Henderson's racecourses

Ben Copedo, well-known West Auckland local historian (someone I am truly honoured to say I know), asked me a question when I last visited Mill Cottage, the HQ for the West Auckland Historical Society. Something, as I recall, about why on earth there'd be a racecourse in Henderson. Short answer to that is: well, why not? Back in the 1860s to early 1900s, there seemed to be racecourses popping up everywhere, wherever some obliging farmer had a spare paddock, or even a stretch of beach. Rail transport wasn't a necessity, although it did help when it came to bringing in the crowds, so Henderson's racing history did pre-date the coming of the Kaipara Line in 1880.

Then, there came the research tangents, of course ...

Yesterday Ben gave me a brilliant map he'd made, showing some of Henderson's early landmarks and roughly where they were. I was rapt. He's included Prior's Landing, Delta Landing, Henderson's saw mill, the Oratia Hotel ... and the two racecourses. Yes, two racecourses, separated by the Swanson Road (and more paddocks) and a few years in time.

Here's what I have so far ...

On 4 January 1862, the first known horse races in Henderson were staged and called the Dundee Saw Mill Races, after the name given to Henderson's saw mill. This was held, according to Ben, in a paddock at the back of what is now the Methodist Church, close to the corner of Swanson and Lincoln Roads. Henderson's horse racing history got off to a lively start. The Pony Race was run in heats, and was for "ponies that never ran for public money. The first heat was disputed, but was finally given to Tubby, who came in 3rd. Second heat Tubby threw his rider twice, and was distanced, as were also Gipsy and Boomerang, both of whom bolted off the course." (SC, 14 January 1862)

Heartened by their success, the organisers had another meeting the following year. This too went well, even though the Hack Race provided some drama: "The first heat was won by Mr. Coyle's Miss Grizzle, and the second would to all appearance have secured the prize to her owner, but that shortly after the start the rider was thrown, and the mare bolted across the country. She was, however, caught after a gallop of four miles, and brought up to the starting post in time to contest the third heat, which she won easily." (SC, 5 January 1863) This time, I suspect, the rider kept a firmer hold of the situation.

Another meeting of the Dundee Saw Mill Races was held in December 1866 -- then, it vanishes from the record (well, at least from what it known at the moment).

In 1873, the "Henderson's Mill Races" were advertised to take place on Boxing Day. Now, there was a grandstand, refreshment booths, stewards and clerks of the course. The organisers were taking the Sport of Kings in Henderson very seriously now, and may have made their move to the second site, off Henderson Valley Road, opposite and just a bit to the south of today's railway station. The grandstand faced Keeling Road, looking south-west. The site, in 1875, was described as "a large paddock at the rear of J. McLeod's Hotel. This was one reason for the early success of the Henderson's Mill Turf Club -- proximity to a place where thirsts could be slaked with more than just water and ginger beer. By 1876, the Southern Cross recorded: "We noticed many of the leading citizens of Auckland present, and no doubt on another occasion many more will avail themselves of the opportunity of enjoying a very pleasant drive in the country, and derive benefit from visiting Henderson's Mill race course, which is equal to any in the province." This statement, I imagine, was intended to include the new Ellerslie racecourse, which cannot have pleased that venue's backers when they read it! Indeed, some members expressed their dissatisfaction that Henderson should choose to hold a meeting on Boxing Day when the Auckland Racing Club held theirs at Ellerslie: "... no true sportsman would do such a shabby thing as to hold a meeting in opposition to the meet of the province," one Ellerslie fan huffed to the Southern Cross editor. Henderson, way out in the country, was seen as a real threat, even though Ellerslie had a railway close by and Henderson did not.

When rail did come to Henderson after 1880, people attended the races in their droves. Attendances were usually from 600-1500 in the good years of the 1880s, and one year was reported to have topped the 2000 mark. The last good meeting for Henderson was possibly that held in March 1890, even in the depths of the Long Depression.

Why isn't there a racecourse in Henderson today, if they were doing so well? The major reason could be Avondale, and the consortium based around Moss Davis' new Avondale Hotel who decided to convert Charles Burke's former raupo swamp farm into the start of a first-class racecourse. The first meeting was in 1890, and soon after the crowds at Henderson began to dwindle. Then again, the Auckland Star felt that Henderson's facilities were "as primitive as when the Club started racing," and wondered whether Henderson was simply just "a proprietary affair". By February 1891, Henderson's course was in the hands of mortgagors, and their meeting was held at Avondale. After March that year, nothing more seems to have been recorded of their meetings.

In 1901, a subdivision plan for the Oponuku Hamlet (later renamed Plumer Hamlet, just like the Avondale worker settlements, after a Boer War commander) showed the grandstand as a feature. After this date, though, it would have been demolished. Plumer Hamlet, by the way, was the only West Auckland hamlet to lose its original Maori name. Hetana Hamlet in New Lynn and Waari Hamlet in Sunnydale both retained their names. Why this is is not yet known.

A Lynfield trio

Occasionally, as well as writing pieces for Avondale's Spider's Web (and what crops up now and then in the Rosebank Roundabout), I have lately supplied small "filler" pieces to Blockhouse Bay's Newstalk. Here's three recently published there, on Lynfield.

Old place names in Lynfield

Settlement of the Lynfield area was sparse until around 50 years ago, but the area was still important enough to have coastal landmarks named. Around 1850, the Wesleyan Church obtained the Wesleyan Mission Property from the Crown (from Wattle Bay Reserve to Waikowhai Reserve) but the Crown retained Cape Horn as a defence reserve. Artillery Road (Cape Horn Road) is probably one of the first roads in the district, before even Hillsborough Road was formed. During the “Russian Invasion” scare of the mid 1880s, it was probably garrisoned for a time with one of Auckland’s local artillery units, keeping a look out in case the Russians sneaked into Manukau Harbour.

Place names in the district have changed over the years. Well, in many respects, they did a somewhat sideways shift along the coast.

Green Bay was once Karaka Bay. Blockhouse Bay (Sandy Bay, Flounder Bay and Lynfield Cove) was once Green Bay. Wattle Bay used to be Waikowhai Bay, and Waikowhai Bay used to be Wesley Bay.

Some names were to the point. The Wairaki Stream which still flows into Lynfield Cove was once Duck Creek.

The copper’s horse knew the way

Much of today’s Lynfield, fronting Hillsborough Road and between Lynfield Cove and Wattle Bay, was once Auckland Harbour Board endowment land from 1911 until subdivided from the 1960s. Small farms were leased, but some were later occupied by tenants once the farmers gave up on their dreams.

Shacks were built along Halsey Drive as time went on, first meant as living quarters for the settlers, but then rented out to whoever wanted them. This, according to stories passed down, included those continually getting into trouble with the police and the courts, and ordered to “go to the country” away from the city’s temptations. Country life, however, did not reform these men, apparently. The police never really lost touch with these misfits. The duty of contacting them so they could “assist the police with their enquiries” fell to the lot of one Constable McKenzie of Mt Albert. It is said the constable had to pay so many calls in the direction of Lynfield that his horse, once mounted, would immediately turn as of habit in the direction of Halsey Drive.

