Behind the voice

While rumours of Radio New Zealand presenter Geoff Robinson's retirement have been rife, the `voice of the nation' says he's not going anywhere. Why can't he give it up? Marlborough Express reporters Cherie Howie and Maike van der Heide were among the Fairfax Media journalists who interviewed Robinson as part of a recent training course.

There is quiet bedlam in Radio New Zealand's Morning Report control room. A new story is breaking – there are more legal wranglings over the Hobbit movie, so the well-oiled Morning Report machine revs up a gear. A replacement script lands in front of veteran presenter Geoff Robinson seconds before he must read it. He does not bat an eyelid.

"Kia ora, it's seven minutes to nine." Almost 400,000 people have tuned in to this familiar voice this morning, the deep crisp, reliable voice that has been delivering the news to New Zealand listeners for nearly 40 years. At 65, Robinson thought he would hang up his headphones and collect the pension but he's 66 and still not ready to leave, despite persistent rumours to the contrary.

The truth is, retirement is "quite scary" for the veteran broadcaster. Britain-born Robinson, who came to New Zealand as a 21-year-old bank clerk, has for many Kiwis become completely entwined with his job. He and co-presenter Sean Plunkett are on the air every weekday from 6am till 9am.

In a post-show interview on a Wednesday morning, he struggles to describe much of a life beyond the microphone.

"I'm not a person with an enormous number of hobbies. I know that one morning I will wake up and think `I don't need this any more'. And I expect that will be in the next two to three years, but I don't know."

Robinson chuckles, relaxes his 1.8-metre frame into a chair, and eases into the unfamiliar role of the interviewee. His appearance matches his rounded vowels and impeccable manners. He has a neatly clipped silver beard and wears a diamond-patterned navy and maroon golfing vest. Prime ministers, small town heroes, the Dalai Lama – you name them, he's interviewed them.

"It's a privilege. It really is a privilege to do this job."

His authoritative status has led him to be the chosen narrator at several of the country's biggest funerals, from Charles Upham VC and Sir Charles Bennett, to Te Arikinui Dame Te Atairangikaahu and Sir Edmund Hillary.

As his daughter once said: "That's my dad, the voice of death."

Robinson has talked us through some of the most critical moments in recent history. From the 9/11 terrorist attacks in New York to the Outdoor Pursuits Centre canyoning deaths on the Mangatepopo River.

He says when he came in to the studio on the morning of 9/11, the editor told him to take over hosting the show. He wanted Robinson's authoritative and familiar voice behind the microphone.

Radio New Zealand National head of news Don Rood says Robinson is the station's "great constant".

"He is an elder statesman. But everything that is positive about that – he is gentlemanly. He can just keep up that seamless commentary that doesn't insult the intelligence."

Morning Report editor Martin Gibson, who has worked with Robinson for 15 years, says despite the daily pressure the two have never had a serious, full-volume disagreement. The older of the show's two regular presenters is a "stand out in a situation when you know you've got something big coming in".

Robinson learned this from his early mentor, BBC news producer Erik Stadlen. Stadlen had come to New Zealand to help establish Radio New Zealand's programmes in the mid-1970s.

The pair became friends. Robinson says Stadlen, an "interesting bird", introduced him to both single malt whiskies and public broadcasting philosophy.

Stadlen's formula was simple but has remained with Robinson ever since: "An interview is not necessarily a contest, most of the time you're just trying to get information from people. You don't have to be rude or derogatory."

He avoids the pit-bull style of questioning, which he says characterises talkback radio. Often Robinson is cast as the good cop to Plunkett's bad cop. Robinson is comfortable with that.

"I've always had difficulty with the phrase `hard question'. You can ask questions that are difficult to answer, politely." He says the trick to interviewing someone like the notoriously combative former MP Winston Peters is not to engage: "You don't let yourself get drawn into a debate with him. You're asking questions."

In the office, where he arrives at 4.45am each weekday, Robinson has a reputation for being very particular.

He uses his own headphones, drinks from the same mug ("I keep my germs to myself") and his approach is formal, echoing an earlier era. Robinson has seen his fair share of prime ministers, from Bill Rowling to John Key, and says they've become more "matey" in their approach. Modern leaders encourage first-name basis, but it's just not Robinson's style.

"You're the prime minister, I'm sorry – I'm going to say `Good morning, prime minister'."

Editor Gibson laughs as he watches Robinson through a glass studio partition. "He's probably reading the intro to see if there are any typos. He is very pedantic."

Robinson happily agrees and goes on to point out a mistake that irks him – the common confusion between the words `what' and `which'. Similarly, he has been in New Zealand for more than 40 years and passionately defends the country, but the Kiwi accent has failed to charm him. He stills speaks with a shadow of his native British accent, the very trait which endeared him to New Zealand broadcasting bosses hunting for the BBC sound in the 1970s.

But his three brothers in Britain struggle to hear any trace of Robinson's roots. To them, their brother sounds kiwi as. "From time to time they are quite rude about it".

Growing up in the southwest of London, born at Twickenham, Robinson unwittingly developed attributes which would help him achieve great success on the other side of the world. He credits a strict early-morning childhood routine for his punctuality, an undeniable asset in a role which requires him to be up at 4am each day and in the studio by 5am.

Yet even he has slept through the alarm at least once in his career. "Everyone sleeps in sometimes, there's no point getting your knickers in a knot about it."

In his late teens, Robinson's friends dispersed overseas and, bored, he did too. When he sailed into Wellington Harbour in 1965 he wondered why the roofs of the houses were all corrugated iron, so unlike the tiled roofs of his homeland.

