Jim Eagles: National treasure has the common touch

Let's hope we are not sitting through the closing scene in the remarkable life of David Lange. The country is sadly lacking in genuine personalities and it would be nice to enjoy more of his wonderful talent.

Even today, when he is worn-out and sick, Lange just can't help being warm, funny and hugely entertaining, as his occasional public appearances demonstrate. At his peak he was arguably the most witty and effective communicator the country has seen.

There's certainly no one on the present political scene who comes anywhere near matching his presence.

I first met Lange on his initial foray into politics in 1975 when he stood for the impregnable National seat of Bay of Islands. Having practised law - not particularly successfully - in Kaikohe and then South Auckland, Lange was reasonably well known but far from wealthy and Labour was not about to waste a lot of money on a hopeless cause. So for his shoestring campaign, the candidate, his then wife Naomi and the children lived in a tiny caravan parked in the garden of the Northland College farm manager's house.

Interviewing Lange in that crowded space, trying not to notice the vast white bulk spilling out of his dirty white singlet and old khaki shorts, or the strange pudding-basin haircut, was an unforgettable experience. But it quickly became apparent that behind the unprepossessing appearance was an incredibly quick mind ... and an even quicker tongue.

The campaign in the Bay of Islands that year was decidedly lopsided. All three challengers, Lange for Labour, Richard Alspach for Values and Howard Manning for Social Credit, were better speakers than National's Neil Austin.

Their joint meetings were hugely entertaining and attracted much bigger crowds than the solo meetings National - probably wisely - insisted on.

But, of course, come election night it was Austin who romped home.

I remember sitting in the returning office on election night watching Lange try desperately to find some consolation - "Look, we've picked up a few votes in Mangamuka," he said hopefully - when in fact his performance had gone unrewarded by the voters. However it had not gone unnoticed in Labour circles, and just two years later he was selected for a by-election in the safe seat of Mangere.

After that his effortless wit and booming rhetoric made him an unstoppable force. By 1977 he was Deputy Leader of the Opposition, by 1983 leader and by 1984 Prime Minister, along the way destroying the previously invincible Rob Muldoon.

As Prime Minister, Lange was not a dominating leader in the Muldoon mould. Rather, he was the benign chairman of a board of forceful executives.

While Roger Douglas pushed through policies which were economically necessary but hurt thousands of people, Lange provided the caring face which made it all seem acceptable.

What other Prime Minister arriving in a foreign country and being introduced to a senior official called Wong would instantly pick up a line from an American Express advertisement then showing in New Zealand and say, "Oh, Mr Wong, Mr Wong, I've lost my travellers cheques." It was irresponsible and hilarious and people loved it.

Who will ever forget his famous line in the internationally televised Oxford Union debate on nuclear weapons, "I can smell the uranium on your breath"? You didn't need to agree with the policy to feel pride.

That same wit made Lange's press conferences the best show in town. The seats were always full, the journalists were always laughing and the resultant stories largely favourable, and, in spite of the pain being felt around the country, his Government won a second term.

But, as we now know, Lange was increasingly unhappy with the policy direction, but his lack of hard-nosed political skill meant he lacked the power to change it.

Even his personal effort to leave a policy mark, making himself Minister of Education, failed to achieve all he was hoping. Tomorrow's Schools is still largely in place and - speaking as someone who laboured under the frustrations of the old system as secretary of a school committee and chairman of a board of governors - a huge step forward.

But the even more exciting second stage of his educational vision, a plan to measure the educational value added by teachers and schools, was sabotaged by the educational establishment.

That was a tragedy because, properly done, it would have freed schools to follow different paths suited to their particular communities, and provided a mechanism for testing which of those paths actually worked for children, and which were merely academic fashion.

By then, however, there was a wider problem as the Government was torn apart by the conflict between Lange's emotions and Douglas' policies.

Since then Lange has cut a tragic figure. Still incredibly funny, still exuding warmth, still capable of majestic oratory, but looking like a great man without a purpose, reduced to a mere entertainer.

It's worth reminding ourselves that, while Lange's success in politics was largely due to his abilities as an entertainer, there was much more to him than that. As a young lawyer he was known for his concern for the underdogs and his ability to communicate with ordinary people and speak on their behalf.

It was his concern about at the way his Government's policies were impacting on the weakest members of society that led to his break with Rogernomics.

That care for the vulnerable, that genuine common touch, is something Lange has retained throughout his life.

I'm told that when the former Prime Minister turns up for hospital appointments, if there is no bed ready he fills in time sitting at bedsides, chatting with the occupants and making them laugh.

As the patient who described this to me said, "That could only happen in New Zealand and only with David Lange."