
Show Notes
The 1972 Munich Olympics was meant to be a festival of sport. But that's not how it turned out. Produced by Sonia Sly. The 1972 Munich Olympics was meant to be a festival of summer sport. "A policeman was shouting at me to stay in our quarters" "I was brought up to shoot straight and tell the truth," says Bruce McMillan (76) - a professional target pistol shooter based in Whanganui. McMillan's shooting career began in the mid 1960s. A recreational pistol shooter today, he has competed in two Commonwealth Games, a world champs, and was one of 89 Kiwis competing at the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich. This particular Olympic Games had been the biggest at the time, with more than seven thousand competitors and it was an event kicked off to a celebratory start with an impressive venue. "The atmosphere at the Games was absolutely fantastic...it was a summer festival of sport," recalls McMillan. By the time the Olympics were halfway through, McMillan had already completed his part of games. "I finished in the middle of the field with the world champion close to my score," he says. Josef Zapedski, a cavalry officer from Communist Poland, had taken out the title, winning a new Olympic record of 595 out of 600. McMillan says Zapedski wasn't the most talkative man, but given the Cold War was taking place, and Poland was bleak, this was almost to be expected. But it was on 5th September 1972 that the atmosphere at the Olympics would turn sour. It was dawn and there was a bit of commotion taking place outside. People were being shooed away by police, according to McMillan who headed outside to take a peek. "That's when I got shouted at," he says. "A very well-built policeman in a leather overcoat was shouting at me to stay in our quarters." McMillan only knew a few words in German and couldn't make out what was going on. But when he headed down to the village car park on a day trip out of the Olympic Village, he saw confirmation that something big had just taken place. "They were bringing Weinberg's body out on a gurney," he says of Moshe Weinberg - the coach of the Israeli weightlifting team. McMillan was staying in the men's-only quarters, about 40 to 50 metres away from where the shooting had occurred. He never heard the shot that killed Weinberg. Eleven Israeli athletes were being held hostage by members of a Palestinian group called Black September who were making a political statement calling for the release of just over 200 Palestinians and non-Arabs imprisoned in Israel. … Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details
More from Eyewitness
Is this what it's like to die? This was one of the thoughts drifting through sixteen year old Barry Watkins mind as he clung on to the edge of his brand new surfboard. In a story of terror and survival Barry recalls what it was like to come face-to-face with a great white - the fifth shark attack in Dunedin history. Out in the ocean, a dark shadow lurks beneath the surface unbeknownst to the person swimming above. And what that individual doesn't know is that he's about to be caught in the teeth of an unwieldy, man-eating shark. "The first thing I had to do was find out where the shark was...I was absolutely petrified."
Rugby legend Sir Bryan Williams made All Blacks rugby history as the first player of Pasifika blood to play in Apartheid-era South Africa in the early 1970s. He talks to Sonia Yee about the cultural obstacles and challenges heading into the three-month tour, what it meant for Black South Africans and why he's advocating for Pasifika players today through Moana Pasifika. Today, Pasifika players are commonplace in the All Blacks, and rugby in general. But that hasn't always been the case. During Sir Bryan Williams' time there were cultural barriers. Listen to the podcast to find out what it took for Sir Bryan Williams to alter rugby history The year was 1970 when a shy, 19-year-old Bryan Williams was selected to play for The All Blacks. It was an exciting and daunting time. "I was selected alongside many of my heroes - Colin Meads, Brian Lochore, Malcolm Dick, and a whole array of top players who I'd spent the 1960s absolutely idolising, and then suddenly I was selected alongside them, so I was terrified," Williams recalls. "Coming into the All Blacks, you're always under pressure. There's the expectation that you live up to what the jersey stands for." Williams was only just getting used to the spotlight in his rookie year, when he was selected for a three-month tour to play against the Springboks in apartheid-era South Africa. While Williams was not the first Pasifika player to join the All Blacks - Walter Batty, and brothers Frank and Dave Solomon came well before him - Williams would be the first to travel there, but not without some anxiety leading up to the tour. The system of apartheid, which translates as 'apartness' in Afrikaans was built on a legislation of separatism and racial segregation under a white-led National Government. Formally coming into law in 1950, apartheid kept those of black and coloured skin completely separate from whites in the public domain. Designated areas were set up on the basis of skin colour. 'Whites Only' signs would be seen hanging in shop windows, on park benches, at entrance ways to cafes and restaurants, and even access ways to beaches. Interracial marriages were banned and all South Africans were classified into four groups - black, coloured (mixed race), white, and later, Asian (for Pakistanis and Indians). Previously, in 1960 Māori All Blacks were banned from touring to South Africa and New Zealanders were signing petitions opposing the exclusion and the tour. Ten years later, Williams and the three Māori players - Sid Going, Buff Milner and Blair Furlong - would be admitted under a special pass, giving them what was referred to as 'honorary white status.'… Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details
Not much is known of the suburban zoo that was once situated in Christchurch's North Beach. But those who visited recall eyeing up a mysterious crocodile in a small glass enclosure. In this episode of Eyewitness, Sonia Yee uncovers some myths, and finds out why it has left many with a mix of wonder and bewilderment. Roaring sounds of Suzy the lion would wake up local residents in an otherwise quiet suburb in Christchurch. The mini zoo known as North Beach Zoo was situated at 153 Beach Road. A former aquarium it was re-imagined by Bill Grey who bought it in the late 50s.
At a time when women were embracing their femininity after the war years, Barbara Herrick wanted to change the way women felt about themselves through fashion. She speaks to Sonia Yee about Dior's New Look that took the world by storm, carving a path in Auckland's high-end fashion scene with her label, Babs Radon. And shares what it was like to meet Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at The New Zealand Wool Awards. "We risked everything for fashion," says Auckland designer Barbara Herrick of the celebration of femininity seen on the streets of central Auckland after the war years.
Little is known about The Wizard of New Zealand who took centre stage in Christchurch's Cathedral Square from the 70s until the Christchurch earthquakes in 2011, which saw the city in a state of disrepair. A man who challenged political, social and cultural ideology, The Wizard posed provocative questions in this public space, much to the delight, and sometimes dismay, of passersby. But the background to why The Wizard was there in the first place has been something of a mystery... until now. Sonia Yee finds out more in this episode of Eyewitness. Anyone who visited Christchurch's Cathedral Square before the 2011 earthquakes will know of The Wizard of New Zealand - an iconic figure and mainstay of the city centre. Often dressed in a velvet kaftan and pointy black hat, the Wizard carried a wooden staff and performed on a step ladder that acted as his portable podium. Listen below to find out more about The Wizard and the mark he made on the history of Christchurch: