ZB: The Voice Of An Iconic Radio Station

To the breakfast stars:

Phil Shone

Merv Smith

Paul Holmes

—who for 65 of the past 70 years have given 1ZB an unassailable ascendancy at the start to each day.

And to Leighton Smith, who more consistently than anyone has carried the dominance on.

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Dedication

INTRODUCTION

ONE Growing pains (the first decade, 1926—1936)

TWO Along the Friendly Road

THREE The irreverent radio reverend

FOUR The birth of commercial radio

FIVE The studios of 1ZB

SIX Waking up to the breakfast stars

SEVEN Ladies of the day (and night)

EIGHT Riding radio’s golden era (1950s and 1960s)

Photographic Insert

NINE 1ZB making the news

TEN Competition hits home (1970s and 1980s)

ELEVEN The good sports

TWELVE Here is the news

THIRTEEN Brent’s baby: the format change

FOURTEEN Talking back

MILESTONES

Acknowledgements

Bibliography

Index

About the Author

Also by Bill Francis:

Copyright

About the Publisher

INTRODUCTION

‘This is your feature station—1ZB.’ Like a clarion call, the announcement rang out around New Zealand, proclaiming something unique. Here was a conjurer of the radio variety, ready to pull something out of the hat to warm and lighten up the evening. The term ‘feature station’ referred specifically to the ‘feature serials’ that so dominated in those early days of radio. However, it also implied, and rightly so, that this was a radio station of ‘specialness’—one to sit up and take notice of, and it has continued that way for 80 years.

Those who know a bit about radio history will recall that 1ZB was the first commercial radio station in New Zealand, and so will regard October 2006 as the station’s 70th anniversary. But prior to that, there was a decade when 1ZB existed under various owners, and in this time at least two momentous events occurred that helped shape the radio station’s future.

The first, in 1933, was the purchase of the station by the twin reverends, Garland and Scrimgeour, for the princely sum of the proceeds of the sale of Scrimgeour’s wife’s piano. Just two years later, with the country about to go to the polls, a broadcast by Scrimgeour (known on the radio by now as Uncle Scrim) was jammed at the direction of the government of the day, which was concerned about the influence Scrim’s broadcast might have on the election result.

These events are clearly part of the story of 1ZB, and therefore its history starts in 1926, not 1936.

In 1936 Scrim became the first controller of commercial radio (for all New Zealand), thereby setting a path for 1ZB (and other stations) that included many facets of radio commercialism that remain in existence today.

While the era of Uncle Scrim and Uncle Tom (Garland) might have been considered pioneering and ground-breaking at the time, it was merely the start of a model for success that has gone on and on. 1ZB has been the home of many of the great broadcasters. Aunt Daisy was a contemporary of both Scrim and Tom. She knew Phil Shone, who knew Merv Smith. And then there was the controversial change to the talk format—Newstalk 1ZB—that ushered in a broadcasting genius in the form of Paul Holmes, along with Leighton Smith and others. These names are just a splattering amongst the famous, the infamous, the wild, and the not-so-wild men and women who have made their mark at 1ZB. And all of them knew they were on to a winner.

In attracting audience size, 1ZB is the most successful New Zealand radio station ever. It has consistently been number one in Auckland for most of its history, shutting out year after year the ever-growing number of competitors—44 radio stations at the last count. In terms of revenue return, it is arguably the most successful, although it hasn’t always been the most profitable, particularly in its time as part of a state-owned broadcaster. Overseas consultants and observers say this is as good a radio station as you will find anywhere—a world-class broadcaster.

An anniversary is an appropriate time to reflect on history, but the inspiration for writing 1ZB’s story came more from a phone call I received from Newstalk ZB’s basement work garage a couple of years ago. ‘Bill,’ said the caller, ‘you might be interested in a large box of old photographs about to be tossed onto a rubbish skip, ready for removal.’ Safely housed back in my office, I hungrily searched through its contents, which revealed a treasure trove of black and white photographs of the famous personalities of bygone eras (and some of the infamous as well).

