Avondale bus crash, 1926

Many years ago, probably the mid to late 1980s, I photocopied a couple of photos from the vertical files held at Avondale Library, back when I was first starting out on my craze involving the gathering of my suburb's history. This is one of them: identified only as a crash on Great North Road, 1920s, possibly involving a milk truck. It was copied so long ago, the sheet is fullscap rather than A4.

I filed it away under Miscellaneous and moved on.

The other day, doing some fill-in research into the history of the recent building in Avondale which burned down I spotted a news article from July 1926 about a bus crash in Avondale, on the Great North Road. I followed it through, and that one of the buses involved is the same as in the photograph. This was just one of two Progressive Bus Company vehicles involved in an accident which injured nine people on 11 July 1926.

As Great North Road turns towards the Avondale township even these days from the city end, there is a sharp turn. I hesitate to cross there, as it's a bit of a blind corner. It is close to the spot where I took these photos of a mural traffic box. Back in 1926, Ash Street extension didn't exist, the Avondale Bowling Club still owned the land west of Great North Road where the road would go through, and a steep bank meant the main road was a hazard to the incautious driver.

Bus drivers in those days chose to stick to the centre of the road to avoid a capsize over the bank. Unfortunately on that day in 1926, two buses tried to use the centre of the road at the same time, between the Bowling Club and Hoyes and Jeff's coal shed.

The bus shown above was the one bound for New Lynn, driven by Jack Shorter. The windows on the right side were completely shattered, spraying the passengers inside with glass. It was the other one which was hit hardest by the side-on  collision, driven by George Bacon. It had the whole of its right side completely ripped away, and in the shock of the collision the driver lost control, heading forward and hitting a power pole.

Rain at the time wouldn't have helped with visibility. Most of the passengers were only lightly injured by flying debris and glass. Several motor cars passing through shortly afterward had their tyres punctured. Two of the passengers remained in Auckland Hospital at least until after the next day.

So, not a milk truck crash after all. The moral here is: keep those mysterious local history photos, folks. You never know when the real story will catch up with them.

Edited 16 November 2015.

Thanks to the admins at the Friends of Waikumete Facebook page -- I now know that:

"Henry Ernest Hardy died in Auckland Hospital from severe injuries to his head and face on July 14th 1926, aged 49. Mr. Hardy's son, Herbert had minor injuries. Mr Murdoch McKenzie, of Kelston House, New Lynn had his right arm broken. The bus drivers were Jack Shorter and George Bacon. George Bacon was found guilty of negligent driving causing death. He was fined 50 pounds and his licence was cancelled for 3 years, in lieu of a 9 month prison sentence with hard labour due to his unblemished record. Henry Ernest Hardy was a carpenter. He is buried in Anglican Division E, Row 9, Plot 122," Waikumete Cemetery. The image above republished with their permission.

Auckland's 'phone boxes of doom

In these days of the ever-continuing demise of public phone boxes in the wake of the cellphone revolution, younger generations will wonder what all the fuss is about in reading the following from the Auckland Star, 17 November 1924. I'm glad they had them round the right way by the time I was out toddling the pavements later on that century, though.

There are a few public telephone boxes in Auckland that are so placed as to be better able to provide more than the average trouble for those who use them. The worst that most of these boxes can do is to provide a sort of shelter shed in which one may stand for any length of time, feed the slot with pennies and turn the handle of the machine until exhausted, meanwhile swearing and shouting, all to oneself, against an inpenetrable barrier of silence.

There are a few boxes where one is liable, at any time, to get more for his money -- where, as a kind of finishing touch, a knock-down may be administered as one steps or staggers out the door.

They have often been remarked upon, these boxes, which for some unaccountable reason have been placed in such position on the street-sides that their doors open from, and on to, the roadway, which means that those who wish to use the machines have first to step from the footpath into the roadway, and then from the boxes on the street again, when they wish to come out. Examples of them are to be found near the top end of Pitt Street, and near the Grafton Bridge corner in Symonds Street -- both of them, by the way, facing safety zones.

This latter fact has an important bearing on the case. There is a considerable amount of traffic at the two corners quoted, and now that zones have been introduced, there is practically no spare room between them (the zones) and the pavements, for any by vehicular traffic. Anyone who has watched or participated in the hop-skip-and-jump methods that must now invariably be used when attempting to cross a street, will realise the truth of this. There is no room for pedestrians on the streets to-day, and when in the streets, any member of that rapidly declining race has the odds against him by about one hundred to one.

Consequently, fate may at any time decree that an ordinary human being, having used a slot telephone, may open the door of the species of box under review, step straight into the front of a motor car and in less time than it takes to tell find himself some few feet away from the point from which he started. Those who meet this experience at the Grafton Bridge box will, of course, be more fortunate than others because it is nearer to the hospital.

It may be argued that any such accident (one almost occurred yesterday) would be entirely the fault of the pedestrian. Someone would say that, as there are windows on three sides of the boxes, there would be no excuse for anyone inside not looking out and seeing that all was clear before coming out into the open. Another might say, "Serves him right for using the things." To a certain extent all this is admitted, but the mere fact that people will step into the front of vehicles from the very pavements, let alone from enclosed spaces, makes it necessary that they should, under no circumstances, be provided with facilities for sudden death.

Inquiries regarding the usual position of the doors of these portions of Post and Telegreaph Department property were made from the District Telegraph Engineer, and he replied that he had noticed the same extraordinary position himself (who could help noticing it?) but added that it was like that when he came to Auckland, and had been for some years. Possibly the idea was that it prevented blockages in pedestrian traffic -- people opening and closing doors on the footpath all day could not be tolerated in a city of the standard of Auckland. Again, it may have been so arranged purely from a humanitarian point of view -- that a man, having lost all his temper and his pennies, could quickly end his cares by opening the door suddenly and flinging himself in front of the traffic.

Itr is, of course, much more probable that accidents would happen as people left the boxes, rather than as they prepared to go into them. They are more likely to see traffic before they step from the pavement than before when they step from the boxes. Then, more often than not, they see nothing but "red".

RMS Rangitiki

This is the third ship which brought part of my bloodline to New Zealand. I don't know the names of the first two yet, the ones which brought my paternal grandfather and grandmother separately to New Zealand around 1912, but the third has always been highlighted in my life, right from being a kiddy. The RMS Rangitiki brought my mum to New Zealand from Tilbury Docks in London 9 May 1958, to Auckland's wharves at 5.55 pm on 12 June 1958. With her came my maternal grandmother and my two American-born half-brothers. They had to stay on board, so my mum told me many times, because back then, Customs closed at 5pm. It wasn't until after 8 am the following morning, Friday the 13th, that the passengers were allowed to step onto these shores. Because of this, I've always considered Friday the 13th to be lucky rather than not.

At 16,984 tons, the Rangitiki was completed in 1929, followed by related ships the Rangitata and the Rangitane. All were built by John Brown and Co of Clydebank, and were originally ships of 16,700 tons, fitted with the highest powered diesel engines built up to that time in the United Kingdom. Rangitiki's maiden voyage was February 1929, from Southampton via Madeira and Panama.

During World War II, the Rangitane was sunk by German raiders in November 1940, and the Rangitiki nearly met the same fate. She was serving as a cargo ship, carrying meat and produce from Wellington for Britain, joining a convoy out from Halifax, Nova Scotia. The German battleship Admiral Scheer fired on the Rangitiki, but fortunately missed.

After that, she transported troops and military supplies to the Middle East, fitted to accommodate 2,600 troops. She was used in support of landings in North Africa in 1943, and then voyaged to New York with German and Italian prisoners-of-war. She also carried American troops, Commonwealth airman, and invalided troops.

