Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Waterview Heritage Character Study (2006): now online


This was researched and written by Jack Dragicevich, and published by the Avondale-Waterview Historical Society in 2006, in response to earlier plans for the SH20 motorway where it was reported that hundreds of houses in Waterview would be bowled. Since then, we've seen the tunnel idea come and go -- and now, we're back to around 300 houses likely to be demolished for the new motorway.

Here are the links to the complete book, online at Scribd:

Preface.
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Chapter 1: Early Settlement (19th century Waterview)
Chapter 3: The State Housing Era (1930s-1950s)
Chapter 4: The Modern Era (1960s-2006)
Photo supplement part 1
Photo supplement part 2
Waterview Street Names
Summary
Index

Waterview and the motorway

Latest Herald article online.

Whichever way this goes, the SH20 extension through Waterview and along the Oakley Creek will compromise environmental, ecological and heritage values in that area. I'm just finishing off a piece for the Point Chevalier Times on what happened with SH16 was finished off through Pt Chevalier -- every where I turn, these days, there's more motorway stuff, it seems.

I'll be back later with some links to Scribd -- Jack Dragicevich has given me permission to put his Waterview Heritage Study online. Thanks, Jack, and thanks also to Phil who emailed me about Waterview and the motorway today (keep in touch, Phil, and keep asking those questions.)

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Fireworks come to the Auckland Domain, 1903


These days, Aucklanders almost take for granted that, each year, there will be spectacular fireworks shows in the volcanic crater of the Domain, the cricket ground beside the War Memorial Museum. I’ve been to a couple myself, for one wrapped in a warming blanket gazing upward at a brightly illuminated night sky. (My friend Mad Bush will surely back me up that the walk back to the city across the Grafton Bridge, from that one, in a massive tide of people at 11 o’clock at night or so is an experience as well!) But, more than a hundred years ago, such events were still a wondrous novelty.

It was late 1903. Already, those New Zealanders lucky enough to do so had witnessed fireworks spectaculars across the Tasman at Sydney and Melbourne since the turn of the new century. Some small displays had been offered before in Auckland but, so it seems, not at the Domain before now. For 28th October 1903, the Crystal Palace Fireworks Company promised Aucklanders a real treat.
“Mr T. Gaunt, the company's expert, has given some very large displays in Australia. The first programme will consist of the bombardment of the Taku Forts in China by six battleships built entirely of fireworks. The ships will manoeuvre and fire broadside, finally silencing and blowing up the forts. In addition, there will be a general display, of fireworks, consisting of mechanical figures, such as performing monkeys on horizontal bars, flying pigeons, dovecotes, and cyclists riding, clowns on see-saw, etc. Then there are revolving wheels, small wheels, large wheels, and wheels within wheels, revolving suns, Oriental trees, Chinese pagodas, Niagara Falls of liquid fires, and innumerable designs, all in fireworks. The grounds will be brilliantly illuminated with Chinese lanterns and fairy lights, and a first-class promenade concert will be given during the evening by the First Battalion Infantry Band. The Cricket Ground is easily accessible from all parts of the city and suburbs, and owing to the natural formation, the displays cannot be seen without going inside. This will stop that class of people who dearly love a show for nothing.”
(Observer, 24 October 1903)

All, however, did not go entirely to plan. The display was witnessed by an estimated 10,000 people, “one of the biggest crowds which was ever seen on the Domain cricket .ground”, but some “disgraceful scenes” took place. “On account of the very inadequate arrangements made at the gates… the crowds taking charge and pressing past the Carrier at the main entrance … Altogether upwards of 25 per cent of those on the ground gained admission without payment. (Bay Of Plenty Times, 30 October 1903) That wasn’t the half of it. The Auckland Star later reported that the event had been “ruined by larrikins who invaded the grounds, smashed the fittings, and stole a great deal of the fireworks …” (Star, 28 November 1903) Well, I suppose they may have expected that they were asking for trouble, having such a display so close to Guy Fawkes …
“There was a dreadful rush to get on the Domain Cricket Ground on the night of the fireworks. Some people waited for nearly an hour before they could get tickets, and hundreds got so tired that they went in without paying, and through a gate, too. There were some police present, but their eyes were on the fences and not on the gates, as one stout lady found to her sorrow. Despairing of entering any other way, the dame, in company with another, boldly essayed to escalade the hedge. Her companion got through all right, but the obese dowager found herself suddenly seized by the foot. With a yell she turned round, and saw a most ungallant bobby tugging at her new prunella Number Ten. She raised her umbrella to strike, when she suddenly capsized and fell inside the fence. The sudden jerk caused her boot to slip, and the constable collapsed on the other side. The contesting parties did not meet again, and the lady saw the fireworks standing on one foot. What the policeman did with the boot is not recorded.
(Observer, 7 November 1903)

Undaunted, Mr. Gaunt soldiered on, offering we colonials another taste of his pyrotechnic magic in time for King Edward VII’s birthday on 9th November.

"Those who want to wind up the King's Birthday appropriately, and at the same time secure an hour or two of pure enjoyment, will do well to visit the Domain Cricket Ground on Monday, evening. The Crystal Palace Fireworks Company, whose local representative is Mr. W. H. Hazard, have arranged to carry out in its entirety the grand programme that was somewhat wantonly interfered with on its first presentation, last week. Every precaution has been taken to suppress the exuberant larrikin, and the public may feel confident that their comfort will be conserved. The display includes a series of fairy illuminations, rockets, bombs, etc., in bewildering variety, and; will wind up with a realistic representation of the historic bombardment of the Taku Forts by the British and French some forty years ago. This is the battle in which the French admiral is alleged by a veracious bluejacket to have committed suicide by shooting himself, while the British admiral exhibited what appeared to be cowardice, but that is another story. There will be a musical concert with appropriate items and the Battalion Band will attend and play a number of selections.”
(Observer, 7 November 1903)

The promoters promised faithfully that “interference with the Comfort of Patrons or the Progress of the Performance will be promptly suppressed.”

I don’t have the reports to hand as to how this show went, but Mr Hazard and Mr. Gaunt were back again for another go on 27 November. This time, the police were definitely out in force. They reported success against the larrikins, but “not without considerable difficulty.

One John O’Brien (22) was charged the next day in the police court with “using threatening behaviour in the Auckland Domain with intent, to cause a breach of the peace, and also with resisting Constable Macartney in the execution of his duty.” Leonard De Courcy (18) was charged with “inciting persons to assault Constable Macartney”. The constable testified that several stones were thrown, striking him and others tasked with watching the fence around the display area. He saw O’Brien “leaning over the fence brandishing a piece of wood, and trying to strike one of the men inside.” O’Brien apparently legged it on being spotted by the constable, but during the chase threw several of the reported stones, joined in that sport by his companions as O’Brien struggled to avoid capture and arrest. “Stone the police!” came the shouts. O’Brien was offered a choice of £5 fine or a month’s hard labour – he chose the latter. (Auckland Star, 28 November 1903)

The Crystal Palace Fireworks Company went on to stage two more shows that year, and both appeared to be as successful but not so criminally dramatic as the previous ones. Despite the rocky start, Auckland’s love affair with public (free) firework displays at the Domain had begun.

Advertisement image from Papers Past.Click on it for magnified view.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

All Welcome at the Pt Chevalier History Group meetings


Heading into the Pt Chevalier Community Library last week for our meeting -- this is what greeted us in the foyer.

The sign was drawn up by a staff member at the library. As something utterly ephemeral, a piece of artwork with markers on a whiteboard -- I reckon it's darn well impressive. If anyone wants to know how supportive the local library has been of the new history group -- here's proof.

“Blown to Atoms” – the end of the “Cloud”, 10 November 1909

Image: A hulk in Toulon, 19th century. From Wiki.

