The surfers had called her up to unblock an impasse denying them beach access via the grounds of the Stockton Centre aged care hospital.

It should be easy. But like most things around here, it isn't. The discussion requires the co-operation of a whole range of government departments and local utilities. The too-hard basket is yawning wide. But the politician has been working the phones, knocking on doors. She believes she has a solution. Quietly impressed that she's taken the effort, the surfers mock-formally present her with a club T-shirt. Laughing, she pulls it on and poses for a group photo, all the while exchanging congenial jibes with the surf team.

Observing this tiny fragment of local action, you wonder if a few of the crew might be adjusting their thinking about Jodi McKay. Who knows, maybe some will vote for her - providing, of course, she makes it to poll day in March 2011.

Everybody around here knows Jodi McKay, if not personally then at least by sight. She is Minister for Tourism and Minister for the Hunter in the NSW state government. Before she started representing Newcastle in the NSW Legislative Assembly she was a journalist and newsreader on NBN Television. And that's not necessarily a good thing. Many of us form hard-edged views about the talking heads that lob into our living rooms.

In 2006 she ticked off the rank-and-file of Newcastle's Labor left when premier Morris Iemma personally intervened to ensure her candidature. After a bitterly fought '07 election campaign she won a tight three-way contest from the former member Bryce Gaudry and Newcastle lord mayor John Tate.

In her previous life as a news presenter, McKay had the luxury of looking at the world in hindsight. Unless we're race tipsters or editing the horoscope column, that's what journalists do. But right now, in the rough realm of politics, she is studying the tea leaves for a sign of what the next four months might hold. Few, least of all a first-term member, can predict how it will play. These are strange days in Hunter political life, a time without precedent.

McKay has a press clipping from September 2006 announcing her candidature. She came across it early this month and it jogged the memory of what has transpired in these past four years. It hasn't been fun.

"There hasn't been a single day when it hasn't been incredibly tough and challenging," she reflects.

In this day and age, they say women can have it all - career, great partner, gorgeous kids, the whole shebang. But, from where McKay is standing, that image is hard to glimpse. From the fifth-floor harbourside office where the Minister for the Hunter is ploughing through a relentless schedule it's all but invisible. And, besides, there's no time to look.

A fortnight ago, against the advice of a few close non-political friends, McKay announced she would be seeking preselection as a Labor candidate to recontest the seat of Newcastle. By midday, the Herald's website was aflame with reader comments, some supportive, many as caustic as it gets. Nobody can remember a politician from these parts who drew such potent opinions. It's been that way from 2006 when she first declared her intention to run.

"I went door-knocking the very next day after announcing my candidature and encountered that whole wave of anti-Jodi sentiment, or whatever it was."

Without a trace of bitterness she adds: "It still exists in parts."

There are plenty to say she deserves it. She is still condemned by Newcastle's Labor left for being the candidate picked by head office over rank-and-file preselection, the GPT debacle occurred on her watch, the anti-coal lobby see her as an apologist for that industry, she hasn't opposed the Tillegra Dam proposal, the divisive rail debate dragged on and the government in which she serves has been on the nose for too long.

Combine all that sentiment and you have a pretty compelling argument as to why the former newsreader won't get two terms in the NSW parliament. Her friends wouldn't mind that outcome at all. They believe she would be better off out of it.

At a recent breakfast meeting with a pair of civic leaders McKay counts as confidantes, one queried her about the prospects of a second term.

The other interrupted: "Get out of it now. Go and do something for yourself. Start a family."

That may well be an option. In August last year, she was in France celebrating her 40th with partner Stephen Fenn when he popped the question. Neither the minister nor her fiance, who is Planning Minister Tony Kelly's chief of staff, has announced a wedding date. But friends concerned for her personal welfare are quietly happy that her days of singledom are done.

McKay won't talk about it on the record but those closest to her in the early days of her 2006-07 campaign remain shocked by the violent and sexual nature of the abuse directed at the then single woman by a strident few. The late-night filthy phone calls, the vile graffiti and property damage were constant. Her critics might dismiss it as the robust nature of politics, but this was in an entirely different league. One veteran of more than a dozen campaigns never encountered anything so torrid.

"It was truly shocking and it certainly didn't come from the community. She was copping this at a time when her father had been hospitalised with a severe stroke. I really don't know how she managed to stand up to it."

On one of the worst nights, she might have been fighting back tears of disbelief when she remarked to a friend: "You know, they would never do this to a man."

Publicly, McKay didn't wilt under fire. Today, she isn't sure whether the flak has diminished among the haters but is optimistic others may be adjusting their views.

"I think people are acknowledging the way I do things is different to how they've been done before," she says.

"Nobody tells you how to be an MP. I walked into my electorate office to discover that the previous member had shredded everything. We had to start from scratch.

"I had 18 months to get my head around what an MP does. Then I went into a ministerial role. Since September 2008, I've had eight ministerial portfolios. But the one that requires my complete attention is the Hunter, because there is no agency attached to being Minister for the Hunter."

