In this series, I meet extraordinary Australians...
This is what I do. This is who I am.
It's so exciting to be here.
(BOTH LAUGH)
..who tell me their fascinating stories...
It was like someone had just given me gold.
..while I paint their portrait.
Like, I'd sleep with my bat as a kid.
My challenge is to capture their character...
That's not what you've got the power of the microphone to do.
..and put it on the canvas.
I was born this colour for a reason.
The portrait is theirs to keep, so I want them to like it.
Oh, my God! Heavens above.
Oh, my God! Wow!
Yeah! That's incredible!
Wow! Oh, my God.
She's hot! (LAUGHS)
Welcome to Anh's Brush With Fame.
Alan Jones is Australia's most influential broadcaster.
Raised on a small farm in Acland, South East Queensland,
and famous for leading the Wallabies to glory in the '80s,
he's also known for being both controversial and extremely generous.
I'm looking forward to getting to know
the man behind the headlines.
ALAN: Well, if Anh's uncharitable,
the features he might focus on are, well, what do you think?
Long nose. Dry mouth.
Eyes that look as though they need a bit of sleep.
But he's a very charitable sort of person
and I think he'll most probably be very flattering.
His fans consider him a champion of the battler.
Alan has the ear of some of our nation's most powerful players.
He's known for his persistence, strong work ethic
and also his complex character.
Who is this remarkable man
who's held the loyalty of his listeners for decades?
Alan. How are you?
I'm so happy you could find the time, thank you.
Well, what a reputation, eh? (LAUGHS) It precedes you.
Oh, wow. I've been told, "This you must do!"
Really? So there we are.
Oh, I'm so happy to have you here. Happy. Here we go. I'll sit up here.
What a lovely jacket you've got on.
Well, you've got to spruce up. I bought it especially for you.
Let's go right back to the start.
You grew up on a farm in Queensland. That's it.
Life on the farm wasn't always easy.
Very tough. Lots of drought.
And there was no electricity or anything of that kind.
There was no toilet.
Just sort of had that thing out the back and you dug the hole.
You know, when the toilet was full and we took it in turns as to who
emptied the dunny, as they used to say.
You know, I rode a horse to school, four miles.
Tied it up at the railway siding and then caught a rail motor.
And that was always good, because the tables and the spelling
were all over before we got there, so we missed all the tough stuff.
My parents died never having had a holiday, so...
But we never thought we went without.
You didn't really feel deprived
because we didn't quite know how the other half lived.
In mid-1940s Australia,
the economic impacts of World War II had hit hard.
And in drought-stricken South East Queensland,
Alan's parents were forced to find other ways to keep food on the table
for their three kids.
The banks wanted to foreclose on everybody.
But my mother was very strong, a very able, very intelligent woman.
And very tough.
I think she said to the men who were sent by the banks,
"I think you know where the front gate is.
"Make sure you close it on the way out."
My father decided to take a job in the mine.
He dug coal, up to his waist in water.
So, for the rest of his life, you know, he suffered badly,
in terms of arthritis and all the rest of it.
And so Mum ran the show, virtually,
while Dad tried to put food on the table.
There was no money.
Your parents worked hard
to eventually send you to Toowoomba Grammar.
Well, in those days of course, you know,
every farmer knew the bank manager.
There was a personal relationship.
My father was regarded as a very honest man,
and so basically the bank had no hesitation in lending the money
for us to be educated on the basis
he knew Charlie Jones would pay the money back.
Tell me more about boarding school. Well, it was tough.
I mean, those were the old days where they belted you up
and when you were new you had to cop it.
And they had all sorts of ways of initiating you.
Yes.
The virtue of it is you learn how to socialise,
to get on with other people.
You don't get on with them all, so there are conflicts and arguments.
You make friends, you make enemies.
My mother said to me when I went to boarding school,
"They'll ask you to do a lot of things.
"Always say yes and ask what it is later."
(LAUGHS) I just kept on putting my hand up.
And then I found out, God, I'm in the debating team!
What am I meant to do here?
I'm in the public speaking competition!
What am I supposed to do?
One day this housemaster walked in and said,
"There's a concert at the town hall on Saturday night.
