Publicly accessible
URL: http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/collections.html
Copyright 2009, by Victoria University of Wellington
All unambiguous end-of-line hyphens have been removed and the trailing part of a word has been joined to the preceding line, except in the case of those words that break over a page. Every effort has been made to preserve the Māori macron using unicode.
Some keywords in the header are a local Electronic Text Center scheme to aid in establishing analytical groupings.
Volume 2 No. 5
1993
ISSN 0111-8773
Cover: Boys and Marist Brothers at St Mary's Orphanage, Stoke, 1893.
Tyree Studio Collection, Nelson Provincial Museum
Members of both the Nelson and Marlborough Historical Societies will be pleased to see their Journal back in 1993, after an absence of two years. During that time the 150th Anniversary of Nelson's European settlement was marked by the publication of Nelson Notables by Max Lash. This was a major task, and thanks are due to Max and the editorial committee of Mike Johnston, Dawn Smith, Barney Brewster and Steve Bagley. Sales to date have almost recovered the printing costs, so it should be a financial success as well. One of the most important things our Societies can do is help to preserve historical detail in this area. The Journal plays a leading role in achieving this. In the 1993 issue we again have an excellent spread of articles covering a wide range of activities in the community many years ago. We are all indebted to those members with sufficient interest and dedication to research a subject to the stage where it can be published. As Editor of the Journal, Dawn Smith has again put in a lot of time fitting the contributions together into a valuable historical record. Our Societies are fortunate to have someone with her skill and interest to undertake this work. We will need a similar number of contributions for the Journal next year, so please keep up the good work.
Published by
Nelson Historical Society Incorporated
P O Box 461 Nelson
Copyright: Permission to reprint any part of the Journal should be obtained from the Committee of the Nelson Historical Society and the source of any such reprint should be acknowledged.
We are grateful to the Nelson Provincial Museum and contributors for making photographs available.
Measurements: 1 mile = 1.6 kilometres; 1 acre = 0.4 hectares; 1 pound = 0.4 kilograms. At the time of conversion. £1 = $2.00.
Printed by Anchor Press, Nelson
If I were asked what were the happiest days of my childhood, I do not think I would have any hesitation in replying, "The days spent at our cottage at Lake Rotoiti". My father had visited the Lake and been enchanted by the peace and tranquility of it. On December 16, 1929 he went into Nelson, after learning that there was to be a sale of sections at the Lake. When the busy Christmas season was over, on December 29, Mother was up at 5.30am to cut sandwiches and pack a picnic lunch. At 7.30am Mr Sid Croucher arrived and took us, accompanied by friends, up to the Lake for our first visit. It was all rather too much for me, with the winding roads and excitement, and all I remember, at 4½ years, was the unpleasantness of car sickness – both ways! However, they had a good look around and managed to find the survey pegs of the new section. My father decided to also buy a second section, so that we would not be built out. One drawback about life at the Alexandra Home was that both my parents could not be away at the one time on holiday, and Mother always took us with her. It seemed to work out very well. She was gregarious and enjoyed catering, entertaining and baking, and always filled her car with friends and children. My father, on the other hand, with the never ceasing demands that the busy public life at the Home entailed, wearied of people and preferred to go alone to the house at the Lake, do the general maintenance and upgrading of the property, and get away for a quiet time by himself.
On September 11, 1930 all was prepared in readiness, with supplies of bread, fruit, fish, tomatoes and groceries, crockery and cutlery packed for an early start next day. My parents were up at around 5am to light the fire for breakfast, and Mr Best's lorry came to take the bulk of the things. For Lloyd and myself, it was our first day back at school after the holidays, and so we were denied the trip. Mother drove her car and kept Best's lorry in sight to Belgrove and, after one or two hold-ups, they arrived at the Lake at 20 minutes to 2 o'clock. Until my father could lay the foundations and erect the frame-work of our cottage, they had the use of Major Elliott's house across on the other side of the road. Beds were made up and things put straight, and then Mother had to return alone on the long drive back to the Home, leaving my father to tackle the big task ahead.
Mother's first ear had been an open tourer Chevrolet and, for some reason, my father never learned to drive, having little patience with anything mechanical. Mother, on the other hand, was enthusiastic to say the least and her second car was upgraded to a shining dark-green 1929 Chevrolet. We were terribly proud of that car, and it would be requested for weddings and special occasions by friends in the district. When everything was packed and ready, our constant friend and companion, Roy the dog, would hop on board and off we would go.
In those days, trains had to be looked out for at the crossings at Brightwater, Spring Grove, Wakefield, Belgrove and Kohatu. The train left Belgrove first thing in the morning, taking freight and passengers, including pupils of Nelson Boys' and Girls' Colleges. At other times there could be a Special train, with goods and seasonal fruit, so it paid the car driver to use caution at the crossings, which were marked with signs warning "Stop – Look Out for the Engine!"
The road to the Lake was a never ending kaleidoscope of interest and beauty. Winding gravel roads, sometimes dusty, sometimes rutted and boggy, at others, icy and slippery. With the discomfort of travel-sickness brushed aside, our interest was taken when the car had to negotiate the high-sided wooden bridges at Brightwater and Wai-iti. Sometimes there were horse-drawn vehicles, cyclists, or another car to wait patiently for
Not far past this bridge, the road curved round to the Motupiko general store and post office, where we would sometimes pull in for petrol from a hand-operated bowser pump. The Motupiko Valley, with its tall poplars and willows, was a glory to behold in the Autumn. In the spring time it was transformed, with lush green pastures and grazing sheep and lambs and the river edged with yellow wattle trees, their heavy fragrance filling the air. As the car sped along we knew where to watch and catch a glimpse in season of the beautiful white flowers of the native clematis, twining over a clump of manuka or high in a native tree. This was about the end of September or beginning of October. In December the parasitic mistletoe, growing in dark-green clumps on the beech trees, burst into fiery beauty and, running across from the car, we held each other up in turn to gather branches to take home to decorate for Christmas.
The first water-courses were after coming off Spooner's Range, in Norriss gully, and where the road turned off into what is now known as Golden Downs. In the Korere Valley the first water-course which warranted some care was clay-banked and rocky and had a nasty rutted-out bed, which could prove tricky if taken too fast. It had been given the name 'Dayman's mistake'. It is not now remembered who the hapless Mr Dayman was, but we had heard that he had taken the water-course too fast, crashing and breaking his wife's neck. Be that as it may, for once we sat quietly, while our Mother negotiated the bumpy ford. A farm house stood on the bank above this water-course and there was a thick entanglement of blackberry vines all along the bank beside the roadside. Mrs Piper, the lady of the house, once gave us a billy full of lovely ripe blackberries, because we had had the courtesy to request permission to pick berries from their 'patch'. It is quite remarkable that any ever survived for jam-making or an apple and blackberry pie, as our hands and faces were blackened with the juice from the sweet berries, as we sat dipping into the billy in the back seat as we drove on.
The Korere Hotel had been a landmark since the old coaching days, with a very old wooden stable and barn standing across the road from the hotel. Over succeeding years a newer hotel with adjoining tearooms was erected, and the service-car from Nelson, on its way to Lake Rotoiti and back, made a stop over, with enough time for passengers to have a nice hot cup of tea and delicious home-made scones and cakes. There was something a little harder across the passage in the bar if so desired. The Lake bus left Nelson on its return journey around 4.30pm and arrived at the Lake at approximately 7.30pm, depending on the condition of the roads. The driver delivered newspapers, mail and parcels to the boxes standing by the roadside along the route.
Once the main road to Murchison had been left at the Korere turn-off, and the oneway wooden bridge crossed, the road passed several farms with sheep and cattle grazing. From there on the road became rougher, with the distinct feeling that we were slowly getting into higher country. Altogether about twelve water-courses had to be forded, depending on the time of the year. This to us was the best part of the journey, and we would wind down the car window and lean right out, trying to touch the swirl of water that cascaded out on either side as the car forded the stream. We knew each water-course well, whether spreading out shallowly, or deep-rutted and treacherous. The worst and most unpredictable was at Top House, in the valley below the old Hotel. In winter, indeed even in summer, one could never anticipate how the water-courses would be. If it had rained they would be in angry mood, or if it had snowed and melted
After the two Chevrolet cars, Mother purchased a more economical Baby Austin. Once we travelled right up as far as Top House, nearly three quarters of the journey, only to find the water-course quite impossible to ford in such a small car. This was very disappointing, as we did not want to have to abandon the plans for our holiday at the Lake and return to Richmond. Mother decided to retrace our road to the Korere turn-off, and try to reach our destination via the Hope Saddle's winding and tortuous bends. To our dismay, when we reached the bottom of the saddle, there were at least six or seven vehicles stranded either side of the gushing Moorhouse Stream, including a big red Newman's bus. What hope would a Baby Austin have if it was too much for the bus to take on? The outlook was not promising, and we were disappointed at the thought of retracing the road all the way home. People were standing about in groups talking, while some were walking across tine wooden foot-bridge to watch the swirling torrent below. One of the bystanders called out with a suggestion. "Why not try and see if, with its small size and weight, the Baby Austin could possibly cross over on the foot-bridge?" The wheel-span was measured and there were six inches to spare, three inches either side if taken Very, Very, slowly and carefully. They decided it was worth giving it a go and Mother, always a very determined lady, was not used to letting a situation beat her. With very slow and careful manoeuvering, and guidance from several of the men, Mother eased the Baby Austin over the foot-bridge, to the triumphant cheers of the watching onlookers. Proud and delighted, we scrambled back into the car and, with a cheeky Beep Beep and waves to all, we resumed our journey once more. It was not considered at the time what the outcome may have been had the foot-bridge given way under the added weight of the car and the pressure on the foundations from the flooded stream. The little car had been named Blossom, because of her cream and green coloured paint-work, and we were very proud that the little midget had out-classed even a big red Newman's bus. We had made it safe and sound and away we went, leaving the stranded passengers still standing about by the Moorhouse Stream.
After passing the railway settlement at Glenhope, with its dark red railway sheds and station and cluster of houses, the road turned off from the main West Coast route at the Kawatiri Junction, where the railway-line ended at a small station. From here our road followed the course of the Buller River for a time. There was a sparse scattering of a few small farms on the river-flat, with the odd roadside cottage on banks above and beside the road, and a one-teacher school at the Howard Junction.
As we travelled along the Buller River Valley, signposts indicated the mining areas where men were trying to be self-supporting and eke out an existence. Times were indeed very hard for the men, many having been made redundant when the railway building work ended. There were communities in the Maggie, Maud and Louis Creeks.
A very long straight stretch of the road passed the old historic Speargrass Station, and we would beg Mother to toot the horn of the car. The unaccustomed noise of the passing vehicle would startle hundreds and hundreds of rabbits of every colour; grey, fawn, black, brown, and cream. Those were the years when the rabbit and hare populations increased so alarmingly, before the big eradication schemes were introduced. The first attempts were with poisoned carrots, which drove the population up to the snow-line on the mountains.
Nearing the Lake from this direction, the first wooden-sided bridge over the Buller River was always a very beautiful place, with the river rushing down over the boulder-strewn bed and the snow-capped peaks of the St Arnaud range making a lovely back-drop.
This was not the usual route we took to reach the Lake, and we mostly travelled via Motupiko and the Korere Valley, passing farming homesteads, Christiansen's Mill and water-course and the Kerr Station at Blue Glen, Kikiwa. One of the first forestry camps was established above the road, in the vicinity of Kerr's, in the 1930's. Crossing another water-course and up a clay-sided rise, we came to a wide grassy plateau, where Tomlinson's farm could be seen, nestled near a stand of native bush. A little further on came Carlsson's timber mill and farm. When my father built the Lake Rotoiti house, much of the timber came from Carlsson's, being handiest to the Lake for transport.
