Reopening of the Chapel of Faith in the Oaks, Waikumete Cemetery

I was very honoured to receive an invitation from Friends of Waikumete to attend today's function, the reopening of the chapel. In March this year, I posted photos of the chapel during its restoration.

The proceedings was led by a piper, and ministers from various faiths.

 

Those present were led into the chapel, which was blessed.

Speeches, of course. Speaking here is Councillor Janet Clews, with Mayor Bob Harvey of Waitakere City in the middle.

A plaque was unveiled inj memory of Mary Gilligan.

White doves were released.

Artist Ray Blomfield standing proudly by his painting of the chapel.

Another plaque, this one for the reopening itself.

Now, back in March, I took a photo of the old street sign for the chapel.

This is the new one.

Below, some interior shots of the chapel.

I have no idea what this is called in Maori, but it was used to bless the chapel.

Finally, some exterior shots.

When you didn't really mean to throw that away ...

The old Auckland City Council Rubbish Destructor, Victoria Park. Image from Wikipedia.

From the Auckland Star, 27 October 1931.

The little electric motor lorries which collect rubbish from city shops and offices, and from the suburbs every day are common sights in the streets, so commonplace that nothing is thought of them and their work. Rubbish is merely put in tins by caretakers and householders and forgotten. It is supposed to be waste in the sense that it serves no useful purpose, but some of the material that goes into those tins is far from being rubbish. It is waste in quite another sense of the word. The queer odds and ends that are picked out of the so-called rubbish before it is condemned to the flames would fill a section in a museum of oddities.

"The carelessness of people is amazing," said Mr J Mathieson, officer-in-charge of transport and sanitation at the Auckland City Council destructor, after seeing his men rake over some five tons of an agglomeration of rubbish in search for missing articles. "They lose rings and banknotes, and jewellery and invoices, and false teeth and cutlery with careless abandon."

One day, he said, just as the rubbish from a particular cart was about to be tipped into the furnaces, a lady, clad in night attire and a wrap, burst into the destructor premises with the sad tale of the loss of a ring valued at £150. The men got to work, searched through piles of papers and carrot ends and tins and rotten fruit -- and they found the ring. Another few minutes and it would have been too late. While the lady had been preparing dinner the evening before she had taken the ring off and put it aside on a newspaper. When she finished preparing potatoes and pumpkin she wrapped the peelings in the paper ansd threw the parcel into the rubbish tin, ring and all. Some hours later she remembered.

Another hurried visit the destructor people had from a lady was occasioned by the loss of four £5 notes. To see the great heaps of all manner of rubbish piled there by the ton, is to wonder how four litrtle greeny-grey slips of paper could possibly be found. Yet they were restored to her.

One man lost some money in notes and made post haste to the destructor. After the staff had raked over a hopper full of rubbish (a hopper is a large steel container sloping away to the furnace) and had to admit their failure, the man cheerfully produced the money from the bottom of his pocket. "And that is typical of many cases," Mr Mathieson added. "We are put to no end of trouble, and then the missing article turns up. One woman rang up in a great state telling us that she thought she had dispatched some cricket pads to our care. She had, and we found them. They have been here ever since. That was about six months ago.

"I could fill up the humour columns in any newspaper with tales about men and women who have lost their false teeth. We are told how the teeth are put down 'just for a minute,' and how they are gone when they are again looked for. 'Someone always takes them,' they tell us, and puts them into the rubbish tin, I suppose."

Spoons, knives and forks are so common that the men by this time take no notice of them. One reputable householder was making an investigation for sundry missing articles, including a very old silver fork, and sheer chance led him to the dustbin. A meal had just been finished, but he did not connect that with the disappearance of the fork. On looking in the bin he found not merely the mkissing articl;e, but a perfectly good silver knife. In the family there were several juvenile members. Looking back through the years, when other articles broken or lost in other ways have been forgotten, he is inclined to attribute to the rubbish tin the steady depletion noticeable in his cutlery canteen.

Mr Mathieson admits that sheer hard luck was the lot of one man. He was a coal and firewood merchant, who had brought to the destructor a load of sawdust to be burned. He saw it sliding through the hopper to the incinerator, and then as he looked again he saw, too late, his coat sliding with it. The garment had £20 in notes and silver in it. When he saw the silver again it was melted into a streaky mess. The notes he never saw again. Once the carefulness of a shopkeeper was almost his undoing. It was on Christmas Eve and he was just about to leave his shop. He did not like to leave the takings of a heavy day in his till, so he put it in a box, put the lot in the dustbin, and then covered the box with some rubbish. He went home satisfied. The next working day he arrived at the office late, and found that the cleaner had been there before him, and zealous in her duties had thrown all the "rubbish" into the cart. Mr Mathieson received another visitor, who went away much relieved.

"The waste that goes on in the city must be tremendous," continued Mr Mathieson, "particularly with regard to food. We burn tons of potatoes and carrots and bread. And quite good things are thrown away, articles which could easily be repaired."

Though the destructor is the place where dirt and rubbish of all kinds collects, the premises are remarkably clean. The floors are free from dust, which is noteworthy seeing that the furnaces are never out. The whole place has a spick and span air.

Adding colour to an Auckland gateway

Te Waharoa o Aotea (1990) has seen drabber days of existence, such as here, and here. Not any more, though. Artist Selwyn Muru, in honour of the reopening of Aotea Square, has added to the sculpture, and coloured it up. I like it.

Removed while the Council were renovating the square, it seems to be the only piece of art that has made it back. It's massive (and hard -- I've knocked my head against it twice in the past) and was dismantled piece by piece.

It includes Hone Tuwhare's (1922-2008) haiku which was changed slightly when used in an Auckland City Council sculpture project on the footpath just up from the Civic Theatre, to celebrate the (now) hidden Wai Horotiu, Queen Street's lost stream. Tuwhare's haiku (about a general stream, not necessarily the Horotiu) seems to have just been in English in its original form. Was a Maori translation added by Selwyn Muru on the scuplture in Aotea Square, or is the Maori text something else?

kaati te

whenguwhengu

ake irarona e

te awatipi haere

Pikimai e te ua

e te whatu

katakata mai

anora

stop

your snivelling

creek bed;

come rain hail

& flood-water

laugh again

The Civic's elephant frieze

 

Auckland's Civic Theatre ("The Mighty Civic") was restored 70 years after its opening. Much was made of the interiors, the Indian motifs throughout.

But yesterday, while waiting for the start of the Auckland City Council shindig closing the Heritage Festival, I spotted this.

This is one of two fragments of a elephant-design ceramic frieze which once edged the Civic's lobby and foyer. One is in the doorway leading to Stark's cafe next door (pictured).

According to the heritage plaque on the wall above each portion, "When the original floor was removed and replaced with Terrazzo, eight isolated pieces of the frieze tiling survived beneath projecting wall decorations above. These sections (shaded in the diagram below) were sufficient to reconstruct the repeating pattern, and have been placed within the pair of restored panels either side of this space, using infill of new tiles made to match."

The mosaic restoration was a gift from George Farrant, long-time heritage manager in Auckland City Council and a man passionate about the restoration of the Civic.

Guest Post: The Wild Child

My good friend Liz (aka author of the Mad Bush Farm blog) has done a considerable amount of research into the background of one of Auckland's often overlooked icons -- Rajah the elephant, now just a skin specimen at the Auckland War Memorial Museum. This is her Guest Post.

He stands today at the Auckland Museum at the entrance to the Wild Child Exhibition. 

An icon of childhood, the histories say he was a rogue elephant put to death in 1936 by a future curator of the Auckland Zoo - then handed over to the Auckland Museum to be stuffed and mounted. A sad ending for an elephant that should have lived another 40 years, beyond the 19 years he had lived. There is no mention of Rajah on the Auckland Zoo History part of their website. Just the mention of the long lived Jamuna who passed away in 1965.

