Bill Mellor, “How Singo coaxed Big Mal to smile,”
The Sun-Herald, March 16, 1980, p. 15.

It’s taping time for the John Singleton Show, and Channel 10 executives are rounding up an instant audience.

Out of a warren of corridors file 20-odd station employees, lured from their desks to witness The Great Interview: Singleton, ocker, versus Fraser, grazier.

“The people from Accounts are always the first to volunteer for audience duty,” a Channel 10 girl confides. “They’re the ones with the most boring jobs.”

Enter our host, scanning the studio seats.

Normally, Singleton doesn’t need the services of Rent-a-Crowd, but today the Fraser segment is being taped early at 4.30 pm — and there aren’t many genuine members of the public passing by at that time of day.

Enter Big Mal, 11 bigger security men and his ubiquitous press officer, David Barnett.

The band strikes up Waltzing Matilda, an overhead light flashes the message “Applause” … and the ladies from Accounts give it all they’ve got.

At first, Fraser’s stiff and formal. But Singleton remains as relaxed as when he’s at the Newtown Leagues Club bar.

Eventually the prime ministerial mouth, so often curled down in the direction of a sneer, begins to show the hint of a smile.

Does the iron fist that rules the country really unclench to lovingly tend camellias at home? Eighty different varieties, no less.

Singleton wonders if Fraser regrets going into politics so young when he could have been “mucking about … with cars, I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” chuckles Fraser.

The interview over, the audience goes back to its ledgers.

Singo, flushing with success at finding a human beneath the consummate politician, declares the PM a really nice bloke.

“Jeez, I’d like to have a beer with him some time,” he says.

Ten minutes later, I find 38-year-old Singleton in his dressing room, swotting up on his guests for that evening.

He usually arrives at the Channel 10 studios at Ryde between 3 and 4 pm so his Rolls doesn’t get stuck in the afternoon rush-hour.

The show goes to air at 10.30 pm four times a week, but it’s recorded two hours earlier, which gives them time for editing.

With memories of Singleton’s first brief and bawdy attempt at hosting a chat show I expect to find the studios awash with booze.

The publicity lady offers me beer. Singleton asks for soda water.

Soda water for the ocker king of Newtown? He takes a sip and pushes the glass away distastefully … then causes another surprise by ordering coffee instead.

“I don’t drink before the show because I forget things,” he says. “Either that or I get the taste for it and go down to the pub and don’t come back.”

The old Saturday night Singleton show laid on free booze for the audience.

These days, everyone’s more abstemious, although the guests can have a snort or two before they go on camera.

“The old show was like a private party to which the whole of Sydney was invited,” says Singo. “Fred Nile said we were all drunk, but the only people who were were the audience. We supplied them liberally — as if they were at a Leagues Club.

“Now, we’re all very Festival of Light.”

Just after 7pm, Singleton’s guests start arriving in the Channel 10 conference room.

The early bird is Leslie Kemeny, studious-looking senior lecturer in nuclear engineering at the University of NSW, who not surprisingly favours uranium mining.

The veteran of a probing ABC interview, he casually sips beer and says Singleton will give him an easier ride than the blokes on Four Corners.

Next to arrive is State MP Jim Cameron, the Fred Nile of the Liberal Party, who’s to take part in the Pub Politics section with tax evasion expert Peter Clyne.

Clyne, a tubby Sidney Greenstreet figure, is making his second appearance on the Singleton show.

“Last time I was on with that Mungo MacCallum,” he tells Cameron. “The man was like a Pekingese — yap, yap, yap.

“I’d never met him before and I hope I never meet him again.”

Clyne and Cameron are to debate whether you should pay tax. They decide their views on the subject aren’t really that far apart — but will make them so for the sake of a good argument.

“We used to be in the same debating society,” says Cameron. “A lot of people just don’t know how to debate these days.”

Wine and food expert Len Evans arrives only a few minutes before he’s due on air.

“You haven’t any Dom Perignon have you?” he asks hopefully, but settles for a glass of beer.

Across the room, cartoonist Larry Pickering and singers Bill and Boyd watch the replay of the Fraser interview.

Pickering’s also been on the show before.

This time, Pickering’s brought along the prize tomatoes he grows on Peats Ridge, crediting their success to liberal doses of “chook poop”.

Singleton’s new show has been on the air for six weeks and, despite a wide variety of guests — Sir William McMahon, Abigail, Ian Chappell, Peter Allen, Al Grassby, Jack and Judy Mundey, Mollie (Are You Being Served) Sugden — its ratings are poor.

Last Monday week, it scored only 2-3 per cent. On Tuesday, the best figure was 4, Wednesday 5 and Thursday 6.

Such performances would drive many a celebrity to the verge of breakdown. Not Singleton.

For one thing, Channel 10 boss Rupert Murdoch wants the show to run four nights a week as a means of educating Australians into watching late-night TV.

For another, Channel 10 spokesmen claim those tiny 2s and 3s represent half Sydney’s viewing audience at that time of night.

Singleton and Murdoch have agreed to give it a go for three months. If it’s a success, Singleton sees himself doing it for a year.

“Ratings? I don’t understand ’em,” grins Singleton. “Everyone I know watches the show.”

He adds: “I spend 20 years making money from advertising — I was Channel 10’s biggest customer — and I never subscribed to ratings.

“But I understand their role — and we’ve got to get better.”

One problem facing Singleton is his ocker image. A documentary of his shown recently on Channel 10 won critical acclaim — yet the ratings were disastrous.

From this, he draws the conclusion that it was his name that put viewers off.

John Singleton, ocker, fight-promoter, once exponent of far-right-wing views, isn’t everyone’s idea of a serious personality.

Executive producer Hankin, a personal friend, is trying hard to improve Singleton’s image.

He defines the underlying theme of the show as “optimism about Australia’s future, with considerable flag-waving.”

And he maintains that, despite the host’s well-known views, the Singleton team bends over backwards to produce balanced shows.