New Zealand Memories Issue 153

APPETISER
Hear Them Roar!
Spectators at the rugby game between Hawke’s Bay and the touring British and Irish Lions’
team. Photographed at Napier’s McLean Park on 20 June 1959. Turn to page 48 for David Hill’s
amusing account of the 1959 tour of New Zealand.
Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Ref: EP/1959/2878-F
1

EDITORIAL
Dear Readers,
Yes we have managed to deliver another issue despite the extended lockdown in
Auckland. Three cheers for our printers. Hopefully 2022 will bring more freedom
for New Zealanders with high vaccination rates giving better protection from serious
bouts of the stubborn virus. Meantime, we bring you an outstanding issue full of
fascinating stories and photographs to take your mind off the worries of this world
and unwind over the Christmas break.
Geoff Skene’s contribution tells of a Christmas holiday set in 1928 at Milford Sound
when the track was in its infancy. A diary left by a young woman, and long-treasured
by her family, offers a unique glimpse into the world-renowned attraction. On the
tourism topic, John Stackhouse returns with a rail experience which “might have
been” in his article on the Akaroa Belle.
Paul Aubin’s yarns are always good for a laugh and ‘I Join the Normals’ is no exception. The article gives a realistic
view of Dunedin during the war years from a young boy’s perspective. The comics of the day, the daily dose of
Maltexo, American soldiers, the ‘pictures’ and school antics, nothing escapes Paul’s unique humour.
The exceptional cover photograph supplied by the Navy Museum introduces Bill Conroy’s memories of Compulsory
Military Training with the Royal NZ Navy in 1952. The title ‘Press Ganged’ says it all!
Tucked between the longer articles are some charming gems. The festive tale of ‘Godber’s Lucky Cake’, David Hill’s
rugby piece ‘Hear Them Roar!’ and ‘Like a Foreign Land’ written by retired South Westland teacher Malcolm Smith
enrich this issue.
As I wish readers my customary Christmas blessing, I am reminded of the qualities shown by the Great Barrier Island
and Kaitaia communities in the account on page 58 of this issue. A spirit of kindness and co-operation prevailed.
We would do well to remember these qualities during our testing times.
Keep safe and God bless,
Wendy Rhodes,
Editor
For just $79 you receive an annual
subscription to New Zealand Memories.
Six superb issues direct to your letterbox.
A G i f t o f D i s t i n c t i o n
Surprise a friend or relative with a gift subscription.
We will even gift wrap the first issue, include a gift
card with your personal message and post it direct.
Freephone: 0800 696 366 or
Freepost: 91641
PO Box 17288
Green Lane, Auckland 1546
Email: admin@memories.co.nz
Subscribe and Save!
Visit our website w w w.memories.co.nz for subscriptions and gift ideas.
Order online securely today and pay via internet banking or credit card.
2

Editor
Wendy Rhodes
Graphic Design
Icon Design
Administration
David Rhodes
Distributed by
Are Direct
Subscriptions & Enquiries
Phone tollfree: 0800 696 366
Mail: Freepost 91641,
PO Box 17288, Greenlane, Auckland 1546
email: admin@memories.co.nz
www.memories.co.nz
Annual Subscription $79 for six issues
(Price includes postage within NZ)
Contributors
Akaroa Museum
Albertland & Districts Museum
Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ.
Aubin, Paul
Auckland City Libraries
Bailey, Josephine
Blackwell, Beverley
Blackwell, Les
Conroy, Bill
Creamer, John
Eliis Family
Grant John
Grant, Jeanette
Helenville Museum
Hill, David
History House, Greymouth
Isted, Bruce
Navy Museum
Reid, Steve
Russell, Tony
Skene, Geoff
Smith, Malcolm
Stackhouse, John
Stewart, Graham
Stewart, W.W.
Subritzky Mike
Tait, Gordon
Third, Lynne
Tiller, Eileen
Toitu Otago Settlers Museum
Waitakere Central Library
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
I Join the Normals 4
Primary School Lowlights from Paul Aubin.
Godber’s Lucky Cake 12
Gordon Tait returns with a festive story.
See You at Milford 14
Geoff Skene retraces an epic walk.
Press Ganged! 22
Bill Conroy’s memories of Compulsory Military Training.
World War II Rationing Coupons 27
From John Creamer’s collection of memorabilia.
From the Regions: West Coast 28
Centrefold: Stand Up… Lie Down 36
Pupils at Rachel Reynolds Kindergarten, South Dunedin.
Great New Zealand Train Journeys: The Akaroa Belle 38
John Stackhouse explores “what might have been…”
A New Age: Why Work? Do it Electrically 47
Hear Them Roar! 48
David Hill remembers the Lions at Napier’s McLean Park in 1959.
Novelty Postcards 50
Bruce Isted is an avid collector of this genre.
Gathering Firewood 54
A trip back to Canterbury’s Greendale with Tony Russell.
From the Regions: Auckland 56
Mailbox 69
Index and Genealogy List 70
Editor’s Choice: 72
Free Bus to Wellington’s Cuba Street.
Cover image:
Trainees at Divisions. Raising the flag at HMNZS Tamaki in 1952.
ISSN 1173-4159
December/ January 2022
Courtesy: Navy Museum.
3

