The time Alan Jones helped my radio show

On witnessing the power of Australia's fallen radio king

One time, when I was the executive producer for the 2GB afternoon show, I was sent to Canberra for a week. It was me, the host I was working with, the breakfast producers, and their host Alan Jones.

We were a small group and had a few obligatory social events with clients and our offshoot regional radio station. If I was conspicuous, it was because I was the only woman on that trip, and the only producer not working on breakfast. Despite this – and to my immense amusement – Jones introduced himself to me no less than four times in just three days. 

Every interaction went the same way. Jones, thinking I was a client or perhaps a fan, would go to shake my hand. He was smiling then, full of charm. I would take his hand and and tell him, again, that I was from 2GB. In an instant, the beatific expression fell from his face like a meat pie dropped on concrete. Suddenly all jowls and scorn, he’d walk away without another word. For Alan Jones, women – especially young women – were completely below his notice. 

Despite Jones’s tartness, I could never muster any energy to be offended. I found his jabs to be funny, so I filed them away as fodder for future dinner parties. In fact, if I felt anything towards Jones at that time, it was pity. 

IIf 2GB was a zoo – and it certainly felt that way much of the time – Jones seemed like a particularly rare and endangered exhibit. A lonely relic from another time stuck on the wrong side of a glass cage, trapped by public scrutiny and unable (or unwilling) to live truthfully.

Which is not to say that Alan Jones’s sexuality was a secret. The toilet block incident of 1988 notwithstanding, Jones would have obvious infatuations with the beautiful young men who worked at the station. He would take them to dinner, foster their career, speak warmly of their sharp wit and intelligence (even when those merits were lacking). We – the young and ambitious producers – thought it was innocent. Funny, even. Here was a powerful grown man, a titan of the media, clearly beleaguered with schoolboy crushes. It all made for good office gossip.

But I was never close to the inner circles or the people who he tried to charm. I didn’t know the details. These days I sorely regret being so glib about it. But for all involved, the best trial is a fair trial and I will say no more on that matter.

But even from the wings, where I watched the great drama of Alan Jones and 2GB unfold, I saw flashes of his profound power and influence. In fact, I was once the beneficiary of it — purely by luck. 

I used to collect photos with controversials figures to horrify my left-wing friends on Facebook. This photo was taken at a charity ball run by Jones.

While working at 2GB, I had been doing bits and pieces on air. I had a regular segment on one of their weekend shows, and had been a guest on the sister station of 2UE to talk generally about politics. Then one day the station director took me into his office to have a chat. 

They were filling up the holiday timeslots, and he wondered if I like to do a shift on-air? It would be Christmas day from midnight to 6am – easily the worst spot of the year – but I would not have to do it alone. My friend at the station, who happened to be a member of Alan Jones’s team, would be co-hosting along with me.

I gladly accepted, and we chatted for a while longer. The station director spoke a little about developing talent, the lack of women on radio. 

“The thing is,” he said leaning back in his chair. “People just don’t like the sound of women’s voices on air. It’s a shame but it’s true”

I nodded as though this was a unfortunate but undeniable reality. I knew this was a betrayal to my gender, but I wasn’t willing to compromise my on-air spot by interrogating his views. That’s the trouble with ambition sometimes — you sell who you are for a shot at who you might become.

It was weeks before our shift, but my co-host and I quickly set to work planning the show. We both knew that booking guests to appear at such an antisocial time was all but impossible, so instead we decided to pre-record all our interviews.

But who would be bothered to come on a show hosted by two no-names on a timeslot with no listeners? 

I needn’t have worried. 

My friend explained that while Jones wasn’t thrilled that I would be co-hosting the show (“there will be too much giggling if they let her do it” he said, still not knowing who I was) but he was willing to help nonetheless. Jones looked out for his people, you see. So he sent out a letter to several of his associates, asking if they’d be willing to record an interview with us. The people who agreed to appear on the worst slot in radio? 

John Howard, Mike Baird, Tony Abbott, Andre Rieu, Bob Katter, Julie Bishop (though we lost her interview due to me not pressing record) along with a few other musicians and Australian talent. Off the back of this lineup, I then managed to convince Anthony Albanese (then just the shadow minister for transport but quickly rising through the ranks) to also come on.

It still amazes me today that, such was the power of a mildly-written Jones letter, John Howard was willing to talk to us. The former Prime Minister was a notoriously hard interview to get. We had been trying unsuccessfully to book him on the Drive show for a full year beforehand. 

But the generosity didn’t end there. Jones plugged our time slot on his show with such warmth, you would believe we were friends. He typed a letter addressed to us both with sincere and useful advice. Jones was also our first caller, lavishing us both with praise and his good humour.

This is what people sometimes miss about Jones. It wasn’t just power, bullying, and misogyny. A smart king yields fear and favour in equal measure – and truly Jones was a master of both. Merely being in the reflected light of his attention was intoxicating. I can only imagine what it would have felt like to have his full attention. His kind regard.  

There are a lot of public figures who are denouncing Jones, talking about their shock and anger. But there are many who are conspicuously quiet. He wasn’t just generous with introductions, Jones. He is an extravagantly rich man. He invests in the businesses of his favoured friends, pays for weddings, house deposits. There are powerful people out there who owe him much of their success.

What a position for those people to be in now. What do you owe the man who gave you everything? 

Well may we be lucky enough to never find out.