A memorial to Margaret Griffen

Griffen Park Road was originally Endowment Road then Griffen Road. The authorities decided to provide easier access to the Halsey Drive farmlets from the White Swan Road end. Griffen Park Road was the result. This cut out the steep and very rough incline that took the traveller up White Swan Road to the corner of Ridge (Hillsborough) Road, and also eliminated an equally rough and steep descent.

It also meant several blocks of land came onto the market. On one of them, Griffen Brothers (A.D. & J.B.) were able to work up a milk supply and strawberry growing business known for many years as Griffenville Farm.

On retirement, A D Griffen bought back his brothers property at the corner of White Swan and Griffen Road, along with an adjoining property The resulting 10½ acre block was given to the people of Mount Roskill as an athletic ground and playing area for the youth of the district, in tribute to the memory of A.D. Griffen’s late wife Margaret in the 1940s. This is now Margaret Griffen Memorial Park.

Captain Robert David James

Below, something I've loaded onto Scribd: concerning a footnote to both Mt Albert's and Avondale's history, Captain Robert David James. I'm still looking for further information, so watch for updates.

Fruit From the Scoria - Upload a Document to Scribd

Fossicking for facts: Mrs. Dorothy Davy

(Image from Western Leader, 28 June 1977)

I started gathering information of Avondale history back around 1983, when I was 20. That's probably why I have so many bits and pieces on my area's heritage, some on paper that I'm still in the process of filing, some that's only come in since the start of the flood of information brought on by my work on Heart of the Whau and the foundation of the Avondale-Waterview Historical Society, and some stuck in the corners of my own head. It's an interest, a hobby and a passion of mine to find out the answers to questions I have about why things are the way they are where I live and grew up.

One other person, judging from what the local newspapers of her time said about her, had that same level of interest. Which is why I consider Mrs. Dorothy Davy to be Avondale's first true historian, someone whose work I first read in the late 1980s, as I scoured through the vertical files at the Avondale Community Library.

Born c. 1894, Mrs Davy had come to live here in Avondale in 1920. Around 1939, she was a co-founder of the Avondale Country Women's Institute, and thirty years later entered a writing competition run by the Institute, around the theme of "The history of the district where the writer's institute stands." Mrs. Davy researched as extensively as she could, and won first prize. This led her to continue fossicking, picking up bits and pieces of knowledge of the past. According to the Western Leader in 1977: "Eight years later [after winning the competition] she is still seeking out facts and anecdotes of early Avondale. She has given talks on the district's history to Avondale school children [must have been after I left Avondale Primary in 1974, pity. I'd have loved to have heard her] and she is concerned that all her facts must be authentic. Mrs Davy finds there are conflicting reports about early Avondale. 'At first, I thought Dr Pollen cultivated the land but from later research I tend to disbelieve this,' she says. 'I want to know who turned Avondale from a wilderness into a garden, if he didn't.'"

Mrs. Davy wasn't just a historian -- she was also an artist, writer, a producer of plays, and a trained speech teacher. But to me, she remains someone I admire, and unfortunately never met. Someone who hunted for facts on our past, presented them to the community in both written form and by verbal presentation, and always strove for the truth. I recall speaking briefly to a daughter of hers back in 2001/2002 -- and learned then that Mrs Davy had only recently passed away, aged over 100 years old. I would have truly loved to have met her.

Borough's End

On the 17th of August, 1927, an angry Mayor of Avondale denounced the then-Borough as “the dirtiest suburb of all Auckland’s suburbs, the most bankrupt due to muddle on the part of past administrations. The engineer has admitted that he has never been allowed to complete any work. For five years I have fought their battles to get efficient administration. Some of the residents here have my deepest respect; others I would not touch with a forty-foot pole.”

At that Avondale Borough Council meeting the Mayor, Herbert Tiarks and three councillors resigned, leaving Avondale in an administrative crisis.

The issue was that of Avondale’s amalgamation with Auckland City, something which had been looked at since the start of the “Greater Auckland” concept earlier that century. In 1912, when it was proposed to abolish Road Boards, the Avondale Road Board declined to sign a protest petition, and instead wrote to Auckland’s Mayor Christopher Parr asking that he come to address Avondale’s ratepayers on the question of incorporation with the City. (Parr responded that he would give the matter thought, and asked for a copy of the Board’s last balance sheet. There, the matter rested.) In 1914, the Avondale Board started organising a petition to be sent to the Governor for Avondale to be constituted a borough. At the inquiry before a Royal Commission in 1915, 21 out of 30 ratepayers who attended opposed the borough proposal, and so the petition was declined. One of those chosen as a spokesperson for the opposition was Mr Edward E. Copsey, who was to feature prominently later in the 1920s.

In 1921, Avondale ratepayers petitioned Auckland City for amalgamation, but were turned down, the city council deciding that conditions were “too disproportionate” for such a union. In April 1922, Avondale was appointed a borough, and calls for amalgamation died down to a simmer. Auckland City’s decision was based not only on the fact that Avondale was a largely rural district, with areas without proper water reticulation, formed roads and footpaths, and a low rates base, but also because a surge in urbanisation was expected, and did happen to Avondale. For contrast: the Avondale in 1905, when W J Tait began his public service record in the district on the Roads Board, had a population of 500. This had swelled to 5000 by 1927 when he retired from office as Mayor.

Herbert Tiarks started his campaigns in 1922 against “financial mismanagement” on the part of the administrations of Avondale Mayors J. W Kinniburgh (1922-1923) and W. J Tait (1923-1927) and was a councillor from 1925. By April 1927, with Mayor Tait stepping down from office, dissatisfaction among ratepayers to do with road and footpath conditions, and alleged “irregularities” concerning tenders, Tiarks won the mayoral election by a majority of 714 votes over fellow councillor Paul Richardson. He told voters during his campaign that “he would give no promises with the exception of putting the financial affairs of the borough in order.”

Out-going Mayor Tait said in a newspaper interview prior to the election that amalgamation with Greater Auckland was “inevitable”, due to the newly concreted Great North Road, and easier access to the city. Indeed, almost immediately after the April poll Edward Copsey wrote to Auckland Mayor George Baildon asking if, in the mayor’s opinion, a majority of the council would be in favour of Avondale joining the city. The response Copsey received by the end of May was a “yes”, provided there was application by the Avondale Borough Council.

In June, the Tamaki Road Board and their ratepayers agreed to join Auckland City, and the Auckland Star reported Mayor Baildon as saying that “a number of ratepayers in the Avondale district had expressed a wish to join the city,” adding that “the matter has as yet been but briefly discussed, and it would be more fully gone into later on.” Things now became heated, despite the winter, in Avondale. In July, Mayor Tiarks complained about “scurrilous comments” made against him in the local News publication. By the 13th of July, over 800 residents had signed a petition started by the Citizen’s Amalgamation Committee (also known as Concerned Citizens Committee) and authored by Copsey, and at a borough council meeting on 20th July the by then 1151 signature petition was presented to the council. The date for the amalgamation poll was set for Saturday, 13 August.

A public meeting was held on 4 August at the Avondale Town Hall, where Tiarks and Councillor Pendlebury denounced Auckland City as having “failed to provide adequate transport …[and] proved incapable of handling the system. It had made the mistake of placing down a strip of concrete in the centre of the road from the Mental Hospital to Henderson, thus leaving no provision for future tramways extension.” Tiarks claimed that the City had mismanaged their affairs, avoiding bankruptcy only because it was a municipal corporation, and described the back streets of Pt. Chevalier, the latest of the amalgamations, as reminding him of “a clean shirt on a dirty back.” Auckland’s Mayor Baildon remarked on the comments that “I think the whole thing is very undignified, and the less notice we take of it the better.”

