My Life
As I
Recall It
By
Henk Bange
(b. 6.1.1924)
1
Contents
Dutch East Indies 1923-27, 1928-32
Suriname Dutch West Indies, SA 1932-37
Holland 1932-37
Dutch East Indies 1935/6 – 1945
December 1941 Pearl Harbour
Kwik Djoen Eng, Salatiga
Bandoeng – XVth Battalion Camp
Repatriation to Holland
Holland University & Rowing 1946–1951
Rowing Experiences 1946-49
France 1949
NZ, Wanganui 1951-52
NZ, Taumaranui – Manunui 1952-54
NZ, Mangakino 1954
NZ, Paeroa & Te Aroha 1954-56
Iraq, Derbendikhan Dam 1956-58
Holland & NZ 1958
NZ, Waihi 1960
NZ, Waihi Borough Council 1960-88
1. Council Staff
2. My 28 Years Work
3. Industries & Waihi
4. Family & Outside Interests
Pot-Pourri of Events:
Australia BangeReunion 1969
Visits to Holland 1972-73
The Children
Separation & Divorce
Committees
5. Retirement 1988 to 2007
Years with Doreen
Te Puke 2000
Addendum
4
10
11
19
28
34
38
53
58
64
67
73
85
96
101
106
117
119
122
130
135
164
166
173
173
176
177
181
182
186
192
220
227
2
Illustrations
Kabandjahe Feb 1925, first steps
Kabandjahe, our house Sumatra
Kabandjahe, me and brother John 1929/30
Father and mother mid 1930s
Semarang 1937, our house Java
June 1931 Kabandjahe, Sumatra
Maternal grandparents
Uncles and Aunts
Delft, Netherlands 1934
Family Semarang, Java May 1939
Tulip drawing 1937
Sea Horse canoe Semarang 1937/38
Lake Rawa Pening & volcano drawing
Japanese registration paper
Kwik Djoen Eng drawings
Bandoeng Camp drawings (XVth Battalion POW)
Bandoeng Sawmill drawings (XVth Battalion POW)
Tiny – flatmate 1946
Johan v Oldenbarneveld ship crew
University registration certificates
Marriage to Antje Bakker
France
Wanganui, Gonville Ave
Morris 8 1952/53
Manunui MOW house
Helena Joan Bange
Deborah Anne Bange
Waihi, 22 Moresby Avenue
Judy Henrietta Bange
Waihi Borough Council, Henk in office
Michael John Bange
Murray North Invite
Waihi Borough Article
Truus & Henk, Scotts Landing 2007
80th Birthday Invite 2004
Australia, funeral Ton Bange 2004
90th Birthday Invite 2014
Henk Bange Poem Retirement
90th Canvas Print
90th Birthday Cake
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23
32
35-37
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53
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62
69
80
86
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94
104
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121
136
166
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3
Dutch East Indies 1923-27, 1928-32
I was born on the 6th January 1924 in what was then a small village
in the Highlands of Sumatra, Kabandjahe, in the Dutch East Indies
(now Indonesia). At the time, there lived only four European
families there, including ours, which consisted of Mum, Dad, my
brother John and now me.
Our house was typical of the tropical style ‘villa/bungalow’ of the
times. Tiled floors, a main building (eating, living and sleeping
quarters) and attached wing containing ablution facilities, cooking
areas and live-in servants quarters. There was also a ‘stand alone’
garage on the section.
My father was a government employee engaged in agri- and
horticultural research and development. He was a graduate from
the Tuinbouwschool (Tropical) in Frederiksoord in Holland.
Note: I have been told that Mum and dad started work in the Dutch
East Indies running a florist shop in Bandoeng (Java) where my
older brother Jan was born in 1920.
Apparently I was born (to my knowledge a home birth) covered in
black down and my mother repeatedly said, “That is not my baby,
that is a monkey”. However I still remained a part of the family.
We had quite a menagery, some for fresh produce ( a chicken run
– fresh eggs), some of necessity; at least 6 dogs and some cats.
The dogs had one ‘leader’ (self imposed through dominance) and
at nightfall each dog had its apppointed place around the house, in
front of doors and windows. A first class security system!
Dad also had a horse and at one time I added a little goat to the
‘circus’. I don’t know where I got it from, but remember cuddling it in
my arms on the way home and on arrival there pleading for it to be
kept, and Mum let me. There was quite a lot of vacant land around
our house.
4
I only remember the odd snippet from my early years and it is too
late to find out more with both Mum and Dad and my older brother
John dead.
Employment conditons for government employees at the time were
4 years in the tropics and 6 months furlough back in Holland,
following each term of duty. Each year on duty ordinary annual
holidays of a few weeks also applied.
Father had two 4 year stints stationed in Kabandjahe, 1923-1927
and 1928-1932. I don’t recall having travelled as a very young baby
to or from Holland so I must have been born early in the first 4 year
stint.
5
6
Just a few glimpses of those early years:
At home (pre-school) I ran inside and fell on an earthenware flower
pot with my face. The pot shattered and my face was covered in
blood. Mother thought I had injured my eyes, but fortunately I had
landed with the bridge of my nose on the edge of the pot and all the
blood was from my injured nose. I had a scar on my nose for many
years.
Playing doctors and nurses in the long grass close to home with
friends.
Running away from home with brother John (why??) and being
overhauled before long by our driver in Dad’s car and taken back
home.
The start of my ‘chocolate hail’ addiction as a sandwich spread.
Apparently I was totally averse to eating butter on my sandwiches.
Mum tried everything including putting the butter on the reverse
side of the bread. But no way did I fall for any tricks. Eventually
though, Mum found the answer. A very thin spread of butter and a
thick layer of chocolate hail on top. For years after chocolate hail
was the only thing I had on my bread (and butter). I once calculated
in my late teens that I had by then consumed 300kg of chocolate
hail.
Now back to the main story.
Although not as a ‘babe in arms’, I started travelling half way
around the world (Indonesia to Holland) at a very young age, 3 ½
years old. Travel to and from Holland was always by passenger
ship, even for children a treat and really a glorious holiday in itself.
During the furlough in Holland my brother Ton was born on 2nd
December 1927 (died 18 February 2004) in Rijswijk, a town just
north of Delft (mother’s home town).
On my first trip back to Indonesia, at a stop over in the Suez
Canal, my older brother, John, had to look after me on shore and I
was at the age of ‘Why? What? How?’ question after question. At
7
last John said, ‘If you don’t shut up, we will go straight back to the
ship’. I don’t recall whether I did shut up (for long).
Also remember the killy-killy men, ‘sleight of hand’ performers
(some of whom were allowed on board) who made little chicks
appear from the most unlikely places.
And the bartering for souveniers, with little boats bobbing along the
ship and baskets on long ropes going up and down – merchandise
up and money down (the other way around did not work – goodbye
money!)
Throwing coins over board and little boys diving after them.
Stopping over in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) in Colombo also stirs
vague memories of shore visits.
Back in Sumatra in Kabandjahe, I went to school at 5 years old.
The school was some distance from home in Brastagi, and John
and I were day pupils. The school was a private one, erected and
run by the ‘Plantation Owner’s Association’ and most of the pupils
were boarders. I don’t have any striking memories of my first few
years at school there.
I do remember family visits we made to Lake Toba where the only
‘development’ at the time was a ‘pasangrahan’ (rest house) on the
beach. It is a huge lake with an island in the middle. The road to it
was often narrow and winding. Once a massive slip covered the
road and we were carried across it to the other side to proceed on
our trip. At the time Mum and Dad were great friends with the family
Derks. They had children of our age and we called Mr and Mrs
Derks uncle and aunty. Mr Derks worked for the government in the
equivalent of the Ministry of Works, substantially on roads and
bridges. I understand that Lake Toba is now an international
holiday resort with high rise buildings, even on the island.
On the 8th April 1929 my only sister, Truus, was born. So now we
were a family of six and it stayed that way.
8
In 1932 back to Holland (I must have been 8 years old) and a short
spell at primary school in Delft during Dad’s furlough. No wide open
spaces and greenery. A hard surface playing area and a stark
building.
9
Suriname, Dutch West Indies, South America
1932-37
Dad’s next spell of duty was in South America, the Dutch colony of
Suriname, where the tour of duty was only 2 years between
furloughs (because of the harsh climate).
Compared to the ocean liners on the Dutch East Indies run the
ships to the West Indies were like peanuts, quite a lot smaller and
older, but they got there. I remember vividly just about splitting
myself riding a donkey in Madeira (the only stop over enroute).
Apparently the ‘only’ tourist’s means of transport.
Arriving in Suriname, the ship appeared to sail straight into a low
lying coast, which miraculously split itself and gradually came
closer on both sides of the ship. We had entered the Suriname
River (at the mouth several miles wide) and kept steaming up for
hours before we reached our destination, Paramaribo, the capital
(and only town of any significance). The river here was still about
1.5 km wide. Ocean going bulk ore carriers sailed still further up
river to load bauxite (ore from which aluminium is obtained) from
the large deposits found there. In the two spells of 2 years Dad did
in Suriname he established the citrus industry.
Just a few impressions of my and older brother John’s short stay in
that country:
•
Every night foot inspection (we were not allowed to wallk bare foot
outside) as there were ‘bugs’ in the soil who laid their eggs under
your skin
•
A trip up the river with Dad and native personnel in a rickety,
wallowing, small and old motor launch. Crocodiles on the river
banks (which I saw) and piranhas in the water (which I didn’t see).
•
In school, open air class rooms (roofed over). When teacher left the
class room for a moment the black board was covered in no time
with rude remarks and ink wells were flying throught the air: in short
pandemonium.
10
Holland 1932 - 37
Obviously, compared with the first class private school in the East
Indies, I and my older brother, John, werent learning much. Mum
and Dad decided that John and I should be sent back to Holland to
board with relatives and not suffer inadequate schooling. As I
recall, John and I were only in Suriname for a few months. So we
boarded the little steamer (KNSM) and travelled back to Holland
under the care of a stewardess (part of the ship’s crew).
In mid ocean (Atlantic) we saw a tornado developing (water spout)
which caused a lot of excitement amongst the small group of
passengers. We were all on deck, watching the spouts (a grey
funnel extending from the sea into the black clouds above) erratic
progress. Unbeknown to us it caused the Captain and crew of the
ship a lot of anxiety in their effort to avoid a ‘collision’ with the
‘spout’. Frequent course corrections were made and eventually we
left the tornado safely in our wake.
In Holland, John boarded with Tante (Aunty) Bet and Oom (Uncle)
Jan Nootenboom in the Laan van Overvest. They had a grown up
son, Joop, and a daughter (a tomboy), San. Oom Jan owned and
ran a sawmill in Delft and Joop was involved in livestock (cattle)
dealing.
I boarded with Tante Co Bitter and her boarder, Oom Wim van
Leeuwen. Tante Co had a son, Jacques, and a daughter, Teuntje
(both grown up but living at home). She ran a little corner grocery
store along the main road and tram route from Delft to Rijswijk and
the Hague. Across the road was a ‘glass bottle’ factory. In the shop
was a whole row of glass ‘jars’ full of different types of lollies and as
a special treat I was sometimes allowed to choose ‘one or two’ for
myself. What an agonising decision that always was because they
were all so nice!!
Jacques was a painter at the Delft ware factory, ‘De Blauwe Fles’,
and could decorate a plate in the blink of an eye.
11
My grandfather, Opa Garnaat (from my mother’s side) also lived
nearby, while Oma Garnaat was in an asylum close to Delft. (I
never met Dad’s parents as he was an orphan and I don’t know the
background).
I have fond memories of my time at Tante Co’s. I learned to swim in
the public baths. A broad canvas strap around your middle with a
rope attached to a rod which the ‘coach’ held to stop you from
sinking as he walked along the side of the pool. Oom Wim had a
clinker built life boat which was converted into a cabin cruiser and
12
Jacques had a small centre-board sailing boat, a BM. The summer
holidays we spent cruising the canals and lakes. Jacques taught
me how to sail.
Tante Co’s house was small, behind and above the shop, with a
small enclosed back yard. I slept in a small alcove upstairs and
often had and cuddled the cat for company. This occasionally led to
flea bites and lumps.
‘Bath’ was a weekly occasion for me in a tin tub in the kitchen.
Teuntje usually scrubbed me down and had the greatest delight in
‘treating’ any flea bite lumps with vinegar (to stop the itch). That
burned like hell, particularly if I had scratched them open and I
usually yelled blue murder.
Jacques had a large model steam train which very occasionally
was operated upstairs in the main bedroom. Oom Wim was a
wizard with radios and had a little workshop upstairs for his hobby. I
think he worked in the Kabel Fabriek (cable factory).
I got my first push bike from Opa Garnaat (I think it was a birthday
present). A beautiful new gleaming boys bike. Oom Wim taught me
to ride and on one of my first outings I got mesmerised and rode
straight in between the legs of a pedestrian. Nobody got hurt.
The area is now fully built up but at the time there was a vacant
area of land nearby where we kicked a soccer ball around. It was a
clayey patch and in winter like rock and pretty rough. One day I fell
on the hard ground and split my knee open, bleeding like a pig. I
hobbled home and was looked after. I still have the scar (it should
have been stitched).
The Nootenbooms had a car and occasionally I accompanied
brother John and them on a days outing to the beach or just
touring. I also loved to visit the timber mill with the smell of freshly
sawn wood.
When Mum and Dad came on furlough we of course joined the
family. Mum and Dad usually rented a furnished house for the
duration. One of these was in Bilthoven, a stand alone villa with a
pine tree 'forest'. (When I start going through my old photographs I
may be able to pinpoint which furlough it was).
13
Another time we had a semi-detached house in the Thorbeckelaan
in Delft. It was there that I obtained a lifelong abhorrence of
'karnemelk' (a sour, thickish brew left over after butter production).
Mother always assured that we had a healthy balanced diet and
this 'stuff' (buttermilk) was supposed to be good for you (clarified
your blood or something). I didn't want to drink it so I was put in
front of the window facing the street with the glass of karnemelk in
front of me and had to stay there until I drank it. I was there for a
long time but didn't drink it.
Mother had a part time home help at the time, a young late teenage
girl, Annie, whom I met again much later after the war when
studying in Delft.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
While I was boarding with Tante Co there were two Dutch royal
family funerals. They always were impressive processions which
passed by Tante Co's shop. All Dutch royalty is buried in Delft with
the funeral procession starting in The Hague. On these occasions a
'Scottish Grandstand' was erected in the small back yard and sale
of seats was a nice bonus income for Tante Co. We had a
grandstand view from the second story bedroom windows.
One of the funerals was of Prince Hendrik, the prince consort of
Queen Wilhelmina. The whole procession was in pure white (his
wish). He was known to be frequenting university student parties at
the drop of a hat right through his life and the story was told that his
funeral was paid for by the refund of deposits on empty beer
bottles.
My next boarding experience was with one of my father's sisters,
Tante Cas. She was a spinster who had for many years been
running a student boarding house in Delft. She had retired from this
and now occupied living accommodation over the entrance to the
'Prinsen Hof' opposite the old church in Delft. John and I were both
boarding with her. Discipline was strict and we did not have a
happy time with her which must have come to Mum and Dad's
notice because our stay with her didn't last long.
14
On one occasion John and I were playing in the attic with John's
steam engine toy. It was a nice solid toy with a shiny brass boiler.
Tante Cas yelled from downstairs to come for dinner. Obviously we
didn't respond quick enough (shutting down the steam engine took
a bit of time and watching the thing was very exciting). Next she
came storming into the attic and kicked the toy across the room. (It
ruined it and couldn't be made to go after that much to our sorrow).
She limped away and obviously had hurt her foot which I have to
admit gave us some pleasure.
One pastime we had was running circuits around the row of old
chestnut trees which occupied the centre of the large (enclosed)
yard beyond Tante Cas' residence. The challenge was who could
keep running the longest. Today I am still surprised none of us
dropped dead at this game because I certainly kept going beyond
the point of exhaustion until nobody else was left.
Our next boarding was with the family of father's brother, both John
and I once again together. Oom Coos, Tante Anna and their only
child, a daughter, Jeannetje, who was engaged to Jo van
Bokhoven at the time.
