O1B1F5E. 1963 TUKKIES (63 - 65)

MOMENTS IN OUR LIVES-1 2026-02-06

THE GOLDEN YEAR AT TUKKIES

In 1963, my third year at Tukkies, my world shifted to Sunnyside. I found lodgings at 541 Jorrisen Street, in the student house of a German minister. They themselves lived in a characterful double-storey house above our house where we stayed. I still remember his two children well - both in typical German school uniforms of white and red, the little boy with his black leather trousers and cross-straps.

It was a time when community and simplicity were the essence of student life. There were 14 of us, and it was without a doubt my most enjoyable year at university. I was the only third year among a bunch of first years, like the two Davids (Vermeulen and Breedt) from Welkom in the large front room with the bay window. Neels Henning was from Zastron. He told me how his father repaired a single-cylinder Bulldog Lanz tractor’s bearing with a piece of oiled cowhide, which lasted for years - a piece of true farmer ingenuity that will always stay with me. It is a classic example of farmer planning that you rarely hear about these days. Neels and I became great friends. We were both very interested in photography. He studied Electrical Engineering.

I myself lived opposite the two Davids in the front room. Because many Transvalers often spoke so disparagingly of the “Capies”, it made me a sworn supporter of the Western Cape. I had a Scottish-patterned blanket, hung it on the wall, and pinned all the Cape photos I could get my hands on to it with pins. I remember a soulful piece of prose with a beautiful photo of the Langkloof, with the words “where the smoke rises straight up into the blue sky”.

Coen Verhoop studied B.Sc. Among our group there was also a German, Dieter, with whom I also became good friends. His father received an Iron Cross in the Second World War, which Dieter was naturally very proud of.

It was a sturdy old house with plank floors, ideal for a student house. One day four of us, Neels, the two Davids and myself, climbed into the bathtub together. It was full of water and Omo soap suds and we splashed everyone with great joy. The soapy water ran down the hallway and we sprayed it out the back door with the garden hose. Students are still only half-human. Many years later, when I was working in Stellenbosch, a visitor asked the secretary one day how many people were there in Stellenbosch. She answered, “There are 5,000 people and 5,000 students.”

We had meals at an auntie a few houses down the street. We were not very far from the Tukkie campus, and most of us rode our bicycles there - no one had a car or motorbike. We were also not very far from the city centre. All of us came from the countryside, so it was nice to go to the city for distraction, or go to the movies. There were several cinemas in the city centre, including one where you could sit all day while different films played one after the other - of course not of the best quality.

STUDENT FESTIVALS AND THE HIJACKED TRACTOR

Our student fun reached its peak with the hijacking of the Rag tractor at Asterhof's annex. It was an operation with military precision. A group of us regularly visited girls in the annex. There in their foyer stood a little metal tractor, which had been built for the girls by engineering students for the Rag. We then made plans to steal it. We looked at it carefully, felt how much it weighed and took measurements. It was quite heavy, because everything was made of metal. We found someone who had a pickup truck that the tractor would fit on.

The previous evening one of us used a slingshot to shoot out the street light in front of the annex so that other students wouldn’t recognize us. During dinner, when all the girls were in their dining hall, the guy drove the bakkie to the front door, and we loaded the tractor. But the wheels were too wide to go all the way into the bakkie, so two of us stood on the back of the drop side and held the tractor up with our legs while the other students hung like flies on the sides. The guy pulled away at speed and I remember that the tractor pushed very hard against my legs when the guy accelerated and I had to grab hold of the rails with Dieter to prevent the tractor from falling off. It was actually very dangerous, because if our feet had been pushed out, we might have fallen off ourselves. Fortunately, that didn’t happen and we made it safely to our house, where we tied the tractor to the pillars on the porch in front of my bedroom window with galvanized wire.

When I studied in the afternoons, I struggled to keep my eyes open. Then I did something else, like read a book, and I was wide awake. When I started studying again, I was back to sleep within fifteen minutes. Then I decided to study at night. I ate early in the evening and went to bed at about seven o’clock. Just before midnight, I got up, made coffee with my immersion heater and started studying until about five o'clock. Then I went to bed again until about seven o'clock, so that I was still in time for classes, which started at about eight o'clock.

