New Zealand Memories Issue 155

New Zealand Memories Issue 155

New Zealand Memories Issue 155


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A Colman’s Promotion?

An upgrade from ‘dog power’ for this homemade sledge on Surat

Beach in the Catlins dated between 1895-1900. Of interest is the box

on the sledge; it is marked ‘Colman’s Mustard Oil’. As a bull is part of

Colman’s product branding, perhaps this was an advertising gimmick?

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington,NZ. Ref:1/2-140528-G



Dear Readers,

This anonymous quote was sent in by a reader, “Sometimes you will never know

the value of a moment until it is a memory”. So true! Writing memories down

not only allows us to relive the experience but it also secures a valuable permanent

record for future generations. And many are doing just that. Since I took over the

editorship of the magazine, contributions have increased tenfold. My own father

died when I was in my mid thirties and I did not ask the pertinent questions about

his childhood and World War II service in Egypt and Italy (although I do know

that he falsified his age in order to enlist early and a blind eye was turned by the

authorities). How I wish Dad had recorded his memoirs.

The Hill family will certainly not be short of family stories; David’s leading article, The Unswinging Sixies,

will strike a cord with Wellington residents and with young men and women whose independence began in

a boarding house. Gordon Tait follows on with the next stage during early marriage; the hosting of dinner

parties a decade later. Lack of restaurants - and lack of cash - prompted this trend. Every hostess had a specialty

and mine was Bombe Alaska. The dish called for ice cream coated in meringue to be placed into the oven and,

despite my qualms, it never did melt.

Who remembers the children’s session on Sunday morning radio, or Portia Faces Life with a chance for Mother

to put her feet up? Preserving fruit and jam-making, belonging to a marching team, betting at the races, the

local telephone exchange, motoring memories - everyone will relate to a topic in this diverse issue.

Life was not without serious challenges in the first half of the twentieth century. As we read in Claire’s account

of the Blackball Miner’s Strike of 1908, New Zealand workers fought dearly for the rights we now take for

granted. Grievances resulted in much hardship. Then along came the wars. Renée Hollis has supplied a POW’s

World War II recollections which make spellbound reading and serve as an example of survival against all

odds. While searching for a relevant Red Cross illustration for this article, I met Isabel via the Inver Museum,

Northern Ireland website, and the photograph on page 15 was kindly supplied for publication.

Take care, stay safe and here’s hoping life is back to the old normal before I write again.

Wendy Rhodes,


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Albertland and District Museum

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ

Auckland Libraries Heritage Collection

Basham, Barbara

Benge, Geoff

Bourn, Christopher

Christchurch City Libraries

Cowan, Bill

Crean, Mike

Duncan, Claire

Exisle Publishing

Finnie, Maureen

Hill, David

Hollis, Renée

Inver Museum, Larne, Northern Ireland

Isted, Bruce

Marsh, Harold

McKinnon, John

Meadows, Dudley

Mingins Dorothy

Moore, Anne

Shields, Ted

Stables, Bert

Stewart, Graham

Tairawhiti Museum

Tait, Gordon

Turley, Alan

Walsh, Eddie

Walsh, Graeme


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.


The Unswinging Sixties 4

From Napier to the capital: David Hill in Wellington.

The Dinner Party 8

Gordon Tait recalls socialising in the seventies.

Saved by Hank the Yank in Bari Hospital 10

John Richardson, prisoner of war. Courtesy of Renée Hollis.

More on the Wireless… 16

‘A Switched On Era’ and ‘Children’s Session’ by Christopher Bourn.

‘Radios and Records’ by John McKinnon.

Trains 20

A nostalgic poem from Mike Crean.

From the Regions: Gisborne / Eastland 21

Love is a Marching Girl 28

Alan Turley examines the popularity of marching teams.

Education in the Twenties 30

Anne Moore attended Mati School near Matamata.

The Chief 34

Westport horse finds fame. From Eddie and Graeme Walsh.

Centrefold: Standing the Test of Time 36

Auckland’s Royal Oak Hotel.

Striking Out 38

The Blackball Miners’ Strike of 1908 by Claire Duncan.

All in the Line of Duty 46

Geoff Benge’s uncle was a stoker on the ship ‘Achilles’.

The Sad Tale of an Ancestral Bible. 48

Bruce Isted recounts the story.