I have once again happy memories of the time with them. I was
attending the HBS (Dutch secondary school where I started at the
15
age of 11). Although I grew to a height of 1.85 m, I wasn't very tall
at that time (shot up later in my teens).
At one time I got into a fight at school with a bloke about twice my
size. I can't remember the reason but he was a bit of a bully and a
teaser. It must have been a hilarious sight as here I was rushing in
with flailing arms and not getting within a mile of him. Fortunately
for me he was happy to keep me at army's length otherwise I would
have finished up being the worse for wear.
Oom Coos had a little dog, a dachshund, 'Pluto', (resembling a
sausage on short legs), who didn't readily tolerate any intrusion on
its territory. As luck had it I must have treated Pluto with respect as
I was never bitten.
Oom Coos worked at one of the university labs and (contrary to
Mum and Dad who were non-smokers and tee totallers) liked his
regular little snort (without over doing it). He had a little red tipped
nose!!
I think it was around this time (but it could have been some time
earlier) that I got into the habit of going around all the aunties and
uncles in Delft on the weekend, supplementing my weekly pocket
money, receiving 5 cents here 10 cents there, which was quite a bit
in those years.
Following the 'harvest' I was able to attend at least two children's
afternoon cinema theatre sessions which cost the princely sum of
25 cents each. There were 3 picture theatres in Delft at the time
and occasionally we were shouted an evening performance by
Jeanne and Jo.
Talking about cinemas takes me back a few years to Kabandjahe.
They had a picture theatre there too, a large tin shed (like some of
the old small town NZ ones). The films were mostly cowboys and
Indians ones (my older brother must have taken me) and without
remembering details, I still recall the absolute pandemonium
breaking out when one of the 'baddies' sneaked up behind one of
the 'goodies' and everybody started yelling (me included), 'Watch
out behind you!!!'
16
OK back to the present (in the story that is). Another memory is the
occasional visit by Oom Theo and Tante Rika, who lived in
Amsterdam. They had no children (Tante Rika was one of father's
sisters). Oom Theo had a furniture factory and shop in Amsterdam
and owned quite a bit of real estate (the only 'rich' member of the
Bange relations). He was the only one I never scored my
supplementary pocket money from. When he visited he showed a 5
cent piece and said, 'You can have it if you guess in which hand it
is'. Then he proceeded in making two fists and rotating one above
the other. I never got the 5 cents. It wasn't until years later that I
was told the trick he played. The 5 cents was always in his top fist
and if you guessed the top hand he quickly let the coin slip into the
bottom fist.
In the main summer holidays the family rented a beach place in
Noordwijk on the coast for one or two weeks. That was a fun time
always.
Just a few words about some of the other aunties and uncles in and
around Delft. A sister of mother, Tante Ans, was married to Oom
Henk Nieuwpoort, they had no children and he made ‘deluxe’ handrolled cigars in a little workshop in the town centre. I quite often
visited him at work, for two reasons: the smell of the tobacco leaves
was nice and more important the ornate coloured bands that went
around each cigar were a joy to behold and I often scored some of
them. They were collector’s items but have all long gone.
And a short bike ride out of Delft (I think it was Nootdorp) lived
Tante Cor and Oom Gerrit. He was retired from the navy and had
been involved with submarines and torpedoes. They were also
childless and Tante Cor always spoiled me when visiting. I think
she was quite a bit younger than him.
So now the time was rapidly approaching for the whole family, that
is John and me and Mum, Dad and the juniors, Ton and Truus, to
be together again, because Dad’s next posting was going to be the
Dutch East Indies again.
I can’t recall where the family spent the last furlough in Holland.
17
18
Dutch East Indies 1937 - 1945
Our trip to the Dutch East Indies started somewhat different this
time. Mother was not a good ‘sailor’, was usually seasick as soon
as the ship left port and never felt really well on the oceans.
The boat trip from Holland to Indonesia started from Rotterdam,
through the Gulf of Biscay into the Mediterranean, Suez Canal, Red
Sea, Gulf of Aden, Colombo, Strait of Malacca, Medan, Batavia.
The Gulf of Biscay is a notoriously stormy area and probably to
avoid that we were going to join the ship in Italy at Genoa, travelling
from Holland to there by train. We had sleepers and apart from the
excitement of such a trip I recall little snippets of scenery, mainly in
Germany and Switzerland as we travelled through it. After joining
the ship in Genoa, on passing the island of Sicily, Mt Etna was
erupting, a spectacular sight.
I think we travelled in the ‘Willem Ruys’, the latest passenger liner
from the Dutch Shipping Co. serving the East Indies. (Later in WWII
used as a troop transport).
Dad’s first placing this time was in Semarang, a coastal town on the
isle of Java. We lived in a pleasant ‘villa’ near the end of a tree
lined cul de sac road off one of the main thoroughfares in the town.
19
There were large mature trees and lawns on the grounds and an
old bougainvillea grew over a part of the house. The usual ablution
and servants quarters were attached (covered gallery) and behind
the house. At the end of this wing was a garage. At the back of the
land was a ‘kali’ (small river) with heavily overgrown banks and not
very clear water.
John and I went to the local HBS (secondary school) originally the
old one in town and later to a brand new development with 2 story
classroom blocks on the outskirts of town. School was from 7am to
1pm (No air conditioning at the time and afternoons were too hot
for study or sport). Both John and I were in the 1st grade school
hockey team.
We had, for those years, the usual range of native servants, a ‘boy’
(serving meals), a cook, washing woman and a gardener (tukan
kebon). I often remembered the gardener, when in my later years in
NZ I was raking up leaves at home with a bamboo rake; a scene
that I often came across then, coming home from school, with the
gardener doing just that.
20
Some highlights I remember from the time in Semarang:
•
•
•
The Dutch royal family wedding of Juliana and Prince
Bernhard. (7 January 1937)
Careering up and down one of the main drags in town in a (I
think it was a Ford) two seater car with a ‘dicky seat’ at the
back, till all hours, with bodies spilling all over the vehicle. I
am not sure whether at one count there were 12.
Building my first canoe, a sailing one, in the garage at the
back, with the help of one of our servants, who apparently
was also a bit of a carpenter. My cousin, Jacques Bitter,
had sent me the plans from Holland and later also the little
sail to suit the canoe and a set of paddles. It was built from
teak (native hardwood) and was beautiful. (Some photos in
my 1924-1942 photo album). I don’t remember how we got
it there, but I recall sailing it inside the breakwaters of the
port of Semarang. It was called ‘Seahorse’.
Two other snippets I recall from that time. Our dog, a smooth
haired foxy, got bitten by a snake (it was always roaming around in
the rough growth along the river bank, back of the house). Its front
paw was swollen and even its head. We couldn't get near it and it
disappeared for days. We thought we would never see it again, but
days later it returned and fully recovered.
21
On another occasion Dad came flying out of the WC (in the
outbuildings) with his trousers still at half mast. I didn't see it
happening but was told about it. Apparently what happened was
that after having sat down and finishing what he had come for,
wiping himself and getting up ready to pull the chain to flush, for
which he had to turn around, he spotted a snake between the pipe
and the wall. (The old toilets had a cistern high up with a pipe going
down to the bowl and a chain pull to flush). It had been there all the
time he had quietly sat there contemplating. (One of the servants
killed the snake afterwards).
I think we were in Semarang for just over a year when father was
transferred to Salatiga which was inland from Semarang in the
mountains. A much nicer climate and we acquired a house facing a
small park and a stone’s throw from Dad's office. Also close to the
local swimming pool. Salatiga was a very small township with a
'regular army' garrison. Dad had several fruit (citrus) and flower
(roses) research gardens under his control.
My brother John and I continued to attend the HBS in Semarang.
This meant a very early rise and breakfast, a long bus trip (school
bus) to school and bus trip home. Up at 4am and back about
3:30pm. A long day. Mother was always up for our breakfast and to
see us on our way.
It was of course dark when we left home and close by Salatiga was
an extensive shallow lake area - the Rawah Pening - on the shores
of which I (or Dad) somehow managed to have my canoe 'housed'.
(Helen has a little sketch I made on one of my frequent trips up this
'lake'). It was choked with water hyacinths which formed solid 'mats'
or floating islands. I sat on one of these to make my sketch. In the
background is one of Java's many volcanoes.
22
Sometimes at full moon traveling down in the school bus to
Semarang it looked as if the moon 'rolled down' the side of this
volcano. An awesome sight. I can still remember well.
We had quite a group of friends both boys and girls and had a very
pleasant life. Little could we foresee what the future would bring.
The Government Commissioner for the area, Mr Termeulen, had a
large property with a tennis court on it. He had two daughters our
age. There was also the Peelen family, with one son and two
daughters in our age group, Annemarie and Gretl Peelen, both of
whom later in life I came across in New Zealand. We often played
tennis or went swimming in the local pool. A son of a school
teacher, Hans?, I remember and also a daughter of an NSBer
(National Socialist), Annemarie Seegers. To distinguish between
the two Annemaries one was referred to as Annemapietje (Peelen)
and the other as Anemasietje (Seegers). During the holidays Mum
and Dad often rented a house still higher up in the mountains
(Bandoengan) where the climate was even better. Swimming and
tramping were the main pastimes and sometimes in the evening
going out to eat 'Chinese' with a whole group of youngsters.
On one such 'group eating' occasion one of our group did not eat
very much. Practically every building in the tropics may have an
odd gecko (larger lizard) but certainly quite a lot of tjitjaks (smaller
lizards) in residence. They are harmless and eat insects clambering
23
all over the walls and ceilings (they have suction pads in their feet).
As it so happened they also were present in the Chinese restaurant
kitchen and apparently (unbeknown to the cook) one tjitjak must
have been overcome by the heat and fallen into the 'what jan' of
food the cook was preparing. The cooked tjitjak finished up on the
plate of one of our group (which cured her appetite!!). It did not
affect the rest of us!!
On another occasion when a group of us went on a little tramp I
slipped on a boulder when crossing a small creek. I had a small
camera (all of $2.50 worth) made out of plastic in my hand and
trying to save this 'valuable' ?? possesion I smashed with my face
on a boulder breaking my two front teeth (permanent ones). That
was the end of the tramp and over the years those two teeth did
cost my parents a fortune.
24
24 July 2000
I better continue with my story, still a long way to go.
In those years in Indonesia (as it was in Holland) any boys reaching
the age of 18 had to enlist for two years military training. In time of
war these became the 'reserves' to strengthen the regular army. My
brother John finished up doing his training in Salatiga (stationed in
the barracks) after finishing his secondary schooling and after this
he had a job in Semarang and was boarding with the family
Breunesse who had two sons, Kees and Jaap, and several
daughters, Betty, Jos and Corrie. (John married Corrie after the
war).
In Salatiga the swimming pool was only a hop, skip and jump from
our house and we spent many an hour in there (being the tropics
you swim all year round). The changing cubicles had woven
bamboo partitions, easy to poke little holes in. And boys will be
boys. If an attractive girl went in to change after her swim, all the
boys rushed out to the next cubicle to get an eye full (only the
'teasers' ever showed their assets and they became known).
I finished the HBS (secondary school) when I was 16 years old and
University was going to be the next step. My exam results allowed
me access to the Engineering University in Bandoeng (West Java).
As I wrote earlier, Mum and Dad had old friends from the time in
Sumatra (late 1920's), the family Derks. We came across them
again in Java where the Derks family was stationed in Semarang
(their children 2 sons and 1 daughter, were in our age group). Why
I mentioned the Derks family is that the stories told by Mr Derks
about his work were probably partly responsible for me opting for a
civil engineering direction.
The first step to attend University was finding a place to live and in
those days student boarding with a family was the most common.
Following the receipt of many letters and offers in response to an
advertisement placed by Mum and Dad (to board a 16 year old) a
selection was made and Mum and I travelled by train to Bandoeng
to meet face to face (quite a trip).
25
It finished up mother selecting a widow and grown up daughter for
my board. Both of them were quite attractive: the daughter was
training to become a ballerina, was somewhat taller than me (and I
think a year or two older) and most times wandered through the
house in her leotard. A short while after starting university I wrote
home that I was not very happy in my boarding place (somehow or
other I didn't feel very comfortable there).
Meantime I had met a fellow student at university, Wolf de Steur,
who was boarding with a family that made a living out of boarding
students and they had a vacancy. From memory there were about
6 or 8 of us, a mixture of boys and girls attending varsity and
secondary schools. The house was a big two story one. Mum and
Dad approved the move so I shifted and had a much happier time.
Wolf de Steur had a younger sister boarding there, Annie, who was
still at secondary school. Their father was the Government
Representative ('The Controller', official title) on the island of Bali.
Annie became one of my first 'calf loves' and we did a bit of
'necking' but nothing serious, going out for the odd evening walks.
Not much chance in the house as the board parents were very
strict and sleeping quarters for the girls were upstairs and boys
downstairs. Although on one occasion (well after 'lights out') I
sneaked upstairs to give Annie a cuddle (without being caught out).
All boarders usually went home during the holidays and I was lucky
enough during one of the (shorter) holidays to be invited over to
Bali by the de Steur family. Had a glorious holiday, seeing all of the
island on an 'inspection tour' with Mr de Steur, Wolf and Annie,
visiting temples, outrigger canoeing on a lake, swimming at the
beaches, buying local wood and silver artwork. At that time Bali
was still a quiet backwater (today, as a lot of other beauty places,
spoiled by tourism).
Not only did I enjoy the holidays, I had a glorious time at the start of
university life, despite the fact that it was still a somewhat controlled
environment, ie. lectures had to be attended with records kept, but
outside those hours you could please yourself. So we swam,
played tennis, did bike tours and had a good time. I cannot quite
recall but I am pretty sure I received some pocket money allowance
from Mum and Dad.
26
But half way through the year there was a rude awakening! A letter
arrived home from university warning my parents that if I continued
the way I was the likelihood of passing the end of year exams
would be '0'. I should note here that practically 90% of the first year
at varsity was mathematics. Apart from the fact that I attended
lectures but did no study at home I could still vividly recall my
secondary school math teacher telling me on more than one
occasion, 'Henk Bange, you will never be any good at maths'. So I
got a stern warning from Mum and Dad, 'pick up your socks or
else', and they were willing to pay for some tutoring (all extra
costs).
That was quite a shock and for the second half of that year I
applied myself, not only to prove I could do it but also not to
disappoint Mum and Dad. The tutoring was all maths, mainly past
exam problems. Anyway the long and short of it is that I was
successful at the end of year exams (one of the 20% of first year
students passing) and thus could enter the second year after the
'summer' main holidays.
I started my second year enrolled on 12/8/41 in a new boarding
place close to where I had been boarding. A fellow student, Tom
Degenaars, and me were the only two boarders there. The lady
was either a widow or a divorcee with two grown up (working)
daughters (Elsie and Annie) living at home. Elsie was a tom boy
and Annie a bit of a quiet one. During my boarding there I got the
mumps on one of my testicles, a very painful experience. When
cured I only had one effective testicle left.
The year's enrolment fee for university was 300 Dutch guilders.
27
December 1941 Pearl Harbour
Meantime Holland had been over run by the German army and war
news from Europe was grim. The six months furlough in Holland
due after 4 years duty in the tropics was being replaced by an
equal period in Australia and our lives (apart from concern about
family in Holland) rolled on quite peacefully and 'normal' until the
Japanese Pearl Harbour thunder clap in December 1941, and the
Japanese war machine relentlessly advancing across Asia and the
South Pacific.
I was at university in Bandoeng at the time. Mother and Ton and
Truus were in Salatiga, Father was mobilized for active duty
(reserves) as was my brother John (he was with the 'mountain
artillery' - 75mm guns as well as having his 'sharp shooter' stripes).
Where they were to be stationed we would not know.
Initially nobody was all that concerned, there were large
contingents of British troops in Malaysia. Singapore (naval base)
was 'impregnable' with massive gun emplacements. The battle ship
'Prince of Wales' and heavy cruiser 'Repulse' were part of the naval
strength. Everybody was glued to the radio for the latest news but
interest and optimism soon changed to concern in a matter of
weeks.
