Joseph Gordon Coates memorial, Brynderwyn

In the process of being dropped off at the Swinging Cow Cafe at Brynderwyn on Monday, I spotted this memorial. Carefully checking the carpark that I wasn't about to step out into oncoming traffic coming in (the turn-off to Dargaville from State Highway 1 can be a rather dangerous spot if you're day dreaming), I headed over to the above.

It certainly tells you exactly where you are in the scheme of things.

"18 miles west of this corner at Matakohe, Joseph Gordon Coates was born and had his home, and there in the churchyard he lies at rest."

"To the memory of the Rt Hon Joseph Gordon Coates PC, MC and Bar, MP (1878-1943), Prime Minister of New Zealand 1925-28. Member of Parliament for this district from 1911 until his death. Farmer, soldier, statesman. He was indeed a Man.

"Takoto e pa i runga i au mahi nunui mo te Pakeha me te Maori." ("Rest thou, O father, upon the great work you have performed for Pakeha and Maori alike.")

 But, this was the truly intriguing part:

"The Channel Island granite of this memorial is from piers of the old Waterloo Bridge, London."

Part of London's Waterloo Bridge ended up at Brynderwyn, near a truck and coach stop? Well, yes, and according to this article from Wikipedia, it wasn't the only bit that made it all the way to these shores, on the other side of the world:

"The first bridge on the site was designed in 1809-10 by John Rennie for the Strand Bridge Company and opened in 1817 as a toll bridge. The granite bridge had nine arches, each of 120 feet (36.6 m) span, separated by double Grecian-Doric stone columns and was 2,456 feet (748.6 m) long, including approaches ... From 1884 serious problems were found in Rennie's bridge piers, after scour from the increased river flow after Old London Bridge was demolished damaged their foundations. By the 1920s the problems had increased, with settlement at pier five necessitating closure of the whole bridge while some heavy superstructure was removed and temporary reinforcements put in place ...

"The new crossing was partially opened in 1942 and completed in 1945 ...Granite stones from the original bridge were subsequently "presented to various parts of the British world to further historic links in the British Commonwealth of Nations". Two of these stones are in Canberra, the capital city of Australia, sited between the parallel spans of the Commonwealth Avenue Bridge, one of two major crossings of Lake Burley Griffin in the heart of the city. Stones from the bridge were used to build a monument in Wellington, New Zealand, to Paddy the Wanderer, a dog that roamed the wharves from 1928 to 1939 and was befriended by seamen, watersiders, Harbour Board workers and taxi drivers. The monument includes a bronze likeness of Paddy and drinking bowls for dogs."

And, added to that list -- a memorial breezed past by traffic in a rush from A to B every day.

According to Michael Bassett in his book Coates of Kaipara (1995, pp. 280-281), a so-called "group of anonymous well-wishers" decided to erect the memorial at the Dargaville turn-off in 1944, at the point where Coates, whenever driving north, said to whoever was with him at the time, "Well, I'm home again." The anonymous well-wishers are no longer so anonymous: they were Sir Ernest Davis, Oliver Nicholson and Noel Cole.

They did indeed leave behind a worthy memorial to the man.

Love will find a way

Another not-really-heritage post. Spotted today on the pavers outside the Pt Chevalier Community Library -- no other scripting in the vicinity, just this. Wonderfully random, outside of whatever context this may have.

Click to enlarge.

Kakaraea - the remains of the Gittos Cathedral at Tanoa

OTAMATEA PROGRESS

The native members of the Wesleyan connection, with the assistance of their European friends, have built a beautiful church, near the Tanoa point, and close to the settlement of the chief, Adam Clark. The church is built in the Gothic style of architecture. The services are conducted by the Rev. Mr. Gittos, who has been resident some eighteen years amongst the natives, and has acquired the native tongue with that degree of proficiency so necessary to one in his position. It is astonishing with what deference, nay, affection, the natives address him. His power over them appears almost unlimited.

The natives have a considerable amount of cultivation, taken as a whole, but it does not average more than a quarter of an acre per adult. The land is a rich flat, of limestone formation, which grows heavy crops of maize, &c. The river is navigable for large vessels quite up to the settlement.

Mr. Gittos holds English services at stated intervals, when settlers from the adjacent districts, viz., Paparoa, Maungaturoto, Kaiwaka, Hakaru, &c, are present in considerable numbers. … The residence of Mr. Gittos is opposite the church, and in a snug nook by the river-side, most conveniently situated, and commanding a fine view. There is a capital orchard, and the flower garden is most tastefully laid out. There are several very choice shrubs and flowers amongst the numerous sorts, which flourish beyond expectation. To the left, across the river, on the side of a high cliff, is Mr. Masefield's hotel, where the steamer stops, and discharges her freight on the pier erected there. Lower down the river, to the right, is Mr. McMurdo's late residence, now occupied by Mr. Peace, who has a small factory for preserving fish in tins, principally mullet. The district is thriving steadily, and must certainly be of great importance.

Southern Cross, 20 May 1875

At Tanoa, beside the Otamatea River, is Kakaraea, a place of great beauty. I was very, very privileged and fortunate to be taken there last Saturday by my good friend Liz from the Mad Bush Farm. You'll see her earlier post on this place here.

From the outside, you'd reckon the old church has seen better days. It was once much grander, but time has seen it altered to a more prosaic form.

But, while this cathedral no longer has its gracious butresses, no glorious stained glass windows illuminating and illustrating the faith of parishioners, it has something much better: it has a deep and far reaching essense of soul, a sense of place that is indescribable, yet captures mind and heart.

