The Cardwell Street Murder, New Lynn, 1928

(left) 1st Viscount Cardwell, and (right) detail from 1865 map of New Lynn, 

NZ Map 4498-5, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections

In a period where Aucklanders increasingly felt the effects of the recession of the late 1920s, one which gave a taste of what the coming Great Depression would be like just two years later, a woman in West Auckland lost her life in a brutal fashion, and a street’s name became so infamous that petitions were organised to change it forever. 

The street was once Cardwell Street in New Lynn, originating from the 1865 subdivision of the north-eastern portion of Allotment 257, likely named in honour of Edward Cardwell, 1st Viscount Cardwell, Secretary of State for the Colonies 1864-1866. Into the 20th century, it was part of the residential area of New Lynn which, from the post World War II period would be dramatically transformed into the more familiar commercial and light industrial area we know today.

The woman who was murdered in this ordinary New Lynn neighbourhood was Ernestina Mary Norgrove née Henderson who was born in what was then known as Waitakere South, 28 October 1888, the second eldest child of six, to William Thomas Maddocks Henderson and his wife Ernestina Mary née Bock. Her father William was born in Aberdeen, 18 April 1864. His father in turn was also named William Thomas Maddocks Henderson, a master hatter who married the likely pregnant Agnes Bruce in Aberdeen, Scotland, in August 1863. Ernestina Mary Bock was born in New South Wales in 1867, daughter to William and Mary Bock. She married William Henderson 18 April 1885 in Auckland. 

Young Ernestina wasn’t even five years old when disaster struck the family on Friday 4 August 1893. Her father William, employed as a carter by an Onehunga shipping agent named Cunningham, was driving a heavy two-horse dray from Onehunga to Auckland via Parnell. For some reason, he was standing on the shaft of the dray. A wheel hit a rut in the road, and Henderson slipped off, falling to the ground. The dray’s wheel passed over him, crushing his ribs, which in turn punctured his lungs. He coughed blood all the way to the hospital, and died in the early hours of 5 August. 

The family had only recently shifted from where they had lived near Wasby’s Bush in the Waitakeres (near Nihotupu) into the city, living in Airedale Street at the time of the accident. William and Ernestina had five children at that point, the youngest fourteen months old, with Ernestina pregnant with number six; Annie Murdoch Henderson arrived into the world on the night of 5 August, the day her father died. The NZ Herald and Auckland Star both started fundraising subscription campaigns for the family. Goods were donated by grocers. Others gave clothing, as well as money. A special benefit concert was held on Sunday 13 August 1893 in the City Hall by the Suburban Popular Concert Company, under the auspices of the Mayor of Auckland William Crowther, as a fundraiser for the Hendersons. 

The family nearly had to split up. The Charitable Aid Board did consider the admission of four of the children, including the four-year-old Ernestina, into the Orphan Home in order for them to receive rations, but decided that Mrs Henderson and her children didn’t need the assistance, so the application was declined. 

Salvation though came from another source, when Ernestina Henderson married Terence Henderson (no relation to her late husband) on 9 February 1895. Terence was a labourer at the Chelsea Sugar Works near Birkenhead, and that’s where the family moved to. The youngest, Arthur (making the number of children seven), was born later that year. 

Into the new century, at some point the young 20 year old Ernestina met up with 23-year-old Clarence Norgrove, member of a well-known family involved with the butcher trade. She married him on 8 September 1909, just before she turned 21. In 1911 the couple were living at 20 Trinity Street, Herne Bay. Clarence likely worked for his uncle Charles, who had started his own business in 1896, first at Three Lamps in Ponsonby, before shifting to Richmond Road, Grey Lynn by 1907. In 1909, Charles Norgrove was established enough to run for political office, and stood for a seat on the Grey Lynn Borough Council that year. He won, and would remain on the Borough Council until 1913. He was made a Justice of the Peace in 1907, and retired from business in 1911. 

By 1914, Clarence Norgrove had found another job, working in New Lynn at the Binsted abattoir near the Whau Creek, today the site of Ken Maunder Park. Clarence and Ernestina relocated to Binsted’s Road. By that stage, the couple had had two children. Two years later, a fire at the slaughterhouse probably curtailed operations there, and Clarence found other work later, as a commercial driver, an echo of the occupation followed by Ernestina’s father. Three children more would be born during the family’s residence at New Lynn, with a move to Ward Street, the youngest born around 1924. 

Then, on 26 February 1925, Clarence died from pneumonia. He was only 38 years old. For the second time in her life, Ernestina was in a family cast into uncertainty and financial insecurity due to the death of the breadwinner – but this time, the risk was to her own welfare and that of her children. 

3 Cardwell Street, New Lynn. NZ Herald, 8 March 1928.

By 1928, Ernestina was living at 3 Cardwell Street, New Lynn, with her daughter Mavis aged 18 and son David William, aged 12. The younger three children were living in the Manurewa orphans home – unlike her mother, Ernestina had not been able to keep the family together, in the face of the recession. 

On 7 March that year, Ernestina Mary Norgrove was murdered. 

Articles of clothing checked later at the pathological department at Auckland Hospital were all stained with blood: a ladies dress, a man’s silk handkerchief, shirt, collar and tie. As well as a flat iron. 

Tranby House flat irons, 1800s. Photo by Gnangarra, via Wikipedia 

The 7th of March was to have been young Mavis’ wedding day. That morning at 6.30, Ernestina Norgrove left her house at 3 Cardwell Street, and headed across the road to No. 2, the Pirrit residence, where she did the washing for Mrs Frances May Pirrit. To help make ends meet, Ernestina did tasks like laundry for others. The night before, a pretty cinnamon-coloured dress had arrived at the Pirrits for Ernestina – while she was at their house, she pressed it. Mrs Pirritt left her house to travel to town at 10.30, and that was the last time she saw her neighbour alive. Mrs Pirrit saw the dress again, now blood-stained, once more at the inquest. 

According to Mavis, her mother headed into their house briefly to pick up some shoes and underclothing, before heading back to the Pirrits' to have a bath and put on the dress. Mavis headed off to have lunch with David at 11am, across the road at No. 3. 

While Mavis and David were there, Alan Norgrove turned up, demanding to know where Mavis and her husband-to-be were going to live, then demanding to know where Ernestina was. He told Mavis that her mother would not be going with them to the registry office. When Mavis protested that her mother had to go to the registry office, Norgrove then stated that he would come along, then bring Ernestina straight back home. After discussion around the wedding reception planned that evening at St Thomas’ Hall, where Norgrove apparently claimed Ernestina had deceived him, he then told Mavis to “get the hell out of it,” and she and David left the house. 

Olive White, another neighbour who lived at 1 Cardwell Street, watched Ernestina walk across the street just before noon, wearing the cinnamon-coloured dress, and carrying a pink hat. After Ernestina had gone back inside her house at 3 Cardwell Street, Mrs White heard raised voices. A window opened, and Mrs White saw Ernestina crying, then grasping the window ledge, as if she was trying to jump out and leave the house. Then Ernestina looked up, saw Mrs White watching, and let go of the ledge, backing away from the window and putting a hand up to her forehead. She said “I will,” twice, and from behind her saw Alan George Norgrove come into view. He said, “Well, I am going too.” Mrs White looked away – when she looked back, the window was closed. 

The next noise Mrs White heard was “a noise as if a chair was being pushed on the floor.” Then there came six “bumps” in succession, like muffled thuds. Some 15 to 20 minutes later, Mrs White saw Alan Norgrove leave the house, his hands in his trouser pockets, walking between No. 1 and No, 3 towards the road. 

Alan George Norgrove was 13 years younger than his brother Clarence, born in 1900, and lived at 13 Sussex Street, Grey Lynn with his father David and mother Martha. Like others in his family, he worked as a butcher at the time. From soon after Clarence’s death, he was a regular visitor at Ernestina’s home almost every weekend, and did share her bed. The couple’s relationship, though, was one blighted by domestic violence. Francis William George Postlewaight, who had known Clarence Norgrove, described at the inquest how one time Ernestina’s son David had fled the house, heading to where Postlewaight lived in nearby Binsted Road. 