To those of us here in the television age, the story leading up to the end of the Auckland Harbour Board’s powder hulk Cloud in November 1909 could read almost like a “Seconds from Disaster” script. Or perhaps an old-style “Boy’s Own” adventure.

Hulks, ships demasted and converted to become floating warehouses and prisons, had been in use for centuries. In New Zealand, one of the earliest examples was the Marion, a former barque used as a powder magazine early in the 1860s. In 1862, due to a risk of her sinking with a load of gunpowder on board (a considerable amount was indeed ruined by the water - Southern Cross, 28 February 1862) the Marion later served as a holding place for Maori prisoners during the Waikato War. In November 1864 the hulk was sold by the Crown via J. S. Macfarlane, along with a quantity of coal, to Henderson & Macfarlane, and served as a coal hulk. In early April 1866, the hulk sank during a gale off the Auckland Harbour breakwater with 500 tons of coal on board. Now, the Marion impeded shipping, so efforts to raise her were made in August, but without success. The Public Works Department made a successful attempt to clear the sunken wreck with gunpowder from 23-25 January 1867. In a way, she returned in 1907, when pieces of timber dredged up by the Auckland Harbour Board 300 feet from the Railway Wharf were thought at the time to be from the Marion’s remains. (Taranaki Herald, 5 September 1907)

Back to the 1870s. The departure of the 18th regiment in 1870, leaving behind a considerable quantity of explosives, caused the Southern Cross to ponder whether it was time for the authorities to consider purchasing a powder hulk. (SC, 8 April 1870) As it turned out, a powder magazine was set up at Mt Eden gaol, but by 1876, the Harbour Board itself considered whether it was worth while buying a hulk to use for the storage of explosives, to encourage importers to stop using storage areas at Queen Street wharf. (SC, 12 July 1876)

It took a while – quite a long while – but, the Observer reported in July 1899 that a hulk had been purchased by the Chairman of the Harbour Board, William J. Napier. This despite the preference for a dry land magazine store by Auckland merchants. (Observer, 8 July 1899) This purchase appears to have been that of the 350 ton former barque Cloud, originally built in Spain, according to later post-explosion reports from the Herald and Star. The first reference I was able to find for the Cloud via Papers Past was when she had had a mishap in late April 1898: her main top gallant-mast had been carried away while en route from Lady Elliot Island to Dunedin, forcing her to put into Sydney for repairs. (Grey River Argus 2 May 1898) Duly repaired, the Cloud continued trans-Tasman trading, purchased by a Mr. Carlan from Auckland (or, this could have been Carlaw, as the later papers reported the owners as the Carlaw Brothers), and on 28th February 1899 she left Newcastle, loaded with coal and bound for Wellington. Arriving at Wellington, the coal discharged, the Cloud then sailed for Port Albert to reload for a return voyage across the Tasman to Sydney (Evening Post, 30 March 1899).

Then, a year after the mast mishap off the New South Wales coast, the Cloud ran aground after leaving the wharf at Port Albert. She had just been loaded with timber – now, in early May 1899, she was badly damaged, taking on water. Her deck cargo was removed to try to refloat her, but eventually the insurance company declared her unsalvageable, and agreed to have her towed to Auckland for repairs “as a raft” to be sold. (Evening Post, 11 May 1899) The end of her career was to be as the Auckland Harbour Board’s powder magazine hulk – dismantled and converted by W. H. Brown for the Board.

For the next ten years, the Observer tut-tutted about the Cloud and the Auckland Harbour Board’s decision to buy same, and how it really didn’t appear to be used for the purpose.
“The Harbour Board appears to have pursued a very blundersome policy in the matter of powder storage. After spending pretty nearly £1500 on a hulk, and paying a man something like £2 a week to look after her, month after month has gone by and not en ounce of powder has been stored in her yet. And, by all accounts, there is no likelihood that any will be stored there. These extravagant blunders are too frequent.”
(Observer, 27 January 1900)

“The powder hulk has proved its title to be included amongst the list of the Harbour Board's white elephants. During the year, it has involved a loss of just about £80 on working expenses, to say nothing whatever of interest, depreciation, insurance, and other charges. The cost of the hulk was£ls6o, so that at 5 per cent, this represents £78 for interest, and, at 10 per cent.,--£156 for depreciation. Seeing that the gross earnings of the hulk are £12 17s 4d per month, it is difficult to see how it is going to pay expenses, apart altogether from the other charges.”
(Observer, 14 December 1901)

Eventually, it seems, the agents for explosives importers and manufacturers did begin to use the hulk as intended. Originally the Cloud was anchored off Bean Rock but, when it was felt that this location was a hazard to shipping, the hulk was moved to a spot near the mouth of the Tamaki River and St Heliers. On 10 November 1909, there were 22 tons of explosives on board, mainly blasting powder in loose and pellet form, with the remainder of the weight being gelignite. It was by no means fully loaded – but there was enough for the bang.

Earlier that month, Mr. Finch had been appointed as the custodian of the hulk. He and his wife lived on board the powder magazine for ten days, with all their furniture, clothing, and savings. At six o’clock in the morning on the 10th of November, Finch woke up and started to wash down the decks as he did every morning. His wife cooked breakfast for them both in the galley, located in the vessel’s after-end. He smelled burning as he worked, went to check to see if Mrs. Finch was burning wood in her stove, but she wasn’t. Mystified, Finch returned to work – then saw smoke coming up from the hatch.

Going down below, he was confronted by a dense cloud of smoke in the hold, but he couldn’t make out where it was coming from. Heading back up, he told a reporter from the Herald, he noticed a red glare through an aperture in the scroll. At this point, he took up an axe to cut through the decking – only to find that, by then, “the whole of the interior was one great, glowing mass”.

The couple then proceeded desperately to put out the fire, Mr. Finch bringing up buckets of sea water, while Mrs. Finch brought buckets of water from the deck’s tanks. Eventually, the tanks ran out, and Mrs. Finch collapsed from exhaustion. Finch then placed her in the available small boat, and cut it adrift. Then, he went back to trying to douse the flames.

Eventually, he decided to try to scuttle the vessel, but there was a delay in finding a tool to smash through the hull (he found a blunt axe – it isn’t reported what he’d done with the one with which he’d earlier chopped through the decking) and when he got down in the forward hold, it was too smoky to breathe. After two attempts, he collapsed unconscious on the deck, only to regain consciousness and find that the fire had now reached the decking. At that point, finally, he realised there was no hope of saving the hulk from the fire. He leapt overboard and swam for the small boat. He just barely managed to reach it before his strength gave out – his wife hauled him up out of the water. Together, they rowed for a reef off the Tamaki coast, and were picked up there by the scow Ida, which took them to North Head. All the while, what remained of the Cloud burned – until at 20 minutes past 1 in the afternoon, it blew up.

George Taylor, signalman at Mt. Victoria station at Devonport, had seen the vessel clearly that morning as it had started to burn. He heard the explosion, saw the tall pillar of smoke, and immediately telephoned the Harbour Board office. When the smoke cleared, there was not a trace left of the hulk. As the Herald had headlined the story, it was as if the Cloud had blown completely to atoms.

The shock of the explosion, actually two separate blasts in succession, was felt and heard over the entire isthmus, along the North Shore, and as far away as Henderson and the Coromandel Peninsula. At the time, it was regarded as the biggest explosion Auckland had ever experienced, and likened by many to that of an earthquake shock, or something like the eruption at Tarawera from 1886. Everyone feared for the Finches’ safety – but Mr. Finch, completing his unexpected day of derring-do, reported as soon as he could later that afternoon to the Harbour Board office. (I can only imagine what was said: “I wish to report, with regret, sir, that your powder hulk has blown up. Sorry about that ...”)

