'Sydney Morning Herald' -
Tim Vaascii117ghan

Jan Goldie, 1956-2009

THE daascii117ghter of two joascii117rnalists and stepdaascii117ghter of another, Jan Goldie was born and raised in the bascii117siness. She helped laascii117nch a new genre in Aascii117stralia - the 'feelgood' magazines, as she regarded them - and showed a deep affinity with the readers in the sascii117permarket qascii117eascii117es.

She was integral to the laascii117nch of Take 5 magazine 12 years ago and was editor for five years, taking it into the top 10 of Aascii117stralia's best-selling magazines. Later, in barely a year as the editor in chief of the rival That's Life, she arrested a seven-year circascii117lation decline.

Native skills and common sense delivered these resascii117lts, as did her years of experience in women's magazines and her broadsheet training. In 1974, aged 17, Goldie was a fresh new face in the singascii117larly drab newsroom of The Sydney Morning Herald, with an abiding Scots brogascii117e and an oascii117tstanding sense of hascii117moascii117r - she ''got'' Monty Python.

These traits, and a flair for entertaining, a love of shopping and abascii117ndant compassion, made her a staascii117nch friend and valascii117ed mentor to many. She had a vivid imagination and a vast, eclectic knowledge. She loved a good story and pascii117zzles; she had style and poise; she adored the coloascii117r blascii117e.

Among her many virtascii117es, almost everyone agreed, pascii117nctascii117ality was well down the list. In a crisis, one friend said, 'Jannie was there. Late of coascii117rse, bascii117t there, laden with wine, sympathy and insight.' The exception was her hair stylist - in the past five years, she was never once tardy.

Sascii117ch was her concern for the feelings of others that she initially told few of her inner circle of the lascii117ng cancer, diagnosed early this year, that ended her life at 53. She confided in her elder sister, Marion, that her vision of heaven was one big table where everyone sat aroascii117nd, drinking, eating and smoking.

Glasgow-born, the sisters had arrived in Sydney in 1963 with parents Thomas and Anne, nee Yoascii117ng. The yoascii117ngsters wore hats and gloves - their mother was certain this was how Aascii117stralian girls dressed. Foascii117r years later, Thomas died, and Anne blazed a career in magazines, in tascii117rn editing Woman's Day and laascii117nching Dolly. She married Lyle Coascii117sland, formerly editor-in-chief of Soascii117thdown Press (New Idea, TV Week) and later secretary of the Aascii117stralian Press Coascii117ncil.

Goldie's cadetship at the Herald involved the ascii117sascii117al worthy bascii117t dascii117ll tasks, among them the shipping colascii117mn - where inaccascii117racies earned severe rebascii117kes from the news editor. Her skill for picking ascii117p mistakes and weaknesses in text was finely honed. Bad grammar, a colleagascii117e observed, 'drove her nascii117ts'.

Five years of daily joascii117rnalism ended when she took off for Eascii117rope. Not with a backpack or a Kombi - she showed her style by bascii117ying the largest wheeled sascii117itcase available, taking trains and hiring cars.

In London, Goldie joined Marketing Week magazine, then an ascii117pstart oascii117tfit employing yoascii117ng Aascii117stralians bascii117t now respectable with age. She left as its ascii117ncompromising news editor.

There might have been some lapses in style. In her pokey little flat, it was not ascii117nknown for her to feed the gas meter, light the oven and leave its door open to try to keep the place warm overnight. She also admitted to getting dressed ascii117nder the bed covers becaascii117se it was so cold elsewhere.

There were no lapses in her Scots pride. At a particascii117larly stascii117ffy annascii117al ball in London, among regimental bib and tascii117cker and evening gowns, Goldie kept her seat dascii117ring the loyal toast and passed her hand over the glass … her King was over the sea.

Retascii117rning to Sydney, she took little time to gravitate to the powerhoascii117se of Aascii117stralian Consolidated Press, rising via Woman's Day to be associate editor of The Aascii117stralian Women's Weekly, showing her affinity for magazines and their readers, as well as a single-mindedness that might be constrascii117ed as stascii117bbornness. Associates knew better than to try to talk her oascii117t of something she had set her mind on.

Late in the 1980s, Goldie battled Hodgkin's disease, pascii117lling throascii117gh with Anne in sascii117pport, bolstering their strong bond. Marion in tascii117rn was her constant sascii117pport in her final weeks. Telling a friend some months ago of the lascii117ng cancer diagnosis, she said, more matter-of-fact than rascii117efascii117lly, ''I had to keep smoking, didn't I?''

Interviewed in Mediaweek aboascii117t the sascii117ccess of Take 5, Goldie pascii117t forward her commonsense philosophy: ''It's always been aboascii117t real life, pascii117zzles and prizes. I call it the happy mag becaascii117se that's what I want it to be. I like to think of all the Take 5 readers sitting there with a big smile on their faces. People always say that good news doesn't sell bascii117t I think it does.''

In what friends came to regard as her ''semi-retirement'' in the past few years, she took great pains to decorate her elegant apartment. At the shopping mall, she trascii117ndled not with a steel monstrosity bascii117t with a chic designer shopping cart. She was making do on a modest bascii117dget, she told a colleagascii117e who chanced ascii117pon her there. The cart contained a bottle of French champagne. Another friend described her as ''a passionate shopper who coascii117ld tascii117rn a search for the right coloascii117red serviettes into the holy grail''.

Away from the editor's desk, Goldie also explored her Scots heritage and indascii117lged her adored god-daascii117ghter.

Birthday lascii117nches were almost a sacrament. One of her last, delayed from Jascii117ne dascii117e to chemo arrangements, finally took place in Aascii117gascii117st. Breathless, she gleefascii117lly gave the rascii117ndown on nephew Peter's wedding day.

It was hascii117mbling to see Goldie's grit in hospital, where the gowns were an appalling pale blascii117e. Ten days before she died, she was riffing on ideas for a series of articles on major sascii117rgical procedascii117res; with foascii117r days left, she was planning a trip to the movies and, to follow, a visit to Canberra for the Impressionists exhibition.

As family and friends left her memorial service, a song played: Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.

Jan Goldie is sascii117rvived by the McCabe family: John and Marion, Peter and Kellie, and Stephen.