When Postlewaight went over to investigate, he found Mavis hanging out of her bedroom window, and heard sounds “like someone was getting a hiding.” Ernestina was getting off the floor of another room, while Alan Norgrove “was trying to bash the door in to get to where Mavis was.” According to Mavis, the fight had started over Norgrove’s drunken demands that Ernestina return to town. When she said she couldn’t, she hadn’t the money, Norgrove punched her in the face, knocking her to the floor. He then pulled her up again, and punched her again, breaking her teeth. 

Postlewaight went round to the back, David in tow. Norgrove came out, and said to David, “I will kill you, you bastard.” He seemed intent on getting to David, but Postlewaight stopped him, asking what was going on, and telling him “not to fill the neighbours’ mouths.” Norgrove turned and asked Ernestina whether she was “his woman.” According to Postlewaight, she seemed disinclined to answer. 

Another quarrel, according to Mavis, had started over the wording Ernestina had penned for the memoriam she had sent to the Auckland Star for the third anniversary of Clarence’s death. It read: 

It isn’t known whether Ernestina would have seen the murder weapon, a flat iron, coming towards her face. There was a wound found on her right hand, two inches long, with an incised cut an inch long in the middle. On her face was a wound measuring three inches, from an inch above her right eyebrow, diagonally across to her left cheek. The wound gaped, so Dr Norman Douglas Watson Murray told the coroner’s inquest on examining her body. Shattered bone could be seen. The skull over the eyes was fractured, as was the right cheek bone. Blood issued from her right ear, which was bruised. Another large wound behind the ear measured 3 inches by 3½ inches. This wound had happened so violently, bone was missing due to being pushed into the brain. There was a star-shaped wound on the top of the skull, and another at the base of the head. Four distinct blows had led to fracture of the skull, laceration of the brain, and Ernestina’s death. Ernestina appears to have fallen against a chest of drawers – a corner had broken off, and was later found in a pool of blood. 

The flat iron, according to Mavis, was kept in the bathroom. Alan Norgrove, enraged that Ernestina had plans that day that did not include him, that Mavis was marrying Robert Firth with whom he’d already had arguments, seems to have gone into the bathroom, picked up the flat iron, then followed Ernestina into the bedroom, where he struck her and killed her. Then, in the quiet aftermath, he straightened the cinnamon-coloured dress she wore, and set the pink hat down neatly beside her, before heading to the living room, dropping the bloodied flat iron on a settee. Then, with front door locked and blinds drawn down, he made sure the back door was locked as he left, and walked away. 

Norgrove travelled by bus to Ponsonby where, around 12.45 pm, he went to the Ponsonby Police Station, and gave himself up, telling the officers there he had killed a woman in New Lynn with a flat iron, and produced the key to the back door. He was described as being sober and rational, but agitated, as he gave a statement which was typed out, and he then signed. While Norgrove was giving his statement at Ponsonby, Constable Jeremiah Horan from Avondale turned up at the house in Cardwell Street at 12.55pm, after receiving a call from the Detective Office, that had been informed by Ponsonby station. He broke in by smashing a pane of glass at the front door. 

Mavis and Robert George Firth married the following day. Given what had happened, she said later, she wanted to have the comfort of her husband during the time of grief. 

1928 Police Gazette

At the Supreme Court trial which began 14 May 1928, Alan Norgrove pleaded not guilty to the charge of wilful murder. His defence was that he was insane at the time he killed Ernestina Norgrove. His counsel told the court that his client had been “abnormal from his infancy … a child of melancholy and moody disposition, subject to occasional outbursts of violent and uncontrollable temper.” He had to leave work a year before. Several members of his family, the counsel went on, had been inmates of mental hospitals, and one still was an inmate. 

Dr Robert Martin Beattie, formerly in charge of the Auckland Mental Hospital, felt that Alan Norgrove wasn’t “normal,” and suffered from “mental instability”, especially over the course of the previous three years. Beattie contended that, while Norgrove knew what he was doing when he picked up the flat iron, through “dementia precos” (a now obsolete term for schizophrenia) he wasn’t aware of what he was doing when he hit Ernestina and kept hitting her head with the iron. Dr. Henry Mallock Prins who was superintendent of the Auckland Mental Hospital at the time of the trial, however, disagreed with Beattie’s diagnosis, and said that Norgrove was quite capable of knowing what he was doing when he struck Ernestina with the flatiron. It was revealed during Prins’ statements in court that Ernestina herself had once been an inmate in a mental hospital. Dr Henry Douglas Hayes of Porirua Mental Hospital and Dr Tom William James Childs from Tokonui Mental Hospital both agreed with Dr Prins. 

His brother David claimed that he’d had to carry Alan Norgrove to school for three years because of “nervousness”. He said that his brother had “strained his heart” twice, so had to leave work. It was revealed, however, that in 1924 Alan Norgrove had lost his temper in a billiard room, smashed a pane of glass, and was convicted and fined £3. 

On 15 May 1928, Alan George Norgrove was found guilty, and sentenced to hang. In summing up, the judge pointed out that it was clearly a case of a murder which was at the culmination of a quarrel, rather than an act of momentary insanity. However, after strenuous representations made to Prime Minister Gordon Coates – in that year, seeking re-election – Norgrove’s sentence was commuted to “imprisonment with hard labour for the term of his natural life.” In this way, Coates seems to have wanted to appease both families, with Ernestina’s own family campaigning for the death sentence to have remained in force. 

As it turned out, “term of his natural life” proved to be either rather shorter than some probably imagined, or with a different definition. Norgrove was out of prison by 1941, after just 12 years at most, featuring on an Army ballot that year, once again living at 13 Sussex Street. By 1949 he was living in Mangere as a laundryman, got married in 1956, and died 11 December 1990 at the age of 90, having outlived at least four of Ernestina’s orphaned children. 

NZ Truth, 19 July 1928

In July 1928, Ernestina’s brother-in-law Edward Buchanan received a phone call from David Norgrove demanding that Ernestina be exhumed and removed from beside his brother Clarence Norgrove’s grave at Waikumete Cemetery. According to Buchanan, himself a monumental mason, Ernestina had been trying desperately to save up enough money to buy the plot and pay for a headstone. But, it turned out, Clarence’s plot had been purchased by the Norgroves in the intervening years between his death and hers, and so they now demanded that her body be removed. By August, after some hue and cry by the NZ Truth who broke the story, the demand was withdrawn by the Norgroves. But today, Clarence and Ernestina’s last resting place there at Waikumete remains unmarked by a memorial headstone. 

Auckland Star, 2 November 1929

The name Cardwell Street, by the end of the Norgrove trial, had become notorious. After a man named Edward Ryan tried poisoning himself there in 1929, the residents petitioned New Lynn Borough for a change of street name. And so, Veronica Street, named after a variety of tree, came into being. Today, the site where Ernestina met her untimely and brutal demise is just north-east of Great North Road, and very much obliterated by commercial land use, as with much of the old New Lynn these days. 

Auckland Star 7 March 1930

Fading memories of the Cardwell Street murder, and an unmarked burial plot at Waikumete Cemetery, are all that remains of a point where lives collided so fatally.

Photo courtesy Ruth and John Snashall, February 2020

William Newell: the £22,000 man

On Tuesday 9 February 1943, the readers of the NZ Herald that morning would have found this bit of news as they sipped their tea and ate their toast.

 

By late June 1943, however, Newell’s posthumous generosity was put under the spotlight when members of his estranged family challenged the probate of his will through the courts, under the terms of the Family Protection Act.

So, who was William Newell, a man with so much money to give, but who had apparently left his own family out in the cold?

We need to reach back to the middle of the 19th century, when a couple living in Stalybridge, today part of Greater Manchester in England, were married in 1847: Mark Newell, a coal merchant, and Mary Farrow. Newell was originally from Drighlington, near Leeds in West Yorkshire, and by 1851 the family had set themselves up there. Our man William Newell was the seventh child of eight at that stage, born in 1857 in Drighlington. 

Mark Newell’s coal merchant business, in partnership with John Farrow (possibly his wife’s relative) was going well, employing 10 men. The partnership dissolved in 1863, however, and three years later in 1866 Mark Newell was dead, at the age of 51. By 1871, all bar one of Mary’s children were working for a living, including 14 year old William Newell, who was employed in one of the wool processing factories. Somehow, though, Mary later sorted out the finances, administered the estate, kept the family together, and took up dairy farming with them just outside Leeds by 1881. It could be speculated, perhaps, that the early brush with financial uncertainty left an impression on William Newell that he carried with him for the rest of his days. 