Rajah at the Auckland Museum
Used with the kind permission of Lisa Truttman at Timespanner

Since a small child, walking into the great echoing hall where Rajah stood, I've been fascinated by his story. Was he a mad elephant or was it the Wild Child within, that had caused him to become the way he was. I read that he had been 'captive bred' and had been imported straight from India to Hobart Zoo. A dig into the Australian newspapers on the Australian National Library website came up with a completely different set of circumstances behind Rajah's journey from a young age, to his eventual end at Auckland Zoo.

In 1924 a young Indian Elephant appeared with fourteen others in the Burma Section of the Indian Court as part of the British Empire Exhibition held at Wembley in London England. He was visited and fed by royalty, and members of the public who had flocked to see the spectacular Pagoda-style architecture of the magnificent Burma Pavilion. The exhibition ended in 1925. This young pachyderm's fate was sealed from the day he stepped into a transport crate at the London docks to head on a long sea voyage to Hobart Tasmania.

He had been swapped for Tasmanian Tigers and a Bennetts Wallaby in a deal between the Beaumaris Zoo and well known London based Wild Animal Dealer G B Chapman. The young elephant was then loaded onto the SS Port Curtis. The Argus 8 July 1925 noted the arrival in Melbourne:

Intended for Hobart Zoological Gardens, a baby elephant reached Melbourne yesterday from London. It was bought by the steamer Port Curtis, and will be taken to Sydney before going to Hobart, as the Port Curtis will be visiting Sydney first.

The Port Curtis arrived at Ocean Pier in Hobart, with its live cargo on 19 July 1925. The Mercury the following day noting 'the youngster was not adverse to being the centre of public gaze'. And this is where the histories about Rajah have been incorrect. The elephant in the same article was also noted as 'one of 15 imported for the Indian court at the Wembley Exhibition'. It further noted that the animal had been obtained from G B Chapman a well known supplier to zoos in Europe and America. Rajah was not imported directly from India, and it is most likely he was wild caught in Burma.

Burma (now Myanmar) until 1937 was considered as part of India by their (then) British Colonial rulers. Contemporary reports from around the same time period during the 1920's noted that elephants were notoriously difficult to breed in captivity and were thus caught in the wild.

On July 20 the young elephant was unloaded - with difficulty. The Mercury reported on 21 July:

First thing in the morning efforts were made to induce the animal to leave his quarters in the ship's forecastle and enter a horse box prepared for his reception, but although at one time willing to do so, a chain on his hind leg caught on two occasions on the doorway, and being unable to do what was required of him, he pulled his captors back into the hold, and all further attempts to move him were futile. When the crowd had dispersed, and the crew were at lunch, the efforts were renewed, and this time the animal did what was wanted, and in the box was lowered from the ship to the wharf where a four wheeled truck was waiting.

A very young Rajah (then unnamed) the day of his arrival at the Beaumaris Zoo, Hobart Tasmania (Mercury 21 July 1925).

Later that day the young elephant arrived at the Beaumaris Zoo to be greeted by a crowd of children and adults all awaiting the new arrival with enthusiasm.

While he was being unloaded a questing trunk was out attempting to shift one of the blocks being used to support the containing box while zoo staff were on the other end jacking and levering it off the back of the truck. The Mercury was pleased to report that the elephant was eventually liberated and upon his release:

However he was eventually liberated,and showed his appreciation of once more being on terra firma by grasping trunkfuls of tussocky grass, tearing it out by the roots and greedily devouring it.

Mr Reid has not yet named the elephant, whose age is seven years - quite a baby - and height about 6ft. He is not in the best of condition after the lengthy sea voyage, but is expected to pick up in a few weeks' time.

The house for his reception is in course of construction in the top part of the ground, and a path for his perambulations has been planned.

