A DREAM COMES TRUE

Press, Volume CXIV, Issue 33442, 25 January 1974, Page 1

A DREAM COMES TRUE

35,000 see triumph

R. T. BRITTEN DEN)

A minor miracle, a dream come true; the opening ceremony for the 1974 Commonwealth Games was a triumph for its organisers, and all who took part in it.

For three hours, a capacity crowd of 35,000 was sufficiently enchanted to ignore the keen edge of the southerly wind. It was absorbed in a display of contrasts in mood and movement, in sound and sight and colour.

It was often thrilling, sometimes moving, and it produced a remarkable entente between the enthusiastic spectators, the performers and athletes.

It brought pride and pleasure and it played expertly upon the emotions, especially with the performance of the New Zealand Armj' Band, and the display by 2500 very young schoolchildren. There was magnificent music from brass and pipes and voices. A strain? Whatever else the Games may bring, this was an occasion to remember; and itj must have been something of 1 a strain on the principal en-[ trepreneur, Mr R. S. Scott, when he walked from the stand at the start, to be acclaimed by the eager crowd. Light, showers and gloomy grey cloud made a forbidding introduction but there was soon blue in the sky to contribute to the kaleidoscope of colour. The only misgivings about the preliminary stages came from the thought that the team of military lawnmowers might lead to communal cuttings, on similar lines, in the suburbs. Precision The military and musical sides of the performance went off splendidly. The slow precision of the standards being lowered in the salute to the GovernorGeneral (Sir Denis Blundell), the thunder of the artillery salutes, the marching, the uniforms; there really is something about a soldier.

It was a chilly wait for the 80-strong Maori challenging party which awaited the arrival of the Duke of Edinburgh, but His Royal Highness, cheerfully waving while standing in the back of a utility vehicle, was given a very warm welcome. The display began with 400 Maoris making a distinctively slow, graceful approach to the centre for their action songs and dances. They were all dignity and charm.

Thrilling band The New Zealand Army Band, in new, brilliant red uniforms, gave a quite incredible display of countermarching. It was thrilling, not only for the hundreds of children seated inside the fences. Their versatility, toy-soldier-like precision,' and music were magnificent. They pounded out the theme from “The Power Game”; they went on to “Superstar”, Beatles music. They produced what looked very like a goosestep: for.“ Can Can” they doubled over and ran—and never was there one of; Peter Sellers’ bum notes. They had the manoeuvres of a top marching team, the military accomplishments of guardsmen. And they wrung an enormous, emotional, almost tangible response from the vast crowd when they plaved the “Games song.” They were joined by the equally accomplished Nationalßand of New Zealand for further fine displays. There was thrilling singing from the combined choirs of the Royal Christchurch Musical Societv and the Christchurch Harmonic Society, conducted bv Professor John Ritchie. The women wore turquoise or white, the men white shirts and ties; there were 470 of them, with the Rand of the Royal New Zealand Air Force. Professor Ritchie, the musical director for the Games, wrote thei music for “Fairest Earth,” to words bv A. R. D. Fairbum; there was Ouilter’s “Non Nobis Domine”: a Maori love!

song, “Manu Rere”; and Burt Bacharach’s “What the World Needs Now.” In the choir for “Join Together” was the composer, Steve Allen.

Children splendid The children’s display 'caught at the throat. Partly because they were children, I partly because of the splendid I effect they produced. They I had sat all the while, with little envelopes containing plastic capes and caps in red |or white or blue. And when | five little girls in white had taken station in the middle lof the ground, as markers, there was a sort of technicolour eruption all round the ground, as the youngsters put on their brilliant colours and 'ran to the middle, there to [form the familiar Games; 'symbol.

It was beautifully done, because it looked so , spontaneous. It was a memorable moment as all 2500 closed in to make their design, the [wind, and the crowd of them, itnaking it look like some splendid sea anenome open|ing and closing. There was a special arrangement, by Professor Ritchie, of “Boys and Girls Come Out to Play” as background for this moving moment, with the combined bands conducted by Mr William Hawkey. And when the crowd, by invitation, joined in the second verse of the national anthem, there were the choirs, providing a thrilling descant.

For the entry of the teams, the music was composed by Oswald Cheesman, with each country greeted, in turn, by something associated with it.

It took a long time for the teams to assemble, but it was very well worth watchiing. Scotland, the 1970 host

country, led the way, the men in blue blazers, the women in lilac. The Australians, a huge party, wore an unusual washed green. In nearly all the teams, the girls did the smiling and waving. The arena filled steadily with colour — the bright red of the Canadians, the acquamarine of England, the gold of Jamaica. It was a mild rebuke to the weather that the members of the Jersey team all carried little red fold-up umbrellas. The women of Malawi wore gorgeous green long gowns. Papua New Guinea men, with green blazers and white trousers — someone suggested they looked like Australian cricketers — were particularly smart and marched especially well. St Vincent had its stan-dard-bearer, one man. and “The Saints” for musical accompaniment; it was "Tea for Two” for Sri Lanka.

The axe A Swaziland athlete, grinning broadly, carried the now-famous Ron Scott ceremonial axe. The Tanzanian team .marched well; the women were handsome in olive and brown full-length garments. The Ugandan women were in brilliant peacock blue, and the Welsh, all scarlet, had “Men of Harlech” and a rousing welcome. So it went on until the New Zealanders appeared, to deaf-; ening applause. It was a pity they marched so poorly: but it was a minor flaw in a great | spectacle. . The final baton runner ap-| peared, the Queen’s message! was read by the Duke of; Edinburgh, the oath of ama-l teurism was taken after 3000 pigeons had been re-' leased. And it was ail but 1 over. Hollywood could not have done very much better. Andi the only feeling of sympathy! must have been for those pigeons. They went off into ai stiff head wind, between, what pigeons, and others,! find disturbing sounds—pipe! band music, and the thunder! 'of guns.