NZ Memories - Issue 139

APPET I SER

No Red Tape A new home for a new bride.

Turn to page 52 for a story submitted

by The Albertland & Districts Museum.

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E D I TORIAL

Dear Readers, In The Great Stink and Other Reasons, John Stackhouse adds a strong incentive for hopeful emigrants to escape the overcrowded city of London in the mid nineteenth century, the summer of 1858 being one of the hottest recorded in Britain. New Zealand, depicted as a bounteous land of opportunity, would have seemed the answer to many prayers.

The reality was a daunting sea voyage and the likelihood of shaping a new life through backbreaking toil. And the prospect of ever returning ‘home’ was virtually non-existent.

Not a decision for the faint-hearted.

Moving forward a century, Mervyn Dykes remembers his favourite cowboy at the Saturday Matinee, while Leonie Couper danced the night away at the Martinborough Young Farmers Debutante Ball described as ‘the stellar event of the season’.

Ron Galloway’s contribution is intriguing. Armed with much research and a sketchy farm ledger entry, Ron, along with his wife, traced the route of his grandfather’s 1934 flight with Sir Charles Kingsford-Smith while on a recent road trip.

The highlight, Ron remarks, was meeting the helpful people along the way. It seems that the New Zealand psyche of friendliness and down-to-earth practicality goes back a long way. During early settlement a kindness never forgotten is recorded in our leading article; new immigrant Mary was given ‘a plate of delicious pancakes and a jug of the nicest tea’ while descending the steep Lyttelton bridle path with a baby in her arms. Long may this good-natured attitude continue.

For a sample of the more unusual, the fluorescent tube glasshouse story - an account of recycling at its most imaginative – is hard to beat. Or, if a heart-warming animal tale is more to your taste, ‘Jack the Wonder Dog’ will put a smile on your face.

This winter has been particularly mild in Auckland and our roses are starting to bud before we’ve had a chance to get out with the pruning shears. As I write this we welcome a new addition to our family, baby Edie June. It’s far easier being a grandparent!

Warm wishes,

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 Albertland & District Museum Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellingto, NZ Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections Beban, Paddy Campbell, Don Carrick, Chanelle Cole, H Collins, Brian Couper, Leonie Dingwall, Paul Dykes, Mervyn Dunn, Maye Galloway, Ron History House Museum, Greymouth James, Ray Johnston, Lyn Keppel, Jo King, Trevor Lealand, Geoff Mangere Historical Society Mathers Family Meadows, Gavin Messenger, Derek Mokoia School Moor, Christopher Newby, Heather North Shore Research Centre Orwin, Elspeth Payne, Val Pickmere, Alan Puke Ariki, New Plymouth Richardson, Neil Smith, Norma Stackhouse, John Sutton, Noeleen Tiller, Eileen Ward, Claire West Auckland Historical Society West Auckland Research Centre West Coast Recollections Wood, Bev 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.

Contents The Great Stink and Other Reasons

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London’s heat stimulated emigration. John Stackhouse explains.

The Short Long Train Ride

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The King of the Cowboys

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Four Women of Rangitoto

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From the Regions: West Coast

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Grandma’s Rag Rug

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“Family Secrets: The Personal Diary as History”

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Centrefold: The Trackless Tram

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Wellington’s Trolley Buses

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The Debutante Ball

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Don Campbell’s trip from Auckland to Whangarei.

Mervyn Dykes remembers Hopalong Cassiday at the Saturday Matinee.

Elspeth Orwin, Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections.

Paul Dingwall shares his grandmother’s story.

A slice of social history from Geoff Lealand.

Christopher Moor explores the history of this commuter transport.

Leonie Couper attended the 1959 Young Farmers’ Club event.

My Grandfather’s Flight with Sir Charles Kingsford-Smith

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From the Regions: Auckland

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A House of Treasured Possessions

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Can You Help?

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Ron Galloway retraces a nostalgic trip.

Whare Kahurangi: 100 years of collecting at Taranaki.

The Silver Plated Cup.

Mailbox

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Index and Genealogy List

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Editor’s Choice : The Kruger’s Cage

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An 1899 photograph contributed by Leonie Couper.