EDUCATION
4

EDUCATION
I Join the Normals
Primary School Lowlights from Paul Aubin.
The Normal School was situated on ‘the Flat’, i.e. the flat area of northern Dunedin located around
the University. It was then a predominantly working class area with lots of families with lots of kids
– it is now, of course, overwhelmingly student flats. I was almost the only child who came from the
hill; there were no children living in Royal Terrace (which was then inhabited mainly by wealthy,
older and mostly retired couples) so I had no playmates with whom to walk home, and play with.
I was a very fearful child. When, on my first day at
school, no one showed me a peg or somewhere to put
my little black coat, I kept it on, tightly buttoned, for
well over a month: I was too timid to say anything,
and my teacher felt, apparently, that I had a Linustype
inseparable attachment to the garment.
I continued to be a very timid child until Standard
Four. I worried unceasingly about my marks and
school reports, and had to work excessively hard to
achieve the mostly quite modest grades that I did get.
(VF+ was a common one!) Unlike the vast majority
of the Normal children who went on to Dunedin
North Intermediate for their Forms 1 and 2 years, I
stayed on – nervousness again – for these years in a
so-called ‘Model’ class where, as I was now something
of a senior citizen there and captain and indeed sole
selector of our funny little cricket and hockey teams,
I finally acquired some confidence and embryonic
leadership skills.
The odd name ‘Normal’ for the school came from
the fact that we were the main training ground for
aspiring young primary school teachers. The original
Teacher Training College, a gracious old building, was
actually situated in our school grounds –it’s still there
– but during the late 1930s a ‘new’ Teachers’ College
had been built near Logan Park. Anyway, throughout
all my time at Normal, we had always a clutch of three
or four ‘students’ sitting at the back of the classroom
– and sometimes taking the odd little lesson – but
mainly there to absorb good teaching practices from
our respective and presumably respected teachers.
Normal Standard 3A, 1945: My class during the year
of the disastrous picnic, and the year war ended.
Top row (from left): Margaret McEwen, Faye, unknown,
Ron Murphy, Doug, Richard Rowe.
Second row: Dawn Turner, Ngaire Blackwood, Evelyn
Amalfitaine, Daniel Skyfield, Robert Bell, John Dalgleish.
Third row: Doreen, Lorraine Schreiffer, Arnold Gray,
Bobby Cook, Paul Aubin (author).
Fourth row: Unknown (2), Joan Matheson, Jane Hook,
David Murray, unknown, Allen Ring, Frank Richard.
Front row: Yvonne Claire, unknown, unknown, Lesley
Claire, Ross McLachlan, Noel Henry.
5