Singapore fell, the large British war ships were sunk and the Japs
had air supremacy in most if not all areas. Sumatra was invaded in
February and in early March the Japanese entered Bandoeng.
Meantime I had my 18th birthday (6/1/42), the age to become
enlisted for military training. I passed my medical but in the chaotic
situation which rapidly developed I never got an enlisted number.
However I still finished up in uniform, as I volunteered as an
ordinance rider. I was supplied with a motorbike (German DKW
250cc) and was soon scooting all over town delivering dispatches.
Air raid sirens sounded fairly regularly and Japanese planes
appeared over Bandoeng, the big red circle clearly visible. Usually
they were fighter planes, the feared 'Zeros'. Occasionally making
machine gun passes.
28
Bandoeng was the Allied command HQ, evacuated before the
Japanese landings on Java. As such there had been a heavy
concentration of our troops around the city. There was also an Air
Force base just out of town.
Unbeknown to me my brother John with his artillery unit was part of
the army deployment in the mountainous terrain outside Bandoeng.
He found his way to Bandoeng where I met him at Jos
Breunesses's flat. (She was a teacher then in Bandoeng, one of the
daughters of the family Jan had boarded with in Semarang). As
soon as the air raid sirens went he dove under a bed, while we kept
watching the skies. I heard later that his unit had been decimated
by constant air attacks, bombardments, machine and cannon fire,
while in their mountain position. After the official surrender I lost
track of him as all forces personnel were rounded up.
While this was in progress not everybody obeyed the orders to
report to designated places and some took to their heels. One such
party almost proved to be the end of me. I was still in uniform and
on my way home on my trusted DKW bike after duty when,
approaching an intersection, I suddenly spotted a car at very high
speed approaching from the left. In what must have been split
seconds, I can still remember my thought pattern, assessing the
situation, reaching a decision and acting on it.
The roads were sealed, there was some loose sand on the road, it
was sunny weather. I thought, if I braked hard I would not stay
upright and slide in the sand, finishing up under the car. So I
decided to give the bike all it got and accelerate to try and beat the
car. I did not succeed.
The last I saw was the front grill of what was then a late model
Buick, looking like a '4 story house'. Next thing I was lying on the
grass verge with a lot of people around me. One person was
kneeling next to me and examining me (an officer in uniform), when
a lady pushed through the crowd and said, 'I have got a first aid
certificate', to which the reply was, 'Sorry madam, but I am a
doctor'. What a stroke of luck for me. I later was told the sequence
of events. The car that hit me was immobilized, the people in it had
29
run away. (They would have been shot by the Japanese if caught,
as deserters). From the opposite direction a car with four Dutch
army officers (one the doctor) had been approaching and saw the
accident, expecting to find a body on the side of the road after they
pulled up. I was taken on the front bumper of the car and
apparently bike and me somersaulted about three times through
the air before separating and landing.
I had a compound fracture of both bones on my lower left leg and
was on the operating table in hospital within a half hour of the
accident.
There must have been a guardian angel hovering over me as a top
class surgeon handled my leg and did a first class job.
What had saved my leg was a combination of factors: 1. The bike
had 25mm pipe crash bars. Friends of mine, visiting me in hospital
having seen the bike, told me the bar in the side I was hit was
flattened. 2. I was wearing heavy stiff leather leggings (about 3mm
thick leather) from ankle to just below the knee. 3. I had a large
sheath knife stuck into the outside of my leather legging of the leg
that got hit (I was shown this knife in hospital, it was like a cork
screw).
All this resulted in a 'clean' break of the bones, which apparently
protruded through the leather legging. The hospital I finished up in
had mainly war wounded in it, was commanded by the army and
fully staffed by reserves as well as career personnel. I was in a bed
right next to the entry door of the ward (with about 40 beds) and my
leg was in traction, with a pin through my ankle, the weights
suspended past the end of the bed (a pretty advanced treatment at
that time). Only a light dressing on the wound.
On the daily rounds I was the first the surgeon and his staff visited
and the surgeon had a habit of grabbing my big toe of my hurt leg,
giving it a little shake, while asking how I was. Every time he did
this I cringed and he said, 'Come on, can't hurt that much'.
Only later when an X-ray was made to check whether the bones in
my leg were knitting satisfactorily he told me, 'Now I know why you
jumped when I shook your toe! Your big toe was also broken in the
30
accident'. (Occasionally somebody walked into my weights and that
did hurt!).
On his first visit to the ward the surgeon also told me, 'You were not
enlisted, your uniform has gone into the hospital incinerator, you
are a civilian'. How critical this courageous action of the surgeon
proved to be was brought home to me when a few weeks later a
troop of Japanese officers came marching into the hospital, with
orders for total evacuation of all patients, no matter what condition
they were in. All military patients were to be transported to ??????
My leg had knitted sufficiently by then, it was xrayed (some anxious
moments I had, if the bones were not properly aligned they would
be broken and reset) and proved to be ok, put in plaster and I was
sent to my 'home' in Bandoeng, the family I boarded with, on
crutches.
I was lucky to have a place to go to, as traveling back home to
Salatiga was out of the question for the time being. My landlady
cared for me as a second mother.
Soon got used to moving around on crutches. Had another problem
though. Turning over in bed and trying to lie on my left side caused
an agonizing 'stab' in my shoulder. A visit to one of the few
practicing GP doctors gave a diagnosis: a severely bruised muscle,
give it rest'.
I was pleased when the plaster cast was removed enabling me
more mobility. I felt a burden on the family and tried to find means
of being able to contribute to the household expenses.
How and where I got the goods from I can not remember, but I
became a mobile street vendor on my push bike. Everything was in
short supply and whatever I could lay my hands on (bought) I could
sell at a reasonable profit, enabling me to contribute to our
household.
Getting hold of a case of whiskey was the ultimate (maximum
profit) but did not occur often.
31
Meantime the Japanese occupation took control and apart from
shortages and travel restrictions, life returned to 'normal'.
I had long lost track of my brother John as all military personnel
(including wounded) had been rounded up and transported to
?????
Next step the Japs took was to encourage, initially, and soon made
compulsory, the registration of all non-natives for a fee. I think it
was 150 Dutch florins, giving you a certificate. The story was you
could then travel and have freedom of movement.
32
Soon after I got my 'travel pass' I said farewell to my Bandoeng
family and travelled home to Salatiga, joining mother and the two
young ones, Ton and Truus. Application to travel dated 22/6/2602
Jap =1942.
Same problem here, limited resources and scarcity of supplies, but
money could still buy necessities of life (fruit and vegetables were
locally grown).
Soon after arriving home Mother had asked our family doctor to
come and have a look at my recent injuries (Dr Patsenberg was an
Austrian Jew, who had escaped Europe before Hitler's rampage).
Back in Austria he had been a top surgeon, but was now a GP in
Salatiga.
We were sitting in the lounge and from across the room he looked
at my left leg (I had shorts on) and said, 'A first class job'.
Then I undid my shirt and showed my shoulder. And again from
across the room looking at it he said, 'That has been a broken
collar bone, that is where 90% of them break'. (So much for the
Bandoeng GP's diagnosis, after feeling the shoulder, of a 'bruised
muscle').
We had a garage on our property which became a temporary
classroom and I became a secondary school 'Maths' tutor. I think I
had about 6 to 8 pupils which brought in enough to support our
reduced family.
Although gatherings of more than 3 people (not family) were
banned, we never had any trouble. Later we found out that my
'classroom' was well known to the authorities - at that time the
native police - who turned a 'blind eye' to the harmless gathering.
The relatively quiet state of affairs was too good to last and soon
the purpose of the registration passes became clear.
33
Kwik Djoen Eng, Salatiga
First, all men and boys over 12 years old had to report and were
rounded up behind barbed wire. My brother Ton and I were lucky in
finishing up in a local camp in Salatiga. It was a very large complex
owned by a rich Chinese, a “villa” called Kwik Djoen Eng with
dozens and dozens of rooms. The story behind this building was
that the owner would die once he stopped building. Initially there
were some 300 men and boys, which grew to about 600, after a
Catholic priest’s retreat was rounded up and brought in.
In this camp we were not allowed to do anything. The perimeter
fence was pretty close around the whole building. If the grounds
needed weeding, native gardeners were brought in. No books were
allowed. Apart from the lack of freedom, compared to our later
situation, we were in the lap of luxury. Meals were reasonable, we
had real beds, with mattresses, and often clandestine supplies
through the rear fence. (Our family’s native house boy regularly
risked severe beatings by coming to the back fence with fruit and
“goodies”, that mother had been able to do without). “Japs”
guarded the camp, but stayed at the front gate and did not patrol
the perimeter.
While even pencil and paper were “frowned upon” by our captors, I
somehow managed to lay my hands on an old blueprint and some
pencils. On the blank back of this blueprint I made a drawing of
Kwik Djoen Eng, sitting with my back against the enclosure fence. I
found the “perspective” very difficult, sitting so close to the building.
How I managed to bring this drawing through the years of moves
and hardships I do not know, but it survived and is presently
hanging in my daughter Helen’s house.
Playing cards appeared in the camp in abundance and it was here I
learned to play bridge. We even held bridge tournaments in the
main hall.
The “boys and young men” quarters were in the rear wings of the
complex and an “old-timer bushman” taught us the rudiments of
making wine from local fruit supplied through the back fence. The
fermenting was started with a handful of raw rice. Under many a
bed a bucket was “brewing”. It didn’t always succeed, sometimes a
34
“vinegar” was the result. But successful brews often finished up
with pillow fights of one wing against another.
Church services were held (and allowed) in the camp and an
ingenious contraption was built which allowed two accordions to be
turned into an “organ”.
35
36
37
Bandoeng – XVth Battalion Camp
All in all we had “quite a good time” in Kwik Djoen Eng until one day
a Jap officer appeared and everybody had to turn out to listen to his
tirade. “We were shortly going to be travelling to a much better
camp and, as he described it, something akin to “paradise”.
We could take one small suitcase each. I had a small wooden trunk
(about 500 x 400 x 300 mm) which stayed with me all the time as a
POW.
Not long thereafter we were loaded on to trucks which brought us to
the nearest railhead and from there on in railway cattle trucks we
departed to our unknown destination.
This proved to be Bandoeng where large garrisons from the KNIL
(Royal Dutch East Indies Army) had been stationed and
consequently extensive barracks existed. There were several
camps in close proximity to one another, we finished up in what
became known as the 'XVth Battalion Camp' with some 15,000
POWs.
Initially we were housed in existing facilities, buildings containing
small cubicles (one sided open rooms) with tiled floors on which we
slept (no beds or mattresses) with each person allocated about
750mm width (30"). I made a little drawing of 'the view' from our
room (I think I gave it to Judy).
Temporary additional barracks were still being erected. We shifted
to these with about 100 persons per barrack. Continuous 'rough
sawn planks' raised wooden platforms on either side of a central
aisle. Each person's 'home' was just under 2 meters x 3/4 meter.
At some stage (I think it was during our transport from KSDE to
XVth Battalion) I had scraped the shin of my right leg, taking off
several patches of skin. It was only healing slowly and played up
regularly, as I will relate later.
38
It will be obvious with so many thousands there was a great wealth
of expertise in the camp. Camp leadership and liaison with the
Japanese Camp Commander was through a small group of
internees. As far as I know they were not elected or appointed by
39
the Japs, but were 'natural leaders' who took control and organized
some order into the chaos.
In relatively short time cooking facilities were extended, ovens were
built, water dividers located underground water, bores were sunk
and fitted with hand pumps and vegetable gardens (mainly kumara)
established on any unoccupied areas between the barracks.
Some of the camp leaders had been CEOs or directors of large
companies, not enlisted in the armed forces, as these organizations
were essential to the war effort, and thus becoming civilian
internees. They were generally better housed (old 'officer's
quarters) than us 'run of the mill' internees, but also readily
accessible and in first line should the 'Jap's ire' be raised for
whatever reason.
'Black marketeering' never ceased completely in the camp, but only
accessible to people who still had generous means secreted (at
great risk), money, valuables or spare clothing.
Rumors abounded in the camp (generally stating that the war
would soon be over) usually groundless but keeping spirits alive.
After the war it was disclosed that a radio was secreted at camp
leadership quarters, hidden in a small stool on which the Jap
commander was invited to sit anytime he called for discussions with
the camp leadership or if a camp search was ordered or in
progress.
Access to this 'real' news was kept to a very restricted 'inner circle'
to the end of the war, even when the 'tide turned' and the Japs
suffered severe losses and started to retreat. Promising 'news'
items were only 'released' as a rumor, after what was judged to be
a 'safe' period of time. This radio was never discovered by the
Japs.
I will recall a few camp experiences in the following:
In a way we were 'fortunate' that the camp was in the tropics,
requiring not much in the way of clothing. Most of us wore only
40
patched up shorts (I wish now that I had kept one as a souvenir)
with patch over patch.
Food Half if not all the time, our thoughts dwelled upon this, as
there was always hunger.
Breakfast (After roll call in front of the barrack, counting out loud in
Japanese: 'Ish, Née, San, Shi, etc'). One ladle of starch cooked in
water. Urinated out within an hour.
Lunch A watery soup, vegetables in there mainly green chillies,
and a small 'loaf' of bread (once the 'bakery' was built) to be shared
between 3 persons. Some more about that later.
Dinner A watery soup as above and a bit of rice. Some kumara in
the soup at times.
One place where there was no real hunger was in the camp
kitchens. Fully staffed by internees, heavy, hard and long hours of
work. The ovens were long wood stoked ones. The cooking vessels
large steel drums (the size of 44 gallon drums) with two rings at the
top rim through which a bamboo pole was put to lift the 'pots' off or
shift them.
It was every camp youngsters dream to be fit enough and land a
job in the kitchen. I was fortunate enough to do so after a few
months, but unfortunately my shin injury (I referred to earlier)
became inflamed and I had to rest my leg and that was the end of
my kitchen experience.
Another place where extra rations (not on a par with the kitchen)
were available to workers was in the 'sawmill'.
The 'mill' consisted of a battery of pit saw stands under 'atap' roofs.
Logs were brought in and teams of 8 on command: 'een, twee,
ruggen recht' - 'one, two, straighten backs', lifted one of these on
their shoulders, linked arms underneath and carried the log into
one of the stands, where it was cut into rough sawn planks. (I had
some little sketches I did in camp, I think I also gave them to Judy).
I also had a spell in the 'mill', carrying the logs out, but again the
heavy work inflamed my leg and I had to pull out.
41
42
There were other less assured ways of 'occasional' extra food,
some carrying severe risks. Meat or anything resembling it was the
most sought after commodity. One source (not plentiful) was
searching for and gathering the common big black garden snails
(without a housing). Next was trying to get some salt (usually
through a 'kitchen connection'). Place the snails in a bucket of salt
43
water and soak. This dissolved all the slime and very small solid
morsels remained. These were cooked (or if 'luxury' had turned up
some fat or oil - fried) and at the time to us tasted like chicken
(maybe they actually do but I've never tried them since).
An animal in camp was also fair game. At one stage four of us had
our eye on a little dog which regularly came past our barrack. One
of us 'knew' how to kill the animal, with the only 'weapon' at our
disposal, a lump of wood. We were lying in wait and, yes there it
came around the corner of the barrack. Down came our 'expert's'
arm and an almighty yelp resulted; the dog scampered never to be
seen again. (He had hit the dog on the thick of the skull instead of
breaking its neck).
The kitchen's sweet potato patch next to our barracks created
another 'possibility'. To find a sweet potato in a field of them in the
dark is pretty time consuming, if not impossible (it is one mat of
greenery). The 'system' was to put a small 'marker' stick near
where the sweet potato was in the daylight, sneak out in the dark,
locate the marker, dig out the kumara, smooth out any signs and
back to barracks. Discovery by Jap guards would result in a beating
and lock up in a 'cage' near the camp entrance. From memory I
only risked it twice (the first time without a marker and didn't find a
thing).
Another 'chance' of extra food was joining one of the 'working
parties' odd jobbing outside the camp. Absolutely no guarantee of
food but another attraction was getting outside the barbed wire and
break the monotony. You seldom knew where you were heading
for, but if you felt like it and you were fit enough you reported in the
morning and were put into a group. I went in quite a few but will
only recount a couple of memorable cases.
