Saturday, April 18, 2009

Shortland Street, Vulcan Lane, and the Chancery

I ventured out yesterday to hear a talk on an archaeological investigation of a West Auckland historical site. As the talk was being given in the Pioneer's Hall at Freyburg Place, I took the opportunity to hop off the bus at Princes Street and take a walk through Auckland's old administration centre, via Shortland Street, towards the hall. On the way, I was able to rediscover an old favourite of mine: the former 1YA broadcasting studios.

In her day, she must have been quite a sight, up here on the Shortland Street heights. Even today, I reckon she holds her own amongst the mirror-glass giants. Aside from the NZHPT link just above, there's an interesting transcript of a speech on the history here.
"Commissioned at the height of the Depression by the conservative New Zealand Broadcasting Board, the IYA building in Shortland Street was Auckland’s first purpose-built radio station. Deceptively large, the IYA station’s structure presents a single storey facade to Shortland Street, but extends for another three levels down the hill to Fort Street at the back. Requirements of early radio broadcasting technology dictated that the building be solid and soundproof therefore there are double brick walls twenty-one inches thick to block out noise, and copper framed arched “windows” reveal a second layer of brick rather than a view of the interior. Studios below street level at the front can still be used for music practice and recording as they were built beneath the road and into the hillside to block sound."

Shortland Street itself is still an interesting thoroughfare. This was Auckland's very first "main drag", known in the 1840s as Shortland Crescent. All the movers and shakers were to be found here, rather than at the Ligar Canal bedevilled Queen Street below. Times changed once the sewer was roofed over in the latter road and forgotten.

Still, the old street maintains some pretensions. I just had to take a photo of this sign.


Vulcan Lane. It's mainly cafes too dear for my wallet or fashion places where someone of my over-generous proportions wouldn't be seen anywhere near these days, but I still like it as one of central Auckland's service lanes that made it to the big-time, and has survived the city's growing pains and changes over the centuries. Earliest ad on Papers Past mentioning Vulcan Lane is from a James McLeod, 24 October 1850, wanting "Two good forgers. Constant employment, and good wages to steady men." Earliest article is from 10 January 1851, when one Alexander Hamilton, a blacksmith (apt, as Vulcan Lane's name origins are linked to the smithy trade) made use of " a certain opprobius epithet" to Constable Wilson in the lane, then squared up to him and physically threatened the said representative of the law. Some interesting finds were made during a recent archaeological investigation of part of the lane.


The Chancery is modern, late 1990s, but as the streets at Freyburg Place curve back up the hill towards the gutbusting climb of Kitchener Street, modern here doesn't really look out of place with a glimpse of historic just in behind. Just because I'm intrigued by the past doesn't mean I don't think that stuff from the present is cool.

Friday, April 17, 2009

The allure of our capital's history

I am a true, born-and-bred Aucklander, second generation (my paternal grandfather came here in 1912, and three out of my four grandparents have ashes deposited in the clay soils of Auckland). And yet -- this doesn't stop me being quite fascinated by heritage in other places. (Of this, I'm glad, for if I were not fascinated, then I'd never venture forth and find new stuff. Tragic.) I loved visiting Melbourne a few years ago (and want to do so again); Sydney, with a bit of exploring, wasn't bad and revealed her past rather well, especially the Powerhouse Museum; Christchurch is some place I'd like to return to, and see Lyttleton this time, maybe even Akaroa as well; I'm quite fond of Matamata, Tauranga, Cambridge and Taupo, and deeply love Rotorua.

And then, there is Wellington.

I've said before in this blog that I've come to realise that NZ local history allows me to explore, to find out, to go looking for the answer to questions which keep on popping up -- and when I find the answers (if I do), they are usually interesting. Wellington is one of those places I'd love to have time to explore, as thoroughly as I could. The brief time I was there on a stopover on the way back to Auckland, the city's weather was beautiful, and I was hooked. Now, yes, I realise her weather can be atrocious. Then again, I come from Auckland ...

If I get the chance to spend more than just a few fleeting hours down there, I wouldn't go back to Te Papa (it didn't impress me at all), I'd return to the Museum of Wellington City & Sea (one of my favourite all-time museums, a true explorer's paradise), probably spend lots and lots of time at the National Library, and check out Wellington City Library as well. One thing has always impressed me about Wellington City Council's websites -- they have very good heritage content. The library's site is no exception. Check it out when you have some time.

I'm still a dyed-in-the-wool Aucklander, though. I love to explore, but I also love coming back home.

Auckland's Karaka Bays

Image of karaka fruit, from Wiki.

There are three Karaka Bays in the Auckland Region that I know of (comments, please, if I've missed others) -- and fortunately, all of them have webpages featuring their history. Only the first two of the list below still retain the original name.

Karaka Bay, in the eastern suburbs of Auckland City, by Tony Watkins.

Karaka Bay, Great Barrier Island, by Margaret Peacocke.

Karaka Bay, now Green Bay, in West Auckland (Waitakere City), by Nigel Brookes.

I would add Wellington's Karaka Bay, but I can't find a specific historical reference page to it online. See next post, however.

The Dauntless vanishes

The second-to-last journey of the 72-ton topsail schooner Dauntless was to convey a cargo of cement to Port Chalmers in late June, 1875. She left Port Chalmers, bound for Wellington, but stopped at Moeraki to pick up 635 bags of oats. Finally, she left that port on Friday, 9 July. She was never seen again.

Built by Henry Nicol & Son of Devonport in 1871, she was owned by a Mr. Conroy of Auckland, and her agents were Bouman, MacAndrew & Co. She had had two mishaps before her disappearance: 7 February 1874, under the command of William Miller, she was involved in a collision with the Challenger in Auckland Harbour, between Breakwater and Queen Street Wharf during a gale. Next, on 24 September 1874, she struck a reef off Kawau Island. By June 1875, her master was Hans Poulsen, and her crew’s names were Jonathan Harpley, Charles Llewellyn, William Thomas, John Proctor, and Robert Whitefield. All disappeared.

The Dauntless wasn’t the only vessel to vanish at that time. The Pearl, a 53 ton schooner carrying timber from Auckland to Lyttleton, sailed on 8 July and disappeared on the seas. A librarian at Auckland Library’s research centre suggested cargo shift as a cause. The Pearl’s timber may not have been secured, and the Dauntless’ bags of oats may have tipped her over. We may never know. Five men died on board that vessel.

What brought my attention to the Dauntless’ mysterious fate was that of Captain Poulsen’s son Harry. He had been educated at the Parnell Orphan’s Home, supported by the Ara Lodge (his father had been a member). After Parnell Grammar School, he entered service with the Auckland Star, then journeyed to Sydney to take up a position as sporting reporter for the Sydney Daily Telegraph. Only 24 years of age, he met with a terrible accident.
“The following detailed particulars of the late Mr Poulsen's tragic death appear in the Sydney Daily Telegraph :-"It appears that Mr Poulsen mounted a fine animal belonging to Mr Ivey, of Surrey Hills. He rode safely along Bourke-street for some distance, when the animal bolted and dashed at full speed into Cleveland-street, Redfern. A few minutes afterwards Mr Poulsen was seen by a lad named Rogers, who was driving a butcher's cart, clinging to the horse's mane, while the reins, which had slipped from his hands, were hanging in front of the animal's head. He had, therefore, lost control over the horse, which the next instant dashed into the butcher's cart. One of the shafts grazed the horse’s side, and entered Mr Poulsen's left thigh, the force of the collision driving it clean through. As the horse broke clear, Mr Poulsen was left impaled upon the shaft, where he hung for fully half a minute. He then dropped to the ground, where he lay until picked up by some bystanders. As he fell the horse attached to the butcher's cart, started off, and the wheel just grazed Mr Poulsen's head.