"Does anyone want to go?"
And I put my hand up. Yep.
At the time I wasn't aware that it would be charged onto your account.
So it was a further cost to my parents.
Oh, wow.
Who sort of didn't have any money anyway.
But anyway I went, and I'd never seen people dressed like this.
And then out of the wing over here
came an enormous black woman in -
and I can still see her now - it was like a circus tent.
She had this massive gown on.
And then she just nodded to the accompanist Geoffrey Parsons.
He started to play and she opened her mouth.
I'd never heard anything like it.
(SINGS)
And because I put my hand up,
I had an experience which I'm talking to you about today.
I mean, it was just a phenomenal eye-opener to me.
I'd never seen anything like it.
And Alan didn't stop putting his hand up at school.
He said yes to everything - singing, acting and sports,
playing tennis alongside future champion Ken Fletcher
and coached by the legendary Harry Hopman.
But when he graduated in 1957,
he decided to follow in his mother's footsteps.
My mother had been a teacher. Mm-hm.
But again, it was a matter of finances.
There was no-one to pay you to go to university,
and the great thing about a teacher
was they'd give you a teacher's scholarship
and the training was only 12 months
and then you were in a job.
So there was income.
I would no longer be a burden on my parents
and they didn't have to continue to sort of
save and struggle to keep me... keep me alive.
Combining his new teaching career with his love of sports,
Alan rose rapidly through the ranks of Brisbane Grammar,
becoming French and English master as well as rugby coach.
In 1970, his talents were recognised
when he was poached by the King's School in Sydney,
eager for Jones to boost the performance of their own rugby team.
I just enjoyed identifying talent
and then taking it from where I thought it was now
to where I knew this young person would want to be.
Mm, mm.
And then in rugby, well, I felt I was badly coached.
So, I thought, well, I couldn't be any worse
than the people who coached me.
They didn't know anything.
That gave me an understanding of what I thought SHOULD be done
if you wanted to have a successful team.
I have to say one of the features that I focused on,
rightly or wrongly, was I thought young people wanted to do well.
Success was important.
So we weren't apologising for pursuing success,
we weren't apologising for wanting to be the best in the state.
And I wasn't interested in everyone getting the same result.
You might have to one day say to someone,
"Well, look, I'm sorry, you did well,
"but there are eight in front of you."
And that created those juices in young people to be competitive,
and I thought that was a good thing.
Whilst delivering wins for this elite private school,
Alan's methods proved divisive and he resigned in 1975.
Shifting his focus to politics,
Alan contested Liberal preselection several times unsuccessfully.
But his passionate speeches didn't go unnoticed.
In 1979, he was approached by then prime minister,
Malcolm Fraser, for the job of speechwriter and senior adviser.
What was it like working for the prime minister?
You were of... yes, swinging by the seat of your pants,
but you had to exercise your own judgement.
The prime minister had to exercise his own judgement,
and he didn't have a whole heap of people clamouring over him
to claim ownership over him and get their views accepted
by the prime minister - there were only a couple of us!
What's that like, to write a speech
and then prime minister is gonna deliver it?
A speechwriter never writes a speech for a prime minister.
That would be to appropriate to yourself an importance
to which you're not entitled.
It must always be the prime minister's speech.
However, having crafted it to start with,
we'd go over every detail and he would make changes.
And by the time it was finished, it was,
while I had done the guts of it, the bones of it,
it had to become his speech.
So, what was it like?
It was very demanding,
because there'd be three and four of these things a week.
It was tough, yeah, but, look, you were working for a prime minister.
It was a privilege, and I was a dairy farmer's son.
And I remember my father saying when we came up to the election,
and I'd ring him up to get a bit of an insight.
I'd say, "What are they saying? What are they saying?"
Because I was getting a bit of feedback.
And I thought, well, if Dad's got a bit of a clue here,
it might be representative of what the public are thinking.
We're facing the last week of the campaign
and still the polls tell us that the ALP is ahead.
Do you think that you're being too complacent
in the way you've run the campaign up until now?
No, I don't think I've been complacent at all.
I, um... Well, I suppose I can tell...
I shouldn't tell this story, but we were behind
and he found out about the polls.