Weekender breaks off the interview to sit in with McKay on a meeting with Maitland Business Chamber about city renewal. The mood is friendly, efficient and constructive as they work through the agenda. When it is done, the minister offers a summary of exactly the points of action she will take and the agencies she will contact on their behalf. They depart, clearly satisfied with the hearing.

The conversation among the non-aligned is that she deserves another term. The phrase that keeps coming through is "worked hard".

Opinions may have changed but Newcastle City independent councillor Aaron Buman doesn't believe her enemies have quit their watch.

"There is still so much hate out there," he says. "I really don't think they can just put that aside.

"But, love or her hate her, you have to admit, she's done a job. Unlike the rest, she's stuck her head up and had a go. Talking to people wherever you go, they're saying that she's got things done."

He ticks off a list that mentions the coastal revitalisation plan, the return of Nobbys Headland to the community, the purchase of the decaying Newcastle Post Office and Empire Hotel, the launching of the $95 million law precinct plan and the release of the remaining marketable Honeysuckle land.

Then there's the other end of the spectrum. City workers near her office regularly spot her in earnest conversation with homeless folk and street people. For better or worse, her Bolton Street base is one of the liveliest electorate offices in the state.

"Because we're in the CBD, close to law courts, public transport and we have one of the highest levels of public housing, it is very busy," she says. "We deal with about three-and-a-half-thousand individual constituent issues a year. You can't help getting emotionally involved in some of those issues, but that's what being an MP is all about."

Aaron Buman: "The word on the street is that she's done enough to get re-elected."

Recently, the Herald ran a cartoon by Peter Lewis depicting three desks occupied by Hunter Labor MPs, the flurry of activity at the McKay desk compared with the inactivity at the other two suggesting the magnitude of her workload.

But is hard work enough?

Kaye Simmons, McKay's campaign director in 2007, would like to think so.

"Labor's problem here in Newcastle has been that for too long candidates have been chosen according to whose turn it is as opposed to who has the talent to do the job."

McKay believes that there are two types of politicians. There are those who spend most of their time in office opposing things while garnering momentary lustre by standing next to a minister when an announcement is made. And there are those who get things done.

"I've always been results-driven," she says.

Simmons concedes McKay's nomination was controversial.

"But I've never seen anybody work so hard," she notes.

Even Sharon Claydon, a Newcastle City councillor seen as the left's likely choice to succeed Labor's Sharon Grierson in the federal seat of Newcastle, concedes McKay has delivered.

"I think she's worked hard as a minister and put runs on the board. I make no bones about it - I've always advocated rank-and-file preselection. But Jodi has a good record to take to the membership and ask for their support."

Recent history hasn't been kind to political celebrities. The record shows that star recruits - if that's what you can call McKay - rarely go the distance.

As one of Australia's sharpest media interviewers, Maxine McKew was politically astute enough to roll John Howard in Bennelong only to find herself friendless within the ALP factions. Peter Garrett has found no new fan base in politics. Cheryl Kernot, Brendan Nelson, Pat Farmer and Malcolm Turnbull all bear the scars. In NSW, Phil Koperberg's reputation as a hero in a time of bushfire emergency was no guarantee. He fell to factional fire, killed off by his supposed Labor allies. In Victoria, Mary Delahunty, another ABC star-turned-Labor candidate, fled politics to write a memoir about a depressing and bruising time.

The initial lustre the celebrity candidate brings to the project does not engender long-term loyalty among the rank and file who put more store in those who waited long for the chance and bided their time among the branches.

On the other hand, critics of the rank-and-file process claim it tosses up party hacks rather than genuine talent. They may have a case. With ALP national membership down to 44,000, the talent pool is alarmingly shallow.

For years, the failure of a blue-ribbon Labor heartland like the Hunter to deliver talent has been the cause for frustration in both Sydney and Canberra. Today, it seems more than coincidence that the region's two most powerful and hardworking politicians are both relative newcomers, star recruits "parachuted" in by the head office. Greg Combet, the federal Member for Charlton, is Minister for Climate Change; Jodi McKay is Minister for Tourism and the Hunter.

This region may well be a test case for an issue that goes to the very heart of how Labor identifies political talent in a time of declining membership when the average ALP branch is seen as elderly, emaciated and out of touch with the community.

Among the terms of reference of a current party-wide review is "the need to broaden participation to ensure a greater say for members, supporters and stakeholders" and "the need to improve dialogue and engagement between progressive Australians and the party, including progressive third-party organisations".

McKay is not involved in this debate. She has more pressing issues. Sensing the possibility that her career might be snuffed out any time soon, she is pushing herself, staff and bureaucrats to get jobs done.

Aaron Buman was impressed when, on her elevation as Minister for the Hunter, McKay called all key players from government departments, utilities, local government and other stakeholders to a meeting.

"It was amazing seeing these people, many being introduced to each other for the first time."

So much of McKay's work behind the scenes has focused on removing the "cross-agency disconnects" - the myriad bureaucratic speed humps that impede progress, stall initiative and have projects returned to the too-hard basket. She hasn't done it on her own.

One of her most valuable aides has been senior public servant Warwick Watkins, who among many roles, chairs the region's Renewal Steering Committee.

"He's the most outcomes-driven and visionary CEO of any government agency," the minister says. "No matter how hard I've pushed him to deliver, he just keeps doing it.

"'With all senior representatives plus [Newcastle City Council chief executive] Lindy Hyam on that committee, for the first time we're seeing all our cross-agency work delivering results."

McKay cites the city's new legal precinct project as an example.

"The Attorney General has made a decision to go ahead with the justice precinct, not in isolation but with a genuine understanding of exactly how it fits into the city's renewal effort. Finally, we're all working as one."

The minister's alliance with Lindy Hyam shouldn't be under-estimated.

Aaron Buman: "That relationship is driving this city at the moment. Jodi has come into the job and started sorting out 16 years of inactivity. At last, they're getting things done."

Jodi Leyanne McKay was born in Gloucester, started university in Newcastle, scored a job in NBN's library and was offered a chance at a journalism internship. Fellow journos not burdened by the print media's traditional bias against TV "talent" had a regard for her ability. She won awards for the quality of her reporting before switching from the road to the studio. As a newsreader she became a familiar face in every Hunter household at a time when NBN's evening bulletin pulled metropolitan-size audiences.

Newcastle business identity and philanthropist Geoff Leonard says he was "delighted" to learn in 2006 that McKay had decided to run for election.

"I knew she could contribute much to Newcastle," he tells Weekender.

In 1998 Leonard was serving as the inaugural chairman of the Hunter Medical Research Institute (HMRI). McKay was working in the foundation's fund-raising arm in an honorary capacity.

The previous year, she had been a key player on NBN's telethon raising $3 million for children's cancer research. That project gave rise to a small group backing an initiative to grow the medical research industry in Newcastle.

The University of Newcastle, Hunter-New England Health Service and the community came together to form HMRI.

Leonard: "That's when I first got to know her and witness how much energy she exerted in the role and her generous contribution to the community."

He encouraged her to stand as chair of the foundation, a position that placed her on the HMRI board.

"I noticed her business acumen and all-round abilities first-hand."

Twelve years on, HMRI is one of the state's leading medical research bodies.

In the scrutiny that followed McKay's 2006 decision to run, little mention was made of her honorary HMRI contribution. Instead, the focus remained on her television role despite the fact that she no longer worked in that industry. At the time of her nomination McKay had been working alongside close friend and fellow Gloucester-product Lisa Sutton, building Enigma into Newcastle's largest advertising agency. Her account executive role added to her networking strength and understanding of the key players throughout the region. But it wasn't merely the big end of town.

In her maiden parliamentary speech, the Member for Newcastle acknowledged the work of her campaign director Kaye Simmons who this week was reflecting on the pivotal plays during a time when McKay's candidature had split the Labor ranks.

"The union movement was absolutely fabulous," Simmons recalls . "Kevin Maher of the Australian Workers Union and Kath Evans of the Meatworkers came out and backed her. One from the right of the union movement and the other from the left. And then Jimmy Boyle from the Maritime Union also had a contribution. It was all critical."

Another worthwhile contributor was the Member for Heffron, Kristina Keneally.

"She has been supportive right from the outset," Simmons affirms. "They're very similar people - like two peas in a pod. During that campaign Kristina rang Jodi every day and has remained a great supporter ever since. The alliance became even more important for the Hunter when Keneally succeeded Nathan Rees in the top job.

Last month, when the Premier landed in town to launch the David Beckham extravaganza, the media ruck grabbed the chance to quiz Keneally about McKay's re-election prospects if she was obliged to face a rank-and-file preselection.

"Why don't you ask her yourself," Keneally almost bristled. "She's standing here right next to me. I'm a believer in strong women being able to speak for themselves and Jodi is a strong woman."

The Keneally-McKay alliance has put the Hunter on the Premier's radar as never before. Like McKay, Keneally now refers to Newcastle as "NSW's second city".

McKay: "Kristina was the one who transferred Hunter Development Corporation to me as Minister for the Hunter. That was really critical because, for the first time, it provided a growth centre that could be directed from the region."

The strength of the Keneally-McKay alliance prompts another question. In the event of her own party abandoning her at branch level, would she possibly consider going it alone?

Any number of her non-aligned supporters, appalled by her treatment by the Newcastle left and frustrated by state government inaction on city renewal, would like to see her bale out of a doomed ALP and have a crack as an independent. In light of her allegiance to the premier, that's unlikely to happen. It would take a weird turn of events between now and March for McKay to abandon Keneally in her greatest political fight.

But, then again, these are weird times. The political pace for anybody wearing as many hats as McKay is exhausting. If there were 10 days in a week, it wouldn't be enough.

It's how many political days to Christmas?

Weekender is pondering just that point when the Minster for the Hunter breaks her train of thought to say:

"Hey, you should see my backyard! I've been busy. I have to. It's my turn to host the family for Christmas, so I'm on a deadline to get it finished."

It leaves you wondering what might be gift-wrapped for her under the Christmas tree.

A life, perhaps.