“Mr Poulsen was conveyed to the Sydney Hospital. Dr Hollis there found that, besides the thigh being terribly lacerated, the pelvis bone was badly fractured. The patient was placed under chloroform, and conveyed to the operating-room, when nearly two hours were spent in attending to him. From the first the medical men were doubtful whether Mr Poulsen would survive the shock to the system.”
(Poverty Bay Herald, 30 July 1890)
He didn’t, and died 14 July 1890.

The fate of Maori bones, 1843

The other day, I had a bit of a trawl through a reel at the Auckland Library which had fragments of early New Zealand papers on it. For the first time I got to see the result from Henry Falwasser's mangle, the Auckland Times, which appeared from September 1842 until his death in January 1846. Not only did he proclaim the mangle-produced issues as "Printed on a mangle", but when he ran out of type of one set, he substituted others, so in the middle of his sequence, his paper had a delightful anarchic effect to it.
There was also the Auckland Chronicle and New Zealand Colonist. W Mervyn Lusty, writing in the New Zealand Railways Magazine, describes it this:
"At intervals in the course of its career the “Times” had a spirited rival in the “Auckland Chronicle and New Zealand Colonist.” The first number was issued on 8th November, 1841. It suspended publication the same year, but was revived in October, 1842, only to disappear again in July, 1843. It made a third appearance a short time later, and finally died in 1845. It was printed by Mr. Moore in the interests of the Government. The “Times” referred to it as “that administerial thing called the ‘Chronicle’—bah!” The “Chronicle” retaliated by calling its rival “the Old Lady of the Mangle,” and by advertising “For sale, a mangle, apply to the proprietor of the ‘Auckland Times’.” The “Southern Cross” in its first issue had the following biting reference to the “Chronicle”: “For sale or hire, in about a fortnight, a defunct Government engine used for stifling the fire of people; rather shaky, having lately stuck fast in the swamp of Queen Street…. Has been well greased lately, its head turning with marvellous facility in any direction. Apply at the ‘Chronicle’ office.”
The following, from the Chronicle dated 11 October 1843, is among the earliest references I've found to the Whau district (of which Avondale was part), spelled in this instance "Wou".
"DREADFUL MURDER!! On Friday morning last, two persons named Sharkey and Kirkland gave noitice to the Police that they had found the body of a man, half-buried, at the Wou, who apparently had been murdered, as the blood still continued to stream from the head; and a coat and some other articles were lying scattered around. "The Chief Police Magistrate, with that promptness and energy which eminently distinguishes him immediately, started for the fatal spot, accompanied by the Chief Constable, and two other Constables named Newman and Oliver, and on arriving at the place described were thrown into a state of the most fearful consternation, and hearts thrilling horror, on discovering the bleached bones of a Maori infant, which had been but imperfectly buried, probably some six or seven years before! "The skull, the ribs, and the thigh bones were in the most perfect state of preservation. Oliver carefully gathered them together, and brought the treasures home in his pocket handkerchief; they will probably be dispatched to the British Museum the first opportunity. The most intelligible construction that can be put upon this matter is, that a Maori woman had given birth, either to a still-born infant, or one that had died soon after birth, and had buried it there, leaving the old coat that she had folded it in, and the wooden spades behind, in conformity to the articles of her religion, respecting the sanctity of tabooed places. (Faugh!)"
I take it that the editor of the Chronicle, but that last sentence, wasn't all that supportive of the removal of the child's bones from its grave. There's no further word on whether this was a true story or not, or what happened to the bones if the story was indeed correct.

The New Zealand Journal

Another blog I'll add to the left-hand list: The New Zealand Journal, found this morning via Jayne's Our Great Southern Land blog. Some beautiful images -- well worth a browse through.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

The many flagstaffs of the Flagstaff War

Image from Wikipedia.

Back in late March, an item was to be auctioned which was claimed to be a piece of timber from the Kororareka flagstaff cut down by Hone Heke in 1845.
"Auction house Dunbar Sloane is selling the piece for Lady Caroline Simmonds, a granddaughter of the Earl of Ranfurly, who was the Governor-General from 1897 to 1904.
Dunbar Sloane jnr said much was still unknown about how the piece came into Ranfurly's possession, or which flagpole it was from.
Asked how he could be sure this was actually a flagpole fragment, Mr Sloane jnr said Lady Caroline held significant amounts of history from her grandfather's time as Governor-General.
"You go through the descent - there's impeccable history. It's not like someone walked in off the street and said 'I found this I want $20,000.' The plaque is very old."
Personally, I wouldn't have forked out great wads of personal savings for an item with a provenance like that. It turns up, after over 50 years, in the collection of a Governor of New Zealand ... no, that's not enough to make me want to part with good money. At least, not as much as the auctioneers would have been expecting.

Now, after the item was pulled from auction due to Maori protests that the piece made have been kauri, from the original flagpole, and therefore from Heke's forests, comes the news that it has been scientifically tested as actually being Baltic Pine. I see news headlines today saying that the tests showed not only that it was pine, but that it came from a mast from by an American whaler which happened to be in port at the time, obtained by Her Majesty's government to be made into a flagpole. Somehow, I doubt a scientific test would tell them all that but there you go. The fragment is Baltic Pine, and Te Papa have another fragment of Baltic Pine, with flagpole fragment pretensions. And, to underline it all, there is a walking stick in the mix to boot.

So -- how many flagpoles were involved in the stoush up at Northland? At least four, by my count. Possibly five, if they didn't bother reusing the one pulled down not by Hone Heke but by Europeans.

The most information I've been able to find came from Hobart's Courier newspaper, of all places.

Flagstaff 1: possibly kauri, unknown fate
Some time in July, 1844, John Heke, a baptized native chief, commenced hostilities against the Government, by cutting down the flagstaff and committing various other depredations in and about the Bay of Islands. This being represented to the Governor, he immediately sent to Sydney for assistance, which was promptly rendered by despatching 200 soldiers, who were met at the Bay of Islands by His Excellency in the Hazard, of 18 guns, and the Government brig, but Heki had decamped to his " Pah," inland, and refused to come and meet the Governor; this affair, however, was patched, through the intercession of the mission, and the soldiers were sent back to Sydney. The man-of-war and Government brig returned to Auckland, and the Bay left to itself again.

