I’m still at a loss why no one said anything—perhaps it was simply because they wanted to keep their jobs and didn’t want bad press about me to rub off on to them.

  A few weeks later I was sitting on the couch in front of the television. The 7.30 Report had just finished, and I was making a few notes about the interview host Kerry O’Brien had completed with the foreign minister, Alexander Downer. I was going to be interviewing the minister the next morning so I wanted to make sure I was across the issues. It was getting close to bedtime so I was tempted to ignore my ringing mobile, but I thought I should answer it, just in case it was work.

  It was Eddie. ‘I tried to ring Peter to apologise, but I can’t reach him …’ I could hear the panic in his voice.

  ‘What?’

  ‘As a husband he would be furious …’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You know, sorry for saying …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘But I didn’t say it.’

  ‘What didn’t you say, Eddie?’

  ‘I didn’t say I was going to bone you.’

  His explanation didn’t help me. ‘So why did you want to apologise to Peter if you didn’t say it?’

  ‘I’ve issued a statement to the papers saying I support you. Come in tomorrow after the show and we’ll have a talk.’

  I hung up the phone, sitting very still on the couch trying to fathom what Eddie had just told me. I had never heard the word ‘bone’ used in that sort of context before, but I didn’t like the sound of it. I was angry but strangely calm, as if this phone call had landed me right into the centre of the perfect storm that had been hurling me around these past couple of months. Peter had just arrived home, and I called out to him from the living room.

  ‘Eddie just rang,’ I said.

  ‘Really? He left a message on my mobile. What did he want?’ asked Peter.

  ‘He rang to say he wanted to apologise to you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘For saying he was going to bone me …’

  ‘Bone you—who the fuck says that?!’

  ‘I feel sick,’ I said.

  A few minutes later my mobile rang. It was a journalist friend, who told me that Crikey, an online media website, had published a sworn affidavit made by my former boss Mark Llewellyn. Included in the document were details of a conversation about my future at the Nine Network. Peter and I tried to log on to the site but the story had already been taken down.

  ‘I want to go in and talk to him, sort out what’s going on,’ Peter said furiously.

  What was going on? I sensed something had just shifted in my universe, the planets had realigned in my favour. Kissing my darling Peter goodnight, I told him to wait and see what the morning would bring.

  That night I fell into the deepest, most delightful sleep I’d had in many months. I slept well because I had a sense that my rock bottom had levelled out.

  Someone called out to me as I reversed out of the garage early the following morning.

&nb
sp; ‘Jessica, come on, give us a smile, I’ve been out here all night.’

  I stopped the car and wound down the window to work out where the voice was coming from. It was still pitch-dark and I wanted to make sure I didn’t run anyone over. A photographer appeared from behind the Moreton Bay fig next to our driveway, a cheeky grin on his face. He was rugged up against the cold, a red beanie on his head.

  ‘Have you really been here all night?’ I asked.

  ‘Yep.’

  I forced my biggest smile as his flash blinded me.

  ‘See you,’ I said, taking the handbrake off and reversing further onto the street before driving off into the darkness. I wasn’t sure what was ahead but I knew it had already begun.

  I hosted the Today show as usual that morning and later that day Channel Nine released this statement from Eddie McGuire: ‘She has handled this with dignity and has shown a remarkable level of professionalism. She has my full support. We have confirmed with her that she remains as co-host of the show.’

  That weekend a full transcript of what became known as the Llewellyn affidavit was published in every metropolitan newspaper. It became front page news after the Nine Network lost an injunction to stop media outlets from publishing its details. The document had been drawn up by my former boss Mark Llewellyn with his lawyer after he had been removed from his position as the head of news and current affairs at the Nine Network. In its twenty-six pages, Mark recounted a conversation that included the ‘bone’ reference. Here’s the excerpt from the affidavit:

  At 3.30pm on 31 May 2006 I was called to a meeting with Eddie McGuire and Mr Jeffrey Browne, Executive Director at Nine. After some initial conversation about general news and current affairs topics a conversation took place as follows: