Avondale’s Racecourse by the River Part 1: Origins and first years (1890-1922)

The set-up at the Wingate side of the course, 1890-1900, showing the main stand (centre) looking toward St Jude Street in the distance. 7-A7334 (1897), Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections.

See also: Avondale races, the early days

Whether you have the occasional betting “flutter” on the horses, or you come out these days emphatically opposed to horse racing on animal rights and gambling issues, one thing can’t be denied: for well over a century, since 1890, the Avondale Racecourse has come to be part of the landscape of Avondale both in heritage terms as well as in the reality of its existence. Avondale identified with the racecourse through most of the 20th century, and thoughts of its closure from time to time elicit sadness, and concern. Especially regarding the fate of the much more recent Avondale Sunday Markets there. 

But, back in 1889, it didn’t exist. What was there, in the main area of the course, was the land owned by Charles Burke, a mix of swampy ground, paddock and, right at the edge of the Whau River, a brickyard which he’d leased out to various entrepreneurs since the 1870s. In 1889, the business there could have been Kane’s, or even J J Craig’s yard before the latter took over the St Georges Road brickworks in the 1890s. It isn’t clear which as yet. 

Burke’s land had no access to the Great North Road, being completely surrounded on the landward side by other owners and their properties. It is likely that those who paid him to use part of the ground for a brickyard didn’t mind that – the river was their way of transporting what bricks were made at the small kilns out to market. The brickmakers there didn’t last long, however. There was a considerable turnover at the site, probably due to that lack of direct road connection. 

So when, in 1889, after a meeting that apparently took place in the brand new Avondale Hotel that August, a consortium approached Burke with an offer to lease his ground apart from the brickyard, he probably saw a great opportunity. The partnership was Moss Davis, Henry Henwood “Harry” Hayr and Michael Foley. 

Davis, through his firm Hancock & Co, rebuilt the Avondale Hotel after the previous building was destroyed by fire in 1888. Later in the 1890s this became the Captain Cook Brewery’s land. The company had the hotel’s land, and the adjoining strip fronting Great North Road including the site of today’s Town Square and the “Dale the Spider” installation. Moss Davis stepped away from the committee by 1899. 

Hayr, a sports promoter, was friends with Davis. He was appointed Secretary for the new club in 1889, and was one of the early handicappers at the first races (a conflict that was brought up when it was pointed out that he was the handicapper for races where his own horses were starters.) He took over the printing business of Cecil Gardner & Co, and turned it into the Scott Printing Company – which wound up with the concession to print and sell all the club’s programmes. To top it off, he ran a totalisator company, and as secretary of the club was the one to apply to the government for a licence to run a tote on the course. In later years, he passed that part of his enterprise over to his son.

Foley was another friend of Davis’, very involved with the hospitality industry, and was the second publican at the new hotel (after Daniel Arkell, who went on to found his own brewery in Newton). Foley remained connected with the club from that point on, including serving for a number of years as president up to his death in 1922. 

A right of way giving access for the brickyard tenants to the main road via Wingate Street may have been provided in the undocumented 1889 agreement between Burke and the three partners – it was certainly laid out clearly in writing twice in 1898 and once, on the second deed, as an illustration. “The Drive” as it became known for the brief time it existed ran eastward along the southern boundary of the racecourse, then took a right turn, swept out on a curve, before exiting into Wingate Street, possibly somewhere near the grassy strip that still remains attached to the racecourse land between 21 and 25 Wingate Street. The Drive became a legal grey area in terms of the gambling regulations, not because of the racecourse but because individuals sometimes used it on racedays as a place for illegal games of “two-up” – and would sprint into the adjacent Webb’s Paddock in Wingate Street to evade the police in pursuit. 

Up until 1901, the early racecourse was little more than a third of its present size. The 47 acres leased from Burke, with an irregular boundary toward the river, meant that the first track had to be egg-shaped rather than oval, and smaller than later versions. Up until 1921, the Jockey Club itself had a small membership, even by the standards of the clubs of the day. The land dealings for the club were, up to 1923, always in the names of three trustees, rather than the club as in incorporated body. These were Davis, Hayr and Foley up until Davis’ departure from the committee, when he was replaced by Robert Humphrey Duder. 

Still, with the proximity of the Avondale Hotel and the railway line, the Avondale Racecourse proceeded, the first meeting held on 26 April 1890. Architects Burrows and Mitchell designed the first grandstand (located possibly just north-west of the Wingate Reserve), the first programme was printed by Hayr’s Scott Printing Co. in time for the day, including the first Avondale Cup of 1¾ miles, for a purse of 55 sovereigns. Easy access from the railway station was advertised, which indicates to me that the Elm Street gate was possibly the first main entrance (later used as a members’ gate). “The Drive” from Wingate Street was a secondary entry, but one where those arriving could also purchase entry tickets. 

Tracking the early history of the Avondale Jockey Club isn’t easy. The press didn’t cover what went on at the annual general meetings until 1898. They worked in closely with the Metropolitan Club at Ellerslie (which considered approval for Avondale’s annual programmes), and allowed coursing, cricket teams (“Publicans” vs. “Sinners”) and polo clubs to use their grounds by 1892. Also in that year, the club auctioned off “privileges” or concessions to certain providers: Foley had the publican’s booth for £17, a Mrs Hunt paid £2 for refreshment stalls, the Scott Printing Co (Hayr) paid £5 for the right to sell racecards, Mr Quinn had the rights to charge for stabling for £1 10s, and Mr L Adams controlled the gates for £27. The racecourse was a business upon which other businesses relied, right from the start. 

The saddling paddock was on the eastern side of the property by at least the mid 1890s, backing onto what was until recently the Suburbs Rugby grounds, taking advantage of stabling available both on the properties between the future line of Racecourse Parade and what is now the Avondale Central Reserve, and Thomas’ Paddocks on the other side of Great North Road. 

Each year, the club needed to apply for a license to run the totalisator; in 1895, they experimented with doing without the tote, sticking just to bookmakers instead, and saw their attendance numbers drop sharply as a consequence. 

1898 saw the club finally gain a formal lease agreement of seven years from Burke, and the following year another from the Captain Cook Brewery (then owners of the Avondale Hotel) for two sections on Wingate Street (as well as an access agreement for “The Drive”). The club set to with enlarging their grandstand. In August 1898, the press reported on their annual general meeting. Michael Foley chaired the meeting, with John Bollard MHR voted as President, steward and judge, and Edwin Mitchelson Vice-President. Hayr as Secretary was tasked with drafting a set of rules for the club (which makes me wonder if they were operating for the first eight years without any rules at all).

As part of the improvements completed by September 1898, the whole course was encircled by white wooden rails (something it lacked up to that point.) The old grandstand had doubled in size to 82 foot long, designed to accommodate 1500. A box was placed on top, for stewards and press representatives. Underneath the stand was a “spacious” dining room. Two separate bars, one inside and one outside the paddock, catered for the thirsty. In 1899, the club members agreed to make a new roadway at the main (Elm Street) entrance, add new loose boxes, and enclosed the saddling paddock with a galvanised iron fence. By September 1899, the saddling paddock was now just west of the grandstand, alongside Webb’s Paddock near Wingate Street. A new totalisator house was built from 1899. 

At the club’s 1900 AGM, there was talk of purchasing part of the Captain Cook Brewery land, possibly leasing an acre of Webb’s Paddock, and considering John Bollard’s offer of 18 acres of his land fronting onto Ash Street. In May 1901, Hayr, Foley and Duder obtained title of that part of Bollard’s farm for £1100 (Bollard’s land at the time under action of sale through mortgage default by the Auckland Savings Bank). A section at the corner of Ash Street and Rosebank Road, including the Bollard homestead, was transferred back to Jane Bollard, and only returned to Jockey Club ownership in 1943. 

From the end of 1900 therefore, the club with its architect Edward Bartley started to make plans to shift the existing grandstand along with judge’s building and some fencing clear across to the other side of the track, on the additional space that the Bollard land purchase brought with it. This sparked threats of a lawsuit by Moss Davis, who claimed lease rights to the buildings and didn’t want them shifted. In the end, he withdrew, the club promised to leave the old “Drive” entrance gate off Wingate Street where it was, and the focus for the racecourse shifted away from the hotel which had led to its founding. 

Now, on the Ash Street side, the club had a new grandstand built beside the older one they had shifted, the new building constructed by R R Ross for £1657. They also built a stewards stand and offices, also designed by Bartley, for £367. There were new horse stalls built, latrines installed, and new fencing, along with a drainage contract. The new layout proved attractive as a location for other events, such as local fruit and horticultural shows from 1902. The course also had its first telephone installed, with telephone poles and wires crossing the course through to at least the early 1930s.

In 1904, the main area of the racecourse, the land leased from Burke, was purchased outright by Hayr, Foley and Duder on behalf of the club for £2415 12s 6d, giving the club more firm footing in terms of land tenure. This was followed by purchase of the old brickyard site in 1906. 

In 1908, as a result of the Eden electorate going dry, the racecourse could no longer sell alcohol. Following on from that, the Avondale Hotel lost its licence in 1909 and closed in June 1910. I have heard stories though of jockeys secreting illicit stashes of beer and other alcohol under the stands in various nooks and crannies, until the liquor laws were relaxed in the 1960s. There were also instances of sly groggers operating on the course during race days, until they were caught. 

In 1909, the Jockey Club adopted new rules, which it retained through to the early 1920s. A new members stand was designed by Wade & Wade Architects in 1910. Around this time, the course started being used for military camps from time to time, right up to and including World War II. Tenders were discussed for a new totalisator building in 1911, and in 1913 the grandstand was extended. That year, the racecourse was used by Sandford and Miller for their aeroplane flights. A trainers stand was added in 1914. 

The 1920 Jockeys Strike was sparked off in Avondale at an April meeting. The dispute would come to affect other Auckland clubs, and involve even the local Railwaymen’s Union, before it ended three months later. 

A grand athletics carnival was held on the racecourse in May 1921, including motorcycle and bicycle racing, basketball, rugby, athletics, dancing, music, and lots of sweets to eat. Motorcylists would use the course in other events in the 1920s to 1930s, as would local harrier clubs. The Auckland Rugby Union, in particular, viewed the racecourse as a huge asset, with the burgeoning interest in the sport and the shortage of grounds on which to play. This support helped the Jockey Club face the most serious threat to its existence up to that point in 1921. 

In that year, a commission of inquiry recommended that Avondale Jockey Club be shut down. There were too many suburban racecourses in Auckland in the commission’s opinion. 

“Auckland at the present time has no less than five racecourses within a radius of ten miles from the Central Post-office, three for racing and two for trotting. Of what may be termed Auckland suburban clubs we have rejected the claims of two—viz., the Avondale Jockey Club and the Otahuhu Trotting Club. With reference to the Avondale Club, the position is most unusual. This club, from its inception, has had a remarkably small membership. It now has upon its roll twenty-nine members, of whom one has permanently left the Dominion.
“Of the remaining twenty-eight, no less than twenty-three are members of the Auckland Racing Club, and, according to the returns furnished, only twenty-one had paid the annual subscription. Of the sixteen members who fill positions on the committee and stewards, thirteen are members of the Auckland Racing Club. Not one of the members of this club lives in Avondale or its vicinity. The committee has obviously not welcomed new members, as is apparent from the fact that only thirteen have been elected during the last eight years, and the club has an exceedingly discouraging rule with regard to a change in the personnel of its committee.
“Little or no attention has been paid to the provision of training facilities, and it is therefore not surprising that there is but one small training-stable at Avondale. The totalizator was for many years worked for the club by the gentleman who was then, and is now, its secretary —under contract; but since a rule of racing prohibiting this came into operation the contract has been held by a firm comprising the son of the secretary and a partner- —the secretary himself, as we are assured, not being interested. This club is in a strong financial position, and has a very substantial surplus of assets over liabilities. The titles to the racecourse properties stand in the name of three persons, of whom the secretary is one. These persons were among the original promoters of the club. The rules of the club, adopted in 1909, provide that the properties of the club shall be vested in trustees. No declaration of trust could be produced. This club is unnecessary, and for that and other reasons indicated should not be permitted to hold down totalizator licenses, which are urgently desired by country and other clubs with infinitely better claims.” 

A vote to limit permits was lost in Parliament, Opposition member Michael Joseph Savage in particular remarking that “the report seemed to show a dead set against Avondale, though he was not sure the report contained anything in the way of evidence.” The Jockey Club received support from the new Avondale Borough Council, as well as the Auckland Rugby Union, and managed to weather the storm intact. However, the message had been received, and changes were made.

A new set of rules were drawn up, and the Jockey Club incorporated on 29 April 1922 under the Incorporated Societies Act 1908. From May that year, the existing trustee titles were transferred over to the Avondale Jockey Club, and the Club would obtain titles in its own name from that point on. It had been, though, a very close call.

Michael Foley, one of the original promoters, died in October 1922, and Harry Hayr was to pass away in 1923. Their passing coincided with the shift to a new phase of development for the Avondale Racecourse as the Jockey Club entered its fourth decade.

Part two at this link.

The racecourse in the 1910s. 35-R158, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections

Two Avondale artists: W A Bollard and J W Ash

Once, there were two artists, both born in the late 1860s, both died in the 1940s, one was born in Avondale but would live elsewhere, the other born elsewhere but would live in Avondale. Today, they aren’t exactly household names but they were part of their respective artistic communities while they lived. 

The commercial artist

(Image below: Evening Star, 14 July 1941.)

William Allen Bollard was born, according to one family tree, 25 April 1869. His father was John Bollard, and his mother Jane née Ganley. John Bollard had an 86-acre farm on Rosebank beside the river leased from William Innes Taylor since 1863. As a boy, William would have attended the Whau School in the public hall opposite the Presbyterian Church. As a teenager, he developed a flair for the artistic, and was apprenticed to John Henderson in Wyndham Street in the City. Henderson’s “Decorative Establishment” boasted services in painting, glazing, paperhanging, artistic decorating, and sign-writing. But William also studied under the tutelage of artist Kennett Watkins, master of the Auckland Free School of Art in 1880, and president of the NZ Art Students Association in 1884. Watkins was known for his landscape paintings, and this would later be William Bollard’s main theme of work. 

At 18 years of age, two of William’s works, a view of J M Alexander’s Mt Albert residence, and John Henderson’s Ponsonby home, were put up on display in the window of Phillipps and Sons in Queen Street. They were described in the NZ Herald of 25 August 1888 as “equal in distinctness of lines to photographs.” By June the following year, aged 19, William entered into a partnership with signwriter and decorator Robert Henry Froude; “Bollard & Froude” began to advertise their business as “signwriters, decorators and gilders,” “paintings of New Zealand scenery always on hand. Pictures mounted and framed,” at 177 Queen Street. 

In 1891, William married Harriet Sankey, and the couple would have one son: John Henry Allen Bollard, born 22 June 1893. Sadly, Harriet passed away just weeks later, and was buried in Rosebank Cemetery. 

Bollard & Froude worked on the signwriting for commercial premises in central Auckland, and as a highlight were appointed the official signwriters for the Auckland Industrial Exhibition of 1896. In 1899 however, they parted ways, Froude buying William Bollard’s interest in the business. Froude carried on the business in his own name until he went bankrupt in 1913. 

William Bollard, however, became involved with the Auckland Society of Arts, exhibiting his work at their shows but also attracting criticism from the press such as “not as good as his work of several years back.” By 1904, he shifted to Dunedin, where he set up a studio. There, two of his paintings exhibited in the window of the Dresden Piano Company shop attracted much more favourable comment, said to “attract attention on account of their effective treatment and harmonious colouring.” By 1906, his work was exhibited and auctioned at McCormick & Pugh’s Art Gallery in the city.

In 1910 he married for the second time, to Emma Hawkins Meadowcroft. The couple would have two children, Margaret Jane Ganley Bollard in 1911, and Albert Ernest Bollard in 1912. Emma, though, died 14 June 1915, aged only 37. There was more sad news just over a year later – his first son John was killed by shellfire in action in France 25 September 1916. The shell blast flung John 60 feet into the air. When his body was recovered, it was described as badly mangled, with the clothes stripped away by the blast. John Henry Allen Bollard’s name is included on the marble roll of honour prepared by Avondale Primary as a past-pupil of the school. When William Bollard died in 1941, the Dunedin Evening Star printed a considerable obituary. 

“A familiar and popular figure to many Dunedin citizens passed away suddenly on Saturday in the person of Mr William Allen Bollard, the well-known landscape painter and teacher of art. Deceased, who was in his seventy-third year, was one of the best known artists not only in Dunedin, but also in many other parts of New Zealand, and landscapes from his brush are to be seen in many different parts of the country … 

“For the past 40 years he was a regular exhibitor at all the exhibitions of the Otago Art Society, and his landscapes, characteristic in their broad and colourful treatment, were always a source of interest to visitors. Mostly his subjects were local beauty spots, with which he had a very intimate acquaintance, and his style and manner on canvas became readily recognisable. Though he has left in pictorial record many charming views of Otago landscape, he was also fond of the picturesque country of the northern Maori, which he knew in earlier years, and sometimes used his brush effectively in such scenes. Mr Bollard possessed the individuality of the artist to a marked degree, and this was reflected in all his work, specimens of which will be greatly missed at future exhibitions of the Otago Art Society, with which he was connected for so long. In oil and water colour he was equally at home, using both, confidently and convincingly. Three of his pictures of Dominion scenes are hanging in New Zealand House, Loudon, and work from his brush is to be seen in hundreds of Dunedin homes. 

 “As a teacher of art he was also eminently successful, and he was always ready with advice and assistance to those seeking proficiency in the use of pencil or brush. Mr Bollard was a great believer in a sane outlook on art, and, while he did not condemn initiative, he was definitely opposed to the modernistic school. Even during the last few years, at an advanced age, he had as vigorous and colourful a brush as over, his exhibits being painted with characteristic freedom and attracting the eye with their admirable colour tones and atmosphere. In the community generally Mr Bollard had a host of friends who admired his genial nature and sense of humour. He was also a reader and a thinker, and one of his favourite authors, whom he quoted freely, was Charles Dickens, with whose numerous characters he had an intimate acquaintance.” 

