I was pretty scared the first time I phoned Robert James Lee Hawke. I was 19, it was 7:05 in the morning and my first words to him were something like: 'Hello, Mr Hawke. It's Susan from the Mike Carlton show. I'll put you on hold and Mike will be with you shortly.' With that, I flicked him to hold, and buzzed Mike Carlton and said, 'The Prime Minister is on line 3.' It was 1983. Yes, I was a switchboard girl for the 2GB breakfast show and, over the next two years, Bob Hawke was a not-infrequent interviewee of that gifted broadcaster. They were a good match, and I was always a little bit scared that I'd lose the phone call on its way to the studio.

This might have been my only personal contact with the Prime Minister, but in 1985 I found myself at much closer quarters, here in Canberra in the old parliament's press gallery as 2UE's cadet reporter. I don't think I was any less scared of the man we called Hawke in those early years, terrified that, in a media conference, I would ask a stupid question, particularly with the likes of Laurie Oakes, Paul Lyneham and Ian McMinn as witnesses—not to mention a few others who are still in the gallery today. But what I slowly understood as the years went on was that I was watching an extraordinary man in action, a man who could read an audience and, using language, intellect and performance, find a way to take them with him on a journey of change without them being gripped by fear.

He wasn't a bloke I watched on TV. As a radio journalist, I was usually standing just behind his shoulder, my arm wrapped around him with my microphone being supported. I had to make sure my microphone wasn't in range of the cameras, because the camera crew got stroppy about that. It was a real physical proximity, and it's one which few people encounter in their workplace. You do get to see people up really close. I got to study the back of his head and his ear at various close quarters as I recorded every word. I had a moment of horror last year when, along with two other former press gallery journalists, Anna Grutzner and Christine Wallace, I was talking to some politics students at ANU and realised we were probably considered primary historical sources for the Hawke years.

The member for Lingiari's comments really resonated with me earlier today, about the way that the caucus and that government worked and the incredible people who made up the team led by Bob Hawke. My recollection is that Hawke exuded energy. I saw someone gathering people to him to work through issues, to reform whole industries, like footwear and clothing, in the fairest way. I saw women being given roles. I saw warmth and respect for people from all walks of life. I saw fierce debates of ideas, which I recall as being much more issues driven than personality driven. And, as the member for Lingiari noted, I do recall how long some of those cabinet meetings went, because the media were all hanging around waiting for them to end—but at least in those days parliament had a non-members bar!

Bob's body language was rich and not always effectively captured by radio. On the days I covered question time, he would inevitably glance up at the press gallery—it was all smaller and closer than it is in here—and, before he delivered a mischievous line or a key remark, I swear you could see his eyes sparkle and a cheeky grin just at the edge of his mouth. At regular early-morning doorstops, where it wasn't pre-arranged as it is these days and we were just there in the hope that someone would say something, my reporter's heart would lift when his car pulled up at the front steps, because it meant I'd likely have a grab for radio that morning. I recall that, while he was often fantastic media talent, there were also media conferences where I'd take my tape back to the office and have to do a lot of rolling edits to edit out long pauses to get my 30-second grab.

So he was formative for me in my experiences of being a young journalist. I did my first overseas reporting trip with Hawke to New Zealand to meet Prime Minister David Lange for ANZUS discussions. The first time I flew on the VIP with him was to the special Commonwealth heads of government meetings in London in 1986 to consider the recommendations of the eminent persons group on economic sanctions against South Africa, where British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and he did not see eye to eye. In the 1987 election campaign, I jumped into a Chinook with him as the pool radio reporter to cover an announcement relating to his plan to see the Daintree receive World Heritage listing, which he achieved in 1988. He loomed large in my life, a big personality, and to see him on the international stage in later years, when I was a journalist in New York and London—his intelligence, his ability to have Australia stand tall alongside much bigger nations—was something that made you proud to be an Australian.

After nearly 20 years away from the political sphere, I became re-acquainted with Bob in 2010 when he generously agreed to launch my first campaign. He came to Windsor, not an area known for its Labor roots, and after the official proceedings, which included him singing Happy Birthday to me to mark that day, we took off down Windsor Mall. As other speakers have noted, it wasn't long before one recognised him and word went out. He was mobbed, and the love for him from people of all political persuasions was palpable. Having lost the 2010 election, I sought advice from Bob: any suggestions on what I should do differently? His re