For months that little wired tractor sat stuck on my stoep, until another group of students quietly stole it one night while I was sitting and studying. I just let them take it; the novelty had worn off by then.

While in Pretoria, my heart was often in Oukraal in Caledon. Heléne and I corresponded regularly. The postal service was remarkable in those days; a letter posted in Pretoria on Monday morning before eight o’clock was delivered on the farm by Tuesday afternoon.

During holidays at Oukraal, Heléne and I explored the farm and I lived out my passion for photography. I remember the abundant mealtimes where her mother always served Eva, the maid, and Lea, her little daughter, first before we had our turn.

In the evenings we "sat up" for the first time by the light of a paraffin lamp. Later, when she went to Cape Town for her typist course, I went to see her in the Gardens. That photo of her in the red suit under the arbor in the Gardens is a precious memory of the beginning of our journey together. The municipal bus service was very good back then. There was a bus about every few minutes, and they were very punctual. We enjoyed each other's company, and it was nice to explore the Cape. Before that, I didn't really know the Cape, because I mainly grew up in Rawsonville and Cradock.

In 1963 my studies were much better. We had really good lecturers, like Professor Botha, who served on Dr. Verwoerd's Economic Advisory Board. For the first semester, Professor Gerhard de Kock, President of the SA Reserve Bank, taught us Commerce. He was a wonderful person and I got 67%, the highest I have ever gotten for a subject. For the second semester, Dr. Francois du Plessis, the Managing Director of Sanlam, taught us. What a contrast. He began his very first lecture with “I don’t care whether all of you get distinctions or whether all of you fail”.

1964 – THE YEAR OF THE TRIUMPH AND THE TRAGEDY

In 1964, I registered to attend extramural classes at UP in Proes Street. Both Heléne and I went to stay in the Youth Centre in Vermeulen Street, just below Church Square.

I applied for a job with the Civil Service. The investigation was quite comical. There must have been about 20 of us. Of course, everyone had to fill in your details on a form. From the forms, the personnel clerk then calls us out one by one. There were two Piet Venters. When he calls out the second one, no one answered. It turned out that one guy copied his information from the guy next to him, right down to the name!

The medical was just as funny. Everyone undresses, only with their underpants on. The doctor then walks from one to the other and looks everyone through, from your teeth down to between your buttocks!

I went to work at the Department of Imports. I started studying extramurally and stayed at the Youth Centre in Vermeulen Street. After a short period at the Department of Imports, I started working at the NBS.

The Triumph Bonneville and the Lark

At that time I bought my first car, an old Triumph TR2, which I later found was mechanically not in a good condition. There was about R50 left from my monthly salary after everything was paid. From that, one month I bought an engagement ring for Heléne at Sterns, and the next month pistons, rings and bearings for the Triumph. Buying is one thing, but putting it together is something else entirely - the dozen parts lay in the trunk of the TR2 for a few months.

Coen Verhoop had a beautiful light blue Triumph Bonneville 650cc motorcycle at that time. His father was an engineer at Iscor in Vanderbijlpark and he was knowledgeable about cars. Coen then asked me if I would like to trade the TR2 for the Bonneville. I agreed. So Heléne and I had a vehicle, and we enjoyed it very much. There is nothing as exciting as the power of a big bike. The parking lot of the Youth Center was under the building and I remember like today how I slowly rode up the "ramp", over the cement footpath, between the parked cars. Then I threw the bike to the right and turned on the gas - you really feel how the power lifts the bike and shoots it forward. The power-to-weight ratio of a big bike is much better than that of most powerful sports cars. At that time 650cc was one of the biggest motorcycles.

Once we were on an open road out of Sunnyside at a robot when a Studebaker Lark with a V8 engine stopped next to us. The Larks were used by traffic police for interception, among other things, so they were fast. The driver revved his V8, which meant he wanted to dice - a common tactic in Pretoria. I told Heléne to hold on and when the light turned green I released the clutch and turned the petrol on full. The Lark simply disappeared from my field of vision.