EDUCATION
These teachers were all ‘older’, partly because of the war I
suppose, but mainly because they were experienced educators
who were to show the way for the apprentices. My first
teacher was Miss Tyndall, a formidable, hospital-matronly
sort of presence (but kind, – on one occasion she visited me
in hospital and brought me a couple of English comics Tiger
Tim and Rainbow); then in Primer 4, Miss Garrett, a thin
rather scraggy lady I think; in Standard 1, Mrs Tomkins –
fine; in Standard 2, Miss Knowles, the first and only primary
teacher to give me the strap - and for me at that time a deeply
shaming experience. It is quite depressing for me now to
recall how desperately I wanted to be ‘good’ for everyone.
Then, in Standard 3, I had Harry Miller (H.V. Miller),
a dedicated teacher and an extremely good (but still sadly
underrated) artist, a small, very modest and very unassuming
man whom I liked a lot. He built a kiln in the playground
and we all made some very primitive pots and had them fired.
In Standard 4, I had Clem Hill, a brisk, efficient man; my
most significant memory of him is that he had, concealed
in a cupboard, a chemistry set which he would occasionally
produce and use in table-top demonstrations of scientific
things. He did them – but I do remember that once we all
were given oils of some kind and made oily and surrealistic
patterns with them – those swirly coloured images that you
sometimes see in the end-papers of older books.
Unlike the majority who moved on to the nearby
Intermediate, I stayed on at Normal for Forms 1 and 2 and
went into the class of Harry Hargreave whose class had a
complete spread of children from Primer 1 to Form 2, so there was a sprinkling of ages: 3 or 4 pupils at Form 2
level, 3 or 4 at Form 1 level and so on, right on down to the ‘tinies’. Hargreave was an earnest older man who later
went on to become a primary school headmaster and a lecturer at the (new) Teachers’ College.
I want to say something about the mysterious and now probably little understood term standard, as in Standard
1, Standard 2 etc. There was no ‘social promotion’ in those rigid days; you moved into Standard 2 only when you
had passed the ‘standard’ for Standard 1, and into Standard 3 when you had achieved the standard for Standard
2. If you didn’t reach the necessary standard, you stayed where you were! This meant that in any class, one could
find a wide variety of ages. In my Standard 3 class, I was 9 years old, but there were pupils there whose ages ranged
up to 13 or more. Quite recently I was doing some research and actually came across a teacher’s markbook for
my Standard 3 year and discovered that Harry Miller had appended the Binet Intelligence Test scores. A couple
of the better pupils had scores around the 140 mark but one 13 year-old – I shall call him Fred – scored only a
debilitating 64. And poor Fred did not move on; the teacher’s recommendation was yet another year in Standard
3! (But I think he left.)
The school was a cavernous building which contained, among other curious features, eight enormous classrooms.
When the school was constructed in the 1870s, the plan was to insert 800 pupils into these rooms, with about 100
in each room! In my time the class sizes had happily subsided to about 40. It was all nibbed pens and watery ink in
porcelain inkwells of course, though I remember that, because of a wartime shortage of chalk, our infant doodlings
were inscribed on ancient slates which someone must have recovered from some Victorian-age repository. We used
the ubiquitous Whitcombe’s Progressive Primers, which I found agreeable, and I learned to read quite quickly. The
first thing I ever read ‘all by myself’ was a page of a Rainbow comic, concerning the adventures of two children and
their uncle on a flying-boat. These English comics had quite a bit of text under each picture frame so, after a day
off from school with a cold or something, I was intensely proud to be able to tell my parents that I had spent the
afternoon in bed reading the whole of this page unaided.
Actually of course I attribute all the delight and any emerging skill I had for reading to the enthusiasm of my
6

EDUCATION
Dunedin’s Union Street Public School in the early twentieth century. The building was demolished in 1949.
father who endlessly used to read to me all the favourite stories of his own childhood and tell me tales about notable
authors – Kipling, Conrad and Lewis Carroll for instance – and also about some New Zealand writers, like Robin
Hyde, whom he had actually known in earlier heady days.
This love of reading which he engendered has incalculably enriched all my later life. I was an only child and,
without any children nearby, rather a lonely one, but with books I happily filled all my time. All this reading has
not, sadly, improved my writing at all, but nevertheless, and most of all, my father taught me to love and treasure
books. I still do.
And I started to become an avid collector of nearly everything: coins, comics, cigarette packets, leaves, stamps,
beetles, Junior Digests, and more. Though I now seek treasures in other fields – cricket memorabilia, old children’s
books, art works, Lewis Carroll, and so on – this enthusiasm for collecting continues still, or, at least, until recently.
My outside activities were centred mainly on the nearby Town Belt where I happily roamed freely and, in the
end, knew virtually every tree, stream and clearing. Here I made slides, dammed streams, climbed trees and not
infrequently took my books up to a cave and enjoyed quiet, solitary reading. Sometimes though, the Chettleburghs
joined me and together we swung from perilous vines, dug out caves (and lit fires in them), constructed huts,
played complicated games of hide and seek and, from the edge of a cliff overlooking Drivers Road below us, used
our pea shooters to fire blue-lupin peas at fist-shaking cyclists and motorists passing by below.
One rather odd thing I did was to go to the De Luxe Skating Rink in Filleul Street where, with unbelievably
uncomfortable rollers attached to the soles of my shoes, I would zap around the perimeters quite unassisted
by the young female ‘instructresses’, in brown mini-skirted uniforms and white boots, who were much more
concerned with holding their instructorial bodies close to the wobbling hordes of American soldiers enjoying -
or enduring - some R&R here in quiet old Dunedin. They did, of course, distribute funny long sticks of chewing
gum to little boys and lavished silk stockings and chocolate on their older sisters, but it was their ability to snaffle
the taxis from under the noses of ordinary Dunedin residents that made them widely disliked. They gave generous
tips of course and the readiness of local taxi drivers to concentrate on serving the affluent GIs enraged Dunedin’s
citizens, and infuriated too our own Kiwi soldiers, already deeply suspicious of the alleged sexual conquests enjoyed
by our American allies.
Another feature of this peculiar time was the urgency with which worrying parents poured endless gallons of
multifarious patent medicines down our throats. I, like most of my contemporaries, faced the daily indignity of
7