According to the wording of a petition presented to Council in 1933 by the Avondale Development Association, Mayor Baildon and city councillors visited Avondale to speak to the ratepayers. This may have been at a reported meeting on 10 August. They presented the affirmative case for incorporation with Auckland, promising proper footpaths along roads and streets leading to Rosebank Road, and attention to the shoulders of Rosebank Road. Copsey made a speech promoting amalgamation, and earned hearty applause.

A letter to the editor of the Star summarised the situation which had led to the formation of the Copsey’s Citizen’s Amalgamation Committee: Tiarks had promised a reduction in the cost of borough administration, but instead increased the consolidated rate by 2d in the £, doubling the rates from what they were in 1924. Ratepayers in Waterview and Blockhouse Bay claimed they didn’t receive a fair proportion of street improvements, pointing to the central area as being looked after first.

On 13 August 1927, by a margin of 707 votes, in the largest poll undertaken to that date in Avondale, the ratepayers chose to amalgamate with Auckland City. Avondale was to join Auckland on 31 March 1928. However, events were speeded up rapidly by what happened next.

Rumours swept the district that something sensational was going to happen at the next borough council meeting, and so the chamber at the Town Hall was packed on 17 August. The rumours were correct. Mayor Tiarks and councillors Pendlebury, Reisterer and Edmiston resigned from the Council, plunging Avondale into an administrative crisis. With only six councillors remaining and no mayor, with one councillor overseas and another in hospital with pneumonia, the Borough Council had no quorum and could not function. Even staff wages were at risk, with the remaining councillors having to give their personal bond to the bank until the account could be passed. The New Zealand Herald described the actions of those who had resigned as “childish” and “an expression of personal pique”.

Tiarks had declared that the poll result had been “a decided vote of no-confidence in the ability of the council” to manage the borough’s affairs, and “I have come to the conclusion that I cannot possibly retain the mayoral chair and my self-respect at the same time. As the one is a matter of indifference to me and the other is of paramount importance, I am tendering my resignation.” Accusing the Amalgamation committee of lack of courtesy and consideration to the council, he said that he felt the amalgamation could have been achieved at the end of the financial year (by this, I take it that he would have preferred a poll to have happened after April 1928). Yet Tiarks in another report is said to have stated he expected it would have been better if amalgamation hadn’t taken place until after April 1929. Councillor Reisterer claimed that the Council hadn’t had a fair chance, but was still keen to go for election as Mayor; Councillor Edmiston accused the other councillors of disloyalty to Tiarks (there was mention at the meeting of a “gentleman’s agreement” which apparently wasn’t honoured, possibly for all of the council to resign with Tiarks); and Councillor Pendlebury waved a pamphlet (apparently distributed by the Amalgamation Committee) in his hand, claiming that was a “deliberate lie”, and announced his loyalty to Tiarks “to the very end.”

A scandal emerged the next day, when the borough engineer reported that Tiarks and Pendlebury had authorised work on the formation and blinding of Gilfillan Street on July 29, after the date for the poll had been announced, instructing the engineer not to report this work to the rest of the borough councillors. Only £200 had been raised in loans for the work, but Tiarks and Pendlebury authorised the full cost of £600. Gilfillan Street was near the home address for Mayor Tiarks. The four councillors remaining ordered a stop to the work, as the road was in a “reasonably passable condition.”

The remaining members of the council were faced with a dilemma. With no quorum, a bi-election for the vacancies seemed inevitable. They appealed to Auckland to bring the date of amalgamation forward to 1 October or earlier, then realised that amalgamation needed to be by 1 September to avoid an election. After one failed meeting at the Auckland Hospital, the councillors finally met around the bedside of Councillor Manning on 23 August, and again on the 24th, nominating Edward Copsey as Mayor, along with P Turner, P Adams and G. R. Desmond (members of the Amalgamation Committee) as councillors. A formal petition to the Governor-General for amalgamation was signed by Councillor Manning from his sickbed. The Governor-General confirmed the appointments of Copsey and the three others to the Avondale Borough Council, and so Edward Copsey became (for a few days), the last Mayor of Avondale. The last meeting took place on 31 August, and on 1 September the amalgamation came into effect.

Edward Copsey, H Potter and J W Kealy were appointed as City Councillors, serving until April 1929. Paul Richardson, who was defeated by Tiarks in the last borough election for mayor, went on to be president of the Avondale Development Association in the early 1930s, a group which lobbied Auckland City for more works to be done in the district. Nothing further is known about Herbert Tiarks after his resignation as Mayor of Avondale, but he did for a time have offices in the Ferry Building in the city, and donated a baptismal font to St Saviour's Church in Blockhouse Bay, in memory of his daughter Dorothy.

Sources: Auckland Star, NZ Herald, Avondale Borough Council minutes, Auckland City Council archives, and Decently and in Order by GWA Bush (1971).

When Trams Came to Avondale

(Image above: Tram 248, 1938 "Streamliner", at MOTAT 2 tram terminus, Western Springs, 14 July 2007. Notes below.)

On the early Saturday afternoon of the first day of February 1932, at 2.15 pm, the first of two special trams completed the inaugural trip along the final stretch of line from Mt Albert to Avondale, the first bearing dignitaries, the second members of the public. Local residents packed what was then Brown Street (now Rosebank Road above Great North Road), the Auckland Municipal Band played the National Anthem and other selections throughout the afternoon on an adjacent vacant lot (possibly close to the site of the WINZ offices today), and a ribbon held across the track by Mrs. P. Richardson and Miss Johnson was cut by the wife of the tramways manager, Mrs. Allum. The Mayor of Mt Albert, Mr W. F. Stillwell, expressed his appreciation to the Auckland Transport Board in extending the trams to Avondale, and Arthur Morrish (editor/publisher of the News in Avondale, and representing the Avondale Development Association) congratulated all on their work. Residents enjoyed rides on the special service that day between Avondale and Mt Albert all afternoon.

The Auckland Transport Board said they aimed to provide a 16-minute service, with 10-minutes during rush hour, and more frequent services as need warranted. The present-day stage boundary at Mt Albert shops comes from that day the trams came finally to Avondale, the section boundary shifting from Ennismore Road, making the journey to the City from Richardson Road to the City three sections instead of two.

The tramline to Avondale was a long time in coming. Nearly 29 years, in fact. What was to be the line reached Kingsland along New North Road by May 1903 (7 months after the introduction of electric trams on the 4’8½” gauge), Morningside by July 1912, Mount Albert by September 1915, and finally Avondale, 1932. It was only after control on the tramways was taken from Auckland City Council and passed onto the Auckland Transport Board in January 1929 that progress toward extending the line to Avondale was made. Up to that time, Avondale was not seen as economically viable to sustain the passenger numbers required to have the line terminate in the shopping centre. However, the tram was soon well-utilised by racegoers and the general public. Later in 1932, the Unity Building was erected in that part of Avondale and, together with the Post Office building from 1938, helped change the focus of the Town Centre itself.

