One of the more memorable moments in Les Andrews' broadcasting career was almost his last.
During a live Anzac Day broadcast from the Auckland Museum, he decided he needed a better view. The only suitable spot was on the roof. So he climbed up, crossed a balcony, slipped and came within a whisker of falling through a glass facade and on to the marble floor 24m below. He continued the broadcast with a St John Ambulance lady "picking glass out of his bum", recalls broadcasting contemporary Merv Smith.
"That's so typically Les. I used to call him Leisurely Andrews. Nothing ever fazed him. He just strolled on."
Andrews spent much of his World War II service in the Libyan desert and Italy building railway lines and bridges, cleaning out ablution blocks, collecting food rations and performing guard duty, but his true talents were unearthed thanks to a chance encounter in a wartime basement music room.
Legend has it Andrews was providing the vocals for a piano-playing tank driver when Lieutenant-General Bernard Freyberg came in. General Freyberg asked Les why he wasn't in the Kiwi Concert Party, to which he replied: "I'm buggered if I know".