Cover image: Speedway riders c.1929 (from left): Alf Mattson, Bill Allen and Alf Way. Refer to page 57 of the Auckland regional section.

Courtesy: H. Cole

ISSN 1173-4159 August/ September 2019

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STO RY

The Great Stink and Other Reasons John Stackhouse

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STORY

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t may have been events in London that finally tipped the balance in favour of the huge step of emigration to New Zealand. The summer of June, July and August 1858 in London led to large tracts of the city becoming almost unliveable. The summer was one of the hottest in memory with temperatures in the shade 34-36 degrees Celsius and in the sun up to 48 degrees. The flies were of plague proportions, disease spread rapidly and the stench of human waste and effluent, rotting rubbish and air pollution combined to create an infamous London phenomenon of the time: The Great Stink. With windows closed and curtains soaked in lime chloride the stench still permeated every building near the Thames, beginning in June. The stench was so bad it infiltrated the Houses of Parliament which was moved out temporarily until the issue of the smell could be remedied. In these conditions life for Mary, Isaac and their children in Bow would have been unbearable. The letters received from family in New Zealand describing the land, living, fresh air and opportunities must have seemed to them to describe a place of dreams.

Mary and Isaac Dellow decided enough was enough, opportunity lay on the opposite side of the globe. But what were the reasons for them to reach such a momentous decision, to uproot their family of five children, one of them a baby, from inner city London and risk all on a voyage to New Zealand? There were a few clues as to why in our carefully collected family archives, but surely there is more detail to the story. This is a glimpse of their adventurous journey across the world to the Antipodes, New Zealand, in the year 1859.

Charles Dickens in Oliver Twist wrote of what Oliver saw when first entering London, guided through the chaos by ‘The Artful Dodger’, Jack Dawkins. His description is not just based on the author’s imagination, it is a fairly accurate account from Dickens’ own observations of what some of the worst areas of London were like in the mid nineteenth century: “A dirtier more wretched place he had never seen. The street was very narrow and muddy, and the air was impregnated with filthy odours. There were a good many small shops but the only stock in trade appeared to be heaps of children, who even at that time of night, were crawling in and out at the door, or screaming from inside. The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the general blight of the place, were the public houses… Covered ways and yards, which here and there diverged from the main streets, disclosed little knots of houses, where drunken men and women were positively wallowing in filth; and from several of the doorways great ill-looking fellows were cautiously emerging, bound, to all appearance, on no very well-disposed or harmless errands.”

This is a graphic glimpse of what many Londoners, including my great, great grandparents, wanted to escape.

This is a London that had grown immensely, becoming a city of over two million by 1850. As the population grew the quality of life withered. The air became toxic with the smoke of industry and home fires. The River Thames became a foetid, open sewer, its waters noxious. ‘Drinking water’ from communal water pumps often ran brown or black with contamination and swarms of flies plagued rich and poor alike through the warmer months. Lung diseases and tuberculosis, often termed ‘consumption’, were the biggest killers, but typhus and cholera also claimed many victims. Large areas of inner London became slum tenements, with large families living in one or two rooms.

The migration of many thousands of Irish to London as the potato famine swept the land, put huge pressure on the city. Additional immigration from Europe and internal migration from country to city swelled London’s population even further. Crime was rife as many were reduced to stealing to live. One third of Londoners lived in poverty and life expectancy in the city was around 37 years. Or should it be, that for many, it was an ‘existence expectancy’ of 37 years. For those living in what was in the 1880s to be termed the ‘East End’ around Whitechapel and bordering areas such as Bow, the living conditions were particularly poor.

In this wallowing mass of humanity lived Mary (nee Gapes) and Isaac Dellow in Stratford, Bow. They had married on 6 June 1847 in the Parish Church of St Mary. They had, by 1859, ‘gone forth and multiplied’ with Portrayal of the Thames River of the time: Old Father Thames is seen as a slightly amusing unkempt old father in this graphic but more explicit in its accompanying poem, which begins: Filthy river, filthy river, Foul from London to the Nore, What art though but one vast gutter… Wood engraving for ‘Punch Magazine’, vol. XV, July-December 1848.