Some further excitement came to Avondale when, one day, the tram failed to stop at the end of the tracks and, with the gradient of Station Hill adding impetus, shot down through the intersection with Great North Road, gouging deep furrows in the road as it went. According to local residents around at the time, the Transport Board put in preventive measures by digging a trench at the end of the line, covered by a wooden board that was designed to give way and therefore impede the forward progress of any future runaway trams.

Right from the start, though, trams were seen by transport planners as a short to medium term solution. In 1932, an electric train system was seen as a viable alternative to maintain connections between the City and the suburbs, as well as “trackless trams” (trolley buses) and diesel buses.

Trams after World War II, though, were doomed for other reasons. They were considered obsolete, a symbol of “old fashioned days” as the 1950s dawned, a part of Edwardian New Zealand that had no place in the modern post-war world. Their track-bound progress through city streets conflicted more and more with the pressing traffic flow needs of a burgeoning number of private motor cars. They were simply too old, and too inflexible, to continue.

For Avondale’s tramline, it was decreed that Friday, January 13 1956, “Black Friday”, would be the day the last tram would leave the bottom of steep Station Hill in the township. A turning circle for trolley buses was built opposite the old Methodist Church (part of the circle can still be seen, as a carpark). More than 5500 circulars were distributed by the Transport Board advising residents of the new bus service that was to replace the trams, along with new signs on the route. The greatest concern at the time concerning a smooth transition was that there was a race meeting on at Avondale that weekend. However, no problems were reported, with buses handling all the race traffic.

The last tram to run to Avondale from the City left at 11.30 pm, while a crowd waited in Avondale for its arrival and ultimate departure. Compared with the celebrations back in 1932, the farewell in 1956 was to an old example of the dwindling fleet. “We are sending an old tram because we would not like a newer one to be smashed about,” said a Transport Board spokesman. “In the past, quite a bit of damage has been done by over-enthusiastic crowds.”

And so, in the early hours of 14 January 1956, Avondale’s last tram left Rosebank Road, heading back up the route that had taken three decades to complete, and only three decades on which trams would run, disappearing into history. On December 29 that year, the last tram left Onehunga, and an era was at an end.

(Notes on the 248 "Streamliner" image above: Last type of Auckland tram, built by the Auckland Transport Board at the Manukau Road Workshops. No 248 was restored and painted the 1938 livery by MOTAT in 1980. Continues to run in regular museum service. Source: MOTAT brochure on trams and tramway equipment in their collection.)

The Overseas Clubs, 1915

Tracking down information on what lies behind this certificate is difficult -- not a lot has been done with regard to research into this aspect of the once ubiquitous Empire Day celebrations, each May 24th, right across the British Empire, and in New Zealand from 1903.

The Overseas Club appears to have formed c.1915 to collect funds to go towards comforts for soldiers serving overseas during World War I. This site mentions Sidney Ward as the creator of the certificates, but nothing more is known about him at this time.

I bought the above certificate, originally presented to Maud Beresford, as well as another presented originally to Nellie Beresford (perhaps sisters?), today at the Blockhouse Bay Community Centre market. They didn't cost much to buy at all, a fraction of what some places online are asking for. I bought them because Empire Day is a bit of a side interest of mine -- and because back in 1915, these would have been proudly held by two members of a family named Beresford. Two people I haven't a hope of tracing, or knowing even if they were in New Zealand at the time they received these.

St Ninians Cemetery -- the forgotten third historical cemetery on the Auckland City isthmus

Auckland City Council have a web page about their cemeteries here.

Since June this year, via emails and phone calls, I've been trying to convince Auckland City Council to add the St Ninians Cemetery to their list of historical (that is, no longer open for use) cemeteries. To the date of this post, I've had no luck. Now, there have been Council staff who have tried to help along the way. They don't see any reason why the cemetery beside the old 1860 church building, on St Georges Road here in Avondale, shouldn't be on the list. But others simply haven't contacted me to tell me why they still have not amended their web page.

Is it historical?
Yes -- the earliest burial was in July 1873, for Rev. David Hamilton who died from exposure and drowning in the Waitakere Ranges on his way to Presbyterian services in Huia and Whatipu. The latest burial was in 1974, according to the Society of Genealogists. It is Avondale's second cemetery after that at Rosebank (first burial there in 1862, and that one is still operational as the George Maxwell Memorial Cemetery, administered by the St Jude's Church Vestry.)

Is it owned by Auckland City Council?
Yes -- since the late 1980s, when the Council took over St Ninians Church, it also took over the churchyard and cemetery. Apart from some nasty prickly stuff swamping one of the graves in a far corner, it's kept very neat and tidy by Council maintenance staff. The lawns are mowed regularly.

So why isn't it on the website?
I haven't the foggiest idea. Maybe someone just thought it was parkland, not a cemetery, or maybe it just didn't have a high profile. But considering some of the names buried there:

Jessie Eva Hort Huxham MacKenzie, the famed "Danish Princess" of considerable fame, including a bit of the television programme Epitaph, and her husband Rev. Alexander MacKenzie, who created the legend,
Members of the Heron family, connected with workers at the Glenburn brickyard,
Members of the Ingram family, who donated the Ingram Memorial windows to St Ninians (at the moment, safe at the Nafanua Church on Rosebank Road),
Re. David Hamilton, as mentioned,
and John Neale Bethell, of Bethells Beach/Te Henga ...

I don't think it's too much to ask to have this formerly country cemetery, now looked after by Auckland City, to be included on their website.

Hopefully, some time soon, I'll be able to advise success and declare this post out of date.

Update: Success!

Ohinemuri Regional Heritage

I've just come across a heritage website for the Ohinemuri area. Looks like it is well worth a bit of a browse, with their historical journals going back to the late 1960s both online and searchable.

Prayers and Protest: the Cadman Estate in Waterview

(Image from Land Information New Zealand)

At the northern-most extremity of Robert Chisholm’s sheep farm estate, his trustees sold Lots 73 and 74 to Auckland merchant Charles Major. Major, as happened often in those days, protected his asset by transferring it to his wife Hannah’s name in October 1882. Soon after this, Hannah is said to have donated the tiny 26 rood north-east corner to members of the local Wesleyan Methodist parish. The men who formally applied their names to the title for that small nibble of land on Christmas Eve 1885 were:

George Thomas, storekeeper of Avondale (brother of John Thomas, the builder of the first Star Mill, and the last to operate the second mill with his nephew, also named John),
Charles Wheeler Parsons, an expressman from Waterview,
George Rout, a butcher from Auckland,
William Porteous, a “hop beer manufacturer” from Auckland,
Thomas Cater, a farmer from Hobsonville,
and Jabez Whitcombe, an Auckland bootmaker.

According to the history of the Waterview Methodist Church, the first purpose-built church was built upon this land by voluntary labour in 1883, replaced only when a larger church was built in 1910, after a larger chunk of land was obtained by the church trustees from Hannah Major in 1898. This latter building is the landmark we see today along Great North Road, the “Waterview Straight”.

In that year of 1898, Hannah Major sold the remainder of her property to Alfred Jerome Cadman.

Just to the south, one of Robert Chisholm’s daughters in Wellington, Mary Alexandrina Finlayson Chisholm, received title to Lot 72, adjoining the Major’s purchase. This land she transferred to her sister, Wilhelmina Tait Jack, also living in Wellington at the time, in 1899. Four years later, perhaps without even sighting her purchase, Mrs. Jack sold the property to Alfred Jerome Cadman.