As the miles sped by, the road was gradually climbing, until an altitude of around 2,000 ft.
In the years when we first started going regularly to the Lake, Jesse Baxter and his wife Phyllis and three daughters were the proprietors of Tophouse, where they had spent around twenty years. The main Blenheim-West Coast highway was reached a few miles past Tophouse, with the Blechynden homestead on the right, among the trees. From the area by Blechynden's, the beautiful mountain peaks around the Lake came fully into view. In the distance, on the right, was the bare face of Mt Robert, named by Von Haast for his son, with higher peaks rising behind and beyond to Mt Travers, at the head of the Lake. The St Arnaud, or No Catch 'Em range, as it was called then, ran parallel to the road as we descended gradually to the settlement, a mere cluster of buildings at Rotoiti. A fire had burned through some time previously, leaving a cleared fringe to the bush-line. The stark and blackened grey tree-stumps had an eerie beauty of their own. As we drove by I would gaze at them and, with my childish mind, imagine how difficult the scene would be on a jig-saw puzzle, with no variation in colour to give a clue to trying to assemble the pieces.
Occasionally there was snow, and the high clay banks along either side of the road around Tophouse were transformed, taking on an almost fairy-tale beauty. Icicles hung like crystalline stalactites, shimmering in the light, and the frost made intricate patterns in the frozen soil and covered grass and manuka like a mantle of snow. The red-coated, white-faced cattle stood huddled together in groups for warmth, their hot breath steaming. Their coats were thicker and shaggier than the cattle back on the Waimea Plain, because of the 2,000 ft altitude, and they reminded me of the long-horned Highland cattle seen on Scottish calendars.
At last came the final run down to the settlement, through the last water-course and around the corner to the little Post-office-store, owned by Jesse and Phyllis Baxter after they left Tophouse. The Post office was transferred in 1931 and the name changed from Rotoiti to St Arnaud in 1951. This store was always our first port of call, as the house keys were left there for convenience sake. If the house was let on occasions, the keys were always at the Lake for the tenant to pick up. Although we enjoyed being sent there at any time, it was in the evening, when the bus was due from Nelson with mail and stores, that the little store really came alive. People seemed to miraculously materialize from cottages scattered about in the bush and, by the mellow glow of a kerosine-lamp, yarns were exchanged and we listened to the tall-tales of the fishermen, trampers, holiday-makers and the odd miner, as well as a very few local residents and road-men. Occasionally an enquirer asked a miner "How are things going?" The reply was invariably "Not too good", but at times, when they caught the bus out of the area, or trudged off with all their worldly goods in a sugar-bag pack, folk wondered about the value and mystery of the contents of their swags. I never remember hearing of anyone striking it rich and making a fortune, just a living, which for them was better than being unemployed. As the general economic situation improved throughout the country, and work
Between the store and our cottage, the road passed a really large solitary rock, by the turn-off to the Buller and West Coast road. As children it seemed Huge to us, so we named it our Mt Everest. We never passed without climbing up, sliding down, or jumping off it. Across from the rock, nestled in among the young manuka bushes, was a cottage named Cram 'Em In. Others had a variety of original names; Rookery Nook, St Arnaud, 'Avarest, Long Look Out and Torestin, to name just a few. An Accommodation House used to be near the turn-off from the road down to the Lake and View Road, where our house was situated. This was to become known as Cumming's Cottage. Mr Leathem had moved to Lake Rotoiti with his family in the early 1930's. He had been working on the railway extension from Glenhope to Murchison and then came to Lake Rotoiti to work on the road improvements. Mr Leathem's own house had been brought from Glenhope and was one of the original Accommodation Houses. It was later sold to Mr and Mrs Barker who operated it as a boarding-house. Around 1940 the Baxters sold to Mr D Cummings, who lived in it with his family for a number of years. When he sold it to the Nelson Lakes National Park Board, the dwelling became known as Cumming's Cottage.
Opposite the Accommodation House lived Mr Charlie Dobson, who started a three day a week passenger and mail service from Lake Rotoiti to Nelson and return. He opened under the name of Dobson's Motors, with the bus leaving for Nelson on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 7.30am and leaving Nelson at 4.30pm, arriving back at the Lake around 7.30pm.
The 1914–1918 war, in which my father had served as a Sergeant cook, played quite a significant part in the building and naming of our cottage. My father was twice Mentioned in Dispatches for outstanding service. He told of how, on one occasion in the Somme battles, they had come into a village and found the remains of a brewery. He promptly set to with his men and heated water in the large vats, giving the tired, dirty, battle-weary men the wonderful luxury of a hot bath, even if the water had, of necessity, to be well shared!
The naming of the cottage at Lake Rotoiti as All Quiet was no doubt influenced by Erich Maria Remarque's book All Quiet on the Western Front, published in 1929. On reaching our destination at the end of a long journey, the suitability of the name All Quiet became obvious. There was a calm all-embracing silence, a peacefulness so profound as to be almost felt, with only the gentle murmur and sigh of the bush and the calling of a bell-bird or tui. Occasionally there would be the far-off sound of someone chopping firewood, the only indication that there was anyone in the area at all. The mountain air was so clear that one felt compelled to draw in long, ecstatic, lungs full, to savour its purity.
There was no electricity at the Two competitors, the Eileen, a Nelson owned boat, and Wakefield garage owner Mr Shuttleworth's 303. The challenge cup was an empty condensed-milk tin, with a handle soldered on and the name of the winning boat scratched importantly on the side. There were boat-sheds along the shoreline below our cottage and my father had a site reserved, but did not bother to have a dinghy. He said they were nothing but trouble from the time they were put into the water. He would have been remembering his boyhood at Church Bay and the constant care and maintenance required on the wooden-hulled boats they had sailed on Lyttelton Harbour.
On our arrival at the cottage we would burst inside and rush either to be first to start playing a small French harmonium, or to claim a top bunk. The harmonium had belonged to our Hughes grandparents, and had to be pedalled energetically and continuously to make it work. A top bunk in the four-bedded bunk-room was the perfect end to the perfect days, as they were up under the sloping ceiling, where the heat rose on a cold night and, best of all, they had lovely, slightly sagging, wires and real feather mattresses. The combination of sagging wires and feather mattress meant that when you climbed up to bed, after the exhilaration of the day's activities, you were practically enveloped in a soft bed of feathers. Through a chink of the door, the hiss of the kerosine and Tilly lamps, or the flicker of the candles gave reassurance. In case Nature called in the night, each bedroom had a curtained corner wardrobe, with a low shelf and discreetly placed Royal Doulton floral china chamber-pot! This saved having to wake the household, and having to walk out alone into the dark, along the path leading to the outside toilet, amongst the manuka bushes, in the freezing night air.
The front bedroom had a double bed with a firm under-mattress, topped by a feather one. From this bed there was a lovely view right to the head of the lake. A large, kauri, Scotch-chest stood along one wall and, in both the front bedroom and lounge, were built-in box-seats which housed spare blankets and grocery and first-aid supplies. On the box-seats were covered cushion squabs and, with any over-flow of visitors, we children were put to bed on them, although they were a trifle hard after the feather-mattressed bunks.
On the bedroom walls were silver-lettered, rose and lily-embellished texts, with words of comfort and assurance of the Divine Presence such as "He Shall Direct Thy Paths", "Behold I Stand At the Door and Knock" and one simply saying "God is Love".
In the living room, above the passage door, was a picture which captured my interest immensely. Father had been greatly interested when Howard Carter had discovered the
Above the French harmonium was a well-filled, glass-fronted bookcase. There were piles of back numbers of the Illustrated London News and National' Geographic magazines on a high shelf, which ran around three sides of the room and which also held vases, ornaments and jardinieres. Several big, red-covered books with coloured illustrations, which had been a wedding present to my parents in 1920, were written very much in the Edwardian style and were entitled The Sunday at Home. These were the types of books, along with a children's set of The Golden Pathway, which we were encouraged to read. My father commented that, if we became accustomed to reading quality literature, we would not be bothered with trash. However, we did enjoy reading friends' comics, such as Tiny Tim, My Favourite, Sparkles, Film Fun, Play Box and Comic Cuts, if we got the chance.
The table in the sitting-room was a large kauri one, with drawers pulling out from underneath on all four sides. Cutlery was contained in one and table-linen and serviettes in a second, with the remaining two holding packs of cards, dominoes, draughts, snakes and ladders, ludo, crib-boards and other games, for playing in the evenings and on wet days.
One of the men from the Home once won a sum of money from the Australian Tattersall's Lottery. He went into Nelson by Surburban bus, to cash in on his winnings, and arrived back some considerable time later, very jovial and slightly intoxicated, in the back of a taxi. Placed beside him was a brand new, wind-up gramophone, with the trade-mark of H.M.V., the little, listening, white fox-terrier, inside the lid-case. The old gentleman had been so grateful to my parents for their care and kindness to him, that he had bought them the gramophone by way of thanks. It was taken to the Lake and was well used, although sometimes arguments would develop as to whose turn it was to rewind it, or to change the thick, steel needles. The used needles were placed in little metal bowls recessed beside the metal arm. As the record slowly ground to a halt, the voices and music strangely lengthened and distorted, until it finally stopped with a screech. We churned out Sousa's famous marches, the rousing Under the Double Eagle, Sir Harry Lauder, popular after a recent concert visit to Nelson and, from the days of the Charleston and flappers, a seedy tenor warbled in falsetto "You can't walk back from an aeroplane, so whatta' you girls gonna' doo hoo hoo?" Another record acknowledged Henry Ford's rise to fame with a catchy, sing-along tune "No more rattles, no more shakes, now she's got those four-wheeled brakes, Henry's made a lady out of Lizzie!" Lex McDonald, the boy soprano, sang To a Wild Rose. Hymns, from Onward Christian Soldiers to Abide With Me, Caruso, with strong operatic arias, nursery-rhymes, comics, Boccarini's Minuet – we loved them all.
The cottage had been well built by my father and was, above all, cosy and warm. Many of the first baches at the Lake were very basic dwellings, with their only means of cooking being iron bars over an open fire. We enjoyed the luxury of a small, black, wood and coal range, which had a small hot-water tank, with a tap on one side, on the front. The knobs were of polished brass. A rack above the stove was useful, not only for heating plates and keeping meals warm, but also for airing and drying clothes and shoes. The very efficient pot-bellied stoves in the farm houses of France, Belgium and
It was seldom that we went alone to the Lake, as Mother would invite our friends, visitors and relatives from away to come and spend a few days with us.
The air gave us enormous appetites to do justice to the plates of freshly-baked scones, hot-buttered and dripping with golden syrup. Rabbit and duck were sometimes on the menu as well. Rabbits were often seen playing outside the cottage in the mornings and evenings and once, after a light fall of snow, there were deer hoof-prints, left silently over night, around the house.
I do not remember how the tradition started, but we always requested that our first meal on arrival at the Lake be sausages and tomatoes – we loved them! The delicious smell of them, spattering in the frying-pan over a manuka fire, with the toast made on the embers, was memorable to say the least.
The days were never long enough for all the adventures we had in store. We followed all the bush tracks and walks around the edge of the lake, usually terminating the walk at one of the gravel screes which had eroded down from the St Arnaud range. Another enchanting path led up the Black Valley stream, winding through ferns and low-growing native shrubs on the forest floor, overshadowed by the tall, black and silver beech trees. From a high bank above the stream, we descended over tree-roots to a log-bridge, which we crossed, holding precariously onto a single strand of No. 8 wire, watching the stream rippling under the mossy bank. This path meandered along, following the course of the stream, and finally came out in a clearing at the rear of the Post Office-store.