Diabolical. We went straight to the advertising agency.
There was a great big screen, and it had all these houses.
Written right across it in red,
"Taxed, taxed, taxed, taxed."
"So, what's this?" Malcolm said to the people.
"Well, basically, you know, it's Labor taxing the family home."
"Oh."
Said to one of his advisers, "What do you think?"
And this person said, "Oh, Prime Minister,
"I don't think that's what the Labor Party are saying.
"That's not quite truthful, eh?"
"Mm. Alan, what do you think?"
"Well," I said, "Prime Minister, it's a bit late in the day
"to be worried about niceties.
"I'd be running with the campaign."
VOICEOVER: Labor's new taxes.
Where else would they get the money for all their promises?
Lead on, Liberal.
It's everywhere. Stack of money, ads everywhere.
"Taxing the family home," going all across Australia.
So, I've rung my old man the next morning.
I said, "Dad, what are they saying?" He said...
Pardon the language, he said, "Jesus, are they gonna tax...
"this other lot gonna tax the family home?!"
I said, "Why do you say that?"
He said, "I saw all these ads on the TV," you see.
And the polls swung and Malcolm Fraser's won the election.
Wow.
It's a touch dishonest, don't you think?
(LAUGHS) Goodness.
But, you know, at the end of the day,
you're not telling people how to vote.
They've got to make their own mind up
as to whether that is the truth or not.
I've never told anyone that story, so there you are.
Alan left Canberra's political scene in 1981
to go up against the unions
as head of the New South Wales Employers Federation.
Only one year later,
Alan's focus was drawn back to family matters.
Your mum suffered from dementia in the late '70s.
Well, we didn't know that's what it was.
But terrible death, without any dignity at all.
My mother's death made me really think about euthanasia.
Because she was a Victorian woman,
tremendous self-pride,
and bit by bit this other thing obviously kicked in.
But when you'd then go and see her, I mean, the level of care was...
I think people did their best,
but it's not care as a family would want it.
And there'd be times when I'd go in,
and you talk about the indignity of it,
and because she'd wrestled with herself in a way,
you know, her nightie would be up over her head,
and that sort of stuff.
And I thought this is not... this is not meant for my mother.
She doesn't deserve this sort of stuff.
And you then think, well, is this living, you know?
Sadly, Alan's mum, Elizabeth,
who was such a strong role model in his life,
died before she had the chance to see her son's influence on the nation.
I want to capture the passion and energy that drives Alan
and makes him such a powerful voice in our country.
In 1982, rugby-loving Alan was offered a coaching opportunity,
to turn around the underperforming Manly
in Sydney's first grade rugby competition.
As always, he put up his hand and said yes.
What was the secret?
How did you take them from a team that never won for so many years
to winning it in one year?
Well, I had a view about how the game should be played,
that's the first thing.
For anyone who's a rugby fan who is watching this,
I mean, we have this pick-and-drive stuff,
we're constantly playing the ball on the ground.
I didn't believe that was the way you could win rugby matches.
We played the ball in the air, which is maul ball
rather than ruck ball, and that was brand-new to Manly.
And, so, it took a while to get the players to accept the change,
but at the same time, I think they felt they had no alternative
because they hadn't won anything.
So, we changed the way we played it
and then we were able to play with the football.
We played 15-man rugby.
And then you get them to believe in themselves,
which they did.
We then believed that no-one could beat us, and no-one did.
Alan's coaching talents
saw the Manly underdogs win the grand final.
And off the back of this success,
he was selected to bring his unique style of coaching
to the national team.
Is it true you put the Wallabies through choir practice?
The team would line up and couldn't sing the national anthem.
And some of them didn't know the words.
And so I said, "Look, if we're gonna sing this bloody thing,
"we've got to do it properly."
Sure.
"There's no use being on the paddock playing good rugby
"and then we're absolutely hopeless and silent
"when it comes to our anthem."
Especially the second verse! That's it. The second and third.
So, we've got to sing this thing, you see. So we did that very well.
ALL: (SING) ♪ Advance Australia fair. ♪
Tell me about the bacon-and-eggs theory.
(LAUGHS)
Well, look, I would speak often in analogies,
so I simply said to them, very early on,
"There'll be people who will be committed
"and there'll be people who'll be involved."