He lies buried in Andersons Bay Cemetery.

“In Pensive Mood”: Albert E Bollard’s study of his father William Allen Bollard, from Otago Daily Times, 15 May 1936

The art teacher 

The other artist was one John Willsteed Ash, whose former residence at 88 New Windsor Road was recently put on the market and attracted some concern as to its fate in this era of property development and apartment blocks. 

Born in Hampshire, England in 1868, Ash’s father was a bank cashier, but apparently could also afford a servant in the family household, according to censuses. In 1898, Ash married Hannah Beauchamp Bellows in Wales, and they settled in Dudley, a market town in the West Midlands, 10 miles or so from Birmingham. His art training is said to have come from Leicester, Birmingham and South Kensington schools, according to his obituary. By 1900, Ash became assistant master at the Dudley School of Arts. The couple had four children: Christabel (c.1902), Norah Bellows (c.1904), Margaret Beryl (c.1905), and John Stanley (c.1908). The Ash family in Dudley also had a servant, so John W Ash was likely relatively well-to-do middle class. 

In 1907, when the Dudley school of art’s headmaster died, Ash was not chosen to be his replacement (the position worth a £250 per annum salary). He remained as the assistant for the new man, but it must have been a disappointment. In 1913 however, a new opportunity presented itself: he successfully applied for the position of arts master at the new Seddon Memorial Technical School in Auckland, New Zealand. The family packed up, waved goodbye to Dudley, and sailed from Plymouth aboard the Ruapehu for Wellington, travelling via Tenerife, Capetown and Hobart, Tasmania, on 15 March 1913. The Ruapehu had a few delays, but but arrived in Wellington on 3 May, just four days late. Ash was present at the opening of the new school at Wellesley Street on 4 June 1913. He would remain as the senior art master there for the next 27 years.

The Ash family started to live on New Windsor Road c.1916. At that stage, the property was a two-and-a-quarter acre section which was part of the Methuen Hamlet, and by 1914 was owned by Henry John Watkins. The house at 88 New Windsor was probably either built or moved onto the section around 1915, when a land agent named Robert Brown lived there. Ash bought the property outright from Watkins in 1920, and he retained ownership until his death in 1943. Hannah Ash died there on 12 July 1927, aged 58, and was cremated.

By 1931, Ash was on the committee of the Auckland Society of Arts. Some of his landscapes featured in exhibitions held at the Auckland Art Gallery. It may have been him who planted so many trees on his section that the 1940 aerial shows it simply packed as an almost solid canopy, with his house at the roadside corner where it is today. His “Study in Pines” may have had inspiration there. He may have had a friendship with Arthur Athelstan Currey of the tomato greenhouses fame on the other side of the road near Bollard Avenue – Currey was one of the witnesses to the signing of Ash’s will. 

By the time of his death in December 1943, Ash was survived by his three daughters, and his son John who was an architect at the time. There were seven grandchildren. The Auckland Society of Arts held a memorial exhibition for him 31 August 1944. 

“His oil landscapes, carried out with careful attention to detail and texture in the trunks end of trees, and with a real feeling for New Zealand sunshine, were often to be seen in annual exhibitions of the Society of Arts. Among more exciting modern work they were apt to be overlooked by visitors, but the society recognised their merit in 1942 with an award of the Bledisloe Landscape Medal for a painting of rugged West Coast scenery. The special exhibition, which will be open to the public for three weeks, includes nearly 30 oils, loaned for the occasion, and showing the development of Mr Ash's art over half a century. There are almost as many watercolours, mostly executed in his earlier days, and two specimens of illumination.”

 (NZ Herald, 1 September 1944) 

The Auckland Star wrote much more about the man, and the memorial.

“One could see the artist walking across a field in England, along a country lane, or through a village street... perhaps he would stand on a clifftop, or on the rocks near a fishing village. He would be a quiet man and it would be hard to tell his thoughts. Then he would sketch out his idea for a painting, perhaps after some minutes of close concentration. He would not be the sort to go to work on a painting immediately. He would be very patient. And now, 54 years after that artist worked in a fishing village in Cumberland, or above the Tyne Valley, or in a valley above Devonshire village, or in the Waste Country of the Midlands, or in Ireland, or in Wales, the results of his work may be seen in a small room in Auckland, a long way from his birthplace … 

Many artists must have had similar training, must have painted much the same sort of subjects: "Fishing Boats, Calm Day, "Fishing Boats," "Cove With Boats, "Cart," "Cottage Near Waterford, and so on. But there is a difference with this artist, for somebody has written: "The art of New Zealand in general, and of Auckland in particular, is poorer by the death of John Willsteed Ash."

“That is a strong statement and the grounds for it must be found. His work in this country? It is the familiar material as far as subject matter is concerned. In 1914 he painted the Sugar Loaf Rock and Valley at Piha, in 1915 the Manukau Heads on a grey morning, in 1916 the Whau Creek, in 1918 Blockhouse Bay, in 1920 a scene near Mount Albert, and so on up to 1943, when he painted gums with the Waitemata in the distance. In 1943 he died. There is certainly nothing of a radical nature about his work in this period. One comment overheard at the present exhibition was: "Some of it's all right, but it's very Victorian, and some is worse than the rest. In fact, some of it's downright rotten." When one remembers the vigour of the work of the younger Auckland artists and their experiments, in line with world movements, that is possibly fair comment. It would be useless to deny that the greyness and quietness of the paintings of Ash are out of step with the modern way of things. But, for all that, there is the tribute paid to him in the society's catalogue and by those who knew him. And occasionally there are moments, when one views the exhibition, that arouse genuine admiration —"Study of Pines (Afternoon Light)," for example. There are fewer than half a dozen paintings, though, where the sunshine breaks through the gloom.

“It is in the teaching career of John Willsteed Ash while he was in this city that the value of his contribution to our art is to be found. He accepted the appointment of director of art at the Seddon Memorial Technical College in 1913 and remained there until 1940. He executed several fine back cloths for operas performed at the college. He was awarded the Auckland Society of Arts Bledisloe Medal for New Zealand landscape in 1942. The society's catalogue pays a final tribute: "Mr. John Ash was of a retiring nature who found his joy and satisfaction in the practice of arts and crafts. He was not greatly concerned with either popularity or applause." 

(Auckland Star, 9 September 1944)

The Ash family's home at 88 New Windsor Road in November 2015. Google streetview.

John and Hannah Ash’s cremains are in the Columbarium Niche Wall at Waikumete Cemetery. The trees are mostly long-gone, removed when the property was subdivided in the 1950s. Little remains of John W Ash’s time here except scattered mentions, and some works that appear for auction from time to time. 

But while Bollard and Ash are mere footnotes in the story of art in New Zealand, they are both connected to Avondale.

William Edgcombe, and his Northern Hotel at Western Springs

William Edgcombe (inset) and the Northern Hotel beside Great North Road (right), Western Springs. 

Detail from 5-209, and 7-A3076, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections.

William Edgcombe was a man who took up the opportunities in life when they presented themselves, cannily invested in property and built up his income from rental housing and other land use, and successfully ran first a farm on Avondale’s Rosebank Peninsula, then a hotel on scoria-strewn grazing land at Western Springs. He should, by rights, have been as successful as the likes of Patrick Dignan, or John Logan Campbell, and be as well-known today. Instead, his final years were a haze of hallucination and paranoia, his rights to run his estate taken from him due to mental incapacitation, and the tragic circumstances laid bare after his death by an unseemly squabble in the courts over his last will.

He was baptised in 1814 at Milton Damerel, Devon, the son of Roger Edgcombe and Ann Hockin, but always claimed to be four years older, naming his birth year as 1810. He married Mary Ann Andrew in 1838, and the couple had a son, James, in 1839. In July 1840, the New Zealand Company began to promote “free passage to the intended settlement of New Plymouth, New Zealand” for “Agricultural Labourers, Shepherds, Miners, Gardeners, Brickmakers, Mechanics, Handcraftsmen and Domestic Servants, being married and not exceeding 40 years of age …” The Edgcombes took this offer up, made an application to the company, and joined nearly 200 others on the Amelia Thompson, sailing from Plymouth on 25 March 1841. On the way, young James Edgcombe unfortunately fell ill and died before they reached New Zealand, on 7 June 1841. It would be 13 years before William and Mary Ann would have another child.

Arrival in New Zealand

The ship arrived in Wellington halfway through August, and reached New Plymouth either 3 or 5 September 1841. We don’t know much about what Edgcombe did while he was there, although he appears to have been involved with the local Wesleyan church. A family history recounts that he took up farming, which would fit his later career elsewhere. It does appear that, like many others who took up the Plymouth Company’s offer of free passage to the new colony, they struck trouble when Maori landowners disputed the company’s “land purchase” from only a few members of the iwi, and so the government under Governor FitzRoy had to step in, purchase other land in the “FitzRoy Block”, and then encourage the settlers on the disputed area to swap over for the other land. Edgcombe did this, then in 1846 offered up five acres of the land he’d taken in the swap for a hospital site for the township. William and Mary Ann reached Auckland in 1846, and decided to settle there, offering up the remainder of his New Plymouth land to the government. William and Mary Ann reached Auckland in 1846. He set up a business in Mechanics Bay as a butcher by 1847, then the Edgcombes left New Zealand in March 1850 bound for San Francisco. Their time away wasn’t long. The Edgcombes arrived in Sydney in December 1851; William was back in Auckland from Sydney in February 1852, while Mary Ann Edgcombe followed in April.

