Out with the old, in with the new

Farewell, Tait-Trent Street Station, you have served us well.

On Sunday the 13th, with no trains on the Western Line, the entrances/exits to the two temporary platforms were removed. Soon, the platforms will disappear as well.

But the new station is quite cool. Sure, Crayford Street East is a bit of a climb when coming home from out of the city, but -- it has always been a climb. I guess the old road has become our new Station Hill. You can hardly call Rosebank Road leading up to Blockhouse Bay Road that anymore. And so, our history changes. That's Layard Street, stretching off to the right.

The platforms were still shut off on Sunday, so I ducked around via St Judes Street on my way up the hill. Was invited in for a coffee by Rev Bob Hornburg of St Judes, so had a cuppa and a bikkie with St Judes parishioners in the old hall there. Such mornings like that one -- is just one of the reasons why I love my home suburb of Avondale. (The reverend was in his flowing green robes at the time, the morning service having just come to an end, and I can still see him standing on the steps of the church, arms stretched, out making the invitation. It was almost like I'd come across a country church, all of a sudden ...)

Come Monday morning, and the new station is operational. This is a shot from the westbound platform (In was headed to Henderson and Mill Cottage) of the eastbound platform. Met up with another long-time Avondale resident who said the only thing amiss was that there was no nearby purpose-built carparking. He was right -- ARTA and Auckland City have yet to come to some agreement as to what and where they'll have as a parking area (park n' ride, or kiss n' ride).

Ah well, the powers-that-be will sort things out, hopefully, as the sun sinks slowly in the west ...

Auckland (War Memorial) Museum's blog

The museum seems to still want to move away from its roots and origins, so it would appear. They've launched a blog and nowhere does it refer to those two words in the brackets. Their copyright notice says "Auckland Museum" but their website does mention those words on the home page. Small lettering. Top left, on the links bar. And here, on their war memorial page.

I'll be visiting the museum tomorrow, hopefully. I felt somewhat disheartened last time I saw it, this past summer. It seemed to have lost its cool vibe. I'm hoping some of that has started to return.

A brief history of Auckland's urban form

A brief history of Auckland's urban form (pdf file) is a publication from the Auckland Regional Council. Worth a look if you'd like to see how the region developed from the 1840s. From the site:

"'A brief history of Auckland’s urban form' outlines the development of Auckland’s urban form, from early colonial settlement to the modern Auckland metropolis. It is challenging to encapsulate the growth of a city this size in 26 pages, and so the report aims to capture the key relevant drivers behind the growth in suburbs - including infrastructure provision, State housing and in later decades, major planning decisions.

"A main feature of this report is the series of ‘growth maps’. The report is chronological in nature, and each section (with the exception of two time periods 1880-1899 and 1990-1999) includes a map that shows growth over time in the built-up areas, as well as the development of the rail and motorway systems. These maps replicate, and continue, a series of maps first included in a 1967 article by G. T. Bloomfield on ‘The Growth of Auckland 1840- 1966’."

Avondale Community Centre mural

At 99 Rosebank Road, the Avondale Community Centre, built in 1990, is sporting a fine mural by Doug Ford on its southern flanks. It's been there for a while, painted within the last decade or so.

Tait Park revisited

Last year, I posted about Avondale's Tait Park, mainly due to the fact that the name of the park was nearly indecipherable on its sign, and seemed to be forgotten by some local residents.

Well, to my delight, I see that appearing before the Avondale Community Board, and writing a small history about the reserve, seems to have paid off.

As I said to one of the Avondale librarians today -- I'll go off and grizzle about something else, now ...

More Otahuhu heritage murals

Two more from the Otahuhu Historical Society's email newsletter Otahuhu Despatch. For earlier post, see here.

From  the May issue:

"This ...mural shows the staff of Andrew and Andrew leaving the premises in Great South Road, Otahuhu for a picnic at St Heliers Bay ...dating from 1909 [it] advertises Andrew and Andrew as commercial stables, livery and bait stables with buses, brakes and buggies on hire.

