Photography: Emily Chalk
Dame Joan Withers, 72, has had a long and distinguished career in New Zealand business, with seats on some of our country’s biggest company boards. As the middle of three girls, she immigrated to New Zealand at the age of six from the north of England. Mum Lilian was a nurse, while her father Jack worked 60 hours a week at a tyre factory in Auckland. Self-made and armed only with School Certificate, Joan worked as a bank teller, started a journalism cadetship and raised son Jamie before a Masters in Business Administration changed her life.
She is currently director of Sky Network TV, ANZ New Zealand and Origin Energy. But the business leader and author is most proud of her 54-year marriage to Brian, now retired, and being gran to Indie, 13, and Alex, nine. Chatting from her and Brian’s rural home in South Auckland, Joan also talks candidly about the grief from losing their only son last year.
We’re so sorry to hear your son Jamie died suddenly last October. What’s helped you cope through this time?
It’s been incredibly difficult. If I hadn’t had Brian, I don’t know how I’d have coped. It’s shocking when you read the paper and hear about children dying, but even when your child is 51 and you’re not expecting it, it still gets to the epicentre of who you are. Being a mum has been my role in life and that role has gone. My phone rang at 9.02am on a Saturday morning and Jamie’s name came up as the caller. I thought, “Oh, he must want to catch up.” But when I answered, it was his 13-year-old daughter Indie, screaming that he had collapsed in front of them. So we jumped in the car to be with her and her younger brother Alex, with me saying to Brian as he drove us, “Just don’t think about it, don’t think about it.” We got there and the paramedics came out and met us as the gate, and said, “We’re sorry, he’s passed.” From then on, it was police, coroners, funeral directors. [The Coroner’s Report is still outstanding.]
Do you feel like you’ve begun processing your grief?
Probably not. I’m trying to keep myself distracted and work is the biggest distraction. I indulge myself occasionally, but I can’t do that very often because it takes me down a fairly shocking rabbit hole. We had already booked to go away at Christmas, so we made a decision not long after he died that we would still go and that would be our time to grieve. But, actually, we didn’t want to talk about it. We have pockets of conversation about Jamie’s death. He had not had the best of health, but there’s still a hell of a lot to process. We’ve just got to live our lives now and are absolutely committed to the grandchildren.
What is something you loved about your son?
Jamie had a formidable brain, so I’d use him as a sounding board quite often – for stuff that wasn’t confidential – because my instincts tend to be more reactive, but he was much more considered in his approach. I had him on my 21st birthday, so we’d grown up together. He had a brilliant sense of humour. Oh, he was a shocker. If he thought he could make me laugh in an embarrassing situation, he would try. There were a couple of occasions at King’s College during a church service where he’d see something funny and start elbowing me so I’d get the giggles. He grew up loving animal and adored his kids.
In childhood, money was tight. Did that motivate you?
The most profound realisation was that I wanted to be independent and needed money to be that – I didn’t have aspirations to be rich and famous. My first after-school job was selling shoes on a Friday night. Not being unkind to my mother, but my pay went on things deemed to be the essentials. It was my aunty who bought me my first bra and gave it to me as a Christmas present – highly embarrassing as an 11-year-old.
You met Brian at 15 and got married at 19. What were your first impressions?
Well, my friend Pauline and I would rate all the guys in Papatoetoe. It was a superficial assessment based on looks, where one was the best and 10 the worst. One night, we saw Brian hanging out at The Rhythm Rendezvous – the local record shop – and we thought, “Yeah, he’s a seven.” Then I met him properly at a church dance at the Papatoetoe Rugby Club in 1969. We were very compatible from the start, even with things like sense of humour, because when you get to our stage of married life, you realise how important that is.
Meeting Brian became the impetus for leaving McAuley High School after your final School Cert exam…
Yes. My parents said I could only see him on weekends while I was at school. The compromise, in leaving, was that I had to get a decent job. So I went to the BNZ branch at Queen Street and got a job on the spot. There were four of us girls in the head ledger department, or the “dolly bird” department, because we all wore mini-skirts and false eyelashes to work every day. I was full of myself then, catching the bus from Papatoetoe, wearing a faux-fur white mini coat and white boots.
When you were a stay-at-home mum, tell us how you supplemented the family income through knitting.
My sister Mary saw an ad in the Auckland Star for a boutique in the Strand Arcade which was looking for someone to create knitted garments. So I went for an interview and the guy showed me these men’s designs in Italian magazines and asked, “Can you do these?” I said I’d have a go. He supplied the wool and I bought a knitting machine on hire purchase. It was really challenging to work out how to make them, but once I figured it out, I made 10 a week. At that time, Brian was the breadwinner. He would come home and put his unopened wages on top of the fridge. So I never ever felt like I was being hard-done by. When I went back to work and my career took off, he was happy to supplement our lifestyle with whatever was needed. We’ve never had separate bank accounts.
Do you still use your knitting machine?
Yes, it still appeals to me as a creative hobby. I’m always making stuff for [grandson] Alex and there are a few special men around town who are wearing my V-neck sleeveless vests. I gave one to John Key for his 60th and Stephen Tindall for his 70th.
What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
Doing my MBA at 36, because I didn’t even get University Entrance. So going into this university environment, all I saw were my impediments. But Brian encouraged me to have a go. I had dropped maths in the fourth form and a lot of the papers were maths-oriented – quantitative methods, accounting and financial management, for example. The irony was I adored those and after taking
extra tuition, I did well in those papers.
When women rise through the ranks of business, are they worried about sacrificing a personal life?
Oh, there’s a lot of scepticism about the ability to have it all. I remember there was one other woman doing the MBA with me– her marriage broke up and she was quoted in the media as saying you can’t have it all. But I think lots of people do. I look at Dame Therese Walsh and Alison Gerry – so many of my contemporaries are in really solid relationships and/or have families they are devoted to and are at the pinnacles of New Zealand business. About seven years ago, a group of senior Kiwi businesswomen founded On Being Bold with the key objective of assisting women in reaching their
full career potential while still enjoying a fulfilled personal life. We hold an annual conference each December, which is now one of the largest business events in the calendar.
You’ve shared in your book that your heart stopped during cosmetic surgery. Can you tell us about it?
Well, I had my first facelift in my early fifties, then I felt the need to have a second one. But while I was lying on the table beforehand, I remember having local anaesthetic injected in my face, then the next thing I remember – it’s the weirdest thing – I was sure I was dead. I could see people down the end of the table, and I thought, “Oh, I’ve died.” I could hear them talking about me. Then I thought, “Maybe I’m not dead” and I asked, “Where’s Brian?” because I realised something had happened. Apparently, I had a massive fit and my heart did stop.
Did it leave you with any health anxiety?
No, I still trust my surgeon implicitly. I went back and had the facelift done the following year because lightning never strikes in the same place… I hoped! Cosmetic procedures aren’t the right thing for everybody and I’d hate for anyone to feel they needed to have them. I did them because I wanted to.