Alfred Jerome Cadman (1847-1905) was born in Sydney, and arrived in Auckland as an infant. Settling in the Coromandel as a young man, he engaged successfully in sawmilling. He began his political career as a member of the Tiki Highway Board, and in 1881 he was elected as MHR for Coromandel. He became minister for the Crown in 1891 with the portfolio of Stamp Duties in the Balance Administration – followed by the portfolios of Native Affairs, Mines and Railways. He was called to the Legislative Council in 1899 (this at the time of the first of his Waterview purchases). He received the CMG in 1901, and was made Knight Commander of the Order of St Michael and St George in 1903. He died at his Waterview home, the second of his homes called “Karamea” (the other was in the Coromandel).

The Cadman Estate remained as mostly open ground, leased out to dairy farmers and, more notoriously, came under the spotlight in 1914 as the scene of anti-nightsoil protests in 1914.

In 1924, a land development consortium named T. M. Burke Land Investment “A” Company Limited combined the estate with an extra piece alongside facing Browne Street (now Fir Street), and carved out new streets as well: Hillcrest (now Hadfield Avenue), and the start of Fairlands Avenue (originally simply running into Hillcrest, before it was extended later on towards the sea) – and most of present-day Cadman Avenue, named for the estate, and in a way Sir Alfred Jerome Cadman himself. The Waterview Methodist Church was suddenly no longer almost completely alone in a sea of English grass and cows.

Heron Park

Today, Heron Park comprises most of what was once Lots 70 and 71 of the Rosebank Estate sale of 1882, part of Robert Chisholm’s sheep farm. Along with Lots 69 and 68 (Saltaire Street and Glendon Ave), these sections totaling 50 acres between Great North Road and the muddy coast now part of Motu Manawa Reserve were purchased by the Gittos family: Benjamin, John and James. Perhaps this area, with fresh water creeks and access to the harbour, may have been in their mind as a replacement site for their existing tannery at the corner of New North and Blockhouse Bay Roads, straddling the border across the Oakley Creek between Avondale and Mt Albert road districts. (They had been in trouble for some years with their Mt Albert farmer neighbours over water pollution issues from the works). We may never know – the Gittos tannery, after Benjamin’s death, shifted to “Bridgnorth” at Richmond by 1886. The land at Lots 68-71 may have helped to finance the shift to Richmond; a mortgage was taken out with one William Thomas Fairburn of London. He later obtained title through default of this mortgage in 1890, as the Gittos tannery business went into bankruptcy.

Ten years later in 1900, Fairburn liquidated his asset, selling Lot 70 to Walter Frederick Mason, and Lot 71 to John Potter.

John Potter was a blacksmith (he lived in the Larch Street area off Great North Road), a chairman of the Avondale Road Board, and involved in purchases of land in that vicinity (he also bought the site of today’s Lions Hall across the road). To him, Lot 71 was likely just an investment. He sold it in 1904 to a market gardener named Frederick Walker. Ultimately, much of the land in this section fronting onto Great North Road was first taken for better utilization purposes (railway) in 1966, and then transferred to the Housing Corporation for state housing in the Cadman Avenue area in 1977, and so this portion is not part of today’s Heron Park. The remainder, leading down to the harbour, also designated under railway purposes in the 1950s and 1960s, was transferred to Auckland City Council in 1988-1989.

Walter Frederick Mason was a clerk living in Mt Albert. The Mason family retained title of most of the land until 1930. The pattern here was similar to that with John Potter’s land – subdivided, a number of private owners over the course of the first half of the 20th century, then consolidation as the land was taken for railway purposes, and finally transferred to Auckland City Council in 1988-1989.

Heron Park today would almost form a complete area of reserve and possible walkway at least to the reserve at the end of Fairlands Avenue, via a former landing reserve area, except for one section still in private ownership at 48 Fairlands Avenue. As it is, the draft management plan for the park gave the area as just over 10 hectares.

Why was the park taken for railway purposes? Up until the 1970s, a plan was on the drawing board to link the Avondale railway station with industrial development and a possible container port at Pollen Island (Motu Manawa). Immense reclamation was even considered by Auckland City Council in the latter decade, before the bubble essentially popped, and the idea of a Rosebank rail link died. The Crown transferred their holdings along the peninsula either to private owners in the industrial area, state housing (Eastdale Road), or to the City Council (Heron Park). If it hadn’t been for that idea to turn Pollen Island into another industrial hub of activity, though, it is likely Heron Park, with its rolling landscape and relatively quiet hush close to the coast (where even the motorway noise is muted) wouldn’t exist.

Why "Heron Park"? Not after a person, but after the herons said to visit there from time to time.

Arthur Morrish - Newspaper man

The rather scholarly and kindly faced man in the photograph (courtesy of descendants of Mr and Mrs Morrish) was one of early 20th century Avondale’s settlers and prominent citizens. Just before World War I, he started something new to the district and even to the rest of West Auckland up to that time: a local newspaper.

Sometime in 1913-14, Arthur John Morrish (1869-1949) printed the first issue of his weekly publication for Avondale, New Lynn, Waikumete, Henderson, and Swanson, called simply The News. Copies of The News are very rare today, and even photocopies of his work are much sought after these days. If you pop into the Avondale Community Library, you’ll see some photocopies of his pioneer newspaper. No one knows exactly when the newspaper ceased publication, but Arthur Morrish died in 1949, aged 80.

Arthur’s parents had married in Tiverton, Devon in 1869, then moved to London where Arthur was born. The family returned to Tiverton, and Arthur’s father Samuel died there. Like his father, Arthur wasn’t robust in health, he was actually described as being delicate, but he possessed a happy disposition. He had been originally apprenticed to the printing trade in England, working at The Gazette in Tiverton. He emigrated from Devon in 1894 when he was 25, married Adelaide Annie Rayner (whom he’d first met in Derby) and settled in Princess Street (Elm St), where he set up his business before shifting first to Great North Road (just down from the 1938 Post Office), and then to Rosebank Road.

His wife Adelaide Annie Morrish (c.1871-1941) ran her own business in Rosebank Road alongside her husband’s printing works. Arthur Morrish was also a member of the Avondale Primary school committee during the 1920s-1930s, and was a spokesman for a local residents’ committee backing the choice of Pollen Island as an airport from 1929-1932 (the Auckland City Council, by late 1932, decided Pollen Island was unsuitable). Some say Arthur Morrish was the one who suggested that Garnet Road in Avondale be renamed Tiverton Road, in honour of his family’s town of origin back in England.

After Arthur Morrish and his News came the Avondale Advance in the late 1940s-1950s, which in turn went into the start of the Western Leader we know today. But both the Western Leader and our own Spider’s Web owe a debt to the vision of a pioneering, and largely forgotten, newspaperman from Tiverton in Devon, from over 90 years ago.

HMS Orpheus

(Image from a photocopy of photograph, West Auckland Historical Society, 13 October 2008)

The above is said to be a photograph of the HMS Orpheus, with the following inscribed on the back (along with the curious little drawing above, and the intials "JNB"):

"HMS Orpheus, off Admiralty House, Kiribilli Point. Garden Island in background. Sydney Harbour 1863. 189 people died."

