Meet a Journalist

A journalist's profile, stories and career in the field of journalism. Know a journalist who should be profiled here? Send an e-mail to Janet E. Bardon

April, 2002
Peter Duffy
Columnist, The Chronicle-Herald
duffy@herald.ns.ca

I was born and bred in Manchester, England and don't honestly know if I chose journalism, or it chose me.

When I was a lad, I went with a youth group, the Cubs, to tour my hometown evening newspaper, The Manchester Evening News, a massive publication selling more than a million copies a night.

In the typesetting room, as big as a city block, here were all these typesetters (it was in the days of hot lead) working away. It was a hot, noisy place, very thrilling to a youngster. One of the older typesetters asked our names and, one by one, made slugs of type of our names.

I was so thrilled to have mine that I went around for weeks, with an inkpad, stamping my "by-line" on anything and everything from cornflakes boxes to copies of Shakespeare. (Hamlet, by Peter Duffy!)

That was the start. I wanted to be a journalist more than anything. Never wanted to be anything but.

When I was 18, I applied for a job with another local newspaper but was turned down. I was told I should've applied when I was 16! Back then, you were supposed to start as a tea-boy and learn the business from the ground up!

Eventually, when I was 20, I landed a job selling classified advertising (gag!) for The Daily Mirror. At the time, that was the largest daily in Britain, selling 5 million a day. (I worked on the northern edition, which sold 1.5 million copies daily.) It was as close as I could come to journalism. I lasted about two years; my heart wasn't in it.

In 1965, I came to Canada and landed a job on a small weekly in Prince George, B.C. It was called The Prince George Progress and my job, again, was selling classified ads. (Sigh!) It was a small paper and the editorial department consisted of the editor and one other staffer.

One evening, as I was working late, the editor asked me what I was doing for supper. "Not much," I replied, "I guess I'll go to the A&W as usual". The editor suggested I accompany him to a big Mardi Gras dance and fancy dress ball that were going on at the local civic arena. Seems the food and booze were something to behold. (He'd lived there for several years so knew these things.) He gave me the camera to carry, a big Mamiya C33, and off we set. Sure enough, we got in for free and it was everything he had said. He disappeared, leaving me standing awkwardly in a corner. I didn't know a soul.

He reappeared some time later slightly the worse for wear. Seems everyone he knew was there and was buying him drinks. I was stone cold sober. In fact, he was too drunk to work, so he asked me to cover for him. He showed me how to work the camera and flash, gave me his pad and pen, and staggered off into the crowd.

Delighted, I ran around, taking pictures and interviewing anything that moved. To my further delight, the paper ran one of my photos and used my story (I still have a copy!) the next day.

Ever after that evening, whenever the editor wanted to go "socializing" instead of working, he'd ask me to cover for him, which I happily did.

Eventually, he was let go because of his drinking problem and I was moved across to become the junior reporter!

A journalist at last! And I owed it all to demon booze, so-to-speak!

I went to Grade 13 in England, than came to Canada in 1965 at the age of 22. I didn't complete my education until I was in my 40s, when I went as a part-time mature student to Dalhousie University. Took me 10 years but I finally got my BA with an English Lit major. I never did attend journalism school.

As for which experience best prepared me for journalism, I don't really know. Maybe life itself. Little things, like lining up at the grocery store checkouts. Or waiting in the rain for the bus, after a long day at work. If I'm still interested in reading the paper, or watching the news, when I get home, that says a lot about journalism and journalists, don't you think?

My own rule of thumb is, never write anything you wouldn't read if someone else had written it. In other words, always be interesting; never be boring.