John Kerr first released brown trout into the lake in 1873. There was a trout-hatchery at the Black Valley stream, and we would watch, spell-bound, as the Acclimatisation Society Ranger, Mr W A Andrews, milked the shining, red-orange, bead-like eggs from the female trout into a bowl. The eggs were then fertilized by the white milky sperm from the male trout. Young trout were taken from the hatchery in containers by dinghy and released into the lake at selected sites. The hatchery operated from 1926 to 1946. Near the hatchery, in an uneven grassy area, there was a pond which held tadpoles and frogs in the summer. In the winter it froze over, creaking dangerously when we gingerly tested if it would take our weight, to walk across or perhaps, even to skate on. Our happy companion, Roy, was tormented by being sent slithering across, from one side to the other. He held no resentment whatsoever, his enjoyment of the holiday as great as ours, and was soon away, his little black nose scenting out rabbits, hares, birds, stoats, ferrets and weasels, and the paradise and mallard ducks, quacking and feeding on the lake shoreline.
A lot of energy went into building a great variety of manuka-brush huts, from Indian tepee-style, to intricately woven ones with a roof and walls and a carpet of moss on the floor. They even had the refinement of an oven, dug into the bank, with a piece of tin for the oven-tray. A small fire would be lit to cook the cakes, which were fashioned from clay soil and decorated, quite professionally with either manuka seeds or rabbit droppings for the 'raisins' on top.
Fires had burnt through the area at different times. In 1929 a fire swept up the Buller Valley and burned over Black Hill. Road workers and all available manpower helped to fight the blaze. It must have reached as far as the peninsula and, with the clearance, it meant that our house had a practically unrestricted view, right to the head of the lake. The survey pegs of the various sections were clearly visible. The dried skeletons of the dead manuka meant that firewood was readily available in the beginning. Fire in that isolated locality was one hazard that my father feared. After the 1929 fire, Mr J N Blechynden had a 40 metre-wide strip cut, from the nearest point on the road, over to the West Bay lake edge, to provide a fire break and so protect the village from fire. Even so, with the regrowth of manuka and kanuka, most cottages were surrounded again before very long.
My father laboriously brought up logs from dead beech trees below the house and sawed them in the yard, on a large wooden saw-horse. The sawn logs were stacked under the house, in the low basement area. Until the beech forest began to regenerate, the shore-line was clearly visible, much more so than today. In 1956 the Nelson Lakes National Park was formed, and even the dead beech trees would no longer be allowed to be sawn for firewood.
One of our long walks followed the survey-pegs across the peninsula and down the bush track on the western side, to where the Buller River had its source from Lake Rotoiti. We sometimes made a day's outing of this, lighting a camp-fire by a large rock near the shore and picnicking there. In tune with the seasons and nature, we knew where the dainty, native, white and mauve-throated violets, Haka, grew among moss and small ferns, right beside the source of the Buller River.
Returning from there late on the afternoon of May 13, 1931, Mother was carrying me while taking a shortcut through a regrowth of manuka scrub. I had been convalescing following a suspected bout of whooping-cough, and Mother was hurrying before the late afternoon cold descended. Suddenly, and without any warning, live shots from an unseen rifle were crashing around us. A hunter on Black Hill must have seen the movement in the scrub and mistaken us for browsing deer or pigs. With presence of mind, Mother called and sang at the top of her voice, and tried to pacify me as I clung, crying in terror, to her neck. Fortunately the hunter had been a poor shot, and must have been horrified when he became aware of his near-fatal mistake.
The seasons provided different things of interest, with native birds, their nests and habits and the strange and varied lichens, mosses, berries and ferns. After an expedition, we would get a large, meat-baking dish and make a fairy-garden, using as a base the different coloured mosses and green, white, silver and yellow lichens. Some of these were tiny and red-tipped, like fairy matches, while others were goblet-shaped, like miniature wine glasses. In the autumn, we knew where the different coloured toad-stools, yellow, brown, white and a beautiful clear purple, could be found, growing by a fallen tree. Also the pink and red snow-berries, mingimingi, the white berries of the grass-tree and the fern-like lycopodium. In November, green, trowel-leaved orchids appeared through the moss near the house, alongside the very delicate, slim-stalked, ice-blue flowers of the New Zealand bluebell. December was the month for the mistletoe, January for the small white, and the showy red, southern rata.
Our activities were by no means always so innocent, however, and one of these exploits I remember to this day with shame. Accompanying friends around the lake edge in a rowing boat, we pulled the dinghy alongside one of the wooden jetties and began idly playing about, somersaulting over the jetty hand-railings and then, lying on our stomachs, dropped flat stones down through the cracks in the boards, to hear them plop
We usually followed a track which led down to the lake through the native trees, where stones and tree-roots formed a natural stairway. One day, lying on its side down a bank, we saw a dead black cat, quite a rarity in that locality. It fascinated and awed us, with its long, grinning, incisor teeth showing whitely against its black fur. We stared at it and discussed at length what may have caused its demise, nudging it with a careful toe. Becoming bolder, we poked it warily with a stick, not a little fearful, and ready to run for our lives, in case it showed the slightest sign of reincarnation. Nothing happened, so we left it where it lay and wandered off home again. It was some considerable time before our next visit to the Lake, and we couldn't wait to go over and see if the dead black cat was still there. But we stopped in our tracks. Where we had left a pure black cat lying there was nothing but a bleached white skeleton. It did not seen possible, the transformation was so great. We had imagined it would be black All Through, and not have White bones. After considering this, and to end the matter, we covered the remains reverently with moss and put a ring of stones around the spot, to mark the last resting-place of an enigma.
In the early days at the Lake, our supply of rain-water was held in a large tin tank on a high wooden stand. It had been made by Mr Albert Tuffnell, the plumber, who had established his Queen Street, Richmond business in 1915. The sign above his shop read "Where the good tanks come from". In our absence, an idle vandal amused himself by shooting a row of .22 rifle holes around the tank, thereby letting out all the water. My father then built two large concrete tanks, which were recessed into the ground, only showing some three feet above ground. These tanks held many thousands of gallons of water, sufficient for the drier summer months, if used with discretion.
A hand-operated pump was installed in the wood shed, to pump the water from the tank by the house up to the one situated by the garage. On most of his concrete work my father engraved his initials, a capital A over H. They are there on the tanks to this day, with the date alongside. The bath water was heated by an ingenious chip-heater. It spluttered out near-scalding water at one end of the bath and was stoked with small pieces of brush, bark and quick-burning, small wood chips and ends. It heated the bathroom at the same time and, with very hard frosts and occasionally snow outside, it was a real luxury. From time to time the cottage was let in the summer months, when my parents could not get away. Most of their tenants were used to the convenience of a town water supply and had absolutely no idea of conserving the tank water. For this reason, my father did not link the kitchen-stove hot-water-supply system to the bathroom, so that more thought, time and effort had to go into stoking and heating the bath
At night time, after the bus had come in with supplies, we would pick our way along the road from the store in the soft darkness, without the aid of any street lighting. Armed with newspapers, mail and provisions, the quiet cloak of the night would envelop us, the sharp, clear, brilliance of the stars making us feel closer to heaven. Gazing up at the heavens, we would look for the points of the Southern Cross, the Little Dipper and the white shower of the Milky Way, which trailed across the eternal dome of the sky and faded out of sight behind the mountain peaks. A more-pork would call, and be answered by another away in the distance, then all would be silent again, except for the quiet murmur of the bush.
Sadly, the days of pleasure passed all too quickly and it was packing-up time again. We would draw the curtains in the rooms and help clean out the ashes from the fireplaces, which would always be reset so that, on our return, the whole happy cycle was ready to be re-enacted, with lively children bursting through the door, jostling to be first to play the wheezy harmonium, or scrambling up to take possession of a top bunk. With a match to the lamps, another to the stove and heater, we did not have to ask "What's for tea Mother?" It was always sausages and tomatoes.
The basic need of Nelson's European colonists from 1841 onwards was for land suitable for agricultural and pastoral purposes.
The leaders of the settlement were conscious of the crucial part this would play in the ability of the community to be self sufficient and to become prosperous.
From the start people took pride in the growing of vegetables and fruit, and looked on anxiously as newly established farms began to produce crops and to support stock.
As part of the first anniversary celebrations there was a vegetable show in the Institute and a ploughing match using bullocks.
On 18 March 1843 the Nelson Examiner published a lengthy report of a public meeting held on 11 March to form an association to beautify the township and help the farming community to improve their farm stock. The meeting was held in the Institute and there was a good attendance with Alexander McDonald in the chair. The resolutions included the establishment of a society, to be known as The Nelson Agricultural and Horticultural Association, to promote the welfare of the colony and to develop its resources. There were to be three exhibitions each year; in spring, autumn and on the day of the Anniversary Fete. The committee of sixteen included many of the influential men of the day; Captain Wakefield, H A Thompson and Frederick Tuckett, The association's rules and regulations were published on 24 June 1843.
The deaths of several of the committee at Tua Marina and the troubled times that ensued caused a severe check to the Association's activities. It remained inoperative for several months.
The 1844 anniversary celebrations included a show in the British and Foreign school-house in Bridge Street on 2 February. The items on show included fine samples of grain and also hop and tobacco plants.
On 16 April 1844 a meeting was held to take the requisite steps to place the Agricultural and Horticultural Society in a condition to carry out the objects for which it had been established. A subcommittee was formed which added a number of bylaws and reduced the subscription from one pound to ten shillings.
The changes were adopted by a general meeting and the officers elected included William Fox as president and William Cautley as secretary.
An autumn exhibition was held on 2 April 1845. Horticultural produce and grain were exhibited in Francis Otterson's former house in Bridge Street. The exhibition of stock, the first to be held, was in the yard of the Immigration Barracks.
The Nelson Examiner commented that, although the number of cattle shown was not as great as might have been desired, the quality was excellent. Many had recently been imported from England at great cost to their owners.
A further lapse in the activities of the Nelson Agricultural and Horticultural Society then occurred, and a meeting was held on 1 July 1846 to gauge interest in its revival. The meeting was informed that Governor George Grey had offered to subscribe ten guineas to the Society if it was revived.
Grey had proposed sending a collection of trees and shrubs from the Government Gardens in Auckland. He also offered to be the president and suggested that shows be held at a similar time to those in Wellington, so that he could attend.
Grey's generosity decided those present to unanimously agree to the re-establishment of the Society.
The next event was an exhibition in March 1847. There was initial uncertainty about
A ploughing match was held on the 10th at John Saxton's Stoke property, with separate competitions for horse and bullock teams. Grey attended, although suffering the effects of a cold, and gave five guineas towards the prize money.
The horticultural and agricultural sections were held on the 11th and particular mention was made of an excellent sample of wheat from a Maori exhibitor. The reporter expressed the hope that all would be stimulated to increased exertion in garden and on farm and pa, so that the following year's report would be even more favourable.
The Society's Annual General Meeting was held on 27 August 1847. David Monro expressed his opinion that the colony was not sufficiently advanced for an agricultural society to be of much benefit. He thought that the horticultural branch might be carried on and extended.
Discussion followed on the establishing of a botanical gardens, and it was then decided that in future subscriptions and prize money would only apply to the horticultural section. Exhibitions were to be held in April and December, with the annual dinner following the December show.
The Nelson Horticultural Society continued its activities from then on without the agricultural component.
The next attempt to get agricultural interests together came in an advertisement in January 1852. It proposed an Agricultural Association to encourage the breeding and rearing of good stock and the use of improved systems of cultivation. Those in favour were to contact George McRae or Alexander Ogg.
A meeting held at the Star and Garter in Richmond on 7 July 1852 decided to form the Nelson Agricultural Association.
