This has all been mildly upsetting, but pubs have closed in Dunedin before and the Scarfie culture is still as vibrant as ever. Instead of crying over spilled milk, I decided to look into a brief history of student culture in Dunedin to see how the roosters back in the day used to get loose. What follows is a lighthearted account of the “social” history of the university, just to remind you that we’re going to be okay.
Early Days
The University of Otago was founded in 1869 on the back of money from the Central Otago gold rush. Despite initially battling to maintain numbers, by 1914 it boasted 614 students pursuing a wide range of courses and engaging in the larrikin-like behaviour that would become the university’s trademark.Surprisingly, it was the Med students who, until the 1990s, set the “standard” for partying and general loutish behaviour. In the late 1800s, Med students bore a reputation for being womanisers or alcoholics (and frequently both), whereas Arts students were widely viewed as non-drinking “wowsers.” According to one Otago student from way back in the day, the typical Meddie would “[play] tennis and fives, and for relaxation [take] a class or two.” It is hard – if not downright impossible – to imagine a modern-day Med student with the same attitude.
The whiff of arrogance that accompanies the general Richardson area, however, is something of a perennial stench: an anonymous student observed in 1893 that the typical Law student “is the cream that disdains but a nodding acquaintance with the milk.” Clearly, not much has changed.
These early days were relatively tame. The boys wore three-piece suits to university and were too shy to talk to the few, long-black-skirt-wearing girls. There was no “Blackboard,” so lecture attendance was crucial, but there was no such thing as internal assessment either and so there was plenty of time to play up during the year.
Come exam time, however, students would frantically pack out the library in a manner familiar to all those who have experienced the 7:00am “nerd rush” into Central. One student was quoted as saying: “I am so saturated with my subject that if you squeezed me, Latin would drip out.” The only things that would drip out a modern marketing student would be goon and pure THC.
Capping Show
Capping weekend was the highlight of the year for students and Dunedin residents alike for much of the 20th century. The entire city would come to a standstill and watch as students paraded up and down George Street on floats – many of which were designed to mock particular political parties. It was the one time of the year where students could be as outrageous as they liked, and the parties are said to have rivalled today’s O-Week festivities, much to the dismay of some fun-loving local reporters. Apparently the Otago Daily Times’ penchant for writing bitter articles about the scourge that is the Otago University student has deep roots.Unfortunately, the Capping weekend died off in the 1970s, but its legacy continues in the form of the Capping Show – the second oldest of its kind in the country at 119 years of age.
Wars, Jazz and talk about Sex
In the years between the World Wars the University’s roll increased significantly, jumping from 614 students in 1914 to nearly 1,500 in 1939. This growth in numbers, coupled with the introduction of jazz and gin and the (relative) sanctioning of romance, made for more lively weekends in Dunedin. Think Sanatra, Martinis and scooping backless dresses. “Duckie, v’ya got enny mor gin?” would be the line of choice for any girl trying to weasel a drink from some poor drooling boy.The 1930s parties were based around weekly “bob hops” that were held in Allen Hall (located next to Unicol) and centred on jazz music, illegal booze and prowling. If the men were lucky they would woo a bird back to their car with the promise of more gin. Once at the car the man would continue to “spit game” with the hope getting a goodnight kiss. Kissing is as far as things would go, though – sex (of the insertion or digit kind) was off-limits, according to most reports.
Sex was something boys talked about, but rarely did P go in V unless a couple were married. Knox boys were notorious for oiling their bed springs in macho shows of self-confidence, but in reality were all about the talking and less about the doing. It was not until the advent of the contraceptive pill in the 1960s that students’ love lives really began to take flight.
The 1930s saw inhibitions start to break down in both students and society in general. The 1930 graduation in the town hall turned into a “riot” as drunken students poured flour down the organ pipes, dangled crayfish above Professors’ heads and let off fire-crackers. Today, this sort of drunken revelry is seen as typical of the average university student.
People get loose
Post-World War II things continued to “loosen up” – people began to wear blazers to university, grow long hair and even use scarves … very rebellious behaviour. Initiations became popular in halls and sports teams as “freshers” were subjected to the public humiliations familiar to virtually every Otago student (not for long, eh Ms Hayne?). The roll of the University continued to increase: 3,462 students in 1964 became 6,377 by 1972.As the general roll increased, the proportion of students living in flats rose from 17 per cent in 1956 to 39 per cent in 1972. During this period the ghetto-like conditions we are familiar with became firmly entrenched in North Dunedin. Students turned family homes into the pits of squalour in which many of us still live. Dunedin was truly becoming a student city, and with the advent of rock ‘n’ roll and the introduction of the pill the 60s and 70s were always going to be mayhem.
The swinging 60s and the 70s, man
Students really found their voice and created an identity for themselves in the 70s. They began to rebel by participating in protests and being generally defiant. Luckily for the University’s men, some women viewed sex as an act of defiance against the outdated morality of an older generation – awesome.The 70s was also the decade when most of our parents were at university, so keep that in mind as you read these few paragraphs. With the introduction of the pill, people could happily engage in coitus without the worry of making a “fuck trophy.” Even Student Health encouraged sexual freedom by happily handing out the pill to female students.
The Beatles came to Dunedin in 1964 and were interviewed by Critic. Unfortunately, the two individuals who interviewed them had the combined imagination of a brick and the interview makes for incredibly dry reading.