Flagstaff 2: unknown wood, cut into short lengths, burned
Another flag was put up, and Heki began to stir himself among the different tribes to get assistance to cut the flagstaff down again ; this he accomplished in the early part of January, landing with two large canoes filled with natives, at a beach a little below the town; mounting the hill by a back pathway, he arrived at the house of the signal man, made the door fast, and then called out to him, telling him not to be frightened, as he only wanted the flagstaff, and would not hurt or rob him if he kept himself quiet ; the natives then went to work and cut down the flagstaff, cutting it into short lengths, and setting it on fire; the rigging they took away with them; they then gave a war whoop or yell, and dance; this was the first intimation the inhabitants had of what had been doing. Returning to the canoes (taking the rigging with them,) they paddled their canoes to the front of the town ; it was by this time daylight, and the inhabitants just aroused from their beds, were dread fully frightened when they saw the canoes filled with armed natives, and as was expected, on the point of landing among them, but they only gave three lusty cheers and paddled away to the other side the harbour, their canoes decorated with the flags taken from the signal station. This outrage caused a very great sensation among the friendly natives, who were now assembling and holding meetings everywhere, to know what was to be done.
Flagstaff 3: unknown wood (put up by Maori, a “bare pole”), cut down
A few days after he sent word over that he would pull down the custom-house and watch-house ; a party of natives, to the number of 500, now came on the beach, determined to protect it to the last, and put up a flagstaff (certainly only a bare pole, but sufficient to hoist the English colours;) this only remained up one day, and was cut down the next night; the Government brig arrived next day with forty-five soldiers, and orders to put up another flagstaff immediately; this was done before evening with the assistance of natives and the soldiers, John Heki still declaring that he would pull down as many as they chose to put up; this stood two days, when it was again cut down during the night, whilst the beach was guarded by about 1000 natives …
Flagstaff 4: unknown wood, pulled down
… this mischief was, however, remedied by the friendly natives before daylight, and another pole put up with the English flag nailed to it ; this was, however, unfortunately pulled down by some Europeans swinging on the ropes upholding it …

Flagstaff 5: unknown wood (possibly Flagstaff 4), undermined, unknown fate
… nothing was done towards putting up another until the arrival of H.M.S. Hazard, with a block house, when a new flagstaff was erected, and the blockhouse put up for its protection, with a guard of twenty soldiers, and a lieutenant. Notwithstanding all these preparations for defence, John Heki still declared he would have it down, saying it was not the Atua (or God) who had placed it there, but men's hands, and men's hands could pull it down again ; at these threats the settlers only laughed, thinking he never would have the audacity to come in the face of the troops, and the sloop of war, to commit his depredations ; but the sequel will show how far they undervalued the prowess of the natives. Heki was by this time joined by number of different chiefs, with their tribes; the first one that may be called properly belonging to the Bay, who showed a troublesome disposition towards the Europeans, was " Kawite" an old and very powerful chief, who, as soon as he heard that Heki was nearly ripe for action, commenced offensive operations on the outsettlers, plundering them, destroying their fruit trees, &c. &c.,and in some instances burning their houses. …In the early part of March, Heki again made his appearance in the Bay, and was immediately joined by this disaffected chief, and all whom he could intimidate into joining with him; although of course very glad of all the reinforcements he could muster, he still could not help expressing his displeasure at the manner in which these natives had commenced their operations, telling them it was not against the settlers he wished to wage war, but the flagstaff ; if the soldiers chose to protect it he would fight with them, but he hoped the settlers would have nothing to do with it, as he did not wish to hurt any of them… On Saturday, March 8th, the Rev. Henry Williams, and T. Beckham, Esq., P.M., went with a flag of truce, and held a parley with the natives, when the principal chiefs agreed, as the next day was Sunday, they would remain quiet until Monday morning, when they might be expected in the town of Kororareka and at the flagstaff; but from certain information it was not for Sunday they waited, but for another large party of natives who joined them on the Monday. … The plans of the natives being all matured, on Monday, March 10, they sent word to the captains of the several American whalers then lying al the Wahapu, requesting them not to allow their people to go to Kororareka on the ensuing day (Tuesday) as they intended fighting, and would not wish to hurt any of them. This intelligence was taken down to the beach and reported to the proper authorities, but they were so self satisfied of their power over the natives that no particular close watch was kept. … As soon as the soldiers' backs were turned, Heki, with his mob, mounted the other side of the hill; the sentry hearing them turned about, and to his dismay saw a large body of natives rushing to the attack of the block house and flagstaff. He did all he could, discharged his musket, killing one native and wounding another, but he was instantly shot down with the signal man, and the natives walked in and took quiet possession of the flagstaff and blockhouse, in which was ammunition for 20 men for three days. Thus again Heki found himself in possession of his darling, the flagstaff. … the flagstaff being cased with iron they could not cut it down, but undermined it until it fell. This job being accomplished they sat down on the hill and watched the fight between the other parties.
Courier (Hobart), 17 April 1845

And then there was Flagstaff 6 ...
In the North, the chief news is that the Government again intended to try the strength of Heki, by reinstating the flagstaff at the Bay of Islands; and Heki, bold as ever, intimated that he would destroy it.
Perth Gazette, 22 April 1848

The British used Baltic Pine as timber for their warships going back to the time of the Battle of Trafalgar; the Dutch even earlier still. American whalers (judging by Internet sources only) seem to have clad their ships in Baltic Pine, but mainly used timbers from their own states.

That the piece of wood up for auction is Baltic Pine still doesn't prove to me, beyond reasonable doubt, that it came from the Kororareka flagpole, though, even if documented evidence came up from the depths of our past to say that, yes, the flagpole at the blockhouse was Baltic Pine. That timber was fairly common in maritime countries, it would seem.

So, sorry, I still wouldn't part with any money for that block.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Signalman's House, Devonport

Some interesting history summarised on the website for the Michael King Writer's Centre at Devonport, on Auckland's North Shore, about the Signalman's House on Mt Victoria. Worth a look.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Dr. James Frederick Carolan


While I was in Matamata, I felt too tired to continue the main day of the historical conference there and attend the scheduled dinner, so I elected to return to my motel room, enjoy a meal of Chinese takeaway, and spend the evening reading Joan Stanley's Matamata: Growth of a Town (1985) instead. Granted, I've heard from those who went to the Kaimai Cheese Factory building and attended the dinner that they had a wonderful time, topped off by movies shown on a wall including shots of troopers leaving our shores bound for the 2nd Boer War, but -- my greatest enjoyment at Matamata was doing something I've come to realise of late is a real passion of mine. Which is, exploring local history, even of districts that aren't Avondale or Waterview, my home turf. Reading Joan's wonderful book, I was able to do just that. It partially made up for not getting much of a chance to check out the Matamata Historical Society archives while I was at the Tower Museum -- time was very much against that, which was disappointing as I'm not sure financially whether I'll be able to get back to Matamata to have a look. C'est la vie.

But, the consolation is definitely Joan's book (if you read this, Joan, again -- my deepest thanks). I enjoyed reading it because it answered a number of the questions that had come to mind while I'd walked around the township before the conference-proper began. It also gave me a sharp jolt when I recognised a name: Dr. J. F. Carolan.

According to the book, Dr. Carolan settled in the Matamata district some time before the First World War, the third of three early doctors identified as serving the community there. His wife opened a private maternity hospital called "Kapai Whare", and both husband and wife worked hard during the 1918 influenza epidemic, bringing bowls of hot soup to one family with nine sick children. Dr. Carolan became ill but still either attended to his patients, prescribing for them either at his surgery or over the telephone, while his wife nursed many patients. Similar to the work of our Robert Allely here in Avondale during the same crisis.

The real link, though, is that, for a brief time, Dr. Carolan was a doctor living in Avondale, around 1906-1908* at least, one of our earliest medical practitioners. (*Found in May 2009 - references to Dr. Carolan at Avondale appear in the Leonard Pauling diaries, those of a Te Atatu farmer in the early years of the 20th century, on 4th, 9th, 16th December 1909, 6 January and 19th September 1910.) He certainly moved around, though, from when he first appears in documentation here in New Zealand, until his death.

