THE LAST DAYS OF BILLY T JAMES
Peter Rowley, left
BILLY T JAMES got the news that his death was imminent in Auckland’s Green Lane Hospital.
He interrupted head cardiologist Trevor Agnew as he nervously delivered the grim news to one of New Zealand’s greatest comedians.
‘‘Let me tell you a story,’’ James said. He told the joke about the ‘‘quack’’ who asked his patient if he wanted the bad news or the very bad news first. The bad news is that he has only 24 hours to live; the very bad news is that the doctor was meant to tell him yesterday.
William James Te Wehi Taitoko, or Billy T James, died of heart failure on August 7, 1991, 22 years ago this week. He was 43.
The grief felt at his death was exacerbated by a family fight over his body, which was seized from his home and taken to his tribal marae in Huntly and Ngaruawahia – against the wishes of his widow, Lyn.
Peter Rowley, a long-time collaborator and good friend, was in a hotel in The Terrace in Wellington when the news came on TV1. He was about to address 500 people at a Wellington Rugby Union awards dinner. He dried the tears and got on stage. Afterwards, the chairman stood up and told the crowd James had died.
‘‘Never in my life have I heard such a sound,’’ Rowley said this week, remembering the collective sigh from 500 people. ‘‘Billy had been telling people he was fine.’’
The pair met years earlier at a cafeteria at TVNZ in Auckland and clicked instantly. ‘‘He’s in the heart of New Zealand because he had that X-factor,’’ Rowley said. ‘‘That cheeky little Maori, heh heh . . . he got under your skin. Not only because he was extraordinarily talented, but his personality was loveable. That’s how he should be remembered.’’
That James made a joke when he found out he would soon die comes as no surprise to Rowley. After a heart transplant in 1989, James faked a heart attack at a party. ‘‘There was always, always humour.’’
James grew up across the road from a meat rendering plant in Waikato, where his father worked. When the family moved to Whangarei, James took his first steps into entertainment, playing guitar and saxophone in a school band.
He later did stints as a signwriter’s apprentice and drove trucks in Auckland.
Biographer Matt Elliott says James once applied to become a traffic officer – a career he later lampooned in sketches.
In his mid-20s, he was invited to join show band the Maori Volcanics. It was a path that would see him tour the world and learn a life lesson: ‘‘I learned from [British comedian] Tommy Cooper that people could get away with anything if it was done in the right way.’’
He soon struck out solo, dropping the Taitoko and rearranging his names to Billy T James, reputedly to ‘‘something the Aussies could pronounce’’.
By 1979 he won the Golden Microphone for New Zealand’s most professional act; in 1981 he was entertainer of the year; from 1983-84, television’s most popular entertainer; then in 1985 became entertainer of the decade.
His mimicry skills were legendary. He had his own TV show for a large part of the 1980s. The Billy T James Show included some of the best-known skits in New Zealand comedy history.
There was his unique take on the Lands for Bags commercials, switching the end of the catchline –‘‘Where did I get my bag? Lands for Bags, of course’’ – to ‘‘I pinched it’’.
He taught us how to buy a car, he fuelled trans-Tasman rivalry, opened up the racial politics of chess, and had his own take on Maori news. Te News – where his famous black singlet and yellow towel around the neck was introduced – had breaking news such as the toilet seat stolen from a police station: ‘‘The cops have nothing to go on.’’
A sitcom and movie roles would follow. In 1986, James was made an MBE for services to entertainment. That year almost half the population, more than were watching the news, tuned into the Billy T James Show.
There are many anecdotes. Rowley remembers whenever they went to parties, there was an instrument lying around and James could play them all.
There was a harp at one party. ‘‘I said, ‘Go on, bro,’ he said, ‘No worries, bro.’ ’’ He picked it up and played it beautifully.
At another party there was a trombone. ‘‘I thought, I got him,’’ but James picked it up and played a Last Post- type tune. ‘‘I said, ‘Now you got me.’ ’’