CURTAIN CALL

A hit TV show has exposed one of the Bay’s best-kept secrets. We’re

a powerhouse of performance and creativity, from an amateur theatre

company that’s been staging productions for almost a century, to the artistic director of the Royal New Zealand Ballet and the praise of one of Aotearoa’s most beloved actresses. As they all tell UNO, the show is far from over.

WORDS KARL PUSCHMANN | PHOTOS ALAN GIBSON + SUPPLIED

The Bay’s performing arts scene may not get the same recognition as that of the main centres, but it’s been an integral part of our identity for close to 100 years. In fact, the talent here could be our best-kept secret. With our thriving theatre scene, love of music and festivals, and abundance of visual artists and designers, it feels as if creativity’s no longer happening on the sideline – it’s being celebrated.

No three people understand that more than the president of one of the country’s longest-running theatre companies; the artistic director of the Royal New Zealand Ballet, who studied to become a dancer right here in the Bay; and an international acting superstar. They each represent different corners of the creative world, but their stories all revolve around the sense of community, and the opportunities, encouragement and audiences that are found here.

Actor Tom Kay backstage as Lord Wessex in 16th Ave Theatre’s Shakespeare In Love.

LOCAL LEGENDS

“We’re one of the oldest theatres in New Zealand,” says Heather Graham, with more than a hint of pride at this Tauranga stalwart’s achievement. “The only time we didn’t have any plays going was during COVID.”

Heather’s the president of 16th Ave Theatre, the much-loved amateur outfit that first raised its curtains back in 1936 and has been powered by what she describes as “passionate volunteers” ever since.

16th Ave Theatre is a true Aotearoa institution. It first opened way back in 1936 and has since become a place for enthusiasts of all ages to come together. During this impressive run, Heather says whole generations of the same families have graced its stage, worked behindthe scenes and joined the committee.

“There are probably about half a dozen families where the grandparents, their children and their grandchildren are all involved,” she says. “The theatre really does appeal to all generations.”

Heather says the longevity of this thriving creative community comes down to its welcoming nature.

“All you need to do is want to be involved.”

She says people join for all sorts of reasons. There’s a love of the theatre, of course, but there are also people looking to expand their social activities, others looking to try something new, and some who’ve decided to return to something they loved at school. Acting, building sets, making props or even just helping people find their seats before a show – there’s a place for anyone who’s keen to take part.

The core volunteer group currently consists of around 60 to 70 people, with about 50 front-of-house volunteers waiting in the wings. “We’re all volunteers, so nobody gets paid,” says Heather. “It’s there for the community. Just come and join in, because we love sharing what we’ve got.”

Each year, 16th Ave stages four major productions, alongside smaller ones and play readings. As part of their 90th birthday celebrations, they recently performed the first two one-act plays the company has ever staged, The Green Monkey and The Bishop’s Candlesticks. The next big show is the comedy Lend Me A Soprano, which opens in late November.

The company moved into its current location in 1954, and now boast a 150-seat main auditorium, plus a bar and café area that can double as a black-box theatre seating around 30 to 40 people.

“We open our theatre to outside performers to hire,” says Heather, noting that many people are involved with more than one theatre company, creating a sense of collaboration and shared talent across the city.

Heather’s own journey started humbly. She didn’t have a background in theatre, but a work friend was directing a play at 16th Ave and asked if she could help out backstage, managing the props, saying, “You look like you need something new to do.” Eighteen years later, she’s president. It’s safe to say the acting bug got her, even if she’s not always acting.

When asked why so many people volunteer their time and put so much effort into putting on productions, Heather doesn’t hesitate to answer. “It’s their love of theatre and the sense of belonging you get here,” she says.

Her reply is equally quick when asked why, in this age of YouTube and doomscrolling, audiences are still showing up. “Because the performances are real. You feel a part of it, and you can feel the emotion in the room.”

A WORLD OF TALENT

The connection between performer and audience is something ballet dancer Ty King-Wall understands intimately. “I started to get really serious about dancing when I was a teenager,” he says. “My training was in Tauranga, so we’d drive half an hour over to Tauranga from Katikati nearly every day to train at the Dance Education Centre.”

Today, Ty is the artistic director of the Royal New Zealand Ballet (RNZB), but his journey to the top of the country’s ballet world began right here. For him, the Bay of Plenty was the place where his dreams of a creative life became real.

