In late 1960, a strange new group called the Hells Angels had piqued the interest of an Auckland Star journalist, who went and interviewed the members. He reported all manner of interesting things, not least of which is that over Christmas the group had delivered crates of soft drinks to orphanages in South Auckland and the North Shore. Years later, I spoke to one of those original members, who told me it was a good excuse to “chat up the nurses”.
I have no idea where the money came from to buy those crates of soft drink, but for the last few decades at least, charitable donations have tended to come from fundraising motorcycle runs.
The most common of these are called poker runs. Motorcycling participants, many of whom are just members of the public who attend, pay an entry fee and then get given a playing card at five different stops (usually pubs). Those with the best poker hands at the end of the run win prizes. The prizes are derived from business who sponsor the events: motorcycle accessories, T-shirts, tattoo vouchers, and bottles of alcohol are common. (There’s often a separate raffle held at these events, too.)
The money raised is used for different things (depending on the group or if their clubhouse needs painting), but it’s often given to charity in part or in full.
On rare occasions, it goes to individuals - a few years back, the Head Hunters gave their proceeds to a young girl with cancer - but more commonly it is given to an organisation.
Most often the money is happily received, but I can remember an ambulance service in Nelson or Whanganui - I can’t quite recall - rejecting one offer and there have undoubtedly been other times, too.
Often, the concern comes when politicians get wind of things, as occurred last week when the volunteer fire brigade posted the donation on Facebook as part of publicity to fund a vehicle they need.
The first instance I have found of politicians decrying these gifts was in 1997, when a swathe of laws was being targeted at the gangs. Indeed, then Labour MP Mark Peck summed up a common sentiment well: “I am not fooled when gang members talk about their little bike trips to raise money for child cancer... they do that to curry favour with a certain group in the electorate, but they have absolutely no desire to give away their lawlessness.”
In 2007, I asked a police officer about the fundraising for charity. He told me: “The media love it, they get great publicity and people think, ‘Oh, these are good old boys’. The public is quite gullible in that sense.”
I was intrigued by idea that the fundraising was an exercise in public relations, so I went and visited a spinal unit that had been receiving such donations from one outlaw club for decades. At that time, the gang were paying for Sky TV and on one occasion had built outdoor tables for the hospital. Unlike many donors, I was told, the group gave the money in a “very quiet and unassuming way” and didn’t want publicity or plaques. If this was PR, it certainly wasn’t textbook.
I asked the group why they did it, and was told that in the 1970s a member had a motorcycle accident and broke his back: “We never forgot what they did, and you never know when we might be providing their next patient.”
While it would be naive to suggest that there isn’t an element of PR in what the outlaw clubs do, it’s equally unthinking to suggest they can’t also have more pure motives too.
What, then, are organisations who are offered these proceeds to do? Was the volunteer fire brigade wrong for taking the money?
The money isn’t from crime, rather stemming from sponsoring businesses and participants and goes to a good cause, and it isn’t being used to curry any form of corrupting favour.
The only fly in the ointment comes from who the organisers are, remembering, of course, that gangs aren’t illegal.
There is moral jeopardy here, but it’s not nearly as clear cut as the politicians suggest.
In the current climate, however, the colour grey is out of fashion, black and white is all the rage.
Dr Jarrod Gilbert is a sociologist at the University of Canterbury and the author of Patched: the History of Gangs in New Zealand.