When Newell arrived in New Zealand isn’t known, but by 1885 he had set up his Sussex Square Dairy in Wellington. In March 1886 he married Lilly Amy Elizabeth Britland, and they would have five children: Florrie (1887), Frank (1890), George (1893), William Ralph (1896), and Horace Hilton (1900). Newell’s business continued to prosper. In 1887, he took over the Huntley Farm Dairy in Manners Street, Wellington, and apart from some court appearances for street skirmishes was elected Melrose Borough Councillor in 1898. 

In 1903, Newell abruptly moved to Palmerston North, and took over the license of the Royal Hotel, until May 1904. It was in that year that Lilly and the four surviving children, young Frank had already died, left Newell. “We lived extremely unhappily together,” Lilly later stated in court documents. “One of the said children namely George is a complete cripple, occasioned by an attack of rheumatism when he was 3 years of age. The doctor who attended him desired the boy to go to Hospital but [William Newell] would not hear of this because of the expense involved. 

“[William] was utterly without affection for me or the children; he was domineering and totally obsessed in acquiring money, and provided the children and myself with barely necessary food and clothing; a factor which in my opinion contributed largely to the ill health of the children. 

“Just after my said son George was born, deceased’s sister [Mary Fredericksen] came to take charge of the household; during this period the then second youngest child Frank choked with diphtheria and [William] would not allow a doctor to be called in on account of the expense and the child died [1893] … 

“… I left [William] in the year 1904 and took the 4 children with me … [William] agreed to give me the sum of £2000, and I was to have the children and the responsibility of bringing them up.” 

In 1907, William Newell came to Auckland and purchased Allotment 18 in Waterview, adjoining Te Auaunga/Oakley Creek and the Waitemata Harbour, from Wilhelm Paganini Hoffmann and his wife Sophia. This was the former Oakleigh Farm formerly owned by the bootmaking Garratt Brothers from 1879. Newell had a registered interest in the land from two years before, and used that to enter into a lease with a tenant named Dyke (see below). Definite sightings of William Newell in the directories and electoral rolls is difficult to prove. He may have been the William Newell, farmer, living in Bellevue Road, Mt Eden in 1911. He could have been the farmer William Newell at Burrows Ave in Parnell also in 1911. There was a farmer named William Newell living in “Kings Norton”, 8 Lower Symonds Street, in 1919. 

He definitely reappears again in February 1920 when he sued Henry Vincent Dyke, to whom he leased the Oakleigh Farm in 1905. Dyke had used the land as a poultry farm, but Newell sued for £200 damages for failure to keep the farm clear of gorse and blackberry. Newell had

“…allowed the occupancy to continue until August 1918, when he gave six months' notice to terminate. He alleged that the defendant had broken up and cropped about 67 acres, but failed to comply with the terms of his agreement as to laying down that area in grass, and had also failed to cultivate, use, manure, and manage the land in a proper manner … [Newell] was a retired farmer, and lived on the income derived from letting the property, the defendant paying him a rent of £3 per week. Plaintiff had learned that the defendant had transferred his lease to another man, who now occupied the land, although plaintiff had refused to recognise him. In contravention of the lease the defendant had allowed blackberry and other weeds to flourish. … The defendant stated that he manured the property by running his poultry on it. There were never less than 12,000 to 13,000 fowls at one time, Dyke said. Practically all the ploughable area had been ploughed. In 1916 he’d laid down 47 acres in grass. When he left in 1917 a Chinese gardener was using about seven acres as a market garden. After further evidence judgment was given for the plaintiff, the amount of damages being assessed at £150, with costs.” (NZ Herald, 28 February 1920) 

 In 1921, Newell arranged for his Oakleigh Farm property to be subdivided; Oakley Avenue was dedicated as a public road that year. He sold the farm in sections from 1922 to 1927. By 1925, according to Newell himself in a letter to the NZ Herald, Oakley Ave had about 20 houses “and 44 ratepayers.” 

He had table mortgages with some of those who had purchased property from him. In 1941, there were still four of these outstanding. At the time of his death in 1943, around half of his estate, around £10,500, was made up of debentures from territorial authorities around the country (Auckland Harbour Board, councils like Waitomo, Napier, Eltham, Mt Albert, Hauraki Plains, Whangarei, Auckland City, Otahuhu, Mt Eden, Hawkes Bay Electric Power Board, the Auckland Transport Board) and shares in the likes of Auckland Gas Company and Amalgamated Brick and Pipe. 

From 1904 until 1927, Lilly raised the family. According to her statement, “I was able [with the £2000] and by small speculations in household property in Palmerston North to bring the children up. I did my best to see they all had a good education. I had my crippled son George taught music and for a period he was able to teach music himself but later on his complaint made him quite incapable of using his hands or arms. 

“[William Newell] … during this time … made 4 trips to England unaccompanied by any family members. He did stay at my house on 2 or 3 occasions when on his way to make these trips or on returning from them but marital relations between us were not resumed. [He] displayed no interest whatever in the children; he was always a hard, unsympathetic and avaricious man.” 

In 1927, William Newell was living in “Oakley House”, somewhere close to his subdivision on Great North Road. From 1930, when a couple to whom he had sold the property at 6 Oakley Ave defaulted on their mortgage with him, he moved in and lived there until his death. He asked Lilly to come live with him again to look after him – and she agreed. In her words,

“From then until the year 1942 when I again left [him] his attitude of mind and his dominating and penurious attributes made life extremely difficult. Finally my health was completely undermined and I was compelled to leave [him] … I returned to Palmerston North to live with and look after my crippled son George.” 

For his part, William Newell left a brief opinion on his wife from this time, in a letter written to Robert King, Trust Manager with NZ Insurance Company, September 1942. 

“It is with regret I write these few lines to say my wife and I has [sic] not been living happily and agreeably as husband and wife should live for many years. First, she is a fanatic on religion, very ill disposed, contrary by nature, very disagreeable on many questions. On many occasions she would raise an argument on trivial questions not worth notice, and very often would use offensive remarks in these arguments. Briefly we were badly suited to marry … what is here said is enough on our domestic troubles. She left me without any warning.” 

For a viewpoint from outside the family, we do have the recollections of Mrs Florence Little, a housekeeper Newell employed to look after him, and who was with him at the end of his life. She was a beneficiary in his last will, receiving the title to 6 Oakley Avenue. Newell described her (again, in a letter to King): “… the housekeeper I now have is a very sensible intelligent and most agreeable woman, a well educated person, a first class cook, and good house manager well experienced in house work. She is a widow who [sic] husband died comparatively young. She has moderate sensible views on religion. She is a great help to me in many ways, even in the garden work.” 

Florence’s own view, via her affidavit:

“I did everything about the house, inside and outside, including the lawns, garden and cutting the hedges … the last two weeks were particularly unpleasant. The last two weeks he was unable to move, and had no control over his bowels, and I had to do everything for him, carrying him from room to room about the house … 

“Shortly after the death … I had a nervous breakdown as a result of the strain of work and nursing and am now receiving medical attention.” 

In another statement, she wrote:

“I acted as the said deceased’s housekeeper from about the beginning of August 1942 until his death on the 4th January 1943 … he informed me that he had engaged two housekeepers since his wife had left him, but one had remained only two weeks and the other only one week.” 

In Newell’s original will, dated 7 November 1941, he allowed for Lilly Newell to have the house at 6 Oakley Avenue, the payments from the outstanding table mortgages he owned, £3 per week allowance, and allowances to be paid quarterly and in equal shares from all remaining income for fifteen years to his four children. After Lilly had died, everything was to be settled up and divided among the children. 

Then, after Lilly left him again, Newell changed his will. Now, he left each of the four surviving children just £1000. To his wife Lilly, an increased £4 per week lifetime payment as per a new will in May 1942 was reduced back to £3. He recorded in a handwritten note that he had already been sending a sum to her during his lifetime to cover her household expenses. After Lilly’s death, the estate would be realised and divided up between, not the children, but the NZ Institute for the Blind, the Wilson Home for Crippled Children and the Church of England Orphan Home Trust. 