This meeting followed the holding of a sale by the Richmond Cattle Fair Association. These sales had begun in 1851 and, from November 1852, were held on land belonging to the Cattle Fair Association. Cattle sales were held several times a year and the Association was finally wound up in 1889.
The next sign of the Nelson Agricultural Association came with the report of a meeting held in the Richmond Mechanics Institute on 6 October 1859. A revival of interest
This event took place on 8 December 1859. It unfortunately occurred at the same time as the laying of the foundation stone of Nelson College. Nevertheless there was an exceedingly good attendance of visitors at the show. The livestock was good, but the judges felt that there was other really good stock that had not been shown.
In the evening the members and their friends dined in a large marquee erected behind the Star and Garter, with Fedor Kelling in the chair. Kelling was the secretary of the Association.
The timing of the annual shows changed to the autumn, with the next one held on 5 April 1861. This time there were classes for grain, hops, vegetables, cheese and butter, and there were displays of agricultural implements and machinery. The newspaper commented on the immense amount of fun and entertainment exhibited in the little village of Richmond. The judges agreed that stock was of a much better quality than had been seen previously.
For the 1864 show the Nelson Agricultural Association used its newly-built hall for the display of produce. The hall had been built on the Richmond Cattle Fair Association's grounds under a special arrangement. It stood over the road from the Star and Garter.
Standards began to slip and the 1865 show was judged a dead loss. In the opinion of The Colonist 'If the farming community desire to see the Nelson Agricultural Association maintain a position deserving of the name, then they must support it. Unless they do so, they will see it dwindle to a skeleton or a mere fossil.'
Autumn shows were held in 1866, 1868, 1871 and 1872 with mostly indifferent results. It may be that farmers had other things on their minds, such as breaking in their farms. Sir David Monro spoke on the desirability of supporting the Association at the dinner which followed the 1868 show. It was important not just for their own success but for the greater good of the province as a whole.
In 1873 the Association held a sheep show in November. A number of breeds were exhibited and a shearing competition was held. Alfred Allport complained in the newspaper that fleece weights had not been fairly judged.
Another sheep show was held in November 1874 and a general show in 1875. Attendance at the latter suffered through poor weather and the Nelson Evening Mail slated the paucity of exhibits. The editor castigated farmers for jogging along in a careless and indifferent manner. They showed no desire to bring about an improvement in the state of affairs existing in agricultural districts.
Some of the horse classes were good and Stoke residents showed some good sheep and pigs, but cattle were very few. The success of Stoke was attributed to the work of the Farmers' Club which had been established there.
Poultry was poor and farmers' wives were judged to be as indifferent about the quality of their poultry yards as were their lords with regard to the larger and more valuable stock.
The editor explained that his harsh remarks were prompted by a desire to be truthful rather than flattering. No one would derive greater satisfaction from seeing the annual shows become something of which the province could be proud.
The advantages that would accrue were too obvious to need stating, but success could never be secured by the efforts of an energetic few. The committee were deserving of every credit, but they had to have the support of the whole farming community.
The Association also organised annual ploughing matches, and Charles Canning's Rostrevor property was the venue on 27 July 1876. There were twenty five competitors
The November show was also held on Canning's property, using a six acre paddock adjoining the Richmond railway station. A special train brought people from town and the Artillery Band entertained the crowds. Luncheon was held in a goods shed.
The Mail's scribe praised the new venue, contrasting it with the cramped, unsuitable fair ground with its dark hall. There had apparently been a difference of opinion among the stewards over the change, but the evident success showed that the right decision had been made.
General exhibits included local hops, wine and leather. Entries in the dairy section were more numerous, with keen competition. Cattle were in greater numbers but showed little improvement. This was because no new blood had been brought in for some time, with the exception of a bull belonging to Charles Canning.
The sheep were the most creditable part of the stock exhibited, especially the Romney Marsh and Leicesters. The efforts of the secretary, Mr Malcolm, and the stewards were commended. The day ended with a ball in the Agricultural Hall.
The 1877 show was held on 9 November, the Prince of Wales' birthday. The public holiday, combined with fine weather and a special train, saw an attendance of almost 3,000.
The arrangements were excellent and everyone thoroughly enjoyed the day out. Sporting events added to the entertainment.
The exhibits, however, fell far short of what was desirable. The continuing failure to import new stock meant that there was little likelihood of improvement in the future.
Charles Canning was praised for again making his land available as a venue and for his efforts, along with the other volunteers in organising the show. The Mail expressed the hope that farmers would back these efforts and take the trouble needed, if the Agricultural Show was to achieve the success it deserved.
The hope proved a vain one, as the 1877 show was the last one held for sixteen years. The Nelson Agricultural Association continued to be listed in directories, with J W Barnicoat as the chairman but no further activities were reported.
A new era began in October 1893 when George Talbot, the mayor of Richmond, called a public meeting and the Nelson Agricultural and Pastoral Association was formed. The first show was held on 29 November 1893 at Richmond Park, by arrangement with the Nelson Jockey Club, which had bought the 100 acre site from Charles Canning in 1884.
Sources: This article was prepared from research notes left by Mr W C R Sowman. Sutton, J. How Richmond Grew. 1992.
The Captain of the 'General Williams' was not a happy man. It was near the end of the New Zealand whaling season and his crew was restless. His first mate had broken a shoulder bone at sea, which had resulted in an enforced month in port, and now two men had deserted. The Captain decided to cut his losses and return to America. The two deserters, holed up at Wakapuaka, watched with mixed feelings as the 'General Williams' sailed out of Tasman Bay. Both were experienced whalers and knew that the shore-based stations in Tory Channel and Port Underwood would work until October. After that it would be every man for himself. They loaded up the ship's boat, stolen when they deserted, with their few trade goods and rowed the 80 miles to Cloudy Bay in search of work.
In 1839 there were eight whaling stations operating in the Cook Strait area. One of the deserters, William Deakin (pronounced Daken), found work at Kakapo Bay in Port Underwood. A rope-maker by trade, he had been whaling out of New London, Connecticut, since his arrival in America in 1832. Born in Warwickshire, England, in 1811, he had married Mary Jones, a Welsh girl, in Birmingham in 1831. Shortly after their marriage they emigrated to Long Island, New York, where their first son, William Price, was born. In 1833 they were living at New London, a prominent whaling and ship building port, when John was born, and they were still there for the birth of Robert in 1836. William Deakin then left on a whaling voyage, which took him ten years to complete.
Working at both the Tory Channel and Port Underwood whaling stations, he lived at Tom Cane's Bay, where he met Mary Ann Baldick, nee Sherwood, the widow of George Baldick. She had arrived in June 1840 on the barque Hope from Sydney, with her husband who had been employed by Frederick Unwin Wright. Wright, a solicitor of Sydney, had purchased land in the Wairau in March 1840, and intended to build a house there and stock the farm with cattle. With this in mind he sent several Sydney labourers, their wives and children, building equipment and thirty two head of cattle to Cloudy Bay.
At Tom Cane's Bay, Port Underwood, they were met by James Wynen who was in charge of the land. He settled the families in old whaler's whares and the men began work at the Wairau, returning each fortnight for provisions. In September, six of the men drowned while trying to cross the Wairau Bar in a leaky square bottomed boat, laden with provisions, on a squally day. Mary Ann Baldick was left a widow with four young children, and was not yet 26 years old. As the Hope had returned to Sydney, she could do nothing but stay at Tom Cane's Bay. Being a resourceful woman, she made the most of her difficult situation.
On 27 December 1840, after banns were called, William Deakin and Mary Ann Baldick were married. They set up home at Tory Channel where their first son, Thomas, was born in November 1841. By August 1844 they were back at Tom Cane's Bay for the birth of Matthew. Whalers in the Wellington and Port Underwood areas frequently treated the Maori with scant respect, abusing the woman and threatening the men, and relations between the two peoples were often strained. In addition, a dispute over the land allegedly owned by Unwin resulted in the conflict of Tuamarina in June 1843 and made the area bounding Cook Strait a dangerous place to live.
According to one report, three Englishmen fled to Port Underwood in 1846, after threats
When he arrived in New London, Deakin discovered that his first family had returned to Wales. He followed them and brought them back to America, where they became Mormons in 1852 and moved to Utah in 1861. After the death of his first wife, William Deakin thought of returning to New Zealand, but finally became too old to travel. Before his father's death in 1893, John Deakin promised to try and find Mary Ann's two sons. In 1916 he made contact with Mary Mills, eldest daughter of Thomas and Esther Daken, and it is from their letters that much of the Deakin information comes.
Current debate about the future of Ngawhatu Hospital gives an opportunity to look back at the history of this tranquil valley. Use of the area for institutional housing began in 1885, when the Roman Catholic authorities bought a 373 acre farm as the site for a boys' orphanage. The farm had originally been part of a larger property owned by Thomas Renwick, which had stretched from the Main Road to the top of the Barnicoat Range.
Nathaniel Fowler had bought the 373 acres in question in 1876, with the balance of Renwick's property being sold to Frederick Trolove in 1878. Both men had previously been in the Amuri, Fowler on the Hopefield Run and Trolove at Woodbank, on the Clarence River.
Access to Fowler's farm should have been via a designated road from the top of what is now Songer Street, but it had never been opened up. In 1881 the Stoke Road Board advertised that it was opening a new road along the south side of section 53. Now known as Polstead Road, it provided the necessary access to the property. After the sale of his farm to the Catholic Church in 1885, Nathaniel Fowler moved to the North Island and he died in Tauranga in 1895.
The Church had begun caring for orphans in 1872, following the arrival in Nelson of the Sisters of the Mission. Prior to that, children had been taken by the orphanage run by Richard Wallis at Motueka. Accommodation was provided at Manuka Street for Catholic children, and the Provincial Government made a payment of a shilling a day for each child. The number of children increased considerably after the St Mary's Orphanage was gazetted under the Industrial Schools Act of 1882. Children of other denominations and from other areas were now received and, by 1884, 79 girls and 99 boys were in care.
The categories of those committed under the Act included being destitute, vagrant, uncontrollable, living in disreputable places and guilty of punishable offences. The cost of their care was subsidized by central government. The local Charitable Aid Board sent children whose parents were unable to care for them, through poverty or other reasons, and subsidized them. In some cases families paid for a child's care.
The property at Stoke was bought to provide accommodation for boys of eight years and older. The site was regarded as ideal, being dry and healthy; a place where the most delicate boy would have the very best chance of developing into sturdy manhood. On 14 December 1885 Father William Mahoney gave a picnic for a number of guests at St Mary's Estate, to celebrate the commencement of work on the property. Parts of the estate had been planted in trees or were under cultivation, and it had already been stocked with a number of cattle. The architect of the proposed building, A.F.T. Somerville, was on hand to show guests the plans. The two storied wooden building was to have a 78 foot tower with an open belfry. The water supply was to come from the creek which flowed down the valley.
John Scott's tender of three and a half thousand pounds was accepted and he had completed the building by August 1886. It had two large dormitories upstairs and could accommodate 150 boys. The orphanage was blessed by Bishop Redwood on 18 August and a celebration concert was held in the evening. The 300 guests had to struggle through rain and mud, but it didn't spoil their enjoyment. After the clergy departed, the Bijou Band struck up and there was dancing until 2am. The Stoke branch of St Mary's Industrial School was generally known as the Stoke Orphanage. Dean William Mahoney was in charge, with Mr Murphy as the master and a staff of secular teachers and attendants.
