When Michelle Boag landed the top National Party job just over a month ago it was only a matter of time before heads started rolling. She talks to CARROLL DU CHATEAU about why, where and when.
Michelle Boag sits in the old Fay, Richwhite premises on the 27th floor of NZI House on Queen St, juggling a bright-yellow cellphone in one hand and a land-line phone in the other. Twenty minutes earlier she delivered a speech carefully calculated to send a shiver of fear through the National Party.
Her call to the prominently besuited, bespectacled ones in the graceful green-and-cream dining room of the Northern Club? It is time to open up some gaps in the National lineup ... refocus on the new talent available to us. In other words, if we are going to win this election, heads must roll.
Consequently a conversation with Michelle Boag, whose campaign slogan, for goodness' sake, was "Stop The Rot" (see www.stoptherot.co.nz) is even less relaxed than usual.
The president's brown eyes constantly scan her cellphone, smiling with satisfaction as media and Party people take the bait and react to the obvious subtext of her speech - to make room for new talent, established people will have to go.
As Boag, 46, admits, she only got the job because the Nats wanted change. They knew she was a stirrer, a women who would push people and policies to the limit. Her job is "to rattle cages", she says.
"I made it very clear when I was voted president that I was looking for a lifted performance all round." She hesitates. "I don't think anyone should be underperforming." The unsatisfying thing, of course, is that Boag refuses to name names. "Do you think I'm mad?" she asks.
Her tactic - and we're dealing with a consummate tactician and politician - is to send the signals, then wait for the calls for interviews and for political commentators to come up with the names.
By the end of the day the hit-list is there: John Luxton, Doug Kidd, Max Bradford, Clem Simich, Warren Kyd, Marie Hasler (who was at the Northern Club, her hair in a rubber band but wearing an elegant skirt and seriously high heels), Tony Steel, Arthur Anae and Bob Simcock.
Later I call Boag to see if they got the names right. Her answer? "They haven't done their homework. Tony Steel, Bob Simcock and Clem Simich have all been confirmed as candidates." As for the rest, "I've steadfastly refused to name names."
Although she would never describe it as such, it has been a tough week, even for Boag. In the five-minute drive between the Northern Club and FR Partners' offices in Queen St, she lets slip that her much-loved grandmother died the previous week, days before her 90th birthday.
On Saturday, hours after the funeral Boag came down with food poisoning. Her uncle who flew from Mount Isa for the funeral is in town and will arrive any moment.
Her partner of 12 years - and husband of four years - Merv Bennett, has the flu ("probably because he played golf three days in a row with Burton [Shipley] last week when we were at Hanmer Springs [for the National Party caucus meeting]").
This means Boag must drive herself to Matamata this evening to speak at the local rugby club. This week, as with most of them, she will only have one night at home in Parnell with her teenage son Matthew who attends Auckland Grammar.
But Boag is not into making excuses, nor does she look remotely tired after the 7 am start. The bright-purple pants suit is fresh and crisp, her black hair is neatly curled, her patent shoes are high and shiny and gusts of Gucci Rush perfume billow from her.
"I certainly got my energy from my mother. She's 65 and makes me tired. She gets up at 5.30 and drives to South Auckland. She's at work at the Estee Lauder headquarters by 7.30, on her feet all day ... "
But even Mum would have trouble keeping up with her daughter, as Boag fulfils her pledge of 90 days of intensive policy action.
As party president, Boag is the Nats' best hope for a change of Government next time round. She has serious power, at grass roots and at caucus level. "The party organisation is in control of two things," she says. "We select the candidates and we also rank list candidates."
Five weeks into her presidency, this one-woman whirlwind ricochets round the country, talking to every one of the 20,000-odd party members she can find.
Already she has a clear indication the party wants change.
People are tired of Prime Minister Helen Clark's dream run. They can see the thinness in her caucus and they want the Nats to get in there and fight for some action.
'They want to see renewal within our ranks," she says. "New, young, talented people promoted on to our list."
B OAG is also between a half and a third of the way through visiting National MPs individually, giving them the message "about their own contribution and their own futures". And, presumably, creating gaps for new candidates.
And what about Mrs Shipley? Does she have to go for National to win? Boag is delighted with the question. "No one asked me that at the breakfast," she says, before settling to her carefully prepared answer.
"I have a very good relationship with Jenny Shipley. She's been incredibly supportive since I became president and she and I work very hard on policy activities.
"She's the duly elected leader of the party and I'm totally behind her. As president, that's my role." Boag pauses. "Although obviously I have to pass on to all members of caucus what people are saying about them. And I think Mrs Shipley is very aware of what people are saying about her."
And what are they saying? "Oh, comments on her style on TV for example". Isn't it too late for a leadership change anyway, with the election probably only 15 months away? Again the smile. "Other people have done it. Remember Mike Moore? Though I don't think we're that foolish."
As Boag points out, leadership success is a fickle, often unpredictable, thing. "People have forgotten that Helen Clark was a loser twice before she was a winner. She wasn't always the leader she is now. She's obviously grown into the role, but it took her a long, long, time to do it."