So began a fascinating process of research and writing. At the end of the book, the large numbers of people who helped me are duly acknowledged, but some warrant special mention. At the outset I was told that an early secretary of Colin Scrimgeour was still around: ‘She’s 92, still got all her marbles, and her name is Irene Collyns.’ ‘How will I contact her?’ I asked the source. ‘Oh, just send her an email,’ was the reply. By that afternoon, Irene had replied (by email) with a full page of fascinating material (in addition to telling me she was still driving a car).

Irene had some major redeeming features for anyone researching 1ZB’s history. Not only was she Scrim’s trusted secretary (and still holding a considerable amount of his personal correspondence), but she had married a 1ZB announcer, Arthur Collyns. Arthur himself had written up extensive notes on his time in radio, which Irene kindly gave me. Irene also had a bent for research: ask her a question and within 24 hours she would have searched, telephoned and questioned to get the right answer. Irene was a revelation.

Some say you can’t get good help these days, but that’s not my experience. Rachel Lord, chief archivist at Sound Archives (since departed), presided over a staggering national asset at her headquarters in Christchurch, and she, along with members of her staff, couldn’t have been more accommodating. The same goes for Emma Hart at Radio New Zealand’s library in Wellington.

It was a special privilege to talk to the old-time administrators, announcers, programmers, journalists and technicians, some now in less than robust health. Barry Simeon (‘Barry Knight’) and journalist Ray Willmot both died soon after I interviewed them. Spending a morning with Nance Shone, Phil’s widow, was equally nostalgic and illuminating, and talking to Buzz Perkins’ widow, Helen, was revealing. Hilton Porter’s daughter, Patti, came calling from Australia with a fascinating portfolio of material.

Radio history is not over-endowed with written material, but in its slowly growing library Patrick Day’s definitive two-volume set, A History of Broadcasting in New Zealand, provided especially valuable background sources. The same can be said for John Herbert Hall’s The History of Broadcasting in New Zealand, 1920–1954—an elegantly written tome full of interesting developmental stories. When it came to illustrations, early photographers proved difficult to acknowledge, but in the days before television—when black and white images told a million stories—these snappers did a wonderful job of preserving a colourful part of New Zealand’s history.

At HarperCollins, managing editor Kate Stone and contract editor Lynne Richardson provided expertise and support in finessing the final product, a pleasure to work with, as were other members of the HarperCollins team.

At The Radio Network, much-respected CEO John McElhinney willingly supported another one of my writing ventures. Peter Everatt, friend and close radio confidant, delivered backing as always, whilst my personal assistant, Anne-Marie Gibson, performed a multitude of tasks to help ease the burden on a busy work life and a weekend writing job.

Finally, the 1ZB story could never have been written without the total encouragement and love, as always, of my wife Mary.

Many hundreds of people have worked at 1ZB over the past 80 years, in the main bringing fun, entertainment and information to hundreds of thousands of listeners. This ‘calling’ can’t be compared to microscopic heart surgery, delivering a new-born baby into the world, or maintaining export growth for the benefit of the country’s economy. But one thing we do know is that for eight decades 1ZB has relieved the burden of the daily grind, given people something else to think about, and, of course, today provides a medium with which to interact and participate.

In the workplace and behind the microphone, it has attracted funny, interesting, vibrant people, all with a love of radio coursing through their veins. This then, above all, is a story about radio people and how their joie de vivre has beguiled and impacted on the lives of so many listeners for so long.

Bill Francis

Waiheke Island

2006

ONE

Growing pains

(the first decade, 1926—1936)

To the uninitiated, 29 October 1936 is marked down as the start-up date for 1ZB, and under the auspices of the National Broadcasting Service this is true. But the use of the call sign 1ZB pre-dates the commercial service by 10 years. In that decade of transmission, the station was controlled by various owners under the 1ZB banner, and was notable not only for providing one of the most significant names in the history of broadcasting, but also for being involved in the most outrageous act ever carried out against a New Zealand radio station.