If this truly is a photograph of the HMS Orpeus, it is an amazing and extremely rare image. West Auckland Historical Society, I understand, are intending to lodge the original with the Huia Museum. "JNB" and the little drawing, are attributef to John Neale Bethell (1856-1943). He died at his Avondale home along Great North Road, close to the Whau Bridge, and is buried at St Ninian's Cemetery on St George's Road.

Further information on the Orpheus disaster from the New Zealand Electronic Text Centre:

The Wreck of H.M.S. “Orpheus”

H.M.S. “Orpheus,” a 21-gun steam-corvette, manned by a crew of 256 officers and men, was totally wrecked on the Manukau bar on the 7th February, 1863, when bound to Onehunga from Sydney to take up duty on the New Zealand Station.

The pilot-station at the heads showed the signal to take the bar, and the “Orpheus” came in under steam and sail before a good westerly breeze. The ship was carrying all plain sail, and her starboard foretopmast studding. sail was set. She was drawing 21 feet. She struck heavily on the western end of the middle bank, which afterwards was proved to have shifted three-quarters of a mile from where it was laid down on Drury's chart; the navigation officers of the “Orpheus,” however, had also the “Niger” navigator's sailing-directions. The pilot-station watcher, seeing the ship running into danger, semaphored to her to stand more out to sea, but the warning signal was observed too late.

The ship struck twice, and the engines were ordered full speed astern, but the screw did not work; the way the ship had on sent her firmly into the sand.

The topsails were lowered, and the other sails were clewed up. Great seas were now breaking over the ship, and, after one boat had with difficulty got clear, the crew all took to the yards and rigging. The steamer “Wonga Wonga,” bound south from Onehunga, went to the rescue, and approached the wreck as closely as she could. Some of the bluejackets, sliding down the foretopmast-stay, jumped into the sea and were picked up; others who attempted it were drowned.

The one boat which got clear took the news to the pilot-station, but it was night before the tragic story reached H.M.S. “Harrier,” lying at Onehunga, twenty miles away, and by that time all was over.

The rollers breaking on the bar burst continually over the hull and lower masts. The yards and shrouds were thick with sailors despairingly looking for rescue. About 6 o'clock in the evening Commodore Burnett, who was in the mizzen-rigging, hailed the men, asked them to pray to God, and said he would be the last to leave the ship.

The mainmast was the first to go over the side. As it was falling the men clinging to the yards and rigging gave three heart-rending farewell cheers, which were answered by the men on the other masts, and next moment the gallant sailors were vainly struggling for their lives. The foremast soon followed, and then the mizzenmast gave way and crashed into the surf. The mizzentop fell on Commodore Burnett and partly stunned him, and he was drowned.

Out of the crew of 256 all told, only sixty-nine (including eight officers) were saved.

The bar which proved fatal to the beautiful corvette “Orpheus” and the greater number of her crew is called by the Maoris “Te Kupenga o Tara-mai-nuku” (“Tara's Fishing-net”), a reference to an ancestral chief whose name is associated with several places on the Auckland coast. Another native name for it is “Te Whare o te Atua” (“The Dwelling of the God”). The sandbanks are the northern remnant of a strip of low-lying land called Paorae, which anciently extended outside the present coast-line from the Manukau southward to Waikato Heads.

The “inherently rotten” Whau Bridges (1855-1930)

(Image from NZ Building Record, 18 November 1925, p. 3)

The Whau Bridge portion of the Great North Road has been an important, if somewhat fragile, link with the West and the North for half the time there has been a bridge there. I imagine, before the Provincial Road Surveyor G. O. Ormsby set out the plans and advertised for tenders in August 1855 that the only way to cross the Whau River was to ford it — and most likely, watch carefully for the tides. That first wooden bridge didn’t last very long, apparently, before things were noticeably awry. Mr Cadman, a member of the Auckland Provincial Council, moved in February 1860 that the Government be requested to make necessary repairs to the bridge as soon as possible. Dr. Pollen, another member, pointed out that the bridge hadn’t been up all that long. He wasn’t aware of any great traffic over the bridge that would have worn it so, and “could not account for it otherwise than by its own inherent rottenness.” After much discussion, Cadman withdrew his motion, and nothing was done.

The “frightfully dilapidated and dangerous” bridge was finally demolished on 1870, and replaced by another made from best kauri timber, 175ft long, 14ft wide, with 16 inch piles driven into the river bed 25ft away from each other. Charles Dundas and James Reyburn were the contractors, but later sustained financial losses over the project. At this point, the approaches on either side were cut down, metalled, and part of the Avondale side of Great North Road realigned to meet the new bridge.

By 1902, the bridge was under the jurisdiction of the Waitemata County Council — and was already the worse for wear. The Avondale Road Board were well aware that this second bridge needed to be replaced, and had received an estimate from the Council for their share of about £100. A third bridge was constructed around 1907 — and by 1916 required repairs. At that point, the bridge was too unstable to bear the weight of a traction engine, but it carried more traffic than any other bridge in the county. The county councillors knew that if they didn’t do something soon, the matter of replacing the bridge with a ferro-concrete one would be taken over by the contributing bodies, such as the Avondale and New Lynn boards, and Auckland City Council. However, they deferred any decision until after the war.

Come 1920, and the proposal for the new ferro-concrete Whau Bridge was on the discussion tables again. Avondale objected to the proposed width of 40ft, saying it should be 50ft, and sent a letter to the Public Works Department objecting to the County Council’s proposal. By 1921, a conference of local bodies engineers recommended that instead of concrete, the bridge should be “a wooden structure in mixed Australian hardwoods,” or simply just repaired, mainly due to cost and the fact that the Waterways Commission at the time were considering (again!) a Whau Canal scheme. This did not go down well with the County Council. Their engineer, G. A. Jackson, pronounced the bridge as “quite safe for four-ton loads”, even though notices had been posted warning against using the bridge. This meant that a charabanc full of passengers had to stop at the bridge, unload everyone bar the driver, who would then drive across the bridge with the passengers walking behind, then reload everyone to continue the journey.

The repairs were made to the bridge in 1922, in the hope of extending its life by another ten years or so. By 1929, however, the AA’s president Mr. Grayson had lost patience. “The Whau Bridge, as a means of approach to the city, still seems to cause a lot of trouble. It is a very dangerous place indeed. I do not know what is wrong with the Whau Creek or whether there is a taniwha in it bigger than that at Arapuni. The Auckland Transport Board will not go beyond it. It is so dangerous that the local authorities have to place a traffic inspector there over the weekends when traffic is a little above normal.” The Main Highways Board had been the body in charge of the bridge up until then — now, with Avondale part of Auckland City and New Lynn a borough in its own right, things changed. A squabble broke out as to how to apportion costs of the now very necessary replacement, and a government commission was held in 1930 to try to sort it all out.

The Main Highways Board drew up the plans for the fourth, concrete, bridge — and even in 1930, the hoped-for Whau Canal influenced the layout, the Harbour Board insisting that it be placed at an angle, so as to accommodate any future development. It was proposed that Auckland City pay 40%, New Lynn 25%, Waitemata County 11.5%, Glen Eden 7%, Henderson 11%, Mt Albert 2.5%, Mt Eden and Helensville 1.5% of the cost.

Work finally began at the end of 1930, the contractor being J. Turner and the cost £6310. By September 1931, half the bridge had been completed enough to be opened to traffic, and the old 1907 bridge was removed.