Preserving Fruit 63

No shortage of produce for bottling writes Anne Moore.

From the Regions: Southland 50

Harry and Connie Stables 58

Bert Stables remembers farming at Wharehine..

Motoring de Luxe, 1923 64

A daring South Island drive; compiled by Ted Shields.

Can You Help? 67

Mailbox 68

Index and Genealogy List 70

Editor’s Choice: Coffee Break 72

The Gaggia expresso machine impacts Christchurch.

Cover image:

ISSN 1173-4159

“Donated by the Frost Family” with no other details. April/May 2022

Turn to page 67. 3


The Unswinging Sixties

David Hill

Just over sixty years ago, I boarded a railcar in Napier, and came to the capital for the first time.

I stepped off at Wellington’s lofty main station, its foyer dominated in 1960 by William Trethewen’s

grandiose plaster sculpture The Coming of the Maori. Six decades on, reworked in bronze, and retitled The

Kupe Group, the work sits on the waterfront by the Star Boating Club.

In my grey flannel trousers with turnups, brown slip-on shoes and green sportscoat, I took a taxi to the

boarding house my Dad had found via several toll calls. I’m pretty sure the fare was two shillings.

The taxi tipped me out onto the footpath in Sydney Street West, about 400 metres behind Parliament Buildings.

Old Parliament Buildings: Basil Spence’s Beehive wouldn’t start rising for another decade.

I’d never been in a boarding house before. This one was a two-storey wooden straggle of high, square rooms

jammed up against a bank below Bowen Street.

Sunlight never touched the place from late May to early August. Inside, it smelt of cooking gas and damp

wallpaper. Outside at the back was a dilapidated laundry where we washed clothes in concrete tubs and a hand


Yet I ended up staying three years there, paying an exorbitant two pounds per week. I’d probably have stayed

longer, if the Ministry of Works hadn’t bought and bowled it for the proposed Wellington Motorway.

Eight young men cooked in our boarding house’s tiny kitchen, frying damaging quantities of meat in equally

damaging quantities of fat on the crusted, rusted gas stove.

We shared the one bathroom / toilet, with its gas calafont that sounded like an asthmatic bulldozer. It gave enough

luke-warm water to sit in hip-deep. We bathed maybe twice a week, and thought ourselves exceptionally clean.

The corner of Bowen Street and The Terrace, Wellington.

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington. Ref: EP/1955/0449-F



Milk bar at the Opera House in Manners Street,

Wellington c.1962.

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ Ref: 1/1-015555-F

Our landlord had negotiated a deal with Victoria University’s Weir House Hostel (restricted to men only in

those days), where we paid ten shillings for five weekday lunches. I remember Watties Tinned Spaghetti and

Watties Baked Beans, sometimes served on the same plate, and frequently followed by Watties Tinned Peaches.

I caught a red-and-cream tram to the Basin Reserve, to watch Plunket Shield cricket. The legendary Bert

Sutcliffe got whacked on the head by a bouncer, wiped away the blood, carried on. Helmets? Get serious. Brain

damage was a badge of sporting commitment.

Another tram took me to Athletic Park, where men in gaberdine raincoats and hats packed the Western Bank,

on which the lofty Millard Stand was beginning to rise.

There, I saw the equally legendary Wellington rugby captain Neven MacEwan make such masterly use of wind

and sun that you wished he’d been a general in World War One. The towering lock forward later battled all sorts

of personal demons before becoming a splendid prison chaplain and celebrant. He talks about them powerfully

in his 2019 autobiography, When the Crowd Stops Roaring.

The 1960 All Black, all-pakeha team to tour South Africa was announced from under the Athletic Park

grandstand: “Fullback – D. B. Clarke, Waikato....”. In our boarding house, we crowded around a valve radio at

2 am to hear South African referees cheat us of victory.



“Our girlfriends wore straight-line pencil

skirts and back-to-front cardigans. Arty ones

among them turned out in black duffel coats.”

There’d been a few protests before the team left, mostly from students in brown duffel coats, whom we’d now

call politically motivated, but whom we then called long-haired commies. Yes, even university types put rugby

before decency in those days.

I’d like to tell you about 1960 Wellington nightlife, even if that phrase is a self-contradiction. Mine involved

walking to the St James Theatre or the Opera House, to see The Kingston Trio in their neat striped shirts;

the Howard Morrison Quartet with their neat narrow ties; Danish comedian Victor Borge with his glorious

Phonetic Punctuation monologue.