A national broadcasting system had started as early as 1925 when the government of the day got into bed with the Radio Broadcasting Company (RBC). This enabled four stations in the main centres—known as the YAs—to begin a tradition, still going, of public service radio. The regulations enacted at the time also allowed for stations other than those run by the RBC. One of these was 1YB in Auckland.

The ‘B’ stations had picked up their title from Australia, where stations were divided into ‘A’ stations, supported by licence fees from listeners, and ‘B’ stations, which were backed by advertising. New Zealand ‘B’ stations, however, were at a serious disadvantage to their Australian counterparts—they were not allowed to advertise. They were also back-footed by the fact that they transmitted on much less power than the ‘A’ stations.

In Auckland, 1YB was joined in 1926 by 1YD (later renamed 1YQ). These two ‘non-government’ stations both broadcast for only a few hours each week. Also that year, all the non-RBC ‘Y’ stations became ‘Z’s, and the 1ZB call sign was heard for the first time.

Most of these ‘Z’ stations transmitted when the RBC stations were off-air, with 1ZB broadcasting between the hours of 7.00 p.m. and 10.00 p.m. on a Monday night. Despite transmission hours being grossly in favour of the YAs, there was a strongly competitive streak between the RBC stations and the ‘Z’ stations—much like there is today.

The ‘Z’ stations laboured under their various vulnerabilities. All had been set up by enthusiasts for a plethora of reasons: some tried to cash in on the likelihood of a booming radio ™ many were radio hobbyists, or passionate amateurs; others altruistically sought to provide radio to unserviced areas. Even given their considerable disadvantages, almost without exception they were united against the RBC.

1YB (later 1ZB) had been licensed to the proprietor, Charles Pearson, in September 1923. This licence was then reissued to La Gloria Gramophone Company almost two years later, before the call sign change to 1ZB on 9 August 1926. Charles Pearson continued to own the station until a momentous change in 1ZB’s history occurred in early 1933.

For much of its 80 years, 1ZB has been the leader and frequent innovator of Auckland and New Zealand radio, but this was certainly not the case in the early 1930s as it struggled to survive under rules and regulations that were incompatible with growth and development.

In 1932 the government had moved again on broadcasting by establishing the New Zealand Broadcasting Board (NZBB) to replace the RBC. While the government ensured the future of licensed, government-controlled stations, it showed little desire—at least at this stage—to legislate the ‘B’ stations out of existence.

The 1ZB-style stations were still handicapped by not being able to advertise, although it was now possible to run sponsored programmes. Most formed ‘radio clubs’. One Auckland station, Lewis Eady’s 1ZR, was reported in 1934 as having a paid-up membership of 2,000, a figure that at times reached 4,000. 1ZR had effectively tapped into religious broadcasting of a non-denominational, informal style that catered for both adults and children.

The age-old needs of any attention-grabbing radio station include fresh ideas along with talented, personality broadcasters. 1ZR, recognising this, quickly signed up the Reverend Thomas Garland, formerly with 1YA, as exactly the right man to lead them down a new path. Garland was particularly adept with children’s sessions, and introduced children’s choirs to radio.

Only weeks into 1ZR’s existence, Garland was joined by a fellow minister, the Reverend Colin Scrimgeour. Garland had previously invited Scrimgeour (who had his pilot’s licence) into his 1YA session to talk about his experience of flying through a rainbow. Scrimgeour now started broadcasting on the children’s session at 1ZR where he became ‘Uncle Scrim’.

‘Personality’ and ‘talent’ are modern-day, over-used media terms that are frequently bandied about, but as early as 1932 the 1ZR station director was describing Scrimgeour as ‘an outstanding personality of Auckland broadcasting’.

