IN A MAN’S WORLD: In the 1960s, not many young women dared venture into an office full of men with hopes of fitting in. But that’s exactly what Lakshmi Natarajan did, with class, resolution and courage. The New Straits Times’ first woman journalist tells Audrey Vijaindren about her 55 years of ups and downs in the profession
CLAD in a long black skirt, a blue blouse and two pigtails — that’s the way Lakshmi Natarajan showed up at the Straits Times office more than 55 years ago.
Waiting for her Form Six results, the innocent and impressionable young girl was bored and did not want to waste time. So she applied to be a journalist after her shorthand teacher told her she had a good command of the English language and knew how to communicate well.
Although she didn’t know what the job entailed, she applied for the position anyway.
“It was my first job interview and the then news editor, the late Felix Abisheganaden, asked why I wanted to be a reporter. In all innocence, I answered that I was waiting for my exam results.
I told him I was bored and did not want to waste my time. Looking back, he should have sent me back home for that sort of answer.”
Not long after, Lakshmi received her letter of appointment signed by the then editor-in-chief, Leslie Hoffman.
“He told me to report on April 1. Thinking it could be an April Fool’s joke, I asked why I couldn’t start the very next day. After a split second hesitation, he agreed.
“My starting salary was RM150 a month, confirmation after three months earned me another RM110, ‘a high cost of living allowance’ of RM50 and a transport allowance of RM60. That was the beginning of my career in journalism.
“Felix used to often tease me about how I first showed up for work. When I asked why he selected me if he thought my appearance was not sufficiently impressive, he said: ‘I knew there was substance in that brain of yours.’”
Lakshmi recalls having to follow a senior reporter on court rounds on her first day at work.
“My news editor told me that it was the best place to learn the ropes, understand how to gather facts and write accurate stories.
“The trouble was the senior I was following was not keen to teach me anything because he thought journalism was not for women. He would often tell me I should be a teacher, like most women.
“I was the first female reporter to join the Straits Times. My colleagues openly told me I would not last in a man’s world. From time to time, someone would ask me: ‘So, how? When are you leaving?’ That built my determination to stay and prove that I was in no way inferior to men.”
In those days, when there was only a handful of reporters in the newsroom, it was like one big family. And once her colleagues realised that Lakshmi had no intention of leaving, they accepted her as ‘one of the boys’.
“While this was a good feeling, it was not without its problems. Most men in the office swore like sailors, perhaps even worse, oblivious to the fact that there was a woman around. I dared not complain. If I did, they had a ready answer: ‘All newsmen swear. You’re in a man’s world. You don’t like it, quit.’ It didn’t take long to become immune to my surroundings. It was necessary for survival.
“I had to learn how to write stories by myself, and, believe me, you learn pretty fast when the chief reporter makes you rewrite a story not less than four times until he was satisfied with the copy.”
Lakshmi was affectionately named “Queen of the Courts” because of her ability to go into parts of the court complex not open to the press and get stories which others could not. She developed a close rapport with the top judicial officers, such as former Lord Presidents Tun Sir James Thomson and Tun Mohammad Suffian Hashim.
Due to her extensive court reporting experience, she was asked to conduct seminars on court reporting at the newspaper’s regional offices and the Malaysian Press Institute, where she taught participants the finer points of court reporting.
“In 1978, I obtained a German government scholarship to attend a three-month course at the International Institute of Journalism in Berlin on advanced journalism, and was top of the class of 28 participants from all over the globe.”
Lakshmi also received a special invitation for tea with Queen Elizabeth II when she visited Malaysia in 1972.
“She was particularly keen to discuss women’s issues in Malaysia. I also had the honour of interviewing the third Raja Permasuri Agong Tengku Budriah Tengku Ismail in 1961, and other famous personalities, such as the former United States president’s wife, Lady Bird Johnson.”
Lakshmi also covered several high profile court cases, such as the trial of former youth and sports minister Datuk Mokhtar Hashim, who was found guilty of murder, the Jean Sinnappa murder trial, the body-in-the-trunk murder case where the accused was a Colombo Plan expert from the United Kingdom, the corruption trials of former Selangor menteri besar Datuk Seri Harun Idris and former Sabah chief minister Joseph Pairin Kitingan.