The boys received schooling and were to be trained in gardening, farm work and trades
In 1889, after problems with management, Archbishop Redwood asked the Marist Order to take charge of the institution. The French lay teaching order saw advantages in taking up the offer. The climate would make it ideal for retirement or convalescence, it would be a venue for retreats and the farm would provide employment for brothers unsuited to teaching. The Marist Brothers took charge with high hopes, but faced difficulties which their training was unlikely to have fitted them to meet. Their experience in teaching had not included the fulltime care of youngsters, and the orphanage was grossly overcrowded, with 10 brothers responsible for 180 boys. In 1892 Father Mahoney reported that the tone and conduct of the boys had much improved. He considered that discipline was good, although it might be more paternal. Nominally in charge, he left the running to the brothers and this was to be a cause of later trouble.
Further land had been purchased when Trolove's Leadale Farm was offered for sale in June 1891. The 300 acre block stretched down to the main road. The remainder of the Trolove property, covering what is now York Valley and the hill country, was bought by George Norgrove. A new wing was added at the south end of the building in December 1894, which contained a chapel and another dormitory. This increased the institution's capacity to 250 boys. A building was also brought from town to provide classroom and workshop space.
The daily routine for the orphanage boys was one of work on the farm in the mornings and school classes in the afternoons. Fr Mahoney complained that farm work tended to encroach on class time. A bathing hole was formed in the creek so that the boys could learn to swim. In October 1890, thirteen year old John Rogers ran away when some boys threatened him with a dunking. Despite extensive searches he was not found, and his
In the community at large, a strong feeling of unease about the running of the institution came to a head in 1900. Two boys, James Maher and Albert James, absconded in May of that year. They ended up with the Drummond family in the Moutere and had work arranged for them on local farms. One of the boys wrote to a friend at the orphanage and this resulted in their being arrested and taken before a magistrate. He ordered their return to the institution for punishment. An alternative open to the magistrate was to order whipping by the police and one boy expressed a preference for this. Punishment at the orphanage was by supplejack on the hand and solitary confinement for the number of days absent. Rumours of excessive punishment circulated in the town and members of the Charitable Aid Board paid a surprise visit. They found evidence of solitary confinement and the Nelson Evening Mail called for an enquiry into the different regimes between state and private industrial schools. George Hogben, the secretary to the Department of Education, came to Nelson and concluded that the community's unease could not be allayed or the exact truth be ascertained, without an enquiry.
The Commission of Enquiry opened in the Provincial Hall on 22 July 1900. Its terms of reference covered the previous two years but, after protest, were extended to five years. Charges brought by the Charitable Aid Board were that:
The enquiry took three weeks and was covered exhaustively in the newspapers. Its report was presented to parliament at the end of August 1900. The Commission found that the buildings were good and the playgrounds and swimming baths were excellent.
There were insufficient inside baths.
On the particular charges it found:
Reviewing the evidence given by current and ex-inmates, the Commission felt that a great deal of it was tainted with exaggeration. This resulted from antagonism towards the two brothers who had since been remove. It criticised Fr Mahoney for letting the management of the school pass from him, but accepted that he had not known what had been happening. It recommended that he remain as Manager.
In general the Commission felt that standards of cleanliness were not high enough, outside work needed to be more systematic, a doctor should be appointed to inspect periodically and a classification system for inmates was needed. The school authorities had acted promptly and with good spirit to make changes, and welcomed being placed under the same regulations as others.
An amendment to the Act, prohibiting the control of private Industrial Schools by overseas organisations, compelled the departure of the Marist Brothers in September 1900. General community hostility and the requirement to employ women would, in any case, have made it difficult for them to remain. An article in the Auckland Weekly News likened the Stoke Industrial School to Dickens' Dotheboys Hall and expressed sadness that such conditions existed in a New Zealand institution which came under the nominal heading of 'charitable'.
Fr Mahoney was shattered by the whole experience and left for overseas where he died in 1903. The two brothers who had been singled out appeared in the Wellington Supreme Court on twelve charges of assault and two of indecent assault. Ten charges were dropped and verdicts of not guilty were returned on the other four.
Fr George Mahoney became the new manager and Mr & Mrs Fitzgerald, formerly of Seaview, took charge. A report at the end of 1901 expressed satisfaction with the results of reorganisation at the school. A great change for the better was noticed in the tone and the boys looked remarkably healthy. It stressed the importance of systematic and varied industrial training being part of school life.
Even under the new regime, life was no picnic for the boys. Alf, who was born at Bedstead Gully in 1893, was sent to the Nelson orphanage when his mother died in 1896. When he turned eight he was sent to Stoke, and his main memory was of hunger. Breakfast was porridge, often burnt, skim milk and a mug of tea. Midday dinner was stew and at teatime a slice of bread and dripping, jam and a mug of tea.
Various strategies were used to get extra food. They blew bird's eggs and ate the contents, selling the shells to farmers for a penny a dozen. Eggs from the fowlhouse were wrapped in mud and cooked on a fire. There were eels in the creek and swedes and turnips in the hills. The breadcart was raided as it went up the hill, and tins were concealed in buckets of dirty water during kitchen chores. Sugar and butter were taken to make toffee.
Alf recalled the harsh discipline and rote-learning. When a boy died of croup, he helped carry the coffin up the hill. He learned to stand on his own two feet because he had to, to survive.
On 27 April 1903, the orphanage building was destroyed by fire in the early hours of
In 1910 the property was sold to the government and the institution was then run by the Education Department. Additions were built in 1912, with 114 boys in residence at that time. The institution became known as the Boys' Training Farm.
Memories of this time come from Raymond, who was born in Westport. He was taken out of school at the age of eight to work on his parents' farm. When this was reported to the authorities in 1917, Raymond and a brother were sent to the Training Farm. Numbers had dropped to about 20. His memory was also of being hungry all the time. The bill of fare has a familiar ring, although there was a roast dinner on Sundays. He had indoor chores to do and also worked on the farm. He recalled being hit with a stick if he talked after lights out. When he turned thirteen, Raymond was sent to live on a farm.
Changes in policy led to the closure of the institution at the end of March 1919. With decentralisation and the use of cottage homes, the need for it no longer existed. For a short time it was used as a special school for backward boys, and it was sold for use as a mental hospital in 1920. The brick orphanage building was condemned in 1962 and was finally demolished in February 1967.
Today, the only sign of the hundreds of boys who passed through the Stoke branch of St Mary's Industrial School is in the cemetery on the hill, behind the Ngawhatu chapel. In a grove of pine trees lies a broken memorial stone listing the names of the boys who are buried there. Iron railings surround the grave of Patrick Byrne, a seventy-two year old farmer who died at Richmond in 1894. There is also a gravestone for John Brosnahan, a nineteen year old former inmate, who drowned in the creek while on a visit in 1919.
This story was instigated primarily by an enquiry from visitors from the United States of America. On 12 July 1990 Gordon and Evelyn Gapper called at the Richmond Information Centre, explaining that they were from Flint in Michigan. They were here in Nelson to walk the Abel Tasman Park track. Gordon Gapper believed that his ancestors had lived in this area in the early years of colonisation, and that one of them had been named Richmond after the borough. Subsequent research uncovered a very interesting story about his ancestors' advent in Nelson's early history.
The Gapper family was amongst the passengers on board the Clifford on its arrival in Nelson on 11 May 1842. Its members were Bernard Gapper aged 35, a farm labourer, his wife Mary, 39, and their children Francis, 13, Edward, 11, Mary, 7, Anna Eunice, 1 and baby Amelia who was 6 weeks old. The family was from Stoke under Ham, near Yeovil in Somerset. Although Gapper's occupation was given as farm labourer, he had been running a grocery and drapery store, and a poster advertising his sale of stock before departure is held at the Nelson Provincial Museum.
The Clifford's voyage out to New Zealand was not altogether a happy one, being beset with an assortment of troubles, sickness, personal grievances and jealousy. These were of such magnitude that when Captain Arthur Wakefield was informed, he accused some passengers of having been small minded and inconsiderate grumblers of the highest order. Bernard Gapper had been appointed assistant to the surgeon for the voyage and Dr Hughes stated that, although he had had a most difficult office to administer, Gapper had behaved with good temper and shown great commonsense.
Gapper undertook the job of a police constable in the town and took part in the illfated expedition to the Wairau in June 1843. He was shot in his right hand during the affray, ultimately losing the use of it for the rest of his life. He managed to get down to the sea coast to rejoin the brig Victoria, and spent some time in Wellington Hospital getting treatment for his smashed hand.
On his return from the Wairau, Gapper was dismissed from the Police and became a storekeeper in Bridge Street. John Saxton commented in October 1843 that the store was in Old Sam's house, which had been the first to be built in Nelson. This was probably Samuel Newport, who Saxton usually referred to as Old Newport.
Gapper sought various government posts and was postmaster and signalman for a time. In April 1848 he applied for a position in the Post Office or Customs Department, and was offered one as a messenger to the Colonial Secretary's Office. After initially accepting, he turned it down and in 1849 became Landing waiter in the Customs Department.
The Gapper family had grown with the birth of two more sons, Carrington in 1844 and Theophilus in 1849. By this time he owned land at Appleby, which his two eldest sons were developing. The area had been named after the home of Jacob Batey, a friend from the voyage of the Clifford, who came from Appleby, in Westmoreland. The land was of a very swampy nature and extended from Landsdowne Road to Swamp Road and down to the tidal flats. At the 1849 census, thirtyfour acres had been cleared and sown in wheat, oats, and barley, and there were 18 cattle and 34 sheep on the property.
By 1855 Bernard Gapper had retired from the Customs Department and the family were living on Axe Farm. An insight into life on the farm is provided by a journal, which
The entries show a meticulous attention to detail, recording work done on the farm, or for neighbours, such as cutting rushes, thrashing at Giffords, fetching the reaper and ploughing and thatching. The workers named include Gapper and his sons, and also Henry Withy, John Griffin, Sydney Hains and Oscar Palmer. The effects of heart disease brought Bernard Gapper's active work on the farm to an end in 1863. Subsequent entries for his activities are blank or have the word sick.
Sheep were grazed on Rabbit Island and there are references to work on the Island. Carrington Gapper occasionally went to the Amuri to work for William McRae. In 1860 the youngest son, Theophilus, went to board at Mr Packer's school run by the Nelson School Society at Hope. There is a list of the boy's clothing outfit, from cape and boots to belts, comforters, slippers and toothbrush. In 1866 he refers to the February flooding, the water higher by 8 inches than at any other time, being 3 inches deep in the bedroom and 4 inches in the dining room.
The journal also includes recipes for curing a cough or cold, for curing a cow with sore teats, for softening putty and for blueing or browning gun barrels. A black oil for sprains includes compound tincture of myrrh, linseed and turps. Life on the farm wasn't all work, and there are references to cricket and rifle shooting, and even the words to a song – Mrs Savoir's volunteer song The Two Barrels. The song describes the barrel in the corner, full of ale, and that hanging in readiness by the chimney, and ends:
And whether the spigot or trigger we draw Our barrels won't fail us, I mean So tankards or rifles let's charge, hip hurrah For freedom, our country and Queen
The entries also itemize money paid for labour or goods, and received for the sale of stock. The receipts include payments for board and lodging from the Government for Jane Hope between 1861 and 1863. Her story was told in the 1989 Journal.
Bernard Gapper had apparently received a reasonable education in his youth as, throughout his life in Nelson, his allround knowledge and organising ability were in constant demand. He was a staunch follower of the Methodist Church and was a circuit steward. Gapper is recorded as giving unstinted time and aid to members of this faith, as well as to many others in the Nelson settlement. He helped members of the church in Motueka with the building of their place of worship.
Bernard Gapper died in his 64th year on 31 August 1869 and lies in the Appleby churchyard. Mary Gapper lived to the age of 91, dying on 13 December 1892, and is buried with her husband. Their youngest daughter, Amelia, married Thomas Rogers and the Axe Farm property then passed down through the Rogers family.