The Herald’s account of the story is a descriptive gem – so much so that the Observer, with a very evident sigh, remarked:
“The sensation of the week has been the blowing up of the powder hulk — or, rather, not so much the blowing up as the "Herald's" account of it. The "Star " lamentably failed to rise to the occasion, and Grandma evidently registered a solemn vow to get ahead of her reptile contemporary, or bust. She got ahead per medium of three and a-half columns of penny dreadful reading, surmounted by thrilling and awe-inspiring double-column headlines. Undoubtedly, the most wonderful part of the affair was the narrative of Finch, the caretaker of the hulk. Anybody who will deliberately remain for hours in a burning powder hulk is either a hero or something else. However, 'tis a certainty that nobody can contradict Finch's yarn, even if he desired to do so.

"Grandma's thrilling yarn was rich in unconscious humour, and the further it went the richer it became, leading people to the supposition that the frenzied scribe who wrote it drew his information from peculiar sources. The gem of the whole collection is undoubtedly this thriller: "A workman engaged on the erection of a house at St. Helier's Bay had his hat blown off, and another had to make a second attempt to light his pipe."

"This, when you come to think of it, is simply sublime. Evidently, in Grandma's opinion, it is quite an uncommon occurrence for a man, even when working on a roof on a windy day, to have his hat blown off, or to make two attempts to light his pipe. It's lucky we don't have a powder hulk explosion every day. If we did, the venerable female would go mad — or madder than she is already. “
(Observer, 20 November 1909)

That said, though, the Observer still published a long and flowery poem in Finch’s honour. Finch, it is said, was cleared of culpability, although it was suggested that sparks from the galley may have found their way into the hold, starting the fire off.

The whole affair came to a close in June the following year with the Auckland Harbour Board successfully sued by the explosives owners for £1069 13s. (Evening Post) According to Paul Titchener in his local history articles later that century, the Harbour Board then decided it was wisest to set up a powder magazine on land instead. I’d say such a store would definitely have been “no cooking allowed”.

Makaurau Marae and the airport


Image from Wiki. Originally sourced from LINZ, crown copyright.

An article today from the NZ Herald caught my eye.

"The buried remains of 85 bodies have been exhumed by construction of the second runway at Auckland Airport - angering local Maori whose ancestors were unearthed.

The airport company first discovered koiwi - skeletal pre-European remains believed to be more than 600 years old - in March last year.

An archaeological report of the findings has been sent to the Historic Places Trust but members of the Makaurau Marae, in Mangere, say the desecration of waahi tapu must stop.

Marae spokesman Saul Roberts said that Auckland International Airport Ltd was shown burial sites in the proposed second runway "before a spade was put in the ground".

The airport company was granted authority by the Historic Places Trust to go ahead with the $32 million project, so any remains accidentally dug up could be removed."

The marae authorities expected one or two exhumations, but 85 sets of remains have been taken, and they say there could be many more.

According to this site:

"Makaurau Marae is one of many Marae in Mangere that are affiliated with the Tainui area. The people of Makaurau Marae are affiliated to the sub-tribes of Te Waiohua and Te Akitai, and have direct links to Te Ahiwaru, which is a descendant of the Chiefs of the Tainui Region."
Te Waiohua once held the mana as tangata whenua over the Tamaki Makaurau area, the isthmus of Auckland, with its last paramount chief Kiwi Tamaki defeated by Ngati Whatua as recently as the late 18th century. I was aware that the Mangere area was where the Waiouhua people fled during the war which ended their hold of the isthmus.

The Waitangi Tribunal looked at Maori claims in the Manukau area back in 1985, including the area around the airport and the sewerage purification works, but then (as they were looking at specific instances such as civil defence areas and fishing restrictions) they came to the conclusion that:
The Auckland International Airport was cited as an example of the way recent major developments for Auckland have been proposed on or near to the last remaining pieces of Maori land. After hearing submissions on behalf of the Auckland Regional Authority and the Civil Aviation Division of the Ministry of Transport, we are satisfied that the Mangere site was not chosen, as some thought, because some of the affected lands were Maori land and therefore easy to acquire. It appears that a number of other factors influenced the site decision made by Cabinet in 1955. By the same token there was no indication that Maori land was involved. No consideration was given to the fact that Maoris ought to be protected in the ownership of their land. We were referred to only one factor seen as an obstacle, namely "that the area was high quality agricultural land (dairying)".
And that, then, was that.

I'd need to know more about this before spouting an opinion, but if human remains are being unearthed without the apparent consent of those claiming descendancy, surely there must be something out of kilter, here. A lot of trouble was taken when the graves were removed for the original Grafton Gully motorway project last century. I'd have thought that similar respect would have been accorded here.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Fires, fan-tan and opium: Auckland’s Wakefield Street

Image: Looking up Wakefield Street from Mayoral Drive.

Wakefield Street. Today, to me, it’s the place where I head for land history information, to the Auckland office of Land Information at Oracle Tower (while LINZ still has a presence here in Auckland city, but that presence is dwindling month by month as the government department retracts and slowly closes down here in the City of Sails). In times past, it was a main route out of the Queen Street valley up to the Symonds Street ridge. One heck of a gut-buster walk uphill, mind.

William Swainson wrote in 1852: “Wakefield-street ascends from its southern extremity until it joins the Cemetery-road; and is the newest and most increasing street in the town. Many of the houses are built of brick, and it already bears a considerable resemblance to a new street in the outskirts of a modern English town.” (New Zealander, 12 May 1852)

But, as the unknown author of “Old Auckland”, an article from the Cyclopedia of NZ, 1902, put it:
"Such was Auckland when it had been struggling into a position of importance for a dozen years, when it was a portion of a “borough” of 40,000 acres, when it had caught a foretaste of the gold fever, and when it was preparing to take on “Parliamentary Honours.” Ponsonby was a blank of waste land, Upper Queen Street, in embryo, and Shortland Crescent and Wakefield Street the only outlets to the east and south, and these two very rough. Wakefield Street, the better of the two, was blessed with a grade of one in eight or nine in those days; but all the omnibuses for Onehunga had to take it. Verily, Auckland's early road engineers were horse-killers of the first magnitude. No engineering difficulty whatever was there to hinder Wakefield Street being started at the foot of Victoria Street East, and finished at the top of Alexandra Street, at a level which would have served for all time, and better than any that has been since found. Wakefield Street, which Mr. Swainson mentions so favourably, is of less value and importance to-day than it was then. Indeed, the street might now be made from Victoria Street without cutting through property of much value, while the allotments abutting on a street with so sensible a grade would soon be very valuable. Whether Auckland ever will get a reasonably easy grade out of the hole in which the business part lies is now doubtful; but it had excellent chances in those days.”
So, yes – in the main, Wakefield Street’s gradient told against it becoming a major centre in early Auckland. But, people still lived, worked and died here. It has a long and eventful history.

A remnant of old Wakefield Street is the former Fitzroy Hotel, 75-77 Wakefield Street, on the Lyndock Street corner. Originally built in 1857, it is a survivor, through cosmetic changes to its façade, from the days when hotels sat beside residences in this mainly working class area. It’s been the site for public legal battles over its continued survival in recent years. It’s a place of some mystery, though. Two human skulls were found in a well there in 1885. (Grey River Argus, 14 March 1885)

Fires were common in Auckland in the 1800s, and Wakefield Street was no exception. Mr. Carlisle, a milliner down at the junction of Queen and Wakefield, was an extremely fortunate man in March 1863. Some of his sale articles were knocked down close to an open flame as he reached to close his shutters. He was lucky in that a sergeant and two or three other soldiers from the 40th regiment happened to be passing, on the way to their homes, having filled their pails with water from the Queen Street pump. They saw what was happening, dashed into the shop, and doused the flames. (Southern Cross, 30 March 1863)

A former painter named William George Williams decided to end his days in Wakefield Street, but in an almost ritualistic manner. Depressed, recently under the care of Dr. Philson, in October 1865 he entered a house in the street, took a small box with him into one of the front rooms, sat on it, then placed a paint-pot on the floor to catch the blood as he thrust a sharpened penknife into his neck. His body was found, fallen backwards over the box, the knife dropped to the ground beside the paint pot. (Taranaki Herald, 21 October 1865)

Another death in Wakefield Street, this time not suicide but sheer accident, was that of Mr. E. Johnson. He’d developed a lung infection, from a very bad cold, and his doctor prescribed two medications, one a cough mixture, the other to be rubbed on his chest. This was, of course, in the days before Vicks Vaporub (as an aside, I well remember the effect, as a wee kiddy, of inadvertently rubbing that stuff in the eyes … ow …) but Dr. Goldsbro’s external prescription was for something far stronger. So strong, it was poisonous. At half past twelve on 17 October 1869, after a hearty supper at the conclusion of a day spent working in his drapers shop (Powley & Johnson, Queen Street), he lay in his bed at home in Wakefield Street and decided to have some of the cough mixture. However, the swig he took was from the wrong bottle. He went to sleep directly afterward, resting uneasily until he awoke in the morning to realise his mistake. Emetics and the stomach pump proved futile; he died eight hours after ingesting the poison. The inquest blamed Mrs. Johnson, his widow, for not paying proper attention to the deceased. (Nelson Examiner and New Zealand Chronicle, 3 November 1869)

Butchers shops in the 1860s slaughtered animals on the premises. In the days before refrigeration, that was one of the only ways to keep meat reasonably fresh. Of course, living next to these mini-slaughter houses wasn’t wonderful, and the city authorities waged war against them foir decades. One Richard Stanton Sandle in Wakefield Street was charged and fined for killing sheep on his premises. (Southern Cross, 26 September 1866) A few years later, his establishment burned down in a fire.

The Presbyterians built a “Protestant Hall” in Wakefield Street in 1866.
“The newly-erected Protestant Hall in Wakefieldstreet was opened last evening by a public soiree and musical entertainment, under very auspicious circumstances. The hall was crowded to overflowing throughout the evening, and numbers were unable to gain admission. The building had been erected under the management of a committee of the Protestant Association, and is intended as a place of meeting for the members of the association, as well as religious purposes. The building is plain, but very suitable for a somewhat numerous assemblage. It is 40 feet long by 24 feet in width, and possesses vestries at the back. There is also a small gallery over the entrance suitable for choir or orchestra, which was occupied last evening by a strong band of instrumentalists. The building has been erected by private subscriptions, and it is confidently hoped will be free from debt before the year closes. It has been put up at a cost of £170, by Messrs. Coote and Co., £120 of which has already been subscribed, and the balance paid by promissory note falling due on the 21st December. The interior was gaily decorated with flags, banners, devices, and flowers, and showed that great pains had been taken by the committee to ensure success on the opening night.”
(Southern Cross, 6 November 1866)

Now, remember, this was a Protestant Hall, and supported by Presbyterians. Hardly the sort of place one would expect would attract accusations of being a hotbed of immorality and licentious acts, surely? Wrong.

“UNLICENSED DANCING-PLACES.
To the Editor of the Daily Southern Cross. Sir,— Immorality is undoubtedly very rife at present in Auckland. It therefore behoves every respectable person to inquire into the cause, and use his influence to root out the evil, as far as lies in his power. Your able and well-directed efforts, both in exposing abuses and pointing out their remedies, and also in opening your correspondence columns so freely to any remarks made with a view to improvement, deserve the thanks of the community. I need, therefore, offer no apology for troubling you with the following observations. After some little inquiry and consideration, I have come to the conclusion that dancing-places are a very fruitful source of evil in Auckland ; in fact, I might call them the hotbeds of prostitution, for many a young person is led to her ruin through attending such places …

A dancing place is also kept in the Protestant Hall, Wakefield-street, the management of which I am not so well acquainted with, but believe it is carried on in the same manner as above.”
(Southern Cross, 1 October 1867)

Wakefield Street’s potential hot-bed of vice was destroyed in a major fire in April 1869.

As I said, Wakefield Street, despite its gradient, was a thoroughfare between the valley and the ridge. The Auckland Sunday School Union marched children up there in December 1868 as part of their annual festival.
“After being arranged by the officers and teachers the whole marched up Wakefield-street, preceded by the band of the Auckland Band of Hope, down Symonds-street, and over to the Domain, the band discoursing lively airs all the way. The children — dressed in their best clothes, and carrying banners with appropriate devices— were a very pretty spectacle.”
(Southern Cross, 1 January 1869)

And one of the first steam-powered road vehicles trundled its way up the incline in 1871, a great advertising gimmick by Fraser & Tinne for their Mechanics Bay foundry.
“It will be seen by our advertising columns that another public trial of the Thomson's road steamer lately imported here is to take place to-day at one o'clock. The course will be from the foundry of Messrs. Fraser and Tinne, up Alten Road and down Shortland-street, along Queen-street, up Wakefield-street and along Symonds-street, and down Alten Road to the point of departure. We understand it will convey a trolly loaded with pig iron, so that there will be no difficulty in ascertaining the exact weight it is drawing. The trolly will be loaded with ten tons of pig iron. Carters are cautioned to keep out of the way with their horses to prevent the possibility of accident."
(Southern Cross, 18 September 1871)

Over the course of the years, Wakefield Street would either be packed with buildings of varying standards of construction, or dotted with vacant sections after the inevitable fires had done their work, razing whole blocks to the ground with almost depressing frequency. The vacant lots, although cleared of flammable rubble, still held their dangers in the early days, and not just because of human remains found down the wells, but because of the wells themselves.

"A horse belonging to Mr. James Bryan, a fuel merchant, was drowned yesterday afternoon in the following manner :— There is a vacant allotment of ground in Wakefield-street upon which is an old long-disused well. The boards which covered the well over, being rotten from age and long exposure to the elements, broke in, upon the horse treading on them, when the animal fell in and before aid could be brought to draw it out was drowned."
(Southern Cross, 7 November 1872)



Still, over all the hotels, dancing halls, deaths, suicides and fires – the one theme which made Wakefield Street and its neighbourhood notorious was the establishment of Chinese businesses in the area. This meant public concerns regarding opium, fan-tan and possibly illicit sex were not far behind.

Three doors before the western side of St Pauls Street (once known as Abercrombie Street), and next door to the Garrett Brothers’ bootmaking factory, was a shop run by Ah Yeal Gong or Ah Gong Kee, from around 1882. As was common in the late 19th century, Euro-centric newspapers and directories were free with the placement of Chinese first names and family names, as well as spelling them phonetically and not always correctly. As Gong Kee, he seems to have been confused with another Chinese merchant, Ah Chee, who didn’t have a known business on Wakefield Street. (Chinese brandy police raid, reported in the Marlborough Express of 30 June 1887 mistakenly named Ah Chee.

In April 1883, the Auckland police happened upon a Chinese gambling house on Wakefield Street – after one customer “lost £70 at fan-tan to the keeper, refused to pay up, owing, it is alleged, to his having been cheated, and the keeper of the house detained him a prisoner until the police, hearing of the matter, liberated him.” (Evening Post, 1 May 1883) In June 1885, “nineteen Chinamen were arrested last night while placing fan-tan in a Chinese gambling house in Wakefield street: The keeper of the house, Gang Kee, was today fined £5 and costs, and eighteen other offenders 10s and costs.” (Timaru Herald, 30 June 1885)

The Observer on 4 July 1885 alerted the Auckland public to the “Chinese Den in Wakefield Street.
“THE CHINESE DEN IN WAKEFIELDSTREET.
The Chinese den in Wakefield-street, on which Detective Hughes and his myrmidons made a raid on Sunday evening last, has been in existence, according to the detective, for more than 12 months; and, when the character of the place is borne in mind, it is somewhat surprising that the police did not pay the establishment a visit long ago. It is whispered that Ah Gong Kee's abode has not been exclusively frequented by Chinamen, but that several well-known Auckland citizens have been in the habit of dropping in of an evening at the house in Wakefield-street to indulge in the body-and-mind destroying practice of opium smoking, a habit which, once acquired, is said to be more difficult to break off than that of dram drinking. “

It wasn’t always the Chinese merchants committing the crimes – they were preyed upon by sharp criminals from within the European community.