The intervening time was probably when William Edgcombe made his plans for resettlement, and purchased land on Rosebank Peninsula (May 1852), stretching from present day Riversdale Road to Mead Street. In 1854, he was elected as one of the Wardens of the Hundred of Auckland, therefore one of the first of our local representatives on a territorial authority, even though Hundreds then were very limited to simply maintenance of roads with funds gained from grazing leases on Crown lands. On his Rosebank farm, he successfully demonstrated that the ground could be used for raising crops, such as turnips, and he and Mary Ann had two children there: William in 1854, and Mary Jane in 1856. In 1858, he sold his 200 acre Avondale farm, and shifted his attention and his family to Western Springs. I've previously written about his Avondale years.

The extent of Edgcombe’s 110 acres at Western Springs, made up of Allotments 173, 174 and 175 (white circles). 

Eden Roll 46 (c.1890) Land Information New Zealand.

The Hotel at the Springs

In 1855, William Edgcombe purchased nearly 71 acres opposite today’s Motions Road, forming around half of the area of the Chamberlain Park golf course. He also obtained another nearly 25 acres off Great North Road, to the east of the old alignment for Western Springs Road, and a month later around 15 acres in between the two sites, giving him a land holding opposite today’s park and MOTAT of 110 acres. He may have started building the 17-room stone house around 1858, two years after one of his children was born. Certainly by September that year he put his Rosebank Peninsula farm on the market, and in April 1859 applied for a new license for his “Northern Hotel” on “Cabbage Tree Swamp-road”. His was the only new application to succeed that year. The advertising campaign for his “large and commodious Scoria Inn” began in earnest from July 1859, offering well-enclosed paddocks for horses and cattle, and “wines and other liquors of the best quality.” At the time, apart from what scattering of buildings may have existed on the Arch Hill-Surrey Crescent ridge, and the flour mill run by Low and Motion over to the north-east at Old Mill Road, Edgcombe’s hotel was the only significant structure along the Great North Road from what would become Grey Lynn to Waterview. 

Due to the fact that it was such a substantial, landmark structure, from 1859 through to the 1880s the Northern Hotel was the location chosen for community meetings, from political get-togethers to choose candidates for provincial council elections, through to ratepayers meetings over the issues of road board boundaries (first Mt Albert in the late 1860s, then Arch Hill in the early 1870s, and finally Pt Chevalier from 1874) and general matters of concern in the area. Its proximity to the military target range and camp site leading toward Meola Reef, and the barracks on the Point Chevalier peninsula itself, meant that the Northern Hotel would also be closely associated with both the militia troops during the Waikato War of the early 1860s, and local volunteer corps formed in the 1870s.

In December 1864, Edgcombe transferred the licence to Jeremiah Bainbridge, who had another business as a carter. Around the same time as he was taking over the hotel, Bainbridge was in court over trouble with carting rejected bricks that had been made by John Thomas (of Star Mill fame) from the Asylum to Newton. His lease with Edgcombe expired in November 1866, and Edgcombe reassumed management of the hotel. 

James and Sarah Ann Woodward lived somewhere close to William Edgcombe’s hotel, at Western Springs. In July 1868, a scuffle between James and Sarah, and an old woman named Mary Cameron at Edgcombe’s hotel ended up in the courts. The case was dropped, but the judge warned all parties against such behaviour in future. 

Edgcombe and a number of his neighbours, it was a meeting place for the movement that, at first, set up the replacement Arch Hill Highway District from 1871 (taking in the hotel and Point Chevalier land south of Great North Road), then with a further shift of boundaries the Point Chevalier Highway District from 1874.

In 1871, the hotel was still surrounded by mainly open spaces. Edgcombe thus probably thought that letting his customers have a drink on the premises on a Sunday wouldn’t do any harm. That was, until Mary White went looking for her husband, and found him at the hotel, “lying on a form,” obviously the worse for wear. She went up to Edgcombe’s bar, ordered a glass of wine, paid for it, then “I drank the wine purposely to lay an information against [Edgcombe].” The following month, the court took a very dim view of this breach of the licensing act, Mary White further testifying that she’d begged Edgcombe not to sell her husband any drink. Edgcombe was fined £20. This led, in turn, to his licence not being renewed the following year. Edgcombe protested, saying that White’s action against him had been done “out of spite”, but the committee would not reverse their decision. 

Edgcombe’s licence became a cause célèbre in the district. Opinions were expressed in the newspapers that closing the hotel down was a blow against the working man, and that there was an additional injustice in both cutting off the income of the ageing William Edgcombe, and sharply reducing the value of his land. Two-thirds of the adult population of the Arch Hill district signed a petition calling for the ruling to be reversed. Another petition of 300 signatures, included the names of those who were members of Parliament and the Auckland Provincial Council at the time. The Arch Hill Board also added that, they needed the hotel for their public meetings, but now faced the dilemma of not being able to do so if the hotel was no longer a public house. At the review in June 1872, Edgcombe’s licence was restored. 

His son 19 year old William had an experience of the exotic natural history kind at the hotel, one night in 1873, according to the Southern Cross, and previously referred in an earlier article: 

“Strange bedfellows are sometimes met with. This was exemplified the other night in the Northern Hotel. A son of Mr Edgecombe, the proprietor, went to bed as usual in the upper story— three stairs up— but during the night, or early in the morning he was awakened by more than ordinary warmth on one side of his head and near his throat. He felt something unusual beside him and was slightly alarmed. However he got up and lighted a candle. On examining the bed he discovered an opossum lying coiled up in the bed, under the bed clothes. This is the first occasion on which such an animal has been seen in the neighbourhood, and how it got there is at present a mystery. Some time ago, however, an animal having the appearance of a cross between an opossum and some other animal was shot amongst the scoria rocks near Mr Edgecombe's hotel. Some people entertain the idea that opossums exist in the locality in a wild state, but this has not yet been proved. The animal was captured, and is being well cared for by Mr Edgecombe. The family were once of opinion that the opossum found in bed may have been the one belonging to the Acclimatisation Society's gardens, but it is stated that they have since learned that such is not the case, and the whence of the opossum at Mr. Edgecombe's hotel still remains to be answered.” 

It was while Curnow had the hotel that it began to be called the “Stone Jug.” There are a few stories that have floated around since the 1880s about the origin of the name, some pointing out that they were sure it was linked to an actual jug made of stone at the hotel, or linked somehow with the militia from the 1860s dubbing it so. The thing is, though – “Stone Jug” in terms of the Northern Hotel only appeared in the newspapers from mid 1881, pointing instead to it being an unofficial name Curnow had devised. He still advertised the hotel as the Northern in September that year, but two months later, came notices referring to the “Stone Jug Yards” around the Northern Hotel. Popular and common use of “Stone Jug” or “Old Stone Jug” were not far off from that point. 

What of the name, then? Well, “stone jug” was slang at the time for Mt Eden Gaol, also built of stone as was the hotel. There is a possibility that a similarity between the two structures may have struck someone’s fancy. 

In late 1884, Edgcombe came to an agreement with the Auckland City Council and sold his Western Springs property to them, including the hotel. The councillors were unaware that Curnow had an existing lease with Edgcombe with still another two years to run – so the council were, briefly, in the unusual and very much publically criticised position of owning the hotel as a going concern. Even so, the council voted to support Curnow’s licence renewal in 1886. By then though, with the rise of temperance movements, the licensing board felt the Northern Hotel, aka Old Stone Jug, was no longer required in the district. Edgcombe’s pub finally went dry, and stayed that way.

“Mount Edgcombe”, off Western Springs Road, in the 1960s. The library notes that it was demolished 1973. 

 255A-9, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections. 

The Madness of William Edgcombe

What of William Edgcombe himself?

In 1860 he seems to have entered the real estate field, acting as a leasing agent for landowners in Mt Albert, and in 1862 purchasing ground on the slopes of Ōwairaka / Te Ahi-kā-a-Rakataura / Mount Albert. He also had a large farm at Waiau Pa, near Clarks Beach. He hired an overseer for the farm named William Flinton in 1864, promising him a place to live on the property which turned out to be a sub-standard mud floor hovel. Flinton walked out, so Edgcombe tried taking him to court, but lost the case.

