The Charm of Wanganui
A River City Of Enterprise And Culture.

(By O. N. Gillespie.)

“The beauty which old Greece or Rome sung, painted, wrought, lies close at home.”

The finest flowers of our New Zealand national growth are our lovely provincial towns, and Wanganui is the water lily in this garland of civic blooms.

The river winds down from a faraway wonderland of bush beauty, and as it flows past warehouse and home, park and busy wharf, it becomes the formative element in the distinctive qualities of the city. Wanganui, like so many of our urban dwelling places, is provided with countless prospect points which furnish views of bewildering richness and variety; but here, in every case, the broad silver ribbon of the river fills the eye, and dominates the picture. It also, by the way, presents the municipal administration with its most awkward problems. The city clusters on both sides of the river, gradually thinning out both lengthwise and laterally, with the result that within the long lengths of its boundaries, the population of Wellington could be comfortably housed. The river compensates for all of this, however, by its investiture of romantic and decorative values. From the sylvan beauty of the willow-planted banks as it enters Aramoho, to the wide reaches before Castlecliff, it is never anything less than picturesque. As a waterway of historic memories, it has left a legacy of delightful names. On its banks London is only four miles from Jerusalem, and I visited the craftsmen at work on the Maori carvings for the church at a place with a name as long as a tributary, but full of music—Putiki - wharanuia Tamatea - Pokai-whenua.

I took a tram ride from Castlecliff to Aramoho, a trip which measures up to most terminus to terminus journeys possible in Wellington or Auckland. As I have often said, this is one of the best methods for a quick survey of the “make-up” of a city. Castlecliff is possibly one of the best achievements of Wanganui folk. The rough sandhills, dotted with utilitarian “baches” have been replaced with a glorious and spacious level green, waterfront park, smart streets of good houses, and all the facilities of a modern seaside resort. Castlecliff is on its way to be the Caroline Bay of the North Island west coast. The joy of the tram-ride is the ever-changing spectacle it offered. Passing the handsome suburb of Gonville, the imposing grandstand of the racecourse shows up, and there is a peep of its teahouse on pretty ornamental waters.

(Rly. Publicity photo.)
The fine Technical School Hostel at Wanganui.

The river is just glimpsed before the substantial business buildings starten to thicken round the route, but on the final run to Aramoho, the river is skirted nearly all the way. Here I found a place which might be best described as a pleasuance. Huge English trees, a wide spread of velvet turf, a sparkling swimming pool give Aramoho Park the air of restful-ness of an old English pleasure ground. This is the principal camping ground for motorists; it is electrically lit at night, and there is an extraordinary range of amenities, including gas, shower baths, cooking equipment, and so on endlessly. But an individual touch is given by the ingenious use made of tram car bodies. These have been fitted with bunks, kitchenettes, furnished comfortably, and some thoughtfully artistic person had them painted a quiet green. A honeymoon couple permitted me to look through, and they already had the air of permanent inhabitants. A big Wanganui store, Kernohans Ltd., has instituted a “travelling shop,” a most complex and complete miniature warehouse on wheels. These pay regular calls to all camping grounds and a telephone call will bring a special trip.

Here at Aramoho, I found some explanation of the riot of colour in Wanganui gardens. Tucked away within arms-length of many great industrial undertakings are the extensive page 11

(Rly. Publicity photo.)
One of the many educational institutions of Wanganui—the Aramoho Primary School.

nurseries of Benefield and Sons, where every November and December 25,000 roses can be seen in bloom. Established by Mr. Benefield, Senior, over half a century ago, this expertly administered plant kindergarten has been providing garden lovers with “green growing things” from the Bluff to Kaitaia. The founder retired 27 years ago, and is still hale and hearty. One of these days New Zealand will be a world leader in the export of plants, for its largesse of mild airs, rich soil, sunny skies and tender rains brings the same miracle of improvement in the realm of horticulture as in the domain of the thoroughbred. I mention, too, in this regard, that I suspect that Chief Ruler, Limond and Absurd have made Wanganui known to just as many people as the Drop Scene.

The climate needs no commendation in these pages. It is midway between Auckland and Wellington, and the swift tree growth, the good sun-tan already visible on the bathers, the universal provision for open-air enjoyment, all comprise evidence that the district has a good weather certificate.

For the tourist and holiday maker, Wanganui has a specially attractive menu. The river naturally takes first place both for sight-seeing excursions, and for aquatic sports, and I must not overlook the well known championship rowing course. Naturally, with a topography ranging from river flat to sandhills, from easy gully to high hill, perfect golf courses are in plenty, and the municipal links have a set of charges that are in the microscopic scale.

Scenic drives of varied and breath-taking beauty are numerous, and I instance the Waipuka glen where the tall cliff sides are patterned with giant tree ferns like a titanic mural fresco.

The hotels are famous throughout the Dominion and outrank many of our main capitals. There is a wide range of choice and tariff, and a well earned reputation for good service which is common to all. I found the lounge of the Provincial Hotel just as full of cheery “bright young things” and their elders as any metropolitan hostelry, and host Larsen's opinion is that the social life of Wanganui is as joyous as any in his experience.

The beauty spots of the city are in profusion. Three minutes from the Post Office are the Moutoa Gardens, containing monuments of aesthetic and historic charm. Virginia Lake is on the tree-feathered St. John's Hill, a clear sheet of ornamental waters surrounded by exquisite gardens. Durie Hill is a possession personal to Wanganui in a real sense. This immense bluff overlooks the town, and is reached by an electric lift as well as by paved winding roads. From its pretty hilltop park can be seen the roof of the North Island with Ruapehu on the one hand and Egmont on the other. This residential suburb is growing apace, and here is, of course, the lofty shell rock Memorial Tower. My own choice of these attractions, however, is the magnificent Esplanade Walk which “goes in beauty” from the town bridge to the Dublin Street bridge. By the way, if a citizen suggests a run up Roberts’ Avenue you will get a revelation of Wanganui's essential qualities. Roberts’ Avenue soon stops being a street and becomes a fascinating mountain road from whose top curve the breakers on Castlecliff beach can be seen, the enormous level airport area, and in between a panorama of matchless beauty.

(Rly. Publicity photo.)
A view of the Motor Camping Ground at Aramoho, Wanganui.

Victoria Avenue, the principal street, retains an individuality born of the time when it first ran between the Rutland and York stockades. The Pukenamu slopes, once fort-crowned, are now adorned with splendid public buildings, and the tree-lined “Avenue” breaks into a bustling, motor packed, well-thronged street of modern business premises. In common with the rest of our provincial capitals, Wanganui has a type of emporium which would set the standard in cities of a quarter of a million souls in older lands. Its deep drainage, paved streets, electric lighting, and the rest of the range of startling amenities which we treat as customary, are not in any sense peculiar to the river city, nor, of course, is the idea that Wanganui had the exclusive rights of the depression. I have found this latter notion in many other places, and have marvelled at the enthusiasm with which many “oldest inhabitants” furnished reasons why their town was specially

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