Supreme Court Justice John Bartholomew Callan (1882-1951) made his ruling on 28 June 1944. “It is a fair inference,” Justice Callan wrote,

“that the testator changed his Will not out of any deep interest in any of the three charities, but in order to punish his wife and children for conduct as to which, upon the affadavits, they were not in the wrong. This however does not justify the making of orders which would go beyond the principles established by the decided cases.” 

Florence Little got to keep the house and the chattels. For George Newell, given his disabilities and quality of life, his inheritance was raised to £3000. Another of the children, Florrie Platt, received just the £1000 inheritance, but with the notation that should her financial situation worsen, she could apply to the three charities named in the will for assistance. William Ralph’s inheritance was increased to £2000. Horace Newell admitted in his statement to the court that his father on visiting the family would give him money, from 5/- to £1. He ran a pharmacy at Opotiki at the time of his father’s death. Justice Callan decided that his inheritance didn’t need to be raised. 

As for Lilly Newell, Justice Callan took into account that she already had a £3 per week income from the estate, plus assets worth more that £2000. The order raising George’s inheritance meant that he would be able to repay a debt to her, and she could realise her assets relatively easily. Like William, she had invested the £2000 he had given her in 1904 in property and mortgages in Palmerston North. She should therefore live in reasonable comfort from the income and realisation of her assets, with the open possibility that if her personal situation before her death required, she could apply for help from the three charities. 

Florence Little owned 6 Oakley Avenue only until 1948, when she sold it. The house still exists. 

Lilly Newell died in August 1958. She left £100 to the British and Foreign Bible Society, and the remainder to her four children equally, less £400 she had already given to William Ralph Newell in 1944. 

From that point, William Newell’s estate was likely wound up, and the remaining proceeds finally distributed to the charities.

Sources:
Marriage registration and English census information from Ancestry.com
Marriage registration, Newell-Britland, NZ BDM
Evening Post, NZ Times, NZ Herald, Auckland Star, Manawatu Standard, Manawatu Times via Papers Past
Land information via Land Information New Zealand
Wills for William and Lilly Newell, Archives New Zealand and Family Search
Archives New Zealand files on the the court hearing: R25924723 & R25925014

Smoothing Coburg Street in the late 1880s

Image from Webbs Auction site, accessed July 2020

The image above came online, and I found it intriguing.

The caption said it was the site of the "library and art gallery," and that it is -- it's where today's Auckland Art Gallery sits, just below Albert Park. It also provides an interesting view of how parts of central Auckland's hilly landscape was cut down for the formation of streets and (in this case) buildings in the late 19th century.

Before the 1870s, what is now Kitchener Street was then Coburg Street (the name of the Royal House  of Queen Victoria being Saxe-Coburg-Gotha). It was a straight paper road, running from Victoria Quadrant in the north to the termination of Wellesley Street East. See this detail from the 1866 Vercoe & Harding map.

Then, from 1873, came changes as the City Improvement Commissioners who regained control of Albert Park began to make changes in order to develop the fringes, providing income for the City Council's much needed infrastructural developments. This included extending Wellesley Street East up to Symonds Street, and altering the angle of Coburg Street where it joined the new extension.

“A correspondent writes : — " The contractor who has the making of the new street in continuation of Wellesley-street East appears to be progressing well with his work, but should he not he expected to protect the public in passing up or down the same— to pass into Coburg-street, or over the hill, as they may desire? Something should also be done to protect the tenants in the cottages next to the cutting. No lights have been affixed to the boundarv rail put across the cutting. The rail makes the danger worse than if there were none. A child leaning against the rail would push it down, and be precipitated eight or ten feet to the bottom of the cutting below. If the cutting is thus unprotected by a light, kept burning between sunset and sun up, the police authorities should pay attention to the matter without delay.” (Southern Cross, 1 March 1873, p. 2)

 “To enable the said Commissioners to stop Coburg-street, between the northerly boundary of Dr Philson's property and its junction with Wellesley-street East, and to enable the Governor to grant to the said Dr Philson a triangular piece of land adjoining his said property, at present part of Wellesley street, and to make the abandoned portion of Coburg street land subject to the control of the said Commissioners.” (Southern Cross, 21 April 1873, p. 1)

So, around 1874, Coburg Street suddenly looked like this (foreground, Albert Park left, looking toward Wellesley Street and Rutland Street junction just beyond, Avey's Park Hotel in the centre, site of today's AUT):

 

4-148, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections

In 1876, it looked like this. View from a bit further north, looking toward Wellesley Street. Crowther's new stables now on today's Auckland Central Library site, corner Wellesley and Lorne Streets.

4-776, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections

In 1882, with Hickson's map of the city, we see the way Coburg Street had been angled by the work of the Commissioners in the previous decade.

The City Council's Streets Committee  at the time weren't in a great hurry to sorting out the still-hilly nature of that end of Coburg Street.

“Streets Committee,— Re Mr. Graham's letter as to works in Coburg-street, the committee report that the Surveyor's report be adopted ; viz., that the cutting of Coburg-place and triangle should be dealt with at the same time, so that it would be better to leave it as it is for the present.” (NZ Herald, 16 June 1882, p.6)

Then -- along came the plans for the city's new public library and art gallery. Part of the site of which would be that hilly bit of Coburg Street.

“It may interest the public generally to know what and where this site is. It is on a long and very irregularly shaped triangular piece of ground between the footpath below Albert Park (or of what is now Coburg-street), Wellesley-street, and what is to be Coburg-street. The street along the Park is to be shut up, and a street opened up lower down, the present street being part, and the best part too, of the site. The extreme width of the ground, on the square, is only 137 feet from the footpath to the junction of Wellesley and Coburg Streets; at the other end it is about 80 feet on the square; and at the junction of Wellesley-street and the footpath it is simply a point. The base, or longest part of the triangle is next the footpath, and from about the middle of the site on this line to the junction of Wellesley and Coburg Streets there is a fall of about 24 feet. I believe my design covers more ground, and therefore has more accommodation than any of the others reported on; and I assure you it caused me a great deal of labour and study to find room for it on the site. The building is close to the base line, or footpath, is within ten feet of Wellesley-street, and touches Coburg-street, so where the waste comes in I do not know. If the ground were perfectly level there would be a considerable vacant space at the junction of the two streets in front, but seeing that there is a fall of over 20 feet there, this space is occupied by the steps and landings getting up to the floor level. I consider this anything but wasted, as it must be allowed that a noble flight of steps with terraces such as are shown would do more to give dignity to the building than any number of little pinnacles, turrets, and such like.” (Letter to the editor, NZ Herald 6 February 1884, p. 3, on plans for the Library & Art Gallery)

And so, we come to that image at the start of this article.

This must date from c.1886-1887, as the site for the new building was prepared by the cutting down of the Coburg Street hillock. What was then Coburg Street in the foreground is now part of the Art Gallery's site. This would be looking across to the junction of Wellesley and Lorne Streets.

Here's is part of a map from 1889, showing the new alignment, one that survives to today.

Map 2661, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections

As it looked in 1900, looking up at the Art Gallery and Library.

Auckland Weekly News, 16 March 1900, AWNS-19000316-2-1, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections

And in 1964, the empty ground all smoothed out by the contractors in the late 1880s, now site of more buildings.

7-A11013, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections

"Good-bye now. I am off to Aussie": Frederick Demchy's short and disastrous flight, 1945

"Loading Lockheed Lodestar 'Karoro' aircraft." May 1945.Ref: WA-01296-G. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/30628079

(Auckland Star, 14 May 1945)
 AIR LINER LOST
£40,000 MONOPLANE
ARREST FOLLOWS FIRE
The total destruction by fire of Union Airways' 15-passenger Lodestar monoplane, Karoro, on the Mangere airfield about 9.30 last night, was followed by the arrest of a young man on a charge of stealing the aircraft. The big machine after taxi-ing on the field about 300 yards from the Auckland Aero Club's building, crashed into a dummy aeroplane and immediately caught fire. The single occupant extricated himself without injury. Later Detectives W H Cromwell and F G Fraser went to a house in Mangere and after interviewing a young man employed as a mechanic by Union Airways, arrested him on a charge of stealing the plane, which was valued at about £40,000. The incident caused much excitement in the district, a large number of Mangere residents being attracted to the airfield by the fire, which was visible for miles around.

