NZ Memories Issues 138

APPET I SER

The Onehunga Fencibles Paid passage for soldiers and their families plus the provision of a two-roomed cottage on a quarter-acre of land upon arrival in Auckland proved an irresistible opportunity for many who were struggling to make ends meet in the United Kingdom. This promise was particularly enticing to the Irish destitute subsequent to the Great Potato Famine of 1845-49.

Turn to page 38 for Instant Village: The Onehunga Fencibles, a first-rate article by Claire Duncan.

An artist’s impression of a Royal New Zealand Fencible by Rob Freeman.

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E D I TORIAL

Dear Readers, Out leading story by Elizabeth Sunckell on the Nelson pie cart prompted me to reflect on food trends during my lifetime. The casual approach to dining out in today’s society was non-existent, certainly in my childhood experience. Friday night fish and chips eaten in the car out of newspaper was an indulgence. And I don’t remember this treat being called a “take-away” − that was something done at school during arithmetic lessons. Department stores offered food: teas at Milne and Choyce served on elaborate silver tiered cake stands, or a steaming steak and kidney pud at George Courts. The Farmers was always in a league of its own with the children’s rooftop playground adjacent to the restaurant.

Ethnic food was scarce; a curry dish in the 1960s Edmonds cookery book lists apple, coconut and raisins as ingredients, while another rather unusual recipe suggests preparing “mock chicken” made from butter, onion, tomato, herbs and an egg. Sixty years on, the abundance of dining options and styles is astounding, and the new food bag fad opens a whole new realm of cooking. What next?

The Royal New Zealand Fencible Corps arrived in Auckland from the United Kingdom between 1847 and 1852, their passages and settlement costs paid for by the New Zealand government. In a climate of unrest, these retired soldiers were to act as a military reserve. Claire Duncan gives a comprehensive account of the Onehunga settlement in her excellent article and I am grateful to the Onehunga Fencible & Historical Society − who meets monthly at the blockhouse in Jellicoe Park − for their assistance.

David Relph is welcomed back with an account of his great grandfather, William Parker, who travelled with his family aboard the Indian Queen in 1856 and settled at Three Mile Bush, but only after negotiating 60 kilometres of rough track over the Rimutakas… and with a new baby. Jumping a century, Alison Wickham reflects on family life in the mid-twentieth century. Set in Palmerston North, descriptions such as “Saturday mornings rang with the buzz of concrete mixers, hammers and hand-operated lawn mowers” and “milk was delivered daily to the letterbox in the early hours of the morning” could equally have been applied to any New Zealand region.

Of particular note is the stunning cover of Dunedin’s Rattray Street cable car photographed by Graham Stewart in 1951.

Those were the days!

Warm wishes to all my readers,

Wendy Rhodes, Editor

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C ON T EN TS

Editor Wendy Rhodes Graphic Design Icon Design Administration David Rhodes Distributed by Ovato Subscriptions & Enquiries Phone tollfree: 0800 696 366 Mail: Freepost 91641, PO Box 17288, Green Lane, Auckland 1546 email: admin@memories.co.nz www.memories.co.nz Annual Subscription $79 for six issues (Price includes postage within NZ) For overseas postage: Add $59.00 for Australia Add $89.00 for Rest of the World Contributors Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Bella Street Pumphouse Society Central Hawke’s Bay Settlers Museum Central Stories Museum & Art Gallery Chatto Creek Tavern Clark, Wendy Couch, Cliff Cunningham Family de Bonnaire, John Duncan, Claire Freeman, Rob Hill, David History House, Greymouth Hocken Library, Uare Taoka o Kakena University of Otago Hunter, Graham Kinkead, Merle Mihaljevich, George Muir, Iain Norsewood Pioneer Museum Onehunga Fencible Society Relph, David Sir George Grey Special Collections, Auckland City Libraries.

Stewart, Graham Sunckell, Elizabeth The Prow Wickham, Alison Worsnop, Don

Contents The Nelson Pie Cart

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Elizabeth Sunckell has fond memories of her father’s business.

The Bella Street Pumphouse

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Gold was a major industry in early Thames

Early Carterton Settlers: William and Hannah Parker 12 David Relph’s great grandparents arrived in Wellington in 1856.

From the Regions: Otago

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Suburban Life in Palmerston North

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First Ascents Aoraki / Mt Cook

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Centrefold: AARD Yards in Greymouth

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Instant Village: The Onehunga Fencibles

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Dancing the Gavotte

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Aliens in the North

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The Steadfast Singer

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From the Regions: Hawke’s Bay

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Can You Help?

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Alison Wickham remembers her 1950s childhood.