Why I said that, is I call the bacon-and-eggs theory.
Because in bacon and eggs,
the chicken is involved, the pig's committed.
(LAUGHS) The pig gives his life!
Yes. I want the committed people!
I don't want the people who sit down,
lay an egg and will be back tomorrow.
And my people were committed.
That's a great analogy for a bunch of footballers.
Bacon and eggs, they get it.
Well, they could understand it, couldn't they?
COMMENTATOR: Mark Ella! Mark Ella!
In 1984, Alan did it again...
Mark Ella! What a try!
..leading one of the strongest ever Wallabies squads
to an unprecedented victory on the UK tour.
Lawton!
Never before or since
have the Wallabies achieved a grand slam...
Alan Jones is the prince of Wales.
..beating England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales.
There's the grand slam for Australia. You beauty.
But his controversial and divisive style
would continue to set him back.
So, you've won 89 out of 102 matches.
Yeah. Amazing record.
Oh, it's annoying! We should have won the other 13!
(LAUGHS) Why did they sack you?
Look, you can't have success, um...
..without standing on some toes.
There were a couple of people in Queensland Rugby
whom I thought were way over the pale and I told them so.
And they thought, "Well, we'll get square
"and we'll give the job to somebody else."
As well as that, the World Cup was a major disappointment,
in the sense that it was the first World Cup ever,
I was criticised, I think, because I continued to work.
We were all amateurs and I was working,
and I encouraged the players who were in Sydney to continue to work.
And I think that upset some people
and they blamed me and said the preparation...
I don't think there was anything wrong with our preparation.
But we then played France in the semifinal.
We led all the way, we had the match won all the way.
We were right on full-time, we were in front.
And from the scrum, France win the ball.
There was a back rower for France called Rodriguez,
and he's knocked the ball on.
But obviously the referee must have been at the wrong angle -
he's a human being like anyone else -
and he didn't see the knock-on.
We tentatively stopped playing, because we're in the final.
Yeah. It's all over.
Play continued and they scored in the corner...
No. ..so we're gone.
And so all of those things added up,
plus the fact that I'd upset a few people,
and so, yeah, booted me out.
The shock loss in the 1987 Rugby World Cup
empowered his detractors to strike.
After his unceremonious exit from the Wallabies,
a surprising job offer would change Alan's life forever.
How did you get into radio?
I got a call from John Brennan, who was the king of radio.
And he'd heard me speak at the National Press Club or somewhere,
and he said, "You know, I think we should offer you a job."
David Maxwell, a lovely man, who was the general manager at 2UE,
took me to a Chinese restaurant.
He'd said that they would like me to do the program if I was willing,
and I tentatively said yes.
He then, in the most hesitant way -
I'll never forget, as if he was there now -
said, "Well, look... the problem's always money, isn't it, you know?"
And I was on very, very good money at the Employers Federation.
I came in at $42,000 a year and a car.
That then was more than the head of...
..the Prime Minister and Cabinet was getting!
And I thought, "Oh, God.
"This bloke's gonna offer me 25,000 bucks. What am I gonna say now?"
And he ended after this... all this prevarication and deliberation,
he said, "Look, we can only offer you $130,000."
(LAUGHS)
I signed this thing,
and he said, "Do you know anything about ratings?"
I said, "Nothing."
"Oh," he said, "don't worry about it, 'cause, you know,
"we don't have any ra..."
I said, "Look, explain to me, what would be a good rating?"
"Oh," he said, "Look, very good? 10 would be."
"10?" I said, "What would happen if I got 10 by the end of the year?"
"Oh, Alan, Alan, Alan, don't get carried away."
(LAUGHS)
I said, "If 10 is the goal, I'm going for 10, I'm telling ya!"
And he was quite excited by this.
He said, "Listen, if you get 10,
"I'll give you $100,000 there and then." "Oh, righto."
We got 10.4 on the final survey of that year, 1985.
And immediately the ratings came out,
David Maxwell walked in with a cheque for $100,000.
(LAUGHS) On top of the 130? On top of the 130!
Oh. This is 1985!
Good year, Alan! Good year. A good year.