It was Joan, again, who pointed me in the direction of a Cyclopedia of New Zealand entry for him, with further information on his biography. Born in Surrey 1851 of Irish extraction, he qualified with the Royal College of Surgeons in 1872. While he was here in New Zealand, he was alternately referred to either as a doctor or a surgeon: he fulfilled both roles. The 1902 Cyclopedia describes him as being in the colony for 19 years: he may have arrived, therefore, sometime around 1883. He registered as a medical practitioner in this country in 1885, appointed public vaccinator at Waipu in 1886, and held the same office for Mahurangi, Albertland, Mangawhai and Matakana in 1888. The earliest newspaper reference I found online was 1888, when he was firmly part of Warkworth and district's community, a fine singer (and piano player) at the local socials. As at 1890, he was vice-president of the Mahurangi Cricket Club, but in August he left the North for the Franklin District.
"Our doctor is taking his departure for fresh fields and pastures new. In many respects his loss will be felt here, not only in a business but in a social point of view, being always ready and willing to use his musical abilities for the amusement and benefit of the public. I heartily wish him (Dr. Carolan) every success and prosperity in his new home — a wish which all settlers around echo. He makes Bombay, I understand, his headquarters."
(Observer, 9 August 1890)

In his new home, he became involved with the local volunteer units, most likely as their medical officer. He was very proud of the wearing the uniforms he was entitled to: hence the photograph above, from the Cyclopedia. He was an honorary member of the South Franklin Mounted Infantry, then surgeon-captain to the Waiuku Cavalry.

In 1895, he moved back north, this time up to Kawakawa, as native medical officer and public vaccinator for the Bay of Islands district, and later surgeon to the Bay of Islands Coal Company. In 1898, he was on the move again, shifting to Rotorua (Observer, 1 October 1898). In March 1899, he was up north again, in Matakohe and remained there until 1903.
"In March, 1899, he removed to Matakohe, Kaipara, where his residence, “High Combe,” is conducted as a private hospital and Convalescent Home. Dr. Carolan is Medical Officer of Health for the county of Otamatea, and was elected surgeon-captain to the recently formed Otamatea Mounted Rifles, which have their headquarters at Paparoa. Possessing a fine tenor voice he has been much in requisition at all leading concerts and entertainments. Dr. Carolan is married to a daughter of Mr. S. H. Reid, J. P., of Papakura Valley, and niece of the late Rev. Alex. Reid, principal of Three Kings College, Auckland, and has four sons."
(Cyclopedia)

1903 was a move to Auckland this time, first at Birkenhead, and later Avondale. During this time, Dr. Carolan became involved, although on the sidelines, with an issue of an "unnecessary post mortem" on the body of a child named Elsie Whitehouse in 1906, who died after a treatment of trephination of the skull. The child's uncle wrote the following letter to the Observer (18 August) after that newspaper's initial coverage and opinions on the case:
"Dear Observer, — I should like to bring under your notice a sidelight on a matter you referred to a short time back, vis, the unnecessary post mortem held on my niece, Elsie Whitehouse. At the time Dr Carolan, as a "friend of the family," ordered the operation, which was considered (professionally) successful, though the child died. Shortly after this there was the unnecessary post mortem "to clear up an obscure point." Now sir, the friend of the family, Dr Carolan, and Dr Porter have sent in their bills for £10 10s and £14 14s respectively. I ask you are these legitimate charges to make upon a struggling settler whose outlay is already sufficiently great, to say nothing of the trouble in which he has been plunged? The accident happened on Monday. The child was dead on Thursday. — Yours, etc., A. H. Whitehouse, Ponsonby."
Dr. Carolan responded, defending his honour.

"Dr Carolan writes to us at some length in reply to the letter of A. H. Whitehouse in our last issue. Referring to the allusion to himself as "a friend of the family," he caustically says : — "I am no friend of A. H. Whitehouse, although I have attended members of his family, and he is known to me as the proprietor of a 'travelling show.'" He then proceeds : — "'Ordered' an operation! What authority has a medical man to 'order' an operation? Dr Harding Porter, who consulted with me, suggested the dangerous and difficult operation of trephining the skull to the mother of the child, as a last resource, and this Mrs E. Whitehouse agreed to without hesitation, and life was prolonged from Monday until the Thursday.

"The 'unnecessary postmortem' held by order of the Coroner, was ordered without my knowledge. I was not requested to be present, and pointed out to the Coroner, previous to the autopsy, that I was in a position to state the cause of death, but I think it only fair that the 'friend of the family' should not be censured for this! The charges are perfectly legitimate, and could be recovered in the R.M. Court if necessary. They are in accordance with the recognised scale of fees. Moreover, the father of the child, Mr Edward Whitehouse, has expressed himself thoroughly satisfied with all arrangements and has thanked the doctors privately by letter and also by advertisment in the Herald newspaper."

Dr Carolan also adds: "At the time of the accident the wife of Mr E. Whitehouse absolutely refused to permit the child to be taken to the general Hospital, a place more suitable for a "struggling settler," but begged me to remove the injured child to my residence. The unfortunate woman who was at the station master's house at New Lynn with four little children implored my wife to take care of the little one. At Mrs Whitehouse's request I turned my house into a temporary private hospital, afterwards removing the patient to a private nursing home in Auckland in order to receive proper surgical nursing, and I attended the child at the "Mater Misericordia" Hospital in conjunction with Dr Porter, with the approval of the mother of the child."
(Observer, 25 August 1906)

He appears in Wises Directory of 1907 as living in Avondale, and in 1908 was the nearest and attending doctor to the level crossing smash at the Avondale Railway Station. (This is why his name leapt out at me from the Matamata book).

Some time between late 1910 and just before World War I, he made his last move, to Matamata. Judging by the BDM records, he died there in 1930, aged 79. A most interesting doctor, this Dr. Carolan: so much a part of Northland, Auckland, Waikato and even Bay of Plenty history.


Saturday, April 11, 2009

Bottle in the stone

Image: Old St. Paul's Church, by Edward Ainsworth, 1843, Auckland City Art Gallery.

To me, one of Auckland's great historic tragedies was the demolition of both Point Britomart from the 1870s, and the old St Paul's Anglican Church which once sat on the point at the end of Princes Street, overlooking the harbour. Today, the point is an amputated stump, with memorial plaques the only reminder that there once was a church on what is now empty chasm falling to Shortland Street and Emily Place below. The foundation stone was laid in 1841, completed with a bottle as a time capsule to mark the occasion. The church lasted just 44 years, before it had to make way for the city's progress.

Auckland Star, 23 February 1885
Yesterday the final services in St Paul’s Church, prior to its demolition, took place, and were largely attended by those interested in that ancient landmark of Auckland. There were twenty-two communicants at the early communion service, and eighty-four at end-day … In the evening, the incumbent, Rev. C. M. Nelson, preached to an overcrowded house … the rev. gentleman gave some interesting reminiscences of the early history of the church.

He stated that the foundation stone was laid on Wednesday, 28th of July 1841, by His Excellency Captain Hobson, first Governor of the colony. The church then planned for erection consisted of that portion of the building which extends from the present vestry, which was then the altar, to the choir seats and organ gallery. On 27th October 1841, Bishop Selwyn was consecrated first Bishop of New Zealand, and an impetus was given to the work by funds raised by him in England, and his subsequent arrival in the colony on the 30th May, 1842. In the papers of that day it is stated that in August, 1842, £100 was granted by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel “for the purchase of an organ for the first church now building in New Zealand.” The church was consecrated on St Patrick’s Day, 17th March, 1844, by Bishop Selwyn.