Celebrating our highest peak. Illustrated by Rob Freeman.

Claire Duncan explores the lives of these early soldiers.

A 1949 Weekly News copy prompts Wendy Clark’s story.

George Mihaljevich explores Dalmatian settlement.

Who learnt to sew on a treadle Singer sewing machine?

Mailbox

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Index and Genealogy List

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Editor’s Choice : An Axe to Grind

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Contributed by Norsewood Pioneer Museum

Opinions: Expressed by contributors are not necessarily those of New Zealand Memories.

Accuracy: While every effort has been made to present accurate information, the publishers take no responsibility for errors or omissions.

Copyright: All material as presented in New Zealand Memories is copyright to the publishers or the individual contributors as credited.

Cover image: A cable car in Rattray Street, Dunedin in October 1951.

(Refer to page 62) Courtesy: Graham Stewart

ISSN 1173-4159 June / July 2019

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STORY

The Nelson Pie Cart Elizabeth Sunckell

I

n about 1926 or 1927 our father S. J. (Jim) Samuels finished his sixth form year at Ashburton High School and went to work at Clark’s nurseries in Ashburton. He finished his apprenticeship but, as so often happened in those days, there was no position for journeymen. It was, of course, cheaper to pay another apprentice.

It was coming up to the depression times of the early thirties, when jobs were almost non-existent.

Jim packed his worldly possessions, including a tent, bedroll and a billy for cooking onto his bicycle and rode to Nelson, heading for the apple orchards, hop, tobacco and raspberry gardens looking for seasonal work. After some time at various jobs and still living in his tent, he came to realise that no matter how little money they had, people still had to eat.

About 1935 Jim partnered with his father Charles and together they opened a pie cart. To look at, it was rather like a large, box-shaped caravan. Four people could sit at a counter at one end. The rest stood at a long counter along one side, standing on the street footpath and protected by a canvas awning.

In the early days our aunt, Maud Clayton, and Grandfather helped with the cooking. After our parents were married in 1937, our mother took over this work.

By the time of my memory, my mother’s day started at breakfast time by ringing Cotton’s Butchery to order the mince and suet for the day. Then she would ring Nelson Fisheries to order the fish, snapper – I don’t ever remember it not being available.

The meat was delivered promptly from just around the block and the mince put on to cook. Just mince, salt and water – not even onions. The dried peas would be put on to soak with a handful of soda. People often asked how the peas were so much nicer than most others, but the secret of the baking soda was never divulged. (The flavour and texture of the peas was never to my liking.) The beetroot, too, was put on to cook. There was a row of gas rings at floor level along one wall, spaced far enough apart for the large enamel boilers to fit.

A bucket of potatoes at a time would be tipped into the potato peeler, which was lined with a coarse abrasive surface. The potatoes spun around with a continuous stream of water. When deemed ready they

were spilled out into a large sink, to have the eyes removed. Some were put on to cook and the others would stay in a bucket of water beside the chipper next to the deep frying vat.

When cooked, the mince was thickened and poured into large shallow bowls then put into the fridge to cool quickly.

The pastry was made by hand-mixing water into freshly minced suet and then the flour and salt mixed in. It was folded and rolled a number of times through a roller reminiscent of an old laundry mangle.

Twenty pie tins were set in a wooden frame and a large sheet of pastry unrolled over them. The pastry was punched into each tin with a wad of dough. A large baking spoon of mince was spooned into each pie case, another sheet of pastry was then unrolled over the top. A couple of runs over the top with the rolling pin neatly trimmed each pie. The excess pastry was removed, a hole jabbed in the top of each pie with a knife; a brush over with a mixture of milk and egg powder and onto the baking tray and into the oven.

Ten or twelve dozen on an ordinary day, and up to twenty-four dozen for a public holiday, New Year’s Eve, or at the time of Seddon Shield rugby matches or the like.

When I was very young, the pies would be loaded into the back of our model-A van and taken to Doug Holyman’s bakery to be cooked in the huge oven.

The trays were slid into the oven on wooden paddles with very long handles. Holyman’s Bakery was behind Olsen’s Cake Shop in Nelson’s Bridge Street. His own cake shop was in Hardy Street.

In the mid-1940s Dad built a new much bigger cook shop and installed an electric oven that would cook four trays at a time. One evening in the late 1980s my mother-in-law was listening to ‘talk back’ radio about meat pies when she heard John Blumsky say that Jim Samuels’ pies were the best he had eaten. I must say I agree.

Mum’s day continued by cooking baskets of chips and then making batter for the fish that had now been delivered.