Rangitiki returned to passengers to New Zealand waters after a full refit in 1948, with new engines, and all trace of her wartime past obliterated. A further refitting took place at Belfast in 1957 for her owners, the New Zealand Shipping Company.

Then, after bringing my family to New Zealand in 1958 -- she nearly came to grief. In September that year, the Rangitiki grounded on the treacherous Goodwin Sands, off the coast of Kent. Still lucky, she was soon refloated and carried on undamaged. Her last voyage from Wellington was March 1962, but then she was sold to Spanish buyers, and then, when that deal fell through, to a Dutch firm of ship-breakers. Finally, she was sold again to Yugoslav shipbreakers, and was scrapped later on that year. (Source: The Ships That Serve New Zealand, L. G. Stewart, 1964)

The images come from my mum's copy of the May 1958 passenger list. The family came here in tourist class, and their names are there.

An explosive affair at Murchison

This is Murchison. Up until now, when mentioned to me, my brain would drag up the tidbit of a certain earthquake of note which took place there last century. However, 24 years before all that, it wasn't just nature getting startlingly violent in Murchison.

This from the Auckland Star, 2 August 1905.

One of the most remarkable events that has occurred in New Zealand happened at Murchison, Nelson, on July 14. A man named [Walter] Neame sued a neighbour named [Joseph] Sewell for the recovery of two heifers, which he claimed Sewell had wrongfully appropriated. The case was heard before Mr. Kendrick, S.M., in Downie's Hall. After the case had proceeded quietly for half an hour Sewell rose from a seat, and approaching the magistrate said, "I have a pocketful of dynamite, I can let it off in a minute, but I don't want to hurt you."

The police inspector noticed Sewell's eccentric behaviour, and enticed him outside the room and, with Constable Scott, went to arrest him.

Sewell evidently guessed their intention, and fumbled in his waistcoat pocket. This was immediately followed by a fearful explosion.

Sewell's body, except his legs, was blown to atoms. Inspector Wilson and Mr. [Elijah] Bunn lay stunned close by, seriously injured. Constable Scott and Mr. Fittall were 100 yards away. The direction of the explosion just missed others who were standing by, or all would have been blown to atoms. The force of the explosion is shown by the fact that a fence three yards away was blown to pieces. The explosion just missed destroying the hall, of which the corner was broken, the building being shifted three inches out of plumb.

All the windows in the vicinity of sixty feet were smashed to atoms, and the explosion was heard six miles away. The concussion affected crockery two miles away.

Great praise is due to Inspector Wilson and to Constable Scott for getting Sewell out of the building. Mr. Bunn is not expected to recover.

However, Mr. Bunn did indeed recover, and received ₤100 compensation from the government the following year. (Nelson Evening Mail, 29 August 1906)

Neame and Sewell had had a long-standing feud going on well before the explosive conclusion. At one point, Neame accused Sewell of leaving kerosene-soaked and burning rags at his door.

Six months ago Neame reported having found an ingeniously-contrived infernal machine two chains from his place, so devised that when he lifted the lid an explosion would follow, but no matches were in it, and the account was discredited. Three months ago Neame accused Sewell of poisoning his pigs, but this was also discredited.

Sewell, who was an elderly man of retiring habits, was deemed eccentric, as he had ideas and notions considerably advanced of the time. He was said to have devised a scheme of motor traction long before motor cars or 'buses were common, and his place of a few acres has some curious and ingenious mechanical contrivances of his own construction.

He also seemed to have realised the value of the "open-air treatment" long before medical science endorsed it; for his health and other reasons, he used to sleep in a van which he had covered in, and because of this he was regarded as a little "dotty." Those who knew Sewell very well, however, describe him as a quiet, intelligent, old man, extremely sensitive, but of warm, impulsive temper.

Sewell was greatly excited over the suit brought against him, and it is said he had a revolver in his possession, which he intended to take with him to the Courthouse. It is also said that on Thursday some Murchison people declared they would not enter the building while Sewell was there.

