There were quite a few events and incidents of note but I'll mention just one—one that we'd only planned but had actually failed to implement (for reasons I'll mention shortly). Yes, it sounds a bit of a hollow gesture to mention an unsuccessful prank but I do so because it both conveys the ethos that most students were engulfed in at the time and also it provides a summary of existing attitudes that were commonplace among students almost everywhere across the globe at the time (not to mention that yours truly was in the thick of planning the prank).

Whilst hindsight and a modicum of sense ultimately prevailed and the prank never proceeded to fulfillment, its description nevertheless provides a window into the prevailing zeitgeist of the late 1960s—a time of upheaval, riots, heightened protests and demonstrations, it was a time in which students demonstrated a sense of spirit, audaciousness and direct action with respect to many social issues but it's fair to say that their principal concerns were about the Vietnam War and its injustices[1].

The prank's plan was for students to take possession of a small rocky outcrop in the middle of the harbor colloquially known as Pinchgut, a once old fort and prison, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort_Denison, and then to set up and establish our own pirate radio station in the AM Broadcast band. From there, we intended that students would broadcast antiwar and other student propaganda. I can't claim the idea was mine and although I'm pretty sure that it first originated with Ian Channell I'm not completely certain of the fact (it was a long time ago, perhaps we should ask Ian for posterity's sake :-)). Anyway, Ian was very enthusiastic at the notion and for that matter so was I—as I was still smarting from just having received my unwelcome conscription notification—and there's nothing quite like having one's draft papers in hand to focus one's mind, especially so given that I was opposed to the war. (I wasn't alone, others I knew were also in this disquieting position. A number of them burned their draft cards to ashes, however, I took a smart aleck's approach by burning mine all the way around on the outside which still left it legible (mostly). That didn't in anyway help, except that I never had to explain my position to the draft board as it was bloody obvious.)

Anyway, being centrally located, Pinchgut was both high profile and newsworthy thus in one sense seemingly ideal for the stunt. Similarly from a technical perspective, its location was ideal for a clandestine radio transmitter: as an excellent antenna could be erected easily and we would have had access to about the best antenna counterpoise (ground system) available—the harbor's conductive salt water. Transmitting equipment was essentially already to hand (about 150 watts up the stick), as back then I'd already been a licensed radio amateur from the time I obtained my license in my early high school years—and AM Broadcast Band transmitters are a snack to build.

It's now hard to recall exactly every reason for why it all came unstuck but in essence it boiled down to a lack of time, financial and operational resources and a realization that we'd be sitting ducks in that we'd be instantly shutdown by authorities and likely charged with illegal broadcasting under the then Wireless Telegraphy Act. Nevertheless, it was intended to be a very newsworthy event no matter how short our on-air time might have been (as priming the media in advance to obtain maximum publicity was our main aim). Our likely single biggest problem was that we'd have had to temporarily 'silence' the site's caretaker and his family—and even if somehow we'd managed to get them on board and cooperate, given the extreme polarization between the Government and students at the time, we'd likely have been accused of kidnapping them, or such. More importantly, unlike Radio Caroline, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radio_Caroline, we couldn't call on the protection of being out to sea past the 12-mile territorial limit thus we'd quickly fall victim of the Water Police who'd have immediately confiscated the equipment. Essentially, it was a wonderful location for publicity but it was vulnerable by default. Had better sense prevailed earlier and we'd had additional resources, then broadcasting from outside the 12-mile limit would have been the correct approach.

It's important to add it wasn't our intention to be totally subversive ratbags—that being the then prevailing view most of the Establishment had about anti-Vietnam demonstrators[2]. The aim wasn't to hurt anyone but rather to inform the GP about injustice and other social issues not to mention also having some fun (universities are such damn boring and serious places these days). After all, Ian Channell named the movement Alf-Action for Love and Freedom.

It's very hard to get across to younger people of today the notion of what it was like to live through the late 1960s, it was a truly extraordinary and exciting time in which to live and this was the way it was across much of the world. Whilst the Vietnam War was a major rallying point, it wasn't the only one, as Bob Dylan wrote The Times They Are [were] A-Changin’. Woodstock alone could have been testament to the fact but in the 1960s change was happening so fast that in the grand schema of things it was only a bit player (I know that's a little unfair but you get my gist). That ALF was seriously planning such an imprudent and foolhardy undertaking is testament to those times, as such actions were commonplace amoung many groups. We viewed our actions in essentially the same light as those, who during demonstrations, deliberately put themselves in a position where they'd be arrested.

This was a time of high tension, not only was the Cold War in full force but the enormous social changes that were underway throughout society were changing everything. Moreover, in Western societies, especially so in Anglophone countries, the Vietnam War not only divided politics but also families, workplaces and institutions in ways that I've never seen happen since. To finish, I'll provide a somewhat funny anecdote from my own experience that may help to further illustrate the points I've made.

Unlike many students today who still often live at home, by the time I'd started uni I'd already left home (like most students of the era) and was sharing accommodation with other students, thus I'd had limited direct contact with my family on a day-today basis. At one time during my attendance with fellow students at a very large and rowdy anti-Vietnam War demonstration—one where we'd deliberately targeted the Establishment —pro-war organizations, political party offices, the Army's recruiting center, etc.—it was unbeknownst to me that my father, who was vehemently against the War, was also attending the same rally (the demonstration being so huge that any chance of seeing him there was almost negligible). Anyway, being the loud troublemaker that he was, he managed to be arrested and was chucked into the back of a police Black Mariah then dutifully transported to the local lockup along with other recalcitrants and troublemakers. Simultaneously, in another part of town a group of diehards including myself were being dragged feet-first out of the Army's recruiting center after we'd occupied it. Nevertheless, by some miracle of fate, we were not arrested thus we luckily avoided the Black Mariah and lockup experience.

Now serendipity and happenstance intervened and entered the picture: it turned out that one of my flatmates—now a long-time respected doctor high up in the ranks of the medical establishment—was also bundled into the back of Black Mariah along with my father. At this point neither my father nor my flatmate knew of each other by name or in person (as my father was living in another town some 60 miles away and had not had a chance to visit my flat). Needless to say, whilst waiting in the lockup to be bailed out they got talking to one another and were amazed to discover that I was a common denominator known to both of them!

Anyway, my father, despite his outspokenness, was always the epitome of lawfulness and had never been in a lockup before in his life let alone having ever been in trouble with the law in regard of any other matter and thus he was profoundly embarrassed by the incident. To make matters considerably worse, my father had been a naval officer during WWII so, in a sense, he was already a part of the Establishment with a reputation to defend. Thus, out of embarrassment, he asked my flatmate never to mention the matter to me—and he kept his word, even to the present day, (perhaps he too now worries what the Establishment might think). Some twenty or more years later after the event, I finally learned the truth for the first time when my father eventually decided to spill the beans around the Christmas table.

Whilst I've not spent much time discussing ALF's other activities, nor of Ian Channell's involvement therein, one must assume that we were all caught up in the late '60s milieu. As a sociologist, Ian more than any of us would have lapped up those tumultuous times and bundled them into his Wizard's kit bag.

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[1]https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Protests_of_1968,

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/May_68

[2] State Premier Askin's comment to "run over the bastards" in 1966 during visit by President LBJ when demonstrators blocked the roadway: https://overland.org.au/2016/10/fifty-years-ago-today-when-w... Ever since, he's been known as Robert Run-the-Bastards-Over' Askin. (see '1966' midway down article).