Oysters, in season, were sourced from Smith’s Fish Shop in North Beach and collected from Newman’s Bus Depot about 6.30p.m. Some were cooked straight away ready for that night and the rest cooked next

Jim Samuels and his father Charles by the wooden piecart.

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morning. Sausages came by air from Huttons in Wellington and were collected from Cock and Co. about mid-afternoon. Freemans Bakery delivered daily as did the milk company. The milk came in cans. A truck came each day to collect the food scraps, to be fed to the pigs at Barnett’s farm next to the aerodrome.

Dad would go to Park Davis auctions and vegetable market for the beetroot and potatoes, except in the years when potatoes were scarce and expensive. Then he would use his Canterbury connections to get a supply. Sometimes sacks would disappear in transit.

The menu, as I remember it from the mid1940s, was “pea, pie and pud” for one shilling, a pie for 4d. One piece of fish with chips was 6d.

Also sold were bacon, sausages and eggs. In season were oysters, and whitebait patties the size of a plate.

Mashed potatoes, cooked dried peas, beetroot and bread and butter were served with most orders.

By the late 1940s raw coffee beans were brought by the sack and roasted, regularly, on trays in the oven.

They were ground daily and tipped into a clean muslin bag to be dangled in a large urn of milk and kept hot all night.

At four o’clock each afternoon Dad would scrub the counters, cooking surfaces and floor. Salts, peppers and sugar bowls would be filled and the soft drink rack replenished. The pie cart would be plugged into the point at home and the bread sliced into ‘ladies’ afternoon tea’ slices, buttered, folded and neatly stacked into a large square biscuit tin, to keep fresh.

Some of the food was loaded and set to re-warm. The beetroot, now cool, was skinned, sliced and marinated.

The sausages, which had just arrived from Wellington, were put on to boil, ready to be quickly reheated when ordered.

Family mealtime was at 5 p.m. Then Dad would load up the rest of the food and tow it to the piecart stand outside the Bank of New South Wales in Trafalgar Street, ready to open as the town clock chimed six o’clock. Dad would get home between 1.30 - 2.00 a.m., wash all the boilers and go to bed until lunchtime. His afternoons would be taken up with visits to the egg floor, bank, warehouses and once

a week, the library.

We children were fairly well shielded from the unpleasantries of life but we did overhear Mum and Dad’s conversations about families who lived on Trafalgar Street premises (where the cart was parked), wanting him shifted somewhere else because of the noise generated by patrons.

Sometimes patrons ended up in court after some sort of fracas and magistrates were not always polite about such places and the ‘riff-raff’ they attracted.

This really upset my father because many of his regular customers were salt of the earth businessmen who would not have known what to do about a ‘fisticuffs’ if they found themselves in the middle of one.

Later in the ’40s Roy Chapman, coach-builder, was commissioned to build a new ‘Coffee Stall Deluxe’.

It was built to the same style as the old one, but larger, more streamlined and clad in aluminium. It had aircraft tyres to carry the weight, a double deep fryer, stove, dishwasher, sink, zip water heater, bread slicer, lots of cupboards and the splendid National cash register. My father got into trouble with the neighbours, as he used the buffer on his electric drill to polish the entire surface of aluminium. It interfered with their radio reception.

The first night the new coffee stall went into the curbside stand, it was escorted in a parade with members of the Nelson Pipe Band. All meals were on the house. Dad was a long time member of the St John’s Ambulance Brigade and had St John donation boxes on the counter. He went through more food than ever before and was most disappointed at the pittance that went into the boxes. Apart from that, the evening was a great success.

By the late 1950s Dad was able to indulge in his real love and develop a very successful rose nursery.

The pie cart was sold. My mother always said his greatest regret was that he no longer knew all the gossip.

Dad had always known everything that went on in town. Policemen and newspaper reporters were among his regular patrons, gathering and disseminating the latest goings on. n

All images supplied by the author, Elizabeth Sunckell.

This article was supplied by The Prow with permission of the author.

Website: theprow.org.nz/yourstory/samuels-pie-cart

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STORY

“The menu, as I remember it from the mid-1940s, was ‘pea, pie and pud’ for one shilling...”

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STORY

Suburban Life in Palmerston North Alison Wickham

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40 Milton Street, Palmerston North, with the Hillman Californian family car in 1954.

Left: Alison in one of granny’s dresses in 1957.

he year was 1952. On a new unsealed street, on a bare plot of land, at the outskirts of a rapidly growing New Zealand North Island town, sat a new little house. This stucco and tile house was where my formative years began. My parents and I moved in when I was 17 months old. Housing was in short supply after World War Two; we were lucky to have a house and garden that we owned.

