Individual Details

Reminiscences

Reminiscences of Auckland 1858-1880

by Philip Frank Hannken (1858-1940)
Written c.1935 Chapter One

The following notes are on the very earliest recollections I have of
Auckland. Of course it is possible that some slight errors might have
crept in, I can quite imagine being told this or that and fancying
that I actually saw it, this being one of the tricks time and old age
play on one.

Well, I was born in Queen St in the year 1858. The tide has ebbed &
flowed many times since then, with many changes in it's course in the
harbour brought about by a reclamation, or breakwater, or a new wharf.


Naturally the first few years of my life are a blank with the
exception of things I've been told; for instance on at least two
occasions I tried to end my life by drowning. My first attempt was
very nearly successful. I had got myself head first into a tub of
water; when I was discovered I was beating the air with a pair of
chubby legs, and only rescued just in time.

On the second occasion I found my way into the Ligar Canal through a
hole in the decking (this has already been recorded in the story
Pioneering Days) and it was found necessary to go some distance up the
Street to find a manhole to get in to save me. Fortunately there was
not a great flow of water or I might have been washed into the
harbour.

This so called Ligar Canal was a wooden culvert to carry off the water
of a small stream that ran down the west side of Queen Street;
originally it was a tidal creek, when canoes could get up as far as
Durham Street at high tide. In fact it is recorded that a Kahwai was
caught at this point. This I can quite understand for I have both seen
and hooked these fish when the incoming tide was running over the
stony bar, and so shallow that the fish were generally out of the
water, scrambling over the stones.

But let us get back to my birth place and try to get our bearings, (I
will have to be careful that my tale does not resolve itself into a
succession of fish stories, for fishing has been one of my principle
pastimes all my life).

My parents had a drapery shop in Queen St. It was there that I first
saw the light, and took notice of my surroundings. Let us stroll up
the Street and see who are our neighbours. Next door there is Connel
and Ridings' auction room, above that Mrs Pollock's butcher shop. I
don't know why it was called Mrs's Pollock's (for I believe there was
a MR Pollock), perhaps it was because she was always seen serving the
customers.

One thing I'd like to mention, the method they had of cutting up the
meat for sausages. In a metal frame was fitted a number of curved
knife blades. The meat was placed on the block and the cutter was
rocked like a cradle. I've often thought since, we must have eaten
quite a lot of that butcher's block in the form of end grain.

There was also a large butchery in this block at one time, Dornwell's.
The only thing I can associate with that establishment is begging a
bit of fat to catch rates. Can you imagine three or four youngsters
about five years old marching into the shop, "Please Mr Dornwell will
you give us a bit of fat to catch rats?".

At this time it was usual to have gratings let into the footpaths in
the front of buildings to give light and air to the basements. Our
fishing grounds down these gratings were well stocked with rodents who
freely took the bait, but never the hook; we were certainly optimistic
if we thought to catch them with hook and line.

Above Dornwells I remember a small barber shop. The tonsorial artist
was known as the Mt Eden Barber; it was said that if they were short
of a good barber in Mt Eden Gaol, the police would run him in and so
he received the above name, which he in no way resented, but when he
got his freedom he was often heard complaining of the state of the
tools of his trade as he found them at his country residence.

In my mind's eye I can also see a seed and produce store but the only
thing I can remember about it is a huge pumpkin which stood just
inside the door. It certainly was the largest I had ever seen.

It must be understood that I don't suppose that these establishments
were all there at the same time, but they were certainly all there in
my early childhood.

My grandmother had a grocer shop just round the corner in Wyndham
Street, but of this I have no personal knowledge, I rather think it
was before my time.

Chapter Two

Crossing Wyndham Street we find Vailes' drapery store. This is a large
establishment with frontage to both streets. The position is now
occupied by the National Bank.

On reaching Victoria Street we stop to admire the Union Bank of
Australia, for many years considered to be the most beautiful building
in Queen Street. I don't know when it was built but to me it seemed to
have been always there.

But let us cross over to the other corner now known as the City
Chambers. Here the whole atmosphere fairly bristles with history. Long
before my time it was connected with the law, whether as courthouse or
gaol I cannot say but I think most probably the latter, for at least
one or two persons were executed here, and only the preliminary
arrangements are carried out in the court, to be finalised in the
gaol.

At the period of which I write, the law was represented by a row of
iron cages running level with the footpath and well filled with stray
dogs. There was also a public pound on the corner of Elliott and
Victoria Streets. It was here on one occasion that I saw a policeman
trying to shoot a horse with a pistol, the calibre evidently being too
light for the job. At last he procured a gun and put the poor creature
out of it's misery.

But to return to the corner, we find the dogs gone, and a basement
converted into a sort of market with steps leading down from both
Queen and Victoria Streets.

I know of only one business down there; it was conducted by one Harry
Watts, a man of very short stature but not lacking in business
ability. His stock in trade consisted of ham, bacon, cheese and other
edible products and readily found purchasers especially on Saturday
night.

Again the scene is changed, and the top story is now a theatre, known
as the City Hall. But change is not satisfied yet. So at last we find
it converted into a business block from basement to attic, and known
as the City Chambers.

Before leaving Victoria Street we will cross over and have a look at
Quick's stables. These were situated on the site now occupied by
Sargood, Son & Swan's warehouse, extending through to Durham Street.
Many coaches with mails and passengers, and with the help of
Hardington's and other stable proprietors, helped to solve the
transport service of that time, although much of the carrying and
traffic went by water, for there were many fine cutters and schooners
running to settlements on the coast, although steamers were beginning
to compete with them.

From Victoria Street, looking east we get a good view of Barrack Hill,
generally with a flock of geese feeding on the luxuriant grass of that
wonderful soil. On returning to Queen Street let us go down on the
east side. The Grey-Hound Hotel occupied the corner opposite the Union
Bank. This public house had rather a bad reputation, but I think most
of the hotels were only drinking places for which the laxity, or the
want of proper licensing laws was responsible. But although temperance
parties did much to improve matters, after all it was public opinion
that brought our hotels to the present state of which we are justly
proud.