 One of those who testified on Flinton’s behalf was Henry Edgecombe, no relation of William’s. He arrived in New Zealand in January 1864, the same year as the Flinton case. He’d heard on arrival in Auckland that there was an Edgcombe running the Northern Hotel at Western Springs, so headed there to see if they were related. They weren’t, but William apparently “displayed some kindness towards him” and lent him a house in Mt Albert. Henry Edgecombe was there for some time with his three sons, from February to the end of April 1864, and then William tried to sell him 640 acres of land at Waiau, which Henry refused. At that point, things turned nasty, and William gave Henry notice to quit. When talking to a friend at the Mauku Hotel a little later, William described Henry as “a London prig”, a “swellsmobsman … a common thief, and liar …”

William Edgcombe was no stranger to using his tongue to have a go at people. In 1860, George Owen Ormsby accused Edgcombe of yelling abuse at him near the Symonds Street cemetery while out riding on the road there. In 1865, it appears Edgcombe turned on the newcomer Henry, “accusing him of having stolen some cooking utensils and tools, and killed his bullocks,” out at the Waiau, in response to Henry complaining, in Queen Street’s Duke of Marlborough Hotel, about William’s own cattle straying onto his land there. Henry had, after refusing William’s land, bought someone else’s smaller farm. Henry added that he felt William had killed some of Henry’s sheep. It seems that Henry purchased his land at Waiau Pa, he then took on Flinton as overseer, which probably didn’t go down too well with William. When Henry took William to court in June 1865 for slander, the judge and jury found in favour of Henry and fined William £20. William Edgcombe’s behaviour here could be seen as being spiteful, nasty, malicious and childishly petulant – but not exactly evidence of a deterioration in mental health.

He would have been around 51 years old at that stage, and perhaps drank more than he should have done at the various hotels where he seems to have conducted his business, including at his own establishment at Western Springs. He took over the Northern Hotel again in 1866, and continued putting ads in the newspapers regarding land dealings.

Here and there we get some scattered oddities about life in the Edgcombe household. A man named Christopher was taken into Edgcombe’s service in February 1872, at 15s a week plus food, after having been in the vicinity of the Northern Hotel working informally for Edgcombe “for several months previously” in return “for tucker”. He later told a court that he had cured “56 lbs of bacon” for Edgcombe, loaned William Jr £5 (for the Whau races) and gave the daughter Mary Jane £7 to buy a dress and a ring as he claimed “he was engaged to be married” to her. Young Mary denied this, saying the money was “for a Christmas box.” It appears Christopher damaged a strap, was fired by Edgcombe, and thus went to court to seek wages, and the two sums of money given to the brother and sister. In the end, he was awarded 10s for wages, the rest deemed unrecoverable.

In 1873, Edgcombe via an engineer named Peter Joseph Dalton made an offer to Auckland City Council to sell them the springs on his land, plus 10 acres, to serve as the new water supply. After considerable reluctance on Council’s part, this offer was eventually withdrawn the following year, and the Council went with purchasing William Motion’s property instead, setting up the collecting pond, pipework and pumphouse on that side of Great North Road. In response, Edgcombe said he’d sell his land to a wool scouring operation or a slaughterhouse, this risking contamination of the council water supply. He actually did sell part to the Auckland Tallow Company in 1882. This probably sparked Council to agree to buy the rest of Edgcombe’s land outright in 1884, giving Edgcombe a 999 year lease on 10 acres which became known as “Mount Edgcombe,” which was probably already his home since he finally gave up running the Northern Hotel in 1879. The Council bought the Tallow Company’s land as well, sorting that issue once and for all.

In February 1875, William Jr was almost brought up in court on a charge of threatening to kill his father. Three months later, Mary Jane Edgcombe, aged 63, died at the Northern Hotel.

In January 1876, William Jr was found guilty of assaulting his father. He tried to offer an explanation, but the court would not allow him to speak, other than to say he was guilty and that he was sorry. Edgcombe told the court his son William had “on several occasions attempted to strike him.” The son had to come up with £100 in sureties, and promised “to keep the peace for six months towards his father and all her Majesty’s subjects.”

In October 1877, William Jr again assaulted his father, on the Great North Road. He pleaded guilty, saying “he was drunk at the time, and did not know what he was doing.” He was fined 20s and costs, with the alternative being 14 days with hard labour, and again had to come up with £100 in sureties and a 6-month promise to keep the peace.

 In February 1879, William Edgcombe snr remarried, to Mary Tutty, widow of William Tutty of Remuera, and this may have led to him setting up his new home on the other side of his Western Springs property. In March 1879, his daughter Mary Jane married Walter Stimpson. But then his son William died at the Stimpson’s house two months later, and six months after that, his daughter Mary Jane was dead as well. William Edgcombe’s only two children who survived to adulthood were now both dead.

At the age of around 70, Edgcombe was facing increasing memory loss and senility. A grocer named Charles Campbell Godfrey Moore who had known Edgcombe since 1869 later testified that he considered him “feeble mentally and bodily” during the period of this second marriage, especially after a trip to England in 1886. John Bollard spoke of Edgcombe’s “intemperate habits” up to and including the period of his second marriage. A Dr George T Girdler who was a passenger on the Aorangi on the homeward bound journey with the Edgcombes that year later described William Edgcombe as “bright and collected in the mornings, but was sometimes stupid after lunch from drink.”

Job Humphries, a former warder at the Auckland Lunatic Asylum, felt that Edgcombe was “of unsound mind” in 1889, and became worse in 1891-1892. Samuel Finch, a neighbour of Edgcombe’s, said the latter “used to accuse people of stealing his things, and removing his walls, and taking his ground, and … suspected these were delusions … [Edgcombe] said the neighbours wanted to burn his house.”

In September 1883, William’s nephew George Edgcombe arrived in Auckland with his wife and family from America, their passage paid for by William. For a while, George Edgcombe stayed at a cottage owned by his uncle, working initially for him, and then for the Tallow Company. He later recalled in court that his uncle had told him “the Edgcombe farm was to be for 999 years in the Edgcombe family”, to be inherited by George’s father Roger and then himself, so he was likely talking about the 10 acre “Mount Edgcombe” remainder that Auckland City Council had leased to William Edgcombe. George also had the idea that the Pukekohe land his uncle William owned would be inherited by himself as well, and for his children. But then, George’s wife died in January 1890, and seven days later his daughter Ann Laura was committed to the Industrial School. Three younger children were sent to the Costley Home, but their father didn’t contribute toward their upkeep, by his own words. This situation apparently did not sit very well with William Edgcombe, who had at least one violent row with George over the matter, and was struck by his nephew. In January 1893, George Edgcombe headed to Taranaki.

Edgcombe’s second wife Mary died in July 1890, aged 75, but in February 1891 he married wife number three, Flora Turnbull, 25 years his junior. In 1892 Edgcombe entered into his last contentious court case, this time against John Swinnerton Duke who had acted as Edgcombe’s rent collector for 18 houses Edgcombe owned on College Hill in 1891, then leased them from Edgcombe in 1892. Duke didn’t keep up with the terms of the lease – paying the rent, and putting the houses into good repair – so the lease was terminated.

Before June 1891, Edgcombe used James P King as his business agent, but after that point the responsibility passed to Flora. Six months after her marriage, Flora later testified that she noticed a difference in her husband, that “he was not so bright or capable as he used to be … He was short of memory, and very irritable.” Over the next year, Flora said, Edgcombe’s memory gradually faded, and his behaviour began to become erratic. “In 1892 Mr Dawson, coal merchant, used to keep his horse in Mr Edgcombe’s paddock, a person named Mitchell bringing it on Saturday night and taking it away on Monday morning. On the last occasion when Mitchell took the horse away, Mr Edgcombe hearing a noise about five o’clock in the morning went out to the balcony and fired off a revolver, being under the impression that Mitchell was a burglar.” Edgcombe told Flora afterwards that Mitchell had no right to be there, but Flora reminded him that Mitchell had collected the horse many times before.

In August 1892, Edgcombe made out the last version of his will, stating that he was, of course, of sound mind and body. This replaced an earlier will from March 1890. Flora later said “he was in the same state he had been for some time previous – forgetful, and a falling away of business capacity – and he changed his mind two or three times about the terms of the will …” Still, Flora attested that “when they reached Mr Burton’s [the solicitor] office, her husband gave instructions to have a will made … he was entirely uninfluenced by any person there.” J P King apparently felt Edgcombe wasn’t in a good state to make the will, however. In response, Edgcombe arranged for a certificate from Dr Arthur G Purchas to the contrary.

Thomas Faulder who lived nearby and had known Edgcombe for 30 years, said that around the time Edgcombe made his will, he’d met up with Faulder but seemed unable to identify him until Faulder provided his own name. According to Faulder, Edgcombe often confided that he was sure he was being poisoned by his second wife. After June 1893, Edgcombe told Faulder he thought Flora was poisoning him as well.

Edgcombe attended the October 1892 jubilee of Scottish settlers in Auckland who had arrived on the Jane Gifford and the Duchess of Argyle in 1842, but the festivities included those who were New Zealand colonists of 50 years or more. Edgcombe more or less did fit the bill. So, he had his photo taken with the rest (including John Logan Campbell) on the steps of the Old Choral Hall in Symonds Street, and a pen and ink portrait appeared in the NZ Graphic.

In June 1893, Edgcombe had a bad accident when he was thrown from out of his trap at Western Springs after his horse bolted. His right arm was dislocated, his nose broken, and he suffered a wound to his temple. This incident seemed to have accelerated Edgcombe’s decline.