COMPULSORY MILITARY TRAINING
Press Ganged!
Memories of a Compulsory Naval Rating (CNR)
Bill Conroy
22

COMPULSORY MILITARY TRAINING
Bill Conroy in 1952 in full uniform.
In 1949, following overwhelming public support for
the move, the New Zealand National Government
introduced the Compulsory Military Training Act
which made all males liable for military service
upon reaching the age of 18 years.
The new Act came into effect in 1950 requiring all
medically fit young men to undertake 14 weeks intensive
full time training followed by three years part time
service, and then to be placed on the inactive reserve for
a period of six years. All trainees were given the option of
serving with the Royal NZ Navy, Royal NZ Air Force or
the NZ Army. A total of about 63,000 men were trained
under the CMT scheme before the Labour Government
abolished it in 1958 being replaced by the National
Service Registration Act.
As a qualifying male I chose to do my national service
with the Royal NZ Navy and so it was that I found myself
mingling with a host of other young men at Admiralty
Steps, at the bottom end of Auckland’s Queen Street,
early on the morning of 11 September 1952.
Bewildered and somewhat apprehensive we were
loaded on to a Fairmile launch (ex World War II vintage)
and taken to the RNZN Base at Devonport. Off-loaded
we gathered on a grassed area waiting for something to
happen. Eventually a naval officer came cycling along and
bleated: “I say you must be the new CNRs! Get fell in
chaps”.
Milling around we formed some sort of order and
shortly thereafter several Petty Officers hove in view, took
us in charge and marched us off to the Base Stores where
we were issued with our naval kit. I was amazed at the
amount of clothing, and equipment that was heaped
upon us and I despaired of ever getting it into the issued
kitbag. The most important piece of equipment given was
the Royal Navy Seaman’s Manual; this was to become our
bible. Not only did it contain all the information that we
were to absorb over the next three months, but also it was
the measuring template to be used in laying out our kit
for regular inspections.
When all trainees had received their allotted gear, we
climbed onto another Fairmile and headed for HMNZS
Tamaki, the Naval Training Establishment located on
Motuihe Island some miles out in the Hauraki Gulf.
Deposited on the jetty we gathered up our possessions
and having been marshaled into some sort of order we
were marched up the ‘Hill’ (which we came to know very
well) to the Training Establishment buildings.
Trainees dragging a boat up on to the beach at Motuhie
Island in 1952. Courtesy: Navy Museum
23

Stand Up … Lie Down
Pupils at the Rachel Reynolds Kindergarten, South Dunedin in about 1919.
Toitu Otago Settlers Museum 1988.229.1-4 and 1988.229.1-5
36