Next to the Grey-Hound a right-of-way led to a large livery and bait
stables. I don't remember the name of the proprietor, but I always
associate those stables with a large flock of pigeons which made Queen
Street their feeding ground. In passing we glance up Durham Street, a
rather large building faces us; this is the High Street Independent
Chapel, which was the first place of worship I remember. The minister
was the Rev Alexander Macdonald, who was also a homeopathic doctor. In
his dual role he played quite a part in my life; I don't know if he
christened me, but he preached to me, attended when I was sick, and
married me.

This chapel was peculiar in some respects. For instance, the pulpit
was very high approached by quite a tall set of steps. Perhaps this
was necessary for all the seats were lockup pews, and a short person
had to stretch his neck to see the parson; a set of silk curtains
enclosed the choir, for what purpose I never knew. The Sunday school,
a small building at the back, was perched on the side of Barrack hill
and reached by wooden steps. Mr S. Hague Smith was superintendent.

There was also a Methodist church near the corner of Chancery lane,
now "Chancery Street", which was later changed to a police court.

As we walk down Queen Street, just below Durham Street a noise
attracts our attention. We find it's only the nine-pins knocked over
in Williamson's bowling alley.

Next door we find our principle place of amusement, the Prince of
Wales Theatre. There are two things connected with this theatre which
stand out prominently in my mind. One night during the visit of the
Duke of Edinburgh [May 1869] to New Zealand he attended a performance.
Of course the place was especially decorated.

Before describing these decorations, it will be as well to give some
idea of the lay-out of the building. The ground floor consisted of an
entrance hall, with the back portion a grain store. From either side
of the hall stairways led to different parts of the theatre above. Now
for the decorations - they consisted of two strings of coloured oil
lamps stretched from corner to corner of the hall. How we stared open
mouthed at these wonders! During the Royal visit there was no scarcity
of decorations in Queen Street in the form of greenery, much no doubt
coming from the domain or the cemetery gully.

The other point which stands out in my mind belongs to a much later
date; this is the picture: a band playing the Valentine gallop, at the
upstairs window that fine cornetist and musician Mr McCornish sitting
on the sill, one foot keeping time in mid-air.

Chapter Three

In the last chapter I mentioned Mr McCornish and his band playing at
the open windows of the theatre. Even before that time it was a common
practise to have a band playing outside any place of amusement to
attract the crowd half-an-hour before the performance started. It was
a good thing too, livening up the otherwise dull streets, which were
dull indeed after the shops closed leaving only the poor lighting of
the street lamps. One thing that helped to darken the town was that
every shop closed it's windows securely with shutters at night taking
them down in the morning.

But if the streets were wanting in light there certainly was no lack
of noise. All hotels kept open till 12 o'clock and as closing time
drew near the revellers could be heard making their way home,
generally toward the waterfront. Writing of one particular night, I
was allowed to stay up long enough to see Father go off with his great
gun over his shoulder to help to man the block-house in the Domain.
These posts were placed at different points to guard against a
surprise visit from hostile natives. They consisted of a small shed
with boards slopping up to the back wall and a round block on the top
for a headrest. With such comfortable beds they were not likely to
sleep at their posts. Being well used to the street noise I was soon
asleep, only to be awakened by the plaintive cry of the night watchman
"one o'clock and all's well!"

But again my slumbers are disturbed by the clanging of the fire bells.
With my teeth chattering I go to the window where the bright glare in
the sky denotes a conflagration of large dimensions but some distance
away. But near or far there was only one thing would check that fire -
viz nothing left to burn. It was not that there were no fire fighting
appliances; there was a manual engine where able-bodied men got one
and sixpence an hour pumping when there was any water to pump, and we
must give the engine credit for always tackling the seat of the fire
as the water would never reach above the first story. One thing I
omitted to mention, when the alarm was given quite a number of men
made straight for the fire station to help to drag the engine to the
scene of the fire. Many years later they had horses so wonderfully
trained that when the alarm bell rang at the station they literally
walked into their harness.

Perhaps it would be well to show the actual position of my birth
place. I have already stated that the Auction Mart was our neighbour,
that is going up the street. Next below was Partington's store, the
same firm that owned that grand old landmark, the windmill, which
still overlooks the city from it's commanding position.

We children had every reason to remember that store for we were often
regaled in there with a biscuit as large as a cheese plate and well
covered with either currents or dark brown sugar. Next to Partington's
and on the corner of West Queen Street, (now Swanson St), stood
Gundrey's chemist shop. Going up West Queen St we find Christopher's
grocery store, their yard forming the back boundary of our place. Next
above Hazel's barber shop and right opposite is Carrol's blacksmith
shop with the usual collection of wheels, old carts and scrap iron in
every form from a needle to an anchor. But we must not forget Mammy
Dillon, or rather her famous lolly-sticks! Some of my sisters declared
you could see little hairs on them that came off Mammy's apron on
which she rolled them into shape but I always found that the girls
never refused a piece when it was offered.

On the lower corner of the street opposite the chemist shop stood the
Cosmopolitan Hotel. A rather amusing thing happened here. One morning
a bull was being dragged behind a dray when it broke loose and made
straight for the side door of the hotel. He crashed through a glass
door into the bar, but the barmaid refusing to serve him he left by
the front door after knocking over the screen that stood on the floor
inside the bar.

Shortland Crescent, now known as Shortland Street, once ran along the
top of the cliff at the waterfront but now is far inland. From High
Street to Princess Street the grade is very steep but in spite of that
it was quite a busy thoroughfare with many business places on the
corner of Queen Street. Somerville had a large grocery store giving
the site the name of Somerville's corner. Right opposite the Post
Office which has been removed stood the Q.C.E. Hotel1. I think the
letters meant quality, civility and economy. I remember on one
occasion seeing a live turtle outside this hotel with this notice
painted on his shell "Turtle soup to-day". I wondered how often he
would wade through the soup to flavour it.

It would be quite useless looking for my first home. It disappeared
many years ago to make room for an addition to the bank. Now the bank
building has received it's death warrant and must make room for a
larger building all showing the great progress our city is making.