But of all the big, scandalous and unforgettable cases she has covered during her court reporting days, Lakshmi recollects one with a smile — it involved a four-legged animal.
“One of my most unforgettable experiences was covering a case in the magistrate’s court where a man was charged with letting his goat stray along Jalan Pudu. The goat was brought to court as an exhibit.
“It was tethered to a tree outside the court. When the prosecuting officer, Inspector Cletus Gomez, untied the string to take the goat into the courtroom, it made a dash for me. There I was trying to run in my sari, and look dignified at the same time. Those around me were very amused.
“It was a good thing that Gomez saved me from being gored by the goat. Our cameraman captured the moment on film and I still keep the photograph.”
Lakshmi paved the way for other women to enter a once so-called man’s world. Looking back at her career which has spanned over more than five decades, she says journalism is just as exciting now as it was then, although methods of news gathering and reporting have changed.
“We had to personally go and meet people, rain or shine, to gather news but now, reporters SMS their contacts for comments and get their replies without stepping out of the office! From thumping on manual typewriters with several carbon copies (for the editors), we have moved into the age of computers and smartphones with touch- screens. News gathering and dissemination is faster, and newsmen and women have to be on their toes at all times.”
Memorable moments of Lakshmi’s career
“IN thinking about my life as a journalist, there are so many events that stand out in my mind, too many to count. Here is one of my most unforgettable experiences:
One day, during my court reporting days, I heard that a special Industrial Court was going to be set up to hear labour disputes and one of my favourite judges was going to head it.
I approached him for a story. He was agreeable to an interview, provided other major newspapers were also represented because it was a major happening in the judiciary.
When the story was published, the then chief justice was extremely annoyed because he was supposed to make the announcement about the Industrial Court and some other judge had stolen the thunder.
He summoned me to his chambers and told me off for interviewing the judge. I was annoyed because I had done nothing wrong.
He told me: “You don’t have any business interviewing my judges,” and I retorted: “If your judges are not supposed to talk to reporters, you should tell them so. Anyway, there were several reporters at the press conference. Why are you picking on me?” He replied: “I don’t care about the other reporters. I read only the Straits Times.” I was amused and couldn’t help smiling. I said: “Is that so? Thank you very much.” And I left his chambers.
The story didn’t end there. When I returned to the office at the end of the day, everyone told me that the Group Editor Tan Sri Lee Siew Yee was looking for me.
I was scared. I thought he was going to give me a dressing down for some mistake in one of my earlier stories.
When I went to his room, he asked me if I had been rude to the chief justice. News certainly travelled fast. He had received a call from the chief justice complaining about a rude reporter.
I explained what had transpired and when I told him, I couldn’t help smiling when the chief justice said he read only the Straits Times, he replied: “I would have laughed out loud!”
He wasn’t angry with me at all. He was one of the greatest bosses I have worked with.
As I turned to leave his room, he said: “Lakshmi, good for you.”
There was another unforgettable experience. This time it was sad, frightening, a real gruesome incident which churned my stomach.
One morning at 9.30am I was in the office when I received a telephone call about a major road accident in Sepang, Selangor.
Fourteen people were dead. A small lorry carrying oil palm estate workers was involved. After noting a few details from the caller, I briefed the news editor who, within minutes, organised reporters and cameramen to go to the scene. I was left out of the team, which peeved me. I insisted on going and, eventually, he relented but warned me not to faint.
The scene was tragic. Horrific. Frightfully shocking. Policemen were at the scene and were placing the bodies along the road shoulder. Some were dismembered. Policemen and bystanders kept on finding arms and legs in the thick undergrowth and were having great difficulty trying to piece the bodies together. Everyone, including reporters, joined in the search for body parts. The biggest problem was deciding which arm or leg belonged to which body. The skin tone had to be matched, which was not easy, because they all had dark skin.
Shortly after, the bodies were removed and taken to hospital. The entire area was like a mini battlefield, with blood and pieces of flesh strewn around. I tried very hard not to faint, and realised why my news editor had tried to stop me from going to the scene. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days.”