Yeah, buy Dad a few beers? Yeah, that's right! (LAUGHS)
Yes. I bought him a car. I bought him a car.
Did you? Mm.
Good morning and welcome to the end of the week
and the beginning of the weekend.
Alan continued to smash the ratings.
33 years later and he's still a radio juggernaut.
Is there a secret to all this success?
A simple secret.
If you want to pass the exam, you've got to do your homework.
The only thing you get without hard work is failure.
And even then, you know, you'll fail, but you go again.
Why do you think people love listening to you so much?
Most people are out on Struggle Street, they're battling away,
and they're voiceless.
They try to go to politicians, no-one wants to know.
I always took the view that if they were courteous enough to write,
I should be courteous enough to answer.
I say my listeners are my best researchers,
so they're alerting me also to areas of concern and interest
which make for the composition of the program.
And they think, "Well, Alan Jones can reduce this
"in a way which we'll understand,
"and we trust him, we trust his views."
Has there been times when something comes out and you go,
"Ooh, maybe I shouldn't have said that?"
Well, you've got an hour and a half to put 3.5 hours together.
That's it. And it's... it's high-powered stuff.
Do you make mistakes? Yes. Do you get it wrong? Yes.
You should apologise if you get it wrong.
And do you say things that you regret? Yes.
It'll never be perfect, but you do your best.
Would some of the things you've said about Julia Gillard
fall into that category, where you've kind of regretted it?
Well, the Gillard issue where I made reference to her father,
what had happened on that particular day -
I was doubled-booked.
I had agreed to be
at my godson Hunter's birthday party,
but I'd also, mistakenly, committed to
a Young Liberal Party private dinner.
At the fancy dress party, we're all in fancy dress,
and this bloke's come up and said to me,
"Oh, have you heard the latest from Canberra?"
And then he told me this story about Julia Gillard.
And I said, "Look, the last thing I want to do
"is talk about Canberra now, please."
So, I then leave and I go to the Young Liberals dinner.
Well, Young Liberals, being Young Liberals,
they're bright, they're smart.
I always enjoy that because they...
And they're very irreligious.
So, by the time I got up to speak,
they had rubbished every person on the planet including me.
So, I get up to speak at 10:10, but I said, you won't believe this,
I said, "I was down there trying to have a good time
"and this bloke's come up to me and told me this story
"which I didn't want to hear," and I just repeated the story.
So, it wasn't my joke.
Now, a person has got himself into this private gathering,
secretly recorded my speech, which is against the law,
a criminal offence,
but because it was Alan Jones, no-one cared about that.
(ON RECORDING) Every person in the caucus of the Labor Party
knows that Julia Gillard's a liar, everybody.
I'll come to that in a moment.
The old man died of shame
to think that he had a daughter who told lies
every time she stood for Parliament.
When it became public, I rang Julia and she didn't take my call.
I publicly apologised and I legitimately apologised,
because I'm not apologising for the fact that I said it,
because it was said privately
and you can't withdraw any of that, it's done.
But at the same time, the fact that it was made public
and had the potential to hurt her feelings and all the rest of it,
then you're obligated to offer an apology,
and that apology was sincere.
But I've never spoken to Julia since.
We had good relationships before that,
and I hope one day I'll be able to speak to her and say,
"Listen, I'm sorry about it.
"I mean, I didn't sort of intend it the way you saw it."
Look, I think you always regret if you visit hurt upon anybody.
That's not what you've got the power of the microphone to do.
Alan faced huge public outrage
and his version of events remain controversial.
But for Alan, controversy and inflaming public opinion
is part of who he is.
The 'cash for comment' scandal and other issues
would see him the focus of a news agenda.
Just a minute. I'm asking you what you noticed at the time.
Alan's adrenaline-charged career has taken its toll.
Recently, you've been dealing with some health issues yourself.
Yes, I had...
I was at the farm, and on the Friday night I felt very sweaty.
When I got up on Sunday, a couple of the staff said,
"Oh, you don't look all that well. You should..."
I said, "I might just go to bed. I feel a little bit tired."
On that Sunday night, I'd had to change my nightshirt twice,
and the sheets in the bed were like as if they'd been in the ocean.