The Battle of Loftus

On Saturday 1^st of August 1964, there was a huge clash between the Western Province and Northern Transvaal, the favourites for the Currie Cup that year, at Loftus Versveld. The Western Province team featured Springboks John Gainsford, Mike Lawless, Dave Stewart, Doug Hopwood (captain) and Jannie Engelbrecht - the Northern Transvalers called him "Bang Jan", because he was not known for his tackling ability. The Northern Transvaal team featured Frik du Preez, Mof Myburgh, Stompie van der Merwe, Louis Schmidt, Thys Lourens and Ernst du Plessis, who they said was a much better winger than Jannie. The Pretorians were prepared for a massacre.

The air above Pretoria was thick with heat and the smell of braai smoke, but within the chalk lines of Loftus there was an icy tension. The crowd of 50,000 was dead silent - an unusual occurrence for this rugby mecca. During the match, Dave Stewart kicked a penalty kick and when Jannie bent down to pick up the ball, Louis Schmidt deliberately ran into him from behind and knocked him shoulder first into the field. Jannie broke his collarbone and he was in great pain. Hopwood came to him and said to him “Jannie, you’re not going off.” There were no substitutions in those days. Jannie stayed.

He put his hand in his trousers to reduce the painful movement of his shoulder. During the break, Hopwood told Jannie “Stay, Jannie. Don’t show them anything.”

During the second half, Wynand Mans picked up a bouncing ball and it went like lightning down the line to Jannie. He pressed the ball against his weak arm with his good hand and went to score under the posts - he had to sit on the ball as he couldn’t score normally because of his broken collarbone. At that stage the pain was almost unbearable and Jannie told Hopwood he couldn’t take it anymore. Hopwood again told Jannie to stay. With 2 minutes left and just yards from their own goal line, WP won the scrum and Dirkie de Vos broke past Louis Schmidt and passed the ball to Jannie, 60 yards from the Northern Transvaal goal line. He ran past Northern Transvaal's famous Ernst du Plessis and scored under the posts. WP were then 11-9 ahead. Rooies van Wyk scored another try for WP, to make the final score 16-9. The crowd, which had previously booed WP, ​​now cheered them, ​​especially for Jannie's brave performance. Jannie went to hospital.

The following week Louis Schmidt, Thys Lourens and Ernst du Plessis were dropped out of the Northern Transvaal team. On a bus I tried to start a chat with a guy. When I made it clear that I was a WP supporter, the bloke turned his back on me in annoyance. That's why I don't like the Northern Transvaal rugby crowd - they can't take a beating.

It was indeed one of the most heroic performances in South African rugby history. The detail of how Jannie had to sit on the ball to score makes one realize anew how tough the game was back then.

Let us place ourselves in that historic afternoon:

“Suddenly the silence breaks. The ball spreads rapidly, from hand to hand, a precision movement that makes the Western Province backline look like a well-oiled machine. Engelbrecht receives the ball. The crowd gasps for breath. He is not just running against the defenders; he is running against the pain. With his arm hanging numbly at his side, he steps inside. His speed is his shield. He dives over the line, and the crowd explodes in a thunderous cheer that can be heard all the way to Church Street. It was not just a try; it was proof of undiluted marrow in the bones. Jannie did not run with his legs, he ran with his heart.”

Imagine the crackling reception of a wireless at the time, for the thousands of rugby enthusiasts over the country that were not lucky enough to be around the field themselves. To those who heard the sound of that era, the excitement in Gerhard Viviers' voice that almost broke, and the roar of Loftus in the background:

The sound of a sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by a thunderous roar from the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you could cut the atmosphere here at Loftus with a knife! It's Northern Transvaal against Western Province, and the air is thick with dust and drama. But look there... look there on the touchline. It's Jannie Engelbrecht. He grits his teeth, his shoulder hangs strangely, and the doctors shake their heads. But Jannie? Jannie shakes off the pain! He refuses to leave the field. He stands there like a lone sentry on the wing, his face drawn with pain, but his eyes fixed on the ball.

Here comes the attack now! The ball comes out of the scrum... it's fast, it's clean! The WP halfback pair let it go. The ball streaks through the air to the centres. The defence shifts over, but they forget about the man with the broken shoulder!