In October 1893, Flora applied to have effective power of attorney, with John Bollard, over William Edgcombe’s affairs, citing mental incapacity. At the time, he held an estate valued at over £9000. Edgcombe was judged a lunatic, and Bollard was authorised to approve expenditure of up to £6 per week to maintain Edgcombe, his household, and the wages of Edward Hughes, a retired police detective who then worked in the household as Edgcombe’s manservant, “employed to take care of the said Lunatic” as the judge described it. Apparently Hughes came to work for the Edgcombes after Edgcombe started to accuse Flora of poisoning him. Hughes had been made redundant from his job with the police before November 1892, and was employed at Mount Edgcombe from 15 August 1893.

Flora described William Edgcombe as “now perfectly childish and unable to transact or undertake any business whatever.” She stated that he “manifests unsoundness of mind by a supposition on his part that persons are present in his room who are not there; that people obtain ingress and egress from his house by secret doors and passages which he alleges that I have caused to be made and which do not in reality exist; that the manservant at my instigation did by some means cause the said accident in order that I might elope with the said manservant in the San Francisco mail steamer; that I am in the habit of encouraging male persons to visit his house and of admitting them and letting them depart by secret entrances …” Flora went on: “… William Edgcombe exhibited a more violent outbreak than usual by picking up a grate and therewith breaking two windows in the dining room situated on the ground floor of his said house and further breaking one window on the first floor … two days after the last … the said William Edgcombe remembered nothing of the said occurrence.”

On December 7 1895, William Edgcombe died at his Western Springs home, aged, by his reckoning, 85. His will was probated on 17 December, and his death was officially registered on 6 January 1896, with cause of death given as “senile decay”. In his will, Edgcombe’s estate was divided between certain members of his family living in England and his wife Flora, so the process of selling his real estate portfolio began in earnest in May 1896, including the College Hill property, two houses in Grey Lynn, around 209 acres at Pukekohe, and land in Hamilton.

Then, in June 1896, his nephew George Edgcombe from Taranaki registered a legal challenge to the August 1892 will and against Flora Edgcombe, John Bollard and Grace Larkworthy (one of the English heirs), on the grounds that William Edgcombe had not been “of sound mind” when he had it made out. George had not been the only relative left out of the will, but he was one with an ax to grind.

The case came down to whether Edgcombe’s senile dementia had been with him from around 1890, or had simply been oncoming senility before the 1893 accident, at which point full-blown dementia, along with paranoia and delusions, set in. After 27 witnesses were called over six days, the judge summed up the case for the jury from 10 am until 2.45 pm on 7 July. The jury came back 45 minutes later with a verdict for the trustees. George Edgcombe tried claiming costs for his case from the estate, his lawyer contending William Edgcombe’s conduct caused the whole court proceedings to take place. This application was refused. He wasn’t alone – Larkworthy, Bollard and Flora Edgcombe all claimed legal costs from the estate as well, as George Edgcombe was unlikely to pay up.

Location of the Mt Edgcombe homestead, Western Springs Road, 1959. Auckland Council aerial.

Flora lived out her days at Mount Edgcombe, dying in 1907. In her will, she set aside £30 for the upkeep and maintenance of the Edgcombe family grave at Symonds Street, which still exists today. The Mount Edgcombe homestead was leased to members of the Riordan family through to the mid 20th century, and the site sold by Auckland City Council, along with the rest of the 10 acres there beside Western Springs Road, in the 1960s.

As for Edgcombe's Northern Hotel, its story from 1886 was that of a series of temporary leases. Samuel Meekan had use of the 100 acres (the other 10 acres was leased to Edgcombe on a 999 year agreement). By the 1900s, the old building was mostly empty, the grounds used for occasional and illegal games of “two-up” by locals. Briefly, a chemist leased it as a chemical factory in the 1920s, and made much of making a historical feature of the interior. But, that didn’t last long. In 1938 Auckland City Council demolished it, as part of their redevelopment of the precinct. Only some of the stones with which it was built remain, as a gateway, and as part of the base of the Horticultural Society building (the former Chamberlain Park golf course rooms).

Demolition of the Northern Hotel / Old Stone Jug in progress, from NZ Herald 24 November 1938.

The only traces that remain of William Edgcombe and his settler's tale are articles like this, for with even the old Stone Jug/Northern Hotel erased, its constituent parts reassembled as a parody of what was there before in the form of the stone gateway — who really gives him much of a thought? As his sanity sadly dwindled away from him, so the memory of the man now fades away into history.

“The Hairbreadth Train Affair” at Otahuhu, 1911 – the heroism of Francis Arthur Claude

On the southern side of Portage Road in Otahuhu, around number 130, the Auckland Saleyards Company used to have their stock pens from the 1910s. In April 1911, their on-site manager was Francis Arthur Claude, living in a house alongside the stockyards with his wife Susan Ursula and two young children, Frances Jeanette born 1907 and Lorraine born in 1908. 

On the evening of 17 April that year, Easter Monday, a passenger train from Auckland to Otahuhu arrived at the latter station at 9.28pm. The Main Trunk Express left Auckland at 9.15, so to get out of the way the Otahuhu train was shunted onto a siding. That night, the express had 600 passengers, including the Governor Lord Islington. His special carriage was directly behind the engine of the express. Once the overland express had passed through, the Otahuhu local train was meant to be put back on the main line, to start its return journey at 9.43 pm. But that evening, things went awry. 

The engine was uncoupled from the carriages during the side-lining, the intent being for it to be moved to the other end for the return journey. But, with the grade northward from Otahuhu being quite considerable, the four carriages and a van broke away and started to roll back down the main line, into the path of the oncoming mainline express train. 

The staff at the engine left behind vigorously blew the engine’s whistle, hoping to attract the attention of the driver of the express and alert him to the danger. The whistles did get the attention of Claude, from his Portage Road office. 

In course of conversation with a "Star" representative this morning, Mr Claude told an interesting.story. Shortly before 10 o'clock, While writing in his office at Westfield, which is near the railway siding, he heard three distress whistles, which in the railway service denotes danger, and the need for putting-brakes on. The sky was overcast and cloudy, the moon being quite hidden, but it did not take Mr Claude long to grasp the position. His work at the saleyards brings him into daily contact with stock trucking operations at the Westfield siding, and one glance sufficed to show that two trains were running towards each other on the one line. 

“At Westfield there are two down grades — one from Otahuhu and one from Penrose, and down both were coming brightly lit passenger trains. The express was travelling at 20 miles an hour, and the runaway carriages at about eight miles an hour. Unless something happened to prevent a collision the two trains would meet in the vicinity of the city abattoir gate. At this time the express was less than half-a-mile away, and the intended passenger cars only 100 yards away from where Mr. Claude stood.
“With remarkable presence of mind Mr Claude ran from his office on to the railroad track, [some reports said he vaulted over a number of paddock fences in doing so] and then jumped on to the van as the runaway cars flashed past. His knowledge of the stock-trucking business standing him in good stead, he at once applied the Westinghouse brake, and brought the cars to a standstill.
“Jumping out again he seized flaring red lights off the back of the van, and rushing up to the windows of the other carriages, told two passengers who were on board of their danger. Their surprise was genuine. The two travellers in question had taken tickets for Auckland, and had not had the slightest idea that there was no engine on the train, but believed they were making the ordinary journey back to the city. Speedily disillusioned on this point, they lost no time in quitting their seats.
“Meantime Mr Claude had run on about 20 yards ahead, flashing the red light as he ran, and the express was brought to a standstill within two chains of the stationary carriages. Without Mr Claude's intervention, another two minutes would have sufficed to bring about a collision, and had the driver of the express been fortunate enough to have seen his danger and stop his train, there would still have been nothing to prevent the runaway cars crashing into the express, whether that train happened to be travelling or stationary. Only Mr Claude's prompt action averted that accident. Had the two trains been in motion and collided at this point, there was a fairly steep embankment on one side over which they would probably have toppled, and a big railway smash would have had to be recorded. "I have no wish to appear prominently before the public in regard to this incident,” modestly remarked Mr Claude, "but l am convinced that had I not been in the vicinity of Westfield siding, and luckily possessed of a knowledge of how to work the Westinghouse brake, there would certainly have been a terrible accident." 

 (Auckland Star 19 April 1911 p.5) 

The express was then used to shunt the van and carriages of the other train back up to Otahuhu, before continuing on, delayed by half an hour. The railway department instituted an inquiry and immediately suspended three staff members. The guard on the Otahuhu train was reduced in rank, but the other two staff members were exonerated. The inquiry also found that the driver of the express had spotted the runaway carriages before Claude waved the red light, so awarded that driver a £10 bonus “for keeping a good look-out.” The railway officials were apparently none too happy with Claude, though. 

“I am told that Mr Claude, who saved the Wellington express from coming to grief near Otahuhu, while complimented by by the railway authorities for his promptitude and judgement, was solemnly warned that his action was quite contrary to the rules and regulations of the railway service, which distinctly prohibited any interference with brakes by other than officials, as such interference was calculated to lead to accidents! This reminds me of the story of the railway company which, in learning that it was likely to be sued for damages by a passenger who had fallen from a moving train owing to a defective lock on one of the carriage doors, promptly took proceedings against him for infringing one of its by-laws by leaving a train while in motion!” 