Gordon Gapper, whose enquiry sparked this research, was found to be descended from the Gapper's eldest son, Francis Henry, who married Julia Slatter. It is unfortunate that Evelyn and Gordon Gapper did not make contact again to learn the fascinating story of their Nelson ancestors.
In Victorian era days of New Zealand, the European population could be grouped in three classes, based on their source of income. First, families whose income was derived from the wage-earner's labour; second, the small farmer, the trades-people and the civil service group; and third, the wealthy land-occupier, those in the professions or in politics.
It is difficult today to appreciate just how different life was in New Zealand society one hundred or more years ago. Apart from the material things, such as transport commonly being by horse and coach or, where they existed, by steam-trains, the culture of those days was so entirely different. In just one example, today when we go into a bank or a post office, our wants are seen to from behind the counter by women. The manager may be a man or a woman. It is not too many years ago that there were mostly men behind the office counter, and the manager was always a man!
The great social changes of the 1890s such as women's suffrage, the introduction of the first state-funded pension schemes and the opening of wide areas of land for small farm settlement, seem to have accelerated changes in New Zealand's social mores and culture. But it took the sacrifices demanded of many families during the 1914–1918 War to break down class distinction, and introduce the more willing acceptance of women into the civil service and professional areas.
In the Victorian era, the male income earner was usually dominant, and it was difficult for women to be accepted as equals. This was just as true of employment opportunities, including the banking and the civil service groups. It also seems to have been true of the early teaching profession, as early lists of teachers are very largely comprised of men. But, as more and more independent and strong-minded women commenced carving out careers for themselves in the several professions, it became easier for other women to enter those areas of the workforce.
The Post Office is an excellent example of the change from a male dominated profession in the 1850s, to a service far more gender balanced by the 1950s. Though post offices have been operating in New Zealand from 1840, at first they were mostly "add-on" duties. When the Department was formed in 1858, the first fee full-time salaried employees were all men. Likewise, with the formation of the Telegraph Department in 1864, the staff were all men. By the time the offices were merged in 1881, to form the Post and Telegraph Department, a few women had achieved appointment.
It needs to be appreciated that most post offices commenced as agencies, operated out of a settlement's general store. Not until the telegraph office arrived did the agency move to a "staffed" office. In country areas, the telegraphist was also the Lineman, who had the responsibility of maintaining the line for miles in either direction. He was also usually made the postmaster, taking over from the store. The departmental policy was that the appointee preferably be a married man, so that when he was out working on the lines, his wife could run the office; no extra pay of course!
The telegraph line reached Nelson, from Blenheim via Havelock, in March 1866 when a telegraph office was opened in Nelson. The Provincial Council sponsored an extension line to Motueka, which opened on 27 May 1872 under 21-year old Charles Edmund Nicholas. When extended over the ranges to Takaka, the service was at first operated by telephone. Joseph Francis Fabian, who had already had ten years experience in isolated localities on the Wellington – Hawkes Bay line, opened the Takaka office on 1 April 1881.
In the south, a line had worked its way up the Buller from Reefton, reaching Lyell in
At this time Lyell was an important goldmining centre, with both Postmaster/Telegraphist, and a lineman. The latter was Lyvian Warne, who was moved to establish the key lineman's station through the Buller at Longford on 1 March 1878.
Though I have not located the names of the wives of these pioneer appointments, we can be sure that they had the responsibility of looking after the office in their husband's absence. The country post office building in the mid 1870s was a standard design of a combined office/residence, single storey and built of timber. The front room was used as the office and, as business grew and more rooms were taken over, the family was squeezed into what was left, until an alternative residence was taken up.
It was actually quite expensive to erect a small office/residence and to employ a skilled man, and when it was found, around 1881, that telephones could be used over telegraph lines, the local storekeeper-postmaster was made a telephonist, in preference to opening a telegraph office. The first women telegraphists had entered the service, in the South Island, in 1874, but it was not until the opening of more and more telephone exchanges, in the 1890s, that they were able to enter the service in greater numbers, through becoming exchange-attendants.
Miss Barbara Mouat, then aged a little under 20, appears to be the first woman in New Zealand to have been accepted in the Telegraph Learner's Gallery in Wellington, starting on 1 January 1874. After her three month's training, she was sent to the Nelson telegraph office as a cadet, on a salary of 75 pounds a year. Two years later she was brought back to Wellington as telegraphist and, in September 1877, was sent to Dunedin. She was later appointed the first salaried or permanent staff postmistress in New Zealand, taking over the South Dunedin office from 1 February 1884. Even then she was listed separately, in the non-clerical division, and not amongst the men!
The "liberalisation" decade of the 1890s also saw women being appointed as full-time salaried postmistresses, usually in small country settlements. On the civil service becoming "classified" for salary and promotion purposes in 1894, such few women were described as "Extra-classified", though they were still listed amongst storekeeper agencies. Their maximum annual salary of 65 pounds was less than that paid to the men, and they faced other restrictions.
A slowly increasing number of post offices became extra-classified and, in 1908, opening of access to civil service superannuation schemes for women forced re-examination of their status.
The following notice regarding the employment of women was gazetted in 1907:
"22. Females will be admitted as cadets, but they will be appointed only to such vacancies as are suitable to females. They will belong to the Non-clerical Division only, but will be required to produce the certificates prescribed for cadets in the Clerical Division. The age for admission for females is between sixteen and twenty-five years, but women not above the age of forty years may be appointed to the Non-clerical Division if they have for a term of two years previously been continuously employed by the Department of Postmistresses or in any other capacity. Not more than three persons of the same family shall be employed in the Department at one time. Not more than one daughter in a family shall be eligible for appointment as a telephone-exchange cadette. Married
About 50 such extra-classified post offices throughout New Zealand were up-graded to "permanent" status or grade from 1 July 1908, and a little after that "extra" became "non-classified", to separate them more distinctly from the agency, or non-permanent post offices.
It is interesting to note that no such extra-classified offices had been created in Nelson. As post offices were moved from the country store or railway station into newly erected post and telegraph buildings, such as those at Richmond and Wakefield, the first permanent postmasters were men. When Upper Moutere was upgraded to permanent on 24 February 1911, Alice Robinson was the first permanent officer; the first woman to achieve this in Nelson.
In the other districts, the young women appointed extra-classified postmistresses seem to have come from varied origins. Some are known to have been widows of serving telegraphists, given the position both to assist them financially, and to use their existing skills at a cheaper rate than would be the case if fully-trained men, on a higher salary, were employed. Other young women were daughters of local settlers, and may have gained the post through political patronage. It was not until 1912 that service independence in appointment was officially achieved.
The two other major areas where women entered the workforce were through becoming a general storekeeper agency-postmistress, or by being a schoolmistress appointed to certain schools. There is no doubt that, at many of the several hundred store-post offices that had opened in New Zealand by the 1880s, the postal work was actually carried out by the wives or daughters, though the postmastership was in the male's name. But increasingly, from the 1880s, women working in this area were appointed to the post office.
Listed are those rural post offices where women had been appointed prior to 1910. Most of these are thought to have been at general stores, though Aorere was probably at the dairy factory at mat time, and two or three others were in farmhouses. In the lists of appointment, which are about the only surviving records, the titles "Mrs" or "Miss" were rarely shown. 2.
Mind you, none of these women would have become rich from being appointed agency-postmaster. Though, undoubtedly, the quarterly-paid salary often gave them a sense of independence, the standard salary was only six pounds a year. Examples of storekeeper-postmaster daughters transferring to full-time "extra-classified" post-offices are known.
The other area where women were employed quite early in the postal service, was through their primary profession as school-teachers. At quite a few country schools, particularly in the South Island, the school was also made the local post office, and the teacher, the postmaster. This was quite logical, as children moving between school and home were able to distribute the mail. Often incoming teachers had no option but to also take over the post office, receiving the same six pounds a year modicum of additional salary.
The earliest schoolmistress appointment seems to have been that of Kathleen Barry, at Stoke, in 1888. As with storekeeper postmistress appointments, it is difficult to ascertain the main occupation of the women, prior to 1893, and assumptions have to be made. It is hoped that readers will tell us where we are wrong!
The following list is of early school-post office appointments in Nelson:
Nearly always forgotten, rarely appointed or listed by their own name, nevertheless the work of women in the early post and telegraph service was an essential contribution to the development of the our country's communications. It has been a pleasure to identify and record their names.
The gruesome details of the hanging at the Nelson Gaol-yard of three of the perpetrators of the Maungatapu murders, on 5th October 1866, has been well documented in many publications. Not so well known or publicised is the hanging of Robert Wilson, a little over a year later in the same yard and using the same scaffold. The date was Friday 20th December 1867.
Robert Wilson and James Lennox arrived at Westport on 28 July 1867 aboard the small schooner Rifleman. They formed a "mateship" to prospect for gold in the Deadmans Creek area, a few miles beyond Westport. After a few days Wilson returned to Westport, telling others that his mate had left him.
On the 2nd September 1867 two prospectors, working their way up Deadmans Creek, came upon the body of a young man submerged in the stream. They left the body as it was found, made their way to Westport and reported their find to the Police. Next day the prospectors, accompanied by a constable, returned to the scene, recovered the body and identified it as being that of James Lennox. The body showed signs of foul play as there were gashes to the head.
A search of the general area located a tent site and various items belonging to Lennox. Robert Wilson was found at Waites Pakihi, where he had discovered a profitable lead. He stated to the Police that Lennox had taken off for Caledonian Terraces, but a search of his swag revealed items that had belonged to his former mate, and his tent had blood stains. He was arrested for the murder and, following a preliminary coroner's hearing at Westport, was remanded to Nelson for trial.
The trial began on 19th November 1867. The prisoner was respresented by Albert Pitt, the Crown by Henry Adams, and Mr Justice Richmond presided. A common jury was empanelled. Much circumstantial evidence was given by the Crown's many witnesses. The Defence called only one, Peter Cooke, a shoemaker, to rebut earlier evidence as to whether a pair of boots found among Wilson's possessions would fit his feet.
After a two day trial the jury retired for one hour, before returning the Guilty verdict. The death sentence was pronounced. On being asked if he wished to say anything, Wilson replied by simply stating that he was not guilty. He was incarcerated in Nelson Gaol to await his fate. The warrant for execution was received by the Sheriff on 19th December 1867 and carpenters worked during the night, erecting the modified scaffold in the gaol yard. A grave had already been dug by prisoner Sullivan on the hill behind the gaol.
Robert Wilson suffered the extreme penalty of the law on Friday 20th December 1867, a few minutes after 8am, for the murder of his mate, James Lennox, at Deadmans Creek in the Buller goldfield. The prisoner, although stating after the trial that he was not guilty of the murder, when asked just prior to the hanging if he wished to make a statement, said he had nothing to say, which to those present implied his acceptance of guilt.
The hangman was masked but his visible grey whiskers showed him not to be a young man. A fellow prisoner, he demonstrated considerable ineptitude for preparing Wilson for his fate, and it was evident that he was not used to his work. After he had let the drop fall he went into a building, out of sight, but was called back by the doctors in attendance to add his weight to the body for some seconds. The pulse of the prisoner did not cease for 17 minutes, when the doctors pronounced death. The Reverend Father Charevre attended Wilson. After 30 minutes the body was removed, an inquest was held and the interment took place that evening.