I'm reminded of a couple of things Boag said earlier at the Northern Club: "National has a vision for this country which Labour philosophically can't follow.
"The Knowledge Wave conference made it clear there are a number of alternatives open to a Government that wishes to encourage innovation and investment to achieve economic growth.
"The Government has closed the door on these options, leaving it wide open for National to take the best ideas on offer to create a framework that will create significant growth."
Does she think the Nats can win next year with this team in place? "Yes I do - providing we go through this renewal process."
Not that Boag is about to totally dismantle the National caucus - or its list for next year. Instead, she wants MPs to realise that senior ranking will no longer automatically entitle them to a nice, safe niche at the top of the list.
The message is she would rather people pulled out than be sent to the bottom of the list. "I'd rather they didn't go through that humiliation ... but we have to make room for some new people."
In September last year when Boag decided to stand for the presidency, both parties were performing abysmally.
"Labour hadn't realised it needed to court the business community," she says. "Business had totally lost confidence, everyone was feeling sick about the direction New Zealand was heading.
"I was sitting round with a bunch of National Party mates and a couple of us were going through what needed to happen - basically the party needed organising, new leadership, energy. And one colleague looked at me and said, 'Why don't you do it?' Then she looked at the MPs who were there and asked them - 'why don't you ask her [Boag] to do it'?"
At the time Boag looked a bit of an outside choice. Despite 28 years as a paid-up member of the Nats, including a stint working and living with Murray McCully and another as Rob Muldoon's press officer, there have been some slip-ups.
Her association with Fay, Richwhite, where she was Director of Corporate Affairs from 1995-2000 - particularly her role in misleading the Winebox Commission over filming of Winston Peters' evidence - had done her little good among the more conservative rump of Nats.
O N the other hand, with almost-certain defeat looming in 2002 they needed bold action. And Boag looked like their only hope, with her list of voluntary works - Books in Prisons, Variety Club, Auckland City Mission to name a few - shiny, bright Nina Ricci suits, energy, chutzpah and ability to look people in the eye and tell them to walk.
"I'd run three or four presidential elections, was always involved at national level but always behind the scenes. But then I realised that everything we were looking for was there in my own CV.
"So I stopped, thought about it and talked to lots of people. I especially talked to my husband - he knew it would mean a major sacrifice - plus a few people in the party whose support I knew I'd need, senior members of the caucus - mostly as a courtesy because I knew any challenge [to then-incumbent John Slater] had to be kept very tight."
The feedback was positive enough and on November 27 - "exactly a year after the election of the Labour Government" - Boag started campaigning.
"Inevitably some people, including the Labour Party, tried personal attack but in the end it backfired." she says, referring to her Fay, Richwhite linen, and the fact that her first husband was a problem gambler who had spent time in jail.
But nothing seemed to stick.
Before this, my most recent conversation with Boag had been in a dark, noisy bar in Apia where she had argued the finer points of rugby with the Manu Samoa team, with enormous authority.
As holder of the Fay, Richwhite budget for the team, Boag generated much respect - and much good-natured hassling which she handled with obvious pleasure.
Boag was a great success in Samoa. She knew everyone from the Prime Minister and Minister of Education down. Doors flew open as she approached in her slick, short-skirted suits or after her morning runs when, despite the heat, she'd haul on the Lycra and head off from Aggie Grey's hotel, returning red-faced and dripping with perspiration.
The Boag formula is similarly successful in New Zealand. People warm to her Westie battler courage, gloss, good nature and refusal to let her confidence be dented.
As part of her campaign tactics she sent out thousands of letters, met everyone she possibly could and memorised the names of most of them. So, by the time she hit the ballot box on July 22, she could greet 550 of the 600 voting delegates by name.
"I used to be very good at remembering phone numbers so I decided to train myself to remember names and faces. It was comforting to look through the voting list and think, 'Oh yes, I know her, him'. I could see their faces. It was a good feeling. I'd done the work."
And when did she know she was going to win?
"I knew I had it in the bag the night before. I said to Merv on the way there, 'If I don't win this in a doddle I'm going to have to retire from politics because I'm reading it all wrong.' My team had done our count and we knew we had 362 in the bag and John definitely had 165. And the balance split pretty much in those proportions."
She was right. Boag won 414 to 175 - and the real battle began. Since Boag took office, the political polls have shown first a small gain for National, followed by a slip back last week.
"But I refuse to be poll-driven, I'm not into winning votes from the public," she says.
She is determined to bring the Nats to within striking distance of Labour as we move into election mode about this time next year - which means whittling the popularity gap between parties down to 5 per cent minimum.
And how long is she prepared to sit in there, working the 18-hour days, travelling the country, rolling heads, telling the media she's gone as far as she's prepared to go, making herself unpopular?
One last smile as Boag gathers up the yellow cellphone, briefcase and outsized, battered diary, squares those shoulders and heads off to organise her day.
"As long as it takes."
Michelle Boag - rattling cages
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