By Mark Harrison - November 30, 2004
His first words to me were: "I don't normally rate you marketing blokes, but Jeremy White gave you a big rap, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt and hopefully you will make a difference."
I responded by saying, “Jeremy White told me that you were a cranky bustard” or words to that effect. He laughed, the ice was broken and away we went.
My introduction to Col is something I will never forget. It was his challenge to me to “aim up” and he made an indelible impression on me straight away.
The pity is, I can't remember my last conversation with him.
I know his many interests included music, fine wine and putting semi-colons relentlessly in their right place, but after a short space of time, it became obvious we had some similar interests - particularly sport.
I knew he liked English soccer, but I had no idea about it, so it was never brought up. He was into the three codes of footy in Australia but, being a Kiwi, for him rugby union was king. Col was also incredibly passionate about horseracing.
Most Friday mornings, we went through the form guide for the weekend races. He was the only other guy I knew at ACP who read The Sportsman, the newspaper for true horse-players and students of the turf.
Over the years, we shared plenty of racing tales: hard luck stories, long-shot winners and conspiracy theories. None of the girls in my marketing team would even know who Lonhro was, but Col knew the breed of its great-grandfather's grandfather. It was the sort of knowledge that made it so enjoyable being in his company.
However, it wasn't all jokes and laughs, particularly when I overlooked a task. When it came to the magazine, Col demanded there be no compromises and the perfectionist was so pissed off with me, I was sent to Coventry for a spell.
I, too, am stubborn and for three months we didn't talk - just exchanged nods and glares. Then I decided enough was enough.
I was told it was his birthday, so I sent him an email saying that even though he was a cranky, stubborn bustard ( or words to that effect), I sincerely wished him a happy birthday - if that meant anything to him anymore.
He replied that it really did mean a lot to him. The ice was broken again and, without a discussion about what actually transpired to cause the rift, we resumed normal transmission as if nothing had ever happened.
Royal Randwick is a fitting venue to bid farewell to Col in his final appearance.
As a racing man, he is probably disappointed that there won’t be an eight-race program on in tandem so he could have a final crack on the punt. I am sure, though, he would have been thrilled to be honoured at the same place all the legends of the turf have earned their stripes.
The ones that he gave a stripe to certainly had to earn it - on all the racetracks of life.
Colin Climo, you definitely made a difference - even for an editorial bloke. :)
Rest in peace, mate, and my deepest sympathy to Dael and Luke.
Mark Harrison
Marketing Manager
The Bulletin