Chapter Four

I think I made it plain in the last chapter where my birth place stood
so now we can continue to climb up Shortland Crescent, but before we
tackle the steep part let us have a look at the Post Office. There is
no need to describe it for it is the same building that has just been
demolished. We can all remember the fine heads at the base of the
arches. At one time some vandal mutilated some of the faces. I cannot
remember all the damage that was done but I know he broke the nose off
poor old Queen Victoria, and although plastic surgery was not known
then the sculptor repaired all the damage quite skilfully. About this
time Ireland was in a very disturbed state, many riots occurring
between the different factions and it was thought that perhaps the
Fenians were responsible for the damage to the Royal personages at the
Post Office.

Retail shops were well represented in the street at this time. There
was even a butcher's shop. There is a story told of this butcher. He
had a grievance against a government official so he named his dog
after this gentleman and always reprimanded him in very strong
language when the official passed the shop introducing the dog's name
as often as possible.

In later years practically all the shops made way for warehouses and
offices. Near the top of the Street stood the Southern Cross building.
At one time a party of blue-jackets threatened to pull the building
over, they taking objection to an article that appeared in that paper.
The Southern Cross, published in the morning, was for some time a
rival of the New Zealand Herald but at last they became amalgamated.

As we near the top of the hill St. Paul's church gradually comes into
view. This perhaps is one of the oldest churches in Auckland. It's
position at the foot of Princes Street is one of the most beautiful,
commanding a view of all the Hauraki Gulf as far as the Barrier with
it's many islands, like gems, displayed on a green velvet ground.

But alas, like many of the grand old landmarks it had to go - just
another victim to that giant - Progress. Although the contour of the
land is all altered, the monument to the Rev Churton still stands in
it's old position on a small part of the site now forming a reserve.

St Paul's church, which replaced the old building, is in Symonds
Street opposite the top of Wellesley Street east.

Crossing over Princes Street we notice a road going down on the other
side of the ridge. Should we go to the lowest part then turn to the
left it leads us to the waterfront and to the Wynyard Pier, one of the
oldest landings in Auckland. It was chiefly used by the boats from the
warships but fishermen dried their nets on the handrail and it was
also a favourite fishing ground for garfish or "piper" which was
caught on rod & line, half a gross for one tide being considered a
fair catch.

But as it is not our intention at present to explore the waterfront we
shall stick to the high road. Now what was that funny little place on
the corner? That? Why that was the Auckland Post Office! Of course all
the postal business is now carried on in the new building at the foot
of Shortland Street. I imagine this little place must have been
Aucklands first Post Office, it reminds one of a back-blocks public
house but I see it is to go to be replaced by a Museum which in turn
is transferred to that huge building at the Domain, a home worthy of
it's valuable contents.

The Northern Club on the other side of the street is, I think, much
the same in appearance as it was when the Duke of Edinburgh visited
New Zealand. You notice those stone urns on the parapet. On the
occasion of the Royal visit these were fed at night with tar or pitch
which flamed high or gave off columns of black smoke.

Let us get along and peep into the Barrack's gate. The last regiment
of British soldiers are housed there soon to leave our shores, our
defence then falling on our own shoulders. We dare not go too near the
gate for the sentry is marching up and down with his gun over his
shoulder and that terrible bayonet on the end of it. But we can see
the soldiers drilling and their wives gossiping with their arms on
their hips or nursing a baby.

On leaving Princes Street we took a short-cut down Barrack Hill
keeping a sharp lookout for a ram that grazed there. This gentleman
had a playful habit of knocking children over; in fact he was reputed
to have a very vicious nature. But we saw nothing of him.

Going through a little crooked lane beside the Methodist church we
passed a low rambling building. I think it was called the Mechanics'
Institute. I know that they held meetings there but have no idea what
they were about.

But it is time to get home so we will pass through the original pig
tracks, Chancery Lane, High Street and Vulcan lane. Whoever was
responsible for these and many other similar narrow thoroughfares left
a wonderful legacy to the later generations. Already thousands have
been spent by the city councils in widening these streets. Just fancy
High Street as wide as Queen Street, really two main Streets running
parallel connected by two wide roads instead of such passages as
Durham Street and Vulcan lane. Strange to say, in the very early days,
High Street was almost as busy a centre as Queen Street but a fire
practically wiped out the whole business area.

What are all the cabs doing in the middle of the road? Oh, that is a
regular cab stand. There are several up the Street, also some allotted
to the expresses and spring carts. We can also see a number of
hand-cart men on the corners. They play quite a large part in
delivering light loads to the shipping or about the town.

We will cross over. As we pass through the ranks of the cabs we are
accosted with the cry "Cab sir?, Cab?", although we did not look like
cab patrons.

But what is this dark looking place on the corner of Fort Street? It
appears to be a bit below the road. Oh it's William's ship chandlery.
In later years I often went there for a special oil that Grandmother
used in her night light. The common form of light used then was known
as a floater; it consisted of a glass of oil and a wooden disc with a
wick through the centre floating on the surface. When the upper wick
was lighted it would burn all night fed from the oil below.

As we pass along Fort Street we find we are walking in a half circle.
This curve corresponds with that of Shortland Crescent and is the
natural contour of Commercial Bay. At the head of the bay stands a
stone building known as Graham's Bond. I have no idea when it was
built but it will probably last for many generations. When I was a boy
a cannon on either side of the door, placed on end to protect the
stone edges, always attracted my attention. Passing on round the curve
we notice Lamb's flour mill (not far from Fischer's steps later known
as Jacob's Ladder). This mill was later incorporated in the Roller
Mill.

The tall flight of steps going up the face of the cliff near Fort
Britomart was known as Fischer's steps because a great homeopathic
doctor of that name lived at the top. There is no doubt he was a very
clever man for while he was in Auckland he had many great cures to his
credit. Just to quote one case - my father had some chest trouble so
they sent for a doctor. After a careful examination he shook his head
and pulled a face as long as a fiddle suggesting he would like to
consult with a couple of army doctors. When the three met there was
more head shaking. The verdict was "one lung gone, the other hanging
on a thread".