"In 1878 Frank Andrew moved to Otahuhu and set up the firm of F. Andrew and Sons, Seed, Grain and General Merchants and Omnibus Proprietors. This firm ran the first bus service between Otahuhu and Auckland and included a large stable of horses. Following the death of Frank Andrew in 1899 the business was split with one son, John W. Andrew going into partnership as Andrew and Lloyd and continuing the grain and produce business. In 1908 John shifted to Auckland and founded John W. Andrew and Sons, Auckland’s first Ford motor vehicle franchise holder. Two other sons, Fred and Bill, started operations in Otahuhu as Andrew and Andrew."

From the June issue:

"This second mural shows Alby Greenhalgh driving the Speedy van and dates from 1926. Albert, known as Alby to friends but always called Greenie by Mrs Andrew, worked as a driver. During his employment at Andrew and Andrew he was given a watch by Mrs Andrew that had the words “To Greenie from Mrs Andrew” engraved on the back.

"Later Alby became one of the brothers at Greenhalgh Bros. garage in the Great South Road. When he married Phyllis Mullins in 1955 he invited Mrs Andrew to the wedding at the Anglican Church in Mason Avenue, Otahuhu. She declined the invitation but asked him to introduce his new wife after the service as she lived only a few doors from the church. So, between the church and the reception at the Golden Glow in Avenue Road the newly weds were given the best wishes of Mrs Andrew on her veranda."

The new Avondale Train Station (officially) opens ...

... but not yet for passengers. Just invited guests yesterday, at a wee shindig courtesy of ARTA (Auckland Regional Transport Authority). Some songs from Avondale Primary School pupils were heard, we listened to speeches, drank coffees and teas, then got the heck off that cold, windy eastbound platform and into the snacks and nibbles (and tomato soup!) put on by ARTA at the school hall just down the road.

I must put in a WARNING here, for any readers who have concerns about images of spiders -- there is a spider image towards the end of this post. The spider being an icon of my home township, such couldn't be avoided, sorry.

Righto ...

The marquees go up on the platform, caterers move around to set up chairs, coffee/tea urns, sound systems etc. ...

... all on what has to be just about the narrowest space for any opening I've ever been to. There was good reason for the red safety barriers to keep us clear of the rails. If the drop didn't get you, the next train would.

This sort of thing fascinates me -- how they get cloths up for unveiling. In this case, a large black cloth (completed with red ribbon and bow) over the Avondale sign on the platform. Step one: get a helpful contractor to go up on the metal fence, and balance thereon, waiting helpfully to pull up the cloth from hands below.

There ya go ...

Almost there ...

The finished work, just before Mayor of Auckland City John Banks (that's him with his back to the camera) cuts the ribbon.

The bloke in front is Rabin Rabindran, chairman of the ARTA Board. John Banks at right.

The cutting ...

The pulling ...

More pulling ...

There you are! All done. They then had some of the children let off air horns, I suppose to represent trains (although one person there said it represented the sound of train horns keeping local residents awake at night ...)

Just to show you how narrow and tight the ceremonial space was -- here's one shot ...

Another with oncoming train for effect ... (at right, Chairman of Avondale Community Board Duncan Macdonald, and Councillor Noelene Raffills).

Yes, rather noisy for speeches ...

But all taken in good heart.

A special cake for the occasion was prepared (no, I don't know what it tasted like, I was more interested in the mini quiches).

The photo used on the icing is of the temporary station at Trent-Tait Streets which will be replaced by the new station we shivered on yesterday -- from next Monday (the 14th). My thanks to the Avondale Business Association for passing on word, and an invitation, to yesterday's event.

More on the event via the NZ Herald today.

To the streets, perambulators!

Image from Wiki.

We used to have a set of regulations called the Municipal Police Act which determine all sorts of things the public couldn't do in the early city of Auckland. One such thing was the pushing of perambulators, those handy conveyors of mere babies, upon the footpaths of the town. This from the Southern Cross, 26 January 1871.