The sex and booze culture gained momentum in the 60s and 70s with drinking competitions gaining popularity and a Miss University competition beginning in 1965. Sadly, feminists brought a premature end to the Miss University competition in 1971 – they saw the competition as sexist and entered Mabel, a particularly attractive goat, in the 1971 competition in protest. Mabel won a fifth of the votes but failed to claim the coveted title.
There were big dramas in 1967 when a boy tried to live with three girls. Mixed flatting was a practice banned by the University, and anyone caught living in a mixed flat could be kicked out. The bloke in question was asked to leave either the flat or the University, prompting around 1,000 students to march on campus and stage a co-ed slumber party in Union Hall (loose protest, I know). The University was forced to accept mixed flatting, welcoming in a decade of free-loving carnage.
Students from the 70s that I talked to all remember that marijuana was endemic, acid was rife and sex free-spirited. One issue of Critic from the period is quoted as saying that “everyone gets ripped to their tits on most every kind of mindfood there is around at the time and grooves to whatever band has agreed to play.”
In one of my favourite stories from the 70s, some of the Med “lads” created a Boob Appreciation Club. The club would come together to discuss cup sizes, nipple texture and other boob-related matters. The meetings would generally deteriorate quickly as there were no females present to calm the larrikins (I wonder why?). One particular meeting descended to its normal level of chaos with food, vomit and furniture being thrown across the packed hall, and culminated with the leader of the Boob Appreciation Club turning off the lights, inserting the base of some birthday candles under his foreskin and mesmerising the crowd with a dangerous fire dance/ windmill. As Marc Ellis told me, “it’s the high-risk performances that are the real crowd pleasers.”
O-Week became a big deal in the 70s, with freshers being actively encouraged to lose their gherkins. The head of OUSA in 1977 wrote a guide to O-Week for freshers: “have fun this week. Get pissed out of your brain as often as your tired body can stand.” It’s hard to imagine Francisco Hernandez (this year’s OUSA president, for the majority of you who won’t know) having the same sort of encouraging words for 2013’s freshers.
The 80s, 90s and today
The 80s saw the trends of the 70s continue: pot was smoked and partying did not slow down. These were the days when you could afford to get drunk at a pub instead of having to pre-load. Mark Baxter, with an illustrious student career that spanned from 1988-1998, remembers O-Week being a massive event with huge parties that only students could attend. Mark grew up on Castle Street (when it was still a normal residential street) and saw the transformation of family abodes into a student ghetto.The first supposed “riot” on Castle Street happened in 1990 during Easter Tourney (the University Games sports tournament). People had been drinking at a flat on Castle Street before moving down to Gardies, where things got a wee bit out of hand. The drunken mob had flipped a car and collapsed a garage roof by the time the police were called to disperse them. One policeman got a dart to the neck for his efforts.
The media had an absolute field day: students were torn apart for displaying the sort of appalling behaviour that would be repeated from 2006-2009 during the infamous Undie 500 event. The Undie 500 would see students from Canterbury University purchase a car for less than $500 and then pub-crawl their way to Dunedin. Initially, the event was held to raise money for charity, but in 2006 things got out of hand and Castle Street was, yet again, the epicenter of a drunken riot that was plastered across every media outlet in the country. Thousands of Otago and Canterbury students were seen charging around the street performing Hakas and being pushed back along the street by a riot squad.
The 90s were the era of the Scarfie. The Scarfie would religiously make the trip out to Carisbrook to watch legends like Marc Ellis in action as Otago rugby dominated the national competition. Ellis had his fair share of laughs down here, or as he put it, “high spirited nonsense.” The University in the 90s was still a very provincial place, with most students coming from places such Hawkes Bay and Taranaki – the majority of Aucklanders and Wellingtonians would stay with Mummy and Daddy during their uni years.
It was not until the early 2000s that large numbers began to move down here. They bought with them their puffer jackets and ecstasy. Instead of beers and stubbies there were “pingas” and Bath Street (a grimy dubstep bar). Bath Street closed in 2010, largely because people were not buying alcoholic drinks but would instead order water to quench the thirst induced by hours of shoulder-dropping.
What Now?
The University has, for a number of years, been trying to clean up its image. The Undie 500 riots and the carnage at last year’s Hyde Street keg party were two events on which the media had an absolute field day. Whilst it is often assumed that student behaviour has deteriorated consistently over time, researching this article has shown the Otago students have been living it up for years. It is certainly true, however, that partying has become a much larger-scale phenomenon and that today’s students have less respect for personal property.Marc Ellis was scathing of the “agenda being pushed by the University’s grey-haired Board of Directors to encourage high-paying foreign students to come to the university.” Ellis said it’s a real “cock up,” and that “the University should – to an extent – embrace the student culture down here, not try and sanitise the place.”
But enough whining. No other university in New Zealand can offer the same student lifestyle and student culture as Dunedin. Nowhere else are there 10,000 students living within three square kilometres, doing red cards, lock-ins and occasionally each other. Don’t get your knickers in a twist if pubs are closing or the University keeps pumping the place full of cash cows. Embrace your time down here. For most of you these will be the best years of your life, and like I said: things change.
Credit must be given to Sam Elworthy and his book Ritual Song of Defiance. Many of the quotes and anecdotes have been taken from this book, which is well worth a read. Thanks also to Rosie and Hannah for your editing.