Anyway back to 1958 and we called into Freemantle the port town for Perth, the capital of Western Australia, where we disembarked a lot of the passengers. They were mostly assisted immigrants. They were called ‘Ten Pounders’ as that was what the Australian government charged them for their passage. History showed that many of them were successful in this new world. Most of them adapted well to a life and culture that was very different for them and their young families. They were generally hard working, happy and took the opportunities that this booming country provided and became assets to their new country. In those days, to use the vernacular, they were ‘New Australians’ but their children grew up as ‘Aussies’. They in turn would refer to immigrants as ‘New Australians’.
Leaving Freemantle behind us we steamed down the coast to the edge of the Southern Ocean. Skirting the Great Australian Bight we made our way around the coast of South Australia and met the Tasman Sea. Then we made our way via Adelaide and Melbourne, to Sydney with its beautiful harbour. We passed under the famed harbour bridge and berthed in Circular Quay. They had commenced the demolition work that preceded the building of Sydney’s then controversial and now world famous Opera House, right on the very edge of the harbour. I was really taken with Sydney. It was busy and friendly, as so many places down under seemed to be. Even at that early age (I was just turning nineteen) I felt a really positive aura surrounding me; maybe subconsciously I was preparing myself for what lay ahead. Dinger and I planned on jumping ship here when the DM returned to Sydney.
I had no idea what an influential part this great city was to play in my later life; but that was all still twenty years ahead. I had the good fortune to travel there a great many times on business and pleasure. Then I was to live for two wonderful years in Sydney’s finest marine suburb, a unique place with the interesting name of Double Bay. It was such an upmarket expensive place that it earned the nickname ‘Double Pay’. Double Bay and the surrounding area compare very favourably with the finest marine suburbs anywhere in the world.
While in Sydney Dinger and I took the time to acquaint ourselves with the pubs that were used by the Kiwi and Aussie seaman. We established a few contacts to assist us with our plan to jump ship on the DM’s return to Sydney. Our plan was to ringbolt back to New Zealand on one of the ships that traded between Aussie and New Zealand. The term ringbolt is used by seamen who are assisting other seamen to travel unknown on their ship. Usually to their home port, or wherever that ship is going. It’s a step above stowing away that is generally reserved for seamen. There is no payment involved. It’s an established secret practice amongst seamen of most nationalities and you were bound to help if called on.
Fortunately for Dinger and me this practice was honoured to the letter by merchant seaman down under. I have come to believe it must have had a lot to do with their convict heritage and I do not joke. It is an undeniable fact that most Aussies and Kiwis have a real anti-establishment streak about them. They combine this with a strong ethic of loyalty to mates and a natural dislike of authority. Then they have their great aversion to what is called ‘dobbing’ or ‘grassing’ as it is called in the UK.
Along with the aforementioned qualities, I was fascinated by another one that was always observed in New Zealand in the fifties and afterwards. This particular ethic was and hopefully still is, known as the ‘Fair Go Clause’ and it applied to all who wished to be accepted there. It applied in fights, arguments, in the work place, on the footie field, or even in a queue. It was a call for fairness and restraint. ‘Give a man a fair go.’ It applied greatly with a new man on a job when he may have made a mistake. I often heard it on wet and cold Saturday or Sunday afternoons at fiercely fought footy matches. It was used and applied in all manner of situations. A famous New Zealand Prime minister, Robert Muldoon used it in a squabble we had with the Australians over a one-day cricket International.
The Aussies had pulled a fast one; a dirty trick which came to be known as ‘underarm 81’. And to some extent the row it caused is still festering more than thirty years later. Perhaps it will move into New Zealand folk law like the Tangiwai train disaster and never be forgotten by the Kiwis. It is remembered in every cricket club and in fact, in every sports club. The story passes on from father to son; it is a part of the on-going sporting rivalry between the two countries. Public anger was hot and everybody felt greatly affronted by it, whether you were into sport or not. Rob Muldoon was very vocal about it and the Australian Prime Minister admitted it was ‘contrary to the traditions of the game’. Muldoon called the incident ‘a most disgusting act of true cowardice’ and said it was appropriate that the Australian team’s uniforms were yellow and indicated that the Aussie Captain would not understand a fair go if he fell over one.
There were many examples of ‘fair go’ in my life in New Zealand. At one stage, there was a very popular television show that was called “Fair Go”. It identified and publicly whipped any company, official, or organisation that was transgressing that golden rule. Modern life has eroded so many of our core principles, but I hope that down in New Zealand that one still holds true.
And for those of you who don’t follow sporting trivia in the Antipodes I should now relate the details of the incident. The cause of this vitriolic exchange lay in the conduct of a certain Australian cricket captain. The miscreant was Greg Chappell, a member of the famous Chappell cricketing family. The incident occurred at the end of a one-day match between New Zealand and Australia at the Melbourne cricket ground in February 1981. The match was the third of a series of five, which constituted the final of the World Series Cup. New Zealand had won the first one and Australia the second. In the third one Australia had batted first and had reached a tidy score. The Kiwis had fought back to the extent that from the last ball of the last over, the Kiwi batsman had the unenviable task of having to hit a six to win. With all credit possible to him, the Kiwi batsman being asked to perform this herculean task was a recognized bowler, not in any way one of the top batsman, who may have had an outside chance of achieving the six required. In fact Brian McKecknie, the batsman, was better known as an All Black rugby full back. It was almost absurd to think that the six required was in any way possible. That is, to everybody but the cautious Greg Chappell. He instructed the last ball to be delivered underarm along the ground, making it impossible to play a decent stroke and removed even the most outside chance of the game finishing in a semblance of a sporting contest. In support of some of the Aussie team, it has to be said that they didn’t all agree with the action. The bowler, Trevor Chappell, his younger brother protested and didn’t want to bowl it but had to. Also, the famed Aussie wicket keeper, Rodney Marsh, took his gloves off and threw them on the ground in disgust. The eldest brother of the Chappell family, Ian, who was commentating, was heard to say, “don’t do it Greg”. That incident still rears its head when differences arise between Aussies and Kiwis and it will be a long while before it goes away. Its importance overrode all topics. It wasn’t a good experience to be an Aussie in New Zealand at that time; the barrage of verbal abuse was a bit unfair really, as not all Aussies were happy with the decision to ‘cheat’. There has always been intense sporting rivalry between the two countries; the contests always hard fought, but generally, with respect. Greg Chapell did not do that down under thing, he did not give a ‘fair go’.