For decades, I planned to find a way to apologise to Gough Whitlam for misquoting him.
The opportunity never presented itself. It's too late now, of course.
I was reliably informed at the time that he had been outraged. It was not so much that he had been misquoted per se - for that has been the fate of all politicians since time immemorial.
What made him mad - and he had a formidable temper - was that he had been quoted as using contemptible language far below the dignity of a man who treasured the correct - and cutting - use of the English language.
The occasion was November 11, 1976, the first anniversary of Gough's sacking. (It's been impossible for years now to think of calling him anything but "Gough" and for those who remember those days his Christian name is enough to evoke powerful memories.)
The setting was the lawns at the front of the old wedding cake Parliament House. There was a sizeable crowd marking the anniversary, protesting the sacking and calling for the great man himself to make an appearance.
In his own time, Gough deigned to emerge from within and I was there to report his regal progress among the faithful.
A year before, I had been part of the crowd on the front steps to witness David Smith prorogue the Parliament and to hear Gough urge boisterous protesters to "maintain your rage and enthusiasm". The emblematic photograph of that event shows a young, lank-haired reporter in wire-rimmed aviator spectacles looking somewhat gormlessly over the great man's right shoulder. That is me thinking that this might, perhaps, be the most memorable day of my professional life.
So, when a year later Gough made his appearance on the lawns I felt we shared at least a modicum of history - indeed, as Prime Minister he had once had me banned from his office for being a "cheeky young fellow".
As he walked among the delighted protesters, I asked him why he was no longer urging them to "maintain the rage".
Gough looked over my head (no easy task for most people, since I am 6ft 4ins), turned to his entourage and said: "Who is this piss head?". That is what I clearly heard.
Startled, I wrote this down in my notebook and repeated the question which he again did not deign to answer.
Back at The Canberra Times, I mentioned the incident to my editor, Ian Matthews, who asked me if I had heard clearly and accurately recorded the words. I assured him I had and he said I should write up the day's events and include the exchange: "Go and write it as it happened. Don't embroider it, write it straight," he said.
The next day's paper caused a stir in the now-Opposition Leader's office.
The Canberra Times, always a stickler for correcting errors, stood by the report and I suspect that Ian Matthews copped a reasonable amount of opprobrium from Gough's office although he never bothered me with it.
The essence of the denial was that Gough would never have used such crude language - the phrase was simply beneath his dignity and his lexicon. The word Gough had used, it was argued, was "pissant", an "insignificant or contemptible person or thing", according to the OED. Still crude, I would argue, but more literate and linguistically up-scale. More Gough.
I strongly defended my reporting and was convinced I had heard correctly but over the years I have become far less certain. If Gough had said "pissant", then it was the first time that I had heard the word used. The thrust of his comment was certainly clear enough but I would not have known exactly what the word meant.
Say the words "piss head" or "pissant" among a cheerful, noisy and boisterous crowd and you might not be able to tell the difference.
Thirty-eight years later I am inclined to give Gough the benefit of the doubt.
I regret the fact that it is too late to apologise - not for misquoting him but for what must have seemed little short of an act of lese majeste.
There is little doubt that Gough could be forgiving. He certainly forgave Malcolm Fraser in later years.
And at a lesser level, he might have forgiven me, too.
A few years back, my partner went along to the old war horse's office in Sydney with that emblematic photograph of David Smith, Gough Whitlam and me (yes, there were quite a few others there and I was only on the edge) on the steps of Parliament House. She told him I was still a reporter, still on the job and as fervent about it as ever.
She asked him to sign it for me as a gift.
His inscription did not mention anything about "rage" but I can forgive him for that. Perhaps he remembered and forgave the reporter who misquoted him.
He wrote: "Peter, Maintain the enthusiasm. Gough."
Peter George was a reporter for The Canberra Times in 1976. He was later a correspondent for the ABC.