Ty, who grew up in Waihi and later near Katikati, says his teacher Scott Millen played a critical role in his development at the now-closed Dance Education Centre.

“Often for boys, doing ballet is quite an isolating experience,” he says, “so to have a male teacher role model at that pivotal time was really important for me.”

Ty had become interested in dance after seeing a RNZB performance of the classic fairytale Cinderella, but it was sitting in the audience for a production of famous ballet Swan Lake that changed his world.

He was enraptured, and vividly remembers thinking, ‘That’s what I want to be doing’. He went all in on making that happen, becoming a devoted follower of the RNZB, driving to Auckland to watch three performances a year, and training and competing in Tauranga.

It was an exciting time, with “a constant influx of ideas, and different creatives”. Eventually, his hard work landed him the opportunity to train at the Australian Ballet School. He smiles fondly as he recalls the region supporting him with vital fundraising drives.

“I really felt Katikati and Tauranga getting behind me in a big way,” he says, adding that it was the essential support he needed to pursue an international career. This gave him a strong belief in the role communities can play in developing artists.

RNZB’s artistic director Ty King-Wall.

“Our young artists are the future. Any support you can give them to follow their dreams and their love is crucial, especially at that formative time.”

This support, he says, doesn’t need to be financial. Attending the shows and productions that are being staged around the region is invaluable. It’s also great entertainment and a lot of fun.

After a celebrated career on stage, Ty now heads one of Aotearoa’s most prominent performing arts companies, but even at the top, he’s quick to stress the importance of grassroots creative communities. As he explains, a show isn’t just about the people on stage. There are directors, producers, costume designers, set builders, lighting artists... the list of people conjuring the magic of live performance is comprehensive.

Local theatres and venues provide invaluable training and experience to all of the people involved in every aspect of a live performance and across the different creative disciplines. On stage or off, experience gained at the amateur level can directly lead to professional careers. Ty himself is proof of that.

“It’s all part of a greater ecosystem,” he says. “These people are our collaborators, and if those artists are lost, then the overall scene is poorer for it. It all starts at the local level, at the regional level.”

He pauses and says, “You can’t presume that it’s unimportant – because it’s all important. It’s all part of it.”

Actor Rebecca Gibney.

LIGHTS, CAMERA, BAY

“Tauranga,” says acting icon Rebecca Gibney matter-of-factly, “is actually the amateur theatre capital of New Zealand.” With a smile, she adds, “That’s why Happiness is set there.”

Although Rebecca has never lived here, she’s well aware of Tauranga’s creative scene and how vibrant our amateur theatre community is. She’s thrilled to be showcasing it to the rest of the country, and the rest of the world, via her delightful musical- dramedy, Happiness.

The TV series follows a Broadway director whose circumstances force him back to Tauranga, where he’s reluctantly roped into directing his mum’s amateur musical production. The show’s first season was a hit, winning over critics and audiences at home and overseas with its colourful exuberance, tight comedic scripting, and real sense of place. For Bay of Plenty locals, it’s a lot of fun seeing familiar landmarks pop up on screen. In November, the show will return to Three and ThreeNow for its second season.

“I had no intention of doing a musical,” Rebecca admits, saying she first heard about it on set while filming her popular dramedy Under the Vines in central Otago and Queenstown. Her fellow actors and the crew were all talking about wanting to get work on an exciting new series set in Tauranga.

“The show had such a buzz around it that I couldn’t help myself,” she says. “I had to find out what it was.”

Rebecca believes Happiness has struck such a chord because people need something that makes them feel good while the cost-of-living crisis bites and the news seems relentlessly grim.

“We all need a bit of happiness. We all need a bit of joy,” she says. “I’m all for putting out things that are going to create a positive impact on people when they watch them. I love it because it’s so joyous and uplifting. Happiness is a show that feels like a warm hug. I love that.”

We’re fortunate to live in a region where an amateur theatre company can thrive for 90 years, where a young boy living in Katikati can follow his dreams and end up leading the Royal New Zealand Ballet, and where a series with international appeal can be based here because it’s a place in which the passion of its characters just makes sense. As Heather puts it, “There’s so much going on and so many talented people.”

The arts and our creative scene are a vital component of what makes the Bay of Plenty such a vibrant and exciting place to live. It provides essential experience and support for people who dream of becoming the best in their field, gives enthusiasts the chance to come together and work on their shared passion, and gives the rest of us a place to live where there’s always something to do, see and experience.