(NZ Herald 29 April 1911)

The Otahuhu incident made headlines around the country, Wellington’s Dominion newspaper for example calling it “The Hairbreadth Train Affair.” A letter was sent from Lord Islington, amongst many others from the passengers who had been saved that night: 

“It was not until this morning that I was placed in possession of the facts in connection with the providential escape from a serious accident that I and my fellow passengers 'had on Monday night during our journey on the Main Trunk express, and that escape was due to the courage, decision and presence of mind displayed in so singular a manner by the action you took on the occasion thus averting what in all probability would have been a very serious accident. I desire on my own behalf, and those of my staff who accompanied me, to tender to you our expression of deep appreciation and gratitude for the splendid service you rendered us, together with all the other occupants of the train, by your prompt and masterly action. As my car on the occasion happened to be next to the engine I feel particularly indebted to you for your invaluable services.”

(NZ Times 22 April 1911, p. 1) 

Donations were left at the office of the Auckland Star for a testimonial for Claude, in recognition of his heroism. The Government did present him with £50. 

But then, Claude fell dangerously ill with pleurisy and was reported to be in Auckland Hospital on 1 June. Lord Islington made a personal visit to him at the hospital, but Francis Arthur Claude died on 13 June 1911. 

“Mr Francis Arthur Claude, whose pluck and promptitude saved the Southern-bound Main Trunk express from disaster at Otahuhu on Easter Monday, passed away at the District Hospital last evening at the early age of 33 years, after suffering for several weeks from a severe attack of pleurisy. Mr Claude's action in boarding the runaway train at imminent risk and averting a catastrophe by applying the Westinghouse brake will not soon be forgotten, as but for his courage and promptitude the consequences would almost certainly have marked a black day indeed in the railway history of this Dominion. The Government presented him with a cheque for £50. Among the passengers on the express was the Governor (Lord Islington) who has made frequent inquiries as to the condition of Mr Claude since his admission to the Hospital. The consequences to the health of Mr Claude were however, serious, and his medical attendants consider that the shock to his system from the trying ordeal through which he passed that night has contributed largely to his early demise. So fixed had the incident become in his mind, in fact, that he repeatedly referred to it in his delirium. The deceased leaves a widow and two young children.” 

(Auckland Star 14 June 1911, p. 8) 

“The funeral of the late Mr Francis Arthur Claude took place yesterday afternoon, the interment being made at the Otahuhu cemetery. Widespread interest had been excited by Mr Claude's action in preventing a collision between the Main Trunk express and a runaway train on the evening of Easter Monday, and general sympathy was felt for him when he was seized by the illness which terminated in his death. The gathering at the funeral yesterday was a very large one, many people whose admiration had been awakened by Mr Claude's gallant action joining with the large number of his friends in the last marks of respect to the deceased.
"About 150 wreaths were sent, among them being a beautiful one sent by His Excellency the Governor (Lord Islington), who was a passenger on the train which Mr Claude saved from disaster. The employees of Buckland's saleyards, at which Mr Claude was latterly employed sent a wreath, and artificial wreaths were sent by the employees of Messrs Kemphome and Prossor, among whom he formerly worked, and by the Masonic Lodge of Opotiki, of which he was a member. The service at the graveside was conducted by the Rev H Mason, of Olahuhu.”

(NZ Herald 16 June 1911, p. 6) 

With his passing, there were still heartfelt expressions of appreciation for Claude’s bravery. 

“Sir, Now that Mr Claude, whose brave action prevented loss of life and serious injury to many passengers, also damage, the extent of which it is impossible to calculate, has passed away, there is a chance for the Government to redeem itself by making a rightful and generous acknowledgment that will put his widow and family on a secure footing for the future. If the runaway had not been stopped, what chance would the driver of the express have had to stop his heavy train travelling at a good speed, and reversing in time to avoid the collision? Very little, and it is safe to assert that £50 would be like a drop in the ocean in comparison to the amount the damage would have run into. Another suggestion, either for the public of Auckland or for the Government to take into consideration, is the erection of a suitable monument to set forth the record of his gallant deed, thus providing that the memory of the event would be kept alive, for ail example to others of what a man should do. Waitemata. 

"Sir, —My sympathy goes out just now to the widow and family of Mr Claude. If there had been something of a sensation connected with his deed we should have had a wave of enthusiasm, as in other sensational cases. He cared for others, and let self go. Let us look after his wife and children.
H Mason. Eden Terrace."

(NZ Herald 22 June 1911) 

Susan Claude did petition Parliament for a compassionate allowance in August 1911, joined by a petition in support by local residents. The petition was supported by MPs Albert Glover (Auckland Central), Frederic William Lang (Manukau), and Charles Poole (Auckland West). William Massey, the Leader of the Opposition, was quite sympathetic as well. The Minister of Railways, though, John Andrew Millar, was not a supporter of the cause when it was considered by Parliament on 2 September. 

“The Hon Mr Millar said that although he did not want to detract from what was certainly a very meritorious deed he wished to correct the wrong impression that Mr Claude saved the express. Had Mr Claude never been there no collision would have occurred, as the runaway train was already slowing down on an up-grade, while the engine-driver of the express was aware of the position, and had his train well in hand. The Minister remarked that the fact of Mr Claude being able to leave his house, run across, and jump two gates and then catch the runaway train showed that the pace could not have been very terrific … "It is not the business of the Government to give compassionate allowances to every widow whose husband dies under natural causes. Claude died of pleurisy, and there is not a tittle of evidence that what he did contributed directly or indirectly to his death. The doctor said in all probability it contributed, but there is no evidence that it did." 

(NZ Herald 2 September 1911 p. 8)

This statement caused Rev Harry Mason from Otahuhu to react. Millar’s statement that Claud’s actions had little to no bearing on the incident were: 

“ … refuted by the Rev H Mason, of Otahuhu, who has been collecting evidence to show that the Minister of Railways had been misinformed of the circumstances. The facts in Mr Mason's possession clearly show that the runaway train had mounted the upgrade at a considerable pace as the result of the impetus gained in its long downhill run from Otahuhu to Westfield. It was within a few yards of the rise when the late Mr Claude jumped aboard, and it was about to commence descent of another down grade when he applied the Westinghouse brake. The rate at which the train was travelling, states Mr Mason, is proved by the fact that the shock was sudden enough to throw Mr Claude off on to the ground, his clothing being cut about through his fall. The train was brought to a standstill, however, and Mr Claude, seizing a tail-light from the guard's van, ran towards the express waving it wildly, and just before his death in the hospital he informed Mr Mason that he was so afraid of not attracting the driver's attention that he was about to throw the lamp at the engine and jump clear of the rails when he heard the brakes put on. A bystander who witnessed the whole affair has also informed Mr Mason, that he heard the driver, when he got down off the engine of the express, say, "What have you stopped the train for?" 

“Mr. Mason adds that he is quite convinced that the episode hastened Mr Claude's death, and even in his delirium in the hospital just before the end he was raving excitedly about the danger of the collision and his endeavour to avert it. 

"Mr Peter Wyatt, of Paparata, Bombay, is one of those who supplied Mr. Mason with evidence bearing on the case. He writes as follows; "I consider Mr Millar's statement in the House robs Mr Claude's action of the merit it deserves. I heard the danger whistles from the engine of the runaway train, and when I got down on to the track at Westfield I found Mr Claude had stopped the runaway train within a chain of the next downgrade. Just after I arrived the driver of the express pulled his train up and got down off his engine. There were two passengers on the runaway train, and it would be a good thing to get them to come forward and give their version of what occurred."

(Dominion 16 September 1911, p. 4)

In the end, Parliament gave Susan Claude an additional £100 grant in October 1911 “for the services of her late husband.” 

Susan Ursula Claude died 6 August 1930, aged 50. One of the Claude daughters, Lorraine, predeceased her, dying 22 November 1925, aged just 17 years. Francis Arthur, Susan Ursula and Lorraine are all remembered by a simple plaque at the Holy Trinity Memorial Park (formerly Anglican cemetery) in Otahuhu.

When a rusty pistol fired once -- the death of William John Turner, 1945

SCHOOLBOY SHOT 

PLAYING WITH PISTOL 

OLD RUSTY WEAPON 

NOT AWARE OF DANGER 

"It is disturbing that any boy of secondary school age should ever point a weapon, but I am astounded that the fool hazard of spinning the magazine should be tried out," said the city coroner, Mr A Addison, when closing an inquest yesterday into the death of William John Turner, aged 14, son of Mr W A Turner, of 67 Marsden Avenue, Mount Eden. The boy died from a gunshot wound in the head shortly after an incident at the Domain in which he was seen by two schoolboy companions to take out a revolver, spin the chamber, point it at his temple and pull the trigger. 

Evidence was given by Cyril James Gordon, a delivery boy, that about the beginning of September he climbed through a manhole in the wash-house at his home and found an old rusty revolver lying on the ceiling. He did not know who owned it and did not inform his parents of his discovery. A few days later deceased called at his home to see the weapon and witness showed it to him. As they were going away to play he placed it in the letter box at the gate. When he went back in the evening the revolver was missing. A few days later he saw deceased with it at the Peary Road park, and agreed to let him have it a little longer. 

