Tribute from Bruce Walkley - Thanks, Col

By Bruce Walkley - December 1, 2004

Col Climo gave me my second 'start' in journalism. About five years ago I was freelancing, none too successfully, and asked Col over a cup of coffee if he had any work subbing on The Bulletin. There was nothing going at the time, but Col said: "Leave it with me." A couple of hours later Col phoned and suggested I call Kathryn Wicks, the chief sub on The Sun-Herald. I did, on a Wednesday. Kathryn said :"Can you come in tomorrow?" I could, and , four chief subs later, have been there ever since. Col had made a phone call to his great mate Rick Allen, who at the time didn't know me from a bar of soap, and Rick had passed the word on. And when Col put in a word for you, people trusted him.

Apart from that, I treasure those wonderful Sunday lunches with Col and Dael, the Allens, the Dobbins et al, when the wine and bullshit flowed freely. Col introduced us to the fine wine from the Castagna winery in Beechworth, and last Friday Julian Castagna told us he, too, was in mourning, with, no doubt, many of his colleagues in that industry.

I got my first start in journalism on The Examiner in Launceston, when Col was about five years old. Around 150 years before that a man called James Leigh Hunt edited another publication called The Examiner, in London, and did two years in jail for libelling the Prince Regent, later George IV, by calling him something to the effect of a fat, lazy bastard. I think he would have got away with it as fair comment today. And Col would have written a great headline for it.

Hunt, a friend of Byron, Keats and Shelley, also wrote this, which I had impregnated in my brain by the Tasmanian education system and/or my poetry-loving father, before Col was born, and which I think is appropriate today:

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

And saw, within the moonlight of his room,

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,

An angel writing in a book of gold:-

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,

And to the presence in the room he said,

"What writest thou?" - The vision raised its head,

And with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."

"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,

But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee then,

Write me as one who loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanish'd. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,

And show'd the names whom love of God had bless'd,

And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

Thanks, Col.