Balloons, brouhaha missing

Press, 28 July 1987, Page 1

Balloons, brouhaha missing

CHRIS MOORE

By

Any political party-goer seeking three hours of torrid political brouhaha would not have found it at last evening’s Labour Party General Election campaign opening at the Christchurch Town Hall.

There were no balloons, no streamers and no plastic boaters.

There was Bunny Walters, McPhail and Gadsby, a band and the Great Unknown Compere of 1987. The Great

Unknown Compere whipped his audience into a frenzy of applause during rehearsals for the Prime Minister’s entry but unfortunately no-one caught his name. But he was Scots and kept insisting that he resembled Mr Lange. If the National Party opening was an example of the fullblooded presidential style of election campaigns, the Labour Party obviously chose a midway approach to Its launching. A move which had the political pundits who had been predict-

Ing a low-key launching nodding sagely. At 6.55 p.m. the sounds of a Maori welcome drifted through into the auditorium from the foyer. At 7 p.m. the lights dimmed and the band struck up.

What seemed to be the entire Labour Party caucus, their wives, children and a Maori concert party suddenly materialised.

Part Two of the 1987 political “Star Wars” had begun. The Labour Empire was about to strike back.

The audience numbering between 1599 and 1809 reacted with a standing ovation. At two minutes before eight, the lights went out, the television camera crews made their final adjustments, and heralded by the sound of “Pokare kare ana,” the Prime Minister, Mr Lange, strode on stage on cue.

The familiar Lange adjustment to the suit jacket, a standing ovation but still no streamers or balloons. Even the New Zealand flag at

the back of the hall was a discreetly smaller version of the National Party’s backdrop. By the final curtain, the band was playing, the Labour Party caucus and local candidates were standing smiling on stage and bouquets and applause were sweeping across the hall. “He spoke from the‘heart — right from the heart,” an elderly woman said. Finally, it had arrived — the stuff of which presidential campaigns are made.