The Rev. J. F. Churton died on 26th January, 1853, after twelve years’ service in Auckland, during nine of which he conducted service in the church. The Rev. F. Thatcher was assistant of St. Paul’s after Mr. Churton’s death, and for a few months carried on the work, when he was appointed to the newly-formed doistrict of St. Matthew’s. In June 1853, Mr. Lloyd became incumbent, and was subsequently raised to the archdeaconry, with the title of Archdeacon of Waitemata. On February 24th, 1861, Bishop Patteson was consecrated to the Bishopric of the diocese of Melanesia. Mr. Dudley (now Archdeacon Dudley) was ordained to the Melanesian Mission in this church.

Extensive additions were made to the church in 1863 by the erection of the present nave and chancel, at a cost of £2,500, and the church was re-opened on September 6th, 1863. On October 5th, 1868, the only General Synod as yet held in Auckland was opened in the church. In 1869 Bishop Selwyn left the colony, and the service prior to his departure was conducted in the church.

In 1870 Archdeacon Lloyd left Auckland, having been incumbent at St. Paul’s seventeen year. After a short space, during which Bishop Cowie cared for the parish, the present incumbent succeeded to the charge on June 1, 1876. Bishop Cowie held a primary ordination service in the church on November 30 (St Andrew’s Day), 1870. On the 10th of June, 1873, Bishop Cowie ordained to the priesthood George Sarwin, the first and only native deacon ordained by Bishop Patteson.

In 1876 the interior of the church was cemented and the churchyard fenced at a cost of £700. In 1879, the old organ and choir gallery were removed, and the organ considerably enlarged. The organ was purchased at a cost of £300, and it was then 70 years old.

St. Paul’s, when the troops were here, was always the garrison church, and it was where every Governor of the colony when in Auckland has worshipped. During the Northern Maori War, the church was strengthened and barricaded as a refuge for the women and children when the natives threatened the town. The rev. gentleman stated that the marble tablets and brass memorial plates erected in the church in honour of Governor Hobson, Lieut.-Governor Dean Pitt, and a number of other worthies, would be carefully stored until the new church was erected. The large congregation listened with close attention to the historical reminiscences. The demolition of the church will, we understand, commence at once, as its removal is to be consummated within a month.


Image: Old Saint Paul's, Auckland, by Charles Heaphy, 1853. Auckland City Art Gallery.


Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 18 September 1841

The interesting ceremony of laying the Foundation Stone of the Metropolitan Church of St. Paul's, at Auckland, was performed by His Excellency the Governor, on Wednesday last. By twelve o'clock all the principal gentlemen of the town had assembled outside the Government Domain. The gentlemen in Auckland, who are free masons, appeared with the decorations and insignia; of their order. A Guard of Honor from the 80th regiment, in Garrison, were present, under the command of Lieutenant Best. His Excellency was received by the military, with the usual honours; and the procession, arranged by Mr. Terry, as M.C., moved off to the site of the Church, which is beautifully situated at a short distance from Government House…

The ceremony commenced by Mr. George Clark, addressing the natives in their own language …

The Governor then said, "I trust my friends, that there are none here who shall view the ceremony of thus commencing an edifice to be dedicated to the worship of the Almighty God, without feelings of deep reverence for the sacred purpose to which it is to be applied. This is the first stone of the first Metropolitan Church in New Zealand, to be denominated the Church of St. Paul; and let us heartily pray God to sanctify and bless our labours. With a view to instruct the Natives, Mr. Clark has explained to those present, the nature of this ceremony, holding up the white population generally, as an example of holiness and piety, which I trust will be sufficient to extend from end to end of these islands, the truths and blessings of the Gospel."

The Attorney General then addressed his Excellency: " I have the honor lo present to your Excellency this sealed bottle, containing coins of the realm of their late Majesties George the Fourth and William the Fourth, and also of Her present Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria. There is also an inscription, slating the day and the year on which your Excellency, as first Governor of this colony, laid this foundation stone; together with the names of the Clergymen, the Trustees, and the Architect. The bottle also contained one of the earliest newspapers published in Auckland, the capital of New Zealand."

The following is a copy of the above inscription:
THIS,
THE FOUNDATION STONE
OF THE
METROPOLITAN CHURCH OF SAINT PAUL'S,
WAS LAID
BY HIS EXCELLENCY WILLIAM HOBSON, ESQ.,
CAPTAIN IN H.M. ROYAL NAVY,
FlRST GOVERNOR,
AND
COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE COLONY
OF
NEW ZEALAND,
ON WEDNESDAY, THE 28TH OF JULY,
A.D. 1841. -- A. H. 5841.
Rev. J. F. Churton, Clergyman.

TRUSTEES
Hon. W. Shortland, Esq., Colonial Secretary,
Hon. F. Fisher, Attorney General,
Hon. George Cooper, Colonial Treasurer,
Felton Mathew, Esq , Surveyor-General,
Mathew Richmond, Esq., Captain 96th Regt.

COMMISSIONER OF CLAIMS
William Mason, Architect.

His Excellency then took the bottle, and deposited it in a cavity of the stone, prepared for its reception. Mortar having been spread over the surface of the foundation stone, another, of similar dimensions, was laid over it. His Excellency completed the ceremony, by using the level and mallet.


Image: Auckland, Old Saint Paul's, by John Kinder, 1861. Auckland City Art Gallery.

Auckland Star, 26 March 1885

Late yesterday afternoon, the workmen engaged in the demolition of St. Paul’s Church discovered the foundation stone of the building under the eastern wall. A broken bottle was found in the cavity of the stone, the contents comprising two shillings and three sixpences of the reign of their late Majesties, George IV and William IV, and of her present Majesty Queen Victoria.

There was also a copy of the New Zealand Herald and Auckland Gazette of July 24th, 1841, No. 3, Volume 1, and a piece of parchment shriveled and faded to such an extent that the writing is undecipherable. It was apparent that the cavity in the stone had been too small originally, or that too much mortar had been placed over it, thus causing the breaking of the glass in the bottle, and the consequent damage of the parchment by damp.


An “Unsavory Locality”: Rokeby Street, Auckland

This is a name, now, which has been expunged from Auckland’s street maps. Rokeby Street, between Queen Street and the southward curve of White Street, near the oh-so-steep Liverpool Street, is today known as Waverley Street, and the 1908 City of Auckland map by the Council reflects the change. It dates from 1865, and appears to have been part of a subdivision of property along what was once known as the “useless” Upper Queen Street (due to the extreme gradient to Karangahape Road, its mud, and the slopes on either side leading to deep gullies) perhaps organised by Reverend Thomas Buddle, who was at that time secretary of the local Wesleyan Mission movement, and connected with the nearby school. In March 1865, he advised the Auckland City Board that Rokeby Street has just been dedicated. (Southern Cross, 4 April 1865)

Why Rokeby? I can’t be sure at this stage, but its proximity to Marmion Street leads me to surmise that there may be a Sir Walter Scott connection, author of the works Rokeby, Marmion – and yes, even Waverley.

It appears that Rev. Buddle used the subdivision, and the rents from leases taken out by those wanting a relatively convenient place to live close to the city centre, as a means to provide funds for the mission. This was a fairly common practice – the Anglican Melanesian Mission Trust the best known example. However, by the early 1880s, this started to go wrong in Rokeby Street.