We couldn’t watch TV, because it didn’t start till halfway through 1960, and then only in Auckland, for three

hours a night.

We could go to the few coffee bars, where bitter Cona coffee bubbled in glass pots. Brave souls tried the even

fewer, totally alcohol-free nightclubs.

Mostly, we went to the movies. The flicks, sorry, especially the Saturday 8 pm session. The National Anthem

as in God Save the Queen played, and everyone stood up.

Next came Movietone News in a BBC accent, a couple of trailers, a cartoon or two. Then interval, when

everyone opened Wellington’s 8 O’Clock newspaper with that afternoon’s sports results, and the cinema lobby

filled with cigarette smoke. Passive smoking? Never heard of it.

After interval, Anthony Perkins terrified everyone in Psycho, or Kirk Douglas showed his torso and limited

acting skills in Spartacus. There was also La Dolce Vita, which we went to for its artistic significance, (meaning

Anita Ekberg’s torso, which differed markedly from Kirk Douglas’s).

Substance abuse? Well, there was beer. And more beer. There was also an appalling thing called Merry Widow,

a mixture of orange juice and gin that no chap in a green sportscoat would be seen near.

You drank the beer at student parties, where some people talked and stood around, while others drank and

fell around. Sophisticates went to The Skyline cabaret at the top of the Cable Car, or The Pines at Oriental Bay,

and their photos appeared in the social pages. We sneered at them loudly; envied them furtively.

At Victoria University – three brick buildings, mainly: the ivy-wreathed Hunter; the square Kirk; the handsome



Submarine USS Halibut left, out at sea, and Naval officials onboard at Wellington on 27 April 1960.

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Ref: EP/1960/1468-F, 1470-F.

new Easterfield, opened in 1959, I studied English (Shakespeare and Charles Dickens and TS Eliot – no NZ

content); History (medieval Europe – no NZ content either); French.

Ian Gordon lectured us in his soft Scottish accent about language; Joan Stevens made us laugh with her

accounts of early horror novels. Peter Munz, historian and translator, had escaped Nazi Germany with the rest

of his Jewish family in early 1940.

I’d seen their names on books and pamphlets at high school; now I realised they were real people. Hard to

believe. They called me – if they ever had reason to speak to me – “Mr Hill”. Harder to believe.

I was at University courtesy of the taxpayer. I was a Division U student, accepted by the Ministry of Education

for future high school teaching, and paid a pretty decent allowance all through varsity. All I had to do after was

go to Training College and then teach one year for every year I’d been at University. Goodness, we had it easy.

What else do I recall about 1960 Wellington? A US nuclear-powered / armed submarine being warmly

welcomed into the harbour, without a single protest vessel in sight. (The sub was called Halibut, which struck

me as such a silly name for a killing machine.)

I remember how Asian faces were still rare enough, except in fruit stores, to draw second looks, and how, when

an Afro-American student spent a term at Vic, people collided with lamp-posts as they gaped at him.

We were a small (2.3 million), isolated, conservative country, secure in our farming exports, convinced the

UK would always grant us favourite nation status. Yet my friends and I knew we would change the world.

We were so trendy in our flannels and sportscoats. Psychology students were trendiest of all, in brown

corduroys and even – degenerates! – scarves. Our girlfriends wore straight-line pencil skirts and back-to-front

cardigans. Arty ones among them turned out in black duffel coats.

There were guaranteed careers ahead of us, multiple holiday jobs to choose from, a booming economy. The

Cold War was half a world away; the hot summers unblemished by any knowledge of climate change. Even

more blissfully, jeans had begun to appear in the shops. For an 18-year-old of 1960, blue denim heaven was just

around the corner. n



Saved by Hank the Yank,

in Bari Hospital

John Richardson, Prisoner of War.




had arrived in Bari hospital on the 20th December 1941, after being captured in the Libyan Desert on

the 22nd November.

The night I was captured, my truck had been blown up by a German tank, and had rolled down an

escarpment. I had a severely fractured lumbar spine, a broken right knee and left arm. Shrapnel was

embedded in both hands, in the left side of my face, and my leg.