As with all zoos during the earlier part of the 20th century, an elephant was expected to earn its keep. By late 1926 the elephant now named 'Jumbo', was subjected to the training required to carry a howdah upon which delighted children and adults would ride upon around the Beaumaris Zoo. Unfortunately for both Jumbo and his keeper the training turned out to be difficult as the Mercury on the 5 January 1927 reported

'Jumbo' the baby elephant at the Beaumaris Zoo, has now completed his course of training as a howdah carrier, and in a few weeks' time will be put into commission, and for a modest charge children will be able to enjoy the privilege of a ride on his back.

It was not without a good deal of trouble that Jumbo submitted to the indignity of sacks of sand being placed on his back in order to prepare him for his work ahead. It was a couple of months' schooling before he would yield, without protest, to the persuasive methods of the curator (Mr Reid), but gradually he resigned himself to the inevitable, and now plods along as quietly as a child's pony.

When the first attempts were made to train him, he indignantly protested and immediately anything was placed on his back he would straight away flop to the ground, and snort defiance at his master.

This went on for some weeks, but by degrees he gave way under the persistency of Mr Reid, until he became quite accustomed to plodding along, not only with bags of sand, but with human freight. A suitable howdah is now being constructed, and it is expected that before the school holidays end Jumbo will be in daily commission and earning his keep.

It wasn't until late September 1927 that the Hobart City Council met and set a fee for rides on Jumbo the elephant. The fees was set at 3d. for children and 6d. for adults. By October it was announced that at last Jumbo was docile enough to give children rides around the zoo and had already carried his first party around the zoo. For another two years this elephant carried out his duty faithfully, without any problems as far as I could find from the reports of the time period.

On 24 January 1929 however, fire struck the elephant house where the animal was housed at the time. In his panic to escape the fire Jumbo had smashed his way out throwing his keeper A Brett aside in the process when the man had tried to stop him. Brett had been sent tumbling down a bank. He was later able to calm the elephant down and chain him to a tree nearby.

Things by late 1930 had become difficult for Beaumaris Zoo. The Mercury 24 October reported that Jumbo's days were numbered. The elephant had become uneconomic to keep and thus a decision was to be made about his future. Hobart City Council sent a letter to the Auckland City Council offering them the elephant for £150. Auckland city Council offered £125 which the Hobart City Council duly accepted.

The elephant was sent on his way to Auckland Zoo arriving on 11 November 1930 arriving at the zoo the same day where it was hoped he would be both a companion for Jamuna the female elephant (who had arrived in 1923) and earn his keep by giving visitors rides around the zoo. A month later Jumbo attacked his keeper and things went downhill for the one we know as Rajah over the next six years he was resident at the zoo.

I didn't intend for this to be a complete history of Rajah but more a look at his earlier background. I've read the reasons given behind Rajah's bad behaviour. A visitor putting a lighted cigarette butt on the elephant's truck at Hobart Zoo was mooted, however few if any have tried to think beyond what has been said and look at the nature of elephant behaviour especially that of the males.

Captivity of elephants causes their natural cycle to change. Normally in the wild a male Indian elephant will not come into a condition called musth until close to 20 years old. In Rajah's case, as with a group young orphaned elephants in South Africa of more recent times, he was denied his social group at a young age. Taken from a group of 15 to being on his own at Hobart Zoo this young elephant had no role models and thus in effect ended up as a juvenile delinquent. It happened at Pilanesburgh in South Africa where young orphaned bull African elephants came into early musth and began to kill the resident black rhino at the reserve. These elephants were the result of a cull at Kruger National Park during the 1980's. Without older role models to keep them in check these elephants ran amok attacking anything and anyone they encountered. Park Management obtained mature bull elephants from Kruger which in turn caused the young bulls to tone down and return to normal behaviour patterns. 

