Part Three - The Good, the Bad and the Boring

Mike Bodnar continues his reflections on some of the famous people he's met...

The Botanic Man. Image: Allan Warren

Dr. David Bellamy was an unlikely candidate as a television presenter. He came to the public's attention literally by accident in 1967 when he was interviewed on the ecological effects of the Torrey Canyon oil tanker disaster.

The SS Torrey Canyon, an early supertanker, ran onto a reef off the south-west coast of England, breaking up and spilling an estimated 25–36 million gallons of crude oil. At the time it was the world's biggest oil spill, so naturally the media sought out experts. David Bellamy was one of them. It could be said that it was an oil disaster that made him a slick presenter. (That's enough – Ed.)

Bellamy was big in every way; he was physically big, had a big personality, a big and distinctive voice, and was big on the environment and its protection. In those days, with his big beard and his generally dishevelled appearance, he was what was called 'a boffin' – a science-type.

But unlike many experts of the day, David Bellamy was an instant hit thanks to his enthusiastic presentation (much arm-waving and gesticulating) and his ability to communicate complex information with ease. As a result, he went on to front literally hundreds of programmes on ecology, botany (he became famous as 'The Botanic Man'), environmentalism and many other issues. In New Zealand his programmes were popular also and he was given his own Kiwi TV series, 'Moa's Ark' (referring to the now-extinct huge-but-flightless bird, the moa).

SS Torrey Canyon. Image: Helston History

Also in NZ he fronted an advertising campaign against a noxious weed, Old Man's Beard, having been chosen not just for his ecological standing but because he had a beard himself as well as an authoritative and recognisable voice. The campaign was called, 'Old Man's Beard Must GO!'

So it was no surprise to those of us on the Today Tonight regional news team to find that Dr. David Bellamy was in New Zealand and was willing, ready and able to be interviewed, which was my job.

What I remember of the encounter was that he was first and foremost a botanist, not a TV star or celebrity. There were no airs and graces, or ego, and it was as if we'd been chums for years, not just on screen during the interview but before and afterwards. Pleasingly – to me anyway – he was as large as life; the Bellamy we all saw on the screen was exactly the same man off. Which made him easy to interview and – a major bonus – likeable too.

After the live interview we had a quick snifter in the TV One Club, the on-site bar at the studios, and then I gave him a lift back to his hotel in Wellington, a journey of about 20 minutes during which he talked non-stop. As we passed the hillside suburb of Khandallah on our right just before reaching the city centre he grabbed my arm and pointed up the hill.

Endangered: Hamilton's Frog. Image: doc.govt.nz

'D'you know, there's a man lives up there on that hillside who's the world authority on Hamilton's Frog?!' He pronounced it 'fwog'. Not only did I not know that, I'd never heard of Hamilton's Frog.

Anyway, I dropped him at his hotel and drove home, on a sort-of high that I'd just had The Botanic Man in my car. I related the whole story to my then-wife and we decided maybe it would be a nice thing to do to invite him for dinner the next evening, especially as he was in town alone.

The next day I dropped a letter off at reception for him inviting him to join us for dinner and offering to collect him. Sadly we never received a reply, so had to eat the Old Man's Beard salad and Frog pâté ourselves.

Douglas Adams. Image: Wikimedia Commons

Meanwhile, it wasn't just frogs in danger of extinction, it was the whole of Planet Earth in peril from a proposed interplanetary super highway that made Douglas Adams a household name. Luckily, the acclaimed author visited New Zealand before the Vogons had a chance to destroy us all.

Adams's Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy had already successfully morphed from radio to television and had proved incredibly popular. Douglas Adams came out to the Avalon TV Studios and I interviewed him live on air.

He was incredibly tall, something like 6'5”, but affable and easy to interview. I'd told our floor manager (also a Doug) that he'd be coming in for an interview and he rushed home to grab his three HHGG books for autograph purposes. I too had brought mine in, and Douglas Adams kindly signed all three of them. He even took the time to write, 'To Mike with best wishes, Douglas Adams', as opposed to a quickly-scrawled signature. Likewise with our floor manager.

Such signed copies sell for quite a bit these days, but it's the memory of meeting him I cherish more. He came across as a very sharp mind, very 'there'. He was at that stage already working on turning the Hitch Hiker's Guide into a film, though as with many such transitions it was a long drawn-out process (Disney had bought the rights). So long in fact that he died four years before it was completed and released (2005).

Although I don't recall the fine detail of what we talked about, I do remember how very engaged he was in the interview. He wanted to be there and wanted to talk, which is not something I can say about every celebrity interviewee.

Such as, for example, two of Britain’s most popular comedians at that time - famous for their roles in Not The Nine O'Clock News - Mel Smith and Griff Rhys-Jones. They were on the cusp of making their own show, Alas Smith & Jones – a pun on the original early 1970s television western Alias Smith and Jones – and were in New Zealand for a show and tour.

It was arranged that we (myself and a film crew) would meet them in central Wellington for an interview, which we decided to do externally (saved setting up multiple lights). I started the interview with what I thought was a legitimate question, given that they were now embarking on a career as a comedy duo, and that was: 'Do you see yourselves as the next Morecambe and Wise?'

Not Morecambe and Wise. Image: BBC

Mel Smith snorted and said, 'I don't know if the news has reached here yet but Eric Morecambe's dead!' They looked at each other and shook their heads, and the interview went downhill from there. Unlike Douglas Adams and David Bellamy they didn't want to be there, didn't want to engage and weren't at all amusing despite their on-screen reputations.

It was an unpleasant few minutes, and unsurprisingly I can't recall what we talked about after that, other than they were very reluctant to be classified as a comedy 'duo' and seemed non-committal about anything. Oh well, can't win 'em all, alas.

Coming soon-ish in Part Four: Mime artist Marcel Marceau, Astonomer and science guru Carl Sagan, and the great Dane himself, Victor Borge.