An enigma in this story was revealed at the trial. Wilson was convicted on the circumstantial evidence that some of the property belonging to Lennox was found in his possession and that his tent was bloodstained. During a systematic search, a number of items belonging to Lennox were found distributed around the former campsite, some at a distance from it, some even buried. Yet the body was left in plain view. It was said that it would have been an easy matter to have dragged the body into the dense bush and buried it, where it would probably never have been found. A few days before the execution The Colonist reported that by some means, probably gaol telepathy, the identity of the prisoner who had volunteered for the task of hangman became known to the inmates of the gaol. A few days prior to the Wilson execution, the prisoners were working in Botanical Gardens and were observed by a bystander to pounce on one of their number. With a one, two, three they flung him far into the waterhole, from where the warders dragged him out looking like a half drowned rat.
Dick Sowman will probably be best remembered by members for his excellent history of the Nelson Acclimatisation Society 'Meadow, Mountain, Forest and Stream' published in 1981, and for his wonderfully retentive memory, from which he could unerringly pluck a wide range of interesting anecdotes, historic details and dates.
Discussions with Dick might traverse his memories of meetings with the Nelson Anglers Club in the old Trout Hatchery in Albion Square, Stoke at the time of his childhood (his father was publican at the Turf Hotel) and his family links with William and Naomi Songer, or his great passion, tramping, hunting and fishing the Nelson back country.
Dick's bearing bore the unmistakable stamp of his years as a sergeant major in the army, and he played influential roles in a number of organisations, notably the Nelson Acclimatisation Society and the Nelson Agricultural and Pastoral Association.
Dick's death in January this year, at the age of 84, unfortunately occurred before a proposed oral history interview and visit to the restored Trout Hatchery could take place. Nelson history and this Society has lost a staunch and enthusiastic advocate.
Nevil was born in Blenheim and was proud to be 6th generation Marlburian. His early years were greatly influenced by life at the grand home of Argyll with his maternal grandmother, parents, brothers and sisters.
When Nevil left school be began 35 years with the Post Office as a talented technician. The job involved many opportunities for travel, especially in Marlborough and he began to develop a tremendous range of acquaintances and knowledge of special places.
In 1959 Nevil and Prue married and began a long, loving and happy partnership. Both Nevil and Prue had their own interests but were always there to support each other and their family.
As the family grew, Sunday outings became a feature, as Nevil followed up interesting leads to our history. His engaging personality saw him develop a host of friendships and the respect of the district.
Nevil's interest in history developed further with his joining various organisations. He was a member of the Marlborough Historical Society for the past 25 years, being its president for 15, and became involved in many aspects of history. I saw Nevil as a link between great historians of the past, people like Frank Smith, Alan Hale, Bert Kennington and Norman Brayshaw, and the present generation.
Dr. Thomas Renwick, a Scot, arrived in Nelson in 1842 and became prominent in community affairs there. In 1848 he purchased Dumgree in the Awatere, where William Brydon worked for him. Brydon's daughter was the first white girl born in the Awatere. Dr Renwick bought the Delta Dairy property at Waihopai from Edward Green. Brydon had successfully developed this farm for the Hon. Constantine Dillon and Green had acquired the property after Dillon's untimely death by drowning.
Howard Lakerman, assistant to the surveyors Cyrus Goulter and Joseph Ward, suggested to Renwick that a portion of his land should be surveyed into town sections. Six acres were allotted for a church and a school. Names of battles, generals and English villages, such as Oudenarde, Clive, Havelock, Clyde, Alma, Picton, Anglesey and Uxbridge were adopted for street names.
Travel was difficult and often dangerous; the country being rough and swampy, with areas of bush and no roads or bridges. Blenheim, or Beaver, was still a swamp, with Mr Sinclair's home the first house there. The town was named after its founder and benefactor and for many years was called Renwicktown.
John Godfrey, one of the earliest residents in the locality, had squatted on 20 acres belonging to Dr Renwick and put up an accommodation house, the Wairau Hotel. It was better known as the Sheepskin Tavern, as its walls were largely composed of sheepskins. Renwick allowed Godfrey to fence off the section where the Sheepskin Tavern stood, and to remain there for a peppercorn rental. A plaque in Uxbridge Street, near the Renwick Bowling Club, records the spot where the Sheepskin Tavern stood.
Following provision of an accommodation house for travellers on foot, horseback or bullock wagon, other businesses were set up. Gustaf Bary, who married Sarah Blaymires, established a store on the corner of Uxbridge and High Streets, which was later carried on by his sons. He collected butter from outlying farms, processed it and exported it to England. His store was a two-storey wooden building.
On the opposite corner, across High Street, was Watson's furniture and hardware store. The first wheelwright was MacAllister. Robert Watson, a blacksmith, also acted as a vet and he drowned in the Wairau River while returning from Northbank, where he had been attending to a valuable horse. Walter Watson, known as Daddy, was a builder, undertaker, and a man of many parts who, in his latter years, became a gold prospector. He employed W Boyle as a blacksmith and George Coward and Tunnicliffe as wheel-wrights. Daddy Watson's sons joined him in his business as plumber, painter, cabinetmaker, picture framer etc. Reuben Watson ran the store and grocery business for a long time until Kelly bought it. The blacksmith was alongside the store.
Reuben Watson's distinctive house with the orange tile roof can still be seen in Anglesea Street. A number of houses built by Watson stand today, sturdily built and of good timber. Those of the late Mrs William Mills, in High Street, and Graham Brooks were built by Watson. Daddy Watson married Elizabeth Joyce of Picton in 1877. Herbert Watson, a teacher, started what became the Renwick Museum, as he had a great interest in preserving early history, both Pakeha and Maori. He also devoted much energy to the Presbyterian Church and wrote the Renwick News for the Marlborough Express.
Following the death of Robert Watson, his business was bought by John Vorbach, who had worked for him as a blacksmith, and he later married Watson's widow. Vorbach had travelled to Australia and then on to New Zealand, and had lived in several places, including Havelock. He tried gold prospecting at Bartlett's Creek, Northbank, before
Howard Lakerman built the Wool Pack Hotel on the corner of Clive (now Brook) Street after the Sheepskin Tavern was destroyed by fire. He also added a store and a hall. Captain John Shaw, ex skipper on Sam Bowler's trading ship, gave up the sea in 1868 and leased the Marlborough Hotel in Blenheim for a year. Moving to Renwick, he built a two-storey hotel and a billiard saloon where the Woodbourne Tavern now stands. Later, a replacement hotel was built which burnt down in 1925. The Shaw family owned Shaw's Hotel until 1938. Charles Watson established the Globe Hotel, after the tragic fire which destroyed the Wool Pack and killed two people. Later the Renwick Arms Hotel was built.
Beyond the present Renwick butcher's shop were stables, which provided for the many teams of draught horses and the carriers' horses that had to be stabled. Mrs Gus Beauchamp has the sections there and lives in the old house previously owned by Evans
John Newman of Cowslip Valley, Omaka, and Sam Eves, his son-in-law, who had squatted on the property until Newman obtained legal rights to it, established a herd of dairy cows. They ran a flour mill on the banks of Omaka River and Eves also made baskets, which he sold in Renwicktown.
William Brydon, the first settler in Waihopai, arrived in Nelson in 1841 with Wakefield's party, and his wife and daughter joined him in 1842. They specialised in cheese and butter making. After Dr Renwick's death, Brydon bought Delta Dairy. His home was on the far side of the present West Coast Road at Comely Bank. Much of this land is now in vineyards. In 1854 the first race meeting was run in Brydon's paddock, and people came from great distances to attend. Mrs Goff was a daughter of William and Johanna Brydon. There was a horse-breaker named McIvors, and Mead, Jellyman and Flanders were waggoners.
Renwicktown was a Presbyterian settlement and the Reverend Thomas Dickson Nicholson, the first minister, had reached Otago on the "John Wycliffe" in 1848. The first preacher in Otago, he continued on to Wellington, where he also preached. Nicholson crossed to Nelson and established the first Presbyterian church there in 1853. He covered vast areas on foot, visiting his people and preaching. In 1854 Nicholson preached at Altimarloch in the Awatere. In 1857 he resigned from Nelson and came to live in Renwick, establishing the first church in the Wairau. Robert Thomson built the church and manse from pitsawn timber, carried on bullock wagons from the Big Bush (Grovetown). Rev Thomas Nicholson taught school until 1861, when a school was built with William Moore as the teacher. The Manse, known as The Tower, and the original church were built on the land donated by Dr Renwick.
At one time Presbyterian, Anglican and Roman Catholic churches were close to each other. Now the Roman Catholic church is in Clyde Street, and the Anglican church is in High Street. Rev Mr Butt was the first Anglican minister. Rev T.D. Nicholson was an advocate for separation from Nelson. It is interesting to note the distances Nicholson would walk or ride to take a service, or to preach. To Waitohi (Picton), to Hutcheson's
The Pioneer Church was later used mainly as a Sunday School, as a larger church was required, and was moved to the site opposite the School. J.B. Wemyss lived in the Tower and ran a wool-scour and, after his death, Grannie Wemyss lived there. She was the widow of a soldier in the Crimean War and received a war pension from the U.K. Government of two shillings and sixpence a week.
Some of us have memories of Christmas that are different to those most people usually have. One such that I remember refers to an era, now past, when heavy horses were used on farms.
One Christmas Eve, I think it was 1935, I made an inspection of our crop of oats to see if it would require cutting over the Christmas/Boxing Day period. Having decided it would stand over quite safely, I was looking forward to relaxing on Christmas Day, as work on a mixed farm in the Awatere kept us quite busy during the summer months. Shearing, haymaking and getting fat lambs away to freezing works were jobs done before the grain crops were ripe for harvesting.
On the morning of the 25th, I arose and fed the ten heavy horses, which we kept to do the agricultural work before tractors were improved sufficiently to replace the reliable Clydesdales. I then returned to the house for breakfast and the usual season's greetings. Soon after eight one of our neighbours, Bill, rang on the old manual party telephone. In those days the telephone exchange didn't open until 9am on Sundays and holidays. Bill asked if I could take a three-horse team and our binder over to their place and help his brother Jack cut a large paddock of oats. They were worried that if the northwest wind got up, it might shake the grain out of the crop.
As it is the practice, or tradition, for one farmer to help another at such times, this meant the end of my relaxing day. The horses, having been fed their morning feed of oaten chaff, were rather reluctant to come into the stable so that I could tie up three of them for the job. Grooming and harnessing took a while, and also turning out the rest of the horses to graze. Another necessary preparation was to check over the equipment for the binder, such as oil in the oilcan. I should explain that what a farmer calls a binder, the encyclopaedia calls a self-binding reaper and the manufacturer's catalogue calls a reaper and binder, to distinguish it from other varieties of reapers.
With not a cloud in the sky and little puffs of hot air from north-west, the prospect was that the mercury would steadily go up to over ninety degrees fahrenheit during the day. I arrived at the neighbour's at about 9.30, and Bill came out to greet me with a glass of Christmas cheer and a few instructions on how to reach the field of oats. By the time I had taken off the transport wheels and set the binder ready for cutting the crop, Bill had arrived with a welcome cup of tea and tomato sandwiches.
Jack had already opened up the paddock the evening before, so there was nothing to hold us up from going straight ahead with the reaping of the crop. We stopped only to put in some more twine, for tying the sheaves and to oil some of the fast moving parts on our machines. Bill was kept busy during the rest of the day, preparing fresh teams of three horses for each binder, as they were changed every two to three hours.
After Bill had his Christmas Dinner, some what more hurriedly than usual, he brought down a team and jack and I took the horses we had been driving to the steading, to water and feed them. We then had dinner, helped down with a glass of Christmas cheer. Picking up three horses from the stable, we then returned to the harvest field, with the sun still blazing down and heat reflecting off the straw. Bill had oiled and checked over both binders and cut a round or two of the crop while we were away.