Although the case seemed hopeless it was decided to call in Dr
Fischer. After he had made a thorough overall of the patient Mother
met him and enquired is there any hope. Doctor: "Why bless you, he
will be out in a day or two. You see he has a bad cold and a slight
touch of pleurisy but we will soon fix him up". And sure enough Father
met the first Doctor in Queen Street, "What, Mr H. you about again?
Peoples lungs seem to get diseased and grow again". "No Doctor", said
Father, "I've one on a thread, it's a waxed end".

Seeing that father died at the age of eighty-two that thread must have
lasted at least forty years.

These remarks on the merits of the Doctor were suggested by seeing a
photograph of him in an old album. There were also many other old
colonists there. Just to name a couple - Mr Beeson of Beesons Island,
Coromandel, Mr and Mrs Brophy who kept the post office in Newton and a
score of others perhaps not so well known.

But to return to Fischer's steps, it's a pretty stiff climb to the top
but we'll tackle it. Once safely up we see the Doctor's house to the
right among the trees and a little higher up and to the left, Fort
Britomart, our principal defence against foreign invasion.

Those great guns, which we consider capable of blowing a foreign
warship out of the water if she will only come close enough, and the
conical stacks of cannon balls all ready to feed those great guns!

After carefully descending the steps we reach the road that enclosed
the bay giving the enclosed part the name "The Intake". It was divided
into two parts, a road running through from Fort Street to the street
across the bay, the name of the latter being, I presume, Customs
Street as it was a continuance of that thoroughfare.

Of the two lakes thus formed the one nearest Queen St was almost
completely filled up with the refuse from the town. The other was
still a fair body of water when the tide was in. When the tide was out
it was a reeking mud hole.

To appreciate the aroma of these cesspits it only required the tide
out and a north or east wind. To allow the tide to enter the intake
bricked arches were built into the outer road way.

As the intake was a free tip it received a great variety of rubbish
from four hundred gallon tanks to paper match boxes. The vegetable
kingdom was also well represented in cabbage leaves, potato peelings
etc from hotels and restaurants. So when a shipment of American apples
was condemned being badly affected with codlin moth the authorities
carefully placed them there for the convenience of the public. A small
boy has a wonderful nose for an apple and soon arrived on the scene
with kits, bags and box-carts and in a short time the whole shipment
was cleared and the moth was well distributed over a large area and
one more pest was introduced into the country.

Reminiscences

Reminiscences of Auckland 1858-1880

by Philip Frank Hannken (1858-1940)
Written c.1935


- Chapters Six to Eight and the start of Chapter Nine are lost -
(pages 23-37 of the original manuscript)

Chapter Nine

... steersman. I don't know why they rowed in this unbalanced fashion,
unless in hunting the whale it was often necessary to turn quickly, or
perhaps the extra man would handle the harpoon.

Of course they had the greasy boom and other aquatic sports going on
at intervals and there was to be a grand Maori war dance at the North
Shore for a finish.

Some of the young men wanted to take the girls across to see the
dance, but Father, who came to New Zealand in 1839, and had seen many
war dances did not think them suitable entertainment for ladies but I
persuaded the young men to take me. It was a wonderful sight. That
rag-time effect was again noticeable in their dancing. After a
grunting sort of noise the limb movement came immediately, right
against the measure yet they all moved as one man.

As I grew older I could see that the Maori dances were not suitable
sights for mixed company but now they have been modernised and all
suggestive features cut out and are as harmless as a choir practice.

Well, the Regatta is over, to be followed by challenges from all who
thought that with more wind or less wind they would have won.

We return home red faced and tired but happy and after a scrap tea the
young men clear the dining room and to the music of Father's violin
dance till after midnight. Next day business as usual.

Before leaving the water front we will have a look along the shore. To
the west from Albert Street there is quite a number of boats
undergoing repairs, some having the copper stripped off to allow
re-chalking.

As boys we collected the old so called copper nails. We were always
going to sell them, but like most boys' treasures they disappeared
somehow. Looking back now I think the boats must have been on skids
for although the tide came well up they would still have to have some
means of launching.

At low tide we can get around to Freeman's Bay but even as late as the
seventies the tide washed up against the cliff at the bottom of Hobson
Street.

At Freeman's Bay it was necessary to go over the hill behind what was
later called Patterson St. About where the destructor now stands a
bluff point ran out into the bay; it is said that a block-house stood
on this point to guard against the hostile natives landing at night.

Once over the hill we strike the junction of three streets coming down
into the bay: Union Street, Franklin Road and Collage Hill. This road
continues on the level across the bay and is faced with a stone wall
to keep the tide from encroaching. But in spite of it at high tide a
lake forms behind the Rob Roy Hotel at the foot of Franklin Road. At
the far end of the Bay not far from the bottom of Collage Hill a small
patch is reclaimed, chiefly from saw-dust. On this a man is cutting
firewood into blocks with horse power driving a circular saw. Neddy is
blind folded and walks in a circle. He must think it's a long way to
Tipperary.

Looking out into the bay you see the remains of several derelicts. I
suppose they are now helping to hold up the cricket pitches in
Victoria Park.

When returning at the foot of Drake Street (Victoria Street West) we
notice a pungent smell and discover it is coming from a bone mill
situated at the bottom of Wellesley Street, and people living all
round it. Yet when Auckland experienced an epidemic of typhoid fever
Freemans's Bay was quite free.

I think I remarked in an earlier chapter that I did not wish to
inflict a fish story on you but I think a few uncommon happenings
might prove interesting. I've heard it said if you don't blow your own
trumpet no one will blow it for you. So I'll start thus. I had the
good fortune to be one of a party of four who hold the record for
fishing in the harbour. With four lines we caught over five hundred
schnapper and only stopped when our fingers were sore and the yacht
very low in the water. The greater part of our catch we gave to the
watermen who would sell them to the dealers.

There was a foreigner on the waterfront known as Frenchey. He had a
method of his own for catching sprats. From a flat bottom boat he
would hold a loaf of stale bread in the water with his left hand
breaking out the crumbs. As the fish dived their heads into the loaf,
with his right hand he lifted then into the boat, only taking the
largest.

On one occasion when the Auckland Dock was pumped out, there was a
number of fish trapped that were shovelled into baskets and hoisted up
with the winch, the hawkers carting them away and selling them for
sixpence a bucket.