Property owners in Rokeby and Queen Streets petitioned Police Superintendent Thomson in January 1885:
“We, the undersigned residents and property-owners … beg to draw your attention to a very serious nuisance and annoyance, not only to ourselves, but to all those who use Queen-street between Alexandra-street [Airedale Street] and Karangahape Road. We refer to a nest of brothels, three being within a few yards of each other, and the most prominent of which, known as the White House, fronts on Queen Street. These are a constant source of annoyance and disturbance to the neighbourhood by reason of the almost nightly rows and constantly recurring scenes of indecency, and so great is the nuisance that property is materially depreciated in value … We respectfully ask your protection, and trust you will give our position your prompt consideration.”
(Star, 23 January 1885)

Just as an aside, there is still a “White House” in Queen Street – at No. 371, on the other side of the road in the old Theosophical Hall, and billed as an “entertainment centre” including striptease performances. Were the owners of the latter White House aware of the earlier, 19th century version? Who knows?

Back to the 1880s …

The petition, signed by 25 property owners and residents, gave cause for Superintendent Thomson to direct Detective Hughes to give the proprietresses of the brothels notice to clear out, under the 26th section of the Police Offences Act. The proprietresses, in response, consulted solicitors, and declared that under the Act, “disorderly conduct and importuning of passers by must be proved; indeed, the Act affords them a protection that was not afforded to them by the old Vagrant Act. They also claim that as long as they act in accordance with the Contagious Diseases Act, and refrain from breaking the provisions of the Police Offences Act, they should not be interfered with by the police.” (Star, 22 January 1885) Such would seem to have been the case: brothels in early Auckland were legal, to the extent that the workers there had to be certified and regularly checked for diseases under the Contagious Diseases Act, and as long as none of those associated with the brothels actually solicited in public. The editors of the Auckland Star, however, were quite clear as to their opinion of the situation.
“If the law, as it stands, will not meet the case, the Legislature should certainly next session cause the necessary amendments to be made. The scenes enacted in the thoroughfares near these houses baffle description. A few Saturday evenings ago, the prostitutes from Newton drove down to one of these Rokeby-street brothels, and dropped out a young man, whom they proceeded to belabour. The language used was dreadful. On a recent afternoon, as a ‘bus laden with ladies was proceeding up Upper Queen-street, a semi-nude harpy might have been seen leaning out of one of the windows of a house fronting Upper Queen-street, and with the greatest possible effrontery, conversing with a cabbie whose vehicle was stationed at the door. The owners of these three brothels derive handsome rents therefrom. One of them, it is said, recently presented £10 towards the funds of a country church, and shortly afterwards raised the rent of the brothel to £3 10s per week, presumably for the purpose of making up for his liberality to the church.”
(Star, 23 January 1885)

This reference to associations with men of the cloth may have been just hearsay to titillate the readers of the newspapers. I haven’t gone too deeply into research on this part of Auckland’s story, time and money being impediments at present, but the Observer made some observations which could be worthy of further investigation.

“Auckland is not free from men who will scale any heights or descend any depths to make money. I can quite understand a man of the world in this respect, because mammon is the god before whose shrine he bows down and worships. But when a "good" Presbyterian has no qualms of conscience, and is content to make money by moans legitimate and illegitimate, no matter how vile the latter, it is sufficient to make the hair of a virtuous man stand erect … Not a person in Auckland is unacquainted with the rumours, founded on fact that have floated about in reference to the disgraceful proceedings that nightly have been gone on at the brothels in Rokeby-street, and yet we find a professor of religion, and, above all, a Presbyterian, aiding and abetting these debaucheries by lending money to a prostitute to purchase a house which she lets to another frail sister, therein to carry on the purposes of her licentiousness. I cannot find fault with a radical man of the world making the most of every wind that blows, but when a "saint”' does such a thing, and at the same time palms himself off as a model of piety, no language is too harsh to denounce him. By this I am forcibly reminded of the chorus of a very old song—
" 'Tis a world of flummery.
There's nothing but deceit in it—
The same we ever find
As we travel on."
(Observer, 7 March 1885)
Rokeby Street was not densely occupied, even in 1885, and being so close to the city centre. One reason might been its less than salubrious reputation by the middle of that decade, but I’d put money on the real reason being that the levels between Upper Queen Street and both Rokeby and Marmion Streets were so different, it was difficult gaining access to already narrow roads. Back in 1866, residents from Marmion Street appealed to the City Board.
“At present the only outlet from the street is by climbing the embankment, which is not only an inconvenience to the ratepayers, but tears away and seriously injures the embankment itself. We would suggest that a flight of substantial wooden steps might be erected on the slope of the bank that would serve as a temporary accommodation until Marmion-street can be raised at the junction to a level with Queen-street. The total cost would be only about £5. The undersigned would engage to erect steps to the satisfaction of your Engineer, provided your Board supply the requisite timber.”
(SC, 28 June 1866)

The levels may have been altered enough that wheeled traffic could wend its way carefully through the narrow streets, but in 1885 the Herald still termed Rokeby Street as “one of those narrow abominations left as a legacy to the city by the greed of uncontrolled land speculators.” (2 March 1885)

Rev. Thomas Buddle had built a wooden house, possibly two storeys in height, called Paddington Villa on Rokeby Street. It stood on the north side, opposite a brick house owned by Charles Burnes and his wife Polly (Polly is called “Polly Barnes” in the newspaper accounts), and a bit further down the slope towards White Street was the house of Thomas Quoi and his wife, restaurant owners. While Rokeby Street had started out in the 1860s-1870s as upper middle-class, with a resident then advertising for servants, by the mid 1880s, just before the bite of the Long Depression, it was definitely working class. Buddle sold Paddington Villa in August 1882 to architect William Henry Skinner who, in turn, sold it in May 1883 to a “Mr. Collins”. This was probably Frenchman Victor Collen who, at that time, was intimately associated with one Valentine Becquet, known as “Madame Valentine”. In 1883, she operated a brothel in Wellington Street known as the “Stone Jug”, another elsewhere called the “Hermitage” (operated under lease by “The Mermaid”), and the Rokeby Street house, operated under lease as well by Julia Wilson, known as “Black Julia.”

“We are glad to learn that the police are carrying on a vigorous campaign against some of the most notorious and abandoned of the brothels that infest the city. There is one in Wellington-street, presided over by the notorious Madame Valentine, which has lately been subjected to domiciliary visits. The lady in question is distinguished by a waywardness and instability of affection that leads her to adopt one protector after another, very much in the same way that some other women become attached to pet dogs. Her latest weakness was a Frenchman named Victor Collen, formerly of Wellington. This gentleman took up his permanent residence on the premises, known as the "Stone Jug," and became the guide, philosopher, and friend of the other inmates, but having received a hint from the police, he has promised to shake the dust of this city from his boots, and seek other pastures. That Madame is well able to indulge in the luxury of a protector is evident from the fact that she receives a rental of £6 a week from " The Mermaid " of the " Hermitage," and £7 a week for the house in Rokeby-street, tenanted by "Black Julia." Not long since an old Waterloo veteran was sent to gaol for no other crime than poverty. Probably it was thought that he ought to have died long ago, if only to relieve the public mind from the suspense and anxiety of waiting for the last Waterloo veteran to disappear. There is an irony about our boasted modern civilization which would be wonderfully amusing, if it were not saddening and shocking: While an old soldier who helped to save thrones and empires is allowed to perish miserably in a gaol, sleek landlords live on the gains of vice, and Jezebels flaunt in silks and satins. Well, if there isn’t a hell, there ought to be.”
(Observer, 29 December 1883)

Prior to this, Madame Valentine was arrested in 1882 on a charge of stealing £30 from a drunken bushman named Harry Collins. She was later acquitted.