During the very hot weather which has existed for some time past, a practice has become so common that there is a likelihood that the rough hand of the policeman will have to put a stop to it. Many people have made complaints to the police owing to the way the footpaths in our principal thoroughfares are crowded in the busiest part of the day with perambulators containing babies. The Municipal Police Act makes such practice a punishable offence by imposing a fine of £10 and coats, or an alternative of three months' imprisonment. The following is the wording of sub-section 3 of section sof the Act : — " Leading or riding any horse or other animal, or drawing, wheeling, or driving any cart, carriage, sledge, truck, harrow, or other thing, upon any footpath," shall be liable to the above punishment. It may not be generally known that the Act in question gives any constable, with or without a warrant, power to arrest any person offending against the above clause. It has been owing to the forbearance of the police that arrests have not been made hitherto. Nurses and servant-girls, and even mothers going out with perambulators, should keep the above clause before their eyes, if appearing at the Police Court, with baby and perambulator, to answer a charge of a breach of the municipal law be a matter which has any terrors for them.

The patience of the editors at the Southern Cross seemed to become more strained as the year wore on. This from 29 November 1871.

Perambulators are becoming a great nuisance in our thoroughfares, and should, we think, be subject to such police regulations as would prohibit them from being nurserymaided through the public streets, excepting only between the hours of twelve o'clock at night and six in the morning. The highest medical authorities state that if parents desire to forward their children to another world, without incurring a charge of wilful murder or manslaughter, they cannot do better than send one or more out in a perambulator in charge of a girl who is fond of stopping and talking to her sweetheart, or looking into drapers' shop windows. On hot days, with the sun's rays striking down fiercely, children get brain disease and die suddenly. In cold weather their blood becomes chilled, and they go into consumption. It stands to reason that the former method is the quicker and more economical way of disposing of them. The latter is a tedious and costly process.

Then, matters seemed to come to a head in 1873. This from the Southern Cross, 25 June 1873:

Two nursemaids were summoned for wheeling perambulators on the footpath in Queen-street. Both defendants were dismissed with a caution; but Dr. Nicholson expressed a hope that the reporters would make public the fact that the act complained of was an infringement of the by-laws of the city.

What sparked my interest in mid-Victorian era personal transport for infants? Well, it seems the above case led to a correspondent sending a letter to the Auckland Evening Star, berating the members of the Auckland City Council, which the editors there duly published on 4 July 1873:

"Sir,
"In crowded towns and cities in England, such as Liverpool and London, where servants are easily obtainable at a low rate of wages, perambulators are allowed in their proper place, i.e., on the footpath, out of danger; but in a village like Auckland a lady who cannot get a decent servant for love or money, and who has to wheel her own perambulator, is driven into the dirty road amongst the horses and carts, to the great danger of herself and child. What can be more absurd than for beings calling themselves business men to fool away their time and annoy the public by passing such ridiculous laws. Should any life be lost or accident happen (and it cannot be long before we hear of something of the kind), the blame will rest with the city Tom Noddies whose mean and cowardly ideas have prompted them to pass a regulation oppressive and dangerous to the weaker sex and their offspring.
I am, &c., Toby."

The Star took up the cause, in a way which might well get similarly ardent newspaper proprietors sued  (at least!) these days ...

We very cordially endorse the sentiments of the foregoing letter. The resentment of the City Council against the sweet little innocents that nestle so cosily in their perambulators would be to us unaccountable did we not know that of the City Council no less than four members have not been so far blessed by nature as to know the sweet and tender emotions of a father's love. Dried sticks are they that are bereft of the milk of human kindness, and know not what it is to dandle a little cherub, their own flesh and blood, upon their knee, or imprint the kiss of fond parental tenderness upon its little cherry lips. Human ogres are they that know not the tender gushings of the heart at seeing the little chubby arms extended, and the little face lit up with glee to greet "papa." They would drive the little dears into the street, they would, the brutes; to bge trampled upon and run over by careering cabbies and rabid butcher boys, and Mrs Ryan's cows.

