Obituary - Albie Pryor

By Don Cameron

If rugby is indeed the game made in Heaven Albie Pryor will, a week after leaving us so unexpectedly, have set himself up as sole selector, coach, treasurer, marketing man and yarn-spinner.

For the first half-dozen years after he emerged in major rugby as an 18-year-old not long out of Whakatane High School, Pryor was a fiery looose forward, of exceptional speed and skill and very often the centre of controversy.

In the Bay of Plenty self-preservation tradition of the time he soon knew what fists were for, and that the best tackle was made at great speed with whatever part of his sprung-steel body arrived first.

There were those who saw him as a certain All Black, others who scorned his hot-blooded antics. Jack Sullivan, an influential All Black selector, insisted Pryor be placed in the national trials. He was the star loose forward prospect in 1955, and apparently a certainty for the tests against the 1956 Springboks.

Suddenly there was a policy change. Pryor, and George Nola, an equally fearsome rover from Waikato, were regarded as too small to pit against the Springboks - and perhaps too wayward of manner. So big men such as Neven MacEwan, Stan Hill, Don McIntosh and the Emperor Jones were promoted - and Pryor never seemed a serious All Black candidate thereafter.

Some players might have sulked at this rebuff. Pryor took it on the chin and, if anything, embellished a playing method of high physical impact with his distinctive brand of rugby mischief and good humour.

He upset the British Lions of 1959 when locking the Auckland scrum, and the Lions made plans to even the score when they found Pryor at prop for New Zealand Maoris.

Pryor in those days wore what he irreverently called "Maori headgear" - very noticeable white tape around his head and keeping the tops of his ears under control.

As the Maoris readied for the match against the Lions, Howard Paiaka, a flanker from King Country, asked Pryor if he would mind if he copied the Pryor headgear.

Go ahead, said Pryor, and wore a smile and never a bruise as the Lions forwards pursued the fleet-footed Paiaka.

In Southland in 1959 Pryor gained lasting fame (or infamy depending on the viewpoint) by suffering such a serious injury that Southland's late and lusty attempt to stop Auckland winning the Ranfurly Shield was halted while Pryor was repaired.

Southlanders still talk about that Oscar-winning "Hollywood," but it was an amateur-night effort compared with the time Pryor was discovered (one cold and miserable day at Thames in 1964) landing a full-blooded right on a Thames Valley forward as repayment for some previous indignity.

The home-town referee saw the punch, gave a blast on his whistle and headed toward the forwards grouped about Pryor. Bob Graham, Pryor's captain, thought to himself that his Albert would soon be gone.

Just as the referee approached Pryor went rubbery at the knees, uttered a groan and slowly sank to the ground, apparently temporarily removed from the planet. The referee stopped, gave three toots on the whistle to summon a Zambuk, and tenderly helped Pryor back to full fitness. The game, and Pryor, continued to the end.

Pryor collecting an envelop from the Rugby Union office each time Auckland toured, the same well-wisher wanting Pryor to have some spending money, apart from the euchre winnings regularly substracted from the touring newspaper reporter...

Pryor and his great friend Maunga Emery touring together, with one of everything.

First up got the underpants....

The Pryor tales will go on and on, especially taking in his staunch work for Maori sport through his organisation of the Maori Development Council's annual awards dinner. Pryor was the mixture of the gruff and kindly parent to so many of these sportspeople, and there will be many thus who were steered away from danger and to success by Pryor's firm, and humourous, attitude.

There will be many young and old, Maori and Pakeha, who have lived and laughed with Pryor, and been the richer for the experience.

Albert Pryor, no prouder New Zealander, has taken his mana and his mischief and his mirth, doubtless to decorate his rugby elsewhere. We are left with tall Pryor tales and great memories that will last forever - and also with the feeling that if Up There they cannot find 15 All Blacks for a team Albert Pryor would fit in nicely.