“Last week a Chinaman named Ah Fook, a storekeeper in Wakefield Street, Auckland, reported to the police that about two a.m. six men entered his shop and asked to be shown over the premises. They said they were policemen, and one was pointed out to him as a sergeant and one a detective. They remained about a quarter of an hour, and then left. After their departure Ah Fook discovered that four opium pipes and 4s in silver, the latter of which were in the till, were missing. Subsequently, Detectives Quirke and McMahon arrested a man named Joseph McDuff Otway on suspicion of being concerned in. the theft. The accused was brought up at the Police Court, and remanded. Sergt. Gamble intimated there were several others concerned in the case, whom it was intended to apprehend.”
(Poverty Bay Herald, 2 July 1895)

A report from the NZ Herald, concerning a sanitary inspection of the slum dwellings which the Wakefield Street area was now also known for, also emphasised what went on in Auckland’s opium dens.

“On Monday morning Dr King, the Medical Officer of Health for the city, and Mr Goldie, Chief Inspector of Nuisances, accompanied by a N.Z. Herald representative who was passing at the time, paid a surprise visit to the Chinese colony in Wakefield street, for the purpose of making an inspection of the sanitary arrangements of the houses inhabited by some — such as, for instance, those who kept shops and were in direct trading relations with Europeans, and those living with their wives and families were found in as good condition as are premises occupied by the average colonial. Some, however, were discovered to be in a shockingly bad condition from a sanitary point of view. The back yards were covered with rubbish of all kinds and rotting garbage, while under one house was a pool of black slime that must have been accumulating for a long time. So bad was the state of things that even in the open air the visitors were compelled to saturate their moustaches with disinfectants in order to allow of their proceeding further. Some of the interiors of the houses were still less inviting. Beds and pallets appeared to be everywhere. In what had been a one-storied structure and in an attic above the ceiling and under the shingles were several beds, while the living rooms presented a picture of undreamt of squalor and filth. Everywhere in this class of house was an overpowering and nauseating smell of opium fumes so strong that Inspector Goldie had to have all the doors opened to let in fresh air before the rooms could be inspected, and then all the party suffered from nausea and severe headache for the rest of the day. Judging from what could be seen opium-smoking and gambling seemed to be the chief, if not almost the only occupations. Though it was not then noon, the appliances for "fan-tan," etc., appeared all ready for use at any moment, while at least a dozen of the little lamps used for lighting the opium were burning on the pallets on which the smokers recline, ready with the pipes, for those who wanted to indulge in the habit. The parties were able to witness the operations of lighting the pipes and the method of smoking, and the ultimate result — the result being the figure of a man, huddled under a lot of old clothes, insensible to the world. One Chinaman, who appeared to be in charge of one of the houses, took the visit very coolly, his only grievance being that the duty on the opiate was too high. The opium smoking, however, was not part of the mission of the health officers, the object of the visit being to inspect the sanitary condition of the premises. The result was that it was determined to at once take steps to condemn at least one of the dwellings as unfit for habitation, and proceed to force the occupants to put the places into something like a sanitary condition. Dr. King said of the houses of the class described, that they were in the worst condition of any he had ever seen.”
(Poverty Bay Herald, 9 August 1895)

The Observer, seeing a chance to hold up Auckland’s resident Chinese against European standards, took it.
“The recent disclosures in Wakefield-street had their sequel in the S.M. Court on Tuesday last, when three Chinamen were summoned for keeping dirty premises. The Health Officer and Corporation officials testified to the unsatisfactory condition of the yards, and by way of excuse John pleaded their dirty state was due to the recent heavy rains. Magistrate Northcroft, however, was not to be taken in so easily, and in passing judgment said he was asked to believe that Dr. King and Inspector Goldie were perjuring themselves. The defendants were sharply spoken to and impressed with the necessity of keeping their yards clean in accordance with European ideas of the fitness of things. Now that a conviction has been recorded, the authorities should not relapse into their former apathy, but see that periodical visits of inspection are paid to these wretched hovels, and make the 'heathen Chinee' live something like a decent life.”
(Observer, 17 August 1895)

This said, at the time the population statistics of Auckland slum dwellers would have dominated by those of European ancestry, rather than Chinese. Of course, shock-horror reports about the “heathen Chinee” sold more papers. The Observer, which also expressed their concerns at that point about Chinese market gardeners and fruit sellers, waded into the situation regarding Chinese laundries as well – and managed to get in another swipe at the Wakefield Street “dens”.
“The Chinese laundrymen are doing a big trade in Auckland, thanks to the women and to the youthful fops who like their shirts made spotlessly white for something less than nothing. There is one laundry in Grey-street where unpatriotic idiots of both sexes send their clothes to be ironed by the evil smelling Chow, while poor and hard working white women are thus deprived of the work which should be theirs, merely for the sake of saving about threepence on a dozen articles Those who patronise the Chinaman in preference to their own countrymen and women deserve to be sentenced to pass a night in one of the Chinese dens in Wakefield-street. They wouldn't send any more clothes to a Chinese laundry.”
(Observer, 12 September 1896)

I mentioned sex earlier – and when it came to providing a shock for the decently-living readers of the newspapers (which sold papers of course), sex even in Victorian times was a winner. In the 1860s, it was rumours of improprieties outside dancing halls. In the 1890s, one only needed to put out a report of young girls in a Chinese den to spark further interest. To the rest of the country, Auckland must now have seemed to be seething with pockets of immorality.
"IMMORALITY IN AUCKLAND
YOUNG GIRLS RESCUED FROM CHINESE DENS.
At the instance of the authorities of the Door of Hope, a visit was paid to certain Chinese tenements in a lane off Wakefield-street by Mr. George Goldie (Sanitary Inspector for the City Council), and Dr. King (Health Officer for the city), accompanied by Sister Francis, of the Door of Hope. Two young girls about 19 were found in one of the houses, but one managed to get away from the rescue party. The other said she had been brought to the house the previous evening while under the influence of drink, and did not know where she was till morning. She said her mother lived in Newton, but she preferred going to the Door of Hope. It is intended to get the other girl into the Home also, if possible. Several girls, it is said, frequent tumbledown and extremely filthy houses occupied by Chinamen in the vicinity of Wakefield-street.”
(Evening Post, 28 November 1896)

Another gambling raid on Wakefield Street.

