Paul Henry’s naked truth
Broadcaster opens up on marriage, death and nudity in new memoir Never far from controversy while he was on-screen, Paul Henry has found freedom and happiness while pursuing his own American dream. By Bevan Hurley.
As much as Paul Henry’s life seems to have been an open book, given his ubiquity on our TV screens and radio airwaves over the past few decades, he’s never really spoken about his personal life: until now.
In his new book I’m in a United State, Henry criss- crosses the North American continent in his Ford Mustang, finding wonder and excitement in the everyday, interspersing his discoveries with personal tales of weddings, friendship, death and nudity.
His third memoir was written over six months this year as Covid-19 swept the world and political animus reached a crescendo in the US. And while the book doesn’t ignore these events, there’s a lightness to it that harkens back to simpler times.
‘‘ The journey is a journey through my mind rather than a journey through the United States,’’ he says.
I’m in a United State covers Henry’s search for a forgotten America of interstate highways and aliens, of Elvis and beef jerky, of random encounters with drug dealers in the car park of cheap motels, and of penthouse suites at the Bellagio.
It’s a paean of praise to America, where the worldfamous-in-New Zealand semiretired broadcaster can be himself, where he can be nobody.
‘‘There are no expectations on me,’’ says Henry on Friday afternoon as he watches the cows meander around his farm on the Kaipara Harbour.
‘‘I do whatever I like and I can reap the riches of America’s past. It’s America’s past that has infected me my whole life ever since watching The Beverly Hillbillies as a kid.
‘‘There’s something extraordinarily freeing about America,’’ he says. ‘‘You pull off the road and go into a service station and sit down and pour yourself a wine. And it’s just so liberating, and you think ‘ why don’t I just stay here all afternoon, I can probably get a room next door in the brothel’.
‘‘ It could be argued that I’m remembered more in New Zealand for my failures than for my achievements, whereas over there it’s just wonderful.’’
Henry has been spending at least half the year in the US since buying a property there in 2016. In the book, we’re introduced to his Palm Springs posse of mischievous retirees who love nothing more than to drink cocktails while unclothed in the pool.
Amongst this latter- day Rat Pack, Henry is both the newcomer and, at 60, by far the youngster of the group.
There’s Mary and Jim, both well into their 80s, and Daisy, Don and Duane. Henry acts as a sort of chaperone as the crew go on trips to Costco in the Winnebago or order from the over 55s menu at Denny’s.
It’s a far cry from Remuera, where the neighbours complain to his wife, Diane Foreman, that they are able to see Henry’s privates through the fence.
The chapter covering their wedding in March this year follows a structure that’s repeated throughout the book.
It begins, as expected, with a frisson of excitement about the pending nuptials.
But then it takes a sharp detour to a place called Salvation Mountain, an enormous pseudoreligious art installation made of rocks and tyres in the Coachella Valley in southern California, created over decades by a local man named Leonard Knight.
‘‘ It’s a very special place for me,’’ says Henry.
‘‘The geology of the place is so rough, but the winds, the sand, the scorching heat, the freezing cold, wasn’t a match for this one old guy and litres and litres of latex paint. It’s an extraordinary thing. You can be a complete f…. nutter, and people will think ‘oh you’re a nutter, good for you’.’’
The chapter returns to Henry and Foreman exchanging vows, with guests at the fabulously wealthy couple’s mansion giggling at the line ‘‘ for richer or poorer’’.
Henry’s three daughters and constant travelling companions Sophie, Lucy and Bella, feature prominently throughout. And he shares intimate details of the death of his mother, Olive, who illustrated his first two bestsellers.
Henry also lets his guard down on some of his close friendships.
There’s Sir John Key, ‘‘ perhaps’’ his best male friend.
Henry admits that he wondered for a long time if they were actually friends, or merely engaged in a mutually beneficial onscreen bromance while Key was prime minister, and Henry hosted various TV and radio shows.
He’s decided they are in fact good friends, so much so that they’ve been workshopping an idea for a live show where they tour the country, debating and chatting.
There’s also the deep con
nection forged over copious amounts of red wine with Sam Hunt, and meetings of minds with all kinds of interesting people from Billy Connolly to Helen Clark.
The chapter on Hollywood fitness guru Richard Simmons is perhaps his most poignant.
After sharing a close friendship over many years, Simmons fell off the face of the earth in 2014. Henry tries again and again to contact his friend, without success, and the lingering uncertainty still troubles him.
Henry doesn’t shy away from his challenges with dyslexia and obsessive-compulsive disorder. The fact that he can only increase the volume on the car stereo by increments of three, meaning it’s either too loud or too soft, is just another part of life.
But one question remains while reading the brutally honest account: How did he get so filthy rich?
‘‘ I’ve risked a lot over the years,’’ says Henry. ‘‘ I think I knew I had to take financial risks when I was much younger. When I think back I had a wife and three toddlers, and I was literally risking everything I had buying businesses, buying buildings.’’
He says he’s done well from property.
‘‘Looking back at the time I could least afford to take risks I was taking them without even thinking about them. There was this certain knowledge that everything was going to be OK and I was going to be great.’’
Henry reveals how he looked at buying MediaWorks’ television arm, and had a plan to close down the news operation, and focus on local productions of current affairs and reality television.
It was eventually sold to Discovery, but Henry says there was a very real chance for a while that the whole operation could have been closed down if a buyer hadn’t come along.
He’s aware the disclosure will rankle a few of his colleagues at Three, where he is presenting a US election day special on Wednesday.
‘‘It comes back to my honesty. I could easily not have put that stuff about TV3 in there but it is very much about that sequence of events in the first six months of this year. These were things that were going through my mind. I remember writing it down going, ‘am I buying trouble here?’ But I don’t give a s....’’
It’s clear from the book that Henry is taking a lot of joy from life, has a child- like wonder of seeing the world anew, and finding his place in it.
He hopes it will remind New Zealanders of just how interwoven their country’s culture is with the United States’.
‘‘I’ve certainly not glorified it, there’s a lot of s... going down there, but in the great scheme of things it’s a great place.’’