37

STORY
Gathering Firewood
Tony Russell
Like many rural areas of earlier New Zealand,
not every house was fortunate enough to
have an electric stove or water heater - they
were either too expensive or not available
for various reasons. So more often than not, the old
faithful Shacklock or Orion coal range sat there in the
kitchen, faithfully doing its job day after week after
month after year. Of course it had a voracious appetite
and had to be fed. Sourcing firewood was ongoing
and relentless, as many older folk can attest to, and
with ashes they were often dirty and dusty. But with
these few ‘minuses’, there were many ‘pluses’. They did
possess a certain personality, and their owners could
almost make them talk when it came time to bake a
perfect sponge or batch of scones. And the kettle was
always sitting to the side of the plate, singing gently
until it was moved to the centre to boil for a quick
cuppa. One must also remember the talking was not all
one-sided, as damp firing or a fire which had dropped
too far often caused a certain amount of consternation
from a harried housewife.
So what was the source of the firewood? Many folk
on the land either had or knew a neighbour who
owned a crosscut saw to fell and cut up a fallen tree.
It took a good man on each end of a crosscut to fell a
tree and cut it into manageable lengths to handle - say
four or five feet, depending on the girth. On occasions
I can recall my Dad not having anyone to work on the
saw after the tree had been felled, so to cut the logs
he would drive a stake into the ground, and tie a cut
car tube to it, and tie the other end to his saw. While
this was not perfect, it did suffice as a second man. As
I grew older, sometimes I was seconded to help and it
is surprising how much wood can be cut with a sharp
saw when a certain rhythm is achieved. There are still
a number of old-timers who will maintain two good
men and an equally good saw can outpace a chainsaw.
But no doubt a chainsaw doesn’t run out of puff quite
so quickly!
Now the logs had to be split, and as anyone on the
land will tell you, a green log or block is always far
easier to split than a dry one. A maul and wedges were
the weapons of choice splitting the logs into segments
to be dried by the elements. Drive in a wedge at the
right spot, perhaps put another one in behind it if
need be, a tickle with the axe, and more often than
not the log would fall in two - and so on into perhaps
quarters or sixths.
Sometimes a particularly knotty or stubborn log
would not yield to wedges, so the big guns (almost
literally) were brought to play. A blasting gun was very
effective in dealing with knarled logs, and apart from
that it was a lot of fun for a growing lad to be with
his Dad when the action was on. (I suspect the men
had a certain amount of fun, too!) A blasting gun was
(roughly) a heavy piece of round steel with the centre
drilled out for about two thirds of its length. The open
end was sharpened, and there was a small hole in the
side to accommodate a fuse. The central hole was
almost filled with blasting powder - a granulated form
of gunpowder - and capped with a wad of newspaper.
The sharpened end was held against the end of the log
(in a really tough spot) and tapped with a maul until
it held. Then it was driven well into the log, just short
of the fuse hole. A sack was draped over the exposed
end of the gun, to stop it from ending up in the next
paddock when it went off. Sure, it would still go places,
but only a sensible distance! A fuse of suitable length
(how fast and how far can you run?) was pushed into
the hole and lit. It was wise to have a safe spot sorted
out in advance (behind another tree, down a bank,
behind a shed) to wait for the explosion. You knew
it was going to happen, but the heart still beat a little
faster - then WHOOMP! It happened! With a bit of
good luck the log would be split cleanly into two or
three pieces of manageable size. It didn’t always work
out that way, though, and sometimes the process had
to be repeated two or three times, or if the log was only
cracked but not split, it wouldn’t work any more, as
the charge escaped before it could do its work.
So the split logs were stacked to dry for some months,
before being cut into blocks for further splitting by
hand for the fire. Not everybody had a saw-bench, but
Stan Kay in Greendale had one. It was mounted on
the back of an old Model T Ford truck, and when the
sound of his sawing bounced around the immediate
neighbourhood, you knew he would be at your place
before very long. Stan was a happy character who
owned a semi-portable sawmill, and lived in a series
of joined huts with his wife. Their home was cosy and
snug, and was erected ‘on site’ at whichever plantation
Stan was milling at the time. He was the first man in
Centre: Common ‘tools of trade’ for gathering firewood - the crosscut saw, maul and wedges, axe, crowbar,
blasting gun. For the really serious minded, a cant-hook and timber jack could be added.
54