Leaving Gravesend, a contemporary engraved print of the time. The heavily populated London evident in the background appears in stark contrast to the apparent emptiness of their new home in New Zealand. It is ironic that emigrants, sailing partly to escape the terrible living conditions, left via the very river that created The Great Stink.

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STO RY

By 1858 the Thames is conveyed as transporting the Silent Highway-Man, a portrayal of the grim reaper. There is no humour in this cartoon which was meant to shock and galvanise change. Knowledge of medicine and health had advanced and the vital link between clean water and health was well known. The Great Stink led to critical change.

children Ann (11), Mary (10), John (8), Charlotte (4) and James (2). The living conditions in Bow were not as bad as nearby areas, but it was only three miles from Whitechapel, one of the worst areas in London. Bow was not a desirable London address and Isaac, as a distillery worker, struggled to keep his family clothed and fed on 18 shillings a week. Life was a challenge with very few bright spots. The Great Stink of 1858, the difficulty in supporting a family on a labourer’s pay, existing not living day to day in London, the opportunities and family in New Zealand combined to prompt Mary and Isaac into deciding that ‘enough was enough’!

Mary had farewelled her favourite sister Hannah (Mrs Thomas Prosser) and her brother William to New Zealand already and mail home from them was continually encouraging Mary and Isaac to follow suit. The letters conveyed a sense of opportunity, hope and a life worth living. Hannah and William wrote of a contact for Mary and Isaac in the new settlement of Christchurch, Canterbury, a man called Mr Philpott. Mr Philpott had been one of the settlers in the ‘First Four Ships’ that arrived in Lyttelton Harbour, December and January 1850, to establish Christchurch. These letters were enticing in their content and led to Mary and Isaac discussing the possibilities.

At this time Mary’s older brother by less than two years, James, and his wife Jane with six children also opted to sail for New Zealand with other members of the extended Gapes family. In 1876 James Gapes went on to become the first mayor of Christchurch elected by voters, an opportunity he would never have had available if he had stayed in London. Mary and Isaac no doubt gained confidence in their decision to travel to the other side of the world knowing that they were to be accompanied by extended family.

Over the year between September 1858 and August 1859 Mary and Isaac scrimped and saved every penny they could to fund their assisted passage to New Zealand and also accumulate some reserves to take with them.

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STORY

The arrival of their latest child, son William, in early 1859 now meant they had the challenge of travelling with six children. The enticing New Zealand Company immigrant posters painted a picture of a land of opportunity, the letters from Gapes family members in New Zealand were encouraging, but when opportunities like this arose Mary and Isaac knew they needed both the attitude and the resource to be able to grasp them.

So it was that Friday 2 September 1859 found Mary, Isaac and children, along with a number of members of the Gapes family, standing on the quay at Gravesend, only twenty miles from their old home in Bow. The last of their luggage and provisions needed on board having been stowed and their other possessions not needed on the voyage now stored in the hold, they were called aboard. The Regina was supposed to have left on 28/29 August but loading had been delayed. No doubt the Dellow children looked with wonder at the seemingly enormous sailing ship that would be their home for the next three months along with the 270 odd other passengers. As they had stowed their luggage and food their nostrils would have detected the odour of the Regina’s previous cargo, wool from New Zealand, the lanolin and smell of sheep fleece permeating through from the hold. Like all immigrant ships of the time, the outward ‘cargo’ was people, the inward ‘cargo’ was produce from the Empire.

The throng of people gathered on the quay farewelled the Regina as her mooring lines were slipped and she drifted away into the Thames. The voyage had begun, the Regina making its way to the sea via the very river that made the life of Londoners almost unliveable, the Thames.

The following thirteen weeks were, by comparison to many immigrant ship voyages, quite uneventful.

The accommodation was confining, privacy very limited and sometimes tempers were frayed. Boredom and

The idealised view of early settlement at the time. European men and women well dressed, happy, clean and refreshed after their long sea voyage.

