A city of rage

The pitch invasion of Rugby Park on July 25, 1981, was the flashpoint of a series of dramatic events in Hamilton, writes Mike Mather.

There’s more to the story of the Springboks’ inflammatory visit to Hamilton than the thwarted match against Waikato.

The pitch invasion at Rugby Park on July 25, 1981, was just the flashpoint of a series of dramatic tour-related incidents throughout the city.

The evening before the match a noisy two-hour protest was staged outside the Glenview Hotel (now Te Wa¯ nanga o Aotearoa), where the touring team were staying.

That demonstration, preceded by a candlelight vigil in Garden Place, prompted a handful of arrests for wilful trespass, disorderly behaviour and assault on a police officer. The window of a police van was smashed.

Among the protest group was Waikato kauma¯ tua Timi Maipi, who at the time was a community worker in Huntly. Maipi urged people to protest in the non-violent way of Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi and the participants in the 1975 land march. ‘‘The police have their duty to keep law and order and we have our duty to stop the tour, to ensure that tomorrow’s tour will never go ahead,’’ he said.

Half of the touring squad – the half that were to play Waikato the next day – were holed up in the hotel at the time, while the other half were out on the town.

On the day of the game, the Springboks arrived at Rugby Park in a bus that had been splattered with paint by anti-tour protesters.

Behind the main stand, sheep truck and trailer units provided a second ring of defence next to the barbed-wire-topped perimeter fence guarded by police.

Meanwhile, two anti-tour groups marching from Lake Rotoroa and the University of Waikato converged on Garden Place, before the combined, 2000-strong force made tracks for the rugby ground.

They made their way to Tristram St where, after a standoff in which jeers and insults were traded with supporters inside the grounds, they crossed the road and began tearing at the perimeter fence. Waikato Times reporters covering the scene said it came apart ‘‘like confetti’’.

A group of about 500 charged through and, after fighting their way past Waikato rugby supporters, ran onto the pitch where they linked arms to form a tightly packed mass.

Some of the pitch invaders were dragged away by police officers, others were set upon by angry fans, and others still heeded an ominous police warning that ‘‘those who wish to leave should do so now’’.

An estimated 200 to 250 protesters remained in the group on the field – facing off against three lines of helmeted and riot shield-equipped officers.

As the packed crowd of rugby fans roared their disapproval, Father Terry Dibble from the antitour group Citizens’ Association for Racial Equality (Care), Police Commissioner Bob Walton and Halt All Racist Tours (Hart) organiser John Minto – who was part of the group on the pitch – discussed what might happen next.

What the vast majority of those at the ground did not know was that, earlier that afternoon, former World War II Spitfire pilot Pat McQuarrie had stolen a Cessna 172 aircraft from a Taupo¯ airfield.

As Walton told journalists at a post-match police briefing, police had been warned about ‘‘a plot for airborne disruption and a possible intention of crashing into the grandstand’’.

Fears of a plane attack were ‘‘an over-riding factor’’ in the decision to call off the game. Following a two-hour flight, McQuarrie landed the plane on a Morrinsville horse track, where he was arrested by Taupo¯ constable David Jensen, who had travelled north in pursuit of the stolen aircraft.

Once the announcement that the game had been cancelled was made, the police had to switch roles from trying to get the protesters off the field to attempting to protect them from being set upon by angry rugby fans.

Their efforts were not totally successful. Twenty-three people were treated at Waikato Hospital for various injuries, although only three – including one policeman – were kept in overnight.

Police made 73 arrests, but the ratio of anti- to pro-tour combatants is not known.

Among those assaulted was Waipa¯ MP Marilyn Waring, who walked to the ground alongside the marching protesters and had entered the venue with a ticket she had purchased earlier.

Rugby fans had determined she was one of the protesters, she said.

‘‘I was thrown down banks, beaten about the body and subjected to the most extraordinary abuse.’’

Violence spread throughout the city following the game cancellation. Minto was among those assaulted as he was leaving the ground and, later, was set on again when pro-tour supporters burst into a house being used as a temporary headquarters of an anti-tour group.

Late on Saturday night police set up a cordon around the University of Waikato halls of residence on Knighton Rd, after a large group smashed windows while chanting: ‘‘We want rugby.’’

Opposition leader Bill Rowling said the events in Hamilton showed the country was on ‘‘the very threshold of carnage’’.

‘‘Already a kind of lynch law psychology has started to emerge.’’

After six tense days in Hamilton, and accompanied by a busload of police officers, the Springbok team departed on Tuesday, bound for the next match in New Plymouth. But the recriminations and fallout lasted a lot longer.

The Hamilton City Council belatedly banned all protest rallies from being held at Garden Place.

Meanwhile, the Waikato Rugby Union was besieged with offers to fix the fences around Rugby Park. Chairman Frank O’Connor vowed the organisation would seek restitution from the protesters.

Police Association councillor Ian Paterson declared morale had hit ‘‘rock bottom’’ following the failure to stop the protesters from running onto the field.

The hardcore demonstrators should have been identified during the march and arrested at that point, he said.

On the Monday following the game, a 1500-strong pro-tour march was held in Tokoroa, led by schoolteacher Des Seymour. The event passed without incident.

The Waikato Times also received a call from Clayton Miller, an ex-serviceman so angered at not being able to watch the match he was compelled to complain from his home in South Africa.

‘‘I saw about 250 people prevent thousands from watching a game of rugby,’’ he told a reporter.

‘‘Why didn’t they shoot a few? That’s what we would have done.’’