“On Sunday night the Auckland police authorities made a raid on a Chinese gambling house in Wakefield Street, and arrested the occupier (Chee Fong) and 25 other Chinamen. It appears (says the Herald) that complaints have been made by the European neighbors of the proceedings going on till three and four o'clock in the morning, and also by Chinamen who alleged that they had lost money there. A warrant was accordingly taken out under the Gaming and Lotteries Act, and it was decided to execute it last night, as the Chinamen come in from their vegetable gardens in the suburbs to have a little amusement after their own fashion. The expedition was well managed, and there was no leakage. Orders were given for a number of police to fall in at the Barracks, after the night relief had come in, and they only received their instructions and a knowledge of their destination when ready to march. On reaching Wakefield Street the force marched across the street to Chee Fong's well-known establishment. Sergeant Lyons and a detachment went to the rear of the premises to cut off the escape of the Chinese in that direction, while Sergt. Gamble led the way in through the front entrance (which was found open) followed by Chief Detective Grace and his men, the police forming the support. The Chinese were completely surprised, and a stampede ensued. Some made for the back exit, only to fall into the hands of Sergt. Lyons and his men, while others got under tables, beds, and down cellars. Only one man made any resistance, but there is little doubt they would have resisted but for the police being nearly man for man. Chief-Detective Grace, about half an hour after the force got in, was searching in a likely spot, when he came across a Chinkie, his pigtail protruding, who had been lying quietly coiled up all the time under a bed, and hauled him out. The Chinaman strongly objected to the bracelets being put on, but on understanding the situation more fully he subsided. Another got down a cellar, where he was pursued by Constable Charles Brien, who got his uniform partly damaged in the scrimmage. The Chinese were in two rooms, and apparently at two tables, playing fan-tan. A quantity of Chinese cash, counters, tokens, dice, money, etc., were seized. In a short time all the Chinese were handcuffed in pairs, and were marched, under escort, along Abercrombie Street and Lorne Street to the lock-up. The party were followed by a large crowd. The scene at the lock-up baffles description. The guard-room and corridor were filled with police and handcuffed Chinamen. The fun did not fairly begin till Constable Clark (lock-up keeper) came to fill up the charge-sheet with the names of the prisoners. The services of Mr Thomas Ah Quoi were invoked as interpreter, and but for his aid the police would have been wrestling with the names of the accused till now. The prisoners on being searched had in all nearly £4O upon them, in gold, notes, and silver."
(Poverty Bay Herald, 23 December 1896)

The raids went on, and on.
“At the Police Court to-day the adjourned cases against 25 Chinamen for either being concerned or found in a house in Wakefield Street kept and used as a common gaminghouse were called on. The Crown Prosecutor said that owing to the holidays he had been unable to prepare the cases, and he asked, therefore, that a remand be granted until Monday, 1st February; There were seven Chinamen among defendants who lived at a distance, and it would be hard to ask them to wait until the trial, and he, therefore, asked that the names of these seven be eliminated from the charge-sheet and discharged. Mr. Northcroft then discharged the following :— Sara Woh, Wellington ; Ah Chong, storekeeper, Taranaki; Charley Wing, steward, Wairoa ; Ah Law, cook, Gisborne ; Ching Sup,. gardener, Wanganui; M. Lee, shopman, Wellington ; Kee Jang, shop assistant, Dunedin. The other defendants were remanded until 1st February, the bail being enlarged. Mr. Cotter appeared on behalf of the defendants.
(Evening Post, 7 January 1897)
“Last night the police raided a Chinese gambling den in Wakefield street. In three small rooms they found 60 Chinamen playing dominoes, fan tan and smoking opium, and arrested 22 fan tan players, who were handcuffed in pain and taken to the Police Court. A number of other Chinamen came down to bail out ten of the accused, bat they refused to go unless all were bailed. Two intended leaving for China tonight with a large sum of money. The prisoners are chiefly suburban gardeners who knock down their cheques and hare to return to work again in a week or two."
(Hawera & Normanby Star, 31 July 1899)

"Last evening a party of deteotives and constables made a raid upon a Chinese establishment in Wakefield Street, under observation by the police authorities for some months past. There they found play in full swing and captured a fan-tan paraphernalia. The Chinese tried to escape in every direction, and one or two fought desperately to get away. Twelve men were arrested and taken to the police station and subsequently bailed out."
(Bay Of Plenty Times, 23 April 1900)

“The police raided a Chinese gambling den in Wakefield street last night. A game of fan-tan was in full swing. The Chinamen made a rush for the doors, but were met at every exit by the police. The banker and his clerk were discovered under the gaming table. Thirty-one arrests were made. The Chinamen were handcuffed in pairs, and marched to the lookup, Money was discovered on the men ranging from £5 to £50. At the Police Court, the keeper of the Chinese gambling house was fined £25, and his two assistants £3 each; the others £2 and £1 each. "
(Hawera & Normanby Star, 3 February 1902)

By the Edwardian period, the Observer had taken another editorial tack. In contrast to its style of the 1890s, now it cast light on the hypocrisy of colonial gaming legislation, where totalisator gambling was legal, but fan-tan gambling wasn’t.

“Verily, we are a hypocritical people. Last Monday's paper contained the news that speculation was brisk at the Takapuna Races, and that during Saturday the sum of £10,338 was passed through the totalisators, making the total of £29,335 for the three days, as against £23,914 for the corresponding meeting last year. Mark the nice distinction that is made between totalisator speculation and gambling. Totalisator speculation is within the law —the law shares the profits -- it is not gambling, but speculation. On the other hand, in the same issue of the newspaper, is a sensational account of a raid made by a detachment of police upon the residence of a Chinaman in Wakefield Street and the capture of upwards of thirty Chows for the heinous offence of playing their national game of fan tan for small stakes.

“Of course, the people who planked the £30,000 on the totalisator at Takapuna were not gambling. Neither were the horde of bookmakers who had paid the license fees and who carried on their business of betting under the approving eye of the law. Therefore, it would have been an outrage of the public conscience to have raided and arrested them, and marched them to prison manacled to each other. But with these Chinamen it was different. Public gambling on horse races is right and proper, and is entitled to the protection of our highly virtuous Government, but private gambling in the seclusion of a dwelling-house at such an infamous game as fan tan, is monstrous, and must be suppressed.

“It may be said for the Chinamen that the occasion was their New Year festival, that their laws and religion do not esteem playing fan-tan for stakes a sin, and that they were not corrupting the morals of young and innocent persons. But that is beside the question. Gambling is a crime in the eyes of the country, and a scapegoat being necessary to illustrate our loathing of gambling, let us raid the Chinamen, and fine and imprison them. It is an offering that is sure to satisfy the public conscience. But, at the same time, is it not a satire upon our hypocritical self-righteousness that this thing was done just when the officers of the Takapuna Jockey Club were congratulating themselves on record business on their totalisators ?

“True, these Chinamen are foreigners. But if we are so anxious to suppress gambling, why should there be one law for the Chinaman and another for the European. If the police had continued their highly-moral crusade on Sunday night, and had raided the several clubs in Auckland, would they have discovered no gambling— would they have found no stakes being played for with cards higher than the small amounts that these Chinamen gamble for at fantan? The police themselves can answer that question. However, the public conscience has been vindicated. Thirty Chinamen have been fined for gambling at fan-tan.”
(Observer, 8 February 1902)

Slum clearance over the next two decades would have eliminated much of Wakefield Street’s old low reputation. Today, it is all commercial, with clean and modern lines to most of the buildings. The old Wakefield Street, apart from the Fitzroy Hotel, has vanished.



Image: from Wakefield Street, looking over the Mayoral Drive to Queen Street.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

The Prow

I received a heads-up email today from a librarian about The Prow, a website devoted to historical articles and stories from the Nelson, Marlborough and Tasman District of the upper South Island. Another for the heritage links list.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Aspiration on Upper Lorne Street

Camera in hand, today I took some more photos of my city.

Meet "Aspiration", by sculptor Roderick Burgess. I used to work in this vicinity, from the mid 1980s to early 1990s. Passed by this statue quite a bit, and only now stopped (against the stream of students and graduates coming down the steps from Mayoral Drive into Lorne Street) to look upward.


Yes, that is a beer bottle on his finger. Whoever clambered up there to do it, no doubt the worse for insobriety at the time, had more guts than brains.


Still, litter aside, "Aspiration" is a beautiful piece of art.



According to the leaf-framed plaque, this was donated to the city by Parisian Neckwear Co Ltd, which was once based on Upper Lorne Street. Tiemakers to the city. These days, they're at Poynton Terrace in Newton, according to their webpage.

