Oh Ducky, you are at it again
By John Casamento
Published in ‘In House’, Herald & Weekly Times
High on the ledge in The Sun's picture department stands a strange piece of objet d'art which baffles visitors who cast their eyes high enough to see it.
On top of a rough, stumpy piece of four-by-four timber sits a plastic duck of unknown origin with a tiny toy camera slung around its neck.
Further inspection reveals intriguing flotsam and jetsam stuck to its sides — a piece of underdeveloped film, a miniature boom gate, a broken piece of porcelain, out of date media medallion for the MCG and the back half of a toy cow.
Recently, another item was added to the odd "sculpture" — a plastic duckling.
But more about that later.
The artwork is destined to become as well-known as the America's Cup or The Ashes urn, but the photographers whose names are inscribed on plaques roughly hammered into its woodwork are unlikely to place it in the same covetable category.
This is the notorious “DUCKY AWARD” for “behaviour above and beyond the call of stupidity” and not to be won by any self-respecting photographer.
Contrary to belief by some editorial staff, it does not get its name from our deeply respected Sun editor Colin Duck, but from Neale Duckworth, the inaugural winner in 1982, who escaped the embarrassment and fled to New York where he is now freelancing.
Neale’s confession that he had lost the keys to his car at Yarra Glen Racecourse and had to return to the lonely vehicle in the car park next day wasn’t forgotten amid the merriment of the Sun photographers annual summer breakfast by the Yarra that year.
His folly was rewarded with the bizarre trophy and the Ducky Award was born.
The following year, an innocent beach assignment earned Terry Phelan a nomination which his voting colleagues found irresistible.
In a landslide victory, he won the award for an allegation of being a pervert and suffering the humiliation of an investigation by police.
In his diligence, Terry had used his telephoto lens to “check out” a woman on the beach to see if she would make a suitable picture.
She wasn’t quite what Terry was looking for, so he walked back to his car and drove off. Unfortunately for Terry, the woman had seen him, decided he was “one of those”, noted his registration number and reported the incident to the police.
Their investigations led them to the company’s transport department and a chuckling Phelan whose explanation satisfied the bemused garage foreman and equally bemused police.
The only photographer to unhappily win the award twice (so far) is yours truly.
I had to sheepishly admit to “losing something” and “breaking something”. When pushed for an explanation, I described as delicately as possible how an M.C.C. press medallion slipped from my belt while I was standing at a toilet during the drinks break at a Shield cricket match at the MCG.
It fell into the “S” bend and, as such items are precious and their loss usually incurs the displeasure of the Melbourne Cricket Club which issues them, I had no alternative but to retrieve it.
My colleagues embellish the incident by claiming I missed two wickets while recovering the medallion and another three while washing my hands.
I topped this unique faux pas the next year by smashing a 300 year-old Spanish fruit bowl during an assignment in Eltham while arranging a picture.
The antique bowl slid off a coffee table I was moving and crashed to the tiled floor, smashing into four cleanly-cut pieces.
An expert job with super-glue made its owner happy and no nasty letter from an insurance company ever hit Flinders St.
Other winners of the Ducky Award in recent years have been Janine Eastgate who failed to take evasive action when attacked by a city car park boomgate which repeatedly belted her over the head, while Drew Fitzgibbon will never forget a Southern Cross Hotel assignment which he took three trips from the office to get right.
On his first attempt, he forgot to load his camera and on his return his flash failed to synchronise with the shutter. Red-faced, he returned once more with all systems go.
Not all winners have had their humorous moments. Colin Stuckey’s visit to a dairy farm on an assignment in 1988 proved fatal for a nervous cow when she impaled herself on some farm machinery and died in an attempt to shy away from Colin who was photographing the herd around her.
But this year’s winner, George Salpigtidis, can certainly raise a smile as he recalls a backward step too many and the resulting fall into a suburban swimming pool while shooting some ducklings who had been rescued and given a temporary home in a good samaritan’s Templestowe pool.
George received his award at the photographers’ annual dinner at a Carlton restaurant. The waiters in the private dining room were fascinated by the proceedings as master of ceremonies Colin Stuckey handed out booby prizes to some of the award nominees and announced the votes a la Brownlow Medal style.
George won the award by one vote from equal favorite Jay Town, who earned his nomination by missing an important picture of Kylie Minogue arriving for her 21st birthday party. Jay was answering a call of nature nearby and Kylie couldn’t hear his pleas to slow down her entrance.
Over the years there have been many memorable “infamous deeds” by the happy band of photographers in the Sun’s picture department, but of the many which have caused red faces, Alex Gall’s nomination still has the staff “rolling in the aisles”.
Alex was sent on a showbusiness assignment to St Kilda and told by the picture editor that a publicity woman from the show would be waiting for him outside the National Theatre.
Arriving in his car opposite the spot, a woman acknowledged his wave and Alex did a U-turn to carry out the rendezvous.
As she hopped into his car and began talking, Alex realised he had made a terrible blunder. He had picked up a hooker!
Life is full of surprises for The Sun’s photographic staff.
‘In House’, Herald & Weekly Times, June 1990