Coming up the wharf one evening I saw the watermen dipping the fish
into the boat with a bucket. These fish we called Mackerel, I think
they are really Pilchards. I have seen a shoal of these fish swim
against the tide with their heads out of the water and in the sunshine
looking like a sheet of silver. A short time ago they were going to
turn them into sardines and capture the world markets. They certainly
made a start for I read where they had put down a number of barrels
but the whole thing seems to have fizzled out, so perhaps they were
only wild cat fish after all.

In a personal note in a previous chapter I mentioned that I had spent
some time in Coromandel. Father having a business in Auckland
necessitated occasional trips to town which we did in the cutter
Wanderer. On one trip we were becalmed. The sea was as smooth as
glass, only the ocean swell like a giant breathing, when suddenly a
school of sharks appeared on the surface. As far as the eye could see
the dorsal fins were slowing moving through the water. These fish were
all sizes and reminded one of the regatta in Auckland Harbour, the
fins representing sails.

While living at the Thames we had a heavy storm which blew off the
land. During that blow hundreds of Gurnod came ashore. It is said that
the fish always swim against the wind, it would appear to be true in
this case, and the water inshore being always dirty from the batteries
they could not breath, and were easily taken.

I will only inflict one more of these fish yarns on you. While in
Rotorua in the eighties, I was greatly amused at the children's method
of fishing. The lake was well stocked with Carp (gold fish). The
youngsters, their brown bodies shining like polished mahogany would
form a ring round the fish and herd them together like sheep, then
fall on their stomachs grabbing the fish with both hands.

Chapter Ten

It will be seen from what I have written that the young city had made
considerable progress since 1840 (about twenty-five years) in spite of
Maori wars and other drawbacks. But when I returned from the Thames in
1875 after an absence of seven years I hardly knew the place, it had
gone ahead in leaps and bounds. Commercial Bay was almost all
reclaimed out as far as the Watermans steps, practically to the
present line. New wharves were being built to accommodate the ever
increasing shipping.

The Frisco Boats, Nevada and Nebraska made regular trips carrying the
mails. The S.S. Hero was also a frequent visitor bringing sugar from
Australia, our own refinery being erected later.

Although there were a few steamers most cargoes came in sailing
vessels.

Much of the progress made while I was away was due to the gold
discoveries. People from all parts rushed here, many from Australia.
It was this boom that saved Auckland from total collapse.

Perhaps you remember me mentioning the firm of Quicks in Victoria
Street. This firm, about this time, imported two modern Ferry boats.
These iron craft came out in sections, the parts being assembled here.
I don't know who had the contract but they duly arrived on the
waterfront, a challenge to the North Shore Ferry Company. The names of
these boats, the Eagle and Osprey, both birds of prey were no doubt
named so, meaning the opposition boats to be their victims.

The war went on for a considerable time, fares were reduced and again
reduced until it looked as if they would pay the public to travel and
perhaps give them tea and cakes, but I think it stopped at a penny a
trip.

But the birds of prey were doomed from the start for the North Shore
Ferry had a number of shareholders and almost all the population of
Devonport had family annual or other concession tickets.

So the original company bought the boats. Since then they have named
all the new boats after aggressive birds. The originals have long
since gone to Davy Jones' locker, although they both proved useful
boats to the old company in their time. After running them both in the
ferry service for a while, the Osprey, after extensive alterations was
transferred to the Kaipara taking up the running between there and
Helensville. I presume she was sold to a northern company for I don't
think the Ferry company had interests so far from home.

The present Devonport Ferry Company is the old North Shore Ferry under
a new name.

Of course with the discovery of gold there was a great demand for
steamers for the Thames trade. The Enterprise was altered to fit her
for the service. Another which was I think called the Maori Chief was
brought overland from the Manukau by a bullock team of thirty yoke.
But the Duke of Edinburgh was a better and more suitable boat
altogether with better accommodation and a faster service.

But pride of place must be given to the Golden Crown. I think she was
the fastest boat for her size we ever had in these waters. Her engines
it was said were so powerful that they could not be used to their full
strength, her frame would not stand it, yet on one occasion when she
had the Governor aboard she made the trip in the record time of two
hours and three quarters. The usual time taken by the other steamers
being four hours. On account of her drawing so much water she could
not use the long pier known as Curtise's Wharf at Graham's Town but
had to berth at Tararu where there was deeper water.

On the occasion of the Governor's visit, the Thames Volunteers were to
muster at the Railway Station (a coal shed) to proceed by train to
meet his Excellency. This train consisted of an upright donkey engine
and quartz trucks but they never made that trip for the steamer
arrived at Tararu before the volunteers met at Graham's Town.

When the passenger trade slackened this speedy steamer went to
Australia where she did good service on the coast for a number of
years.

In later years the Whakatere with her genial skipper Captain Farquar
gave excellent service. She was a paddle steamer of shallow draught
and well found in every detail.

The gold attracted many others than miners, many who expected to get
money out of the public without digging; buskers (street musicians) of
many kinds from the modest barrel organ upward.

But there were also Artists who occupied every hall and theatre.

One society entertainer who was very popular at this time was
Thatcher. To old tunes he wrote topical songs on popular subjects of
the time. I'll give a couple of examples that I remember:

Have you heard the news of late
About a mighty crowd so great
All parting with their real estate
To rush to Coromandel
Tune "Hokey, Pokey, Winkey, Wong"
On the corner of Wellesley and Albert Streets a second hand dealer
"George Stains" had a wonderful stock of goods of all kinds. He was
really in a big way of business and naturally well known. Thatcher
made use of him in the following ditty

And then to Stains the broker
Came one old aged spinster
And asked him what he'd give her
For her parlour kidder-minster
Then she said she'd sell
All her tables and her chairs
And turn her feather bed
Into a lot of mining shares
For we're all cranky, mad, mad, cranky
All suffering from quartz upon the brain
Tune - "We're all Nodding"
Chapter Eleven

A boy in his teens is not, I think, as observant as a younger one but
still I do miss some of the old landmarks and things that once
interested me. For instance I miss the troops marching along the ridge
on Sunday morning's church parade and the music of the band each
morning playing for the officers mess.