Thanks to the staff at the Auckland Research Centre, I was able to find out that the business was started by C. H. Abdallah who arrived in Auckland (right now, I still don't know when), went on a trip to the United States, and came back to Auckland impressed by that country's tie industry. "He learned all he could," according to an anniversary promotion in the Auckland Star for the firm's golden anniversary in 1969, "and quickly became an expert in ties and their making. On his return to Auckland he commenced a one-man business with the aid of his daughter ... The name 'Parisian' was chosen to overcome the initial distrust of the quality of made-in-New-Zealand products." (It was also a term used by upmarket stores like Kirkcaldie & Stains c.1913) The business started in the Brunswick Building in 1919, then moved to 74 Lorne Street, with a staff of 24, in 1922. That was just across Memorial Drive from the site of the statue, today just empty space due to the construction of the ring road. The company survived, of course, and today makes ties for schools, military use, masonic orders, corporate dress with logos, even "KZ-7" ties back in the late 1980s for the America's Cup.

"Aspiration" is a great way for this Auckland business to leave their mark on the cityscape.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Gas-lit Saturday nights in old Auckland town

Tattoo of Horses’ Hoofs On Roadways of Town

Happy Saturday Nights in “Gas-Lit Fairyland”

By J.T. GRAINGER
(Aged “over 65”)

To me as a boy in the closing years of the 19th century, Queen Street and Karangahape Road seemed gas-lit fairylands on Saturday nights. Horse-drawn trams, cabs, buses, carts and buggies thronged the roadways, the horses’ hoofs beating a clip-clop tattoo on the macadam.

It is strange, in this city of electric trams, motor-cars and trucks, to think back when the city's locomotion was provided by the horse. One saw some magnificent animals toiling in the streets, and there was something vital in the way they stepped out under heavy loads which is missing in the mechanically-propelled vehicle of today.

The shop windows of those days were, somehow, more enchanting than those of today; Saturday night in Auckland was then truly something to look forward to and hoard one's pennies for. A threepenny-piece could buy, from a larger assortment of sweets than is offered today, at least as much as one shilling and threepence will buy now. Even the grocer gave a generous bag of boiled lollies free when the weekly bill was paid.

Plenty to Interest All

There was plenty to interest everyone on those gas-lit Saturday nights when strolling down the city. One could pick up bargains in the city market, which stood somewhere at the back of the present Civic Theatre, and there was much genial banter among the buyers and sellers. No chain stores existed, but there was a Goodson’s Arcade about opposite where the Strand Arcade stands, and this store sold the miscellaneous type of merchandise now so popular.

What would the modern man think after paying 18 guineas for a suit if he could see the window of Dalton the tailor in Queen Street on those days, where suits were made to measure for 50s, plus an extra pair of trousers? Somehow there seemed to be a closer alignment of wages with prices in those times. It was considered that a just rent for any family should be one day’s wages of the breadwinner. Wages were modest, about 8s a day, but so were prices of goods. People did not seem to be cursed with the money itch, neither was so much spent in amusement in proportion to earnings as is the case today.

Vaudeville Popular

Talking of amusements brings to mind the popularity of vaudeville in those days, and many elderly Aucklanders will recall the hilarious shows of Pope and Sayles with their Nigger Minstrels at the City Hall at the corner of Victoria and Queen Streets.

Auckland then was very much smaller, but in real living it seems to some of us oldsters it was greater than today. One enjoyed the simpler things – picnics on the beaches, a ride in a hansom cab behind a spanking horse, climbing Mt Eden on moonlight nights, swaying on the old suspension bridge which spanned Grafton Gully. Many of us took an interest in the volunteers, and I can recall the weekly training in the old drill hall, and the church parades in scarlet tunics and blue, red-banded trousers.

And one more recollection – more people filled the churches on Sundays than is the case today. Churchgoing was a regular routine in most families. Preaching, also, seemed more robust and forceful compared with the present anaemic efforts.

Auckland has advanced immeasurably in population, in commerce and in prosperity since those horse-and-buggy days but it has not the atmosphere of general contentment with life as it is that was so characteristic of those late 19th century times. It may be that advancing age deflects the mental vision, but to me it seems we are too restless, too unsure of ourselves, to achieve that peace of mind which makes for real happiness.

Originally published in New Zealand Herald, c. 1951. From the Otahuhu Historical Society Scrapbooks.

A Great Horse Trainer In Auckland


(from advertisement, last page, Auckland Star, 11 November 1897)

By our advertising columns it will be seen that Professor Norton B. Smith, described as the greatest horse trainer since the days of Rarey, is announced to open his exhibition at the Agricultural Hall on Saturday. The Professor comes here with a world’s verdict, and the English, African, Tasmanian and Australian press are loud in his praise.

For the info of our readers we may say that Professor Smith offers to handle, educate and subdue the wildest, most vicious or nervous horse, young colt, or man-eating stallion that can be propuced by his new scientific and humane system, which is founded as an antidote to the old system of cruelty and torture to which our horses were and are now subjected by so called horse trainers.

The professor wins the confidence of the animal, and this obtained, he proceeds to educate his pupil. He sternly discountenances beating of any kind or the use of the gag or twitch. He is the inventor of a new training bridle and patent bit with other special apparatus which he uses in conjunction with his system.

When we say that all this is done free of charge it is obvious that the Equine Academy will be well stocked with pupils. Anyone having a horse that possesses vice of any kind can not do better than communicate with Mr Nat Behreus, the professor’s co-partner and manager, at the Agricultural Hall, who will arrange for its handling.

In a horse country like ours men of Professor Smith’s type should be welcome.

(from Auckland Star, 17 November 1897, page 4)

FUN! EXCITEMENT! INSTRUCTION!
PROF. B. SMITH
EMPEROR OF ALL HORSE
EDUCATORS
THE GREATEST HORSE TRAINER
SINCE THE DAYS OF RAREY.

Last evening Professor SMITH had an exceedingly strong programme to deal with. The horses were the type to bring out the true talent of this Master of Equine Education. “When Greek meets Greek’ is the old saying, and when a Warrigal, old in the ways of vice, meets his deserts by having to face the tribunal of equine wrongdoers, in the shape of Prof. Smith, old in the ways of handling these criminals of the Horse Race, the struggle is a keen one. At first comes surprise, then defiance, all the tricks learnt by years of bad handling are brought to bear – kick, plunge, rear, buck, strike and bite – these are the usual means tried by the pupil. But Science steps in, and this with skill, brings about the survival of the fittest. After a short but decisive struggle Science wins, and then occur some of the most Sensational Acts of this Sensational Exhibition. All know the aversion of the horse to fire, and yet this wonderful Horse Educator makes his pupils stand unconcernedly by whilst fire-crackers are exploded beneath them, steam whistles scream above, steam surrounds them, and all this to the accompaniment of brass bands, drums, bells, and all those items that horses do most hate.

TO SEE is the only way to credit the marvels wrought. So we say unreservedly go, see, and come away astonished and instructed.

(from Auckland Star, 17 November 1897, page 4)

HORSE TAMING AND TRAINING

Professor Norton B Smith gave another exhibition of horse training and taming at the Agricultural Hall last night and provided one of the most interesting and amusing entertainments to which Aucklanders have been treated. Some valuable animals were entrusted to the Professor by their owners, showing their confidence in his system, and the results achieved showed that the confidence so reported had not been misplaced.

The Professor and his assistants showed truly marvellous control over the most vicious of the animals, and after brief preliminary work exposed each of them to the beating of drums and banging of tin cans, enveloped them in steam, blew a steam whistle over their heads, and drove them round the ring with an expertness and celerity that was astonishing, and that well deserved the frequent applause of the audience. There were exciting incidents, as might be expected. One was when a smart looking young horse immediately after being introduced bounded over the front of the buggy, landed in the vehicle and thence leaped over the back of the vehicle. He was smartly returned to the ring, and after about ten minutes careful handling, instead of being positively dangerous to go near, appeared to become under the complete control of the Professor. The last two nights of these exhibitions are announced to-night and on Friday. There will be no exhibition to-morrow (Thursday) night.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

The first X-rays in Auckland - 1897


Image from Wikipedia.