It gives us entertainment and escape, brings joy and happiness to all ages, gives memories that stay with you and, in its best moments when the magic truly hits, can change your life forever.

ON THE SHOULDERS OF GIANTS

The seeds of world record-holder Sam Ruthe’s success may have exploded into full bloom recently, but they were sown nearly eight decades ago. Jamie Troughton retraces the remarkable story of a family of runners, which could be culminating in the current generation.

WORDS + PHOTOS JAMIE TROUGHTON + SUPPLIED MAKE-UP DESIRÉE OSTERMAN

If you learn nothing else about Sam Ruthe, just know he’s the type of 17-year-old boy who treasures time with his grandparents.

His ‘Poppa’ and ‘Nan’ are Trevor and Rosemary Wright, who moved to Tauranga 44 years ago. They left behind a life in England, as well as extraordinary athletic careers in their own right.

Sam often pops in during study breaks to see his grandparents at their house in Tauranga’s Avenues, or on his way home from Tauranga Boys’ College, where – almost incongruously – he’s a Year 12 student.

These days, into their late 70s, Trevor and Rosemary are still active. And recently, on a warm autumn day for the umpteenth time in their lives, they were perched on a park bench at Welcome Bay’s Waipuna Park watching cross country. On show was Sam’s younger sister Daisy, and she was putting on an absolute clinic. Not only did she demolish her age group to win the Western Bay under-16 girls title but she cleared home ahead of the entire field of boys, who started at the same time.

“I get more nervous watching the kids and grandkids run than when I used to run myself,” says Trevor. “When I was running, it was down to me and I knew what I was doing, but you can’t control how the kids run their race and you don’t want them to be disappointed.”

Disappointment, however, seems a rare commodity in this family these days. In 1971, Trevor set the world record for the fastest debut marathon, and collected podium medals at the European championships, the New York City Marathon and the London Marathon. His best marathon time would have been enough to finish in the top 40 at the 2024 Paris Olympics. But the former electrician relished the chance to move to New Zealand in 1982, with Rosemary, four-year-old Emma and two-year-old Jess. Now, the girls have five kids of their own and the Wrights are frequently on the sidelines, offering gentle encouragement but a distinct absence of advice. Their once-powerful flame of ambition, which carried them both to achieve worldwide athletic feats, is now just a gentle warm joy for the next generation.

“They really don't talk about their running that much,” says Sam. “Nan's theory is that you don't really need to do too much to be good at running, and she views it as a simple thing you can get good at by doing quality over quantity. She tells me stories about how she used to hide around the corner and eat chocolate while others trained. It might not be a great tip, but it definitely makes running a lot more casual, having that perspective.”

It turns out that Rosemary grew up in Whakatāne – where she spent the first 14 years of her life – next door to the grandmother of one of Sam’s good mates and training partners, Ronin Dickens. That piece of trivia has absolutely no bearing on anything, other than to provide a comforting reminder that, in this country, we live in merely a large village.

Sam’s village is tight and trustworthy and nourishing; his family is his foundation. He may or may not become the greatest runner New Zealand has ever produced, but he will always know where his feet stand, and who has put him on his journey.

“That’s the really cool thing about having a family full of runners – everyone’s been there and done that, and things like records don’t interest them as much,” says Sam. “They understand everything that’s going on, they don’t see you as ‘a runner’, and it helps build your own identity within your family.”

Fifty-six years later, Rosemary can still hear the pulsing roar of 5000 Edinburgh throats, opening as one. Meadowbank Stadium, newly opened for the 1970 Commonwealth Games, shook on its foundations as the women’s 800m field leaned into the final curve.

Time has blurred out most other details for the long time Tauranga teacher, clad that day in the white and St Andrews blue of her adopted Scotland. Intriguingly, she was also something of a prodigy. Then Rosemary Stirling and still just 22, she was at her second Commonwealth Games after a promising debut in Jamaica four years earlier, where she’d picked up a pair of fourths in the 400m and 800m.

Just eight years after moving back to the UK with her British-born parents, and having overcome injury in the lead-up, she was still only rated an outside chance in the 800m on the final day of the Games.

“I remember [England's] Sheila Carey falling over on the first lap and thinking, ‘That’s good’ because she was the favourite to win,” the now 78-year-old recalls of that 1970 final. “And I can just remember crowds. There were huge crowds shouting and bawling and just screaming. It definitely lifted me.”