STORY
the area to own a chain-saw, and what a revelation it was after sweating with a
cross-cut. By today’s standards, it was a monster of a machine, with a large engine
which had to be worked ‘the right way up’, had a very long blade (it swiveled
to compensate for the engine), had an auxiliary handle at the other end, and
required two men to operate it, especially at felling. What a contrast to today’s
chain-saws!
It was often said firewood warmed you twice - once when you gathered it for
the fire, and again when you sat in front of the fire. I would dispute that notion,
as I consider it warmed you at least four times - once when it was felled, split,
stacked and cut to length, once when it was cut into blocks, once when you sat
in front of the fire, and again when the grate was cleaned and the ash removed.
In a roundabout way, this could have been construed as being an efficient form
of heating!
Of course there were other ways of gathering firewood. With an abundance
of trees (thanks to the foresight of the pioneers), there were always branches and
pine cones to pick up, especially after a good nor’ wester. A certain amount of
driftwood could be salvaged from the riverbeds near home. We lived on the banks
of the Hawkins River, which only had water in it once in a blue moon after there
was exceptionally heavy rain in the headwaters.
Blasting logs was a lot of fun, but paled into comparison with blasting stumps.
Back in the late forties and early fifties, one did not get on the phone and call
up the bloke with the digger or the dozer to dig out stumps. Bulldozers were few
and far between and, apart from that, the logistics of removing a few stumps just
wasn’t a consideration. So if the stumps couldn’t be lived with until they rotted,
blasting them out was often an option.
Dad was called on at one time to get rid of a row of old stumps in the local
Domain, as they were in an area designated as a new parking area. He reckoned
blasting was about the way to go, and he would do the job... with the help of a
very excited and eager lad. I had never seen gelignite used, so I spent quite a bit
of time standing about asking questions and with eyes like saucers.
It was quite a simple procedure, yet one carried out with extreme care, as
gelignite had the propensity to do strange things if not handled with due care.
First Dad drilled a hole into the stump with a hand auger, about an inch and a
half in diameter, and went into the centre of the stump at a downwards angle just
above ground level. A stick of explosive had a small hole gently pushed well into
the end of it, and into this a lengthy fuse fitted with a detona-tor was guided. (No
sudden or jarring movements.) This combination was then slid into the hole in
the stump, and the neck of the hole sealed with damp mud to make an airtight
seal. The better the seal, the better the effect of the explosion. With the fuse lit it
was a case of heading for good cover and peeping with anticipation.
“It’s not gonna go, is it Dad?”
“Just hang on, Son - I put a long fuse in it!”
After what felt like an eternity entering its final phase, the world seemed to be
coming to an end! An almighty ‘THUMP’, a flash, a lot of smoke and various
sized pieces of wood took off hither and yon, raining down again yards and yards
away. And there was the pungent smell! What a buzz! This is how I remember it
as a boy, but then childhood things were always so much bigger than life, weren’t
they?
By today’s standards, the art and knack of keeping a steady supply of firewood
must appear to be something of a bind (something akin to keeping and milking
a house cow), but that was the way of life. Everybody accepted it and got on with
the job. And I don’t feel as though anyone was any the worse for the experience! n
55