My father’s brother was the carpenter who built the house. It met the requirements of a State Advances Housing Loan at 1,000 square feet in size; it cost £2,000 and was beautifully crafted. The heart Rimu doors and joinery were still an attractive feature when I visited the house sixty years later. As well as the kitchen and small dining area, it had two bedrooms, a front room (lounge), and bathroom with bath and pedestal hand basin and adjoining small room for the flush toilet. The laundry was opposite the back door, on the porch. Four or five steps led from the porch down to a spacious garden that sloped away to the farmer’s fence and fields beyond. Later, large vegetable gardens at the back, lawns, hedges and flower beds at the front completed the picture.

In the early 1950s my father, like most of our neighbours, spent weekends and evenings developing the section. Saturday mornings rang with the buzz of concrete mixers, hammers and hand operated lawn mowers. Car sheds, paths, drives and fences were constructed. Lawns and gardens set out and maintained.

Every man in our street had his own housewife. She gave birth to and reared babies, knitted and sewed clothes for them and herself, washed and ironed great loads of laundry, cooked meals and baked, and kept an immaculately clean house. Few of these women spent many hours away from the family home. A walk to the local shops or weekly bus trip into the centre of town was the most they had time and money for. When they did go to town, it was dressed in best clothes, hat and gloves. Visits to neighbour’s homes were rare and women addressed each other formally − such as ‘Mrs Brown’ or ‘Mrs Smith’. On letters and official documents women were addressed as ‘Mrs John Brown’ or ‘Mrs Jim Smith’, their identity entirely subsumed by that of their husband.

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AARD Yards in Greymouth

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A line up of AARD motorcars outside the Hotel Dominion on the corner of Mackay Street and Tainui Street, Greymouth in 1923. (The vehicles later became part of the Newman Bros. fleet.) The banner strung across the balcony reads “HAWKES BAY versus COAST� but no indication of the nature of the match.

A challenge for readers; what was the competition and who were the victors?

Courtesy: History House, Greymouth

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Dancing the Gavotte Wendy Clark

“A

hh, the gavotte,” said Ray Egginton. “Your mother and I nearly broke up over the gavotte.” We were looking at a copy of the Weekly News, 25 May 1949, which I had found in my late mother’s dresser. She had stored the article carefully, a half page photo spread on the Victoria League’s annual Empire Ball held in the Auckland Town Hall.

“We hadn’t been going out long,” he said.

“It must have meant something, for her to have kept this all these years.”

“Oh yes. She was determined we were going to dance the gavotte. And that meant lessons. Not just one night of pain but pain over a prolonged period!”

DANCING OF THE GAVOTTE WITNESSED BY VICE-REGAL GUESTS, read the headline.

Wigs, patches and powdered hair, period gowns, coloured lapels, jabots and cuffs contributed to the old world atmosphere. Sixty four young people took part in the gavotte, which replaced the minuet for the first time since 1925.

The Young Contingent, Victoria League set. Ray Egginton and Betty Keene are at far right.

Betty Keene (small portrait).

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STORY

“Poor Bet,” said my father, pointing to his scowling face in one of the photographs. “I wasn’t very keen at getting dressed up in all that regalia. Bibs, floppy cuffs, powder all through my hair.”

The Gavotte, I learned from Mr Google, is a lively peasants’ kissing dance that originated in rural France and became fashionable in the courts of France and England during the seventeenth and eighteenth century. It is danced as a round with skipping steps.

“That’s right, skipping!” Ray said.

The traditional dance has a bonus, however. After the group has danced for a while the lead couple moves to the middle of the circle where, apparently, they finish the round with a kiss. The man is then meant to kiss each of the ladies in the set while his partner does the same with the men.

“Is that what you did?”

“If only!” he grinned. “Things came to a head the night I carried on reading the newspaper after the dancing teacher called on us to take our partners. She asked if I was going to grace them with my presence. After the lesson I decided to throw in the towel. Bet’s friends rang up, trying to talk me into reconsidering. I began to reconsider whether we should even be going out together.”

“What changed your mind?”

“It dawned on me,” he laughed, “ if it makes her happy, what the heck!” n

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E D I TOR’ S

CHOICE

An Axe to Grind The date of these two photographs, supplied by Norsewood Pioneer Museum, is estimated between the 1880s and 1890s. No information on the men in their bush surroundings is recorded, other than the name of a Dannevirke photographer, Mr W.G. Billows of Vandyke Studios. Norwegian settlers arrived in Norsewood in the late nineteenth century and this group have a distinct Scandinavian appearance.

If any readers can help with identification of the woodsmen, please contact New Zealand Memories and we will pass the information on to the Museum located in Coronation Street, Norsewood (open daily 8:30am to 4:30pm).

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