After two compelling laps, it all came down to the final few desperate strides, when the Kiwi-born Scot lunged at the line to beat England’s Pat Lowe and Australia's Cheryl Peasley. It was the closest finish of the Games, and Scotland’s first-ever female track gold medal at Commonwealth level. It’s given Rosemary an enduring legacy in Scotland. She made the Olympic final in Munich two years later, and her 800m national record stood in Scotland until 2002. She was invited back to help open the 1986 Games and received an honorary doctorate from the University of Glasgow in 2014.

These days, Rosemary downplays her own athletic feats to the point of irrelevance. “It’s only running,” she says. Though dismissive, there’s a glimmer of steel in her tone, well known to the thousands of Tauranga Girls’ College students she’s taught over the years. And there’s also a deeper philosophy embedded in that short truth, one that has become something of a family mantra.

It’s only running. You can see that, later that same autumn day, when Sam starts rekindling his deep, abiding love affair with the sport. On Tauranga Domain’s busy synthetic track, he’s taking the first, slightly tentative steps from a fast walk to a light jog, six weeks after suffering a stress fracture in his fibula during a casual game of backyard football. At 17, it was his first major injury, which has since ruled him out of emulating his grandmother’s Commonwealth Games heroics – this year, at least.

Around him, his village takes note and quietly celebrates. Coach Craig Kirkwood sends his burgeoning training squad on their way, pacing out meticulous laps, alongside Tauranga Boys’ College’s gun running posse, coached by Sam’s uncle, Gareth Hyett. All of them have had front-row seats in the past two years, as a young man in their midst – their buddy, protégé, training mate and schoolmate – burst onto the world stage in the most extraordinary manner.

Sam’s most recent piece of history came at the John Thomas Terrier Classic at Boston University in late January. The mile race featured three Olympians, a world champion, a junior world champion, a US champion and a two-time US college champion – and yet, striding past Belgian Olympian Pieter Sisk in the final 200m, came a 16-year-old from Tauranga, jaw clenched in the final straight, clocking a scarcely believable 3:48.88.

Trevor and Rosemary Wright – aka Poppa and Nan – with Sam and Daisy.

Since New Zealand’s John Walker first broke the three minute 50 second barrier in 1975, only 63 men worldwide have managed it. None were under the age of 18.

As well as breaking the under-18 world mile record – and this is one for the stats lovers – it was also the fastest mile run during the month of January. Ever. But the greatest race of Sam Ruthe’s career – so far – was a curious moment for the Tauranga schoolboy.

“I didn’t really get any sense of satisfaction. Once I finished that race, I thought, ‘I definitely have more to give’. I was just off the plane and know I can definitely go a lot faster than that. At the time, I also didn't really realise how perfect the race went, how even the splits were, the atmosphere at the track and all the factors that played into it.

“But running’s a sport where you’re never satisfied and I don’t even really have goals, so it wasn’t as if it was even a goal for me to run the New Zealand record or the under-18 world record. I guess I was happy about it, but I wasn't satisfied.”

After all, it’s only running. That Boston race was bittersweet for the other Kiwi in the field, who just happens to be another Tauranga prodigy, until recently also coached by Craig, two-time Olympian Sam Tanner. Of course, the 25-year-old has known for a while that his young training partner is something a little bit special. They notably shared the New Zealand 1500m title last year in an enthralling dead heat, and Tanner paced Ruthe on the way to his historic sub-four-minute mile as a 15-year-old weeks later. Things were actually shaping up perfectly for Tanner in Boston, until disaster struck 400m in, with his young training partner tucked in behind.

“I told Sammy before the race, ‘Just turn your brain off and follow me, bro – you’ll be sweet’, and he turned his brain off and followed me. We got in a perfect position, and then the dude who chopped between us clipped my Achilles and I had to pull out. Sam ended up behind him, but then he just went around because that guy was falling off, and then he just followed Peter Sisk, which was perfect.”

Injured, Tanner watched the rest of the race unfold from the sideline, with mixed emotions. “It's not very often that you get a perfect set-up like that for a 3:48 mile. I’ve been waiting five years and I thought it was my chance; often the races that I’ve been part of have had a 3:45 pace or a 3:46 pace and I’m not quite there. You end up blowing up and run 3:50, or 3:49, like I’ve done a couple of times.”

