Where are you John Ian Wing?

We had further contact in 2000, when I had the task of nominating street names in Sydney’s Olympic precinct and athletes’ village, and opted for the name John Ian Wing Parade for the road leading into the main stadium. Again, he was invited to return to Australia as a guest of honour at the Games.

While the story of John Ian Wing provides a pleasant example of how a modest idea can become a great one, some questions remain. The chief one is: how did it happen? Wilfrid Kent Hughes was an autocratic man, but surely he couldn’t just impose Wing’s plan on those Olympics. Wouldn’t he need to mention it to his own organising committee? And what about the International Olympic Committee, whose sanction for such a departure from tradition would obviously have been needed? What about its equally autocratic president Avery Brundage, who was on the spot in Melbourne? Wouldn’t he have had the last say?

In 2007 I contacted the only three surviving members of the Organising Committee of the Melbourne Olympics: Jack Howson, Arthur Tunstall and J. Eddin Linton. All three were emphatic that the committee did not meet formally during the Games, that running decisions were made by Kent Hughes, sometimes in consultation with the honorary secretary, Edgar Tanner, or specific experts.
They were certain that Kent Hughes – who, while he was a forceful conservative, had often been prepared in politics to stand alone – would have made the judgment to take up the Chinese boy’s idea. He was the recipient of the original letter, he liked its idea of a message of peace and tolerance at a time of global conflict, and, once he decided it was worth doing, he would not have tolerated any dissent from members of his own committee.

The official record of the IOC’s four sessions held before and during the Melbourne Games makes no mention of the closing ceremony idea – but that isn’t surprising. The last session was held a couple of days before John Ian Wing wrote his letter. Howson and Tunstall are both certain that the IOC approval came verbally and enthusiastically from Brundage, possible in company with his vice-president, the Marquis of Exeter, in a last day conversation with Kent Hughes. (Linton, who left Melbourne because of family illness before the end of the Games, was unable to offer a view).

It was a judgment that had to be made on the run....there was no time left for formal meetings. On the Saturday night, after the last flag had been lowered and the flame extinguished, Brundage and Exeter told reporters that the mixed parade had been a fine idea, one they hoped would become a permanent “part of the Olympic picture”...... (see footnote 2)

The footnotes have been added and are not part of Harry Gordon's book
[Footnote 1]  The Australian Prime Minister Robert Menzies and my father were very good friends. Whenever in town, the Prime Minister and the Australia Treasurer Harold Holt and their wives would always come to my father’s restaurant for dinner. My father would have been embarrassed if the Prime Minister had mentioned that I had written a letter to the Olympic authorities.

[Footnote 2]  At an Olympic Congress in the 1920s, a new law was brought in to prevent any single person from making any alterations or amendments to an Olympic event or ceremonies. Any changes had to be discussed and voted upon by the relevant committees then, it is to be presented to the Executive Committee where it would be discussed and voted upon. This could take months if not years for final approval. We did it in two days.

After the Games, President Brundage was reprimanded by the Executive Board of the IOC for failing to consult them on this matter and more importantly, not complying with the Olympic Charter.

 The Executive Board must have liked my suggestion because they decided to allow the parade to continue at every closing ceremony, but it would not be incorporated into the Olympic Charter because no voting had taken place. Therefore, the records in the Olympic Archive would only have the words, “it had been suggested.” There would be no mention about a Chinese boy and his letter. My letter is now part of Australian History and is kept at the National Library of Australia in Canberra.

end.