Let’s say you’re a shonky property developer, or maybe a shady businessman, a dodgy politician, a union official with your snout in the trough and your hands deep in other people’s pockets. Maybe you’re somebody whose expense claims don’t add up; maybe you live in an extravagant mansion that you could not, given that you are a humble servant of the state, possibly afford.
You’re sitting back in your office one day, dirty hands clasped over your fat belly, and the phone rings, and the sweetest voice imaginable says: “Hello there! My name’s Kate McClymont and I’m a journalist with The Sydney Morning Herald.”
You’d jump out the window, wouldn’t you?
You would if you had any sense. You’d take the fastest exit from the building, run straight home, get your passport, and board the next plane to whatever non-extradition country your lawyer can find, stopping not even to put a suitcase of ill-gotten gains together.
You’d do so because you’d know in your heart that when Kate’s got the smell of a story, she’s like a dog with a bone. She isn’t ever going to let go.
Events this week prove that impish Kate — who has worked for the Herald pretty much exclusively since 1985 — is one of the best reporters in the world.
It’s because of Kate that the organisation known as ICAC — basically, the corruption watchdog in NSW — has today recommended criminal charges against two of the ALP’s most powerful figures, Eddie Obied (nickname: He Who Must Be Obeyed) and Ian McDonald (nickname: Sir Lunch-a-Lot).
The details are complicated, but when you boil it down, ICAC’s report says that corruption to the tune of at least $100 million flourished while Labor was in power in NSW — and it was Kate that found the first loose threads, and it was Kate that pulled on them until the fabric of lies lay, unravelled, at her feet.
She did so despite that fact that Eddie, who has sued her many times, once threatened her (presumably with more legal action?) saying: “I tell you what, you put one word out of place and I will take you on again. You are a lowlife. I will go for you, for the jugular.” (For the record, Mr Obeid has this morning denied that he’s corrupt, and looks forward to his day in court.)
It’s not the only story she’s broken, and the stakes are often high. A few years ago, a businessman, Michael McGurk, turned up at her office to say that he feared for his life, and a week later, was shot dead. She hasn’t backed away from that yarn, either.
It’s not just that Kate’s good. She’s also modest. She is not like those reporters you see on TV, all sharp-suited and full of themselves. The mantelpiece groans under the awards she’s collected, and yet she’s as impish and unaffected as when she started, 30 years ago. She’s very often out there on her own with her stories — a forward scout for reporters who aren’t as brave — with one eye-brow comically arched, and it wouldn’t be one of Kate’s stories if there wasn’t a little cheek with the beef.
Exhibit A, from today’s Herald: “Mr Obeid had bad luck when it came to fires. In July 1983, fire destroyed the offices of his newspaper, El Telegraph, in Marrickville. Bad luck was to follow him to his newspaper’s new premises, where, in 1992, there was another fire. Mr Obeid also had the misfortune of two fires at his former home in Concord.”
Kate could have run for the hills, but stayed instead on his tail. As to why she does so, Kate told the Australian Press Freedom Dinner last year that the chief responsibility of the media is to do exactly what she does: to give the public faith “that we did not look the other way.”