And I thought there's something odd going on here. So I rang him.
This is Dr... Professor Omari, a very smart man.
He straightaway said, "Get down here immediately, don't do anything."
They shoved me in the bed, they had the bed made up for me.
I can remember lying back and I'd sort of fall asleep
and then I could hear these voices.
And I looked up and there were about six doctors at the end of the bed.
And I heard one of them say,
"There's no pulse, there's no pulse."
And so I can remember them going very quickly
to get me to intensive care.
And I can honestly remember,
'cause there was a bit of a ridge in the lift,
and, yeah, the bed hits the thing and bumps like that
and goes down again.
I can remember that, and I can't remember anything else.
Whether I had a look on the other side I don't know.
I subsequently said to the professor, "What happened?"
A couple of days later, "What happened there?"
"Well," he said, "you went to the exit door, they didn't open it."
That was his expression.
There was no pulse? Well, apparently.
Yeah. For how long, do you know?
Don't know. It's better not to know, isn't it?
I don't go to all that sort of stuff.
Getting so close to the door, Alan, how does it make you think of life?
Take the opportunities.
This notion about opportunity knocks - opportunity doesn't knock.
You can stick your head at the door and you'll hear nothing.
You've got to go out and make the most of opportunities.
My mother said to me, and she was a big influence on my life,
"If you're interested, you'll be interesting."
Well, your mum taught you to put your hand up,
and, Alan, you've lived a life
where you continuously put your hand up...
Thank you.
..and exceed expectations and everything else.
Thank you very much. I'm nearly done.
Alright. I can't believe it.
I'm gonna just need another 20 minutes
to finish this off, make it really good.
Yes?
And then I'll bring you back, Alan, and I'll show you.
(LAUGHS) I'm worried!
I do have no idea how it'll turn out.
But I felt by the nature of the questions
that he knew a fair bit about me before he began.
It's a very clever process that he's undertaking,
but I think for him a very challenging one.
It's not an easy one.
Alan has such a sharp mind,
so I've tried to capture that in his eyes.
He also obviously loves Australia,
so I've snuck a little bit of green and gold in there.
Let's bring him in and see what he thinks.
OK, Alan, come on back.
I'm ready if you are. (LAUGHS) I am, I am.
You've obviously got an intelligence about you,
so I wanted that in the eyes.
But you've also got a lovely warmth and generosity.
I wanted all that in there. And I think I might have gotten close.
You're unbelievable. So I'll get you to close your eyes.
OK. And don't open them till I tell you.
No, I won't.
OK, Alan, open your eyes. Can I open them now?
Yep.
Heavens above.
That's unbelievable. That's unbelievable.
My God.
That's... (BOTH LAUGH)
Does it look like you? Of course it does!
I've changed your jacket colour.
That's called artistic licence. (LAUGHS)
Do you like it? It's beautiful! It's marvellous!
It's me!
So many of these things are sort of abstract,
and you think, "Well, who is that?" and you don't know.
Yep. You're amazing. You're amazing.
How good is this?
What's those little... what are those little green bits there on the side?
I put a little bit of green and gold, just there.
Oh, I see.
The Wallabies. That's the Wallabies!
Yeah! A bit of green and gold!
Just a little bit. I didn't want to make the whole thing... But yeah.
(LAUGHS) No. Yeah.
Anh, it's beautiful. Thank you so much.
Thank you so much for coming on the show.
My pleasure. It's my pleasure. It's been a real joy.
Thank you very much. Beautiful.
I just think Anh's done a fabulous job,
and I feel privileged to be part of the whole project.
It's very flattering. I'm grateful.
It could have been a lot worse, couldn't it?
It'll be... occupy an indelible place.
I'll be very honoured and very proud to hang it.
Alan Jones has been driving a conversation about Australia
for three decades.
And it's evident a lot of people take great comfort
in knowing they have him in their corner.
Next time, little boy lost.
Saroo Brierley's remarkable journey to find his way back home.
It's an odyssey that became a Hollywood hit.
Sometimes I guess catching the wrong train
can take you to the right station.
I need to capture his determination
and the inner joy that never left him.
Wow! I'm blown away, man.