The other player in this story was “Black Julia”, sometimes also known as “Dark Julia”. Described as a “voluptuous Creole” with “Nubian hair” (Observer, 20 June 1891), Julia makes an appearance in Auckland as early as October 1876, already in charge of a house to which gentlemen of all manner of sobriety (or insobriety) came calling. (SC, 5 October 1876) As with many of the brothel-keepers of the time, her house was officially a “private boarding establishment”. In August 1883, her Albert Street house was burned to the ground while she was in Sydney and had left one Mary Bowen in charge. The house’s actual owner was a Mrs. White of the City Club Hotel. (Tuapeka Times, 15 August 1883)

This fire led Black Julia to enter into business with Madame Valentine, and find herself a new installation, this time at Paddington Villa in Rokeby Street. By March 1885, Julia also ran the White House on the Upper Queen Street frontage.

In mid February 1885, Superintendent Thomson issued notice for the brothel keepers in Rokeby Street to clear out. Word reached Madame Valentine in Sydney, and she returned to look after her interests there. She stopped by Paddington Villa, and apparently had a row with Julia there, before heading to Wellesley Street and another house of hers operated by Minnie Williams where one of Valentine’s former Paddington Villa girls lived, Nellie Brehmer. She testified that Valentine said, “…if the girls were not out of the b ---- house by Wednesday, she would either sell the house or burn it.” At 10 o’clock p.m., a fellow met Valentine there at Wellesley Street, and the two headed into another room for an hour. Then Valentine returned to Paddington Villa.

There, another witness, Lillie Cash from the White House, said she heard Valentine say to the girls, “they would not care if she was dying; no one cared for her. She was angry; stamped her foot on the floor, and went hastily into her room.”

At 1 a.m., Julia checked the house, looking at all the doors and fastenings, before heading to bed.

The fire which later consumed the building was noticed just on 2.30 a.m., and at 2.40 a.m. the fire alarm was sounded. Lizzie Hennessey was the first to see the fire, and banged on Julia’s bedroom door to wake her up. All the women were evacuated safely; their gentlemen callers legged it as fast as they could, many without their proper dress, over the back fence. Paddington Villa burned completely to the ground, despite the best efforts of the firemen who made their way with difficulty into the narrow street, and fought not just the villa’s fire, but that of a fence across the road which also caught alight.

Julia’s girls sought refuge with the Quoi family down the road, and across at Polly Burnes’ brick house. Madame Valentine fled further than that, located and eventually arrested by the police at a Nelson Street house. South British Insurance, faced with paying out on a £300 policy held by the architect William Henry Skinner on the house (as mortgagor), as well as £100 for furniture etc. held by Madame Valentine, declared “foul play” and so Madame Valentine was charged with arson. After a two day police court hearing, the charge was dismissed.

The fire, however, had a greater effect on the girls of Rokeby Street than any police notices or newspaper editorials. The brothels there, it was reported, were abandoned; however, Rokeby Street and Julia Wilson were inextricably linked even down to 1891, when a letter to the Observer noted that she was in charge of a house called “Pearlshell Villa”, where there were her “lillies”, “who toil not neither do they spin, and of whom it is reported that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Observer, 20 June 1891)

In 1904, the name of the street was officially changed to Chamberlain Street (public notice, Observer, 14 May 1904); by 1908 and the compilation of the Auckland City Council map, it was Waverley Street.

After the Rokeby Street fire, nothing further is known about Madame Valentine. Black Julia continued in the profession until at least 1892 here in Auckland. She may have travelled south to Wellington later, although madams and prostitutes those days changed names readily, so it is difficult to be certain. An Annie Smith in Wellington was said to have had the alias of Julia Wilson (Evening Post, 4 July 1903); she was found guilty of importuning in Ghuznee Street, and later for importuning again in 1912 (EP, 18 January 1912).

Image: Auckland Regional Council website. Waverley Street, 2001, centre.

Today, Rokeby/Waverley Street is mainly commercial offices and carparks. There’s one interesting building there at No. 4, a brick building which may date from the time after the 1885 fire (rebuilt with the insurance money?) and could be around where Paddington Villa once stood. Just down from that building, at no. 8, an escort agency and massage parlour is advertised (as at today’s date, online).

Sole survivors, apparently, from the days of Rokeby Street’s “unsavory” 19th century reputation.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Mt Albert street names revisited

Back in February, I had a wee bleat about Kenneth & Leslie Avenues, and Collins and Ethel Street. Mainly, the bleat was about the Auckland City Library database. I'd sent a link at the time to the library -- and nothing happened.

Last week, I brought this up at the library ... and now, it's fixed. Kenneth & Leslie have been separated from the Elihu Shaw connection.

And ... my bleat about Carrington Road has been responded to as well. Even Frederick Street has had the Frederic A. Carrington connection removed.

My thanks to David Verran, and Auckland City Libraries.

Theft of Devonport's fountain horses

Story here.

From the article:
"Devonport Community Board is looking at options for replacing brass horses that were stolen from the memorial fountain at Windsor Reserve.

It is suspected the sculptures, which board chairman Mike Cohen says are valued around $20,000, were stolen because of the price of the material.

Otherwise the act was plain vandalism.

"Either way we were greatly disappointed," says Mr Cohen.

The structure is a memorial to the Boer War.

It was originally located at the site of the reserve’s bandstand before being moved next to the street."

Whoever did this -- you are greedy ratbags. You are heritage desecrators. You're the same lowlifes who nick the plaques from off the graves of our war veterans. Those horses were beautiful, and loved by many, you swines.

I hope they can be replaced somehow, before the Super City thing kicks in -- but then again, you'd probably nick the next lot, eh? Bastards.


Link to a stock photo close-up of what used to be there.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Pt. Chevalier Times No. 4, April 2009

Scribd link here.

For the first time since the Pt Chevalier Times was inaugurated late last year, it's hit the four-page mark, due to my being curious as to the background of the line of shops and retail locations in a small block from Huia Road to Pt Chevalier Road (the old alignment of Pt. Chevalier Road, before they "corrected" it to the present one.) So, I went digging around in Auckland City Archives' wonderful valuation field sheets collection, their planning records aperture files, and Land Information NZ's online deposited plans and certificates of title (within economic reason. Getting too excited with LINZ stuff is expensive!)

Now, I'll have to make the wee journal official, send copies to National Library in Wellington, etc. Looks like it just might survive.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Matamata 6: the other part of Centennial Drive


The northern part of Matamata's Centennial Drive doesn't have anywhere near the heritage features as the older one I posted about earlier. It is, of course, much newer: the older part dates from a plantation reserve set aside by Matamata's early settlement town planning, in 1904, and enhanced for the nation's centennial by later volunteer efforts. The new one was set aside as a reserve only when adjacent residential areas were subdivided around the 1970s-1980s and up to 1997 wasn't open for its entire length. As with the other walk, I went round in the opposite direction with what the guidesheet advised.