Baptist Church archives

I discovered, the other day, the Baptist Church archives. They're part of the Carey Baptist College on Great South Road in Penrose (easy bus transport to the facility), and the archive has a searchable database online. I thoroughly recommended contacting them with your queries regarding any aspect of Baptist church history.

Chisholm's swamp?

I wrote in this earlier post how it appeared that Chisholm and Alfred Buckland had a business relationship, at least as far as farm stock was concerned. Well, today while continuing with a wee project of mine at Land Information NZ (taking a photographic record of land info for the Parish of Titirangi -- which includes Avondale and Waterview) I spotted Chisholm's name on a land title index for Alloments 89, 90, 91 and 92 (217 acres total), which he sold by mortgage to Alfred Buckland in September 1858 for £400. This is a tad confusing, as Buckland was the one listed as having the original Crown Grant over the land. In March 1863, it all came to a conclusion, confusing or not: William Greenwood from Matakana had purchased equity of redemption over one of the mortgages that appeared on the deeds index between 1858 and then, and so claimed title from Robert Chisholm, who duly conveyed it. The Greenwood family were to own the land until 1895.

Trouble was -- these allotments were right next to and downstream from what is now present-day Winstone Reserve at Mount Roskill, one of the volcanoes (the others are the Three Kings set of volcanoes) which give rise to Auckland's longest waterway flowing completely within the boundaries of the modern city: Oakley Creek. Only, in Chisholm's time, and even down to the early 20th century, much of his lands there (between Richardson Road, May Road and Stoddard Road) would have been Oakley Swamp rather than the tamed, channelled waterway it is in that area today. So how on earth did Buckland, Chisholm and even Greenwood hope to profit from this? Perhaps, some swamp drainage was hoped for. Hard to say this far away from when all the deals were going down.

Of course, just out of interest, this is also the area where State Highway 20 today is being built, right through almost the middle of those allotments.

I'd also, in this update, like to thank Audrey Barney very much for her email to me today. I sent her a link for the original post, and she responded reminding me to add that our puzzling, most enigmatic Robert Chisholm, a "flesher" in Edinburgh (literally, "a cutter up of meat", as Audrey says), somehow managed to raise a family, retire with money, sail to Australasia, and engage in the land schemes he did with capital from who-knows-where ... and lied, as well, about his age on the passenger list (he stated he was 46, when in reality he was 57 at the time).

One thing is certain: the more that is discovered about Robert Chisholm (even a hint of familial connection with Sir Walter Scott!) -- the more questions inevitably arise.

The enigma of Robert Chisholm

Image of Chisholm's estate, from LINZ records.

Updated 15 July 2016

In April 1874, a “rather large and handsome” imposing house burned to the ground. The owner, Robert Chisholm (1797-1877) and his manservant John Turnbull saw the blaze as they worked in a nearby paddock, somewhere close to the site of today’s Heron Park, but were only able to save some blankets, the fire spread so quickly. The fire was a puzzling one, in more than one respect. Some of his best furniture, including a piano, had already been removed a week before. Newspapers reported that the back door had been locked – something unusual for the rural area that was Avondale. The Southern Cross advised that “only a few of the neighbours went near to offer any assistance, Mr. Chisholm, unfortunately, not being a general favourite in the district.” This was most unusual for 19th century Avondale, a district where neighbours usually came readily to help whenever a calamity occurred.

It seems likely, however, no matter what a section of Avondale’s sparse population thought of him at the time, that his 300 acre estate would have been the enduring inspiration behind today’s name for what was once Avondale’s agricultural, now industrial centre.

Much that is known about the enigmatic Mr. Chisholm comes from the research by the historian for Clan Chisholm, Audrey Barney. He was born in Melrose, Scotland, in 1797, and moved north to Edinburgh as a young man, marrying there and taking up the occupation of flesher. By 1851 he had his own business and a household servant – and two years later the family made their plans to move to Australasia. They sailed from Greenock in May 1854, and arrived in Melbourne, stayed four months, then journeyed from Sydney to Auckland, leaving two of the daughters behind (most likely with relatives).

Purchases of land at the Whau were completed almost immediately. Allotments 6 & 7 on the Whau Flat peninsula was bought by Chisholm in November 1855; part of Allotment 5 in 1858. (Another part, breaking up the continuity of Chisholm’s estate, would come to be owned by Daniel Pollen from 1868, then potter James Wright in 1872 until 1879, and then eventually by Enoch Althorpe. This was possibly because the eastern half of Allotment 5 was the closest point to the shellbanks of Traherne Island across the mangroves.) Chisholm’s purchases of the area near Heron Park were made in 1861 (Allotments 14 and 15). Robert Chisholm took out a number of mortgages on these farms, as his over 383 acre landholding came together – but also gave Dr Thomas Aickin finance for part of the Aickin farm across the road on the peninsula in 1865. A portion of Allotment 62, across the Great North Road from the Heron Park area (close to today’s Lions Hall site) was also bought by Chisholm in September 1865 (DI 13A.571). So, from 1855 to around 1868, Chisholm slowly developed into becoming a landholder of some note in the Whau district. But, all this time, he actually lived in Parnell, at what is now 4 Burrows Avenue, a grand two-storey gentleman’s residence which still stands, surrounded then by a substantial estate called Hope Park.

The earliest sign that he had a connection with the community at the Whau over to the west comes in March 1867, when his name appeared on a public notice along with those of John Bollard, O. A. Rayson, Thomas Aickin, William Motion and John McLeod regarding a £25 reward for information leading to the apprehension of a blighter killing their sheep and carrying away the carcases). Come October 1868, and Chisholm put his name up as one of the first trustees for the new Whau Highway District: a short-lived term of office, however, as he was struck off the Board in 1869 for refusal to pay rates. By July, he appeared to have either sheep or connections with livestock merchant Alfred Buckland at “Windsor Park” (the only farm by this name at that time I have found was in Waiuku, the property of an E. Constable). Chisholm, though, seemed to have connections, and to have been in the livestock business in a big way.

Chisholm’s residency at Parnell , according to Audrey Barney, seems to have finally come to an end around 1870. His Whau homestead may have been built c.1868, but probably served as a country house until Chisholm made the final move from Burrows Avenue. At his Whau estate in May 1874, Sir James Fergusson, the Governor of the colony, along with Sir Charles Du Cane, Governor of Tasmania, along with “four other gentlemen, shot over the grounds of Mr. Chisholm on Saturday last, and met with very good sport. The party afterwards proceeded to Dr. Pollen’s ground.” Hopefully, the sheep moved out of the way.

By the time Chisholm died, though, it appears his wife had been living down south for a considerable time; she was not referred to in his will. Chisholm was buried in the Presbyterian section of the Symonds Street cemetery, undisturbed therefore by the carving of the motorway through the cemetery in the late 20th century. His son John William Chisholm joined him there in 1881, while his wife Isabella died in Wellington in 1887.

According to Audrey, in Chisholm’s will, “he turned over all his affairs to a group of eleven executors, who were the Manager of the Bank of New Zealand, two Insurance Managers, three Presbyterian ministers, a farmer, another banker, and John Logan Campbell.” They were required to liquidate his shares and assets (other than his Whau holdings) and invest the proceeds, and to lease the Whau farm out for 25 years, investing the income “wisely”, and only at the end of that period sell the land at public auction. At the end, everything was then to be divided up among his living children and grandchildren.

