Disco disaster
Opening night of Palmerston North’s first swinging-60s disco ended in disaster.
It was meant to be so cool – Palmerston North’s first real discotheque for young people, just like the ones in Sydney, London and Hollywood. But it was destined to have a disastrous beginning.
On its opening day, Friday, December 5, 1969, the Manawatu Standard’s page 4 story read: ‘‘The Palmerston North scene is about to start ‘happening’. Reason: the Clockwork Orange has come to town. This is the city’s first discotheque, opening tonight in the old Farmers Trading Company building (on The Square) with all the trimmings of the best Sydneyside restaurants.’’
The disco’s promoter was a former Palmerston North architectural designer, a few months back in town after six years in the Australian entertainment business. He had formed a company, leased a building and hired a progressive young British commercial artist – Ray Meares – to give shape to his ideas.
‘‘He unleashed Meares’ Carnaby St-saturated mind on the empty first floor of the building, and the pair of them dreamed up a scene to leave the younger set gasping.’’
The promoter wished to remain anonymous ‘‘because he says the stigma attached to this venture may adversely affect his other business interests in the city’’. He had been recruiting ‘‘pretty, shapely, fit young girls with enough courage to stand on pedestal-type stages to perform wild dances before a captivated audience’’.
‘‘Picture this’’ continued the story: ‘‘a whirling spectacle of flashing multi-coloured lights, writhing mini-skirted go-go girls, to the pulsating beat of pop music blaring from a bank of speakers. In the ceiling, oldtime Charlie Chaplin movies flickering silently on one wall; and dozens of longhaired, weirdly dressed youths and girls performing something akin to ritualistic mating dances…’’ Guest bands and musicfilm showings were planned. The Orange would be open on Friday and Saturday nights.
The disco’s name was a nod to Anthony Burgess’ dystopian 1963 novel, A Clockwork Orange, but the equally controversial Stanley Kubrick movie version was still a couple of years in the future.
The promoter was determined the space would not become a ‘‘dive’’ attracting the wrong crowd.
‘‘I intend to run a clean ship. I’ve kept the police fully informed… and I invite parents along to inspect the premises… the kids just don’t have a place where they can let their hair down legitimately without a parent or policeman breathing down their necks.’’
That same night, Friday, December 5, these good intentions were thwarted.
Standard staff reporter Richard Woodd was at the scene. He wrote: ‘‘I was an eyewitness to ugly scenes as scores of teenagers stormed outnumbered police in a screaming, kicking, punching, bottle-swinging mob…’’
The violent element, he estimated, was about a quarter of the 200 people in the room. The brawling started around 10.40pm; ‘‘many were openly drinking from flagons and bottles they had apparently concealed in bags to escape detection…’’
A sergeant and constable arrived to arrest a youth who had