You can take the man out of the newsroom but you can't take the news out of the man.
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At least not in Peter Collins' case.
Seven years after his retirement from The Standard as the paper's longest-serving editorial employee of 43 years, Peter's innate news sense remains as sharp as ever.
Whether it's the sound of a distant siren, or a snippet of information heard in a chance conversation, it doesn't take much to raise his antennae at the hint of a good news story.
"It's still in the blood," says the now 69-year-old veteran newsman, known affectionately as PC among colleagues.
"If I hear sirens I wonder where they are and what's happened. Every person is a walking story."
From local politics to sporting events, court cases to natural disasters, good news and bad, Peter helped tell the stories that shaped Warrnambool for more than four decades, earning widespread respect among community and colleagues.
From a rookie reporter to chief-of-staff, sub-editor, night editor, rural editor and even some-time photographer, Peter's intimate knowledge of the news-gathering process was unrivalled.
A glance through his modest collection of clippings recalls his involvement in some of the biggest local stories of the time: the Ash Wednesday fires; royal visits by then Prince Charles and Princess Diana, the fall of London Bridge, the Telstra outage and the Capitol Cinema inferno.
He was also at the helm of the late-night sub-editing team which pulled out all stops to beat the metro papers to arguably the all-time biggest story - the September 11, 2001 Twin Towers terrorist attack.
It wasn't always that way though. By Peter's own admission, journalism didn't come naturally.
A shy teenager who "wasn't much good at English", he might easily have spent his working life labouring on the family's Koroit beef and potato farm.
At 19, he applied for a job on the off-chance as an assistant proofreader at The Standard.
Peter didn't get the job but was offered an interview for a cadet reporter's position instead.
No one was more surprised than Peter that what began as a three-month trial evolved into a successful lifelong career spanning a record 43 years.
All the more remarkable that he had never previously used a typewriter and had no knowledge of shorthand.
"It was a skill that I fell into rather than pursued as a chosen career. You could call me the accidental journo," he reflects.
On his first day on the job on August 7, 1972, The Standard's front page reported the Australian team had just arrived in Munich for the Olympic Games, Billy McMahon was prime minister and Bob Hawke was then the ACTU president.
Coincidentally, The Standard, then still in its original Koroit Street location, was gearing up to celebrate its centenary two months later.
In those days the paper cost six cents for 12 pages of news and Peter's take-home pay was $37, paid in cash in a brown envelope.
Warrnambool's population was just 19,000 compared to 36,000 today.
It was a sink-or-swim initiation for Peter.
There was the time, just two months into the job, when he was called on to cover the Melbourne to Warrnambool Cycling Classic a day after the event because the rostered reporter hadn't turned up.
And the Hampden league football grand final with a day's notice.
"I learnt through trial and error and a keen work ethic. You learnt to be speedy, accurate and concise," Peter says.
Life in the newsroom in the '70s was a very different environment from today, with mobile phones, computers and the internet still a far-off dream.
Staff shared landlines, and at times, even typewriters, churning out as many as a dozen stories a day, Peter recalls, quoting English poet Matthew Arnold "journalism is literature in a hurry".
"There was none of the modern info bank, just a printed phone book and two black plastic dial phones," he says.
"Often it was guesswork to find a contact or ring as many Joneses, Blacks etc as possible to find the person you wanted.
"Our contact books were dotted with 'dial-a-quote' people on various topics."
Peter was one of two cadet reporters, three graded reporters, a chief-of-staff, sportswriter, a social writer, one sport and one general sub-editor and one photographer.
Production staff made up the pages in lead and the paper was printed on the press downstairs at the Koroit Street premises.
He describes it as "a hive of noise and inky, hot metal aroma mixed with thick cigarette smoke". "Shifts started at 2pm and finished at 10.30pm with doors closing at 6pm for a one-hour tea break," Peter says.
There were rounds to the police, fire and ambulance stations, weekly trips to the saleyards, reams of agricultural show results and of course the dreaded basket of sports results to type up.
Reporters even had to read the late-night news highlights live on south-west radio station 3YB at the end of the shift.
"News-gathering skills are basically the same," Peter observes, "but the tools of trade are now much more efficient and far-reaching".
The most significant change during his time at The Standard was the advent of computers which in turn ushered in the internet and social media.
"But it still doesn't diminish the need for a nose for news and reporting without bias. That's the challenge for the modern journalist," Peter says.
It hasn't all been smooth sailing for this mild-mannered reporter.
He's had his share of threats by powerful figures, been taken to the Australian Press Council and been chipped by former Prime Minister and local MP, Malcolm Fraser.
But with his typical good humour, he says he feels "blessed and lucky to have had more than four decades at The Standard, without being sacked or sued".
End of an era for Standard icon
It was the end of an era for The Standard in July when the paper's longest-serving employee Liz Cozens said farewell after 55 years.
She was just 15 when she started working for the paper, and in her early days was really the face of The Standard.
If you put a classified ad in the paper back then, it may just have been Liz who was behind the counter at the old Koroit Street offices which still bear the paper's name.
She started her career at The Standard on January 9, 1967 at a time when the newsroom was humming - quite literally - because the paper was printed at the presses underneath the Koroit Street building.
"When the press would start up, you'd hear it. The floor would be rumbling," she said.
"The hot metal days, they were good."
She became an icon in the office working in accounts, payroll and circulation - making sure there were enough papers in the newsagencies on days of high demand.
"During May Races and the Grand Annual Sprintcar Classic we always sold more papers," she said.
On big news days, extra papers were also needed. Some of the bigger news events that stick out in Liz's mind were the Ash Wednesday bushfires and a shark attack at Lady Julia Percy Island.
Over the years she has seen 11 editors come and go, and staff numbers grow to about 100 at the height of operations.
For Liz, The Standard has been family with life-long friendships formed.
"I've loved every minute of it," she said.
Every day is an adventure
Andrew Thomson is part of The Standard furniture.
The longest-serving current staff member, 'Thomo' started his career as a copy boy back in February 1986.
A decade later he published a story that, after an eight-month investigation, proved the then bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Ballarat, Ronald Mulkearns, knew about notorious paedophile priest Gerald Ridsdale.
Twenty years on and he broke a story the Catholic Church had settled a multi-million dollar Supreme Court lawsuit, leading to a string of other settlements.
Andrew has been a confidante to victims of horrible crimes and disasters.
He spent months with those who lost everything in the 2018 St Patrick's Day bushfires and successfully led a campaign pushing the energy distributor responsible to deliver a safer network.
The past 36 years has seen Andrew break countless stories and provide in-depth details into some of the region's most serious crimes, including Kirkstall's double murder/suicide in July. "It's always exciting to be neck-deep in the action," he said.
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