Today, X-rays are part and parcel of medical equipment, and an expected part of the diagnostic procedure for many things that ail us. I remember my mother (who lived in California during the late 1940s-early 1950s) saying that x-ray machines could even be seen in shoe shops there at that time (of course, this probably didn't do all that much good for ensuing bone and other forms of cancer, but ...) X-rays for most of the 20th century have been accepted. Not so when they first came to New Zealand, in the late 1890s.

It appears that the Auckland Hospital authorities do not intend, at any rate at present, to obtain the necessary apparatus for utilising the famous Röntgen rays for medical or surgical purposes. The matter was considered, but it was not thought wise to spend something like £40 in this way until the methods of utilising the discovery for the treatment of accidents and disease were considerably improved. It is only about twelve months ago since the world was startled by the discovery, and as the whole matter is still in an experimental stage the Hospital people have apparently decided to wait. Careful experiments have been made at the Sydney University, and it is stated that the Sydney Hospital authorities have countermanded an order which they had sent Home for the apparatus. Some experiments have been made at the Auckland Hospital, and though these proved most interesting, they are not altogether satisfactory from a medical point of view, and it seems clear that there are few cases indeed in which the Röntgen rays would prove of much practical use. Of course the possibilities of the discovery from a medical point of view are very great, but the Hospital authorities think they can well afford to await further developments.
19 January, 1897, NZ Herald, p. 5, col 2

Good on the medical authorities for being cautious, really. This was something dramatically new, they couldn't take risks. Then again, it took a fair while for their predecessors to get used to the idea of germ-free medicine, so I've heard said ...

Anyway, what would we have done without our entrepreneurs, eh? Where medical science hesitated over the innovation, in comes the businessman-cum-performer. They knew full well, after selling tickets for stuff like laughing gas performances, that the Victorian-era public would be dead keen to see another miracle of science. In this case, however, Mackie specifically targeted the general practitioners.
The Röntgen X Rays apparatus is now being shown by Mr. C. E. Mackie in a shop directly opposite Mr. J Tonson Garlick’s furnishing warehouse in Queen-street, large attendances presenting themselves each evening to witness the exhibition by this wonderful result of scientific research. On Tuesday evening a private test was given before a large attendance of the local medical fraternity, one and all of whom expressed themselves surprised and delighted at the marvellous results arrived at. A splendid photograph of the bones of the hand of Dr. T. Hope Lewis, for which six minutes exposure was allowed, the negative being decidedly clearer than a similar portrait sent forward with the exhibition, in which the exposure was stated to be considerably over double the length of time.
21 January 1897, NZ Herald, p. 5, col. 3

By the description, Charles Edward Mackie's shop sounds like it was around about where the Metro conplex is today. That place where they thought to run a Planet Hollywood, but that faded, leaving the space-art decorations behind, and a facade of an old building. Mackie (1865-1937) was a photo-engraver by trade. He's buried in Hillsborough Cemetery. He deserves a bit more notice than he's had up to now, I'd say -- seeing as he was also one of the early importers of the "cinematographe".
Mr. C. E. Mackie, of Queen-street, has received one of the latest and most improved of those wonderful electrical machines, the cinematographe, which will be erected and in working order this evening, when it will be shown at his rooms in conjunction with the X-rays ….During the past week, the Röntgen X-rays shown by Mr. Mackie have been largely used by the medical fraternity with excellent results, several maimed and broken limbs, the injuries to which could not be otherwise located, having been photographed.
9 February 1897, NZ Herald, p. 5, col. 3

A most interesting operation was performed yesterday by the aid of the Röntgen rays. A Mrs. Tait was suffering from the effects of a needle embedded in the sole of the foot, and a photograph of it was taken for surgical use, by Mr. Mackie. The photograph showed the needle quite plainly, but the difficulty lay in ascertaining its precise position, whether right or left of the centre line of the foot. The attending surgeon then, by means of wire, divided the foot off into squares, but this was not successful. A third trial, however, was. This result was obtained by making a slight incision along the sole of the foot, and placing therein a piece of silver wire. A photograph was then taken from above the limb, and the head of the needle, which was in a vertical position, was seen as a small black speck, and located. Its removal was after that an easy surgical matter.
4 May 1897, NZ Herald, p. 5, col. 2

Even with successes like this, radiology was still only slowly accepted up until the First World War when its usefulness was finally universally recognised, according to the website for the Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Radiologists.

Friday, May 1, 2009

The Fat Lady site

I stumbled across it while doing the earlier post on the school houses and Governors-general. Quite interesting collection of YouTube videos, some interesting to NZ history buffs like myself.

The Overlander passing through Te Awamutu, drawn by a steam engine.

Young polar bears in Auckland Zoo. Before things turned green and manic.

The good ol' Good Night Kiwi.

A clip from the 1985 Telethon.

And, as linked before, the Auckland Harbour Bridge opening.

School houses

In Freyberg Square in Auckland's central city, there's a statue to honour the man after whom the square is named: Lieutenant-General Sir Bernard Cyril Freyberg, 1st Baron Freyberg, VC.

Passing by his statue, I'm reminded of Avondale Intermediate. Yes, I know that's an odd association, but the school, which I attended back in the mid 1970s, had school houses, groups into which the pupils were placed, and each house had a different coloured flag and ribbon. The houses were named after former Governors-general. The yellow house was Freyberg (I'm not sure Sir Bernard would have been all too happy about that, had he known.)

The statue is quite good, I think. Reminiscent of a familiar pose, as seen below.



















Next on the list was Newall, a blue house, named after Marshal of the Royal Air Force Cyril Louis Norton Newall, 1st Baron Newall.

The red house was Cobham, named after Charles John Lytton, 10th Viscount Cobham, who just happened to be on deck in the G-G post when the Auckland Harbour Bridge was opened, 50 years ago this month. A short film of the opening can be seen here.

As for the green house (which was where I was placed), that was Jellicoe, after John Rushworth Jellicoe, 1st Earl Jellicoe, commander of the Grand Fleet at the Battle of Jutland.

The business of houses struck me at the time of something very much like British public school stuff -- and the more recent Harry Potter craze, with the setting in a school of wizards divided up into competing houses, also reminds me of the days at Avondale Intermediate. No dragons or wizards, though -- just speeches reminding us just who the gentlemen were who were namesakes of school houses in a suburb of Auckland.

Campbell Island

Image from Wikipedia.

I was going through my dormant collection of first day covers and "cinderellas" today, part of the period in my life from 1969 until c.1997 when I spent (possibly misspent) my early years being a stamp collector, or philatelic nut. (Now, I'm just the history variety). Mainly, I was looking for examples of old postmarks to put toward a publication I'm putting together right now. During the course of the nostalgia trip and trip down memory lane, visions of ecstatic finds among stamp dealers' cabinets over the many years, I found a cover I'd bought years and years ago which had originated from Campbell Island, one of New Zealand's sub-Antarctic territories.


Some of the history of the island is provided at the Wiki link above. I think I picked up the cover, which was posted in 1971, is because (a) the cartoon stamp in the middle of the envelope is quite cool (a bearded Kiwi in charge of his penguin and seal team of meteorologists), and (b) because there is just 3d and 1d stamps, totalling 4d, the old cost of domestic postage in NZ.

Trouble with that is -- we went decimal in 1967. It's a wonder the envelope made it back to the mainland. Probably via some very understanding postal workers who reckoned, why waste old stamps when postage was (then) still only 4 cents, anyway.

Growing up, I remember as a kiddy that back then (1960s to very early 1970s) our postage was 4 cents, a bottle of milk (1 pint) was 4 cents, and newspapers and bread were around the same. Now, domestic standard postage starts at 50 cents, a litre of milk is around $2, bread around $2.50 if you're lucky to find a sale, and a newspaper is around $1.50 or more.

Good on those folks at Campbell Island with their thruppeny and penny stamps, I say ...