Tanner’s also wise enough to know that a great running career is a thing to build brick by brick, and he piles credits onto Craig for his craftsmanship in that realm.

“Kirky’s just so good at seeing where an athlete’s at, making the best decision and trying to guide them, rather than just thrashing them. He lets the talent speak for itself and just cultivates that. And for Sammy, it just means that a little bit of work goes a really, really long way.

“Sammy and I just got lucky; we can both punish ourselves and enjoy the punishment for the sake of success. And when you've got parents who are good at goal-setting and you look up to them in that sense, it becomes a perfect storm.”

For his sake, young Sam has been exposed to the likes of Tanner, triathlete Hayden Wilde and top Tauranga runner Julian Oakley from the time he started running seriously at 14.

“It's pretty incredible when you can see someone in the training group and you’re like, ‘Oh, that’s the level I need to get to, to make this my career’,” says Sam. “It’s a cool feeling when you’re running with Tanner. Heading off with Ben on the US tour in January, on which Sam broke numerous records. Sam signed with Nike in March 2025. It’s not like, ‘I’m training with an Olympian’ – it’s the feeling of knowing exactly where you need to be to make it. The coolest thing was seeing how close I could get to him, every time I’d run with him, and that brought me to the level I am today.”

Sam has always been polite, quiet, even shy, says Sam’s father, Ben Ruthe. He has a good yarn about his young son at daycare, when a clown came in to make blow-up balloons. Swords, crowns and sausage dogs were being requested and handed out to the other kids, while Sam sat there quietly, as his parents had instructed.

“It wasn’t until right at the end that he went up and asked for a sword, and the clown had run out of balloons,” recalls Ben, clearly still a little mortified. “I thought it might’ve been quite crippling – we'd taught him to be quiet and patient and polite and never demand or ask things, and he’d missed out. I think we spent the next 10 years trying to encourage him to vocalise what he needed!”

From left: Jess, Daisy, Sam and Ben.

These days, Ben has his own semi-permanent air of bemusement about him. He knows a fair bit about running himself, having won the Auckland Marathon in 2008 and New Zealand titles in the 1500m and 5000m.

Sam’s mum Jess, meanwhile, won the Auckland Marathon in 2009 and New Zealand titles in the 1500m, 3000m, 5000m and the 10,000m (twice). Still, they’re amazed by what Sam has achieved so quickly – it’s been far more life-changing for them than their eldest child. While the sub-four-minute mile was staggering, Ben had an inkling things were about to go up a level late last year.

“There were signs in training in November that Sam was in really good shape,” he says. “He was training with Tanner, who couldn’t have been a better training partner, and all of a sudden, instead of a kid trying to keep up with an Olympian, it was, ‘Sam’s starting to hold on here’, and, ‘Sam’s taking his fair share of reps’.”

Sam’s memory is even clearer. He can pinpoint one typical early-Saturday session along Ōtūmoetai’s Beach Road in particular, when he realised he could genuinely foot it with international-class seniors.

“Tanner always makes us share the reps, and when Craig sets us a pace, sometimes I might push it a little bit faster than that, just to test things a bit. I remember one session when everyone else was dropping off and I was thinking, ‘How hard is Tanner puffing right now?’ and I got the feeling that I was nearing his level because he took over and dropped the pace down again. Little moments like that are really cool to look back on.”

Ben points out that Sam’s recent injury has also had the unintended benefit of encouraging him to ask for help, but it also heaps more pressure on the parents of an athlete, when everyday decisions start carrying increasingly larger ramifications.

“We had a debate about suggesting he didn’t go out and play barefoot soccer with his mates. We weighed it up and decided, ‘Nah, we want him to enjoy the best of Kiwi youth’ – and that’s the day he picked up a fibula stress fracture!

“But if I went back in time, I’d still let him go out and play football, because you learn so much from something like this. His mindset now is around strength and conditioning, stretching, core work, cross training. He was a good runner, but now he’s got a much broader view of all of the ingredients he needs.”

Because of that inbuilt, humble mindset, Ben also has no fear that Sam’s international success will cause him to get cocky.

“We really haven't wrapped him up in cotton wool,” says Ben. “We’ve constantly put him in situations where he could test himself, and that comes with risk. He genuinely just enjoys the process and has never wanted fame. He just wants to work hard and work towards results, and any sort of fame is not a motivator for him.”