(Wanganui Herald, 17 July 1905)

Sewell was described as elderly -- but according to the Birth, Death & Marriages register, he was only 57 when he died. The hall where the case was being heard seems to have been known at the time as Downie's Hall, the only one in town and connected with the nearby Commercial Hotel and its proprietors, hence the name (after Charles Downie who owned the hotel from 1900). The hall was demolished in 1916.

Update 16 May 2012: This from Dave Grantham of Waikanae --

"Just came across your blog - very little seems to have been written about the Sewell-Neame saga. Walter Neame was killed in a trap accident near Lyell almost exactly a year later as reported in the Hawera & Normanby Star 9 July 1906. Both men's names appear in the Murchison Cemetery records online."

Mural on Grosvenor Street

I kept seeing this mural while on the buses whizzing past it along Great North Road through Grey Lynn, and was determined one day to take photos of it. Yesterday was my opportunity, wehen I hopped off the bus, and walked the rest of the way into the city.

The mural is by Doug Ford, completed 2008, and shows suburban Grey Lynn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CSIRO Bibliography entry for The Zoo War

Discovered this morning: my Zoo War has been included on a bibliography (.pdf file) put out by the Aussies at CSIRO. After the initial surprise, I have to admit I think that's quite cool. Considering it was the product of one of my "I wonder why that all happened?" hunts.

Okay, skiting's over. Moving on ...

The Bird Barn

The Bird Barn just off Lincoln Road in Henderson is a landmark for bird owners in Auckland. Trudging back up Lincoln Road yesterday in the rain, I decided to make this one of my stops before I let the rain beat me (I took a bus back the rest of the way home).

 

Interesting architecture. Hazarding a guess, I'd say the bit below is original, some kind of a storage area in the beginning, with those small and now sealed up windows. I'd need to check out some early aerials, though.

 

 Anyway, the main thing that attracted me was the mural outside. I usually stay away from commercial murals -- but this one is beautiful, and doesn't have the company's name entwined in it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heritage burns: the morning after

An update to Heritage burns.

This morning, I left the house early for two reasons: to be in time for a bus all the way up Lincoln Road to attend a funeral, and to get some photo record of the aftermath of last night's fire. Smoke was a stench that dominated both Great North Road and Wingate Street to the rear; and the fire was still actively smouldering.

Around in Wingate Street, although I was on the opposite footpath, a security guard asked, "You taking pictures?" I honestly replied yes, and then he asked for my name and who I represented, and wrote this on a sheet marked something to do with visitors to the "crime scene". Having got my name, that I represented the Avondale-Waterview Historical Society, and my voluntarily offered phone number, he let me carry on what I was doing.

One thing from this is that, with the ravages of the fire, I now have a photo record of how some of the structure had been put together. This cwas the best part of the day, even though it was showery -- later on, it settled in for a wild and woolly December 4.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lincoln vineyards

Even though I've only been around a tiny bit over four-and-a-half decades, I do remember when Lincoln Road, coming off the North-Western motorway and heading towards Henderson, used to be verdantly abundant with vineyards and orchards. Not any more. The orchards and vinyards that survive are like odd remnants from another time, amidst the spread of retail mega-outlets, a couple of large funeral establishments, and all the et ceteras.

Seeing this just off Central Park Drive today was surprising.

I took a closer look.

"Collards" is still written on the corrugated iron roof, across faded red or brown paint, and below, bravely peeking from behind graffiti, "Estate Vineyards". Collards as a firm started in Henderson on the Great North Road in 1910, according to online sources, so -- they are one of the oldies as far as West Auckland winemakers are concerned. I don't know when they moved to Lincoln Road, but they moved out in 2008.

And the remnant's future?

It will make way for a Mitre 10 hardware store.  This notification sign for the resource consent application had been ripped away from wherever it had once been posted, probably by a similar stormy windswept day like today, and just dropped in the long grass.