And who needs stained glass artifice here, when  the beauty of nature just beyond the walls offers a vaster view than any that could be conceived by man?

Update, 1 May 2011: Kakaraea Church has been registered as Category II by NZHPT.

Shell service station, Pitt Street

Early morning, about 7.30 am last Saturday, I was on my way from Karangahape Road down to the InterCity bus terminal on Hobson Street. Wheelie case rattling along behind me, I spotted the above.

This used to be a service station. A Shell one, to be precise. 16-24 Pitt Street, a good place to duck in and buy a soft drink on my way from appointments further up the street as I head down to the Queen Street valley.

It did look like this:

View Larger Map

But now, it looks like this:

A workman  there, shifting orange barriers around so we pedestrians could make our way along the footpath, told me it was destined to become another liquor store. (Sigh) Sorry to sound liked a wowser, but I really do thin we have enough liquor stores around, ta very much. Still ... a drive-in service station like this, at a busy intersection, probably had its days numbered anyway.

The present building probably dates from the 1960s/1970s. Before thatr, a Victorian/Edwardian block of shops was here, best seen at the Auckland City Library's Heritage Images Online pages, reference 4-2000. Wises Directories tell us a grocer and a Chinese laundry were on the site in 1905. By 1930, the block of four shops included a service station, J S Dickson & Sons, at the same corner as this one, so about 80 years or so of association with petrol and motor vehicles has come to an end.

Trees, history and politics

 Photo: Neville Exler collection, Avondale-Waterview Historical Society

Once upon a time, there was one last remaining market garden on Avondale's Rosebank Peninsula. Just one -- known to all here as the Connell Property. It had outlasted the others, swept away with rating changes which changed the landscape of vegetables and orchards to industry at one end, and residential at the other. The land was purchased a piece at a time from 1902 to the 1920s by Dan Connell senior, and sold all at once by the remaining family members to developers for $12.5 million, who in turn left their mark on the landscape with the future meaninglessness that is Jomac Place.

The developers came in, and removed the former hedges of pines which had screened much of the large property from roadside view -- and revealed two trees, an oak and a pohutukawa, which have been catalysts for battle between locals, the Tree Council, Auckland City Council, Citizens & Ratepayers councillors, City Vision councillors, the Green Party and the developers for many months now.

You'll see a picture of the trees here.

While my historical society, Avondale-Waterview, endorse the stand by those who'd like to see the trees preserved (and hopefully with at least a bit of greenspace left, if possible, and my own opinion is that they are a remnant of the market garden period of Avondale's history (a working market garden would have been better, but in this day and age, you take what you can get) -- I did question the ages bandied about by both the supporters, and the Council. That "80 to 100 years old" thing for the trees.

The Auckland Regional Council have aerials on their site from 1940, c.1959, 2001 and 2008. This is from 1940 -- and the trees, if there, aren't really substantially evident.

The site in 2008. They're there now.

I reckon the trees are around 75 years old, at best. Maybe 75-80 years old. Not touching the century, though. That age seems to be backed up by former Rosebank residents recalling Dan Connell junior as the one who planted an acorn which became the oak. You really can't judge the age of a tree by the sale date on a property title.

The fuss about the trees did come as a bit of a surprise to me. Completely out of the blue (well, I don't drive, so I don't drive past the development, and see suddenly bare ground with two trees remaining ...). I was approached by the Green Party's David Clendon (I took the train to Kingsland one day, walked to the Green Party offices to meet him after he said he wanted info on the Connells), then the Tree Council's Sigrid Shayer. All around me, at meetings of the Avondale Community Board, came the expressions of "Oh, look! We can see the trees now, let's save them!" Gives rather renewed meaning to the old saying, "Out of sight, out of mind."

Oh well. The trees are "in sight" now, highly visible, on political radar all over the place. Maybe the developer will say "Yes, I'll leave them both alone", or say no. Maybe there'll be an expensive Environment Court tussle over them. Very expensive for the losing side.

The politics of tree preservation, in this case, is not over yet.

End of the hoofbeats? AJC last day, 3 July 2010

We have a racecourse here in Avondale. It started in 1890, was enlarged in the early 20th century, and today was the stage for the last meeting of the Avondale Jockey Club, for at least a year. Hopefully. There's no real telling, at this stage, what will happen, due to huge debts, and the nature of gambling in this country.

I doubt that anyone local is terribly surprised to have learned of the venerable institution's woes. It's had tough times, really, since the night racing fiasco late last century. We've watched, and waited, witnessing the decline. Expecting a day like today to come.

So, on the last day of Avondale racing for this year, I wandered on down to say goodbye to a place that is a big part of my love for my home suburb.

The bloke who opens the gate to let the horses onto the track, studying the form.

I'm sure this used to be a tote. Now, it's simply a marker for executive carparks.

The stables used to be where my mum and I would stand, by the fence, watching the horses.

To me as a kiddy in the late 1960 and early 1970s, Avondale racecourse seemed to be huge, vibrant, and packed with people. I was nearly lost one time, in a sea of adult legs. Those days, though. are gone, and not just because I'm one of those adults now.

These used to be totes as well, I'm sure. There used to be so many people attending meetings here, they needed all the totes going that they could possibly fit in. These have been shut up for years.

It was a good day's racing, withn the weather more akin to early spring than the middle of winter. A nice day to say goodbye.

The last race of all.

The starting gates not put away just yet, as we punters, we farewellers of a long-standing part of Avondale's history, wend our way home.

Sunset at the racecourse. We're all crossing fingers, but -- the future will tell whether we're ever here again.

Update 19 December 2010: Just spotted this messageboard which linked to the post -- Racechat.