But the soldiers and band are gone. A few elected to stay and go on
the land granted to them by the Government. These pensioners were
lucky in getting some of the best land near the city viz Onehunga,
Otahuhu, Panmure and other good spots, and with cultivation soon were
able to supply the town with vegetables.

Naturally there were some odd characters among them. One couple used
to supply a number of hotels. The old woman arrayed in a white sun
bonnet did the driving. She always pulled up the horse before they
reached the hotel, then handing the reins to the old man went to
solicit an order. As soon as she disappeared he started to urge the
horse forward until he got opposite the hotel door. Then stooping down
he would peep into the bar. The old lady, bringing out a pint pot,
gave him one sip but never letting go of the handle. Returning home
the old man was the only one fit to drive.

In a previous chapter I mentioned that some of my observations might
have been of later dates and now some may belong to the earlier time.
For instance, I was very young when the following occurred. All the
young men of the community had been armed and sent to the front but I
dont think they did any fighting.

An intended brother-in-law was one of those who had to go. When they
marched out of town, my brother carried his gun for him as far as
Kyber Pass and I trotted along beside them.

I believe their first halt was at Otahuhu where they were regaled with
rum and biscuits well infected with weevils. Of course these boys
coming from good homes could not eat such food but drank the rum which
proved to be a fine destroyer of discipline. After that the company
marched in go as you please formation.

I was told a story of a bet made while they were in camp. One young
fellow bet he would go out after dark and fry some bacon. Well, he won
that bet but being a Jew only his mates enjoyed his cooking.

Although there was still occasionally trouble with the Maori the war
was practically over and the local troops were soon back home.

About this time the Volunteer movement was becoming very popular, all
branches of the service being well represented and each having their
own band. They made a fine show on a field day; the Naval band
consisted of drum and fifes but all the others had brass bands with a
few wood-wind instruments.

I think the popularity of the volunteer movement was due in a great
measure to lack of other amusements. Dancing of course was indulged in
by old and young, while sports meetings and horse racing always drew
large crowds, the bookmaker being a great attraction.

Cricket was not much above bat and ball, and football but little
better but both of these games made rapid improvement especially when
better playing grounds were provided.

The volunteer movement was financed by the government on the
capitation principle. To qualify you had to be perfect in your drill
and attend a certain number of parades. I'm afraid a good number of
absentees were marked present for the benefit of the funds of the
company.

There were two champion belts competed for once a year: the carbine
(left by the Naval Brigades, they being armed with that weapon) and
the rifle belt (by all the other branches of the service). These belts
were only held for a year (unless won three times in succession) but
they carried a good money prize as well.

The cadet movement was in full swing, practically every school having
its company. The seniors' used carbines similar to the navals, but the
juniors had only wooden guns, but all were in uniform, and as they
grew up no doubt helped to fill the ranks of the adult corps.

The Albert Barracks was now principally used for sports meeting. Those
great professionals Hewitt, Harris & Birde gave exhibitions there, the
first two in sprint races, the latter in the long distances.

Several circus shows were held there. One (I think it was), Cooper and
Bayleys had what they called a steam piano. This vile screeching
monster could be heard all over Auckland.

Another show went by the high sounding name of the "Hippodrome". I
think its chief attraction was chariot races.

The following pictures are both taken from the same spot. We will call
them the ancient and the modern. The ancient, a circus in Albert
Barracks. A young woman (Maggie) sitting on a front seat; beside her a
young man (George). This is her fiancee. They are both twenty-one and
are to be married next month. Maggie, a splendidly developed young
woman where physical exercises consist of making five beds every
morning, scrubbing floors, sweeping carpets and all the other
household duties. She even finds time to practice her new piece
("Silvery Waves") on the piano. She is making what is called a good
match, for George is a journeyman carpenter receiving seven shillings
a day. We will leave them there hand in hand enjoying the show, the
air reeking of orange peel and sawdust, the only aroma ever found at a
circus.

The modern - a spring day in Albert Park - an up to date young lady
(Sheila); we find her resting on the velvety turf having come from the
stuffy office for the luncheon hour, hoping to meet one of the boys
who might ask her to go to a dance or the pictures. She must have
excitement, but is not to blame for that - it's the age she is living
in. Ah well! she will have some lunch. Opening a small case she takes
out a parcel about the size of a cake of scented soap, opens it,
nibbles the corner of a piece of cake, then throws the rest away to be
enjoyed by the waiting sparrows. She now rises languidly to return to
the office, the beauty of the park and the glorious perfume from the
flowers all unnoticed by her.

Chapter Twelve

I have no idea when the Barrack wall was demolished but I think it
very likely that it was while I was at the Thames.

I presume the City Fathers were responsible for securing that
wonderful spot right in the heart of the city for a flower garden and
park.

It must not be thought that the indifference shown by the flapper in
the last chapter was in any way general. Thousands from offices or
shops and many who had a little time to spare would spend it looking
round the flower beds or sitting on one of the seats enjoying the
wonderful view and breathing the pure air straight from the sea.

Another glorious spot, the Domain, is remembered by many elderly
people as the place where they as children went to the Sunday School
Feast, with a pannikin or mug tied round the waist, and marched
bravely behind their school banners. One of the features was the
swings under those grand old Manukas. Many of those trees have been
felled which I consider a crime.

But perhaps I am not competent to pass judgement on those responsible
for the removal of the trees for even the greatest forest giants
cannot last forever and seeing that it is at least sixty years since I
had a swing from their branches, some of them might have suffered from
senile decay and so had become dangerous.

It is not my intention to describe the many parks and recreation
grounds with which we are blessed (many the gifts of patrons) but
rather to show how to build a park out of mud.

Victoria Park being a good example, we will devote our attention to
that locality. But before going on with building it is necessary to
state that on the southern shore of the harbour (Auckland side) there
is deep mud but shallow water and it became necessary to dig out the
mud to find berths for the ever increasing shipping.

The Harbour Board procured the bucket dredge "No 121". She was
equipped with an endless chain of iron scoops which could be raised or
lowered according to requirements and hoppers that could be opened or
closed.

