We are not, we discovered, the first people to attempt to present the narrative of Vincent. Celebrated journalist Warwick Roger, who recently passed away after a long battle with Parkinson’s, was fascinated by his story, as he was about the 1956 Springbok Tour in general.

Harvey, whose initial encouragement provided the impetus to find out more about the man, has considered writing the Vincent tale himself, as has former journalist Wally Thomas and veteran rugby chronicler and columnist Phil Gifford.

The story has never come out because, as Gifford says: “Pat never quite came out.”

If The Five Faces of Pat Vincent hinted at Vincent’s sexuality, it did so in a very subtle manner. The book revealed Vincent was allergic to a multitude of substances including lipstick, which may have “contributed to the fact he never developed any lasting relationship with a girl”, wrote Barley.

Pat Vincent in 1957. Pat Vincent in 1957.

Caldwell, the jazz musician, recalls Vincent would often “date” the same woman, Gwyneth Owen.

“At social [gatherings] or anything like that she was always with him. She was very nice. I do remember her saying, ‘You never got married,’ and Pat replying, ‘No, because you did’.”

Caldwell’s wife Helen had no clue who Vincent was until he turned up at their home wanting to record a jazz EP with her husband Doug.

“He wasn’t handsome. He was grizzly looking but he was a real gentleman and treated you nicely. I think he felt sorry for me when Doug was working at the Malando and I was home with the kids. So Pat would take me to the movies.”

During breaks, Vincent’s autograph was keenly sought after.

“I used to be slightly embarrassed during the interval, because I wasn’t ‘with him’ as such but everyone assumed I was his girlfriend.”

Vincent’s sexuality was never something that came up in casual conversation. New Zealand society in the 50s operated on a “don’t-ask, don’t-tell” policy.

Even when they talk about it now, some of Vincent’s All Black teammates use terminology and phrases that readers might find offensive today.

Hill, the formidable former lock, is a staunch defender of the Vincent legacy. A military man whose upright bearing has begun to stoop only now he’s reached his 90s, Hill loves chatting about his old mate the rugby player, but he’s less keen on talking about off-field matters.

In the concrete Rolleston residence he has called home since 1968 — he and his wife Marjorie have been married 62 years — Hill’s voice remains undiminished, even as his eyesight and hearing fade.

“Pat had no partner. He never bothered, he was never one to worry about women.

“It came up once before,” he says in a cryptic reference to Vincent’s sexuality. “I look at it this way: you could be lesbian, you could be straight, you could be gay, but does that worry me? No it doesn’t, that’s his life.

“As long as he doesn’t interfere with me,” he finishes, laughing heartily.

Young, a tap-dancing hooker on that team, says he didn’t know if Vincent was gay and would never have thought to ask, describing it as a “no-no” subject.

“It [would have been] a very difficult thing for a player to admit to. I don’t know what the reaction would be.”

Says Nev MacEwan, an All Black in 1956: “I had my suspicions when he never married and went to San Francisco to live, but he never did anything around the team that would lead you to think he was gay.”

The idea that Vincent settled in the Bay Area because he was gay doesn’t quite add up, says Jerry Murphy, who played under Vincent when he first started coaching at St Mary’s and remained a lifelong friend.

“The premise seemed to be that San Francisco was a safe haven at the time Pat came here; he escaped for that reason, and that historically isn’t true. Pat came here in the mid-60s, and the gay scene in San Francisco didn’t really blossom till the 80s, at the earliest ’75.”

Murphy said that while there were clearly gay men and women around the campuses and in the cities, there wasn’t an epicentre for the scene, like the Castro suburb of San Francisco would later become.

“It could’ve been there but it wasn’t well publicised.”

The truth was, it would have been extremely difficult to be openly gay and live onsite at a Catholic college, but “at that time I don’t think anybody gay anywhere had an easy time being openly gay”, Murphy continues.

