A Good Sport

A good sport

Filmmaker Matt Norman reveals why it was so important for his uncle's legacy to be heard.

The year was 1968, the place Mexico City. Three men––two black Americans and one white Australian––stood on the Olympic podium to accept their medals for the 200 m sprint. As The Star Spangled Banner echoed throughout the stadium in honour of an American victory, history was made.

With heads bowed, the two Americans each raised a black-gloved fist in the recognised ‘black power’ salute. All three athletes stood still and silent as the crowd began to react to the defiant protest taking place on the podium. Boos and jeers soon drowned out the words of the American national anthem.

The photograph of that incident has become synonymous with the struggle for equal rights taking place in America at the time. While hindsight and changing attitudes allow us to reflect on the protest as an act of bravery and insight, few look to the story behind the image.

What many don’t realise is that, far from being afforded a heroes’ welcome, the black athletes who took part in the protest were sent home in disgrace.

But perhaps even more surprising, particularly in a country where an athlete’s knee injury makes front-page news, is the fact that few Australians know the name of their countryman who stood alongside the athletes in protest.

Peter Norman won the silver medal for Australia in the 200 m sprint at Mexico City.

As an athlete, Peter Norman’s achievements speak for themselves. But it was as a man, someone who took a stand for what he believed was fair and just, that his true courage shone through. Finally, many Australians will have the chance to understand the achievements of a man who can truly be called a sporting hero.

For the past six years, filmmaker Matt Norman has been consumed with the life of his beloved Uncle Peter. As a young boy, Matt knew that his uncle was a special man, but it wasn’t until he began to delve into his sporting life that he realised just how special Peter Norman was.

The result of those six years is the documentary film Salute, a moving and inspirational account of that historic moment at the Olympics and the aftermath felt by all three men who took part.

To say Salute has been a labour of love would be something of an understatement. Sitting in the boardroom at Paramount Pictures, Matt explains that not only was he inspired by his obvious love for his uncle, he was motivated by a desire to tell the story of social justice.

While no longer a member of The Salvation Army, Matt credits his family’s Salvo background with instilling deeply entrenched beliefs in social justice and the need to speak up for those who are unable to speak for themselves.

‘Peter’s mum and dad were both Salvo officers [ministers], their parents were Salvo officers, my grandparents on mum’s side were Salvo officers, so it was hard not to be [influenced],’ says Matt.

‘There were Salvo officers everywhere and they used to call me “Little Brig” when I was a kid,’ laughs Matt. (The term ‘Brigadier’ denoted a high-ranking officer in The Salvation Army.)

Matt goes on to explain that from a very young age, he had a sense of right and wrong. But while other kids may have dressed as their favourite superhero to right the wrongs of the world, Matt found his super-strength in his grandmother’s hatpin.

‘I believe I got some kind of need to tell justice stories because my grandmother gave me a Salvo badge, the red shield with “The Salvation Army” written across it from her hat. I used to put it in a wallet and I would flash it like it was a police insignia. I had that badge for years.’

As a filmmaker, Matt has told stories of those often marginalised by society. In The Writer, actor Kym Gyngell portrayed a man living with schizophrenia, while The Umbrella Men told the tale of soldiers at Gallipoli forced to arm themselves with umbrellas and explored the issue of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Matt describes himself as the ‘black sheep’ of the family. ‘I failed at school drastically––I even failed at English, which is kind of crazy, because I’ve written 13 feature films,’ he says.

The affinity Matt feels towards his uncle is evident as he speaks of a man who was always willing to listen to his often-wayward nephew.

‘Peter was my mentor––the relationship I had with him is the relationship I would have liked with my own father.

‘I could be honest with Peter, no matter if I did something stupid. He’d be there to listen to what I had done, give me advice on how to undo it, if it needed undoing. I got to a stage where I could tell him anything.

‘So I always had someone to talk to. I’d never get an adult’s advice; it was always a friend’s advice. I never felt stupid if I had to ask hard questions. He was a role model for me especially and I think that’s why we got along so well because I just treated him as a mate.’

The ‘black sheep’ traits Matt admits to were also evident in his uncle, a man who ignored an official Olympic team edict to remain uninvolved in any political action in Mexico City.

The late ’60s were a time of enormous social change, when young people were questioning the status quo. But, particularly in Australia, it was also a time when conservatism was attempting to assert its authority. And the sporting arena was no place for anyone to try to buck the system.

While the civil rights movement in America might have seemed a world away to the young Peter Norman training in Australia, he was aware of the issues his black competitors were facing.