In the name of every thing that is parental in the city we protest against this majority of the City Council who have themselves done nothing to fulfill the great intent of nature by increasing and multiplying and replenishing the colony presuming to expose to certain death the innocent offspring of their betters. We can picture to ourselves the scowl of disappointed spleen of this impotent and unnatural majority as they behold these momentoes of conjugal affection paraded before their eyes. Why instead of the little darlings doing any harm as they roll along in their little carriages, they exercise, we believe, a great moral influence; and we can hardly understand how any man rushing along the Queen-street pavement, his mind pregnant with some great villainy in mining or other departments of swindling, could gaze on the little innocent faces without being stung by conscience.

Then, out of the road, ye barren and unprofitable City Councillors! and make way for the perambulators. They are the symbols of progress, and their little occupants will yet rule the land when you, ye dried up sticks -- ye barren fig trees -- ye unprofitable colonists -- will have crossed the Styx, leaving neither footprints on the sands of time, nor one to bear your name, going, as ye deserve, away down, down,

Down to the earth from whence you sprung,

Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung.

Well, I'm not certain when the regulation barring perambulators from Auckland's footpaths was finally consigned to history (although I do wish some of the pushers today would pay more heed to other users of the same carriageways), but the Star attracted a few grateful fans for their stand on the issue back then. This from 8 July 1873.

We really must protest. We cannot do it, and we will not do it. Half the mothers of the city want to kiss us for having defended their little darlings and their perambulators from the City Council. We never kiss now, gave it over long ago; and we declare if we are bothered any more about this we will tell their husbands. We give positive warning. Let no deputation come here. We won't see it, we shall not be at home. Let the deputation spoken of wait on the City Council, and expend their caresses on the unhappy four. Visit them not in anger, but in love, in compassion, and in tenderness. Judge them not harshly. They are not unsusceptible to the sweet and melting influence of female loveliness. We know they are not, some of them especially. Try them. We bet they will kiss, and won't tell. But we warn the deputation to keep away from this, for we won't kiss, and we shall certainly tell.

A Waikato War myth?

The following, from the NZ Herald of 19 January 1864, startled me. Perhaps it shouldn't have -- we are, of course, by now to the brutality of martial law in times of conflict. But, this account seemed utterly incredible, even so.

EXECUTION OF A MAORI SPY

From our Mangatawhire [sic] correspondent's letter, which has been crowded out with others, we take the following interesting extract:-

"The General seems to have begun to show the friendly natives that the playing the spy, and carrying two faces will do no longer. The following are the facts of the case as I heard them about a Maori spy. As your readers are very well aware from my former letters, the mail was carried from Head Quarters of the army across country to Raglan, by friendly natives. The postman goes twice a day, and it appears that one of the natives has been in the habit of coming to the camp among the soldiers, and passing himself off as the postman. While he was in camp, he had been in the habit of making enquiries of the number of troops at the different posts. Suspicion having been raised against him, a party was set to watch him, and at last the gentleman was caught. A drum-head court martial was held over him, and the result was that he was sentenced to die. The whole of the natives of Te Wheoro's tribe were drawn up in line; the prisoner was brought up, the word 'fire' was given, and the spy fell a lifeless corpse."

Not only a court martial and death penalty, but the British had the local Maori be the firing squad? Ah, but it seems that this was all just rumour in the wind.

This from the Southern Cross, rival of the Herald, 27 January 1864, the report of a correspondent from Tuikaramea:

"Of course I am quite aware that it has appeared in the columns of a contemporary of yours that the natives had already left their position, and had gone nobody knows where. This was, indeed, interesting news to us, but it was considered extremely strange that the first intelligence of it should be supplied by a correspondent about 100 miles down the river, in place of coming from some trustworthy "friendly" here, who had visited Piko Piko, and could assert the enemy were not there. The terribly graphic account, however, of the capture and execution of a Maori spy here, and other equally true little incidents occuring at the front, so captivatingly told by this Maungatawhiri correspondent, are so devoid of truth that it would only be a waste of time further to allude to them."

 So -- it seems it pays not to go by what a correspondent "reports" to those 19th century newspapers.

Oratia District School

Looking for another piece of box art I have spotted recently in Oratia, I went down the wrong road on Sunday (darn it) but -- found the Oratia District School as a consolation. It was worth the blister trek down West Coast Road.