Engines from the Onehunga and Otahuhu fire stations answered the call, but the machine could not be saved. Within an hour, after burning furiously, it was reduced to a heap of molten metal and twisted spars. Mr C R Osborne, a fireman from the Otahuhu station, suffered slight injuries when he was knocked down by another fire engine arriving on the airfield.

 The loss of the Karoro was the subject of the following official statement by Union Airways this morning:— "At approximately 9.30 last evening a junior engineer of Union Airways, without authority, broke into the hangar at Mangere through the garage and over the top of the oil store. He opened the hangar doors from the inside and took the Lodestar out, thereafter careering round the aerodrome with lights switching on and off, eventually hitting a dummy 'plane on the aerodrome. The aircraft burst into flames and was totally destroyed. "The hangar was securely locked by the station engineer before leaving the aerodrome at about 5 p.m. on Sunday.

 "With the aircraft available Union Airways will carry out every possible service to the original timetable, with only those alterations necessary, in the readjustment of which due notice will be given."

 The young man arrested was Frederick Demchy, described as an assistant air engineer, aged 19. He appeared in the Police Court this morning before Mr J H Luxford, SM, charged with stealing on May 13 a Lockheed Lodestar monoplane valued at about £40,000, the property of Union Airways. Detective-Sergeant Aplin asked that accused be remanded until May 21. Mr P B Fitzherbert, who represented accused, applied for bail. "He is only a youngster and he lives at Mangere with his mother," he added. "The facts will be admitted. It is a very serious charge that has arisen out of this incident.

 Mr Luxford: It is a most unusual type of allegation.

Detective-Sergeant Aplin said that in view of all the circumstances it would seem that the matter of bail should be dealt with by the magistrate in chambers. Mr Fitzherbert agreed, and the question of bail was discussed in chambers. It was later announced that bail had been refused. The Lodestar destroyed last night was Union Airways' first machine and the biggest civil transport operated in New Zealand.

(Auckland Star, 22 May 1945)
Mrs Fanny Irene Gardner said Demchy, who was at her home on Sunday night, May 13, seemed uneasy from the time the Air Training Corps' "quiz" came over the radio. He went out into the kitchen about a quarter past eight and when she followed shortly after she saw him by the sink, mumbling to himself, saying: "It's a good night for it, there aren't many stars." She asked him what he was talking about, but he wouldn't say. Witness described how accused went from the house.

After she saw the fire from the aerodrome she returned to the house and made a cup of tea. While she was awaiting Brain's return, accused walked up the steps on to the verandah. He was covered in mud and soaking wet. He was given a cup of tea and said something about it looking as though he couldn't fly after all. Later witness found a note on the table written by accused which said: "Good-bye. I am off to Aussie. By the time you get this I will be circling over the house." The note was signed, "Pilot Demchy."

To Mr. Fitzherbert witness said she had known Demchy for a long time. He was considered "one of the family" His behaviour that night was not his usual behaviour. It was not normal and she would say he was temporarily unbalanced.

Statement to Detective Detective W H Cromwell said he saw accused at Mrs. Gardner's home after the destruction of the Karoro. Asked if he realised what he had done that night, Demchy said he did. He said he was "fed up" and had taken the plane. Demchy appeared quite normal apart from being slightly upset after his experience. Demchy said he wished to make an explanation to clear up the whole matter. In a statement made on the night of May 13, accused said he was 18 on November 19 last and had a secondary school education. He lived with his step-mother in Watea Road, Mangere, and had been employed at Mangere by Union Airways for the last three years as a ground engineer assistant.

On Sunday afternoon Demchy said he went to Mrs. Gardner's place in Mangere Central. The family was at home, also one of the Air Force guards from Mangere Aerodrome. Bill Brain. After tea they all played cards. There was no drink in the house. Demchy said he neither drank nor smoked. "The conversation was general," continued Demchy. "I have been more or less fed up for some time past. I had applied to join the Air Force Reserve, but there had been some hold-up to my application. I spoke to Bill, half-joking, and told him there was a special trip to-night about midnight and I asked him if he would give me a hand to push the plane out of the hangar. I knew that Bill would be on guard at the aerodrome and I said this more or less to put myself on side with him. I told him I was expecting an urgent phone call from head office in Wellington in respect of this special night trip. I had not made up my mind about taking a plane, but after hearing the news on the radio I thought that I would take her up and show them that I could fly. As a matter of fact, I intended to fly to Australia in the plane.

"After hearing the news I kept on playing cards but I was not interested in them," accused continued. "I kept on chewing it over in my mind whether I should take the plane, or not. Finally I decided I would and I went into the sun porch where I wrote a note saying, 'Good-bye now. I am off to Aussie. By the time you get this I will be circling over the house.' I left the note on the settee, then climbed through the window and ran down the road. They must have found the note quicker than I expected, and I heard someone coming down the road on a cycle. It was Bill. I ran down a drive and hid behind a bush. He could not find me and circled about on his cycle. He came back to the corner and I heard him speak to someone. I got into a paddock and made my way towards the aerodrome. I found the hangar was locked up so I went round to the back, broke the padlock on the garage door with my hands, climbed over into the oil store and got into the hangar then switched on the lights and cleared all the engine trays away. Then I opened the hangar doors, got into the cockpit and started the two engines. I put my landing lights on to see where I was going and when I was taxi-ing out of the hangar I caught the star-board wing tip on the corner of the hangar.

I kept the engines running but I had to get out and get a small tractor to pull the plane clear of the obstruction. "I got back into the cockpit and locked the cabin door and pilot's door. Then I taxied out but could not find the runway for a while. When I finally found it I started to take off. When I thought I had sufficient speed up for flying I went to pull the undercarriage up but in doing so I accidentally knocked the port engine throttle, causing the port engine to go slower, making the plane swing to the left. I must have skidded across the ground sideways for quite a distance. I managed to cut off the port motor but the starboard motor was still going and the next I knew I had hit a bank and there were flames all around the cockpit. I had my safety belt on but I got this off. Then I had a bit of trouble opening the cockpit door. I finally ran backwards and opened the cabin door and got out of the aircraft, running towards the back of the 'drome. When I was about 75 yards away, one of the tanks blew up."

 Demchy said he had had no flying experience but had watched various men working on the plane and had a fair idea what to do. He admitted he had no authority to take the plane. "I don't know why I took the plane," he said. "1 was fed up and thought that if I took her and flew her to Australia they would take me into the Air Force. I have two stepbrothers in the forces—one is in the Navy and the other in the Army."

 (Demchy reiceived a fine of £100, paid back in instalments of 15s a week, and three years probation)

Avondale’s Racecourse by the River Part 2: Surrounded by Change (1923-2019)

Spring racing at Avondale, from Auckland Weekly News 27 September 1923, AWNS-19230927-47-1, 

Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections

(Following on from part one) 

For a number of years in the 1920s, it seemed that the Avondale Jockey Club committee members had to constantly watch their backs, taking a group deep breath whenever opening the morning paper, in case something else had cropped up to try to end their endeavour. Having seen off the earlier threat of closure in 1922, it may have freshly rattled their nerves when it was reported early in 1925 that former Avondale resident Richard Francis Bollard, then Minister of Internal Affairs and son of first AJC president John Bollard, spoke of amalgamating Avondale with Ellerslie’s Auckland Racing Club. Bollard though later emphatically denied that such was the case. The coal gas explosion which wrecked part of the club’s totalisator house in October 1924 probably added to the tensions at the time. 

But the club had their plans, and they had a firm business basis with which to do them. The annual report dated 10 July 1923 proclaimed, in bold letters, that “the Club has no liabilities whatever.” During 1924, they purchased land between the course and Wingate Street; the land once leased from Moss Davis and the Hancock Brewery to the east, including the strip fronting onto Great North Road, Webb’s Paddock in the middle, and the western end from Ellen Barker. More of the former Bollard farm was purchased along Ash Street, the site today of Sandy and Nacton Lanes. The club’s fullest extent would be reached, as mentioned in the previous article, in 1943 with the resumption of Jane Bollard’s property on Rosebank Road, but – by 1925, most of what those living in Avondale from the mid-20th century onward recognised as part of Avondale’s recreational greenspace was together under the club’s ownership.