Significantly for the future of radio, during 1932 both Garland and Scrimgeour resigned their previous jobs to become full-time employees of 1ZR. Essential to the continuing success of the station was Scrimgeour’s keenness to build on Garland’s original ideas for non-denominational services, and together they created the ‘Fellowship of the Friendly Road’. By 1933 Scrimgeour was also broadcasting a Sunday night programme, ‘Man in the Street’, that was soon the equivalent of the modern-day ratings winner. This session had a ‘caring curate’ tone about it, offering succour to the ordinary man as he battled the deprivations of those Depression years.

But Garland’s and Scrimgeour’s battles were only just starting. Providing more problems for the ‘B’ stations was a hardening of attitudes by the regulators to sponsoring of programmes. 1ZQ was unceremoniously closed down after the owner continued to disregard the sponsorship limits. In June 1933, the 1ZR proprietors were also ordered to suspend broadcasting for breaches of the regulations, and were also accused of carrying advertising. 1ZR was off-air for a week before negotiations resolved matters. The Minister of Broadcasting may also have been influenced by a protest meeting at the Auckland Town Hall which drew 1,500 people and showed the public’s support for this type of broadcasting.

With the resumption of transmission, many in government circles and the public service began to regard Scrimgeour as dangerous. Later that year, the Postmaster-General decided to ban any form of sponsored programme. Under this pressure and likely claims from the record companies, 1ZR’s Lewis Eady sold the station to the government for £2,200, and despite promises by the government to keep the station on-air for some time, it was promptly closed down.

By this time Charles Pearson’s 1ZB was one of the oldest stations still in existence in New Zealand, and it was to Pearson that Garland and Scrimgeour turned to keep the Friendly Road broadcasting. A variety of versions abound over the amount needed for the sale. Garland was supposed to have made the purchase for £50 with a £5 deposit. Scrimgeour said he sold his wife’s piano (without her permission) to buy the station for £100, and biographer Les Edwards, in Scrim: Radio Rebel in Retrospect, records him buying 1ZB for £40.

With the station bought, the question remained whether the government would transfer the licence to the Friendly Road. Authorities regarded Scrim with deep suspicion; some thought him an insurgent. The NZBB had also assumed a pose that was to characterise broadcasting board attitudes for the best part of half a century: ‘No individual or religious body should be given a monopoly or quasi-monopoly in broadcasting from any station. The potential power given to any person granted can be realised, we feel, only by those experienced in broadcasting.’

The Friendly Road by this time had what most radio stations crave: a loyal following prepared to fight for the station’s existence. A public meeting in December 1933 attracted 14,000 to Carlaw Park, where Uncle Tom led the crowd in community singing and Uncle Scrim spoke. This was followed by a meeting at night at the Auckland Town Hall, with over 6,000 listening to the service through a public address system. Just to affirm this support, MPs were then bombarded by a letter-writing campaign insisting that the Friendly Road broadcasting programmes be reinstated. The Prime Minister (George Forbes) alone received over 2,500 letters.

Capitulation by the government was not far off, but first an offer was made for the Friendly Road to join a roster on the 1YA religious broadcasts. The Friendly Road wouldn’t have a bar of this, so the government then approved the transfer of the 1ZB licence to the Friendly Road, and permission was granted for the power output to be raised by 200 watts.

Despite the granting of the licence, incremental progress had to be prised out of the authorities. The first issue to be addressed was longer broadcasting hours. By the middle of May 1934, 1ZB had permission to broadcast the following hours: Monday to Saturday, 9.00–9.30 a.m. and 10.15–11.00 a.m.; Tuesday to Friday, 6.00–7.00 p.m. and 8.00–10.00 p.m.; and Sunday, 9.00 a.m. to noon and 6.30–9.30 p.m. This extension—grudgingly granted—was certainly not designed to provide continuity, and dissatisfied the station’s loyal listeners.

