2007: Bert Newton, 50 years in television

NEWTON celebrated 50 years in TV and a nation applauded the most durable, cross-generational Australian entertainer to grace the medium.

IT'S not intentional, just the easy flow of his conversation, but we keep returning to the troubling thought of a world without Bert Newton in it.

Death - that last bittersweet showstopper - has been rattling around like a crude one-liner in his beautiful mind since he spent six hours last November in a Melbourne hospital undergoing a quadruple bypass, an operation that only ever offered a 50/50 chance of saving his heart. That heart. Still the warmest thing in showbiz; his greatest asset, above the arsenal of jokes, above the whiplash wit, above that moon-shaped face. It was his heart that kept us glued, made him so damn likeable, so damn watchable.

His specialist took a look at that heart a few months ago and gave his opinion in no uncertain terms: "I think you'd better go back to work."

So here he is at 75 years of age in the ABC's Ultimo Rehearsal Rooms in Sydney - rehearsal HQ for his latest stage role as'50s DJ Vince Fontaine in the nationally touring musical Grease - giving death what it deserves: ridicule, a good old-fashioned roast. He recalls visiting the grave of an old friend, accompanied by two ageing entertainer colleagues, one a comedian and the other a singer. After paying their respects, the comedian turned to the singer and sighed resolutely: "Hardly worthwhile going home." He recalls an old Melbourne journalist friend who once offered to read him his pre-written obituary (quite an honour; all truly great Australians have one), saying it was a good read with plenty of high points, shame if he missed it.

But there's always shade with the light. He's as much the man fronting the Logies as he is the man who came home after wrapping his final episode of a remarkable 14-year stretch fronting Channel Ten's Good Morning Australia, and sat down at his kitchen table in an empty house with a sandwich and a glass of champagne left for him by his dear wife, Patti. Cheers, Bertie.

The past five years have been the toughest of his life. His health scares and the personal battles of his actor son, Matthew, have been endured in public. He's been stout. He's been honest. He's been a dad. Matthew is based in the United States, where he continues to adjust to the complexities of a bipolar disorder that, Newton says, is the root of recurring incidents of intimate partner and public violence and drug and alcohol dependency. Today, his parents can only watch from afar, hoping for "the happy ending" they have both prayed for.

"You always hope people see you as the fair dinkum person," Bert says. "When the downsides occur, the down times, when they're totally public, that's the time when it's hard to explain what it's like because it's not something you have to cope with by yourself. You cope with it in the spotlight. But both Patti and I are of very strong faith. And I think you've got to work your way through it. And if I was to complain about a couple of the hands I've been dealt that would be disgraceful on my part because I've been given so much. How many people have a happy marriage, a career that you enjoy, friendships that have been lifelong?"

His only true regret is that he started in entertainment so young that his closest friends were often 20 years older than him. "Of course, what you soon realise is that you start losing them all."

He thinks of the words on his gravestone and says he'd be happy with a quote from his entertainment hero.

"Personally, he is a fine man," the great Bob Hope said of Bert. "Professionally, he is one of the best television performers I've ever seen." Or maybe something short and sharp would work better, a nod to his hilariously awkward 1979 Logies moment with an intimidating Muhammad Ali: "I like the boy!"

In 2007, Newton celebrated 50 years in television and a nation applauded the most durable, adaptable, cross-generational Australian entertainer to grace the medium: The Don Lane Show, New Faces, Good Morning Australia, four Gold Logies. He's seen the shape of the box change, small to big, fat to thin, big to small. He's seen what's inside it change colour, change dimensions, change the world. "I came in on the ground floor of television," he says.

It was death that brought him. He recalls when he was 11 years old in 1950, getting himself ready for school. It was a Monday morning, around 8am. His father, Joe, was in hospital. His mother, Gladys, took a phone call from the hospital. "I heard Mum scream," Bert says. That was the day his dad died.

It wasn't long after that that his mother said Bert needed a hobby, something to keep his mind busy. "She suggested I join the Scouts," he says. A visiting 3XY radio host invited Bert's scout group to join the studio audience of a local afternoon children's radio show, Peter's Pals. "I fell in love with radio," he says. "All I wanted to do was to be an announcer on 3XY. I left school at 15 and I went to 3XY and a couple of months later I was on air. I achieved my one ambition very quickly. Everything that came after was unexpected."

In 1957, before his first television screen test for Channel Seven, he nervously fronted a seasoned studio producer for advice. "What's expected of me?" he asked. "What do I do once the camera is rolling?" The producer was brief: "Be yourself and add 10 per cent." That was all the advice he ever needed. It was in his added 10 per cent that the magic dwelled; the cheek, the edge, the man who sits down with Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York, and voices his concerns about how one should best address royalty: "Don't worry," he says, twinkle in his eye. "I'm in a good mood, so you can just call me 'Bert'." That's his brand of humour. Australian comedy turned bitchy somewhere in the past 25 years. Bert Newton never hurt a single soul in search of a gag.

"What you need is three things," he says. "A bit of luck, a bit of talent and someone with authority who likes what you do." He's had three of the best in his corner: Graham Kennedy, Don Lane and the girl he married 39 years ago. "People talk about the partnerships with Graham and Don, but the greatest partnership I've had is with Patti," he says. "The best thing I've done in my life is marry Patti."

It's not public knowledge that among Bert's many interests - his wife, the works of Abbott and Costello, the Virgin Mary, horseriding, his wife - is a long and avid dedication to The Weekend Australian Magazine. He reads all the regulars first and saves the features to read in bed during the week. He likes to read profiles on great Australians who have devoted their lives to making this country a better place: politicians, scientists, sports stars, educators, historians, social leaders, and even the odd immortal entertainer.

ALSO IN 2007:
* Intervention starts in NT indigenous communities
* Kevin Rudd becomes PM, ending 11 years of Coalition government
* Howard loses seat and retires; Brendan Nelson becomes Liberal leader
* APEC held in Sydney
* David Hicks returns from Guantanamo Bay
* Mohammed Haneef is wrongly arrested on terror charges
* Casey Stoner becomes MotoGP world champ