IT was a late-night knock on the front door of our rented house at Stanmore in Sydney’s inner-west which led me to Byron Bay.
Facing me when I opened the door were two men, who had obviously had a big night at the local pub, who wanted to speak to ‘Helen’.
Wrong house, I said, there is no ‘Helen’ here.
Swaying on the doorstep, the men aggressively again demanded to speak to ‘Helen’. Again I told them that there was no ‘Helen’ living in the house.
When they wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, I angrily told them to piss off and slammed the door in their face.
I really thought they would start smashing the door, but thankfully I heard them staggering away, mumbling as they went.
With my wife, Pam and our baby son, Heath, in the lounge room, I was genuinely concerned for our safety.
Following up, as it did, an incident a month or two beforehand in which a new car tyre was thrown over our fence from the back lane and my growing unhappiness with my well-paid job with a Sydney newspaper, it proved to be a major catalyst for a lifestyle change.
It’s a familiar story for many people, but Pam and I were tired of the city lifestyle and wanted change.
Somehow, with minimal discussion, we mutually decided we just had to get out. But where to?
I didn’t have any particular place in mind, but for me, it had to be somewhere on the coast – north or south of Sydney, it didn’t matter. There was no particular place Pam wanted to move to either, so she was pretty happy with my approach.
With journalistic jobs in short supply in regional areas, we naively thought the best approach would be to initially buy an established business and go from there.
We started scouring the Businesses for Sale columns in the Sydney papers.
Which is how, after two flying weekend visits to inspect the shop and the town, we came to buy an existing patisserie/café called Au Peche Mignon in the Old Bakery complex in Marvel Street, Byron Bay. (Now Bay Leaf Cafe).
With our two-year-old son and our dog, we made our move to Byron Bay in the latter half of 1983 and it changed our lives forever.
We worked our shop, which we had renamed Savoir Fare, for more than three years before selling it.
While happy to be out of the shop, we had no Plan A, B or C for our next move, which was a bit concerning.
However, within a few weeks we scored a lucky break.
I certainly had no inkling when I parked outside the Commonwealth Employment Service (CES) office (today’s Centrelink) under Coco’s restaurant at the top end of Fletcher Street in Byron Bay way back in 1987 where it would lead me.
I had gone in there after a morning surfing at Wategos to see what jobs were on offer.
With Pam and our young son Heath sitting in our battered old white Holden Belmont outside, I walked up the steps and through the open front door of the CES office.
A couple of paces inside was a room divider with positions vacant advertisements pinned to it.
The first notice I saw was an advertisement cut from the Northern Star seeking a journalist for the paper’s Byron Bay office.
Without speaking to a soul in the office, I turned around and walked back to the car.
“It’s OK. I’ve got a job,” I said to Pam.
Somewhat presumptive, yes. But I thought my many years as a journalist in Sydney and the UK would give me a good chance of getting it.
And I did, thanks to the then editor, Jim Brigginshaw, who gave it to me.
Thanks Jim. Who knows where I would be today if I had not got that break.
Seven years down the track in 1995 it led to me being head-hunted by merchant banker David Kingston and journalist Glen Burge from Sydney, who had just bought the Byron News off John Wright, the son of the paper’s founders, Reg and Jean Wright.
It was tough – but exciting – in those early days for everyone who worked there. For me, it was mostly seven days a week and long, long days.
I knew nothing about Apple Macs and even less about the Pagemaker production system we had inherited.
Which explains while I was still there at 2 in the morning on production day of my first Byron News.
I went home, with the paper still not finished, and wondered what the hell I had got myself into.
But I learned quickly and survived those early years, as did the paper – just.
For the Sydney owners, it was apparent the paper wasn’t the goldmine they possibly expected. I’m sure they were delighted when APN stepped in and bought it a couple of years later.
Facing an uncertain future at the time, I certainly was happy with the outcome.
Again, without a Plan B, another lucky break. Where would I be now if APN hadn’t stepped in?
Under APN we just got bigger and better. We went up from A4 size to a tabloid with teenager and rising kayaker, Nathan Baggaley, on the cover of our first ‘big’paper.
We also left our rabbit warren home in Bangalow Road – which was taken over by Bluesfest – to an office above the Westpac Bank in Jonson Street.
It was my home away from home for nearly 17 years and home for my other family – fellow Byron News workers.
People came and went over the years and I can happily say that the ones who stayed for any length of time – and most did – not only were they were co-workers, but friends. And still are.
Without being too melodramatic, I can truthfully say I gave the job and the paper my heart and soul.
For this lifetime journalist, it was a dream job in a dream location. It didn’t get any better.
There was a never-ending stream of issues, conflicts, protests, colourful characters, natural disasters, festivals, tragedies, sporting and community champions on which to report.
Think Club Med, Byron Council’s move to Mullumbimby, the moratorium on development, Belongil erosion, Byron Bay bypass, New Year’s Eve, the battle for The Pass, nude rallies, No Maccin Way protests, Pacific Highway upgrade through Ocean Shores, the fight to save the Byron Bay Community Centre, the fight to build a new Byron Bay Community Centre, holiday lets, the Roundhouse, Petria Thomas, Nathan Baggaley, sports fields at Ocean Shores, paid parking at Byron Bay surf spots, festival site at Yelgun and the Arakwal Native Title claim for starters.
And before that when I was with the Star, there was the Cape Byron Academy saga, the opening of The Beach Hotel and its consequent major impact on the town, and the Paul Hogan wedding.
Now that was something that did give the Bay an international focus.
But if anyone asked, I would tell them the biggest story in my time at the Star and the News – and this is not a slight on the rest of the shire – is Byron Bay itself.
To grow, as it has done in the 35 years that I have lived on the Far North Coast, from the small coastal, industrial town I knew nothing about, but fell in love with the day I arrived, to international tourism icon status, is extraordinary.
But oddly, out of the hundreds of stories I wrote over the years, none got more reaction than the very personal piece I wrote on the death in 2011 of my dog Belle.
There were letters, phone calls, stopped-in-the-street conversations and it even became a feature talk-back piece on local ABC radio.
It certainly stunned me.
My aim through the years always had been to try and capture the spirit and essence of the shire and its people.
Whether I was successful or not is for others to judge.
PHOTO TOP: Dressed for work at the Byron Shire News.
BELOW: With Pam in Italy a couple of years ago.