Local Maori welcome the newcomers to their land by chivalrously carrying the women ashore. This image appeared in a New Zealand Primary School Bulletin “Pioneer Family” in 1963. The Dellow family certainly did not feel as fresh as this scene portrays.

The New Zealand Centennial 1940 stamp issue repeats this sanitised perspective.

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C I N E M A

The King of the Cowboys Mervyn Dykes

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Courtesy: Trevor King

eventy years ago, when a small boy witnessed his hero Hopalong Cassidy being disarmed by villains on a Saturday morning matinee screen, he did what any honest cowpoke would do.

Leaping to his feet in the darkened cinema, he raised his silver cap pistol to the roof and screamed, “You can have my gun Hoppy!”

“Shh! Sit down!” said his Mum, clutching at the boy’s shoulder to prevent him charging the screen and embarrassing her further.

So I sat down, but I rankled under the injustice. Hoppy needed help and I was ready to give it. All I needed to do was smash the screen with the butt of my gun and pass it through the glass to Hoppy. He would soon sort those bad guys out.

They were real to me, those cowboys, good and bad. So were their adventures.

I could tell the bad ones at a glance because they wore black hats and had thin, black moustaches; the good guys were usually clean-shaven with white hats. When the bad guys fronted up to the saloon bar they asked for whiskey; Hoppy always had sarsaparilla. He did break custom by often wearing a black hat, but he made up for it by riding a white horse by the name of Topper.

The six guns they used were great for long-range shots and they hardly ever needed reloading. And when Hoppy shot a bad guy’s gun out of his hand, no thought was ever given to where the bullet went afterwards.

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C I N EMA

Anyone standing in the line of fire was never injured. After hitting the bad guy’s gun, the bullet ceased to exist. Similarly, when a bad guy made a tenderfoot dance by shooting at his feet in the saloon, the bullets never made any holes in the floor. And when roisterers fired guns into the ceilings of saloon bars, the roofs never leaked and no harm came to the people upstairs.

Hoppy had two main sidekicks – a brash young cowboy called Lucky and a comic, woman-fearing old codger whose character name changed according to the actor playing the part. When Lucky saw a pretty lady he pursued her with vigour. The older sidekick spent much of his time hiding from females of his own age who pursued him with equal vigour.

This whole wild and wonderful world came racing back to me recently when You Tube spat out an old ‘Hoppy’ film.

Nostalgia sent me seeking more of them and before I knew it I was revisiting a raucous part of my childhood.

In those days youngsters would swagger out of Wanganui cinemas, terrorising adults trying to use the footpaths. We would take the same energy to the stands of trees behind both rows of houses in our street in Gonville as we replayed various Wild West adventures. (Once setting fire to the trees, but we tried to make amends by helping the fire brigade extinguish the blaze.)

Hoppy’s own beginnings were somewhat chequered too.

He was the invention of writer Clarence E. Mulford who churned out a stream of short stories and novels based on his hero. However, his Hoppy was rude, rough and tough talking, only one step up from the villains he bested. His wooden leg lead to the name Hop-a-long which later tightened up to become Hopalong. The more clean-cut movie hero was said to have earned his nickname after having once been shot in the leg.

Hoppy fought an endless stream of would-be cattle barons, rustlers, washed up claim jumpers and water monopolists.

He wasn’t too keen on sheep farmers and croppers, but was generally a champion of fair play.

The leading ladies were often hostile toward Hoppy but, once they had seen the light, Hoppy was gracious to them.

Then, just when they seemed about to become amorous, Hoppy and his sidekicks would ride off into the sunset. Fair enough too. We junior cowboys wanted none of that sloppy kissing stuff interfering with the action.

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Trackless Tram 36

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Driver Syd Smith is ready to drive Wellington’s first trolley bus (trackless tram) from the Kaiwharawhara Post Office on 7 October 1924. The trolley bus was built by Associated Equipment Co. Ltd. London for Inglis Brothers (New Zealand agents) who took ownership in September 1924. The line ran from Thorndon to Kaiwharawhara and closed on 30 May 1932. Christopher Moor’s article, on the following page, explores the history of the capital’s trolley buses. Ref ½-4357-1-G Sidney Charles Smith collection, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington NZ. 37

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STO RY

The Debutante Ball Leonie Couper

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don’t know when debutante balls fell out of favour. Perhaps they began disappearing in the late 1960s after Germaine Greer burnt her bra.