The buildings 

The layout of the main structures for the course had always reflected the divide between members of the club, afforded due privileges of that membership, and the general public. While situated at the Wingate Street side of the course, this divide was probably not so pronounced, due to space restrictions. But once the shift had taken place to the Ash Street side, onto Bollard’s former land, the spacing of the demarcated areas laid out in 1900-1901 remained at least to the mid 1980s. 

Closest to the Whau River was the public area. This was fenced off from the main area beside it, and it was where the old 1890s grandstand that had been shifted across was placed. At some point between around 1905 and the late 1920s this oldest part of the racecourse architecture was removed. Plans were drawn up for open terraced seating in its place in 1928. The new stand was roofed in 1937. This was known as both the “public stand” and the “Derby Stand” at various times. It was destroyed by fire in 1985. 

Next to the public area was the lawn enclosure, featuring the main grandstand, the 1900-1901 version designed by Edward Bartley, with its distinctive “jockey’s cap” roof shape. It was shifted forward, closer to the track, in 1936, and had concrete terraces added to it. From 1963 it lost its prominence due to the construction of a new main and larger grandstand immediately adjoining it. 

The grand totalisator building from 1911 crossed the division between the public area and the lawn enclosure, and was divided off as well to reflect the separation of facilities between the two enclosures, which of course cost different admission fees as well. In September 1939 it cost 1-/ to enter the racecourse at the public enclosure, and another 1/- to park your car there as well. Entrance to the lawn enclosure (which included the general admittance) was 6/- for gentlemen, 8-/ for ladies, and all vehicles 2/6. Children under 12 were not permitted to the Grandstand Enclosure. “Men in uniform of His Majesty’s Forces will be admitted free.” 

The layout takes shape 

The greatest change was in the racetrack layout. Plans were drawn up in late 1925 for the old course to be completely obliterated, with a back straight now running nearly the full length of Wingate Street down to and including part of the old brickyard land. Alongside this, lasting until the 1990s, a steeplechase route was also added. The track was effectively shifted south as well as widened, leaving the members and public stands a considerable distance back from the track (a reason why both stands were eventually shifted forward, and the members stand realigned at an angle, to get the best views). H Bray & Co of Onehunga were the successful tenderers, and by February 1926 Avondale residents witnessed huge ploughs drawn by teams of ten and twelve horses engaged in the work of shifting topsoil and laying the foundation layers for the new track. Work was completed by February 1928. This didn’t include the mile/1600 metre start which was laid out in 1939, up by Great North Road and behind the block of shops there (as at July 2019, the site of the proposed new community centre and library), or the half-mile/800 metre start laid out in the 1950s at the Whau Creek end. 

Unfortunately, 1928 marked the end of the club’s nearly three decade long working association with architect Norman Wade, carrying on from the earlier plans drawn up in the 1890s for various structures by Edward Bartley. A legal disagreement over professional costs for the shifting and rebuilding of the grandstand resulted in a parting of the ways between the architect and the club.

Possibly, the oncoming Great Depression was the brake to any further work developing the racecourse facilities until halfway through the following decade anyway. As mentioned before, the work of shifting the members stand and the public stand took place in 1936, the public stand cut in half to complete the task. Ornate gates were added to the Elm Street entrance in 1937. In 1939, while totalisator earnings appeared to be lower than they were in 1928 for various reasons, it was still reported that the club looked forward to a brilliant 1940 season, with their racecourse facilities finally all in place, the new mile start in use, along with a training track in the infield.

But then, of course, along came World War II. 

The racecourse during the war 

Earlier full article here.

Up until July 1941, military camps on the racecourse were of a temporary nature, not really impacting on the club’s operations. But that July, construction began for a permanent camp, meaning that Avondale’s meetings migrated to Ellerslie for the duration. This was something that hadn’t happened before on the course – roads were laid down, rows of huts installed and erected. During the course of the camp’s existence, it was divided into army and naval transit camps, and even a POW camp for a time, after the uprising of Japanese prisoners at Featherston in 1943. There was also a temporary US Forces camp for a month only. 

From January 1944, the military camp was converted by the government into a Works Department camp. The Army vacated the racecourse in July 1945, and the Public Works Department finally evacuated in February 1947. The Jockey Club put in a £15,422 claim for compensation. They eventually agreed to accept £6000 cash plus some buildings (two mess halls, a recreation hall, and a cottage at the back of the tote building), and repairs to fences, latrines, stables, horse stalls, tote building, turnstiles and ticket boxes, outside stand, lawn grandstand, judges box, jockey’s board, steward’s stand and casualty room totalling £7500. The claim was eventually split between PWD and the Army. The club initially intended using at least one hut as a restaurant, but by March 1947 had submitted plans to the City Council for joining together and converting three ex-Army huts into an afternoon tearoom just in behind the public stand, along with a separate soft-drink stand using another ex-Army building just to the west. 

The City Council recreation areas 

On 5 October 1944, City Councillor Archibald Ewing Brownlie set in motion the process by which the Avondale community and surrounding districts came to be able to enjoy using large parts of the racecourse land on a long-term and permanent basis for recreation. At the time, the racecourse was still under government occupation. A full return to normal operations was nearly three years away. Brownlie asked the Parks Committee to look into the possibility of securing land at the racecourse for public use, without interfering with the racing and training there. The committee headed out to visit the course the following month, and by 8 December provided a report describing what was proposed to be acquired from the jockey club. 

The area beside the mile start was on the December 1944 list, with the exception of the Great North Road frontage to a depth of around 100 feet, so the club could have the option at a later point of subdividing and selling that part for commercial retail use as part of the shopping centre. That subdivision came about in 1961, with sales taking place from that point. (As at July 2019, this is the proposed site for Avondale’s new Community Centre and Library). The area ultimately vested as a gift to the City Council in 1959 curved around to have a Racecourse Parade frontage. Tennis courts were set up here, later becoming netball courts under the administration of Western Districts Netball Association during the 1970s. 

The other main area was around 19 acres at the western end of the racecourse, fronting the Whau Creek. Today, this is the residential area of Corregidor and Michael Foley Place, the Rizal Reserve, and the site sold in 2017 for the Tamora Lane development. Back in the 1940s, it was an area of broken ground, topsoil stripped off (possibly transferred to the main part of the racecourse during the work in the late 1920s), littered with remains from the earlier brickmaking operations there plus the club’s own rubbish tipping. Two power pylons were already in place on the site, but the City Engineer still remained keen, suggesting that part of the waterway could be reclaimed to provide more space for the required playing fields. In a lengthy report from February 1945, the City Engineer went on to speculate that acquiring the whole of the racecourse’s 124 acres would go a long way toward the calculated 210 acres required to provide for the expected future recreational needs of not only Avondale but the wider district, creating a regional reserve. 

“At the present time,” he wrote, in what would now appear to be a rather prophetic piece of report writing, “under the present conditions of Metropolitan Government, to acquire such a total area for regional purposes would be beyond reasonable expectation. It is possible that at some future time, the area might be considered for subdivision for urban development. In that event a portion at least will no doubt be acquired for reserve and in any case the opportunity would present itself for acquiring the whole area. Circumstances may then be different.” 

The report was adopted by the Council in March 1945. By the end of April, the jockey club put forward a further proposal: that the city council lease, for a term of 25 years, the infield area bounded by the training tracks for 1/- per annum. In March 1947, the Avondale branch of Citizens & Ratepayers convened a meeting at Avondale College, which came up with the suggestion that twelve playing fields in the area to be leased by the council be made up of: Rugby and League, seven fields; Soccer, two fields; and Hockey, three fields. Two concrete cricket pitches were also recommended. In June, the council authorised the laying out of ten playing fields in the inner part of the racecourse. There was a delay regarding the setting up of the playing fields, as the Auckland Rugby Union was using that space at the time, and asked to be able to see the winter season out. Drawn up in 1947 as part of the wider agreement covering that, plus the two outright gifts of land, the lease between the Jockey Club and the City Council was eventually agreed to and signed in 1952. 

As for the 19 acres by the river – some members of the Jockey Club committee had a change of heart by March 1948. They felt that “a mistake had been made as they thought that the area would be required for future extension [the 800 metre start] and the siting of racing stables.” The Council’s Town Planning officer assured them that there was provision in the agreement for the club to have land handed back to provide for the additional starting space, but the committee members were adamant. The gifting of that part of the racecourse land to the council was, from that point on, off the table. 