INDEX and GENEALOGY LIST
A
ADAMS Charles 16
advertising 47
Akaroa 38
Akaroa Belle 38
Akaroa Railway 38
Akaroa Railway Endowment 43
Akaroa Railway League 46
All Blacks 1, 48
AMALFITAINE Evelyn 5
American soldiers 7
American troops 57
ANDREWS Gary 58
Anglican Church 58
appliances (electrical) 47
Archer's punt 29
Arthur River 18
AUBIN Paul 5
Auckland 23, 56
Auckland Domain 60
Auckland Exhibition 60
Auckland Industrial, Agricultural
& Mining Exhibition 60
Awanui 58
axe 54
B
baker (Wellington) 12
Banks Peninsula 40
BELL Robert 5
Belmont 65
Binet Intelligence Test 6
Black Orpingtons 32
blacksmith 64
BLACKWELL Beverley 59
BLACKWELL Les 58
BLACKWOOD Ngaire 5
blasting (logs) 54
Bluff 19
BRADSHAW Arthur 21
bridle tracks 66
British and Irish Lions 1, 48
BROADBENT Winston 14
BUCKLE Bishop Ted 58
Buller Gorge 28
Bycroft's windmill 63
C
Califig 8
Canterbury 54
CAULTON Ralph 49
Cementation Construction Ltd 64
charms (Christmas pudding) 12
Christchurch 39
Christmas cake 12
Christmas pudding 12
CLAIRE Lesley 5
Yvonne 5
CLARKE Don 49
Clinton River 14
Clinton Valley 16
coal range 54
coins (Christmas cake) 12
comics 6
communication (postcards) 50
Compulsory Military
Training Act 23
Compulsory Naval Rating 22
COOK Bobby 5
coupons (rationing) 27
Criterion Hotel 56
crosscut saw 54
crowbar 54
Cuba Street Mall 72
D
Dairy Flat 66
DALGLEISH John 5
DAVIES Terry 49
DAWSON Ronnie 48
De Luxe Skating Rink 7
Deep Cove 19
Dept of Tourism &
Health Resorts 17
DIGNAN Peter 60
Dobson mining disaster 69
DODDS Ian 10
Jimmy 10
Tommy 10
dredge (gold) 30
Dunedin 4, 19
Duvauchelle 44
E
education 4, 32
Edwardian postcards 50
electrical appliances 47
Ellesmere & Forsy
Lake Reclamation 43
ELLIOTT George 60
Empire Theatre (Dunedin) 8
engineering (Akaroa) 44
epidemics (1940s) 8
Exhibition (Auckland) 60
F
farming 66
fashion (Edwardian) 65
Fiordland 16
fire (Glade House) 20
firewood 54
Foveaux Strait 19
fruit industry 66
fundraising 58
G
GARRETT Miss
Glade House
6
14
Glen Eden 64
GODBER James 12
gold dredge 30
gold mining 30
GOODFELLOW James 67
Government Tourist Dept 15
Grand Theatre (Dunedin) 9
grapes (Dairy Flat) 66
GRAY Arnold 5
Great Barrier Island 58
Great Barrier Island
Interdenominational Church
Community Centre 58
Great Depression 45
GREEN George 67
Greendale 54
Greymouth 29
Greymouth Wharf 29
gumdiggers 66
H
Half Moon Bay 58
HAMER Vera 14
HARGREAVE Harry 6
HARRISON Bill 64
Harrison Cove 19
Hauraki Gulf 23
Hawk's Crag 28
Hawke's Bay 1, 48
Hawkins River 54
HEAPHY Charles 19
HENRY Noel 5
HILL Clem 6
Hokitika 30
Holy Name School 10
Homer Saddle 21
Homer Tunnel 21
HOOK Jane 5
horse tram 65
horse-drawn coach 28
Horseshoe Bush 66
I
illnesses (1940s) 8
Inangahua 29
Inangahua River 29
J
JACKSON Peter 49
JEFF Charles 67
JOBLIN Mr A. 43
JOHNSON Alf 68
JOHNSTON Tom 48
JOHNSTONE Mrs U.M. 29
K
Kaitaia 58
KANE Hope 14
Kaukapakapa saleyards 67
KAY Stan 54
kindergarten 36
KNOWLES Miss 6
L
Labour Government (1958) 23
Lake Gunn 21
Lake Kaniere 30
Lake Te Anau
Lammocks (Navy)
14
23
land reclamation 43
Lane's Emilsion 8
LEWIS George 64
LINDT John 16
Lion Peak 15
Little River 38
Little River Branch Line 42
Little River Marae 40
Lucas Creek 66
Luncheon Cove 19
M
MacDONALD Arch 14
MacKINNON Quintin 16
MacKinnon Pass 18
Magpies, The 48
Maltexo 8
Manapouri 19
70