These memorial gates date from after World War II. Schools these days seem to want to replace gate memorials when going through upgrades. I'm pleased to see these ones are still in place.

Plus, at the eastern end of the school grounds, at the intersection of Shaw and West Coast Roads, this lovely reminder of Oratia's heritage by Toby Twiss -- a fruit tree (background), and an impression of children past and present. The school dates from 1882, the sculpture from 2007, for the 125th anniversary celebrations.

An excellent history of the school is online, and can be found here (.pdf format).

Watching out for sharks in the Waitemata, 1864

This piece from the NZ Herald, 16 January 1864, fascinated me on more than one level.  First, yes, it is about public reaction to sharks in what is usually presumed to be the safe waters of Auckland's Waitemata Harbour. Long-time students of Auckland's history know this assumption of security from predation to be a fallacy -- shark sightings in both harbours have a long history in European times. Then, there is the reference to the cattle importing from Australia (Sydney, to be precise) and an unpleasant inkling of the fate of those beasts on their journey across the Tasman. The public baths at Official Bay intrigue me as well -- where were they, I wonder? What happened to them? Questions awaiting future answers. As well, this piece is not so much about sharks, as it is a description of the geographic divisions of the haves (east of the city) and the have-nots (west of the city), something which has only truly blurred since the 1980s.

Since a constant succesion of vessels with cargoes of cattle has been laid on from Sydney to Auckland, the navigation between those two ports can, it is said, be undertaken without chart or compass; all that is required being that a look out with a rather sensitive nose shall be placed at the bows. Sharks, too of the real Sydney kind, a most voracious and ferocious one, have been induced to immigrate to New Zealand waters, the aforesaid cattle ships providing them with a luxurious and plentiful commissariat on the way.

When once here there is little doubt but that they will find sufficient inducements in the unsuspecting confidence of our Auckland bathers, to remain and settle amongst us. One indeed of the more enterprising among them actually ventured on a prospecting trip into Freeman's Bay, and at high-tide passing under the bridge at the Freeman's Bay road, snapped down a dead cat with much gusto to the great consternation of a small boy swimming paper boats alongside.

In Official Bay a large area is being enclosed for bathing purposes, mainly by private subscriptions, and the Provincial Government have afforded every assistance in carrying out the work, and in promises to do the same should it be found advisable to extend the area enclosed. Is nothing to be done for the inhabitants of the west side of the city? Cannot the Provincial Government afford them every assistance in securing a bathing place free from the danger of becoming a bon bouche for some gourmand of a shark? We have no doubt but that if the inhabitants of this district would stir themselves in the matter, the Provincial Government would assist them to the same extent as it has done or may do on the other side of the city. 

It is not pleasant to be debarred from the luxury of a saltwater swim -- the excitement occasioned by the risk of a shark intruding on felonious purpose intent rather more than counterbalances the enjoyment of a bath, where one draws one's legs in tremulously every two minutes to assure oneself that they are still one's own property.

Salty fate promised for a thief

This from the Auckland Evening Star, 12 June 1873.

We have been moved by several residents at North Shore to make known to all whom it may concern that petty depredations have been frequently committed at night in that district within the past eight days. In some cases turkeys and other feathered bipeds have disappeared, in others clothes lines have been lightened, and the depredator, who is asserted to not belong to that suburb, did not even respect "the bridge that carried him over," for the ungrateful individual went on board the Enterprise ferry steamer, and in the absence of the Captain entered his cabin and helped himself to change. But there is a remnant of honesty, or some other sentiment in the fellow, for although there were twenty shillings of change he took only twelve and sixpence as sufficient for his pressing wants, leaving seven and sixpence to the skipper.

But notwithstanding this discriminating taste several residents have expressed the determination to nab the prowler. One says he will place "salt on his tail,", as people catch the swallows, and that he will do it with salt, and that if he observes the man during the night watches prowling about his verandah or his outhouses he "will pepper his bottom," and he asks us to ask others to go and do likewise. The idea is certainly an excellent one, and we recommend our friends at North Shore to think of salt.