I had been put in a German truck and carted around the desert for the next five days. During this time the

truck was dodging British tanks and aircraft. The young German soldiers were very short of water, but they

shared with their prisoners what they had. It wasn’t very palatable as it was drained out of the radiator tanks

of smashed up trucks lying around the desert. I wasn’t often very conscious but these soldiers would shake me

awake to give me my ration. It was never very much but without it we wouldn’t have survived the long hot days

travelling through the desert.

I saw the German General Schmidt walking past with Colonel Fraser, a Kiwi artillery officer. He stopped

when he saw me and told the general that I was a New Zealand officer. I was then placed in the German Field

hospital until 16th December.

General Schmidt came to see me to tell me that

Bardia was about to be captured by the British, so I

was being transferred to Bari hospital in Italy, by the

hospital ship Aquilla. We were at sea for four days,

and I experienced no ill-treatment during this time.

However, when we arrived in Bari, and I was being

taken out of the ambulance, a gang of six blackshirted

Mussolini thugs turned up and started beating me.

They kicked in my ribcage, doing extensive internal

damage. All the good work done by the German

doctors in treating my gun and shrapnel wounds was

undone in minutes.

Finally they were shooed away by a small nursing

sister who appeared at the door of the hospital.

Profusely bleeding by this time, I was taken inside to a

small six-bed ward. It was then I met “Hank the Yank”

as I later used to call him.

I heard this rough Brooklyn voice address me, “Hey

sonny, what have these wops been doing to you?” I

couldn’t answer him because I couldn’t speak. My

jaw had been dislocated. Hank disappeared and came

back with a nurse, and together they tried to clean up

my wounds.

Bari hospital was an unrelenting nightmare, but

for Hank the Yank. He was a remarkable character. I

learned that he was an Italian gangster who had been

living in Brooklyn, New York, and had been deported

back to Italy from America. He loathed the Italians,

referring to them always as “Wops” in the most

derogatory terms. He had been assigned to the lowly

job of cleaner in this hospital built by Mussolini.

Courtesy: Inver Museum, Larne, Northern Ireland.


Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 3-698-221


Standing the Test of Time

Business premises on the corner of Campbell Road and Mount Smart Road, Royal Oak,

Auckland photographed in about 1910. The Royal Oak Pharmacy and a Post Office

occupy the downstairs areas and J. E. Butler, dental surgeon, has rooms upstairs. A

postman can be seen in the doorway.

The building at the rear with the chimney is the original Royal Oak Hotel built in 1853.

The inset shows the Royal Oak Hotel in 1878 situated at the junction of Manukau

Road and Mount Smart Road. It was the third public house and the first brick building

erected in the locality of Onehunga. In 1908 the hotel lost its licence to sell alcohol and

had to cease trading; the building was operating as business premises by 1910. (The

suburb of Royal Oak was named after the hotel.)

When the wooden structure was added is unknown. Standing the test of time, the

building remains a valued Auckland landmark.

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Ref: 1/2-001197-G



Sad Tale of an Ancestral Bible

Bruce Isted

On Monday 14 August 2017, I gave a brief talk to the NZGS Whanganui Genealogy

Branch about a family heirloom.

From oral family history, it was thought the family Bible was given as a wedding gift on 3

September 1866 in Christchurch to my maternal 2 x great-grandparents, George Shepherd (born

1836 Hexthorpe, Yorkshire, England; died 1911 Wanganui) and Greta Sarah (Margaret) Hullen (born 1847

Whitechapel, London / Middlesex, England; died 1935 Timaru). However upon further research, this date

proved to be not quite correct, though not far off it.

The family Bible was more likely to have been given to Margaret when she reached 25 years of age (1872) by

her parents (my maternal 3 x great-grandparents), Heinrich (Henry) Hullen (born c.1809 Hannover Province,

Germany; died 1884 Waitohi NZ) and Ann(ah) Margretha Wiessner (born c.1813 Bavaria Province, Germany;

died 1889 Waitohi NZ). Possibly in the 1830s this couple emigrated from Germany to England. Henry had

several known occupations during his working life (20-30 years) in London: sugar baker, charcoal labourer,

and skin dresser. On 29 August 1859 they and their children (including Margaret) emigrated to New Zealand

aboard the ship Regina. Henry’s New Zealand occupation was a farmer.