In Martinborough in 1959 though, the Young Farmers’ Club Debutante Ball was the stellar event of the season.

I was seventeen and a ledger machinist at the Bank of New Zealand. Our teller Mac Mactier, who was secretary of the Young Farmers’ Club, was in charge of organizing debutantes for the ball. There were not that many single young women in Martinborough and most would be debutantes at private colleges in the district. Four of my primary school classmates were going to be presented at the Solway College Ball in Masterton.

“Would you be interested in being a debutante Leonie?” Mac asked as I tapped the keys of my Burroughs machine.

“I’ll think about it,” I replied, visualizing the gown I would wear.

“I need three,” said Mac. Do you know any others?

“I’ll ask around,” I said.

In the evening I casually mentioned the subject to Mum. “You would make a lovely debutante,” she said. I thought so too - as good as any Solway girl.

My friends, Barbara who worked at Jayne and Haines Accountants, and Maybelle at Pain and Kershaw’s drapery, were willing. Maybelle was going steady with a builder in town so already had her escort. Barbara and I asked suitable male friends.

Next was the dress; long naturally, white, of course.

Pain and Kershaw’s and Wairarapa Farmers didn’t have a wide range of suitable fabrics, so on a Friday after work I caught the bus to Featherston and the railcar to Masterton to find something ravishing. My married sister Judy, who lived out of Masterton, met me at the Railway Station.

It was as well she had other shopping for the fabric shop had a bewildering array of gorgeous material. Bolts of satin, lace, taffeta, brocade, tulle and crepe de chine lined the shelves. At closing time I walked out with eight yards of brocade in a bulky parcel under my arm. It had cost me nine pound, eleven shillings and four pence; over a whole week’s pay. I also had fabric samples for Mum. The mother of the debutante had to have a new dress.

Mum chose silver-blue brocade and asked Mrs. Amos, a widow who was an excellent seamstress, to make 42

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STORY

Debutante Leonie Howells (in the background are Mayor Leslie Campbell, Mrs Campbell, Maybelle Cornes and Barbara Boyd).

up our dresses. Mine had a scooped neckline, puffed sleeves, a fitted waist to accentuate my best feature and a full flowing skirt.

The rehearsals at the Town Hall began. Mrs. Ross, the wife of the president of the Young Farmers’ Club, was in charge. She instructed us to walk tall and straight up the steps of the Town Hall stage and curtsy as we were presented to the Mayor and Mayoress of Martinborough. With our escorts we would lead the first waltz. Most importantly we would behave with the decorum that befitted young women ‘coming out’. Barbara, Maybelle and I practised walking up the steps in high heels without looking at our feet, in the long petticoats we would wear under our gowns.

At home I rehearsed my curtsy, bending one knee and bowing my head in front of Mum’s wardrobe mirror.

“You may arise,” said my fourteen-year-old brother Rass in a falsetto voice, as he tapped me on the head.

I practised walking elegantly down the hall with a book perched on my head. Rass minced with a book on his 43

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E D I TOR’ S

CHOICE Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ.Ref: Eph-A-WAR-SA-1900-04-cover

The Kruger’s Cage The inscription on the back of the photograph reads: “Waiwera shipping horses for S. African Contingent of the Forces Oct 20 1899.

Observe the ‘cage for Kruger’! To Jane with love from Nellie Xmas ‘99.”

(The SS Waiwera left from Queens Wharf, Wellington.)

Contributor Leonie Couper writes, “The photograph was given to my grandmother, Sarah Jane Harris (aged 22), by her future sister-in-law Nellie, although in 1899 I don’t imagine my grandparents had contemplated marriage to each other. Grandmother did not marry Grandad, Joseph Baghurst, until 1912. My grandfather was one of the Rough Riders of the 4th Contingent which left on the Gymeric on 31 March 1900.”

Leonie adds, “I think the cage in the photograph must have been a joke as the man pointing to the sign on the cage has a grin on his face”.

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