He came to New Zealand as a bank clerk. However, he spotted a job advertisement in The Dominion that looked far more interesting: in broadcasting. The only catch was if he took the job, he would have to re-pay his 25 passage. The NZBC was not willing to bank on the talents of this unknown young man, and Robinson couldn't stump up the cash himself.

At a Wellington boarding house, Robinson met his wife Elizabeth, a teacher. They married in 1969.

After five years working at ANZ, Robinson saw another newspaper advertisement for a broadcasting job.

He took the job  and a pay cut  and took up a post as an announcer at Dunedin's 4ZB. On his first day, he sat at a microphone and imagined he was talking to his mother.

Robinson worked on both radio and television but he favoured radio because he felt it presented fewer barriers between the presenter and the listener. He felt at home in New Zealand, as part of a small pool of just three million people.

In 1976, Robinson began his early-morning ritual as presenter on Morning Report.

In 1979, he moved to read news on Radio New Zealand's commercial network.

In 1983, he swapped jobs with then Morning Report co-host Peter Sledmere and Robinson has been a constant ever since.

Back then, scripts were typed on seven-leafed "carbon paper sandwiches"  the bottom page was almost illegible. "We made sure we always got the top one."

The show was just an hour long, now it's three. Just two live interviews were broadcast every week, now Robinson and Plunkett do many more than that every day.

News arrived via teleprinters and the studio held little beyond the microphone.

Now Robinson's surroundings include two television screens constantly streaming BBC, Sky News and sport.

Google is at his fingertips but he does not describe himself as internet savvy: "I know what I need to know."

Robinson says he's not fond of the media's increasing celebrity focus, and the role of broadcaster as celebrity doesn't sit well with him.

Robinson doesn't see himself as a star of the show. "What I do is more important than who I am."

ROBINSON won't talk about other broadcasters, but some of his current and former colleagues are willing to talk about him.

Gibson, editor of Morning Report for more than 10 years, says Robinson is a breeze to produce. "If anything goes wrong, he's going to cover for me." In the studio, Robinson buzzes through to his editor and asks a question.

"See, ultimate professional  asking how to pronounce a name," says Gibson.

Morning Report former co-host Kim Hill, upon whom Robinson bestows the honour of causing the nearest thing to his only studio walk-out, described her colleague as sturdy and dependable.

"He's a rock," Hill says.

Robinson says the moment happened when Hill had former high-profile and controversial South African politician Pik Botha in the hot seat, and he objected to the grilling. Robinson said when the interview ended, Botha stormed out of the studio, urging him to "rein in" his colleague.

Robinson says relationships with co-hosts are like an "arranged marriage".

"We don't spend time outside of work together. I never have. We're not intimate buddies." Plunkett, his co-host of 13 years, says he's never seen Robinson lose his cool.

"I listened to him when I was 14 and I thought I would like to do that job. Even now I still pinch myself sometimes," says Plunkett.
"It's difficult to imagine doing the show without Geoff."

Reports about Robinson leaving started when he turned 65, but Robinson is adamant he's not going anywhere yet. "When I was 65 I thought I might retire but I got there and I didn't feel like it," he says.

"I know that one morning I'll wake up and think I don't need this anymore and I imagine this will be in the next two or three years.
"One day, when I'm ready."

In the meantime, Robinson still enjoys waking up the nation. "I know I'm talking to people in bed. I presume you choose who you wake up with so that's a compliment. I have people listening in the shower for God's sake. I mean, get a life." He recalls how former prime minister Helen Clark resisted interviews through a specially installed Premier House phone line.

"She said: 'I'm not going to get out of my nice warm bed just to talk to you'. So I then had this image, I'm not sure I wanted it." Outside politics, which has been the dominant source of news and interviews throughout his Morning Report career, Robinson says he's not much of a news junkie. In fact, he claims to have few passions at all. "I'm relatively passion-less." With that in mind, retirement is a daunting prospect.

"It's quite scary [thinking about] what you're going to do. I'm not a person with an enormous number of hobbies."

He is a keen reader, and he talks enthusiastically about a recent read on the building of the Brooklyn Bridge. He doesn't listen to the radio much, except Concert FM, although he suspects that might change when he's no longer working on the airwaves.

And gardening doesn't hold much promise as a retirement hobby. "I regard gardening as outdoor housework, so I only do it when necessary," he says.

When he finally hangs up the headphones, after more than 30 years of a 3.50am wake-up call, Robinson says he won't have trouble sleeping in.

Then, like many New Zealanders, his day will start with the birds  the iconic calls that have been as much a part of Morning Report as Robinson himself.

After all those mornings sharing a stage with the native bird calls that lead into the news, Robinson's not afraid to wade into controversy by naming a favourite and staunchly defending the bird-call tradition.

"The kokako is the loveliest sound. I mean, it's ours. It's National Radio's."

CAREER HIGHLIGHTS

1943: Born in Twickenham, Britain

1961: Left school and started work with Martin's Bank.

1965: Left for New Zealand on the Southern Cross. Applied for a job with the New Zealand Broadcasting Corporation (NZBC), but forced to remain a bank clerk by the conditions of his immigration.

1969: Marries Elizabeth after meeting at a boarding house. 1970: Applies again for NZBC. Accepted and posted to Dunedin.

1972: Returns to Britain for 10 months and contracts to the BBC.

1975: NZBC broken up. Moves to Wellington and midday and evening news programmes. 1

976: Moves to Morning Report as a presenter.

1979: Asked to do the news for the commercial side.

1983: Bored with reading the news, swaps jobs with Morning Report presenter. Never looks back.

- The Marlborough Express