Nevertheless, 1ZB’s, and in particular Scrimgeour’s, influence continued to grow, and by 1935—with a general election looming—the government became increasingly alarmed at what it believed was a mounting propaganda campaign for political change being broadcast through the station. Scrimgeour had long enjoyed a close bond with the opposition leader, Michael Joseph Savage. Savage loved radio, saw its potential, and regarded Scrimgeour as a force to widen its capacity for entertainment and information.

All this led to a government-inspired decision to jam the 1ZB transmission during a Scrimgeour talk in the week prior to the 1935 General Election (detailed in Chapter Nine). The jamming failed to halt the tide for change though, and Labour, led by Savage, swept to power. This must have delighted Scrimgeour and 1ZB, because Labour had long been advocating the retention of the ‘B’ stations with better financial stability through either advertising or a percentage of the licence fee.

By now, 1ZB was in a parlous financial state, and in 1936 was close to insolvency. This prompted Scrimgeour to approach Savage for assistance, or at least a clear government policy direction from which they could plan their future. Before the new government’s Broadcasting Act was even introduced, the government agreed—amidst a veil of secrecy—to purchase 1ZB, granting a £750 deposit to keep the station on-air.

The Broadcasting Act 1936 abolished the NZBB and set up the National Broadcasting Service (NBS)—later to be renamed the New Zealand Broadcasting Service—but there was little detail therein as to what would happen to the ‘B’ stations. However, Savage soon made it clear that the government’s intention was to buy the stations, thereby putting all radio in public ownership. This was followed by Scrimgeour being appointed commercial controller after it was ascertained that the new Director of Broadcasting, James Shelley, not only had no expertise in commercial radio but even less interest. This meant Scrimgeour led a national broadcasting commercial service (established under the Broadcasting Amendment Act 1937) and Shelley was Controller of the NBS (effectively the non-commercial arm). They were both responsible to the same minister, but as separate government departments.

The purchase of the ‘B’ stations was not greeted with universal approval, with many of the owners outraged at the plan to remove their independence. Probably the least affected was 1ZB. The station had already been purchased by the government, and with Scrimgeour now the controller of all commercial radio their interests appeared to be well covered. There was, however, still dispute over the sale price, and while 1ZB received one of the highest prices paid, it was no more than a little over £2,000.

Meanwhile, 1ZB continued to broadcast from the Queen’s Arcade building in Auckland’s Queen Street as it prepared to become the first radio station to open under the National Commercial Broadcasting Service.

TWO

Along the Friendly Road

Tom Garland’s foresight that saw radio—the ‘modern day wonder’—as the ideal vehicle for the church gave the Friendly Road a place amongst Aucklanders that was as surprising as it was successful. This was a religious movement specifically aimed at broadcasting daily devotional talks and Sunday services. Its motto, ‘You go to your church, I’ll go to mine, but let’s walk along together,’ reflected its non-denominational position. Pivotal to its acceptance were the choirs, made up of both adults and children, which were constructed out of the mission to broadcast the Christian message in song. Aucklanders were captivated by the concept and became committed listeners for the next 35 years.

This success did not impress everyone. Alec O’Donoghue, the Auckland regional manager for National Radio, was incredulous that Aucklanders should take to its message in such numbers. O’Donoghue described the Friendly Road audience and followers as ‘a cult’, with its gospel message ‘swamped by the inflow of cash from its advertising ventures’. This commercial success, O’Donoghue haughtily conceded, would have increased tenfold in Christchurch, ‘the natural home of new religions’.

It was another piece of inspired thinking from Garland that brought the Reverend Colin Scrimgeour to the station. Employed as Auckland’s Methodist city missioner at the time, Scrimgeour left the mission after Garland urged him to join up with the Friendly Road. The two had met at the Strand Theatre in Queen Street where Scrimgeour held his Sunday evening services and Garland had previously conducted singing. Not only did Scrim become almost instantly famous for his ‘Man in the Street’ session, but it soon became obvious that here was the visionary to set the path for commercial radio as we know it. It was Scrim who chose the title, the Friendly