INDEX and GENEALOGY LIST
MANSFIELD Katherine 12
MARSH Harold 68
MASSEY William 60
Masterton 69
MATHESON Joan 5
maul and wedges 54
Mayfair Theatre (Dunedin) `9
McCARTHY Winston 49
McEWEN Margaret 5
McLACHLAN Ross 5
McMILLER Mr J. K. 11
medicines 8
MEDLAND John 58
Medland Valley 58
Medlands Beach 58
Methodist Church 58
Milford Sound 14
Milford Track 14
MILLER Harry 6
MITCHELL Ernest 16
Mitre Peak 15
MORETON Roas 21
Morris 8 32
MORTON Samuel 16
Motuihe Island 23
Mount Eden 62
Mt Eden Borough Council 63
MURPHY Ron 5
MURRAY David 5
Murrell's track 19
N
Narrow Neck 65
National Electrical & Engineering
Co Ltd 47
National Government (1949) 23
National Service Reg. Act 23
Naval Training Establishment 23
Navy regulations 23
Ngai Tahu 16
Ngai Tahu Maori 40
Ngati Toa 40
Normal School (Dunedin) 4
North Dunedin 11
novelty postcards 50
NZ Army 23
NZ Railways 32
O
O'REILLY Tony 49
Oamaru 8
Octagon Theatre (Dunedin 9
Omanui 16
Onawe 40
orchards 66
Otago 4, 14
Otago Tramping Club 14
Otahuhu 56
Otira 32
Otira Tunnel 45
P
Pahiatua 69
Pallo washing machine 34
Papakura Station 57
PARRY Mr E. 45
party line telephone 34
pictures, the 8
Pineau Noir grape 67
plum pudding 12
Pompalona Hut 17
Port Chalmers 20
Porters Pass 32
postcard collecting 50
postcard varieties 50
POTTS Delbert 69
pounamu 16
Puketua 66
Q
R
R.N. Seaman's Manual 23
Rachel Reynolds Kindergarten 36
radio 9
Radio 4ZB 9
raffles (WWI) 12
railway 38
ration books 27
rationing coupons 27
real esatae (Belmont) 65
Regent Theatre (Dunedin) 9
RHODES Heaton 43
RICHARD Frank 5
Rimu 30
Rimu Gold Dredging Co 30
RING Allen 5
James 29
roading (Buller Gorge) 28
roading (Southland) 21
roadroller 68
Royal NZ Navy 23
Rodney Mounted Rifles 68
Ross 32
ROWE Richard 5
Royal NZ Air Force 23
rugby 1, 48
rugby tests 48
S
Sandfly Point 17
school buildings (Waitaha) 35
school lunch 10
SCHREIFFER Lorraine 5
SCOTLAND Ken 49
sealer's huts 19
servicemen's camps 57
sheep (Mt Eden)
SHEPHERD Bill
62
50
Mr J. A. 68
Ruby 50
shipping Fairmile 23
HMNZS Kiwi 25
HMNZS Tamaki 23
Kotare 18
Maori 29
S.S. Hinemoa 20
SKYFIELD Daniel 5
SMITH Judith 32
Malcolm 32
smithy (Glen Eden) 64
Solway camp 69
South Dunedin 36
South Westland 32
Southland 14
sport 1, 48
SQUIRES Frank 14
St John's Church 58
Staff's Foure Square 62
State Theatre (Dunedin) 8
STOKER Rev. Ken 58
STOKES Misses 10
Strand Theatre (Dunedin) 9
SUBRITZKY Basil 58
Bert 58
Subritzky Shipping 58
SUTHERLAND Donald 16
Elizabeth 16
Sutherland Falls 19
T
Takapuna 65
Takapuna Beach 65
TANGATA HARA 40
Te Anau 14
Te Ara a Kiwa 16
Te Rauparaha 40
teaching 4
telephone (party line) 34
Tilley petrol lamp 32
TOMPKINS Mrs 6
tourism 14
tourism railway 42
tramping 14
tramway 72
transport (Wellington) 72
TURNER Dawn 5
TYNDALL Miss 6
U
US soldiers 7
Union Street School 7
US Marines 69
V
viticulture 67
von GUERARD Eugene 16
W
W. Parsons & Sons 65
Wade, The 66
Waiheke 58
Waikumete Hill 64
Waitaha 32
Waitaha Valley School 32
Warkworth 68
wedding cake 12
Wellington
Wellsford
12, 72
68
Wellsford Station 68
West Coast 28
Whitcombe's Progressive Primers 6
Wilmot Pass 19
windmill (Bycroft's) 63
wine 67
World War Two 27, 57
X
Y
Z
Each issue of New Zealand
Memories contains an index
and, in keeping with genealogy
ideals, all surnames of
individuals are listed in capitals.
71

EDITOR’S CHOICE
Cuba Street
Children scramble for prime position on the back seat of the
Cuba Street ‘free bus’ in this photograph on Wellington’s iconic
street, 23 August 1956. Of note is the wicker pram secured at
the back of the vehicle.
Public transport had served Cuba Street from 1878, initially
by a steam tram service, then horse-drawn trams and finally
electric trams. The last tram through Cuba Street was in 1964
and, in response to a public crusade, the stretch between
Manners and Ghuznee Streets was closed to traffic and became
Cuba Street Mall in 1969. The much-loved bucket fountain
became a feature in the same year.
Alexander Turnbull Library Wellington NZ. Ref: EP/1956/1759a-F and EP/1959/4124-F
72