The lease for the inner field playing areas expired in 1977 without right of renewal. The Jockey Club required, as part of the agreement to renew the lease, the provision of a hard-surface car parking area at the north-eastern end, and underground toilets in the midfield. The council’s Department of Works designed the required toilets, male and female, in 1978, and these were built for around $28,000. The matter of the hard-surface carpark however dragged on, and the lease wasn’t formally renewed at that time, although the club and the council came to an agreement that use could continue while negotiations carried on. 

In July 1981, Councillor Jolyon Firth described the toilets in a memo to the chairman of the Parks Committee as:

“... a four-holer semi-submerged Clochemerle sited in majestic isolation in the mid-field area of the racecourse. This was considered necessary as, in want of such a facility, many people had no alternative but to make a convenience of the back of the Club’s dividend indicator board thus causing discolouration and rot to a most important raceday facility.

“In constructing this new facility, the Council was obviously mindful of the dictum of the late Chic Sale, author of The Specialist who, in his ground rules for these types of facilities, made famous the words “For every Palace a privy, and every privy a Palace” … There was no official opening. Such an event would have been embarrassing because no sooner had the edifice been put in place, then it flooded. A member of the Suburbs Rugby Club told me that it was “awash to the gunwhales.” Having got past that calamity the facility is now a great convenience for thousands of people. And, of course, the Club’s dividend indicator board is no longer rotting away …” 

The facilities into the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s 

After the five year gap, the Avondale Jockey Club’s return to racing at Avondale after the war did not go as smoothly as planned. Their spring meeting that year was to be their first, but before it took place, major repairs and maintenance were required to the buildings due to the military occupation. Although the government promised to undertake these repairs, these were deemed by the Auckland Carpenters and Labourers Unions to not be “essential” work, and the job was declared black. Presumably, some sort of compromise was reached between the government, the contractors and the unions, for in September 1946 the first post-war race meeting was held on the course. 

The racecourse’s 1950s story is told mainly in the developments made to the course and its facilities. The additional 800 metre start was added at the Whau Creek end. An addition was built for doubles betting at the auxiliary tote building at the rear of the lawn enclosure by 1951, along with a standalone indicator board, and an eastern addition to the members grandstand. Five small open public stands were built beside the old 1900 grandstand around 1951. 

An amendment to the Liquor Licensing Act was passed in 1960, and this allowed the club to once again sell alcohol from 1961, even though Avondale itself remained dry. The club replaced the old huts that had served as tearooms with a beer garden, and constructed a members bar and a garden bar attached to the outer public stand. Around this time, the old 1911 tote building was converted into a cafeteria. Liquor sales allowed the club to go ahead with the new public stand next to and overshadowing the old 1900 version, replacing the small 1950s open stands. The cost of the grandstand project at the time was £140,000, and it opened in January 1963. In behind the old stand, the club provided asphalt basketball courts for the use of 11 Western District schools from May 1964 until the old stand was also later replaced. 

The club raced for only six days a year (raised to eight by 1969), but had the third highest daily totalisator turnover in the country. It maintained three training areas beside the main track: the plough, the two-year-old and the No. 1 grass. The club’s success during this period shows in the further developments of a new members stand in 1964, and the installation of an infield indicator in 1967. A block of 18 loose boxes were built beside the Whau River in 1969. 

July 1969 saw the retirement of course caretaker Walter Willoughby. When he started working at the racecourse as a casual in 1928, it took a day and a half to mow the ten miles of the course proper with a horse-drawn manual mower. By the 1960s, it was mechanised into being just a four hour job.

  

Divots kicked up by horses on raceday however still took him and 21 helpers several hours to replace the following day, on top of the cleaning of the 146 lavatories dotted around the course. 

In 1976-1977, the old grandstand from 1900 with the “jockey cap” roof, was finally demolished for another public grandstand between the 1963 building and the members stand. A birdcage track was added in front of the members stand in 1979. A new tote building was constructed in 1983 for the introduction of the new Jetbet system where the same window could be used to place bets, as well as collect the dividends. A new parade ring was installed in 1984. 

The racecourse hosted the New Zealand Polynesian festival over the course of three days in February 1981, an event started in the early 1970s to encourage competitions among Maori cultural groups, known today as Te Matatini. 

In 1985, fire ripped through the 1928-1937 outer or Derby grandstand, and the remains were demolished, not to be replaced. Reports at the time erroneously described it as part of the old racecourse from the 1890s. In fact, the oldest structure of all, what remained of the 1911 tote building, continued on for another few years, finally disappearing when the course was later subdivided in the early 1990s. 

The Avondale Sunday Market 

The market originated as an idea for a method of fundraising used by the West Auckland Labour Party electorate committees. The Otara flea market had started for partly the same reasons, back in the late 1970s. In the early 1980s, flea markets were held by schools, and also by Suburbs Rugby Football Club in Avondale on Saturdays from 1978 – it doesn’t seem to have been all that much of a stretch to take the idea, once a rental agreement was arranged with the Jockey Club, to establish a regular event each week on the outer grounds, accessed from Ash Street. 

From 1983 to at least 1991, the market appears to have been run by a committee of trustees on behalf of the electorate committees. A minute book exists for that time period, but my information here comes mainly from the newspapers and the council’s property file on the racecourse. 

The trustees approached the City Council on the matter in May 1982, calling it the “West Auckland Market Day”, and an application to operate the flea market was lodged with the Council in July. This was granted in October that year for a period of six months before reassessment, with the conditions that the market operated only from 9am to 12 midday, with no stalls to be set up prior to 8am. Only second hand goods could be sold there. At the time, the principal planner reporting back to his department didn’t feel that the market, selling only second hand goods, would prove to be much in the way of competition for the retailers in the Avondale Shopping Centre area, and “moreover, the scale of traffic that would be generated on Sunday by the fleamarket would be considerably lower than that generated by Racecourse activities during the other days of the week … Avondale Racecourse, with its large area of open space, carparking and public facilities appears well suited to a fleamarket.” 

A later report stated that the first such market opened at the racecourse in November 1982, a month after the approval was given, and there are letters in Council files from January 1983 referring to traffic issues on Sundays in the Ash Street area, seeming to involve the market. But there was no mention made in the Western Leader in November 1982 – the earliest notice advising that stall holders could contact the organisers actually appearing in the newspaper on 22 February 1983.

In July 1983, a further three months was granted to the organisers by the Council. In 1984, an application was lodged with Council to allow the market to operate on a permanent basis, but the system remained of six-monthly approvals, on the basis of regular review. 

The market proved exceedingly popular, and despite the initial small scale continued to grow. By the week preceding Christmas 1984, 206 stalls were operating. By February 1985, rather than just “second hand goods”, the market had attained a similar flavour to that of today, selling fresh produce, meat, fish and shellfish, flowers and plants, homebaked goods, takeaways, new clothing and footwear, second hand clothing and footwear, craftwork, and “second-hand household effects.” Gates were opened to the public at 8 am. It rarely ran much over the 12 midday time limit, as most of the vendors had already sold out and gone home before then.

Permanent consent to operate the market was granted in 1989, with a variation of conditions in 1995, after the market appears to have ceased being controlled by community trustees and became a private business. 

NZ Herald 31 March 1987

Brand new ideas for the 1980s – night racing at Avondale 

The club’s night racing idea was very much something from out of the speculative era of the 1980s. It was a gamble by a club that had indeed made its business from gambling, but this time they well and truly lost the bet. 

According to George Boyle’s Highlights from One Hundred Years of Racing at Avondale Jockey Club (1990), it was outgoing Club President Peter Masters who suggested in October 1983 that consideration should be given to night racing, as well as meetings on Sundays, “to bring New Zealand racing out of the Victorian age.” His cue was taken up by club secretary John Wild, credited by Boyle as being the driving force behind the project to introduce night thoroughbred racing to Auckland. He and Don Marshall travelled to Hong Kong and West Germany to view other facilities, and checked out manufacturers of the required lighting systems. 

By October 1984 the project’s cost had risen from $2 million to $3 million. A request for a loan of $1 million from the Racing Authority was turned down. Nonetheless, the club plugged on, raised finance, sought and gained Council approval for the installation of the lights, and in October 1985 at that year’s AGM announced the appointment of Lobley, Treidel and Davies of Melbourne as the consulting engineers for the work. The first contract was let by June 1986, and the first of the lighting masts was in the ground by November that year. 