On one occasion our group finished up in a Japanese officers camp
ground to clean up the gardens, sweep the paths, etc. one of the
'Japs' called me aside and took me to his quarters where he had a
job for me. Next thing he gave me a broken alarm clock for me to
fix. Whoaa!! Saying, 'No I can't do it', was no option - most likely
result, a beating. Sign language was the only communication. He
must have given me some tools (screwdriver and pliers) I think, so I
went to work. Fortunately it was a very basic clock and after partly
44
taking it apart I discovered that I could fix it if I had a spare 'hollow
rivet'. So I indicated that I would come back the next day and carry
on with the repairs. To fill the rest of the day's time he indicated I
could wash the tiled floors of his quarters. I went in search of a
bucket, found one, cleaned the floor and returned the bucket. Knick
of time! Instead of our guards counting us and marching us off, we
had to stand to attention and a Jap officer started laying down the
law in no uncertain terms. The long and short of it was that I was
the culprit. The bucket I had used to clean the floor was a 'kitchen
bucket' and who the hell had used it!?? (It should be noted that the
Japs were and are scrupulously hygienic, in particular related to
food or diseases - they wouldn't enter the camp hospital ward
without a face mask). So I owned up and stepped forward, fully
expecting an almighty hiding. But I must have once again had a
guardian angel, as only a further verbal tirade resulted and we were
marched off and on the walk back to camp I kicked something on
the road and suddenly realized what it was; a belt buckle with a bit
of leather attached to it. I managed to pick it up and yes, here were
two hollow rivets staring at me. Back the next day and managed to
get the alarm clock going. A very happy smiling Jap and as I got up
to join my mates on the general clean up he indicated I should wait
and off he went. Well, I thought he'll probably come back with some
food for me, goody, goody! But no! To my horror he came back with
a bucket full of watches, clocks and wrist watches for me to go to
work on. Fortunately it was close to knock off time, so I indicated
'tomorrow'. I never went back!!
On another occasion I was part of a regular 'working bee' which
travelled into the countryside by train to work on extending a small
railway spur line. A small native village was nearby where we were
working, with quite a few 'free range' chickens wandering around
the area, often amongst us workers. That was too much of a
temptation and suddenly there were one or two less chickens
wandering around. In the evening, back at camp, mouth watering
smells emanated from some of the barracks as the chickens found
their mark! I was never one of the 'lucky' participants, but my luck
held in another way.
One day I didn't feel too well and decided to stay in camp. That
night. The whole working group staggered into camp!! The villagers
had started to miss their chickens and had complained to the Jap
45
guards. On disembarking from the train and before marching back
to camp the group of workers was frisked. Some chickens were
found and the Japs went to work on all of them with their rifle butts.
I missed that one!!
I briefly come back to the 'loaf' of bread (I mentioned earlier under
food) each three people shared. (The loaf was no larger than about
150mm x 80mm wide x 60mm high). Each group of 3 had their own
measuring stick, marked off in 3 portions and all 3 watched the
marking of and cutting of the bread. Each in turn got the middle
portion and each end piece was pointed at with the recipients not
looking and asked, 'For who is this piece?' Our threesome was my
brother, Ton, an old wiry little fellow, young of spirit, and myself.
Our barrack was a pretty happy one and at regular intervals on a
fine day everything went outside and we 'burned off' the bed bugs
in the wooden platforms, 'our home', by moving burning paper
'torches' along and underneath them. You never fully eradicated the
blighters but at least it gave some temporary relief (I don't know
where we got the paper or the matches from).
Well it is about time for me to take up my April 2002 story again.
Almost 20 months have gone by since my last entry. I started
reading through what I wrote and compiled some small addenda to
what was on paper so far.
Before concluding about my camp experiences, I still have to
mention a final source of not only extra food but also some
'luxuries'. All these were contained in the 'Red Cross parcels';
boxes of 'goodies' we only dreamed of. Most of these parcels,
supposedly one parcel for each internee, never reached us. But
occasionally some filtered through and were distributed, always
only one parcel to be shared by a small group, 3 or 4 people.
Cigarettes were counted out, chocolate had to be broken in pieces,
and after the sharing, bartering started. Smokers (which I was not
then) gave anything for extra cigarettes. If my memory serves me
right I can only recall two occasions of Red Cross parcel
distributions during my internment period. In each instance they
were still a highlight.
46
But all bad things come to an end. There had been rumors for
some time, that the Japs were being beaten and even talk of
surrender. We had rumors before, but suddenly truck loads of rice
started to arrive in camp and vegetables (unheard of) became part
of the menu, and shortly afterwards, the camp gates were opened
and we were free to come and go as we pleased.
But no sign of conquering troops, no VJ Day! The Japs remained at
the gates and in town, fully armed!! But the biggest change was
they were polite!!! This was weeks after the H bomb and their
official surrender. It was all very confusing but we were glad to go
outside the camp and were greeted warmly by the elderly native
population. If we tried to buy anything (mainly food-fruit) we were
given it. The local currency was practically valueless. We still
returned to camp for our regular meals and a place to sleep.
And then one day I was in the right place at the right time. I was
near the camp's 'head office' when a ute pulled up. A rather 'large'
lady got out of it and proceeded to wobble to the office. As this was
something unusual from the daily routine I and some others nearby
were curious and waited around. What the lady was after became
clear in no time at all. She approached the camp commander (one
of our internees) with a request for about a dozen able bodied
volunteers to be made available to her, to be fed and housed by
her. She was in the process of setting up a central kitchen, near the
railway station in Bandoeng, to cater for trainloads of arrivals,
practically all women and children, from camps in other parts of
Java (Bandoeng having a moderate climate, being located in the
mountains, was chosen by somebody?? to be a central rallying
point).
In no time at all the story spread and she was inundated by willing
workers. She chose the ones to her liking and I happened to be
one of them. We left there and then in the back of her ute. She was
a half caste and had a group of half caste women working for her
who did all the food preparation. The ovens were like the camp
ovens and the cooking pots similar 44 gallon drums. She wanted us
young 'men' for all the heavy work, firewood chopping and carting,
shifting, lifting and loading the large 'pots'. Two 'men' to a pot and a
bamboo pole through the rings. We also unloaded and carried the
'pots' at the various institutions where the new arrivals were
47
housed. All schools and suitable institutions were commandeered
to house the new arrivals.
Everybody in the kitchen, but also outside, called our 'large' boss
lady, 'Aunty' (Tante). It was either Marie or Truus. She was a born
organizer and also a champion cook in her own right. Realising the
heavy work she expected of us she fed us a good nutritious diet
and she and her staff (all volunteers) looked after us well. She
managed to make me try and like 'fried brains' but did not succeed
in me getting 'karnemelk' (buttermilk) down my throat; tried it with
lots of sugar, a little sugar, no sugar, but no way!!! (My experience
as a young boy trying to be forced to drink it, referred to earlier in
these memoirs, certainly made a lasting impression).
A small group of us finished up 'squatting' in a private residence we
found unoccupied, including some girls we befriended. I became
quite attached to one of them, Tiny. But although we cuddle from
time to time, she was adamant she did not want to go 'all the way'
until she got married. I respected her for this and we remained
good friends. We spent the last night together at Bandoeng Airport
when I left for Djakarta. I lost touch with her, she remained in
Indonesia, married and sent me some photos of her first born - see
my 1945-1980 photo album). But I am getting ahead of myself.
As I mentioned earlier the only military presence we had in
Bandoeng were the armed Japs. They obviously had orders to
keep law and order and protect us ex-internees which they did
admirably. Also the elderly native population treated us with
respect, but not so the youngsters, they had been indoctrinated by
the Japs and resentment smouldered close to the surface.
At the kitchen we soon settled into a routine. We did the heavy
chores in the kitchen, distributed the food and at the end of the day
dropped off the women working in the kitchen at their homes before
heading to our own home. Quite often on our final evening route we
called at the railway station to see whether any help was required.
Our vehicle flew a little Red Cross flag and we all had individual
Red Cross passes. More about that later. In the mornings we often
took a truck out into the countryside to buy provisions (fruit and
vegetables mainly). I will finish this episode of my story with a few
happenings which disturbed the routine.
48
Before doing so, however, I have to mention that finally some Allied
troops had arrived in Batavia (Djakarta) and a small contingent of
Ghurka soldiers had arrived and were stationed in Bandoeng.
An order was issued for all Japanese troops to surrender arms and
law and order was going to be exercised by the Allied 'forces'.
These 'forces' were totally inadequate and soon young native
radicals and agitators caused widespread unrest and at times
armed open rebellion. The national freedom cry was 'Merdeka'.
One of the first signs of this developing we encountered on our
forage trips into the countryside. We started running into road
blocks, manned by armed youngsters and children. I myself was
signalled to stop by some children and told my driver to pull up, as
in the background some armed youngsters had their rifles at the
ready. Next one of the kids told us to get out of the vehicle and to
start walking (back to town). We lost our vehicle. We were always
unarmed, flew the Red Cross flag and had instructions not to resist.
So we walked.
On arrival back in town the incident was reported to the Ghurka HQ
and in most cases the vehicle was recovered (by them) and
returned to us.
29 April 2003
About time I continue my ramblings; has been quite a break.
Meantime I have sorted out the bulk of old photos and put these in
albums. Also most of my old 8mm films and had the family ones put
on a video with a copy to each of the children and one to Anne.
Helen processed any written comments to go with these videos.
Now back to the past.
On one occasion (during the day time) we became aware that an
obviously hostile armed mob of natives had 'surrounded' our
kitchen facilities. Our boss, 'aunty', did not hesitate, grabbed the
phone, got the exchange. Her first words were the freedom cry
49
'Merdeka' and she then proceeded and asked to be put through to
Ghurka HQ. She was connected and explained the predicament
we were in. In next to no time a contingent of Ghurkas, with
armored vehicles, appeared and the 'mob' melted away. We had no
further trouble.
As I mentioned earlier, at the close of work in the evenings, my
driver and I (we had the use of a Landrover ute) dropped off the
women volunteers at their homes and often made a last call at the
railway station, to check on any known train arrivals due (with
women and children evacuees) the following day. This particular
evening there was no info, but on the station platform we found two
forlorn young Dutch soldiers, with nowhere to go. They had hitched
a ride on a train from Djakarta and had no idea where to go. So we
said, 'you can't stay here, we’ll take you home and find you a bed
for the night'. So they hopped on the back of the Landrover, guns
and all. We left the station and had only travelled a short distance
when suddenly our vehicle was surrounded by an agitated yelling
crowd as far as you could see. Where they suddenly came from
was anybody's guess. A lot of them were armed (mainly cutting
instruments - machetes) and in next to no time the Landrover was
brought to a stop. Our Red Cross flag on the vehicle didn't mean a
thing. Our two young soldier friends on the back of the Landrover
were just about 'shitting themselves' and to tell you the honest
truth, I myself was not very far from it either. However I managed to
tell them to stay sitting down and keep their 'bloody' guns out of
sight. Fortunately they obeyed me and sitting down their uniforms
were not that obvious.
To be surrounded by a mob like that with no means of escape has
been the most frightening episode in my life. There are no words to
describe it. The mob was not quite out of control but working up to
it; they had reached the stage of running 'amok', nothing would
have saved us and I would not be here to tell this tale.
Fortunately my 'guardian angel' was still with me. The crowd was
parting to let a big black limousine through which was flying a red
and white (the 'freedom' flag) pennant from the front mudguard.
The vehicle stopped in front of our Landrover and out stepped an
Indonesian officer in full uniform. Almost but not quite a 'hush' had
come over the crowd. I explained to the officer what we were
50
involved in and that we were on the way home, showing him our
Red Cross pass as well as indicating our Red Cross flag on the
vehicle (I still have this little flag).
He climbed on the bonnet of the Landrover, had taken his pistol out
of the holster and holding the 'pas' (upside down!!) started to
address the crowd, with his revolver pointing at the pass and
'following the lines??' and pretty soon the crowd started to drift
away, slowly first then suddenly they were gone almost as quick as
they had appeared.
That was a narrow escape and we got home without any further
incident. It was not until well after that I could smile thinking about
the 'upside down reading' of our pass by the officer. Also his
attitude may well have been different had he spotted the armed
soldiers in the back of our vehicle. One final tale before departure
from Bandoeng.
One day a small Ghurka 'platoon' requested the use of our
Landrover, to proceed to a reported incursion by rebel forces near
the outskirts of town. 'Mad' youngsters as we still were, we (there
were three of us including the driver) asked whether we could come
with them. OK but we had to obey any commands the Ghurkas
issued!!
Close to the area of the reported activity the Ghurka commander
decided to proceed on foot, leaving our vehicle with the driver in it
behind. Our small group crossed two roads and were lying in a
shallow ditch facing some open fields with scattered low growth,
when suddenly all hell broke lose; rifle and automatic weapons
firing erupted over a wide front facing us.
We were obviously heavily outnumbered and the Ghurka
commander decided to retreat across one road to a sandbagged
position he had previously spotted. Under 'cover fire' from the
platoon we ran zigzagging across the road, one at a time. Before
we started crossing, my colleague was hit and killed. I asked the
commander to take him with us as we retreated but he refused as
the risk for further casualties was too great. As soon as we were
across and in the sandbagged position the Ghurka commander
directed firing by his men with himself head and shoulders above
51
the sandbags. Before long he was killed also and I and the small
platoon retreated further, under cover fire by the Ghurkas.
We were close to where we had left our vehicle with the driver,
when much to our consternation the Landrover suddenly took off.
We kept running until well into the built up area of town. Later we
found out that our driver took off as he had been hit (shot through
the throat) and while he still could, he drove himself to the nearest
hospital. He succeeded in this eventually fully recovered.
The day after our encounter, a large Ghurka contingent was sent to
the area for a mopping up operation but found no resistance. They
brought back the remains of our casualties which had been
'machetied' to an unrecognisable mess.
52
Repatriation to Holland 1945
Not long thereafter there was a call for fit youngsters to assist with
chores on the ships which were repatriating, in the first instance,
women and children, to Holland. With the blessing of our 'kitchen
mother' I volunteered and was accepted. It was too good a chance
for an early repatriation to Holland.
As the road between Bandoeng and Batavia (Djakarta) was not
secure, we were flown in rickety transports from Bandoeng airport.
We were transported to the airport (just out of Bandoeng) the
evening before our departure day and friends were allowed to stay
with us. As I mentioned earlier, Tiny stayed with me that night,
cuddled up on the floor at the airport.
On arrival in Batavia we found that a group of some 200 young
men were going to be assisting the crew on board the 'Johan van
Oldenbarneveld'. She was a twin screwed old timer on the East
Indies passenger run, before the war, and used as a troop transport
during the war.
If I remember correctly she was the first ship repatriating a large
number of women and children from Djakarta to Amsterdam, over
2000 of them. I cannot recall how it eventuated but I finished up as
one of the three leaders of the group of 200 volunteers (Hans Mets,
Han Jacobs and myself - refer photo album 1945-1980). It meant a
very hectic period for the three of us before departure. In
consultation with some of the ship's crew we found out what work
53
was to be done by our group and subsequently put together work
rosters and allocations. During the trip out 'triumvirate' remained the
liaison between the crew and the 'workers'.
It was not until after we departed that we (three) found out what a
'lucky' break we had. The work of the 200 mainly consisted of
lugging supplies to the kitchen and refreshment bars, all pretty
physical and usually involving stairs! The three of us obviously had
done a good job of rostering as we struck no major snag during the
whole of the trip. As a result we three had a life of leisure, with time
for shipboard romance (Wien Kapitz).
We slept in hammocks and during the first part of the trip (in the
tropics) I had managed to stake out a spot in a sheltered position
(with cover) on one of the upper decks, where I slung my hammock
up for the night. As it got colder I found an inside bunk.