Norman knew that his own country had yet to acknowledge its own racial concerns. Australia’s immigration was still determined by the White Australia Policy and the nation had only recently recognised its indigenous population as citizens.

But it was in America that the civil rights movement was making progress. The assassinations of Senator Robert Kennedy and the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr in 1968––both vocal in their support of equal rights––only served to strengthen the resolve of those fighting for social justice.

There had been talk of a boycott by black American athletes prior to the Mexico City Olympics. When this was averted, the athletes resolved to use the world stage to raise awareness of their cause.

The games passed without incident until 16 October and the final of the 200 m sprint, when Peter Norman ran second. Black Americans Tommie Smith and John Carlos ran first and third respectively.

In the locker rooms prior to the medal ceremony, Norman was privy to his competitors’ plans. When Smith and Carlos discovered they only had one pair of black gloves between them, it was Norman who suggested they each wear one glove. Norman then asked a member of the US rowing team if he could wear his Olympic Project for Human Rights badge.

And so the three athletes headed out to the stadium to receive their medals and create one of the most memorable images of the 20th century.

The backlash that followed the medal ceremony was swift and the effect of that one action was to follow Norman for the rest of his life.

Although initially vilified in their own country, in later years Smith and Carlos were feted as heroes of the civil rights movement, and even had a statue erected in their honour.

But for Norman there would be no such accolades at home. This was not seen as a larrikin act, such as stealing a flag. This was an athlete daring to speak up for what he believed was right.

Norman’s time would easily have qualified him for the 1972 Munich Olympics, but that year Australia decided against sending a sprint team.

And, if they awarded medals for holding a grudge, Australia’s sporting officials would surely win gold. As past athletes lined the stadium at the opening ceremony for the 2000 Sydney Olympics, Norman––whose Australian record for the 200 m sprint would have won gold at Sydney––was nowhere to be seen.

The American team was so shocked by this obvious omission of a man they admired that they invited Peter as an official guest of their team.

By combining contemporary interviews with archival footage, Matt Norman has effectively captured the spirit of the ’60s with reflective insight.

While many of us may question the wisdom of our own youthful indiscretions, for these men the wisdom of hindsight has only served to reinforce that––in spite of the personal hardships their protest caused––their actions on the day were justified and righteous.

Speaking to Matt, it is obvious that making the movie has taken an emotional toll on the filmmaker––the legacy of his uncle is again apparent. Matt has produced a film at great financial and personal cost because it was something he believed in––it was a statement worth making.

While the financial toll has been incredibly difficult for Matt, undoubtedly the greatest challenge has been overcoming emotional hurdles. In 2006, just as Matt and his uncle were to head off to America with the movie, Peter Norman died.

‘Peter saw a first cut of the film and we were ready to go to the States to promote it,’ explains Matt. ‘Two days before we were due to head off, he died.

‘From then, that kind of turned my world upside down. I had to concentrate on the film about Peter, which was hard enough, and I wasn’t really in the mood to be promoting and selling it.

‘In fact, I haven’t yet grieved for his loss. I made a promise to him before he died, not expecting him to die, but I made a promise that his story would be told and I would do everything that I needed to do to get it out there.’

With apologies for the sport-ing metaphor, I ask Matt if he feels the ‘baton’ has now been passed to him.

‘That’s exactly what he said. He said his time for civil and human rights is over and he said “I’m passing you the baton; you do what you have to do to get a message out”. He’s always believed that one person can do it.’

Matt knows that the Norman name opens doors for him, but it also carries a great weight of responsibility. Among the civil rights activists he has met in the past year are spiritual leaders such as the Dalai Lama.

Sadly, the message Peter Norman had for the world in 1968––to take a stand against human suffering and injustice––is just as pertinent today as it was 40 years ago. At the Beijing Olympics, not only have athletes been officially warned against making any sort of political statement, even spectators have now been told to ‘curb their enthusiasm’ when barracking for their own country.

As our nation prepares for a mass celebration of our sporting prowess in yet another Olympic games, there is perhaps no better time to reflect on the life of a true sporting hero––a man who made his sport count for more than just fast times and personal accolades. A man who stood up for what he believed in.

Deb Bennett

Salute is screening at selected cinemas and will be the in-flight entertainment on all Qantas flights to Beijing for the Olympics. Go to www.salutethemovie.com for more info.

To purchase your copy of "A Race to Remember––The Peter Norman Story (a tie-in book to the film) by Damien Johnstone and Matt Norman, go to www.salutethemovie.com where it is now available for purchase.