The first spot you come across is the Jim Gardiner Grove. The raised bed around the seat must take a lot of maintenance. A wild beer bottle had sprouted the day I passed by.

The grove is in honour of a local horticulturalist, and was so named in 1989. Essntially, though, it is a short footpath between some trees. If the raised bed was planted out, that might look quite pretty (of course, the plants may be gone in a twinkling, if some folk down in Matamata are anything like some here in Auckland ...

It would be a nice place to sit and dream, though.

Founders' Park. I had hopes for this place. It was dedicated as Founders' Memorial Park on 15 December 1965 "as a memorial to Wiremu Tamihana, Rev. Alfred Brown, and Josiah Firth.


There's supposed to be a Kate Sheppard Camellia Garden here, and a plaque for the centenary of NZ women's suffrage, 1893-1993. I found neither. But, the trees are lovely.


The sign saying "Tom Grant Drive" utterly threw me: had I come all this way, just to get lost in the wilds of Matamata suburbia? No -- this, at the Tawari Street end, is the entrance to the northern part of Centennial Drive. This really is the official name, as per the sign.
"In 2007, after receiving a petition and undertaking community consultation, Matamata-Piako District Council formally adopted the change of name from Centennial Drive North to Tom Grant."
I wish the brochure told me that (but it probably hadn't been updated). Top marks for the sign and the garden around it -- very attractive.


This is about as close as the Tom Grant Drive gets to being anything like its older counterpart. Beyond here ...

... it's mainly like this. Grassy open spaces, a long and winding urban reserve.

The course of subdivision and residential development for Matamata proceeds. In a few years, the view above will be full of new housing, probably close up to the fence and gate -- which, of course, will no longer be there.
Another sign of the times -- farm buildings and structures, with the backdrop of residential development.

Nothing much else to say about Centennial Drive North. It's a fairly long walk, there are few memorial structures like cairns or plaques, and mainly it's just a nice pleasant walk. I think they should separate it from the older drive and adjacent heritage spots. It really isn't much of a heritage trail sort of area -- unless, of course, they followed Olympic Park's lead from up here and popped in some artworks for people to find while they stroll.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

NZ's lost city in Egypt

Interesting article today from the NZ Herald on Maadi Camp near Cairo, constructed for Kiwi troops during the Second World War.
"All that remains of a city of 76,000 New Zealanders in the Egyptian desert are two small metal plaques.

Tents and huts which World War II soldiers called home have been swallowed by the megacity of Cairo. A larger monument to the men and women who lived and trained at Maadi Camp beside the River Nile was removed when Egypt seized control of the Suez Canal and rubbed out all signs of a colonial presence.

Two years ago, author Alex Hedley started his search for New Zealand's far-off staging post. He discovered the history of a town that no longer exists but which 60 years ago had bars, shops, pie and icecream factories, dining halls, cinemas, chapels, clinics, libraries and a swimming pool built by General Bernard "Tiny" Freyberg for soldiers under his command.

"You couldn't imagine a more different place to go," says Hedley. "We are talking about young New Zealand men who had never been overseas finding themselves in a culturally alien landscape. They were in an Arab world, an Islamic world - it was a long way from their home town."

More at the link.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Carrying history up Station Hill


Back on Thursday, 26 March, I received an email from the local library where they were looking after this for me. Redecorating was about to happen down there, and the aerial photo had to be relocated. I came to the conclusion that the best place for it was at my place. So, I headed to the library, uplifted it, and carried it up the top part of Rosebank Road to Blockhouse Bay Road, the old Station Hill route, and headed for base.

Now, the aerial is mine, bought from a local dealer. It is a shot from somewhere over New Lynn way, looking NNE (or so) out over the Avondale Racecourse (centre foreground), with Great North Road snaking its way on the right, and Ash Street and the top part of Rosebank Peninsula on the left. It's a White's Aviation photo (the original is at the Alexander Turnbull today) from December 1958 -- 50 years ago. It stands around 6 feet wide by around 3.5 feet -- odd but true, it's bigger than I am. It was interesting carrying it up the hill that day. I'd stop both for breathers (me? Fit? Nah ...) and also so passers-by could halt, gasp, and start pointing at landmarks they remembered. All races, all creeds, all ages. One bloke chatted about days gone by at the racecourse. Had a bit of sore right arm for a while afterward, but -- it was a very, very good morning for local heritage. Toots and thumbs up from passing truck drivers was a welcome thing as well.

The small image here does not do this thing justice. For anyone 40 years and older , and who grew up here or lived a long time in Avondale -- they stop, stare, and can't help starting to discuss the features, both sharp and those blurred by the distance from the lens. If I can, I'll try to organise a public display this year in Avondale of heritage images and other stuff, with this humungous beauty as a star for the occasion. All I have to do now is sort out the logistics of getting it back down Station Hill ...

Timespanner gets a mention on "Reading the Maps"

I've posted about the Reading the Maps blog before, and I still like it a lot. I follow it to get another point of view, in variance to the shrillness of mass media these days. Besides, when Maps gets into heritage, it is done beautifully.

To my surprise and, yes, delight, Timespanner was included in Maps' provisional Indie Kiwi Blog top 10. Means a lot, after coming home from a day peering at books and writing from decades ago, I tell you. Very cool.

Another early Avondale Railway Station photo?


Auckland City Libraries' Special Collections have very kindly given me permission to publish the above photograph (reference 7-A10056) from their heritage images collection. It shows Avondale Railway Station, sometime during the 1890s. Below is a detail from the photograph.


Now, I had made enquiries to Papakura Historical Society as to any records they have on one Amos Eyes (main previous post here.) To my pleasant surprise, they replied with an envelope full of photocopies of pages from the Papakura Town Board minutes of the 1890s (which had notations pointing to the fact that Amos Eyes wasn't keeping the frontages to his properties there trimmed back, and so eventually faced a charge levied by the Board who had to carry out the work themselves), along with photocopies of images related to Amos Eyes from their collection at the Papakura & Districts Museum. One image in particular caught my eye:


This is labelled "Amos Eyes." He seemed to have a permanent squint in his photos (either that, or the photographer kept insisting that the poor man stand with his face towards the sun on a bright day). Others in the series sent up feature him supposedly with his sons Charles and John (Amos John Thomas Eyes) -- unfortunately, althought both men in the other photos are in railway uniform, Charles Eyes wasn't in the railways during the time his father was station master first at Papakura from around 1879, and then at Avondale from 1889. Charles was a farmer, at Papakura then at Waima in Northland from 1896, according to electoral rolls. John Eyes was a farmer in Papakura in 1890, then I failed to locate his name in the upper North Island, until 1902, after his father had died, when he turned up at Avondale as a carpenter. I haven't been able to determine, at this stage, whether he worked on the railways or not.

What drew my attention to the above image of Amos Eyes was that it looked very similar, although at a different angle, to the corner detail from the Special Collections photo. We know, with certainty, that the library's image is that of Avondale station -- and if it is the 1890s, Amos Eyes is probably in that shot (I think there's a man with large whiskers down near the left foreground of the cropped image). The rail line at Papakura is dead straight (and unless there wasw a major realignment there, it probably always was) -- while Avondale does curve towards Crayford Street, as seen behind Amos' back. If that's Avondale, he's standing on the early rudimentary platform, and to the right is part of the weatherboard outer wall of the goods shed seen in the full image at top.

I'd appreciate knowing what readers of this post think: could this be an early Avondale image?