On this boat trip I really had the first real feeling that the war was
over. We never experienced a 'V' Day with liberating troops and
impromptu street parties celebrating liberation in Indonesia. The trip
itself was a pleasant experience with no worries where regular
meals were coming from. The old lady (Johan van O) started to
show her age and heavy war time usage however and every now
54
and then we 'limped' along at half speed or less, when one or other
of her twin propeller shafts started to overheat; had to be stopped
and 'running repairs' (bearings) made by the crew. In Suez all of us
had a brief stopover and left the ship to be supplied with two full
sets of warm clothing and an overcoat, also shoes from the 'NAAFI'
store, a cavernous warehouse. Most of us hadn't seen anything like
it for years and gladly accepted whatever looked a reasonable fit.
(Those 'in the know' however turned into 'fuss pots' and virtually
finished up with 'made to measure' clothing).
We arrived in Amsterdam in the middle of winter (snow) and I still
remember how cold it was despite our clothing 'issue'. The cold
must have affected my brain?! as I have no clear recollection of the
immediate period following disembarkation. I must have finished up
at relatives in Delft. Which ones???
Somehow or other, substantially through the world wide resources
of the International Red Cross organization, it was known to me
that all six of our family had come through the war.
Father finished up in Changi Prison (Singapore), brother John was
liberated in Japan and sent to a recovery camp in the Philippines,
mother and sister Truus were at a POW camp in Ambarawa, Java
(mother only just survived) and moved around in Java to stay
ahead of the unrest in the country. Mother received a postcard size
photo of dad while still in Ambarawa and did not recognize her
husband. He was so emaciated and she said when receiving it,
''Who is that?"
All of us except my older brother John were back in Holland within
a reasonably short time. John, who had survived the 'Burma
Railroad' and slave work in the Japanese coal mines, finished up in
the so called 'police action' in Indonesia after having been 'fattened
up' in a USA recovery camp in the Philippines. He became once
again involved in a flat out war, the so called 'police action' in
Indonesia. All in all John lost some 7 years in military service and
as a POW.
I can't recall the details of my whereabouts in Delft between arrival
in Holland and the family (including me) getting settled in a rental
home in Delft at Kolk 2A, that mum and dad managed to secure. It
55
was a narrow terrace house (one room wide) backing on to ans 'air
and light' shaft (two rooms deep) and three stories and an attic
high. The ground floor was not part of the house but belonged to
the student pub around the corner on the 'Oude Delft' street. The
front door was right on the street and led via a very small 'hall'
directly on to the first flight of stairs to the first floor which consisted
of the lounge, kitchen and, next to the 'air shaft', a small shower
alcove. A passage led to the second flight of stairs and two
bedrooms on that floor (master bedroom at front). The next flight of
stairs led to the attic which became the boys' domain. At the front
was a small dormer window looking out over part of the old town
and almost level with the top of the street trees which abounded
along the old canals (grachten) in the historic centre of Delft.
Dad managed to get a job in The Hague, a short tram ride from
Delft. The tram stop was only a few minutes walk from our house.
At the time I thought 'that poor old man' having to go back to work
at his age. When I got a bit older myself I realized that he was then
only just over 50 years old (and I am now approaching 80).
Being still reasonably young the family assumed that I would take
up my interrupted engineering studies at university. So I enrolled at
the Delft Institute of Technolgy for a civil engineering degree. The
Delft Institute was the largest tertiary technical study facility in
Holland, originally established as an Academy in 1842, elevated to
University status in 1905, with many diverse engineering disciplines
available for study. At the time the total student population was
around 5500, most of them boarding or flatting.
I was lucky being able to live at home, as our family's 'financial
resources' were severely limited and boarding costs for me would
have been an extra burden.
What was annoying for me was that my successfully completing
first year studies at Bandoeng University was not going to be fully
recognized and I had to repeat all the 'higher mathematics' subjects
and pass these before proceeding. These form the major part of
the first year's engineering studies and maths had never been one
of my favourite subjects. Even at secondary school I still recall my
math teacher at the HBS in Sewarang saying, 'Bange you'll never
do any good at maths'. Anyway I passed the exams.
56
To pay for enrolment fees, books, etc. I applied for and received a
'student loan' for my first year of studies (to be applied for
annually). I also joined a small civilian (as against student) rowing
club which had its club rooms and boat shed in an old historic tower
remnant of the old 'city wall' of Delft, only a short push bike ride
from our house, as was the University building in which my lectures
were held.
57
Holland University & Rowing 1946 – 1951
I appeared to have a natural ability for the sport of rowing and soon
was part of the 'beginners coxed four' in the 'stroke' position. Our
coach was an ex Olympic rower, who had built up his own shipping
company from nothing and was as 'hard as nails'. Training for
competitions was daily, right through the winter. I recall that early in
our training one day I didn't go to the club house because the
canals were frozen over. The next day I was asked why I hadn't
turned up and I answered, 'But there was ice in the canal'. Did I get
a telling off!! Obviously I never missed a training day since. Many a
time thereafter I was on the water when our boat (or in rowing
terms our 'shell') broke the ice on the canal.
13 June 2003
I better hurry up with my reminiscence cues as I am now only just
in 1946 (22 years old) and in another six months I will be
(hopefully) hitting 80.
It was at the rowing club that I met Anne, or was it Anne met me?
This needs some explaining. Obviously the club had mixed
membership and also some members of all ages. It was also a
small club with as far as I can recall around 100 members.
Anyway as a beginner you start off being instructed by an
experienced rower, in what was called 'the box' (de bak). This was
a rower's seat (sliding) fixed on the pontoon in front of the club
house equipped with an outrigger for the oar, which had a
perforated blade (as you were not going anywhere). Here you
learned the technique of the stroke (our senior coach used the
Fairbairn technique for our racing crews).
During one of my first sessions in 'the box' several girls (including
Anne) were looking down from the club house balcony (one floor
up) and (I was told later) apparently Anne asked her friends, 'Who
is that in the box?' apparently rather liking the look of what she
saw. To cut a long story short, by the end of my first rowing season,
Anne and I were 'an item'.
58
The last races of the season were the 'Western', rowed near
Rotterdam, where I 'stroked' the beginners four with cox to victory,
winning my first 'gong'. My cox was Hans Kapsenberg, the brother
of Lucy van Zoelen (née Kapsenberg), Anne's school friend who
much later finished up in New Zealand.
Our club had several other victories and our coach, V. Warkum,
was so pleased that he invited all the crews to his house for drinks.
He lived on a 'lifestyle block' between Rotterdam and Delft. A 'self
made' man but also married (later in life) to a daughter of one of the
better off (richer) Dutch business families. They had no children
and his wife did not seem to be too happy with his invitation of all
these noisy youngsters. Unbeknown to us at the time was that it
was their wedding anniversary that day and as a surprise for her
husband she had planned for an intimate dinner for two at home,
with roast duck.
The coach's invitation did not fall on deaf ears; end of season,
months of training with no smoking or drinking behind us, all the
stops were off. The house was overflowing, the champagne was
flowing freely (I still have one of the champagne corks) and a jolly
good time was had by all (apart from Millie, the coach's wife). Some
how or other one of the senior rowers had got wind about the
intimate planned roast duck dinner and started 'shooting ducks'
from where he sat. A not so subtle hint to share the roast duck.
It was well into the night when the party started to break up. Anne
and I were getting a lift home in one of the cars there. With three on
the front seat I had my arm around Anne but, also, in my by then
befuddled state, around the car's doorpost, when somebody
slammed the car door shut on my finger!! Sobered me up in a hurry
and, close to fainting, I was unloaded from the car. Although
extremely painful no doctor was required for the damage and I
finished up spending the night in the coach's guest room. After
everyone had left I was even offered some roast duck, but I could
not face anything to eat. What irony!
59
25 June 2003
Apart from the rowing club activities, taking up my studies, getting
romantically involved, I also joined one of the two student
organizations in Delft, the DSB (Delft Student Union). The latter
involved a regular amount of social student interaction, with at the
end of the study year a week long round of 'letting off steam',
culminating in a ball lasting into the early morning hours. So I was a
'pretty busy boy'. I also realized that facing close to five years of
study (2 years to preliminary exams, further 2 years to Bachelor
degree and one further year to Masters degree), if I continued
applying for and living on a student loan each year, I would start my
working life with a 'big brick' around my neck, facing years of
repayments.
In looking around for work I was lucky enough to secure a job at the
Research section of the Soil Mechanics Laboratory (SML) which
also had a consultancy section. Although being an 'independent'
organization, the SML was housed in the Civil Engineering
University Building complex and closely associated with the
university. Several students in addition to permanent staff worked
in the lab. An added advantage of the job was that I was allowed to
attend key lectures I had to follow for my study, during working
hours. While working in the research section my work involved
extensive small scale tests on drainage of clay soils by electro
osmosis. Clay soils are notoriously difficult if not impossible to
dewater (drain); a frequent requirement for civil engineering
construction work in excavations. The system was used by the
Germans during WWII for the construction of submarine shelters in
Norway. Energy demand for it was extremely high but costs during
the war time do not count in final decision making.
In my final study and working year I transferred to the Consultancy
section, interpreting and advising on foundation and/or stability
problems. Data for use in this advice were obtained by field parties
on site who either collected (soil) samples (which were tested in the
lab) or produced bearing values of soil strata, usually through the
use of cone penetrometers (at the time an advanced and patented
soil mechanics tool developed by the Delft lab).
60
While employed at the Consultancy section I qualified and obtained
my Master of Engineering degree in Civil Engineering, allowing me
to use the (in Holland) protected title of IR in front of my name. I
stayed at the same desk doing the same sort of work but my salary
overnight was almost doubled!! Qualifications!!
But once again I am getting ahead of myself, so let us roll back a
few years.
Shortly after returning to Holland in 1946 I lost my virginity
(willingly) seduced by a married cousin of mine. The affair lasted for
a while. As well, earlier in this story, I mentioned a young home
help, Annie, mother employed while the family was on furlough in
Holland (at the Thorbeckelaan in Delft, my 'karnemelk' episode).
Somehow or other I ran into her one day and found she lived close
by the university building where I worked. She was married and
had two children by then. Her marriage was a mixed
(Catholic/Protestant) one and not all that happy. Following some
morning coffee calls a brief affair developed.
Anne and I got engaged and decided not to get married before I
qualified which involved a four year wait which caused a few 'ups
and downs' over this period. Anne assures me that when I
proposed to her my first question was not, 'Will you marry me?' but,
'Are you willing to leave Holland with me?' The answer to both was
obviously, 'Yes', and after I graduated on March 1st we got married
on March 30th 1951. It was a simple civil ceremony in the Town
Hall in Delft with mainly family attending.
Anne and I arrived in a horse drawn carriage and were 'greeted by
a guard of honor' consisting of colleagues of the Soil Mechanics
Lab 'presenting' come penetrometers. Neither us nor the families
had money to afford a 'wedding breakfast' for family and friends so
after 'open house' at Anne's place with nibbles and drinks, the
immediate families were going to have dinner in a local Chinese
restaurant. To our total surprise and great delight we found the
restaurant booked out by all our friends, greeting us with loud
cheers when we entered. (They all paid their own way).
We had a brief honeymoon in a 'B&B' in the countryside in the east
if Holland and hired some push bikes to trip around.
61
After this we both went back to work, Anne to her job as a teller in
the Delft Savings Bank and I at the Soil Mechanics Lab until our
departure to NZ.
Why New Zealand? Well first of all I have to go back to my question
to Anne, 'Are you willing to go overseas?' Coming back to Holland
after the war I already knew deep in my heart that I would be
looking for wide open spaces in a not too cold country for my
working life. Two reasons; the first it was what I had experienced
for most of my life to date and secondly my profession to be (civil
engineering) had become extremely specialized in Holland (and
62
Europe). Had Indonesia not been in such a turmoil at the time it
would have been my first choice. A beautiful country extremely rich
in natural resources. After that my thoughts were: South America,
Australia and New Zealand with no particular preference. With
Spanish the prevailing language in South America I took up
optional lectures available at university for a while. (After English,
Spanish is the most prevailing 'international' language). At work I
had access to a large number of International engineering
magazines and I kept perusing the adverts for job vacancies in
these towards my graduation. I also wrote, late 1950, to the Snowy
Mountain Project in Australia which had just started, a 25 year
power (hydro) and irrigation development, but was advised that no
engineering vacancies were available at the time.
While in the middle of my final exams (both written and oral) I
noticed an ad in an English magazine that a panel of NZ engineers
was big to be in London to recruit British engineers for NZ. I wrote
to the address in the ad expressing my interest and the position I
was in (not graduated yet). I received a reply and was offered an
interview.
So one morning I left Delft (I think it was mid January 1951) by train
to Amsterdam, flew from there to London, had my interview and
was back in Delft that evening. I was offered a position with the
Ministry of Works (MOW) subject to my graduating. Family fares by
British passenger ship would be met as part of the deal. No
housing accommodation was offered with the job.
During the interview I was extensively quizzed about possible
interest by other Dutch engineers to work in NZ as there was a
considerable shortage. I advised the panel that most likely there
would be, as this year with me there were some 300 civil engineers
graduating as well as many more in other engineering disciplines.
At the time as well work prospects in Holland were not very
promising with a depressed economy, far from the prosperous state
the country now enjoys. As a result advertisements in Holland
followed and in later years interviews were even held in Holland. I
was the first Dutch professional engineer to come to NZ and many
more followed in my footsteps. So NZ here we come.
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Rowing Experiences 1946 - 49
Before continuing with my story I better slot in a few bits and pieces
about my rowing experiences. Earlier on I recounted the start of my
rowing 'career' in 1946. The following year I found myself as part of
the crew (No.2) of the 'Senior 8'. Being a small club we just
managed to put this crew on the water with no reserves, not one of
us could afford to fall sick!!
Our stroke (No. 8) was a veteran rower, Hein v Suylekom (in his
early 40's) the old rowing partner of our coach van Warkum, in his
early rowing years. Most of the crew except me and one other
(Rinus Loonen) had been racing for years, including our cox, Jaap
v d Ende. The coach had high expectations of us and had his
sights set on the Henley Royal Regatta on the Thames in England
and the ultimate 'rowing eight' trophy, the Grand Challenge Cup.
We won the first race of the season in Holland and continued in
that vein, won several races in Belgium and won the National
Championship in Holland. Now we faced the Henley Royal Regatta
and what an experience that proved to be. First off, the race course
on the river Thames was established by tradition. It was just over
2100m long compared to the international standard length for
men's crews of 2000m. Secondly, elimination was by two crews
only competing against one another which meant many races to
reach the final.
The course was defined by heavy timber booms on each side, of a
width giving only a few feet to spare between the blades of two
competing crews and the blades to the booms.
The transformation of the river bank for the spectator's enclosure
near the finish line was unbelievable. Almost over night plain
grassed areas were transformed with big marquees to serve meals
and drinks, surrounded by flower beds. These were created by
burying plants (pots and all) and a light cover spread of soil
between them. Deck chairs were lined up along the river bank. This
was the 'Royal Enclosure' and we as crew and our supporters had
full access to it for the whole period of the Regatta.
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Our attire generally was a far cry from the 'high fashion' parading in
the enclosure, but as 'foreigners' we were tolerated.
Instead of loud acclaim and yelling at the finish of a race for the
crew in the lead, the 'fashionable' crowd in the deck chairs gently
clapped their hands on muttering, 'well rowed'.
Anyway we reached the finals of the Grand Challenge Cup, rowing
against Jesus College - Cambridge and their supporter's cries still
ring in my ears. They were lined up along the course against the
booms in punts and boats of all sizes. The race went 'neck and
neck' with either crew edging out in front by a whisper and all the
time the booming from the side lines was the cry, 'Jesus! Jesus!'
Swelling to a crescendo towards the finish where Jesus College
slowly eked out in front, winning by a canvas. Although we lost, it
was the most exciting race I ever rowed.
I had a scrap book about the Senior 8 with programmes and
newspaper articles etc. Some years back I sent that to the DDS
club secretary in Holland to go into the club archives.
Coming home from Henley we still faced the European
Championships which were going to be rowed on the 'Roth See'
near Lucerne in Switzerland. We did our best but were not placed
in these, we obviously had peaked at Henley.