It looks like the last vineyard left on Lincoln Road is Mazurans.

 

 

I wonder for how long?

Heritage burns

There's an article on the NZ Herald site tonight, a pall of smoke rising in a leaden sky thick with early summer rain, and a piece of 20th century Avondale has gone up in smoke.

The warehouse-type shops on Great North Road, around no. 2059, may be classed as an eyesore these days to some folk, but they are part of our local heritage. Well, they were ... there won't be much left of them now.

The site hasn't been a lucky one, in some ways. In the 1880s, the Northern Omnibus Company set up a stable there. It burned down in the 1890s. Charlie Pooley owned the rebuilt stable, and that burned after it was convertede to a motor garage and depot for the GOS bus company on 14 November 1924. The heat from that fire was so intense, it knocked out the only power and telephone lines linking West Auckland, the Kaipara and Northland with the rest of New Zealand.

 Image: NZ Graphic 21 April 1900

 

 Image: the stable as a motor garage, early 1920s.

And now, it's happened again, to Pooley's resurrected building from the 1930s, constructed by local contractor the late Ernie Croft.

 Image: 2004

The building served as a bus depot, a taxi depot, and shops from the 1930s to today, but they have seen better times than the present. Still -- a pity they will now be doomed.

Update: the morning after.

Mural in a Helensville paddock

A business trip to Helensville Museum yesterday saw me having a munch of corned beef sandwiches while sitting on a seat on the verandah outside the main building, sheltering from the rain. In doing so, I spotted and recognised the figures on the mural placed on the side of the Hec Nicolls memorial shed. I decided to traipse across the paddock for a closer look.

Yep. I was right -- John and Helen McLeod, the founding couple of Helensville in the early 1860s. John McLeod, with his then-partner Cyrus Haskell, was one of the lessees of Henderson's sawmill in West Auckland, from 1854 to 1860.

 

 Their names aren't mentioned on the plaque beside the mural, though. The plaque reads:

"He Hononga Hou"

A New Partnership

A historical depiction of two cultures

in Te Awaroa aka Helensville

Ngati Whatua ki Kaipara &

early European settlers

Artists: Daniel Tippett & Darrel Thompson

Organised by: Te Awaroa Youth Club

The mural has taken away much of the most striking aspect of the appearance in life of Nova Scotia-originating John McLeod unfortunately -- his gangly similarity to the President of the United States at that time, Abraham Lincoln. If you want to check that out, see this link and scroll down the right sidebar.

Awaroa, by the way, was apparently the original Maori name for the district, although there must have been considerable confusion at the time with the other Awaroa in the region, down from Drury. In August 1862, it was referred to as "the new Nova Scotian settlement" (Southern Cross, 6 August 1862). Alexander Unthank had a timber operation going at Kaukapakapa as at September 1862 (SC, 6 September), and the following month McLeod advertised his own mill, "at Kaipara". (SC, 18 October 1862) The mills were called the Kaipara Mills in December 1862, and McLeod's Mill the next month. The earliest instance I've found for a reference to Helensville is a letter by John McLeod to the Southern Cross dated 10 August 1863 (printed 13 August) -- only it was published then as "Helmsville". I have my doubts therefore about the story which has been put out before now, that John McLeod called the family home "Helen's Villa", the town's name coming from that. I think, perhaps, McLeod simply put the name out there for the settlement, named after his wife. Awaroa wasn't feasible because of duplication and confusion, and following on from Thomas Henderson's example probably wasn't contemplated (at the time, "Henderson's Mill" was also known as "Dundee Saw Mill".) "McLeodsville" may have seemed pretentious.

By September 1863, though, when McLeod advertised for workers for his mill, the address given was Helensville.

Newmarket traffic control box art

My friends Bill & Barbara Ellis sent this shot through this afternoon -- looks like the box is at the north-western corner of Mortimer Pass and Broadway. I'll have to take a closer look next time I'm in the neighbourhood.