The afternoon wore on, with Jack and I cutting round after round of the crop until a little after four o'clock, when two or three of the guests arrived with a small delivery full of children and a welcome cup of tea. In fact, a good deal more than one cup of tea, as we had lost a lot of moisture from our systems since lunch. By sunset we had just about finished the paddock, and were starting to get in one another's way. Jack pulled out and went to another field to open it out, while I finished off. The second field was still not quite ready for cutting, so we called it a day and tok the horses to the stable andsteading. Christmas Day closed with some more Christmas cheer and a large hot meal with another slice of Christmas cake.
The general store referred to in my 1990 article was the Motupiko Store, built in 1883 as a further extension to the business of A.J. Palmer's store at Foxhill. In November 1869 James Grove, in a letter to his father in England, said that there had been a 'rush' to the Wangapeka where gold reefs had been discovered. Two hundred men were already there and he intended to pack goods into the area. He had been using packhorses to take goods to the Buller goldfields. Some months later, in July 1870, he stated that a large wholesale store had been built at 'Fox Hill' for supplying the miners at the Wangapeka. Previously, gold diggers used to walk across the hills to Foxhill and carry great loads of flour and other essentials back to the goldfield.
The Motupiko store was started as a branch of A.J. Palmer's Foxhill business. The land where the store was situated was transferred from William Quinney to Albert John Palmer on April 5 1883, the purchase price being seven pound ten shillings. The late George Landon-Lane remembered when the store was opened and managed by Robert Thomson, the brother-in-law of A.J. Palmer. Moleskin trousers then cost ten shillings. First class watertight boots were twenty two shillings, while shop ones were one pound. A work shirt cost three shillings. The late Thomas Quinney remembered looking after the store one day while Thomson was away, and one of his customers was William Flanagan, who had walked across the hills from the Wangapeka goldfields to buy himself a pair of boots.
These country stores stocked most of the everyday requirements, including foodstuffs, clothing, footwear, and other goods right through to some essential farm items. When a branch store was opened at Tadmor, Robert Thomson used to travel over there each week, leaving the Motupiko store to be managed by his family. Later, this Tadmor General Store was taken over by his son, R.L. (Len) Thomson, and after Len's death it was run by his grandson, Gerald.
The Motupiko store building did suffer alterations over the years, but it was essentially the same as when built. A. Hodgson & Sons, storekeepers of Wakefield, bought the Motupiko business in 1914 and ran it for about forty years. After being purchased by E.H. Watts, the business traded under the name of Motupiko Stores Ltd. This store was completely destroyed by fire in 1968 and was not rebuilt.
In the days when bread was being baked in the house, flour was one of the essentials and was sold in 100 pound bags and 200 pounds sacks. Before the smaller bags of 25 pounds were introduced, it was necessary for storekeepers to weigh out smaller orders into brown paper packets. The store also sold the hops which were used in making the barm, or yeast, used in bread making.
When I was young, my mother made the bread for the household. No doubt she used a well-established method to make both the barm and good bread. She used a measure of some kind to take the required amount of flour out of the 200 pound sack for a particular sized batch of bread. I can remember when a weekly family batch of seven loaves was required. This was quite a usual amount to be baked in the brick oven, although it was big enough to hold a greater number.
A bakery was established at Tapawera early in the century, when the railway was being built and the workers required a food supply. At first there was no district delivery, but over the years delivery was provided and this service gradually extended to the neighbouring valleys. Deliveries were by horse drawn vehicles and later by motors. At one time a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, with delivery box sidecar, was in use for the purpose. All these businesses are now gone and the modern shops at Tapawera cater for the peoples' trade.
Robert McNee (1837-1921), my maternal Grandfather, played important roles in the early days of Hampden, now Murchison. He developed the general store and bakery on the corner of Fairfax and Waller Streets, and his efforts hastened the establishment of the school and the library. When he died I had only just turned eleven, but I had been aware of his intellectual interests and his fascination for scientific theories and inventions.
I can recollect various gadgets about the house and stables, and modern conservationists would have applauded his technique for sawing wood. Literally, he used one horse power. I am unable to say just when the mechanism was first installed in the back yard of the Fairfax Street home, but it seemed old when I was a small girl, during World War I.
If you had come to watch, you would have seen a horse walking round a circle about six or seven metres in diameter. The harness would have been the same as that used when hitching a horse to a plough but, instead of a plough, it was attached to a swingle at the distal end of a three metre boom. The proximal end of this boom was attached to the centre of what looked like an inverted iron saucer about a metre in diameter. A strap from the horse's bridle was fixed to a hook about half way along the boom, and this kept him on his circular path.
After watching the horse, your attention would probably be drawn to the elderly Scot, standing in the wood-shed using a circular saw. The efficiency of the saw would vary according to the rate at which the horse moved around his circle. There was no pollution, in fact the waste product from the horse increased the fertility of the excellent vegetable garden.
When I was first asked to supply information about this machine I thought that it was unique, but I have discovered that there were many such machines around New Zealand.
Mr Clem Randall has sent me a photograph of a restored one in the Golden Bay Machinery and Settlers' Museum at Rockville. It was worked by two horses and was manufactured by Booth-McDonald of Christchurch.
In the Maniototo they were used to provide power for chaff-cutting machines. The owner did not have to store huge quantities of chaff, but could cut it more or less as required.
Mr Godfrey Hall has collected three examples, which are displayed in the Rural History Museum at Ferrymead Historic Park in Christchurch. These were manufactured in England, and the one from his father's farm in Hororata has been beautifully restored.
I wonder if this type of economical power could be used today in places where there is no reticulated electric power, such as on Stewart Island or in the Chathams. I often feel saddened when I think of the clever inventions perfected, used and then discarded in the name of progress.
As the 1990 Journal went to press, the Marlborough Historical Society was celebrating the opening of its Archives and Museum complex at Brayshaw Park. The official opening was performed by then Governor General, Sir Paul Reeves, on 14 October 1990.
Financed by a bequest from Ralph Denton, with contributions from local authorities, the building provided more appropriate housing for the valuable collection of archives previously kept in the legendary tin shed in Howick Road. It also provided facilities for the storage and display of historical artefacts from the Marlborough region.
With increasing quantitites of archives being received as a result of local government reorganisation, and greatly increased public usage of the Archives, the new building quickly became inadequate.
In planning Stage 2 of the building, the Society departed from the original concept in order to provide a cost effective complex which could be easily expanded. A grant from the New Zealand Lotteries Board enabled construction to proceed, virtually doubling the available space. In addition to archive and museum storage and work areas, the extension provides space for the important textile collection, a fumigation chamber and increased public research facilities.
The continuing use of volunteers to run the complex is an enormous undertaking for the Society. It has made a commitment to seek the provision of long term finance to enable the appointment of permanent staff. The members of the Marlborough Historical Society are to be congratulated for their efforts in providing such an admirable home for their province's heritage.
When the war broke out in the North, the Auckland militia were called out. After the destruction of Kororaraka the Governor, Captain FitzRoy, ordered the militia to be called out in Wellington, New Plymouth and Nelson. A hundred men were to be balloted for. One hundred were chosen, and they were divided into two companies of fifty each. I was in No 2 Company. No 1 Company officers were: Captain, Dr Greenwood; Lieutenant, Dr Renwick; Ensign, Charles Thorpe of Motueka. No 2 Company: Captain, Dr Monro; Lieutenant, Dillon Bell; Ensign, A.L.G. Campbell; Adjutant, Major Newcome (late of the British Army); Quarter-master, Mr Seymour; Sergeant No 1 Company, Gibson; Sergeant No 2 Company, Plumbridge.
Having had four years' drill at College, I was made a Corporal. The drill ground was on the green from the Rev. Mr Reay's fence, where the Nelson Club and Newman's stables are, to Alton Street, so that we had ample ground for drilling. The reveille was at half-past five and the drill from 6 to 8 in the morning and 5 to 6 in the afternoon, so that the men could pursue their usual avocations during the day.
The uniform was a peaked cap, dark blue coat and white trousers. The arms were the old Brown Bess flintlocks, side arms, belt for bayonet, cross-belt over the left shoulder
An amusing incident took place one afternoon. Major Newcombe, who was very absent minded, gave us the order to fix bayonets and charge. We were facing the west, towards the Rev. Mr Reay's fence, and we thought we'd have a bit of fun. So we charged into the fence, smashing it. Mrs Reay came out with a supplejack, threatening to thrash a hundred men with fixed bayonets. We laughed, and told her the joke, and said we would repair her fence, and then she laughed. I think it cost us 2 pence each, but we put her up a brand new fence.
The officers had a mess-room at Mrs Taylor's, where my friend Mr Sutton now lives. The officers' pay was, Captain 10 shillings a day, Lieutenants 8 shillings a day, Ensigns 6 shillings a day. For our pay, every ten men got a 5 pound Government debenture. We called them "shin plasters", but the worst of it was nobody would cash them. The only person who would take them was a trader whose place of business was where Wilkie's stores now are, and then he would only give us 16 shillings in the pound, and take it out at that. He made 20 pounds every week besides his profits, because the debentures were worth their value at par. For payment, Customs and other duties were levied.
I bought a great many things, some of which I wanted and some I did not. On one occasion he had a large consignment of Belfast hams, so I thought I would take one. I carried it home over my shoulder. When Mr Bell saw me (I was his clerk), he said to me, "Sharp, what have you got there?" I said, "It's my week's pay, sir", and he said, "It's pretty heavy pay". It was a good ham, and we had it for breakfast several mornings. Shortly after this we were all disbanded, and I'm sorry to say that every one of my old comrades is dead, "Requiescat in pace," and I am the only survivor.
Volume 1: The History of the Wakamarina Goldfields
Published by Nikau Press, P O Box 602, Nelson
Printed by Stiles Printing Ltd
600 pages, illustrated. $90
Mike Johnston's deep interest in history has been revealed to members by the amount of time he has put into Nelson Historical Society affairs over the last 20 years, including 6 years as president. His book 'High Hopes', published in 1987, gave an interesting insight into the geology and mining history of the Nelson mineral belt. Over the last 5 years his research work has continued, documenting the search for gold in Marlborough and East Nelson through geological and mining reports and many decades of newspapers.
It is being published in two parts. This first volume gives a very detailed history of the Wakamarina goldfield, but it is not just a collection of facts. The author has developed it into a particularly readable account of life and endeavours in those days. He gives an extremely detailed account of the events leading up to the infamous Maungatapu murders and the aftermath, as the crime was committed to capture gold
While the initial finds in the Wakamarina River gravels were quite rich, one small river could not support the thousands of gold miners who flocked there from all over New Zealand and Australia in 1864, and the rush fell away almost as quickly as it started. The remaining miners toiled on, and a succession of ambitious schemes were developed to try and extract the rumoured rich gold from the depths of the Wakamarina gorges. All of these were unsuccessful and, as the author points out, high grades of gold are seldom encountered in gorges because the turbulent waters carry the gold further downstream. This was also the case in the Shotover River in Otago.
During the 1870s, attention turned towards the quartz reefs in the area. The Golden Bar proved to be the major one, but efforts to recover the gold and then the scheelite all failed, due to the low grades of both. The mine struggled on into the Depression and was revived briefly during the 1940s, to finally check the scheelite potential.
The large hard-bound book is very well presented and has a simple layout. It is well illustrated, having many particularly good photographs – both archival and modern, excellent maps and several good explanatory sketches of equipment. The volume is completed with a very useful glossary, particularly full references and index.
The present is always more interesting if the past has been properly recorded. We are all fortunate that such a good geologist and historian is prepared to put in the tremendous amount of time and work necessary to produce work of this quality. It is to be hoped that sales of this fine book are not retarded by the high price necessitated by the size of the volume.