The club held a dress rehearsal on 9 March 1987, a trials meeting with no betting, but an estimated 3000 turned up anyway for the spectacle. The date of the first main meeting with full betting was, perhaps rather unfortunately in the light of what happened so soon afterward, April Fools Day 1987. Nevertheless, the official attendance figure was a crowd of 9380. The night was deemed a success, but John Wild shared in that success for only just over a week before he died from a heart attack. 

When things came unstuck – the beginning of the land sales 

In October 1987 came the sharemarket crash. The economy went into downturn, and financial markets were hard hit. General betting turnover went down as well. Some blamed the economy, others blamed the rise of alternative games for the gambler’s dollar, such as Lotto (and later Instant Kiwi). Certainly, the expected crowds didn’t come out to Avondale’s racing nights. 

By January 1988, the Avondale Jockey Club’s finances were less than completely sound, and the committee were faced with hard decisions. They had enormous debts from the night racing development, and not a lot of income from the venture to show for it. Less than a year after the inauguration of night racing, the secretary/general manager Stephen Penney had a meeting with the Council’s Director of Parks to discuss the possibility of Auckland City Council purchasing 10-14 hectares of the infield areas that they were leasing from the club, at $300,000 per hectare. Discussions also included provision of a $670,000 underpass from Wingate Street to the land should Council purchase it. There had still been no agreement between the Jockey Club and the Council regarding formal renewal of the Council’s lease over the playing fields area. 

By June 1988, the Council settled on just having a lease agreement rather than purchasing the land. The Club then offered a lease to last until 2002, with one right of renewal to 2027. Eventually, by March 1989, the Club and the Council came to an agreement, based on the greater of either 5% of agreed value of the land, or the total amount of rates charged to the Club for the racecourse. In 1990, this was around $75,000 per year. 

Back in October 1988, the loss made in the Jockey Club’s annual accounts of $1,282,080, plus its interest liability of $998,742 on the $5 million borrowed for the course improvements became public. At their annual general meeting that month, however, none of the 76 members who attended queried the club’s financial performance or situation, the sole question from the floor only being about “the scruffy standard of dress in the members stand,” according to one report. Apart from the attempt to sell a chunk of the infield land to the Council that past year, the club also had plans to develop the corner site at Ash Street and Rosebank Road as a casino, and develop more land along Ash Street for commercial use. 

Retiring president Laurie Eccles had just returned before the meeting from giving a paper on night racing at the Asian Racing Conference in Sydney, and told the AJC members they “should not hold any fears over the wisdom of the switch to night racing.” His successor, newly elected president Eddie Doherty is said to have stated, “The financial difficulties were short-term. In a year or two the club would look back and wonder what all the fuss was about.” 

By May 1990, when the City Council granted approval to the club to sell off a $600,000 strip of its Wingate Street property for state housing (this though fell through the following month), the club faced a $4 million debt to the Bank of New Zealand who refused to extend the club’s overdraft, and $2.3 million to the Racing Authority. Servicing the loans was costing the club $1 million per year. There was talk of forced amalgamation of the Ellerslie and Avondale clubs to stave off disaster. At the end of that month, Avondale’s race meetings were cancelled until further notice. 

The club tried once again to get the council to buy the playing fields, this time for $3 million, but were turned down. In July, discussions began with the bank to try to get them to agree to a rescue package put together by the Racing Authority (where the club’s financial control would be in the hands of an appointed board), but the bank refused. The head of their Credit Recovery Unit was quoted as far afield as Australia: “The Avondale Jockey Club must face the consequences of its own business decisions … It is a business in the same way as a corner dairy, and must accept full responsibility for its financial position.” 

A notice of default of payment was issued by the BNZ, set to expire 7 September 1990, at which time the bank would foreclose and sell the racecourse property to the highest bidder. An incredible situation, given that the reported turnover of the club, prior to the racing cancellation, was $50 million per year, the second highest in the country. The club at this point, though, couldn’t even afford to apply for planning permission to have its Ash Street land rezoned for sale, and the BNZ refused to lend them the money to do so. 

The Racing Authority and the BNZ eventually came to an agreement which staved off the foreclosure. After the October 1990 annual general meeting for the Avondale club, the bank provided the club with a three year term loan of $2.5 million. The Authority provided the Jockey Club with a further loan of nearly $2 million to pay off creditors and stay within the credit facility offered by the bank, and a three-member Board of Control was put in place to manage the jockey club’s financial affairs. The club resumed racing on 1 November 1990, after shifting a number of their scheduled night fixtures to daytime, with the cooperation of the Greyhound Racing Association and the Racing Conference. The stake for the Avondale Cup was reduced from $250,000 to $100,000, trainers and jockeys agreed to donate their winning percentages to the club, totalisator staff worked for free, and races were sponsored. 

The board of control had the power to dispose of portions of the club’s real estate that didn’t interfere with racing operations, in order to reduce the restructured debt. Land at Rosebank Road (Avondale Lifecare) andWingate Street (again, to Housing Corporation), was duly sold. By the time of the October 1992 AGM, the club reported a profit of just over $100,000. 

But still more land had to go. The club’s Ash Street property just west of the main entrance was sold in 1995 to Prominent Enterprises Limited, a company which intended to use the land as a golf driving range. This didn’t eventuate, and today the site includes a service station, McDonalds, and Nacton and Sandy Lane residential areas. The 1911 totalisator building finally disappeared. 

Most of the area of land that the club decided they didn’t want to gift to the Council back in the late 1940s by the Whau River, was sold in 1995 as well, becoming Corregidor and Michael Foley Place.

From just over 51 hectares or 127 acres at fullest extent in 1944, the racecourse property in 1999 was 36.6 hectares or just over 90 acres. 

The racecourse into the 21st century 

By 2001, the club held 17 meetings a year – but it was reported at that time that a plan for Avondale’s redevelopment, the Avondale Liveable Community Plan, proposed to rezone a third of the racecourse for multi-storey apartment blocks. Soon after, commercial enterprises began to approach the club with the view of leasing parts of the remaining land, including The Warehouse around 2003. By 2005, the club held 16 meetings, down from 22 in the 1990s, but still had an annual betting turnover of $22 million. 

Then came the message from New Zealand Thoroughbred Racing and the New Zealand Racing Board that they thought that it was better that Auckland have only two racecourses – and Avondale wasn’t one of them. From around 2007, the situation became more fraught, and by 2009 the club had only 13 “industry” meetings, most of them on Wednesdays and featuring moderate horses, and still had $2.5 million in debts. 

On 3 July 2010, the club held a final meeting before going into recess yet again. Many Avondale locals popped along, myself included, to say goodbye to what had been, up to that point, such a large part of the local area’s sense of place. We certainly hoped it wouldn’t stay closed. 

It didn’t. Racing returned on 25 April 2012, but the debts remained. More land just west of Sandy Lane was proposed for sale in 2014. This took place in 2017, with development yet to begin for 54 terraced homes at Tamora Lane as at the time of writing this article. Then in July 2018, the Messara Report to the Minister of Racing, Winston Peters, was released. In it, the recommendation was made that Avondale receive no further racing licences from the year 2020/2021. “Venue with 11 meetings in 2017/18. Training. Excellent location. Poor infrastructure. Freehold. Extremely valuable land with an estimated value of more than $200 million with rezoning and which should be sold for the benefit of the entire industry. Avondale JC should race at nearby Ellerslie or possibly Pukekohe.” 

Coming in a period where proposals had also been drawn up by Auckland Council’s Panuku property arm concerning plans for Avondale’s future development – including the possibility of great chunks of the racecourse land becoming residential housing should the racing cease and the jockey club wind up — the report alarmed not only the club but the surrounding community, many of whom feared that the Sunday Markets for one thing may well cease. But just as I conclude this part of the article, the Jockey Club sent a number of letters out to various parts of the community, including the Avondale-Waterview Historical Society, and posted diagrams on their website indicating that they still intend to have an operating racecourse, come what may. Facilities in their plan would be further squashed together, so that slightly more land could be sold to reduce the costs of maintaining the course. They are planning, they say, for “an even more exciting future.”

After nearly 130 years of racing, surrounded by change both in the industry and in Auckland as a whole, down there on the Avondale Flat it is still a matter of “don’t give up yet.”