Twenty-five years would have meant a grand sale of the 383 acres at the Whau in 1902; instead, the two remaining Trustees in 1882, banker John Murray and insurance manager George Pierce, broke the trust and arranged Chisholm’s estate into town and country allotments, dubbing it “Rosebank Estate”. This appears to be the earliest known use of the name “Rosebank” in terms of the peninsula, and is likely to be the reason why the road, which wound along the boundary of the estate, has the name today. (An earlier “Rosebank”, the house of John Buchanan in the late 1860s, was in reality just off St Georges Road). Perhaps they’d made a deal with Chisholm’s family to cash out the trust and take advantage of the speculative trend of the time to sell off the larger estates ringing the young city of Auckland, just before the coming bite of the Long Depression. Nothing is known for certain, however, as to what transpired. Avondale’s story, however, may have been somewhat different had the trustees waited until 1902.

This post updated here.

NZ Federation of Historical Societies

A new site has been launched, this one for the New Zealand Federation of Historical Societies. The Avondale-Waterview Historical Society has belonged to the Federation since 2003, and at the moment I'm on the executive committee, edit and produce their newsletter Keeping In Touch, and co-edit New Zealand Legacy.

"Memories from the Great War"

Interesting article on Gallipoli and its effects on both Australia and New Zealand published today in the NZ Herald.

"It is the stories of the wives and mothers of "boys" who perished on the battlefields of Europe that bring a catch to Professor Bruce Scates' voice. The acclaimed historian has spent years bringing together memories of the Great War. His research stretches from soldiers' letters of 1915 to emails and interviews describing Anzac Day at Long Pine at Gallipoli nearly 90 years later.

But it is the grubby, decomposing files from a Melbourne mental asylum, with their accounts of women who had literally gone mad with grief, that proved the most ambitious part of his book, Return to Gallipoli: Walking the Battlefields of The Great War.

As he says, these women waved their young men goodbye fully expecting them to be "home by Christmas". The Australian - and presumably New Zealand - authorities were so certain the war would be a non-event, the soldiers' identity discs were made of compressed cardboard. And when they were mowed down in the trenches and their identity discs rotted into the mud, their mothers, sisters and girlfriends collapsed."

Read more here.

Our Warden of the Hundred: William Edgecombe

Image from NZ Graphic.

Updated: 30 April 2013

Arguably, Edgecombe was Rosebank's first gardener. It was he who placed the following advertisement in the Southern Cross in March of 1855:

Turnips and Potatoes Grown at the Wahu

Parties interested in bets respecting the measurement and weight of Turnips and Potatoes grown on Mr. Edgecombe's Farm at the Wahu, to be decided at the Exchange Hotel, Auckland, on Saturday, 31st inst. May see the same growing on the Farm as above, on Friday, 30th inst.
March 27th, 1855.

At the time he had his Avondale farm on Rosebank up for sale in October 1858, it was described as:

"A choice Farm of 200 acres, on the Whau, far and favourably known as Edgecombe's Farm. This is a property of no common description, Fenced and Cultivated, well and picturesquely Wooded, and abundantly Watered, bounded on one side by the Whau River, in which a vessel of 30 tons may load alongside the banks."

Even taking into account the exaggerations of land agents of that time and this, Edgecombe does seem to have created from an area where sheep farming was probably the best commercial use anyone could get out of the area (both John Kelly and Robert Chisholm were sheep farming in the early 1850s and 1860s-1870s respectively) -- a veritable farming paradise.

William Edgecombe (1814-1895) was born and christened in North Devon, the township of Milton Damerel, according to a family historian, Alan Taylor. According to Taylor, Edgecombe sailed to New Zealand with his wife Ann and arrived at New Plymouth in 1841, leaving in 1846 for Auckland. Another William Edgecombe had preceded him to New Plymouth, but remained there. The Auckland William Edgecombe eventually made his way north, setting himself up first as a butcher at Mechanics Bay, then a storekeeper, then as a cattle owner. He left the colony for a time in 1850, heading to California, but was back by 1852. Around that time he may have taken out a lease on Allotment 10 of the Parish of Titirangi, which was to become his Whau Farm, purchasing it outright in 1856. Certainly in March 1854, he was successful in the election for the Wardens of Auckland (sharing the job with John Russell and Benjamin Turner). In that position, he administered the isthmus cattle runs, particularly those in the Whau district. During a court case in 1854, where one Samuel Fleming breached a new bylaw made by the Wardens of the Hundred, Edgecombe deposed:

"I am a settler living at the Wahu; I am a licensed cattle holder for the district of Auckland; my cattle are mostly all running at the Wahu..."

(Note the spelling of "Whau" in those days of the mid-1850s.)

So, in amongst his cattle-dealing, his warden duties -- William Edgecombe found the time to grow some turnips and potatoes. "So what?" some today might say, but this was a very important thing back then, considering the Whau, along with much of West Auckland, was considered inhospitable to crop growing in any form back then, the soils declared to be "sour" and only good for grazing (hence the cattle and the sheep). It could be, ironically, that very system of agriculture which provided the start of the fertilisation and redevelopment of the Rosebank Peninsula into the later market gardening goldmine it became by the end of the 19th century. Back in 1855, Edgecombe was advertising a diversified land use for the cattle and sheep paddocks of Avondale which, one day, would prove to be an icon for our history.

But, by 1858, Edgecombe had had another career change come to mind. Land at what would become Western Springs, opposite Low and Motion's mill, came onto the market, so he put his Whau Farm up for sale and purchased the site of his Great Northern Hotel. (The buyer was Dr. Thomas Aickin, another experimenter in the agricultural field amongst others -- and in the 20th century, after subdivisions, Hayward Wright was to use 10 acres of the former Edgecombe land to develop new commercial fruits and plants, including the Hayward cultivar of kiwifruit.) Edgecombe's story doesn't stop there, of course -- his fame hit even greater heights with his hotel, fondly known still as the Old Stone Jug. But even there, on the scoria outcrops of Western Springs, he never quite forgot about the Whau. The initial boundaries of the Whau Highway District in 1868, at his instigation, included his Western Springs land for a time.

An additional note (21 January 2009): William Edgecombe's surname, over the course of his lifetime, went through a variety of spellings. This may have been due to assumptions, or changes in style -- one version, in the 1881 Newton electoral roll, is simply a straight-out typo. Here's a brief list of the varieties:

Southern Cross, 8 March 1850, p. 2 (public notice inserted by him) - "Edgcombe"
In the deed between him and Dr. Aickin back in 1859, his name is spelled Edgecombe.
In the 3 May 1879 death notice for his son (also named William) (NZH), it's "Edgcumbe".
Boylan & Lundon's plan of the purchase of his property (waterworks reserve) - "Edgecombe"
1881 Newton electoral roll: "Edgemnbe"
NZ Graphic 22 October 1892, p. 1046 -- "Edgcombe"
His own death notice: "Edgcombe"
Auckland Provincial Index offers "Edgecombe" and "Edgcombe"

His isn't the only name this happened to (Bernard "Barney" Keane is another -- Keane / Kean / Kane and probably also King). Ah, the joys of historical / genealogical research ...