For some time she worked night and day and could be heard over all
Auckland grinding and screeching.

At first when she had scooped sufficient mud to fill her two hoppers
she steamed out past Rangitoto where the wedges that fastened the
doors were knocked out and, the hoppers flying open, the mud fell to
the bottom of the sea. The doors were then closed by steam gear and
she came back for another load.

Now this was wasteful as the board was very much in need of filling
for the many reclamations that were projected so it was decided to use
the silt.

It is now we can get back to our park buildings. Instead of the spoil
going into the hoppers it was turned aside into punts which had doors
that opened in a similar manner to those on the dredge, but only by
hand power were they raised into place after discharging. When several
punts were loaded a steam launch towed them into Freeman's Bay to
discharge, and while the water remained deep enough they did very
well, but as it silted up they could not close the doors and this
meant dropping their loads all-over the bay where ever they had water
enough, but when the tide was out this gave the bay the appearance of
a boy with measles - pimples all over the face.

As this method was now useless, the water being too shallow, the
self-discharging punts were superseded by flat decked punts or
pontoons.

While the tide was out men managed to clear a channel so that the
shallow draught punts could be taken some distance up the bay where
they were moored against the bank and the mud thrown in shore with
shovels. This proving not quite satisfactory it was soon discontinued.


In these experiments the trouble had always been that they blocked the
channel. It rather reminded one of Pat cutting through the branch he
was sitting on.

But before we go on with the reclaiming we must mention that beside
the bucket dredge the Harbour Board had a Priestman or Grab. This
contrivance was worked off a float and could be handled by one man.
The jaws of the grab, similar to a rat trap but on a large scale, were
worked with two chains. The open Grab was dropped on the mud and the
act of hoisting closed the jaws bringing to the surface about a yard
of spoil. When above the float the engine made a complete circle
dropping its load on a punt moored alongside in passing.

In the next attempt to fill in the whole area this Grab played a part.


On the edge of the channel (which had been deepened) a structure was
raised to carry a chute well inland. The punts emptied their loads in
front of the Grab which then hoisted the mud into the chute and with
the help of a stream of water washed it off the end near the shore.

I heard it said that this silt which came from the outer birth of the
wharf was a veritable silver mine. Men and boys watched the mud coming
down the chute and collected knives, forks and spoons which had been
thrown over-board with the dish water from different steamers that had
berthed there. I suppose the spoons and forks would be all right but I
don't think the knives would be any use.

As I did not see the finishing of that reclamation I can only presume
that they got sufficient spoil from the site for the Gas Works and
from the cliffs alongside to complete it.

In the modern method the retaining wall is built first, then with a
powerful pump the silt is sucked up and discharged into the enclosed
area.

They are also getting a lot of useful filling from the destructor in
the form of ash, clinker etc which settles into a fine hard surface.

Chapter Thirteen

Bounteous nature has always placed material at hand which man could
use to make a shelter for himself. In the frozen north the Eskimo
utilises the snow while in other countries man uses bark, concrete and
bricks and mortar.

Although New Zealand forests were full of wonderful timbers the Maori
could not use them for building purposes as his crude tools were
useless against these giants, but he found a good substitute in Raupo
(a flat bull rush) with which the swamps were well stocked.

Many of the pioneers on their arrival lived in these Maori houses for
a time, generally managing to get a little better ventilation by
inserting a window.

But it was not long before the song and swish of the bit-saw were
heard in many parts of the country, and those wonderful wooden houses
built of handsome Kauri sprang up like mushrooms. No doubt many would
still be standing but for that destroyer of the antique, "progress". I
lived in one of these houses and found it impossible to drive a nail
into a stud.

With the erection of decent houses they naturally wanted decent
chimneys so soon many brickyards were in full swing. Some of these
were quite close to the city. I saw evidence of one that had been
worked in Cook Street. In its day it was known as Firth's.

Many of the buildings were built with shop-fronts and living
accommodation at the back. Others were what we now call lockup shops.

From earliest times man has made fire his servant but occasionally
this order is reversed and fire becomes the master.

With rows of wooden houses built close together a fire started would
make a clean sweep. One such fire occurred in the year 1858. This
happens to be the year I was born. Whether it happened before my birth
or after I cannot say.

If those in authority had widened the street then, the fire would have
been a blessing in disguise but instead, better buildings were erected
on the old sites so now the cost is much greater when these have to be
demolished.

Our loss in that fire consisted of a basket of clothes which had been
sent to be mangled. Whether burned or stolen was never known.

All the large fires which happened passed into history under the name
of the street in which they occurred; thus we give the Wyndham Street
fire as an example. This blaze, which was before my time, gave Queen
Street people an anxious hour or two. What checked it I don't know -
probably a change of wind.

Father made several trips to see what progress the fire was making. On
one occasion when he returned he found a cart loaded with goods out of
the shop but he was just in time to make that carter put them back
where he got them.

But he had another surprise. Hearing a noise on the roof he discovered
a party of Blue Jackets chopping away the shingles. Perhaps a spark
had fallen there, but there was no sign of fire when Father arrived
and the sailors all disappeared as he reached the top of the ladder,
scuttling off like rabbits.

A big blaze in Shortland Street opposite High Street burned away a big
gap right through to Fort Street, I think it included the Post Office
but I'm not quite sure.

One of my relations, (a small boy cousin), had good cause to remember
that fire. He was poking among the debris as small boys will do, when
some charred planks gave way and he went to his knees in a boiling
cess-pit. He was dreadfully burned and carried the scars all his life.


A story is told of a fire that caused a lot of damage to an old ladies
property. An agent calling to value it asked if she had ever had a
fire before. "Oh no, you see I was never insured before".

Another large fire known as the Queen Street fire started in a small
millinery shop just above the Albert Hotel. This fire, known as the
great Queen Street fire [1865], burned from Darby Street to the
entrance to the old market.

It happened that at this time a waxwork exhibition was showing in
Elliot Street and as there seemed some danger of the building in which
they were exhibited catching fire the figures were removed. As they
were carried through the streets the public were quite sure that they
were victims of the flames, some looking on with horror, others
expressing their sympathy in words and lamentations.

