KEY POINTS:
If Close Up is going to "accommodate" guests like Tame Iti for the programme, why don't the producers find a Maori activist whose exploits have made a difference, not one cursed with the reputation of rent-a-quote?
Te Ringa Mangu Mihaka, for instance?
I caught up with my old mate - Dun, as he's known to those who love or fear him - late last year when I wanted to sound him out about the so-called terrorist raids. I'd lost touch after leaving Parliament, when he used to march past the security guards, wearing his trademark short shorts, and into my office for morning tea. While my assistant put the jug on, Dun would produce a paper bag full of fresh muffins, then work on his latest case.
It's well known that Dun has a reputation for violence - racking up a fairly large number of convictions for assault. That's the paradox - he wouldn't hesitate to use his fists to settle scores but could be sweet and entertaining. Tim Shadbolt, who tells hilarious stories about laying concrete footpaths in central Auckland with Dun as his labourer, used to say that at least Dun was democratic - he punched anyone.
That includes, the legend goes, the late Dr Gerry Wall when he was Speaker of the House. Decades back, when Parliament Buildings had minimum security, Dun made his way up to Wall's office (he was Dun's local MP). Irritated and offended when Wall ignored him, Mihaka allegedly grabbed him round the throat and told Wall to look at him when he was speaking to him, and what's more if Wall called security Mihaka would tell the media Wall had tried to sexually molest him.
So much for the brouhaha over Trevor Mallard and Tau Henare rolling around on the carpet in a so-called fisticuff. I doubt Graham McCready, who dragged Mallard before the court for assault and is now challenging him for his parliamentary seat, would be game enough to bring a private prosecution against Dun Mihaka.
Dun used to terrify and annoy us every time he delivered a new manuscript. There were late-night phone calls, threats, unexpected visits to Martinborough accompanied by assorted acolytes, including the then-shy Tame Iti. Eventually, however, he declared me the only person he'd trust to edit his books - I was never sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
He's responsible for Maori being made an official language, and through his efforts, today any defendant in court has the right to be heard in Maori. Dun defended himself in all his court appearances, sometimes leaping out of the dock to give the judge a good shake (again, if he didn't look Mihaka in the eye). When Dun was at the peak of his physical powers he was immensely strong and nothing could stop him, least of all half a dozen police officers who were usually dragged across the courtroom hanging on to the big guy's legs.
He burned the flag and was convicted. He bared his bum at Princess Diana and Prince Charles (not The Queen, as stated in Wikipedia) and was convicted - then wrote a book about it, Whakapohane, and printed T-shirts which my kids delighted in wearing, my son selling his to a customer at our Russell restaurant for a tidy profit.
One image of Mihaka that will stay with me forever, despite the fact I was too slow to get a photo, was when he visited us in Russell in late 1985, shortly after my fourth baby was born. With three other kids, a restaurant to run, trying to breastfeed this baby, then descended upon by Mihaka, Shadbolt, and their assorted whanau, I started to go psycho. But Dun took tiny baby Imogen in his huge hands, put her over his big brown shoulder and gently jiggled her while she slept for hours nestled into his white singlet.
So what does he think of all this nouveau-activism? Well I still don't really know. I drove out to his place in Paraparaumu and left a note under the door, saying I wanted to interview him. A few weeks later he called and left a message. Christmas and New Year intervened before I received this text: "Hope U still want 2 talk 2 me about why the COPs hassld amaturs + didn't bother me as the only self confess'd professnl shit stirrer."
Yes I do, mate. I saw the picture of you - white-haired now - carrying Hone Tuwhare's coffin. I'm pleased you've kept your standards up and didn't don long trousers even for that occasion. I presume you've been at Waitangi but I bet you didn't lower yourself to hongi with politicians.
Close Up producers are too young to know who you are, but old hacks like me don't forget.
So call me.