The Bible was published in 1871 by William Collins, Sons, & Company of Glasgow & London (the firm was

known by that name between 1868-1880). It has dark brown full leather binding, with blind stamped, indented

linear borders to front and rear, five raised bands to spine with gilt title in second compartment, bevelled

edges, brown endpapers. It doesn’t have a clasp. Text is divided in two columns with two smaller columns of

parallel passages between them. It has copious footnotes and is illustrated with some coloured as well as black

and white pictures. Useful appendices are at the back. The Old Testament has 942 pages, then two pages on

historical connections and The New Testament has its own title page, preceded by the family details pages. The

New Testament has 288 pages, Scripture Chronology, Names etc, followed by Biblical Antiquities, Biblical

Cyclopaedia and The Psalms of David. The whole bible amounts to around 1,383 pages (excluding pages with

illustrations) and measures 340mm length x 250mm width and weighs 4.5kg.

Sadly after page 944 (about three-quarters of the way through the Bible), the two most important pages for

a genealogist had been cut out at some time (probably during World War One because of the anti-German

sentiment) by my maternal great-grandmother Eliza Shepherd formerly Culley nee Wood (1871-1958). She

married William Shepherd (1867-1928) on 21 March 1901. n

George and Margaret Shepherd c.1870s;

the photographs were possibly remounted in

the early 1900s by Alfred Hardy of Timaru.

The 1871 Family Bible where two pages

containing family genealogy were removed.



Preserving Fruit

Anne Moore

Dad had planted a good orchard of Burbank plums, peaches, nectarines, quinces and apples; this

included the welcome Irish Peach apple which ripened in January. It did not have a long shelf life so

was rarely seen in shops. We did not have a lawn mower, so the grass in the orchard and in front of

the house was kept low with a scythe.

The Bowler Brother, who came from England, had a well-established orchard and gave us Christmas plums,

Early River and Green Gauge plums, Northern Spy and Russett apples and walnuts. In Autumn we could sit on

our horse and pick walnuts off the tree till our hands were stained brown from the green pod over the nut.

Fruit was peeled and cut up and pressed into two quart preserving jars with screw bands on the outside of the

neck. A rubber band was put in the lowest spiral ready for the screw top. The jars were almost filled with hot syrup

(sugar and water) and the metal screw top with its porcelain inner was screwed down lightly to allow for expansion

and the jars placed in a large preserving pan of water which was boiled on the top of the stove until the fruit was


The jars were lifted out, the lids screwed down tight and the jar turned upside down. As the fruit cooled it was

watched for air bubbles inside the jar which meant that the lid was not air tight. Any leaking jars were uprighted,

a circle of brown paper was cut and smothered in flour and water paste and smoothed over the lid and part way

down the jar. The warmth of the jar and the fruit soon dried the paste and all were stacked away in the cupboard

to be used in winter and spring. Housewives took pride in showing visitors their cupboard of jams and preserves.

Lots of jam was made, sugar bought in 50 lb Hessian bags which made good oven cloths, peg bags and milking

aprons. The fruit and sugar was boiled until a little, cooled in a saucer, set. It was then ladled into hot jars and

covered with wax or brown paper and flour paste, or a lid. Jellies took at least two days; the fruit boiled and tied

up in cheese cloth which was hung over a broom handle lying on a chair and allowed to drip all night into a

bowl. Next day sugar was added to the juice, cup for cup, and again boiled until a little in a saucer set. It was then

poured into hot jars for storage. The lovely clear colours depended on the fruit, pink for apples and peaches, red

for raspberries and purple for blackberries.

Blackberries were gathered from the river bank, the most luscious hanging over the deep pools. Dad had made

us a canoe out of two sheets of corrugated iron in which we could float down the Waitoa picking blackberries.

One summer there were some particularly luscious blackberries hanging under our bridge. With my billy, I slipped

into the knee deep water and started picking when an eel came up and bit me on my calf. I was determined to get

the blackberries so I stood on one foot and kicked and splashed with the other until I had all the berries. I had six

small punctures, three top and three bottom, on my calf to prove my story.

Years later when Dad owned a New Beauty Ford car we’d have a picnic day with friends on top of the Kaimai

Range and fill two four gallon tins with huge blackberries. We would place 12-inch wide boards on top of the

vines and walk into the bushes to pick. This large berry variety has disappeared now, only the small bramble kind

is left in hedges and wastelands. Mid afternoon came all too soon and off home we went to milk cows with our

purple hands. n



Teaching at Waitaha - Issue 153

Mail Box

Dear Editor,

It was with delight and much interest that I read the article Like a Foreign Land to Me by

Malcolm Smith as my husband was the sole charge teacher in that remote little school

during 1967/ 1970.