In 1948 I rowed once again in the Senior 8 of the club this time in
No. 4 position. We weren't as successful as 1947 and came third in
the National Championships at the end of the season. After that
from 1949 onwards I became a supporter, encouraging other club
members to 'slog their heart out' racing. One or two highlights are
worth recording. I think both occurred in 1949.
Three of us supporters decided to push bike to Amsterdam from
Delft (some 60km) to attend the championship races to be rowed
on the 'Bosbaan', (a man made race course for rowing just outside
Amsterdam). To break the monotony we decided to take a bottle of
square gin with us to slake our thirst en route. We had worked out
how many 'nips' the bottle held and calculated how many kms we
had to bike between nips (I should mention here that our whole trip
would be along specially designated bicycle tracks!). One of us was
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a Chinese student. Well we made it and finished up at the boat
sheds in Amsterdam where our little 'Chinaman' just managed to
get off his bike to fall fast asleep!! The gin bottle was empty.
Another highlight as a supporter was when a group of us (at least
12 from memory) had the opportunity to attend the Henley Regatta
in 1949 to support the DDS entry, once again for the Grand
Challenge Cup. Our coach, van Warkum, had offered to take us
across from Rotterdam to London docks on one of his coastal
freighter ships. We all had our push bikes, tents and camping gear
with us and were going to get permission from a farmer near
Henley to set up camp on his property. We arrived late morning at
the London docks, packed all our gear on the push bikes and
started to pedal. To get to the road to Henley we had to traverse
the whole of the London metropolis and this in the middle of a hot
summer's day. Our 'caravan' caused quite a few heads to turn. We
were sweating like pigs and dying of thirst, when only half way
through the city and not a water tap in sight. At last, in desperation,
we stopped and some of us entered a very imposing building with
marble columns up front and lots of marble in the lobby and humbly
asked whether we could have a drink of water!! Probably the
strangest request they ever had in this, what proved to be one of
central London's banks. Although some eyebrows were initially
raised, after we explained our situation and where we were heading
for, the staff willingly obliged and we were able to slake our thirst.
We duly arrived at our destination, obtained permission and set up
camp. Nearby was a small typically English country pub where we
mingled with the locals in the evenings before diving into our
sleeping bags. Our camp cooking duties were rostered. Our crew
that year was eliminated in the heats.
That is enough about my rowing period. Before returning to my
chronological life tale, just a brief mention of two visits to France.
(Some photos in my 1945 –1980 photo album).
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France 1949
The first one (I think it also was in 1949) was in the company of two
“rowing buddies”. Jaap v.d. Ende owned a Citroen car and wanted
some company on a trip to France, sharing expenses. Rinus
Loonen (one of the 8 crew) and myself jumped at this chance and
the three of us took off. First destination Paris, where at the time a
married cousin of mine had a flat. (San Nootenboom, a daughter of
Oom Jan and Tanta Bet with whom my brother John boarded for a
while in the early 30’s, had married a French businessman, Jean
Andre). We were made most welcome at San’s place to “bed down”
for B&B. Husband Jean had a weakness for ties (shirt & tie) and
had a wardrobe full of them. One day we knotted all of them
together and festooned the flat with them. Jean’s face dropped on
coming home from work that evening, seeing his pride and joy
”abused”. But when he noticed that we had carefully avoided not to
tighten any knots (and San had warned us not to!), his face lit up
and he enjoyed the prank (Photo 45/80).
We visited Versailles, the Notre Dame, Montmartre and of course
one night a “girlie show”. The “Moulin Rouge” was outside our
financial reach, but the show we went to was fabulous, with
revolving stages and parts rising from below or disappearing down
and “disrobing” girlies everywhere! There was no ‘door charge’ but
drinks (champagne only) were exorbitantly priced and we ‘eked out’
one bottle of champagne between the three of us for the whole
night.
Another night we went to a specialist small restaurant, with only
frog legs dishes on the menu. The restaurant was like a railway
wagon, - long and narrow with small tables both sides and a central
walkway. We enjoyed the frog legs and the wine. One patron (well
under the weather) walked around with a pair of scissors and found
a great delight in cutting off part of ties anybody was wearing. On
leaving the restaurant every customer received a small lead cast
frog as a souvenir. I had it for years, but I think it got lost. After
leaving the restaurant we finished up in a local bar where
everybody wanted to know where we were from and what we were
doing. When they found out that we were student rowers from
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Holland and had been National Champions, free drinks flowed and
we were the toast of the place. Any new entrant was told “Ah, ici
les rameurs champion nationale”!!
One of the patrons (a Frenchman) left the bar with us and insisted
we try The! French dish (Bouillabaisse, a fish soup) with him, at an
eating house nearby. We thoroughly enjoyed the late meal and in
the by then early hours of the morning farewelled him and took the
“Metro” to our flat, at the other end of town. The following morning
after breakfast we were off to do some more sightseeing and
walked down to our nearby Metro station, where trains were rolling
through every few minutes to various destinations around town.
And in this city of millions on a crowded platform who do we run
into? The Frenchman we left on the other side of Paris the night
before, going in a different direction from us. Talking about
coincidence!!
Another small experience putting on record here relates to French
taste buds. My cousin San had noticed, that us three at breakfast
thought nothing of it to have some marmalade or jam on toast,
followed by ham or cheese. She suggested that we do that on
purpose on the weekend when her husband Jean was home. Well,
Jean’s eyes just about popped out of his head. Never, never do
you eat sweet before tasty items. No wonder the French “haute
cuisine” is so refined.
After leaving Paris we travelled south, overnighting in small country
taverns whenever we could, finding these cheap with good meals
and comfortable beds. Our travelling lunches usually consisted of
a French stick loaf with cheese and a bottle of wine (photo 45/88
album).
On this trip I had my first (and only) mountaineering experience,
when we hit the French Alps near the Italian border. We hired a
guide and proper gear for the day to go up on the permanent snow
and climb a small peak. Traversing a small glacier we were all
roped together, in case of any hidden crevasses. Although I hate
“cold’, it was great fun and on the “summit” we felt as if we had
conquered the Mt Blanc (photo 45/80) How relative things are how
much pleasure can be derived from even small achievements. We
also paid a brief visit to the “Princedom” of Monaco and did some
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“high” rolling in the Monte Carlo casino (we all lost our limited
stakes). All in all we had a great time.
My second visit to France was a totally different experience. For
my engineering studies, I had to have three months practical
experience on a major engineering work (for me in the “civil” field)
and compile a report on the project and your experience. I applied
for and got a placing on a large project in the South of France –
The “Donzere” – Mondragon canal” project.
I hitchhiked from Delft to the project (just South of Lyon and close
to the Mediterranean Sea) in just over a few days with a fellow
student. En route we “overnighted’ in our sleeping bags on a
grassy riverbank. We reported to the Contractors company office
in the little village near the project, in our broken “school French”
and were directed to the hostel on the project, where we each had
a room with the bare essentials. I can’t recall whether our main
meal of the day was provided for us. I think it was, while breakfast
and lunch we organised ourselves in the hostel.
The job was a massive earthmoving job, excavating for a canal to
improve navigation along the river Rhone, with stop banks on either
side of the canal and various structures (bridges and locks) along
its length. There were several students from other countries on the
project as well. We were provided with pushbikes to travel to and
on the job. I got quite friendly with a young English student (no, not
a girl) who had come over with his motorbike, more about him later.
I concentrated on the “earth moving side” of the work which
involved massive machinery, large motor scrapers, draglines, and
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dredges. The latter floated in their own excavation and deposited
material on the side via several conveyor belts, which were
supported on pontoons, which also provided swivel points. The
dredges swung over an arch covering the bottom width of the
“canal to be” and had cables running to anchors on both sides.
They advanced by winching themselves forward after each swing.
They worked shifts, going 24 hours a day. One night disaster
struck, one of the dredge captains had been drinking and failed to
control the dredge at the end of a swing. The result was that the
bucket ladder of the dredge struck the batter of the underwater
excavation. The winches kept pulling the dredge sideways on its
swing and the whole show capsized. As well the conveyor belts
towards the pontoons were wrenched and twisted (photo in 194280 album). This dredge captain didn’t last very long on the job!
Another day a new machine was being assembled on the job a
“walking dragline”. The bucket was big enough to drive a car into
and its 24 hour “output” capacity was the same as that of one of the
dredges. We students were free to roam around the job. One day
I was timing the turn around run of tractor-drawn motor scrapers
doing a short circuit, loading and dumping. Regular as clockwork!
It looked so effortless and the loading area was kept as smooth as
a billiard table. One of the drivers asked whether I would like to do
a run or two and explained the basically simple controls. Drop the
scraper cutting blade for loading, keep the tractor revs up and lift
the cutting blade when the scraperbowl is full. OK, no sweat.
Away I went. Whoops, cutting too deep, up a bit – down a bit etc
etc. Anyway after a couple of runs the loading area looked like
ocean waves. So with sincere excuses I handed the machine over
to the operator. And what magic! In next to no time the loading
area was again as smooth as a baby’s bum!
That is enough technical talk. Will finish this episode with some “of
the job” experiences.
It was more than 20 years back to my basic school French and our
on the job contact was mainly with the labourers and machine
operators, who all only spoke French and to my ears as rapid as
gun fire (middle and senior management spoke English as well, but
we only had very occasional contact with them).
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Of necessity we had to rapidly acclimatise and after only a few
weeks we could converse (within reason) in colloquial French. You
can if you have to!!
One evening after dinner three of us felt a bit lost in the hostel. We
all had finished our meals, had no more letters home to write and
thought it would be a good time to go and share a bottle of wine at
the local bistro, a short walk away from the hostel. After one bottle
we felt still a bit dry so we ordered a second bottle. We were not
rushing our drinks, but after a while the second bottle was also
drained. Now we had a problem: how to divide the cost of two
bottles by three, so we could each pay our share! After some
serious discussion, this problem (in our current state) was found to
be insurmountable, however we found an easier answer. Yes, we
ordered a third bottle and proceeded to enjoy its contents and one
another’s company. By this time it was dark and after settling our
account we took off for “home”. There were no street lights, no
torches nor moonlight. After stumbling and falling into one or more
roadside ditches (fortunately dry at that time of the year) we found
the hostel and our beds most welcome!
The English student I mentioned earlier needed new shorts. Lyon
was the nearest town with decent shopping and work vehicles
regularly made runs to it. He asked me to come with him and we
soon managed to catch a ride with a man which had to collect
some equipment in the city. As an aside, to the story which follows,
I have to mention that en route our driver made a little detour and
picked up a lady from one of the staff houses ( we found out later
she was the wife of one of the French engineers on the job). Once
in the city we arranged for a “rendez–vous” time and place and we
went shopping for a pair of shorts. I soon found out we had a
problem, my friend was looking for a pair of “English shorts” (the
ones that come to your knees) and all we could find were French
ones (which barely covered your bottom). In the end he settled for
a pair several times bigger than he needed. On our return trip we
found that our lady passenger was somewhat red eyed and
obviously had been crying. After she was dropped off at home, we
asked the driver what had happened. The answer was thay he
had told her that day that their affair was finished and that her
daughter had taken her place in his affections (talking about French
triangles?)
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Apart from work, which kept us occupied most of the time, there
was not much to do where we were, so when a long week-end
loomed we were looking for a way to widen our horizons. I had an
old aunt (a lesbian retired nurse), one of Father’s sisters living with
her partner in Menton on the South coast of France. My English
friend had transport, his motorbike, so we decided to go touring.
We visited Avignon (with the famous bridge and the song “Sur le
pont d’Avignon”). One evening we went to a ballet performance in
an old Roman amphitheatre. It was like a Degas painting coming
to life. As well as that the acoustics were unbelievable. We sat
near the top of the amphitheatre (stone) benches and could hear
every word spoken on “the stage” without any sound system!
We followed the (then) still beautiful south coast along the
Mediterranean. We stayed a night with my aunt in Menton and just
ventured into Italy for a brief look, before heading back to our work.
A very interesting and enjoyable three months work experience
came to an end in the summer of 1950 and I hitchhiked home with
my backpack, which by now included a light 2 person pup tent and
a French bottle of champagne. I got home in one day, Anne and I
consumed the bottle of champagne during a brief sailing holiday on
one of the lakes in Holland out of the best “glasses” we could find
on board, some small mustard jars!
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New Zealand
Wanganui 1951-52
Now back to my general narrative, where I had reached the point of
Anne and me readying ourselves for New Zealand.
The original information and part of the job offer was that we would
travel by one of the passenger lines which then still regularly sailed
from London to Wellington. We were really looking forward to this
as an extended and second honeymoon trip. I can’t recall what
interfered with this arrangement but the long and the short of it was
that travel was going to be arranged on one of the Dutch immigrant
ships which at that time brought thousands of Dutch immigrants to
New Zealand. It also delayed our departure until late 1951.
We packed our meagre belongings, apart from clothing and books,
two single beds, the “Mechelse” cupboard, the “Beardman” jar, my
drawing board and some small ‘knick-knacks” is all I can
remember. To have some spending money for the trip we sold
what little we had of some value, which included my quite extensive
stamp collections.
The immigrant ships were wartime “liberty” ships converted for
passenger transport in “four bunk” cabins. To maximise capacity
all passengers (without children) were in sex segregated cabins.
Four men in one cabin, four women in one cabin (married or not). It
was a bit of a disappointment at the time. Departure time came
and we left for Rotterdam to board the “Zuiderkruis”. This meant
queueing up in one of the wharf sheds, with your hand luggage and
slowly being processed along rows of tables (there were several
rows) manned by officials of all descriptions. I should mention here
that Dutch immigrants could only depart for New Zealand at that
time if the bread winner had a job and accommodation guaranteed
in writing.
We progressed slowly but came to a grinding halt. I had a job but
no accommodation. Impossible! We did not follow the rules!! We
were pulled aside and in the end, after much delay, a
representative from the New Zealand High Commissioner
appeared and vouched for our valid departure. When we finally
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entered our cabins, the other occupants were already well
established and had seen our delays. They said “We thought you
two were not going to make it”.
We found that two of our cabin group were also married couples,
one recently married (like us) and one a bit older (Jan and Rietje
Knol) with no children. The 6 of us became virtually inseparable
during the voyage. They were both “better off” families but we put a
kitty together to share expenses. Our trip was via the Panama
Canal and was fairly uneventful. I’ll first jot down a few “highlights”.
The first time Anne saw cliff faces jutting out of the sea (instead of
the Dutch flat sloping beaches) she couldn’t believe her eyes. Why
didn’t they fall down? Because they are rock! (A virtually non
existent material in Holland).
At one end of the Panama Canal (I think it was before entering) we
were allowed on-shore in the evening and the six of us were going
to “taste the night life”. Because of our budget limitations, all we
could afford to drink was “coca cola” at five cents a bottle. We
started of in great spirits, progressing from bar to bar and observing
the local scene - we finished up in the end, sitting down ordering
our coca colas and leaving the full bottles behind, heading for the
next stop. It put me off coca cola for life!
Our passage through the Pacific was generally through very calm
seas and often large groups of young people gathered on the
foredeck of the ship swapping yarns and experiences. On one
such occasion, the talk centered on the pre-war and war years,
where you were when the war broke out and during the war. Quite
a few in the group were in the Dutch East Indies pre-war and I
started to tell my story about being caught up in Bandoeng at the
time of the Allied Forces surrender and my motorbike accident in
Bandoeng. One in the group started asking questions about the
accident (which street, what hit you) and when narrowed down he
said: “I was driving that car”! Nine years later, having survived the
“Japanese Holocaust” and with thousands of immigrants going to
New Zealand, we met again on a ship in the middle of the ocean.
What a small world it is!
As luck would have it, we made an unexpected landfall and stop
over in Tahiti. The ship was running low on drinking water and the
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captain decided to replenish supplies there. To add to our luck, the
only supply line of the wharf was a small diameter hose. We were
allowed off ship and spent the day sightseeing and shopping (Shell
necklaces and the like) admiring the colourful tropical fish from the
quayside and finishing off spending the night on the deserted
beaches, for the first time since departing from Holland, that Anne
and I were able to be together “alone”. The trip came to an end in
Wellington Harbour, arriving late in the day and the ship had to
anchor before berthing in the morning.