For Rajah being male, and arriving at Auckland Zoo at just on 13 years of age effectively signed his death warrant. Visitors according to Tiger by the Tail complained that Rajah had spat at them and showed generally ill temper. Elephants in Zoos mature earlier and come into the aggressive Musth cycle much earlier than they are supposed to. Modern Zoos now have a much better understanding of this natural occurrence - unlike their predecessors who had little if no understanding of what the keeping of a male elephant entailed.

In light of Auckland Zoo's recent announcement of an intention to have an elephant herd on the grounds they should revisit Rajah and acknowledge his place in their history. He happened. Denying his rightful place in the time line of the Zoo's history somehow seems unjustified. Rajah was a lesson to be learned. It wasn't a cigarette that did it - it was the lack of understanding for elephant behaviour and the inability to manage a large male elephant in the correct manner. Rajah was being an elephant - he deserved better than a bullet and a taxidermists skill.

Postscript. The research done for this has been extensive and is still being pulled together. I have Lisa to thank for providing the material for the Auckland Zoo years between 1930 and 1936. In due course it will all come together in a more comprehensive format. This is only a brief background behind the icon.

Motat's "Big Ben", and other tram stuff

Last Sunday, they inaugurated "Big Ben" on the Western Springs Tramway. Email invitations were sent out to annual pass holders, wee flyers distributed, and there was a small crowd gathered at 11 am.

Here's the tram shed.

On the way to the site outside the tram barn, I not only stopped by at the 1908 rail carriage, but also these items.

For coastal searchlight fans out there, this is a 1939 90cm HCD MK3 searchlight, and Fortress projector MK5, 190,000 candle power.

While this is also World War II vintage: a Fargo Pump Hose Layer, built by the Colonial Motor Company, with Colomoco fire pump.

Okay -- come 11 am, instead of allowing some of us to have a clearer view of the main proceedings, that is, the double-decker 1906 tram coming out of the shed, young ladies in tight-fitting corporate clothing shepherded us on the wrong side. The side closest to people giving speeches on a rostrum. So when Big Ben made its entrance, this is the kind of shot I got.

Ah well ... this one was better.

So -- speeches, lots of back slapping, "haven't we done well", thanks to Auckland ratepayers for funding the decade-long restoration project, etc. Some bloke from Australia representing COTMA (Council of Tramway Museums of Australasia) had a bit of a speech as well. Then, the announcement to us ratepayers -- thanks for coming to the speeches, but now the dignitaries and Australians with bright yellow tags around their necks get the first ride on the track. We Auckland ratepayers had to wait until 1pm. So sorry, but ...

Just my opinion, but -- if Motat want to give their mates from across the Tasman and some VIPs first crack, that's okay -- but don't angle the publicity giving the ratepaying public and annual pass holders the impression that Big Ben was going to be available to everyone from 11 am or soon after. One mother I spoke to was disappointed. Her kiddies wanted a ride, but she wasn't able to hang around until 1 pm.

The look of the thing was -- we members of the public were just there to make the dignitaries look good. Motat staff kept apologising, but, hey ...

So, they were all ready to board their first ride. A second tram pulled up at the rear, bearing the orchestra to seranade them as they went along. Very nice. More "Sorry, this ride is only for yellow pass wearers ..."

I wasn't really doing all that much, so I decided to hang about, have a bit of food, see the sights, and wait for 1 pm when we could get a chance to have a ride.

The other tram came back in, unloaded the musicians ...

And Big Ben was parked while the volunteers went off to have lunch.

Special double-decker or no, there was no way I was riding up top. Getting up might have been okay, but as for getting back down? When I did get a ride, from Motat 2 back to Motat 1, I stayed in the saloon.

Another promised feature was a "parade of trams". Well, no -- logistics prevented them having all eleven of their working trams on the line at one time (they might have blown a whopping great fuse), so they said they'd get them on the line gradually as the afternoon wore on. I got seven out of the eleven (I think) on camera, so that was enough for me. I headed for home.

Below are some movies shot with the camera of a few of Motat's trams that day. Click to go to the Photobucket site.