Walter Raymond Brown, a pupil of the Seddon Memorial Technical College, said he procured a partly-filled box of .22 calibre ammunition from another boy at school to go rabbit shooting at Huapai. While witness was acting as a platoon sergeant in charge of a squad of college cadets on parade at the Outer Domain, deceased, who was in the squad, showed him a revolver he was carrying in his tunic. When witness said he had a box of .22 cartridges, deceased kept pestering him for some of the ammunition. After the parade was dismissed witness gave him two rounds. He did not think they would fit the revolver. 

Another pupil at the Seddon Memorial Technical College, John Walker Watson, said that on one occasion just after school had finished he was with deceased at the corner of Wellesley and Symonds Streets, when deceased took a revolver out of his school-bag and put a live cartridge in the cylinder. He spun the cylinder round and placed the end of the barrel on his right temple, saying, "I am going to shoot myself." He then pulled the trigger, but the revolver just clicked on an empty chamber. "He did this about three times altogether, spinning the chamber, putting the revolver to his temple and pulling the trigger," witness continued. "He told me that, even if the hammer hit the bullet, it would not go off, as the bullet was short, and a long one was required. After doing this, deceased pointed the revolver at several other boys and pulled the trigger. The revolver clicked, but nothing happened." 

Brian Edward Page, also a pupil of the Seddon Memorial Technical College, said that he attended a parade held by the, school cadets in the Domain. After the parade was dismissed, he and another boy, Robert Seath, were walking toward the hospital when they were joined by deceased. On reaching the Inner Domain, deceased pulled a revolver from inside his tunic and said: "Watch me." He then spun the cylinder of the revolver and pointed it to his head. There was an explosion and deceased fell to the ground. Witness saw blood streaming from his head. "Prior to the shooting, deceased was in a good humour," witness added. "He was smiling when he drew the revolver. I do not think that he intended to shoot himself. I think that he was just fooling and was showing off. He never mentioned to me that he intended to take his life." 

Ernest Cyril Wooller, a master at the Seddon Memorial Technical College, said he held the rank of major in the Territorial Force. On Wednesday, September 26, he was in command of a parade of about 800 college cadets in the Outer Domain. It consisted mostly of footdrill and some weapon training with .303 rifles and Bren guns. No live ammunition was issued to any of the boys. He knew nothing about deceased having a revolver either at school or at the parade and was unaware of the accident until the next day. 

In a report on the revolver and ammunition, Gregory G Kelly, an arms expert attached to police headquarters in Wellington, said the weapon used by deceased was a .22 calibre double action revolver of seven cartridge capacity. It was old and decrepit. The mainspring was apt to slip out of place and when this occurred the hammer had a poor blow, One might snap the hammer dozens of times on live ammunition without firing a shot. It would seem that it was a misfortune that the blow which discharged the fatal shell was struck at the time the boy pointed the weapon at himself, continued the report. This was the 19th case reported this year in which minors had been killed or injured through unskillful or careless handling of firearms. 

"The evidence gives a very complete story of the tragedy and the circumstances leading up to the fatal culmination," said the coroner. "It shows that deceased had been making very dangerous play with the weapon and I am justified in drawing the conclusion that as a result of his experiments and inexperience he had formed the opinion that the revolver would not discharge with the mere action of snapping the hammer. "It may be that this is the result of those trashy thrillers seen, read and heard by boys with a thirst for sensationalism", he continued. Nothing could be said against the college authorities. 

Every one present in the Court would appreciate the amount of investigation and helpful work done by the police in bringing to light the full circumstances of the boy's death. He was satisfied that deceased did not intend to kill himself. The coroner returned a verdict that the cause of death was a gunshot wound in the head unintentionally self-inflicted by deceased. 

(NZ Herald 22 November 1945) 

Peace bonfires on Mount Eden, 1919

"Showing a bonfire on Mount Eden for the peace celebrations at the end of the First World War," 19 July 1919. 

Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 4-1515C

Above is the second bonfire arranged on the maunga for the peace celebrations. The Mt Eden Borough Council decided in May to spend £100 building a pyre beside the trig station, using bits of gorse etc cut from road clearing operations in the borough. All heck broke loose in the letters columns of the newspapers, criticising the council for effectively proposing to burn such a lot of money, a "wicked waste" and "a useless sin." 

The Mayor defended the decision, saying that the £100 would be defrayed by contributions from the Peace Committee's general funds, but the criticism kept up. On 16 June, it was reported: 

"... the forthcoming peace celebrations is now well in hand. The engineer to the Mount Eden Borough Council, Mr J Rogers, tabled a plan at the meeting of the council last evening showing that the fire column which is octagonal in shape, is 90ft in height and 30ft in diameter. He explained that the column would be lighted from the top in order that it might burn longer, and eight effigies, seven of prominent Germans and one of a Bulgarian, would be hung at the sides, about two-thirds of the way up. These would represent the Kaiser, the Crown Prince Hindenburg, Ludendorff, Von Mackensen, Von Tirpitz, Von Bissing, and King Ferdinand." 

NZ Herald, 17 June 1919 

 On the night of 22 June 1919, however, "mischief makers" set fire to it well ahead of schedule.

"From the summit the spectacle of the blazing pile was a very imposing one. The bonfire had been built within a circle of eight pine saplings, 100 ft high, firmly planted in the ground on the highest point of the mountain. Inside this circle were stacked pine boughs, gorse, fern, and other inflammable matter. Twenty barrels of tar were placed in the centre and large quantities of kauri gum "screenings" were deposited in different parts of the structure. In the centre was a circular draught hole wherein was placed a ladder, to be used for the lighting of the peace beacon. "At first the flames, were confined to one side but with a sudden change of wind to the south-west the entire stack became enveloped. Soon the lowest platform, erected 3ft from the ground in order to create a draught, gave way and the entire upper portion fell with a heavy crash, accompanied by the crackling of the pine boughs, and a faint hissing as the flames penetrated to the barrels of tar. Tongues of fire ran up the sides, and at about 9 pm the bonfire looked not unlike a lofty tower in flames. On one side showers of sparks were borne down with heavy clouds of smoke into the darkness below; on the other lay the mountain crater filled with strange shadows and overcast with a dull smoky glare. Crowds of spectators watched the burning of the pile, some apparently a little disappointed at the premature lighting of the fire, others cheering lustily or shrieking wildly as each support fell sending up a shower of sparks. At 10 pm rain fell, and at midnight nothing remained but a ring of blackened poles, a heap of embers, and a cloud of slowly rising steam." 

NZ Herald 23 June 1919

Some viewing the beacon's premature immolation thought the peace agreement had already been signed in Paris. Uh, no ... 

 Rumours flew around Auckland as to the culprits ...

"The Mount Eden bonfire appears to be getting on the nerves of its promoters. How else can one account for the suggestion that it was lit prematurely by pro-Germans? Why not carry the theory further and suggest that it was started by a German who had received a wireless message about the sinking of the battleships at Scapa Flow? Or why not blame the Bolsheviks, anybody but the bright-eyed Auckland boy or boys who did the deed! Certainly the youthful incendiarist was not pro-German, he was just a healthy New Zealander with a normal instinct of patriotism. He thought he would make sure of a celebration that night, and was relying upon the pride of the Peace Celebration Committee to give him an encore at the right time. The committee has gracefully decided not to disappoint him." 

NZ Herald, 28 June 1919 

So, they rebuilt the pyre. Taking suitable precautions ...

"FORTIFIED!
THE MOUNT EDEN BONFIRE.
 PYRE PROTECTED AGAINST INCENDIARIES.
The Mount Eden bonfire is in course of re-erection, and raiding parties, whether they be larrikins or pro-Germans, will this time make a descent — or rather an ascent—against a prepared foe if they should again hazard the adventure of kindling the blaze before the scheduled time. Elaborate defensive precautions have been taken, and the fortifications are now considered to be impregnable. Day and night guards are mounted, and constant vigil is kept over the stack and the inflammable ingredients with which it will be anointed.
For the accommodation of the sentries a temporary guardhouse has been erected, while around the bonfire itself has been built a high barbed-wire entanglement to baffle the invaders should the guards be surprised. In a position calculated to reveal the whereabouts of the enemy, no matter by what direction he approaches or flees, has been suspended a large light, so that any attack other than a strong fighting patrol is foredoomed to failure. Little short of a raid with incendiary bombs or bullets will rob the Auckland citizens of their peace pyre." 

Auckland Star, 15 July 1919 

 Did it finally come off as planned? Yep.

 "The main event for the public on Saturday evening was the bonfire on Mount Eden. The pile was surmounted by a sign-board bearing the word "Kultur," and the skull and cross-bones, and the construction involved so much work that it was only completed at three o'clock in the afternoon. The fire was lit from the top, and burned very slowly at first, but a continuous volume of dense smoke and showers of sparks made a pretty effect. In about twenty minutes the sign-board on the top caught alight, and this was the signal for a great outburst of cheering from the onlookers. Shortly afterwards the superstructure collapsed, and then the fire began to burn vigorously, lighting up the whole of Mount Eden and being visible for miles. The fire was still burning when most people went to bed."

NZ Herald, 22 July 1919