Having admired the views of Wellington and surrounds and
following dinner there was not much to do. But our group of six had
got wind that the captain and officers had a party going in the
Captain’s quarters. We knew the captain had an eye for “attractive
young ladies” so we hatched a plot. The three women of our group
would “infiltrate the party” and five to ten minutes later we, the men,
would join them “innocently” looking for our wives. The ploy worked
and we all enjoyed the banter and a few drinks until the captain
became a bit amorous and started stroking the hand of one of our
women who was sitting close to him. She felt a bit uncomfortable
and signalled to her husband, who managed to sidle up and
replace his hand for hers.
The “stroking” continued until the Captain in his by then “somewhat
befuddled mind” realised that it didn’t feel the same, woke up to the
fact and stopped. He also noted that the lady had a drink in one
and a cigarette in the other hand. The party finished when the
Captain left (assisted) and was put to bed. We heard later that the
reason for the party was “the safe arrival of the ship in Wellington
Harbour”. Apparently the ships officers had been worried about
striking any storm during the trip. I and people which had
experienced voyages by sea had noticed that the ship, even in
dead calm seas, was “wallowing” from side to side. Apparently
these “liberty class” ships, built as freighters, were somewhat top
heavy after conversion to “passenger” ships and inadequate
ballast below deck.. Anyway that was the story. Early next
morning we berthed and for those of us who had witnessed the
state of the captain the night before, we couldn’t believe our eyes.
There he was “as bright as a button” standing on the bridge
directing the berthing of his ship.
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Soon after we heard, that somebody was looking for” Mr and Mrs
Bange.
We were ready with our hand luggage to leave the ship (after
saying farewell to our shipboard friends) and found an elderly
gentleman with “floppy” (no crease) trousers was there to welcome
us. He looked like a sort of “porter “to us. Anyway he guided us
ashore, carrying some of our luggage and took us to a car. He
brought us to our Hotel (a then 5 star central Wellington Hotel)
where we found a “whole suite” having been reserved for us
(Bedroom, bathroom and sitting room). He left us to freshen
ourselves up and said he would be back to give us a tour of the
city.
During the tour we expressed admiration for the surrounding hills of
Wellington all being clad in golden yellow blossoms. He laughed
his head of, it was one of the curses of the country. “ flowering
gorse” imported from Scotland (where it is used for hedges) by
early settlers and spreading like wildfire, costing a fortune to
control.
I think we stayed in Wellington one more day and had matters
organised for the next stage of our journey. My first position was
going to be as an Assistant Engineer at District Office of the
Ministry of works in Wanganui. We were to travel by steam train
(At that time all New Zealand trains had steam locomotives)
Before we departed I had found out that the person who had
welcomed us was the “top personnel officer” (One of the highest
paid Government officers) of the Ministry of Works (just as well we
had been polite to him).
En route we were all eyes for the countryside, slopes everywhere
and “funny ridges” on all the grassed hills. The train stopped at a
station around “morning tea” time and suddenly there was an
exodus, every one out of the train. “Refreshment stop”. We lined
up and got ourselves a “cuppa” and a sandwich and sat down in
the cafeteria. Suddenly we noticed, that we were almost on our
own, everybody seemed to have boarded the train. So we hurriedly
up anchored and did the same (don’t know whether we took our
drinks with us, I think we did). Just as well, we were hardly aboard,
when the train departed and we would have been left behind.
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There were no “dining cars” on the trains then and these stops
were the only opportunity to get drinks or food on your trip
(Taumaranui was a famous refreshment stop on the Wellington to
Auckland main trunk line). We had to change trains, I think it was
at Palmerston North, to join the branch line to Wanganui. We
arrived there and moved into out hotel in the centre of this
provincial city. It was quite “a let down” from the Wellington
standard, just a basic bedroom and shared ablution facilities along
the passage.
My contract with the M.O.W was for an initial four year period and
included a clause that accommodation would be fully paid for by the
M.O.W for an initial period (from memory either one or several
weeks, a short period anyway). There after you were on your own
(more about that later). I reported to the office and was introduced
to the District Engineer OD Bell (the top “boss) and the Chief
Draughtsman (my direct boss to be) and various other staff.
The first thing was an invitation by “OD” to take Anne and myself on
a full day tour of part of the district, which we naturally accepted.
En route OD had a great delight in asking us to pronounce the
(often lengthy) Maori names, on the AA road signs we passed and
was somewhat surprised that our pronunciation was practically
correct! In our innocence, all we did was pronounce this in “Dutch”.
That is to say the “a, o, i, u and e” sound the same in Dutch and
Maori.
“OD” decided to try us out on one of the more winding district roads
and asked whether we were inclined to be “car sick”. Both of us
said “no!” so we travelled back along the “Parapara Road” at the
time a twisting, tortuous, narrow metal road and survived that
challenge also.
On returning to Wanganui, he took us to his house for a “cuppa”
and to show us his pride and joy, his “vegetable garden” (we
learned later that without a proper “vege garden” you are not a real
kiwi. But now the “real world” beckoned and work had to start.
As I mentioned earlier, my direct boss was the Chief Draughtsman,
a position which had surveyors and young engineers under it.
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Most of the work in District Office dealt with roading and associated
structures ie bridges and culverts etc. Surveying, draughting and
design work was involved. I joined one of the surveying gangs just
as “one of the gang” and my first field job was cutting cross
sections through “old man” gorse on a roading survey with a
slasher as my “high tech” tool: blisters galore to start with ( a close
encounter with the golden hills we admired in Wellington).
I progressed fairly rapidly to having “my own” surveying gang,
controlling the field work and draughting in the office with some
basic design work.
Early on in my work the Chief Drauhtsman called me into his office
and asked whether in my studies I had dealt with “transition curves”
in road design. My “technical” English was rather limited at that
stage and I could not confirm that I had. When a bit later I got
involved with these curves in road design I realised that my studies
had covered these and advised my “boss” accordingly (they had
only recently been introduced in New Zealand road design,
replacing circular curves).
Pavement design was pretty empirical, with pavement thickness
based on experience with soil types. With my “soil mechanics”
experience I was asked to and wrote a brief report, outlining field
work, which could lead to a pavement design, using penetrometer
field tests.
Nothing came of this and this report is probably lost in the archives.
Not until many years later were field data collected for pavement
load and strength design, mainly based on American practices.
When working in the office, I also experienced first hand, the New
Zealand morning and afternoon “tea breaks”. With all the staff in
one room “yakking away” to one another I could only “switch off” in
the early stages. Although my “school English” was good enough
in a “one on one” situation, in a crowd I could not pick up any of the
conversation. It was like one great hive of bees buzzing. As time
went by I gradually managed to “join the hive”. Also working in a
“foreign language” environment was very tiring as I was continually
translating “in my mind’ from English to Dutch, formulating a reply
in Dutch, translating back to English.
It took a while to start
“thinking in English” as I have now done for years.
78
My very first “contract supervision” job just outside Wanganui
involved the construction of a small (a few m2 floor area) explosive
storage building in concrete. The contractor was a young builder I
later became friendly with. He had a workshop in town and allowed
me to use some of his woodworking machines. It is where I made
my very first bit of furniture, a small oak coffee table (now in use by
Helen).
Before I go on I better relate our experience in finding our own
accommodation.
As soon as I started work, I let it be known in the office that we
were looking for a flat. We also perused the newspaper ads daily
but had no luck. By the time we heard about it or phoned up all we
got was “just gone!” When our “free hotel” period expired, we
moved to a nearby “boarding house”, called “private hotels” at the
time. A lot cheaper and just within our range, although I can
remember Anne and I at night, sitting on our bed, emptying our
pockets and purse and counting out total cash financial resources,
which came to around two shillings and a six pence ($2.50 in
decimal currency). This was just before my first payday!
And talking about money, here I better make mention of the salary I
started on, £960 per annum. In decimal currency that is $1,920
New Zealand. At that time the New Zealand pound (£) was worth
ten Dutch guilders and the pay was quite a bit more than what I
was earning in Holland.
Now back to our search for accommodation. As people got to
know us the “time lapse” of our missing out on a “tip-off” became
ever shorter and finally we struck “gold”. A one room “flat” with a
closed in veranda as kitchen and shared ablution facilities (toilet
and bathroom) was still vacant in Gonville Avenue. We viewed it,
but “beggars can’t be choosers” so we took it and “furnished” it with
our meagre possessions, two beds, my drawing board, on a box as
a table, two folding chairs to sit on, a few “knick-knacks” on the wall
and our “Mechelse” cupboard. Our room was in the front of the
house and in the front yard were two old truck wrecks and the
“grass” waist high. In the back yard was a “mountain” of empty
beer bottles (several metres high). Our “kitchen sink” did not
79
connect to a drain, but spilled out on the ground. The husband
proved to be a logging contractor who was seldom home and his
wife was therefore the one we mostly dealt with, quite a pleasant
slender woman. Every now and then “hubby” was home (when
weather interfered with logging) and got stuck into the “piss”. At
these times we did not see his wife at all. Until on one occasion,
she knocked on our door and there she was, beaten black and
blue. Apparently “hubby” regularly used her as a “punch bag”.
With the shared “facilities” Anne hadn’t felt all that comfortable
before when “hubby” was home, but this was the end.
We had kept looking for better accommodation all the time and had
viewed a very nice house on No 3 Line but the rent was far too high
for us.
The owner was a minister of a church on transfer to another town,
had studied architecture before and built the place himself. He did
not want to sell the house and was looking for reliable tenants. So
regrettably we had to say; “we can’t afford it”. He suggested we
could share with another couple, as the layout of the house was
quite suitable, giving each couple adequate privacy. But we didn’t
know of anybody so had more or less given up on this “vicar
house”. But “lo and behold” one day we got a phone call from the
owner, still wanting us as tenants and he knew of another young
Dutch couple to share it. The long and the short of it was that we
met, found one another agreeable and moved in to the No 3 line
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house. A great relief, particularly for Anne, as for my work I was
often away from “home” for a week at a time, surveying in far away
parts of the District.
Before carrying on with my story I must record the time I was called
into the boss’ office after a weekend. By that time I had a “works”
vehicle at my disposal, which I was allowed to “garage” at home but
not use privately.
Somebody had “dobbed” me in and the boss told me “that my
vehicle had been seen and reported to be on a rubbish tip in
Gonville Avenue”. So I told him, “That is where I live!”
One tale leads to another. Talking about having the use of a works
vehicle brings me to how I got a drivers license.
The first day out with my own surveying gang, after loading all our
gear (instruments, slashers, tapes, etc) in the vehicle my gang said
“ok, you drive”, to which I replied ‘ But I haven’t got a drivers
license!”. “No sweat” was the reply, we will soon change that!” So
one of them climbed behind the wheel and the three of us all fitted
on the front bench seat of the Bedford Truck.
As soon was we were a reasonable distance out of town the driver
stopped and said “All right, you take over and we’ll tell you where to
go”.
We were on the way to Ohakune, so had a decent bit to travel. I
don’t recall whether the initial “take-off” was all that smooth, but the
good old Bedford was very tolerant and we were soon up to speed.
We were going to be up country for the week and my gang made
me do all the driving. We also picked up a copy of the “Road Code”
somewhere on the way, which I “studied” at night in our lodgings.
As a little aside, a bit about this accommodation. In those days
there was not a great deal of choice in a small town like Ohakune,
there usually only was one “decent” boarding house, to provide a
bed and meals. Apart from us, there usually were an odd travelling
salesman and always a small group of single school teachers. I
have never forgotten how this latter group always formed a “closed
clique”, which never tried to contact or invite any “outsiders” (like
us) to participate in anything (say an after dinner chat in the
81
common lounge). In bigger places we stayed in a hotel, but if we
were working anywhere near Taihape, we usually travelled a short
distance to Ohingaiti, where there were only a few houses and a
couple of shops as well as a very friendly family run little country
pub with about four bedrooms. The bar had one of the widest
selections of spirits and liqueurs I ever saw. But back to my
driving. It was not very long when my gang said that I was ready
for my test. They had quizzed me on the Road Code regularly so
an appointment was made with the Traffic Cop in Ohakune. The
excuse being that I was only home in Wanganui on the weekends,
when no testing was available. I duly presented myself at the
Inspectors office and after passing the Road Code tests, he took
me out to the Bedford. I had to drive around the block and pull up
in front of the office and that was it. I got my license, that was in
1952 (I now face my first compulsory 80 year old test at the end of
this year and thereafter every two years)
After a year in the Wanganui District Office I was transferred to the
Taumaranui Residency (one of the branch offices in the District).
Before moving there, just a few Wanganui memories which come to
mind.
Anne had found a job with DIC, a for that time “large” department
store in the main street of Wanganui. What surprised and
impressed management was that at the end of the day her sales till
always balanced to the nearest penny. It was absolutely unheard
of. For Anne this was second nature, as in Delft she had worked in
the Dutch Savings Bank as a teller and if at the end of the day a
balance to the nearest cent was not achieved you did not leave the
office until it was.
Another source of some additional income (over part of the year)
were the rose bushes in the garden of the house we rented. The
owner had told us they were one of the earliest roses in the season
and he sold them to the local florist shops. So, in season after
work or after dinner Anne and I were flat out cutting roses in bud,
wrapping and bundling them in dozens and placing them in buckets
with some water in the garage. I still remember my first “sales run”.
Before work with the buckets of roses in the back of the Bedford
truck under the canopy, I called at the first florists shop. “Are you
interested in buying some roses” I asked. The reply “What are
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they?” Me “Yellow ones from No 3 line”. Shopowner, “oh Lorraine
Lee’s”. Me, “Yes”. Shop owner “I’ll have X dozen” often also giving
a repeat order. The next shop I stopped at was easy “Are you
interested in some Lorraine Lee Roses?” and so on, until the “crop”
was sold. I don’t recall what price I sold them for but at the height
of the season we had up to 20 dozen a day and the income
covered a fair bit of out rent. I also earned some extra money
doing a “shelving” job in a chemist shop once. How I landed that
job, I have not a clue anymore. All I had was hand tools. This was
all evening work, after the shop had closed and was quite
extensive. The shop owner was very satisfied with the completed
project.
Another experience I have to mention here is our going to a social
Saturday night dance. We had become friendly with a local family
(as a contact either through my or Anne’s work) who were very
hospitable. I think the husband was a bus driver. Anyway they
invited us to join them to the Caledonian dance evening.
What an experience, all the men were on one side of the hall and
the women on the other side (and never the twain shall mix, apart
from when dancing). The “segregation” of the sexes, we found
prevailed for many years, at all sorts of social occasions we
encountered in New Zealand.
And when, later in the evening “supper” was announced, there was
one big “stampede” to the “spread”! (if you were slow or polite you
missed out). Finally I can not leave Wanganui without mentioning
our “rowing” experience there.
Wanganui, at the time, was one of New Zealands strongest rowing
centres with several clubs, I recall the Wanganui RC and Aramoho,
but I think there was a third one as well.
We “joined” the
Wanganui one. At least I could join. “A woman rowing” ha ha ha! It
must be a joke. It had yet to be seen. So they (the club members)
decided to humour Anne. Problem one: No change room for
women! It was solved and a single scull made available. Obviously
not the best one in the fleet and the rigging was set all to hell!
Anyway adjustments were made and Anne sculled away up the
river, much to the on-lookers amazement. She could actually do it!!
On returning to the clubhouse this was applauded and later at
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interclub meetings she was asked to and did demonstration rowing
at the regattas. Now of course women’s rowing in New Zealand is
as strong as men’s rowing.
I am not sure whether I mentioned the Wanganui interclub regatta.
I was talked into being a member of one of the clubs eight oar crew
with the assurance that it would only be a sort of “friendly rowover”, only a 1000m course (not the full standard 2000m one). I
was pretty hesitant. I was obviously out of training, was smoking
(I had started in late 1950 in Holland) and was out of town all week
most of the time, so could only join the crew at weekends for
“training”.
Well, the “friendly row over“ proved to be a flat out sprint race over
the full 1000m. How I survived and even managed to keep pace, I
don’t know to this day. Never again.