The corner of Ashbury and Haight. The corner of Ashbury and Haight.

“The reasons that he came here were quite legitimate. He wanted to be a university professor, he wanted to get an education beyond his education in New Zealand so he went to Cal’s graduate school.”

However, Jeff Hollings, a New Zealander who played for the US Eagles at hooker and has made his home in San Francisco for 40 years, says it was well known Vincent was gay. In fact, the topic had come up in Vincent’s presence and Hollings said the former All Black always “handled it very well”.

“He didn’t emphasise it, he didn’t deny it; he sort of nodded and went on with whatever he was doing.”

Although it's accurate that an exuberantly public scene did not emerge until the 80s, Hollings says a flourishing gay community existed at Berkeley before “migrating” across the Bay Bridge with the emergence of the Beat Generation and the San Francisco Renaissance.

Despite this, particularly given that he lived and taught on a Catholic campus, it would have been difficult for Vincent to live openly as a gay man.

“He probably found in his later years, especially, that things were more accepting. I think it took New Zealand another 10 or 15 years to get to where it was here in California,” Hollings says.

If he was in a long-term relationship – and responses to that question have ranged, with equal certitude, from, “Yes, he did have a life partner in the US” to, “No, he never had a long-term relationship” – then he made sure it was never obvious.

Robert Vincent from Moteuka has always had a strong interest in his uncle's life. Robert Vincent from Moteuka has always had a strong interest in his uncle's life.

Although this interest might seem prurient, it is not. The fascination belongs in the fact that despite there being close to 1200 All Blacks throughout history, none have been openly gay.

It is statistically improbable for that to be the case, so you look at the reasons why, despite New Zealand being proud of its diverse, inclusive society, its most iconic sporting brand remains without a gay male totem. You also can’t help but wonder if the “normalisation” of homosexuality in New Zealand would take a great leap forward if it was acknowledged that there have been gay players in their past and, undoubtedly, in their future..

In the 1950s, there was nothing normal about being homosexual. Likewise, there was nothing normal about Vincent’s life.

Young was as familiar with Vincent as anybody, but even he acknowledged there was an unknowable side to the man.

Others, like Mick Bremner, also a veteran of the famous 1956 series against Springboks, speak with obvious affection for Vincent, but said he could be tough to get a read on.

“He had a lovely sense of humour and was highly regarded by everyone … He was a bit different, you know. I suppose we all have our idiosyncrasies and he was certainly a little bit this way,” he says.

In 1950s New Zealand, a “bit different” could mean anything from leaving the house without a hat to smoking the wrong brand of cigarettes. If you were a man who was attracted to other men, you would have to be very careful about who you shared that knowledge with.

Even now, his teammates feel compelled to defend him as if the suggestion he was gay was not a part of his character, but a slur on it.

“Pat’s a lovely chap, I liked him. I don’t like to see him damned. Look, he was a bit bloody unusual. I mean, what the hell was he wearing a bloody sombrero and boots for?” Bremner says of one outfit Vincent adopted after living in the US. “I said: ‘Where’s the horse?’”

Pat Vincent in California. Pat Vincent in California.

The other point to remember is this: people just didn’t talk about it. The Homosexual Law Reform Act, which would decriminalise sex between consenting men, was not passed until 1986. The sexual mores were more liberal in California but in the rugby and educational circles Vincent moved in, it would not have made for an easy topic of conversation.

“I would guess some suspected, but I'm not aware of anyone who knew for sure,” says Paul Stich, who was the Herald’s point man in California and perhaps does more than anybody to make sure sure Vincent is remembered. “We all had such great respect for him, and cared for him, that if he brought it up, fine, but we never did. It just didn't matter.

Paul Stich and Mike Ghilotti were coached by Pat Vincent at St Mary's. Paul Stich and Mike Ghilotti were coached by Pat Vincent at St Mary's.

“What I’d hate,” he says later, “is if that was to become Pat’s legacy.”