Mayor Phil’s summer uncovered
Once a year, Christchurch City re-elect mayor Phil Mauger trades his sixth-floor office and stretched social calendar for something much simpler – a few weeks by the sea with family. Metropol editor Nina Tucker uncovers the little things that make Ōtautahi’s humble leader truly happy.
Come late December, mayor Phil Mauger will be sitting sea-side with wife Chrissy, watching a horde of grandchildren enjoy their family slice of paradise just outside Kaiteriteri. For 65 years, the 67-year-old mayor has called this place his summer home. “The lovely thing about it is, you go up there with the grandkids, and they go and stub their toe on the same rock I stubbed my toe on when I was their age,” he laughs.
Toe-stubbing aside, it’s the beauty of the place – and the promise of being there with family – that begs his consecutive return. They’ll mountain bike, jet ski, and ferry a “little old boat” to and from Awaroa (a beautifully secluded part of Abel Tasman with no road access). “There’s a place up there that sells beer and pizza,” Phil says with conviction. In short, Phil is never far from his favourite things – family, great fun, and being right in the middle of the action.
Perhaps that’s why he finds it “such a pleasure” going to work each day. When Phil worried the job could end come election day, ironically, wife Chrissy felt an identical fear: Phil’s potentially looming boredom. “Chrissy told me, ‘It’s a good thing you got this job because I wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t.’”
UNFINISHED BUSINESS
Was it an immediate ‘yes’ to campaigning for a re-election? “I’d always wanted to do it for at least two terms,” was Phil’s answer to that question. He had more to give, more to see. Between the world-class Parakiore Recreation and Sports Centre arriving in time for Christmas and One New Zealand Stadium’s April 2026 opening, “I wanted to see those
things through. They’re another cog in the wheel of Christchurch’s success.”
Phil references the city’s shaky history. “If it wasn’t for the earthquakes, we wouldn’t have the city we’ve got. We’ve got all this really good stuff and people moving here left, right and centre. But, we’ve got debt around our neck.” It isn’t lost on him, the infamous economic crisis. Phil faces expanding pressure and expectation around fiscal responsibility, naturally, in a cost of living ‘crunch’. He’s had to prove himself. “I’m interested in making it better, not just standing up and talking.” Phil isn’t driven by becoming the ‘results mayor’ or the ‘people’s mayor’ (although a convincing 20,000 vote margin at the election suggests he might have already achieved the latter), his wish is simple: make Christchurch the best it can be.
For now, he’s a ‘no frills mayor’, one who lives by the rules of his roots. You can take the man out of contracting, but you can’t take the contractor out of the man. “I always get told off for getting down into operational stuff,” Phil laughs. “I just can’t help myself. You must never lose sight of where you came from.” This “little old contractor from Brighton” will always prioritise being out in the city to see what’s happening. “I’ll ask why things are being done a certain way. We need to work with contractors and lean on their strengths.” If he wasn’t “too old for that”, he’d be out with them.
Before he was mayor, Phil was a councillor for the Burwood Ward, and before that, the boss of third-generation company Maugers Contracting. He led the team and the distinguishable fleet of orange trucks as destined by his family, and personal passion. It fueled his inability to sit still – an ‘act now’ attitude that is sometimes to his detriment. “I was probably the bottleneck that stopped [Maugers] from expanding,” Phil says of the family business now under his son and daughter-in-law’s direction. Despite Phil’s fear of being thought of as a ‘talking head’, he rarely turns down an invitation to attend a celebration or give a speech.
I’ve made Phil’s acquaintance more than a few times in a variety of situations, from pouring Monday morning rain or late evenings on the weekend. My takeaway? He always shows up. These are local entrepreneurs and innovators building Christchurch into something better – big or small. “People have got to have faith in you. You don’t want to lock yourself away,” Phil says. “I’d like to apologise to the people I haven’t got to, because you can’t go to everything.”
SWEET ESCAPE
But everyone needs an escape. It’s a lot more work than his earlier years as a councillor. “You could immerse yourself into it to the point you never see the light of day.” Despite a team who “fend off” a lot of ugly and one weekend off work a month with Chrissy, Phil finds he feels better after a few laps at the race track. “If you’ve got mayoral stuff in your head and you go and drive a race car for 100 metres, your mind will be totally clear of anything to do with this place,” he laughs.
When we meet, Phil’s latest head-scratcher is choosing between handfuls of persuasive videos from primary schools pitching their ‘why’ to be the first to ride Parakiore’s hydroslides (hint: Lyttelton Primary won first dibs).
Oftentimes, the work is less nostalgic and more futuristic. Phil’s asked staff to reinvestigate a barrage across the Avon-Heathcote estuary, (“The sea level is going to keep rising. I’m just saying we should look at things differently”), and is “mad keen” on harnessing hydrogen’s zero-emission potential. “Eighty per cent of all New Zealand’s greenhouse gasses come from 800 heavy industry trucks.” A November Council meeting was the “most progressive” he’s ever seen, and Phil wants “Christchurch to have things other cities haven’t got”.
So Phil has hopeful promises for Christchurch, and he knows the gift he’s getting this year (a Kiwi summer filled with love) but that doesn’t mean he knows what’s under the tree for the rest of his family. “Chrissy does the vast majority [of Christmas shopping]. Okay, she does it all,” Phil smiles. “Leave it to them who know best.” It’s not the first time I’ve known a dad or grandad to exhibit the same surprise as the receiver when presents are unwrapped. He leaves me with his classic Christmas dad joke. “I put a lot of effort into that gift.”
MAYOR’S MEMORIES
Your best memory? All citizenship ceremonies! Seeing children in their national dress, shaking people’s hands and welcoming them to New Zealand – you can’t beat it.
Your worst memory? The day before the election in October, when I realised I might not be able to keep doing the job I love.
Your most embarrassing memory? Putting my rusty diving skills to the test jumping off the 5m board at Parakiore Recreation and Sports Centre. It’s such a fantastic facility, but I’ll leave the diving to the pros.
