Little Criminals: The Story of a New Zealand Boys' Home by David Cohen Page B
Authors: David Cohen
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climax, an unapologetically raucous rendition of ‘Born to be Wild’ delivered without apparent irony and eagerly lappedup by a pipsqueak crowd now shucking and jiving to the era’s on-the -road anthem.
The Fourmyula were of course bound for greater things; some decades later, for one, ‘Nature’ would be selected as the ‘best’ New Zealand pop tune of all time, and scarcely a month now passes without some kind of tribute to the group’s pioneering work. Yet it’s probably safe to say no performance ever given by the group aroused quite such a heroic response as its Christmas 1968 appearance at 441 Riverside Drive. Nobody appreciated it more than Jonathan Foote, a runny-nosed 10-year-old at the time, who many decades later has a framed photograph of the band in pride of place on the wall of his study in Palmerston North. ‘We were in heaven,’ he said.
Or something close to it. Studying other photographs from the period, as much as the old newspaper clippings, one is struck by the other-worldliness of the era. How can one not be impressed? Here we see what at the time passed for very troubled boys from half the country impeccably decked out in grey shirts and shorts, crisply ironed (possibly even starched), a uniform worthy of an English comprehensive school. Every kid appears well groomed, hair cut short back and sides. No exceptions. Not a piercing or a tattoo in sight.
Away from the premises, at the Christmas camp held each year in the bush out near Paraparaumu, a similar picture emerges. The security is non-existent; indeed, as Aussie Malcolm noted approvingly, the conditions are probably in breach of every imaginable government requirement, but again, the boys are visibly relaxed, friendly, almost affectionate to each other … and happy.
‘What strikes me is that the change, in the course of one generation, has been immense,’ Malcolm reflected in a late-night email drawing comparisons between the delinquents of that earlier time and the early 2010s. ‘So immense that it deserves terms like“faultline” or “sea change” or “cataclysmic”. Such terms, and the extent of change that lies behind them implies that, whatever the change was, it was not just gradual.
‘It was not creeping. Some thing, or some small combination of things, out of all that has happened socially in the last 50 years, has turned young New Zealand males from friendly, compliant, vulnerable little chaps who sometimes made mistakes, but loved and responded to love, into angry, violent, unattractive, self-destructive deviants that are extraordinarily hard to rescue.’
Whatever the ultimate answer to that question, Epuni Boys’ Home was positioning itself to reflect the changing times.
JERUSALEM
T he early 1960s were productive years for Epuni Boys’ Home; it was like a rocket taking off, nothing but official praise, interesting new staff members, good times. But with success came new challenges. Among the few persistent problems were schooling and teachers. Not surprisingly for an operation administered by the Department of Education, Epuni’s mission had long been freighted with euphoric talk about creating new academic opportunities for the disadvantaged. But that was easier said than done.
At the start Epuni made do with enrolling half the wards at any one time with one of the local schools, either the nearby primary school on Waiwhetu Road, one or other of three intermediates, or Naenae and Taita colleges. Having a variety of institutions to draw on was the key. It meant there wouldn’t be a crew of Epuni wards in just the one place, an arrangement that Maurie saw had the potential to spook the regular pupils and lend itself to all kinds of mischief-making on the part of the wards. So that was the original plan, and for a time it worked.
At Taita College the principal used to draw the boys aside on their first day and tell them in so many words: ‘You and I are the only two at this school who know what
The Fourmyula were of course bound for greater things; some decades later, for one, ‘Nature’ would be selected as the ‘best’ New Zealand pop tune of all time, and scarcely a month now passes without some kind of tribute to the group’s pioneering work. Yet it’s probably safe to say no performance ever given by the group aroused quite such a heroic response as its Christmas 1968 appearance at 441 Riverside Drive. Nobody appreciated it more than Jonathan Foote, a runny-nosed 10-year-old at the time, who many decades later has a framed photograph of the band in pride of place on the wall of his study in Palmerston North. ‘We were in heaven,’ he said.
Or something close to it. Studying other photographs from the period, as much as the old newspaper clippings, one is struck by the other-worldliness of the era. How can one not be impressed? Here we see what at the time passed for very troubled boys from half the country impeccably decked out in grey shirts and shorts, crisply ironed (possibly even starched), a uniform worthy of an English comprehensive school. Every kid appears well groomed, hair cut short back and sides. No exceptions. Not a piercing or a tattoo in sight.
Away from the premises, at the Christmas camp held each year in the bush out near Paraparaumu, a similar picture emerges. The security is non-existent; indeed, as Aussie Malcolm noted approvingly, the conditions are probably in breach of every imaginable government requirement, but again, the boys are visibly relaxed, friendly, almost affectionate to each other … and happy.
‘What strikes me is that the change, in the course of one generation, has been immense,’ Malcolm reflected in a late-night email drawing comparisons between the delinquents of that earlier time and the early 2010s. ‘So immense that it deserves terms like“faultline” or “sea change” or “cataclysmic”. Such terms, and the extent of change that lies behind them implies that, whatever the change was, it was not just gradual.
‘It was not creeping. Some thing, or some small combination of things, out of all that has happened socially in the last 50 years, has turned young New Zealand males from friendly, compliant, vulnerable little chaps who sometimes made mistakes, but loved and responded to love, into angry, violent, unattractive, self-destructive deviants that are extraordinarily hard to rescue.’
Whatever the ultimate answer to that question, Epuni Boys’ Home was positioning itself to reflect the changing times.
JERUSALEM
T he early 1960s were productive years for Epuni Boys’ Home; it was like a rocket taking off, nothing but official praise, interesting new staff members, good times. But with success came new challenges. Among the few persistent problems were schooling and teachers. Not surprisingly for an operation administered by the Department of Education, Epuni’s mission had long been freighted with euphoric talk about creating new academic opportunities for the disadvantaged. But that was easier said than done.
At the start Epuni made do with enrolling half the wards at any one time with one of the local schools, either the nearby primary school on Waiwhetu Road, one or other of three intermediates, or Naenae and Taita colleges. Having a variety of institutions to draw on was the key. It meant there wouldn’t be a crew of Epuni wards in just the one place, an arrangement that Maurie saw had the potential to spook the regular pupils and lend itself to all kinds of mischief-making on the part of the wards. So that was the original plan, and for a time it worked.
At Taita College the principal used to draw the boys aside on their first day and tell them in so many words: ‘You and I are the only two at this school who know what
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