Popular broadcaster Mike Puru, 50, has been a constant voice and TV presence in Kiwi households for more than 30 years, hosting popular shows like The Bachelor NZ and The Café, as well
as a stint presenting the weather on the 6pm news.
His rural upbringing near Gore saw him named as Southland Child Dog Handler of the Year before a tragic house fire unexpectedly – and fortuitously – changed his teen years and he became head boy of his Catholic high school.
Now the Drive host on The Breeze radio station, Mike lives on Auckland’s North Shore with his French partner of 13 years Anton Chartier and their sprocker spaniel Hani.
We’re sorry to hear that your father Wayne, 67, passed away from a two-year battle with bowel cancer. What was your time like together at the end?
Dad was still working two weeks up until he died. He was a knife technician for Silver Fern Farms in Timaru. My mum Diana told me he was on the decline, but that he probably wouldn’t “pop off” in the next few weeks. My partner Anton convinced me to go down, so I got there on the Wednesday.
On the Sunday morning, we were lying in bed, chatting about life, watching the TV show Restaurant: Impossible together. Dad and I laughed about how we both google the restaurants in the show to see if they still exist.
Later that day, Mum and I popped into town for something to eat and Dad goes, “Okay, go have some fun!” Those were the last words he said to me.
My nephew rang us saying, “You better come home.” Mum got there for his last breaths. Dad died at 3pm that afternoon. In a funny way, I was very grateful it happened that way. The hardest part was telling his mother, my nana Shirley, that her son had died.
What helped you through that emotional time?
I met the most amazing doctor from Timaru Hospice, Catherine D’Souza. All the hospice staff are incredible at guiding you through everything. The hospice doctor called a kaumātua to bless the house and he asked if we had a casket sorted. We said no, so he arranged to get a flax one woven for Dad. It was beautiful. A local woman and her children made it in four hours. The doctor also came to his funeral.
How did your father inspire you?
He had come from a pretty tough background. He was a hard worker who wanted everyone to be happy. Mum and Dad were from two completely different cultural backgrounds in a time where acceptance was hard. They fought through it, became teenage parents at 17 and stayed together. He taught me patience and resilience.
What is a defining moment from your childhood?
I was nine when our house burnt down from an electrical fire in Waikoikoi [near Gore] and we lost everything. But the community looked after us. The farmers gave us goods – a neighbour put us up in his farmhouse while we sorted out what would happen next. Clothes and appliances would be dropped off. People really cared.
Were you away from the house at the time?
I was at Boys Brigade camp. Everyone was getting picked up from the camp opposite our house – which had burned down two hours before! I came over the hill and saw all these fire trucks.
My Nana said, “You’re lucky, you’ve still got a suitcase full of clothes.”
But this incident started another trajectory in my life. While the house was burning down, a random stranger – who turned out to be the deputy principal of St Peter’s College in Gore – stopped to help Mum, who was a dog breeder for the police force, get the German shepherds out of their kennels. He asked her questions about us kids and said, “Well, I don’t know if you guys are Catholic, but maybe we can help you out with the secondary schooling.”
Was your family religious?
We had never attended church, so I can’t remember if I was raced down the road to get baptised! But St Peter’s College was where I got into performance, hosting the school radio show and I became head boy.
The Catholic education taught me good morals and respect. If the house hadn’t burned down and he had never driven past, who knows where I would’ve ended up? All those moments play into the greater picture of your life.
You came out as gay live on air 15 years ago. In hindsight, would you do anything differently?
I would’ve done it earlier – for my own sanity – but I didn’t want to embarrass my parents. They worked in a staunch industry – the freezing works. I was nervous to tell them, but I sent them an email explaining that my flatmate at the time was actually my partner. Mum was coming to stay and I didn’t want it to be weird. To be honest, Dad was better about it than Mum, who worried for my future.
Dad said, “I got your email – as long as you’re happy, mate, I don’t care. It doesn’t worry me.”
There weren’t many visibly gay broadcasters back then…
No, although I’ve since heard of those who lived their life in the closet for years. I’m glad I didn’t have to live that life. Bizarrely, the thing which also scared me into keeping it secret was a satirical TV show going to my hometown and calling it “Gay Man’s Gore”.
I thought, “The last thing Gore needs is me coming out.” But I’d got the wrong end of the stick, and it had just found the town really homophobic and wanted to point that out.
Did you ever want to be a father?
Not really. Anton thought of being a sperm donor for a friend – it would have given us some connection to little ones, which was a great compromise – but it never eventuated.
You joked about the 14-year age gap between you and Anton. Do others?
Only I do. Once we were in Fiji and a lady said, “Oh, it’s a father-son trip, is it?” which made us laugh later.
Last year, you turned 50, ran a half-marathon and moved out of the inner city to the suburbs. Is that your version of a midlife crisis, Mike?
Anton and I decided to readjust our lifestyle and finances. When Dad got diagnosed with cancer – before getting to retire – it made me realise I didn’t want to be a slave to the rhythm. I don’t know why
I was chasing this dream of a white villa in Ponsonby. So we bought a more affordable house in the burbs where our family from France and Southland can stay. You’ll find us painting a room on the weekend or Anton digging the garden.
Can you speak French or te reo?
I only know the basics. I’m terrible. Because I do radio for a job, I get sick of talking. A lot of people come up and talk to me in Māori, then I have to acknowledge that I don’t understand. But they go, “There’s still plenty of time.” That’s encouraging.
Is there an on-air moment that still haunts you?
Yes, it was my first interview on the breakfast show alongside Jay-Jay [Feeney] and Dom [Harvey], speaking with Tom Cruise for his movie War of the Worlds. My dad used to have The War of the Worlds album, so I asked the question: How do you take an album and turn it into a movie? Tom laughed at me and asked, “Are you the new guy? Well, mate, it’s not a complicated process.” I felt so embarrassed.
Any other memorable celebrity interviews?
I flew to Sydney to interview Britney Spears a week after September 11. Her publicist said we weren’t to bring it up in the press conference they were holding.
So I asked Britney, “When was the last time you cried?”
She got really sad and talked about the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and how she cried on the plane to Australia because she didn’t want to be away from her family. The publicist gave me a dirty look. When we headed back to the hotel room, I turned on CNN. Along the news ticker it said “Britney Spears breaks down in press conference” and I high-fived myself.
You’re hosting The House of Wellness podcast, while your dear friend and broadcaster Mel Homer recovers from cancer. What did her shock diagnosis teach you?
To get your annual checks and not be so consumed by things that don’t matter. It’s been such a tough period for her, but she’s now on the recovery road. I was stoked she came into the studio recently to do an interview with me, but she admitted afterwards it exhausted her.
Is there a moment that makes you laugh from working together on The Café?
At the end of each show, we got to try the cooking. But I would always make sure in the script that Mel would say the last few lines so I could start eating first. By the time she finished her lines, there was only a little bit left and the crew would want some. It used to really annoy her!
Do you have a favourite food memory?
The night before Dad died, he ordered two dozen battered oysters and sat there on the couch waiting to eat with me, like a last supper. Every time I eat battered oysters now, I’m going to think of him.
Listen to Mike weekdays from 3-7pm on The Breeze and 8am Sundays hosting The House of Wellness.