It is quite common for some people to lose their heads during the
excitement of a fire as the following short narrative will show.

When the fire reached the hotel at the corner of Wellesley Street a
barman was seen to carry his apron full of decanters across the
street, empty them on the footpath and go back for more. Never the
less it did not matter very much as the fire was soon across Wellesley
Street and converted the broken decanters into molten glass.

There is the story of the men who, when they had blocked the stairway
with a feather mattress, lowered the piano out of the window on a
clothes-line almost hitting a policeman when it fell.

The following was told by an old lady who owned a well furnished two
storied house.

Being aroused at night with a fire next door she took the trouble to
remove the stair rods and roll up the carpet, the only thing that she
saved.

Reminiscences

Reminiscences of Auckland 1858-1880

by Philip Frank Hannken (1858-1940)
Written c.1935

Chapter Fourteen

Continuing the history of some of these early fires, a number of which
were supposed to have been caused by rats and wax matches, these being
very popular at the time and insurance easy money.

Insurance companies had a strange custom when they insured a place.
They fastened a metal shield on the front of the building, each
company having its own pattern. I dont know what useful purpose these
tin things served unless to show the fire brigade the places that were
most likely to catch fire.

The match and rodent combination had a rival, one Cyras Alley. He had
a grievance against one of the leading citizens, whether right or
wrong I don't know. But he got credit for burning a number of
buildings including the Choral Hall twice, the kerosene store and
other places in which the said citizen had an interest.

I believe the poor beggar was shot when trying to escape from a prison
in the south.

Just to deviate from the fires for a moment and turn to the law.

A rattle of wheels is heard in Victoria Street and a hand-cart crosses
Queen Street, a policeman in the shaft, an old woman on his back as a
passenger. A second policeman behind to push and keep the old woman's
heels down.

We will now give you a modern picture. A well dressed young woman who
had looked on the wine when it was red, was making a nuisance of
herself in Queen Street. A smart young constable (not now a policeman)
is soon on the scene and laying a gloved hand on her arm escorts her
to a large motorcar which had drawn up at the kerb. As they drove off
to the station the young woman was taking the liberty of smacking her
escorts face, much to the amusement of that gentleman.

But we must return to our story of the early fires leaving our lady
friends to be dealt with by the law in due course.

By this time we had quite an efficient fire brigade, also a smart
salvage corps. The brigade was greatly assisted by a good supply of
water from Western Springs. I remember the first time this water was
used at a fire. This was in lower Hobson Street. A man was boiling tar
on an open fire and it boiled over, setting the whole room ablaze and
gave off a dense cloud of black smoke. The brigade was soon on the
scene and turning on the water from a near-by hydrant with a pressure
of about 100 lbs to the square inch the effect was marvellous, like an
extinguisher on a lighted candle, it was and then it wasn't.

In closing this short narrative of my early recollections I'll mention
several fires that occurred at a later date. They were interesting to
me from the fact that I played a part in them.

While strolling with a chum up Hobson Street one evening we were
attracted by a strong smell of burning rags. On investigating we
discovered smoke issuing from between a two-storied double house and a
shop. The double house being unoccupied we went round the back where
we discovered a heap of rags all a red glow. These rags had been piled
up round a jack stud but with a couple of bottles we soon had the fire
out, a tank at the back door supplying us with water.

By this time several other people had been attracted by the smoke so
my chum and I left it to them, not being anxious to attend an inquiry.


At the investigation held later, it was decided that some dead-beat
had been sleeping there. If it was so he must have curled round the
stud like an eel.

About this time my brother and I were doing quite a lot of playing the
dances, often keeping us out late at night. On one occasion when going
down Wellington Street we saw indications of a fire in Hobson Street,
which runs parallel to Wellington Street. We were soon at the scene. A
kitchen was blazing merrily, in fact the whole room was alight from
floor to roof.

Finding an enamel basin and filling it from a tap at the back door I
attacked the fire from the open door.

My brother then mounted the chimney breast, the chimney being built
outside, and as I handed him the basin of water he doused the shingled
roof.

Other help soon arrived including the brigade but I feel but for our
timely efforts there would have been a big fire, for all houses were
built close together and we at least kept it in check.

The next and last, the great Asylum fire, perhaps the most tragic that
ever occured in Auckland.

On this occasion I had been dancing all night, for in those days we
generally finished a ball in broad daylight with the lights turned
off.

I was taking a young lady home and had reached the middle of Newton
when a man on horse-back (I think he was Woodward), bare headed, came
galloping down the road shouting the asylum is on fire. (I'm afraid
that the young lady had to find her way home alone). I ran for the
nearest fire-bell which was at the corner of Pitt Street. To my dismay
there was no bell-rope but I used my handkerchief tied to the tongue.
While fixing this my friend the horseman kept up a good flow of abuse
because it was not ringing, but at last I had the satisfaction to hear
the town bell.

Then being joined by three boys from the dance we four set out for the
asylum.

That we made good time was proved for we beat the brigade and made a
dead-heat with the salvage corps, not bad for a four mile spin.

When we arrived the place was well alight but the warders had done
good work getting the inmates out, and we were soon employed watching
one of the groups, but from outside the fence.

Our particular charges were generally a quiet lot but one big Maori
marched up and down cursing God and all and sundry for burning his
house down. There was also one patient in a straight-jacket who always
managed to get on his feet but each time the warder came round he
would put this poor fellow down again on his back.

There was great excitement when it was found that a woman was
imprisoned in one of the wings. She appeared at the narrow window, one
with an iron bar. The fireman soon had the bar out but the woman he
could not help, she being too stout for the opening, but when left to
herself she managed to squeeze through, and walked down the ladder
facing the crowd, smiling and bowing. It says much for the attendants
that only one woman lost her life, she was supposed to have started
the fire.

When they were transferring the patients to town they wanted us to
take charge of some of the buses, but I'm afraid we were not game.

Although we boys were all in employment, at least four business places
knew us not that day, but as far as I was concerned I was rather a
hero, did I not give the first alarm. I think perhaps I missed a good
chance to ask for a rise in salary.

But as our pay master wept each time he had to find a shilling for the
cat's meat, I think perhaps I was a little optimistic.

The End