Jannie gets the ball! Oh, my goodness, you should have seen it! He catches it with one hand, he presses it to his chest. He pulls away! He steps inside, he lets the defender grasping air! The pain must be unbearable, but he's racing towards the corner flag!

HE'S OVER! HE'S OVER! Jannie Engelbrecht scores a try that will rewrite the history books! Loftus goes crazy! People throw their hats in the air! This isn't just rugby, ladies and gentlemen... this is pure, undiluted heroism!"

The Accident

This part of this story is incredibly moving. It highlights how quickly a moment of generosity can turn into a lifetime of sorrow. It's a somber reminder of the fragility of life.

We were sitting at one of those 4-seater tables at the Youth Centre for dinner and with us was a couple of about our age. They were planning to visit her parents in Thabazimbe this weekend on their Lambretta 175 scooter, and they had been very excited about it since Monday. On Wednesday, their faces were hanging at the table and the guy said there was a problem with the Lambretta and they wouldn't be able to go now. Impulsively, I said they could borrow the Bonneville, to which they immediately thanked me profusely. I immediately realised it was a mistake, but they were so childishly happy that I couldn't bring myself to withdraw my offer.

I knew I had to teach him the ropes with the Bonneville and on Thursday after work he and I went out of the city centre to quieter roads at the Fountains. There I explained to him how everything worked and he took over. I didn't even take my helmet with me.

I can only remember my heart was in my mouth, because I could sense he was clumsy on the bike. We were riding down a downhill path towards Waterkloof, when he drove over a stop street. A brand new Cortina came along, the driver swerved and rolled his car. We swerved and rode up the grassy embankment. The guy went through the air, his leg hit the anchor wire of a lamppost and broke. I went through the air and hit my head on the garden wall and I was out like a candle.

I can vaguely remember the wail of the ambulance siren. By chance one of the guys I worked with at NBS lived in that area and he heard the ambulance. He told me much later that the Bonneville's engine was still running when he got there and he switched it off.

The ambulance took us to the Pretoria General Hospital (Hendrik Verwoerd). I had a concussion and my left leg's fibula was cracked. When I came to, I just wanted to get out of bed and got off, but when my feet hit the floor I collapsed. Then they put high bars around the sides of my bed to prevent me from getting off again. My left leg was in a splint.

It didn't go so well with the other guy. Apparently marrow from the broken leg got into his bloodstream and accumulated in his brain. He died after a few days.

I needed a few weeks to recover and my Dad arranged for me to stay with them. At that stage they were in de Aar, and it was nice to be with them. In the evenings we sat around the paraffin heater. It was in winter and I remember how in bed at night that leg was in such pain that I wished I had an axe, then I would have chopped it off.

I must have taken some of my textbooks with me, but I don't remember learning much. It was now the 4th year of my studies and I had still Business Economics III, Economics III and Auditing to complete. When my leg had fully recovered, I returned to Pretoria and Heléne and the Extramural Varsity.

NEW BEGINNINGS IN THE BAY

By the end of 1964, the tide had turned. Mum had given me her 1953 Ford Consul as a wedding present. I had always wanted to work at General Motors in Port Elizabeth and had applied. They wanted to see me for an interview. It was the first time I had been in an aircraft, a Viscount Turboprop. I was amazed at how quickly it accelerated on take-off - you were pressed firmly against the back of your seat when the pilot put on full power.

After I wrote my exams, I found an apartment in Sydenham, Port Elizabeth and bought the most necessary furniture. Then I started working at General Motors from 23 November 1964.

With a new job, and the prospect of a life with Heléne, I thought the chapter of my student years was now closed and that the road ahead was open. I had loved photography since my school days, but I didn’t have money for a good camera at school. At that time, the top of the range 35mm cameras was the Nikon F reflex camera - it was used by many professional photographers. Then I saw a second-hand Nikon F Photomic at a photography shop in the city centre of Port Elizabeth for R167, which was a good price at the time, and I bought it. I was like a child with a new toy. I kept it for many years, until I eventually stopped taking photos and sold it.