Michele Hewitson Interview: Bill Francis

Bill Francis says he can't remember a time when he has had to raise his voice. Photo / Paul Estcourt

Bill Francis, NewstalkZB's general manager, is about to, sort of, not quite retire, so he had what he calls a "soiree" in his honour on Monday night.

Last Friday he went to another bash: the sports awards, where he was given a Lifetime Contribution to Sport through Journalism Award.

It's possible you don't know who he is. He has almost no public profile. He snorted when I asked. "Does it matter?"

That might have been the follow-up question. "No. I suppose I'm well known in the radio industry; probably not very well known by the wider public." He might be the least famous, best-connected bloke around. He has photographs of himself with Helen Clark and Paul Holmes and other famous types in his office.

He knows everyone and is obviously a very powerful and influential man about town. He thought that a question about how much influence he had was a joke. "Not great. I've helped shape and maintain a heritage radio station that is the best in the country."

Well, he is, as he says, "a company man". But I don't believe him when he bats away any examination of his influence. He is controller-in-chief of what listeners hear on his radio empire. So I thought I'd better go to see him before he shuffles off to spend his days in his slippers. That is a joke. He's only 62 and he has the energy levels of the classic news man, which is to say he's still as keen as a whippet about sticking his nose into everything.

He listens to his radio station from the minute he wakes up, at quarter to six, until he goes to bed about 10. He says, to reassure both of us: "I've known the odd broadcaster who has departed into the distance and then becomes the caller from Te Atatu North. That will never be me."

He'll stay on at the radio network, for 25 hours a week, in one of those, as he puts it, "ubiquitous consulting roles". Meaning he'll do very little while getting paid a lot? "Not at all," he says. "I'll be very busy and most attentive to the business."

He said this in a mock pompous way, which he failed to carry off by laughing as he attempted it. But he will be very busy and most attentive, have no doubt about that, it's what he does.

He has stage-managed his own exit. This is a talent of his and he's honed it over the years because he likes to see people go from the industry "with dignity". Think of his great mate, Paul Holmes' sort-of, not-quite retirement from NewstalkZB, which took place over a couple of years and which means he still does a weekly slot.

"The Paul Holmes succession is one of the things that I've done in leadership and, from my own perspective, I've always thought that's the way I want to go."

He says, sounding slightly startled at the thought, that "I've done 45 years". Then, "which is quite a long time". I don't believe for a minute he thinks this is a long time. He probably really thinks "only 45 years" and when you meet him he is in many ways just as you imagine he was as a 17-year-old fresh-faced cadet, in love with the wireless.

What he fell in love with was, "well, it's cliched now, but the sort of theatre of the mind, I suppose". When he was at secondary school he went on a school trip to a Wellington radio station and an announcer, "a big, ebullient guy, came out of the studio. I think he had a yellow tie on and he talked to us and he was so full of life and fun and I thought, 'this is magic'."

Did he also think: That's what radio people are like? "Yeah, and they are. When I joined ... I was a copy writer. The copy department was a very interesting mixture of people, including the copy supervisor who was one night seen in the main street of Masterton in high heels and a frock. I mean, that's okay. But he was a bloke! That was a pretty weird and wonderful world."

Francis was on the radio for 20 years as a sports reporter, but the man who would go on to make stars was never a star himself. He might have got a bit huffy at so blunt a summation of his on-air years, but he is not a man who huffs. He knows what talent is, and he knew he didn't have it, but what is it exactly? "I probably, vocally, wasn't strong enough. But I was much more of an extrovert on air so I obviously have some performance qualities. You see a lot of that in radio and broadcasting: The classic extrovert/introvert types, who are extrovert on air but not so much when they're off air. And I don't regard myself as an introverted person in any way."

Which is a polite way of saying most radio stars are complicated characters with volatile egos. "Yeah, it's interesting. That's because these people have some sort of performance quality about them. And off air they become doubtful about whether the qualities they display on air are adequate enough. So the insecurities come through."

He was never insecure enough to be a star. "Well, that could have been the case."

He likes to describe himself as the radio policeman, a role which, you might imagine, would become wearying. You'd think that dealing with all of those starry egos and insecurities would drive you batty after so many years, but he likes it, because it's what he's good at: "Managing talent".

He, who is not at all difficult, who is "comfortable in my own skin", who has a happy relationship with his own ego, likes difficult people. "I'm very comfortable with them."

But why is he? "I don't know. I come from a big family ... of 10, which was made more interesting by the fact that there were three sets of twins. I'm in the middle. My mother, who was a pretty marvellous woman, had a facility to make each of her children special. And so managing a wide range of personalities and people's egos and all that sort of thing never really concerned me very much. I treated them all as individuals and tried to work out what made them tick. I think I probably learned that stuff at my mother's knee."

Other skills he learned at his mother's knee - how to darn, how to garden, how to look after a baby. All of these might be metaphorical descriptions of parts of his job. He doesn't say so, but big, happy families can also foster absolute loyalty, a trait for which he is known and loved by his staff. He stood by Tony Veitch, and still does. He said: "He'll come back one day, he deserves another chance, that is my belief." That might not be a popular belief. "According to the data we've collected he should be brought back immediately."

Why hasn't he been then?

"Well, watch this space."

If that sounds like a veiled announcement, remember the other thing, he's very good at is PR. He said: "No, no. I'm just saying I've made the point that I think Tony has done his time and he should be able to be rehabilitated into what he does and what he's good at."

What a funny job he has. When people meet him, what they want to know is what the stars are really like. You can guess what he says: That they're all lovely, good, decent people. The one thing everyone wants to know is: Are Mike [Hosking] and Kate [Hawkesby] together? I couldn't, really, give a damn but I can pretend to be from a woman's mag. "I think it's fairly obvious."

He is pretty hopeless, from my point of view, and extremely adept from his, at not blabbing about anyone, including himself.

I was interested in his politics because he runs, I say, a right-wing radio station. "A little." How much? "It would recognised by the audience as reasonably right-wing."

So how right-wing is he? "It doesn't matter." It does, because I want to know. "Well, it's immaterial. What's material is what the hosts are doing and whether they're doing it in a way that attracts audiences."

He is right-wing then. "I would say that that is something you would definitely not describe me as. Categorically." I tried again later. A pinkie leftie then. "Bugger off."

About that "soiree" - which, from what I know about journalists and dos with plonk, is obviously a euphemism: Did everyone behave? "Ha, ha, absolutely, Michele. You know broadcasters. There are some things I don't need out of the bag."

People share confidences with him; he offered me his secret apple cake recipe.

He is, according to Bill Ralston, "one of the great gentlemen of the radio industry".

"Oh, Jesus. Where he conjured that up from I don't know. Well, it is very nice but I don't go around seeking those sorts of compliments."

He is also, I suggested, part psychologist, as well as part policeman and great gentleman. He said,"I suppose it's a little bit of what I do."

A little bit. He's dealt with dipsos and breakups and meltdowns and, no doubt, tantrums. He's the straight guy who stays on the rails when others fly off them.

He has never shouted, he doesn't think he's ever even raised his voice. He's been married for 38 years. He believes in wine in moderation, and exercise. He is learning to cook and to do the salsa. He says, of his stars, "they're human beings; they've got frailties as, I suppose, we all have".

Of course he hasn't got any, I said, a bit snidely. "Ha, Ha. No! No! Probing bloody journalist."

I did my best. But you try interviewing a policeman, psychologist and confidence keeper. And the really annoying thing about him is that he manages to be hell to interview and utterly engaging. I'm going to consider it a victory that I got out of his office with the promise of a cake recipe - and without telling him my life story.