Joe’s inner circle was the cleverly worded affirmation delivered by prominent Australian actress Kate Fitzpatrick, who had a stint with Peter Collins as a policy advisor on the arts. Joe’s artistic interests, or lack of them, had been the brunt of jokes when he worked for both Souris and Collins. They’d both tried to ignite a passion, but had so far failed. Still, it was an important interest to many of the well-heeled voters of North Sydney, and Brogden wanted to address it. ‘Little is known about his support for many branches of the arts,’ Kate Fitzpatrick wrote. It was true – little was known because he had such little interest. ‘Joe is the kind of candidate both sides of politics need and ordinary people despair of ever finding,’ she said.
Joe’s five-point plan to a better government was also listed between photographs of him with constituents and local landmarks, as well as with Melissa, the woman he had married less than a year earlier. A cheap last-minute pamphlet, tearing him down as an inexperienced student politician, did the rounds, but did little to dampen the effect of the slick campaign brochure put together by Brogden and sent directly to pre-selectors.
Concetta Fierravanti-Wells wore her nerves for all to see, and it showed in her performance on the day of the pre-selection. Ian Longbottom gave it his best shot, relying on his achievements in local government and in business. At 46, he was older than many of the candidates, but he sat well in the electorate. He had young children going through the state education system, and ageing parents. He had always belonged to the Liberal Party and helped out at every election he could. But when Joe walked out to take his place in front of selectors, he looked like he owned the position. ‘He behaved like the front-runner; he looked foreman material on the day,’ Hingerty says now.
Hingerty had heard the speech dozens of times. They’d practised it, tweaked it, and drafted and re-drafted. Now it was up to Joe to deliver. And he did. A stirring eight-minute talk about the kid, born of an immigrant dad, who grew up in Northbridge to find a holey cricket net that almost cost a friend’s life. It was parish pump stuff, delivered with drama and emotion. And it showed politics worked, because the nets had been replaced. The selectors loved it. Bill Heffernan, who thought Joe’s family had provided him with a good compass in life, loved every word of it because it showed that Joe’s interest in politics stemmed from an interest in the public good. ‘It did the job on the day,’ he says.
But the speech itself was only the warm-up gig; it was the 12-minute question period that followed where Joe knew he had it in the bag. In part, that’s because he had lined up a question from someone in the audience, a strong supporter called Barbara Elliott whose husband was Joe’s family doctor. He had wanted a hostile question, to show pre-selectors what he was made of, and he’d suggested it to Barbara. Her hand shot up. ‘Shouldn’t we get rid of Alexander Downer?’ she asked.
Earlier that year, in May 1994, Downer had won the leadership in a ballot with the incumbent leader John Hewson. But while enjoying an immediate spike in approval, Downer’s ratings quickly plummeted on the back of a series of embarrassing public blunders. Joe didn’t flinch. He knew the question was coming because he’d authored it. And he’d practised his answer.
‘You know what, Barb?’ Joe responded. ‘Thanks very much for that question. My view is that we are all part of a team, and if the leader stumbles, our job is to pick him up, dust him off, and move forward side by side.’ Joe knew by the cheers that went up around the room that he’d soon be declared the Liberal Party candidate for North Sydney. And he was. His performance meant he was chosen in the first round, scoring 105 of 199 votes.
Despite the win, for a short while the result mystified Joe and his
Joe’s five-point plan to a better government was also listed between photographs of him with constituents and local landmarks, as well as with Melissa, the woman he had married less than a year earlier. A cheap last-minute pamphlet, tearing him down as an inexperienced student politician, did the rounds, but did little to dampen the effect of the slick campaign brochure put together by Brogden and sent directly to pre-selectors.
Concetta Fierravanti-Wells wore her nerves for all to see, and it showed in her performance on the day of the pre-selection. Ian Longbottom gave it his best shot, relying on his achievements in local government and in business. At 46, he was older than many of the candidates, but he sat well in the electorate. He had young children going through the state education system, and ageing parents. He had always belonged to the Liberal Party and helped out at every election he could. But when Joe walked out to take his place in front of selectors, he looked like he owned the position. ‘He behaved like the front-runner; he looked foreman material on the day,’ Hingerty says now.
Hingerty had heard the speech dozens of times. They’d practised it, tweaked it, and drafted and re-drafted. Now it was up to Joe to deliver. And he did. A stirring eight-minute talk about the kid, born of an immigrant dad, who grew up in Northbridge to find a holey cricket net that almost cost a friend’s life. It was parish pump stuff, delivered with drama and emotion. And it showed politics worked, because the nets had been replaced. The selectors loved it. Bill Heffernan, who thought Joe’s family had provided him with a good compass in life, loved every word of it because it showed that Joe’s interest in politics stemmed from an interest in the public good. ‘It did the job on the day,’ he says.
But the speech itself was only the warm-up gig; it was the 12-minute question period that followed where Joe knew he had it in the bag. In part, that’s because he had lined up a question from someone in the audience, a strong supporter called Barbara Elliott whose husband was Joe’s family doctor. He had wanted a hostile question, to show pre-selectors what he was made of, and he’d suggested it to Barbara. Her hand shot up. ‘Shouldn’t we get rid of Alexander Downer?’ she asked.
Earlier that year, in May 1994, Downer had won the leadership in a ballot with the incumbent leader John Hewson. But while enjoying an immediate spike in approval, Downer’s ratings quickly plummeted on the back of a series of embarrassing public blunders. Joe didn’t flinch. He knew the question was coming because he’d authored it. And he’d practised his answer.
‘You know what, Barb?’ Joe responded. ‘Thanks very much for that question. My view is that we are all part of a team, and if the leader stumbles, our job is to pick him up, dust him off, and move forward side by side.’ Joe knew by the cheers that went up around the room that he’d soon be declared the Liberal Party candidate for North Sydney. And he was. His performance meant he was chosen in the first round, scoring 105 of 199 votes.
Despite the win, for a short while the result mystified Joe and his
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