At that stage there were only 13 pupils and after we left the roll got down to nine and was

then closed, only to reopen some years later and become a two teacher school for a while.

The schoolhouse is now a farm worker’s cottage and the school has become someone’s

holiday bach. The valley at that time had about 15 houses, mostly smallish dairy farms and

one cattle and sheep farm at the end of the valley. Conditions were much easier by then and we took electricity

as a given and had an electric stove to cook on. The roads were all tar-sealed but the school was still considered

a ‘remote’ school which meant, because the school was ‘30 miles’ from the nearest bank and men’s hairdresser’ -

blow the wives’ hairdos - we were allowed to close the school one day a term for the chance to go shopping. We

usually stocked up with food every six weeks.

On the subject of food, I remember the pupils bringing us small buckets of blackberries and the same of

whitebait to sell; it cost three shillings and sixpence for the whitebait! They also brought us opossums to skin

when the word got round we were keen to cure some skins. Still on the subject of food, we had a 15 cubic foot

freezer so we bought literally a half cattle beast; it took me all day to cut and bag it and we had to put both

extensions out on the kitchen table for the beast to fit on. Luckily I was a trained Home Science graduate and

had the expertise to know which cut was which.

Malcolm mentioned the rainfall - 128 inches I believe. We grew great vegetables but to do so we had to dig a

one-foot square trench all around the plot to stop the vegetables floating away!

The teachers on the Coast made a point of getting together regularly, even though it sometimes meant an

80-mile return trip (i.e. to Fox or Franz Josef) but it did keep us in touch. We were considered from far away

coming from Canterbury and positively really foreign when the locals discovered we were originally from

England and Ireland.

A last wee story, the Church was used by several denominations and one local vicar was also the local electrician.

On one occasion my husband went to communion to find he was the only member of the congregation. He

declined the offer of singing any hymns and then found the communion cup was missing. The vicar requested

my husband pop across the road to the hall to see if there was anything suitable. The only vessel that he could

find was a very tea-stained thermos flask lid. A memorable church service!

We loved our time in Waitaha; it was a great place to bring up our two young children and a wonderful



Anne Gentleman

Dear Editor,

Malcolm Smith’s article Like a Foreign Land to Me brought back many similar memories of life teaching in a

remote rural school.

Sadly so many of these schools are now closed with all traces of their existence all but forgotten. Malcolm, and

other readers, may be pleased to know that Waitaha Valley School has recently been purchased by a private

owner who is living in the schoolhouse and having the school painted and restored. Over the road the much

older (1919?) Anglican Church continues to serve as a family home while the neighbouring community hall

still survives. Today primary school children of the valley go north to Ross School and older students south to

South Westland Area School at Hari Hari.

Mike Whittall


Farming Holidays - Issue 151

Dear Wendy,

My sister Di, who lives in central Otago, just sent me Isuue 151

of New Zealand Memories. It is fantastic. Imagine my surprise

and delight when I realized the cover photograph was of my

beloved Aunt Aileen. Beverly Broad’s memories of holidays on

our farm (called Onawe after the peninsula that juts out into the

harbor) rekindled my own.

I lived on the farm until I was 18. I did everything a boy could

dream of, from bottle-feeding fed orphan lambs to teaching

calves how to drink from a bucket. And yes, they all sucked your

fingers like crazy. I even learned to ride a horse on ‘Friar Tuck’.

One memorable day, I was riding in front of Aileen and she

dismounted to open a gate. Friar Tuck got impatient and not

so gently took off up a steep hill between our farmyard and the

house I lived in. We trundled up the hill with Aileen running

screaming behind us. Tuck and I arrived safely at the top of the

hill where he stopped. I was two years old. At the age of five, I

rode my pony to school every day until I was ten and went to

boarding school.

I still think our farm is in one of the most beautiful harbours in

New Zealand. Alas, my family sold the farm in the 1990s.

Many thanks to Beverley and your wonderful magazine for

evoking my own memories. I have lived in northern California

since 1986, where the scenery is very much like parts of New


Best regards,

Steve Kay


Rationing Coupons - Issue 153

Dear Wendy,

I was interested and surprised to see a photograph of a

particular ration book featured with the article in Issue

153. I remember these being in use for various purchases,

especially petrol, during the early 1940s.

