Show Notes
Not that long ago, the New Zealand economy was built on sheep, sheep and more sheep. We were asking for economic trouble and in the late 1960s, we got it. Produced by Justin Gregory. Not that long ago, New Zealand's economy was built on sheep. There was only one real export commodity and one real market. We were asking for economic trouble, and in the late 1960s - when the wool price plummeted by 40 percent overnight - we got it. "One dollar in six went down" If you'd asked them at the start of the year, most Kiwis would have reckoned that 1966 looked like being a cracker. And for the most part, it didn't go too badly. In March, Country Calendar debuted on the telly. In April, the Queen Mum popped in for a cup of tea and a pikelet. In May, sadness over the death of Māori King Te Korokī Mahuta was tempered by excitement at the coronation of his daughter Princess Piki. That winter, the All Blacks downtrou'd the British Lions 4-zip and Maria Dallas, the pride of Morrinsville, had a huge hit with her song 'Tumblin' Down'. New Zealand in the 1960s had one of the highest standards of living in the world with near-full employment and low inflation. Politically, we were the picture of stability; National Party leader Keith Holyoake was about halfway through his 12-year run as Prime Minister and eyeing-up another win in the general election later that year. 'Steady as she goes' was the motto. We were rich, a bit boring and everyone was as good as everyone else. Sure, we had compulsory military service, the death sentence for treason and it was only in 1961 you could order a glass of wine with your meal, but there was no need to bust a gut worrying about stuff. Or so most people thought. Cracks, though, were starting to appear. Anti-apartheid protests opposed South African sporting teams coming here and us going there. Prison riots had broken out across the country the previous year and the police were concerned enough about violent crime to establish the Armed Offenders Squad. Radio Hauraki took to the seas to break the state monopoly on broadcasting. Thousands marched to protest our troops being sent to Vietnam and when US President Lyndon Johnson visited that year, a huge crowd gathered to cheer but a loud group of roosters booed him, too. Vietnam became an election wedge between National and the opposition Labour Party, but not enough to change the government. National were returned in November with an eight-seat majority but shockingly, had lost the previously safe seat of Hobson to the Social Credit Party… Go to this episode on rnz.co.nz for more details
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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.
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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: