The Boks and the telegram

When Pa¯keha spectators cheered Ma¯ori players, a new book reports, it left the 1921 Springboks ‘frankly disgusted’.

Mike Munro is an avid rugby fan, so therein was born the idea for 1921 Rugby, Race & Empire, a self-published history of the first Springboks tour of New Zealand. ‘‘Last summer I recall reading somewhere that this year, 2021, would mark 100 years since the All Blacks-Springbok rivalry began,’’ the Wellington PR specialist and spin doctor says.

‘‘I wondered whether anyone had written a book about when it all began with the 1921 Springboks tour of New Zealand. That’s when I found out the only book solely on that tour was by a South African. So I made a somewhat impulsive decision to write one, and to make it more interesting by adding some historical context. It was a pretty traumatic time at the start of the 1920s, war and influenza had just killed nearly 30,000 New Zealanders.’’

Munro traverses politics, influenza and – in this excerpt – 1920s race relations.

‘Most unfortunate match ever played’

Until 7 September 1921, the day the New Zealand Ma¯ ori played the Springboks at Napier, the firstever visit by the South Africans had been a singular PR triumph. New Zealanders were captivated by the visitors, and had gone to uncommon lengths to greet them and watch them play. In every centre that hosted a match there was a civic welcome.

The South Africans, in turn, had been accommodating and gracious guests. They seldom declined an invitation to do anything, or go anywhere: town halls, workplaces, marae, Returned Soldiers’ Associations, schools, dances, operatic societies, rural road trips, farms – even a 10-year-old Auckland girl’s at-home birthday party.

Whenever the public demanded a performance of their Zulu war cry, the Springboks obliged. They even tried their hand at haka, to onlookers’ amusement. It seemed that during an age before international rugby was in thrall to spin doctors and image consultants, the 1921 Springboks required no guidance on how to charm their hosts. But on that September day in Napier, when the issue of race reared its head, the tour lost a good deal of its lustre.

By the day of the Ma¯ ori game, the Springboks had been in the city for six days, having played, and beaten, a combined Hawke’s Bay-Poverty Bay side on the Saturday. The team stayed at the Caledonian Hotel and had fulfilled a number of routine social obligations, including school and vineyard visits.

They’d been given a formal Ma¯ ori welcome at Hastings at an event directed by the esteemed mission leader, and later first Ma¯ ori bishop, Reverend Fred Bennett. The Wednesday afternoon game against the Ma¯ ori would be the 17th and third-to-last of the tour.

Before kick-off at McLean Park there were onfield performances by kapa haka groups. One was a men’s haka party, the other a group of women and girls who performed a poi dance. There is a National Library photograph of the Springboks lined up and facing the haka party. One of the players has his head down, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. The rest of them appear to be looking.

Unfortunately there are no photographs of when the poi dancers had their turn. While nobody appeared to notice at the time, it was claimed, many years later, some Springboks had turned their backs during the poi performance. Writing in the NZ Sport Monthly in July 1994, rugby historian Neville McMillan recalled Jack Blake, who played on the wing for the Ma¯ ori during the 1921 match, had told him about the back-turning incident.

Blake had said: ‘‘We were seething with anger as we waited for the kick-off and it was a most unpleasant match.’’

Blake had also remembered being counselled before the game by one of the older Ma¯ ori players, Sam Gemmell, who told him: ‘‘Jackie, we are playing for our race.’’

The Ma¯ ori were accused of roughing up the Springboks, who won 9-8, and of skulduggery at scrum time. There was a hotly disputed try awarded to the South Africans, which brought an angry reaction from the crowd. Much of the crowd’s hostility was directed at the referee, who many felt was out of his depth. The immediate focus after the game was the behaviour of spectators. Hawke’s Bay rugby officials expressed their ‘‘extreme regret’’ over the conduct of some of the 6000 in attendance. Even the manager of the Ma¯ ori team, Ned Parata, was critical of certain sections of the crowd. He said the Springboks had extended ‘‘a privilege and honour’’ to Ma¯ ori by agreeing to play the game. His team had wanted to play keen, hard rugby, but they were also ‘‘anxious not to depart from the niceties and beauties of the game’’.

The post-match heat spiked up when the contents of a message written by a South African journalist came to light. About seven o’clock that evening Charles Blackett, a pipe-smoking rugby correspondent travelling with the Springboks, took a cable to the Napier Post and Telegraph Office for transmission to the Advertiser, a newspaper in Durban, South Africa.

The telegraphist who handled the cable was startled by its contents. After sending it to Wellington, from where it would be cabled to South Africa, the telegraphist showed it to colleagues. Trying to avoid the supervisor’s gaze, a group stood in a huddle near the office fireplace discussing what Blackett had written. There were mutterings of disbelief. What happened next would later be the subject of a magisterial inquiry.

Sometime the following day a newspaper reporter, while enjoying a few frames at a Napier snooker hall, found himself in possession of a copy of the cable. Astonished by what he read, the reporter hurried back to his workplace, Napier’s Daily Telegraph newspaper. What he had acquired might not have been a word-perfect record of what Blackett had written, but it was probably near enough.

The message read: Most unfortunate match ever played. Only a result of great pressure being brought to bear on (Springboks manager) Bennett induced them to meet Ma¯ oris. Bad enough having to play team officially designated New Zealand natives, but spectacle of thousands of Europeans frantically cheering on band of coloured men to defeat members of own race was too much for Springboks, who were frankly disgusted.

That was not the worst. The crowd was most unsportsmanlike experienced on the tour, especially section who lost all control of their feelings. When not booing referee, they indulged in sarcastic remarks at his expense. On many occasions Africans were hurt. Crowd without waiting for possibility of immediate recovery shouted, ‘take him off, take him off.’ Their faithful coloured allies proved loyal to New Zealand, for in addition to serious injury to Kruger’s leg, van Heerden had to stay off field for fifteen minutes. Others were limping badly. Ma¯ oris flung their weight about regardless of niceties of the game.

A gift like this doesn’t fall into a newspaper’s lap every day. A story about Blackett’s cable was published on Friday 9 September and telegraphed to other newspapers throughout New Zealand by the Press Association. As the cable story spilled into the public domain, there was alarm on three fronts; along with the inevitable outcry over the racist and insulting tone of Blackett’s message, there was also high dudgeon over the leak of a communication from a ‘‘loyal’’ public service department and, most upsettingly for the good denizens of Napier, dismay at Blackett’s assertion that the home-town crowd had been the most unsportsmanlike of the tour.

The story appeared under four decks of headings, which read; The Napier crowd; Most unsportsmanlike ever experienced; Springboks frankly disgusted. Most unfortunate match ever played. Blackett’s message was left to speak for itself. The newspaper neither offered any comment on it nor sought reaction from any of the parties involved. But the contents of the cable certainly drew a reaction when tabled at a hastily convened meeting of the Hawke’s Bay Rugby Union that evening.

The alarmed officials agreed that a message be sent instantly to the Springboks’ manager, Harold

‘‘The Ma¯ori occupies in New Zealand a position in consonance with his Caucasian descent and his mental qualities, he fought well against us, and with us, and, taking him all round, he is a good citizen.’’

Reaction to the leaked message in The Press

Bennett, insisting that he disassociate himself and his team from the derogatory comments about the Ma¯ ori team. The local rugby officials also expressed their ‘‘extreme regret’’ that a section of the crowd had behaved poorly, although Bennett was assured that the crowd’s behaviour was ‘‘in no way intended as a demonstration against your splendid team’’.

The message ended with a rebuke for the cable’s author for failing to understand how highly the Ma¯ ori race was regarded by his fellow Pa¯ keha¯ citizens.

When the Telegraph published the union’s statement it carried another report which made reference to a conversation that a rugby official, Mr J M Brown, and the Ma¯ ori team manager, Ned Parata, had held with Bennett following the Ma¯ ori game. The conversation had touched on the possibility of a Ma¯ ori team visiting South Africa. According to the Telegraph’s report, the Springbok manager had apparently explained that ‘‘there was a great preponderance of dark races in South Africa and necessarily the whites had to be firm’’.

He had told Parata that when he returned to South Africa he would insist that no Ma¯ ori should be included in any New Zealand team visiting his country. His reasoning was that ‘‘neither Mr Parata nor any member of his race would ever get accommodation in South Africa’’.

Meanwhile, Ma¯ ori reaction to the Blackett cable was scathing. The Arawa iwi of Rotorua, having hosted the Springboks at the historical Ohinemutu marae three weeks earlier, cabled Bennett. Representatives Kiwi Amohau and Tai Mitchell told Bennett that ‘‘to accept their (Arawa) welcome and break bread with our people, and then later insult them as you have done’’ was not what Ma¯ ori understood to be the manner of honourable gentlemen. Amohau and Mitchell said that no Ma¯ ori wanted to force hospitality on other loyal citizens of Empire, reminding the South Africans one of the main pillars of that Empire was ‘‘fellowship and tolerance, whether in religion, colour, idea or anything else short of crime’’.

Condemnation also came from the prominent Ma¯ ori politician and physician Te Rangi Hiroa (Sir Peter Buck). His irritation was fuelled by a report in the New Zealand Herald on 13 September, six days after the Ma¯ ori game, which attempted to excuse the attitudes highlighted in the Blackett cable. In the Herald report, it was claimed that the Springboks came from a country where ‘‘the colour line is drawn very clearly’’. However, they hadn’t been in New Zealand long enough to understand the status of Ma¯ ori.

Te Rangi fumed over that particular comment.

In a long and considered note, he slammed the visitors’ ‘‘bad taste and ignorance’’ in applying to Ma¯ ori their ‘‘antipathy of the negroid races’’ in South Africa. Responding to the suggestion the Springboks hadn’t been in New Zealand long enough to understand the status of Ma¯ ori, Te Rangi said he could only conclude that ‘‘in developing brawn and muscle to ensure success on the football field’’ their mental faculties had deteriorated. He reminded the South Africans that they’d been the ‘‘honoured guests’’ of Ma¯ ori during the tour, mentioning the visit to Manukorihi Pa at Waitara after the Taranaki game.

The South Africans were soon in damage control. Bennett, the team manager, addressed the message from Te Arawa representatives, Amohau and Mitchell. In a statement, Bennett thanked them for their telegram, but said they ‘‘should not take any notice of unauthorised newspaper talk’’.

He added: ‘‘We are not responsible for the alleged [Blackett] cable, which does not in any way represent our views. I regret you should have telegraphed in such an insulting strain without making proper enquiry.’’ Expanding on his comments, Bennett said: ‘‘We have never expressed any views like this. The cable did not represent the team’s feelings. When the cable was brought to the notice of the team, they regretted that it had been sent, and were ‘very annoyed’ about it.’’

Bennett was very clear that Blackett’s cable had been sent without the knowledge of any of the players. The Springboks were ‘‘entirely blameless’’ and felt hurt as Ma¯ ori had extended their hospitality to them. Furthermore, the author of the cable had expressed regret for his actions, and acknowledged that it had been written in the heat of the moment. He was ‘‘sorry about it as soon as he’d placed it on the wires.’’ Media reaction was fierce. The New Zealand Times called the message the ‘‘most grievous and shocking blunder ever perpetrated in the history of New Zealand,’’ a gratuitous insult to Ma¯ ori, and ‘‘shocking in its ignorance’’.

The Auckland Star expressed regret that ‘‘this unpleasantness should have arisen’’. The New Zealand Herald said the cable’s author should be ashamed of his indiscretion and uninformed judgement. The Press in Christchurch said it was glad Bennett had disassociated his team from the comments. Any objection to playing the Ma¯ ori would have exposed the visitors’ ‘‘inexcusable ignorance’’ of the place Ma¯ ori held in New Zealand, and its relationship with the British population.

There were good reasons why European South Africans drew a hard and fast colour line against ‘‘Kaffirs and Zulus’’. But nobody in their right senses would accord the latter the same status as Ma¯ ori. Ma¯ ori were probably the only coloured people in the world who were never conquered by whites and who live with them on terms of equal citizenship, The Press said. ‘‘The Ma¯ ori occupies in New Zealand a position in consonance with his Caucasian descent and his mental qualities, he fought well against us, and with us, and, taking him all round, he is a good citizen.’’

While most attention was on the contents of the cable, the leakers were also coming in for attention. The Manawatu Times thundered that the public was ‘‘entitled to know what the Telegraph intends to do in regard to an alleged leakage from one of the offices of The Dominion.’’ The Times said it wasn’t concerned with the contents of the cable, but the ‘‘unfortunate manner’’ in which Blackett’s message was disclosed. The newspaper demanded a public enquiry.

Blackett issued a statement in which he slammed those who had ‘‘surreptitiously obtained and disseminated’’ his cable, and he expressed dismay at the ‘‘mutilated and abridged’’ form in which it had been published by newspapers. He claimed his cable had not been quoted in full, and that some wording complimenting the Ma¯ ori rugby players for their ‘‘hard, hustling tactics’’ had been ‘‘shorn from the context’’. Blackett was also frustrated that the Springboks manager had ‘‘thought fit so abjectly to apologise’’ on his behalf.

Within days an enquiry was ordered by the Postmaster-General, Gordon Coates, into a prima facie breach of the telegraph regulations regarding secrecy. Then, soon after the Springboks

and Blackett had left the country on 19 September, Coates announced that three members of the Napier telegraph office – Joseph Evans, Frederick Rodger and another named Reichenbach – had been suspended. A fourth, Francis Winstanley, was dismissed but then reinstated ahead of a magistrate’s enquiry.

The enquiry into the circumstances of the leak was held before a stipendiary magistrate at the Napier Courthouse. Winstanley and Rodger pleaded guilty to a charge of breaching the rules requiring them to respect the privacy of the communications they handled as telegraphists, but Evans and Reichenbach opted to fight the charges. It transpired that three copies of Blackett’s cable were made on the evening the journalist took it to the Post and Telegraph office for transmission. Later, one copy could not be accounted for – presumably that which ended up in the hands of the local newspaper reporter.

The four telegraph workers gave differing accounts of what had happened, but what was established was that Evans had been the ringleader. He was the senior officer and had suggested the cable be copied. The magistrate determined Evans should carry the can. On 11 February 1922, newspapers carried a report which read: ‘‘It is officially announced that Mr Hunt S.M. has found proved the charges against Evans, telegraphist, Napier, of communicating the contents of the Springbok football telegram and Evans has accordingly been dismissed from the service.’’

Rodger, Winstanley and Reichenbach were judged to have been parties to the copies of the cable being made. They were each fined £10 ($1000 in 2021 terms) but reinstated to their jobs. Interestingly, the inquiry into culpability for the leak ended up getting greater coverage by newspapers than the publication of the cable and fallout from it.

On the last day of the 1921 tour, the senior minister and future prime minister, Coates, spoke at a post-match dinner for players and officials following the third test in Wellington. In farewelling the South Africans, he stated that New Zealand was proud of the Ma¯ ori people and that ‘‘Ma¯ ori and Pa¯ keha are one in New Zealand.’’

He expressed the hope that the visitors ‘‘now understand that’’.