The ration book featured was issued to “Selwyn K. Searle,

Annat” who happens to be my first cousin (Selwyn

Keith Searle 5 July 1928 - 9 May 2008) previously of

Annat, Canterbury. I thought the extra detail might be of


Kind regards and keep up the good work.


Ian E. B. Piner


Mailbox 155.indd 69

29/03/22 3:44 PM



advertising 1, 51

aerial tramway 40

alcohol 9

All Blacks 5

anti-german sentiment 48

Arbitration Court 43

Argyll motorcar 64

Athletic Park 5

Auckland 36, 47

Auckland Islands 54

Aunt Daisy 16

aviation 52


BAKER Ella 31

Iris 31

Mr 52

Balderstone & Party 45

BANK Jock 33

Mick 33

BANKS Audrey 31

Jack 31

Joan 31

Mick 31

Bari Hospital 10


BASHAM Maud 53

Basin Reserve 5

Battle of River Plate 46

BENSLEY Margaret 52

Bermaline loaf 52

BEVERLY Margaret 31

May 31

Nessie 31

Bible 48

Black Ball Shipping 39

Blackball 38

Blackball Creek Coal Co. Ltd 45

Blackball miners 39

Blackball Miners Strike 39

Blair Athol team 28


Bluff 55

Bluff Post & Telegram 55

boarding house 4


BORGE Victor 6

BOWLER Billy 31

Nelson 31

Bowler Bros. 49

BOYES Lyall 16

BRANKS Russell 53

Brunner 44

Buller River 33

Bullock team 27



camera (homemade) 61

Canterbury 64

Catlins 1

cattle farming 58

chanting (alphabet) 30

children's radio 17

Christchurch 72

cinemas (Wellington) 6

Cleddau River 52

Coal Mines Act 40

coalmining 40

COCROFT Sgt Major 14

coffee bars (Wellington) 6


Coleman's Mustard 1

Communist Party 45

Conservator of Forests 52

coracle 54

CRABB Archie 31

crystal sets 18

cuisine 8

CULLEY Eliza 48

cycling (Wyndham) 55


Danthonia seed 58

DC3 Dakota 52

De havilland bi-plane 52

dining (1970s) 8

dinner party 8

Dinner Party Cookbook 8

Disappointment Island 54

DODDRELL Elsworthy 22

Dominion Hotel (Greymouth) 45


Dunedin 57

Dunedin (marching) 28

Dunedin North Post Office 57

Durban Chief 34


Edmonds Cookery Book 8, 53

education 30

Education Board 30

ELLERBECK Charles Joseph 22

Harry Syers 22

John Henry 22

Lawrence Anderson 22

Ellerbeck Studio 22

entertainment 6


Fails Café 72

family genealogy 48

farming 58, 64

fashion (1960) 7

Federation of Miners 43



Carolyn 56

Maureen 56


food parcels (POW) 15

food preparation 8

FRASER Colonel 11

FRASER Peter 43

FROST Miss 30

fruit preserves 49

FW Niven & Co. 51


Gaggia expresso 72

GALT Mr 52

Georgetown 53

GIBBS Nick 60

GILMOUR Robert 51

Gisborne 21

Gisborne Photo News 23


John 16

gramophone 18

Grand Hotel (Invercargill) 52

Great Strike 1913 44


handwriting (school) 31

HICKEY Patrick 43

Homer Tunnel 53

HOPPERS Arthur 31

Ethel 31

Len 31

Olive 31

horseracing 34

Howard Morrison Quartet 6

HULLEN Annah 48

Greta 48

Heinrich 48


Indept Political Labour League 43

industrial relations 43

infant photography 22



Invercargill 50

Invercargill landmarks 50

Invercargill Municipal Baths 52

Italian Campo 57 12

Italy (WWII) 11


jam making 49



JOHNSTON Norman 31

Joliffetown 40


Kauri 61

KELSO Dorren 16

Kingston Trio 6

Kuaotunu 22


Lamphouse Store 18

LECKIE Bill 53

Lochiel team 29

LONG Sam 60


Macduffs team 29

MacEWEN Neville 5

Maia School 57

Malone Joe 31

marching girls 28

marching teams 28

marching uniforms 28

MARSH Dorothy 62

Grace 63

Harold 61

MASSEY William 43

Massey's Cossacks' 43

Matamata Junior High 30

