Shadbolt was a student activist of high-notoriety in Auckland's anti-Vietnam movement who was never actually a member of the Auckland PYM or any Progressive Youth Movement. His experience with protesting the Vietnam war resulted in many arrests and was most famously arrested for using the word "bullshit" at a protest rally.
Shadbolt was an interesting character at the time of these protests and was very much against the Labour party as he saw it as being as conservative as National were. He assisted in the establishment of a commune in Huia, West Auckland and earned himself the nickname of 'Tim Shagbolt' due to his "popularity" with protesting young women at the time. He went on to become Mayor of Waitemata and still remains the Mayor of Invercargill.
Shadbolt was an interesting character at the time of these protests and was very much against the Labour party as he saw it as being as conservative as National were. He assisted in the establishment of a commune in Huia, West Auckland and earned himself the nickname of 'Tim Shagbolt' due to his "popularity" with protesting young women at the time. He went on to become Mayor of Waitemata and still remains the Mayor of Invercargill.
Tim Shadbolt Recalls Early Vietnam Protests:
ANTI-VIETNAM DEMOS IN AUCKLAND
Tim Shadbolt - (Student Activist)
1968
The emphasis was on small but persistent action. Guerilla protest. Pickets, leaflets, posters, parades. We were hounded and persecuted by police and public alike. Three times during the year I was assaulted. One guy spat in my face, another time about six clean-shaven rugby types surrounded me and started taunting. Then one of them opened a bottle of beer,
“If you move one single muscle, I'll kill you, you bloody commie cunt”
He started poring beer over my head. I defied him totally and moved every single muscle in my body, man, you should have seen me run.
We used to have marches down Queen Street. Our biggest rallies drew as many as 35 people. On one occasion we had six. Rod was walking along at the rear with one of his anarchist mates when two smooth young men started pulling his hair.
“Ya longhaired, peacenik hippie” and they'd pulled his hair again.
Now brother Rod, though his hair was well past his shoulders, isn't the sort of guy you could describe as a peacenik hippie. He was a boxer in Sydney, he'd played six years of rugby and he fought in the mod-rockers wars of the sixties. Rod grabbed this guy by the tie and dragged him out into the middle of Queen Street. All the cars halted and a crowd formed as he dragged the guy round in circles at the same time telling everyone what a bastard he was. A few seconds later the police arrived, saw this ridiculous scene and thought they were a couple of drunks. I don't think the guy ever picked on a 'peacenik hippie' again.
We also picketed American warships and caused so much embarrassment that they finally had to moor them at the Devonport Naval Base. We didn't do any damage or cause any violence but the police moved in and made arrests. An Auckland housewife was arrested for singing anti-war songs on an American warship and charged with offensive behaviour.
We were small, we were social outcasts, but we kept going. Gradually things began to change. It was the efforts of the Vietcong as much as our own that Brought about this change in New Zealand. Nobody likes supporting a war their side is losing.
The first sit-in was a real shock for New Zealand. The police just couldn't work it out: we were really nice young students all wearing suits. Even a lecturer came with us – Walter Pollard, a French Lecturer who had been a tower of strength in the Auckland movement for many years. He's one of only a few lecturers in New Zealand who has been prepared to commit himself actively to civil disobedience. While we all sat in the US Consul's office, as nervous as hell, waiting for the police to arrive, Walter read from Bertrand Russell's book on war crimes. A few of us actually took over the consul's office and it was amazing what a nervous, weak-looking man the consul was. He was so scared that he couldn't even speak. He just sat there shaking, beads of sweat rolling down his face. He was just a trade consul and it was amazing to think that this terrified little man represented the greatest imperialist power in the world.
“Hello”, said Bill Bone, trying to help him relax. “Don't worry about us. We're occupying your consulate like you're occupying South Vietnam.”
This seemed to make him even more scared but then his bodyguard arrived, a big man with a patch over one eye, and the consul was a lot happier with him around. I had a funny feeling that the bodyguard was armed but there is always a funny atmosphere around a man who is carrying a gun.
There was no yelling, no emotions, no chants. Just peaceful protesters. The police were really funny. They didn't want to arrest us. They carried one girl out of the building and actually pushed her into the crowd. Then they carried Maureen out and told her to get lost. The Whatleys had just been married and the sit-in was almost their honeymoon. The police carried them out of the building and refused to arrest them or put them in a police car. So they had to catch the lift back up and re-occupy the consulate – just the two of them, and get arrested. No one struggled but we all went limp. A large crowd gathered and they were amazed to see thirty limp bodies being carried out of the AMP building in Queen Street.
For every one of us it was our first arrest and for New Zealand it was the first mass arrest. It received massive national publicity and created a lot of controversy.
Back in the police station, it was really interesting getting our photographs, our fingerprints taken – and getting our belts taken off just in case we hung ourselves. There wasn't time to lock us all up in cells so they locked us in the dining hall. We rolled up a pair of socks and were soon playing soccer, watched by the stern eyes of two closed circuit TV lenses.
The police wanted to keep us all night but after a lot of yelling by lawyers and JPs we were soon all out on bail.