MATEER Hugh 12

Mati School 30

MAXWELL Brian 31




McLEOD Florrie 29

Milford Sound 52

milk bar 5

Millars bakery 52

miners 39

Miners' Union 43

Moonlight Gully 40

Morse Code 56

motoring (1920s) 64

MUNZ Peter 7

Murchison Police Station 66


NAC 52

Napier 4

NELSON Elsie 53

nuclear submarine 7

NZ Dominion 34

NZ Forest Service 52

NZ Larbour Party 39

NZ Marching & Rec. Assn 28

NZ Marching Assn 28

NZ Socialist Party 43


Opera House 5

Opua block 61

Oruawharo River 61

Otago 28


Pakarae 25

PAYZE children 31

Peria district 30

Philosophical Expedition 54

phonograph 18

photographer (Ellerbeck) 22

photographer (Marsh) 61

physical education 33

Pines, The 6

Pinkney's Store 53

PLUNKET Governor 21

Plunket Shield cricket 5

POTTS Jean 31

Reece 31

POW conditions 14

POW food parcels 15

preserving (fruit) 49

preserving jars 49

prisoner of war 10

Progressive Readers 31

publicity 1, 51



radio 16

radio comedies 16

radio kitsets 18

radio quizzes 16

radio serials 16

rationing coupons (WWII) 69

Read's Quay 21

records 19

Red Cross 15

'Red Feds' 43


RNZ Navy 60


Tom 31


Royal Hotel 67

Royal Oak 36

Royal Oak Hotel (Auckland) 36

Royal Oak Pharmacy 36

rugby 5

Runanga Coal Mine 43


Sargettes team 29

SAVAGE Michael 43

scab' workers 45

SCHMIDT Genrel 11

School Journal 32

school monitors 32



Shegadeen's Store 60


George 48

Greta (Margaret) 48

shipping Aquilla 11

Dundonald 54

Gradisca 14

Graf Spee 47

Hinemoa 54

HMNZS Achillies 46

HMS Herald 54

HMS Neptune 46

Regina 48

USS Halibut 7

SHONE Phil 16


SKURR John 25

Skyline Cabaret 6

SMITH Merv 16

Social Democratic Party 44

Southland 1, 50

Southland Times Co. 51

St Georges Primary School 52

STABLES Constance 58

Dulcie 60

Harry 58

Ray 60

Star Boating Club 4

Station 4YZ 53

steamers 51


Stewart Island 54

strike (1908) 39

Surah Beach 1

SWAYNE Bertha 31

SWAYNE Jean 31

Sylvan Cove 54


Taramakau Bridge 64

Te Wheau 59

teacher training 7

telephone operator 56

Thornbury School 56

Thornbury telephone exchange 56

Thos. Dwyer 18

Timaru 64

Tokomaru Bay 25

toll calls 57

TOOGOOD Selwyn 16

TOWNLEY Major John 21

traction engine 27, 57

trains 20

Treaty of Waitangi 54


tributism 45

Tweedsmuir Intermediate 52


Uncle Tom 16

Union Line shipping 50

unions 39

United Labour Party 43

Unity Conference (1912) 43


Victoria University 5

von Langsdorf Capt. Hans 47


Waihi Miners 43

Waimakariki River 65

Waitaha Valley School 68

WALSH Eddie 34


Mona 31

Watties tinned food 5

WEBB Paddy 43

Weir House Hostel 5


Wellington 4

Wellington (marching team) 29

Wellington Winter Show 28

Wellsford Motors 60

West Coast 38, 64

Westport 34

Whangara 23

Whangara Hotel 23

Wharehine 58

WHITE Mr W.B (Brian) 46

WILLIAMS Edward 54


Williamson Construction 53

WITHEFORD Constance 58

Guy 59

Isobel 59

WOOD Eliza 48

World War Two 10, 46

WRIGHT Annie 33

Norrie 33

Ted 33

Wyndham 55




Each issue of New Zealand

Memories contains an index

and, in keeping with genealogy

ideals, all surnames of

individuals are listed in capitals.



Coffee Break

Woman operating a Gaggia espresso machine in Fails Cafe

located at 82 Cashel Street, Christchurch Central c.1955.

Courtesy: Christchurch City Libraries.


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