My rowing colleagues also introduced me to the New Zealand pub
experience. After a Saturday afternoon row it was common
practice to retire to the pub nearest the clubhouse to “bend your
elbow”. At the time it was still 6pm closing time for all pubs. On my
first visit all the crew had a beer and I was asked, “What you
drinking Henk”. So I said “I have a square gin (Dutch genever). At
which some eyebrows were raised, but my gin was duly supplied.
Why the raised eyebrows? Well the 6 o’clock closing was also
known as “the 6 o’clock swill”. As soon as your beer was served,
down the hatch it went, ready for an instant refill and a repeat
performance and so on till the 6 o’clock “last drink gentlemen” call.
My “mates” thought that I would match them drink for drink with my
gins. I think they were disappointed that I only slowly sipped my
gin and had a couple only by closing time.
Compared with some Dutch immigrants Anne and I were at a
distinct advantage, “speaking” the English language. I recall one
day coming across a middle aged Dutch immigrant in the butcher
shop, who only knew one word for meat “steak” and realising I was
also Dutch asked me in desperation, whether I could help him out.
His wife didn’t speak any English and he had to do all the shopping.
For months the only meat they had been eating was “steak” (mostly
tough). So I gave him a few tips and alternatives to ask for (there
were no displays in those days in the butcher’s shop window).
84
Taumaranui – Manunui 1952-54
About time to shift to Taumaranui. We were told that we would be
provided with accommodation, a small cottage in Mananui, a few
kilometres out of Taumaranui, to which ablution facilities would
have been added by the time we arrived.
Mean time we had became the “proud owners” of our first motor
vehicle. An old little Morris 8 with a “home built” body conversion to
a van. There were some memorable experiences with this
“vehicle”. I better put on record before proceeding I had bought
“the little beauty” (in my eyes) for the princely sum of £150; keen to
show it to Anne I had parked it in Wanganui’s main street at lunch
time, close to where Anne worked. I don’t think she could believe
her eyes after I had pointed out my purchase. Well, it had four
wheels and it went from A to B provided you knew some of its
idiosyncrasies. The colour was a dirty dark brown. But we had a
lot of fun with it. We carried a couple of beer bottles filled with
water at all times to top up the radiator. The clutch had a habit of
disengaging at the most inappropriate moments. However the
driver could rectify this, by quickly switching a small cover plate
(normally fastened on the floor with two bolts, but always only
“fastened” with one) between the drivers seat and front passengers
seats and fiddling the innards with one of your fingers and “hey
pronto” the clutch worked again. The back part was big enough to
get a double mattress in (and nothing else) and we used it on long
trips as a “camper”, piling all other gear on the front seats to be
able to use the mattress.
Here is what happened on one long trip, a Christmas Holiday. We
left Wanganui for Auckland. On the flat, once the revs were up,
the old bus cruised quite nicely, but when we reached the Bombay
Hill she slowed to a crawl (you could walk faster). I soldiered on as
well as I could, coaxing old “Morrie” and hoping the radiator would
last. You should have seen the queue by the time we reached the
top of the hill (in those days it was just a two lane sealed road, with
no passing bays or lanes and busy two way traffic). We visited
some of our shipboard friends in Auckland and left after a few days
to visit the Van Zoelens (Lucy and family) who were share farming
85
on the Hauraki Plains. It was now the “Xmas Break” when
everything closed down. So “Morrie” decided to play up properly.
Cruising along on the Great South Road, still in the city, I felt a bit
of a “wobble” so I asked Anne to look out of her window at the back
wheel and she said “You’d better stop soon or the wheel will fall
off!” So I managed to pull up on the side of the road and found the
wheel hanging on by one of the wheel studs. We had lost all the
other nuts and damaged the studs (see photo album 45-80). I
phoned Jan Knol (one of the shipboard friends), told him our
predicament and he would try one of his “contacts” and come back
to us. Well we were lucky. He found a place for repairs and
collected the damaged part (which I had meantime dismantled) but
it wouldn’t be ready until the next day. We were “parked” in the
middle of one of the suburbs commercial areas, in front of a church
property with a tall hedge along the footpath.
The church and adjoining vicarage were standing in the only “green
area” for miles! We had all our camping gear with us in the “car”,
knocked on the door of the vicarage, explained our situation and
asked whether we could put our pup tent up for the night behind the
hedge. No problem! Tucked-up in our sleeping bags, we quietly
enjoyed the snippets of conversation or comments from passers by
on the footpath who were quite unaware of our presence. We had
no worries about our vehicle, immobilised as it was on a jack and
three wheels only.
86
The next day our saviour Jan arrived with the repaired (welded)
part and after profusely thanking him we were soon on our merry
way. Hitting the Hauraki Plains we were not very impressed with
the scenery, commenting we would never like to live there. It was
too flat! We found the “Van Zoelens” on their farm. From there we
went via Tauranga and Rotorua to the Verboekets, also
“Zuiderkruis” shipmates. Mr Verboeket was in the same POW
camp as me in Bandoeng and was emigrating with a grown up
family. They were in Napier. A lot of the State Highway on this
route was still only metalled roads. A memorable occasion on this
part of the trip was an overnight stop in the “wop wops” on the
volcanic plateau. It was getting late so we pulled up off the road in
a small cleared area with some scrub and trees nearby. We dove
onto our mattress in the back of the van and were soon fast asleep.
We got up early in the cool morning and “surprise, surprise” found
that we had hot running water next to our “campsite”. We noticed
some steam rising in amongst the trees and on investigation we
found a “hot water” creek, much to our delight. We found the
Verboeket family and without further mishaps we got back to
Wanganui.
But back to my transfer to the Taumaranui Office. Our little Morris
8 brought us safely up there but of course the cottage had not been
added onto. It would be completed in the next financial year! The
money for this year had run out! The “cottage” was located at the
entry to the “single mans” Ministry of Works Camp at Mananui at
the intersection of the main North-South State Highway and the one
branching off to Lake Taupo, which crossed the Wanganui River
almost immediately (Important to note, see later)
It, the cottage, consisted of two single man’s huts, with a somewhat
larger central unit in between (exactly like the cottage we had the
use of from the Mountain family in years to come, at Ongare Point,
before I enlarged that one). There was a separate small shed
which held a tub, bath and night-soil can toilet. All camp “traffic”
came close by past the cottage. There was no night-soil collection
and very little privacy.
The workers living in the single men’s huts and their mates had a
party practically every weekend, which started Friday night after
87
work and finished in a drunken orgy on a Sunday at the earliest.
Although the King Country (of which Taumaranui was a part) was a
“dry area” at the time you could not buy bottles of alcoholic drinks,
only consume drinks on a licensed club premises and at home.
Consequently there were an abundance of licensed clubs and
really, this area was “wetter” than many a “wet area”. One of these
clubs (The Mananui Working Mens Club) was located across the
railway line opposite our cottage.
I don’t think I “blew my top” at the office, but must have spoken
fairly forcibly about the promises made and the lack of progress on
these for our accommodation. With the drunkenness in the “camp”
and me sometimes working Saturdays, the situation was not very
comfortable for Anne either.
88
I have to slip in the “night soil story” here.
With no collection, you were supposed to bury the contents of your
can on your property. The only problem was, that only a small area
of “our property” was diggable and that was our vegetable garden
patch. The rest was gravel and boulders (part of the old Wanganui
River Bed). So in the “dead of night” Anne and I carried our can up
to the Bailey Bridge across the river (after a bit of scouting by me,
to see the coast was clear) and with a quick “heave-ho” over she
went. For this there was a very heavy fine, but fortunately we were
never caught (we had some close shaves though).
When the night soil collection contract was due for renewal,
apparently only one tender was received and that was from the
“milk man” Jim Stephenson. He had the milk run contract and
proposed to get his milk truck converted to carry night soil cans
low down and milk on a top deck. This was obviously not
acceptable, so no collection. Jim and his wife Joyce also ran the
general store in Mananui, which was a short walk from our cottage.
We frequently called at the shop and they became good friends of
ours. They had their house in Taumaranui The Resident Engineer
L.P.Jamieson was “the boss” in the office. He had a “monster “ of a
4 or 5 years old son who managed to wreck any part of a car he
happened to be in (including his fathers “works” vehicle) Ken and
Dorothy Douglas ( Ken another young engineer at the office) and
Olga and Leo Lansdorp (Leo worked in a car sales place and Olga
did massages) come to mind as people we stayed in touch with for
a long time.
That was more than the night soil story “I slipped in ,so I better get
back on track.
The improvements to the cottage suddenly did not have to wait for
next financial year’s estimates.
Apparently some under
expenditure on a bridge job occurred and was made available for
the job.
A shower and toilet, off a small new entrance lobby, was added to
the cottage and a septic tank installed. Also a solid timber fence for
“privacy” was erected on two sides of our “section”. With the
cottage somewhat elevated you looked straight over the fence from
89
the camp access road (but at least it gave some privacy in the
garden!). We started fitting the “Kiwi mould” in that we had a
reasonably good vegetable garden here, after starting with one not
so successful, at No 3 Line at Wanganui.
Another aspect of the cottage worth mentioning is the curtains
Anne made for the small windows. For marking any survey work in
the field, red calico strips were standard usage. A bolt of red calico
was issued to me, which was torn into little strips as required. The
cottage soon had cheerful red curtains (we later heard that this was
fairly common in outlying MOW houses!!!).
What else about the cottage? Oh yes, I built a (loose standing)
partition between the kitchen and the sitting area in our “all
purpose” middle room, out of empty gelignite and nail boxes and
hardboard sheets.
With the addition to the cottage (toilet)
completed, the little shed became my first “workshop”. Our
furnishings were still very few and a dining table was becoming an
urgent need. What was available on the market did not appeal to
us, so I decided to build one myself. I always liked the Swedish
style furniture and I still had some Japanese oak boards in stock. I
doweled and glued them together and cut out a large round top.
For the legs I had a “brainwave” (they had to be strong and
slender) readily available hickory pick handles. Because Anne and
I are both tall I also made the table 31 inches high instead of the
standard 30 inches. The finished product only had one (minor)
drawback. The pick handles being so flexible, rotation wise, the
table was not rigid (it “shuddered” if you twisted it). Despite this it
served us for many years. Eventually, after close to half a century,
the top was cut in half and used as a fold down table when Helen
added a self-contained flat on her property at Poronui Street in
Auckland.
90
21 August 2003.
Anne meantime had soon established some nice flower borders
around the cottage, but did not have a hell of a lot to keep her busy.
And when one day she was in the garden and a passing train loco
driver waved to her and she waved back she felt she needed a bit
more “people contact” than this. As it so happened there was a
vacancy for a clerk in the “admin” section of the MOW office in
Taumarunui. Anne had no trouble landing that job and with office
hours the same as mine, the transport problem was also solved, as
I had a works vehicle available. Don’t think I mentioned yet, that I
had the use of an old Ford Mercury sedan for my work, which I
could take home as Mananui was some four miles away from my
Taumarunui office.
Anne was soon familiar with the office routine and with her usual
efficiency quickly cleared any work put her way, including bringing
any outstanding files up to date. One day, approaching the chief
clerk (for the “umpteenth” time) to ask what else she could do, he
cried out in desperation “For Christs sake, go and read today’s
paper”. It is obvious, that the job did not give much satisfaction and
some how or other Anne finished up dress making, working from
home. She had always made a lot of her own dresses and had
kept a subscription on “Beyer’s Mode”, a German fashion
magazine, which included patterns. Anne was competent in
adjusting these and could also make her own patterns, from
measurements of a person. I built a “cutting table” for Anne in the
“spare room” topped by an 8 feet x 4 feet sheet of hardboard.
Anne had no trouble attracting customers, including some regulars.
In particular, two young “girls”, who appeared to spend all their
earnings on new dresses from Anne. On the other side was the not
so enjoyable aspect, women who could not find anything in the
shops because of their “impossible” figures.
At one stage, Anne was earning more from dressmaking than me
as a professional engineer!!
Meantime I was getting involved in more interesting work. I had
surveyed and designed a major highway deviation, just south of
Mananui, where the road climbed out of the Wanganui River valley
91
up to the adjoining plateau. The job was approved by District office
and a contract let to be supervised by me. Also a new reinforced
concrete bridge (designed at head office MOW in Wellington) was
to be constructed across the Wanganui River at Mananui, to
replace the “temporary” existing Bailey Bridge.
At about this time (after a year in Taumaranui office) word started
to get around that my next transfer was on the cards, a move to
design office in Wellington. It was common practice in those years
for young engineers employed by the MOW (Minstry of Works) to
be regularly transferred to gain all round experience and to be
trained in all aspects of the MOW activities. It should be noted that
at that time, the MOW was the biggest planning, design and
construction entity in New Zealand. Many later consultancy
practices had their staff grounding with the MOW and many a
contracting business started off tendering for work, in the
knowledge they could hire any plant needed from the MOW.
With the emphasis on private enterprise in later years, this
Government Department, like many others, is now completely
demolished. It is debatable whether this has been to the benefit of
the country. I think it is fair to state that the early development of
this country’s infrastructure must be credited to the MOW and its
predecessor(s).
But I am starting to “philosophise”, so back to my story.
With the transfer rumours in the air, I approached my boss, the
Resident Engineer (LP Jamieson) with the request to stay put for
another year, so I could see the completion of my first major road
design.
This was granted and I also landed the contract
supervision for the new Wanganui River Bridge at Mananui.
What about relaxation? Well, in the winter it was skiing. Nearby Mt
Ruapehu was the big attraction. We were fortunate that an English
immigrant was going up to the mountain every weekend from
Taumaranui and he offered us a lift, on only one condition. We had
to have our own skiing gear as he did not want to waste time at the
hire centre on the mountain. So we bought some second hand
equipment and learned to ski. Eventually competent to use the tow
rope “ski lifts” to pull us up the mountain, so you could enjoy the
92
runs down the hill. We survived without any major mishaps. The
worst I experienced was slamming (sideways fortunately) into an
ice wall during “white out” conditions, where sky and mountain
become one.
In the summer we did the odd tramp. One of these was a traverse
of Mount Tongariro. From the road this looks the least spectacular
of the three mountains, but on top it is the most interesting, with a
multitude of small craters and brightly coloured small lakes and on
the eastern slope, the Ketetahi Hot Springs. It is on this tramp that
Anne developed a life long aversion to sardines. Our companion
and guide was an experienced tramper who had told us that he
would organise the food for the tramp and all we needed to bring
was fluids to drink. So at lunchtime out came he “food”, high
energy trampers diet: a large cake of chocolate and tinned sardines
in oil. Anne was sick after lunch, while our “mate” even drank the
oil of the sardines. Don’t ever mention sardines to Anne!
The Department of Conservation (DOC) huts at the time in this area
and elsewhere were very basic, corrugated iron with a fire place (ie
chimney) at one end and some bunks.
Another mountain “experience” we had was a period of eruptions of
Mt Ngarahoe, the most active of the three volcanoes. From our
cottage in Mananui, we had a clear line of sight and using my
survey instruments as a telescope, the eruptions at night were quite
spectacular, like big fireworks, when red hot boulders and debris
were spouting up high into the air.
It was in Taumaranui that we got to know Ken and Dorothy
Douglass and Olga and Leo Lansdorp. Ken was a young New
Zealand engineer, a colleague of mine at work. The Lansdorps,
Dutch immigrants, Leo worked in a vehicle sales business and
Olga was a qualified masseuse. At one stage I had some back
trouble and Olga cured that. When sometime later Ken complained
about his back at work I told him about Olga and he made an
appointment with her. After his first encounter he never went back,
not even to collect his towel he had left behind. He reckoned the
cure was worse than the complaint and thought he was being
tortured or murdered. No “kid gloves” with Olga and she used a lot
of iodine for heat.
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Just a few remarks about work. The highway job went smoothly,
but the bridge job developed into a major problem. It was a multispan reinforced concrete bridge, with several piers located in the
main river channel and some spans across the floodway on the
right bank of the river. The “Rope Brothers” got the contract (they
built many major bridges in New Zealand afterwards) and
construction of the abutments and piers in the floodway progressed
smoothly. Framework was well advanced and from the right bank
abutments out, beams and decking were partly completed, when
problems were experienced with getting the river channel piers to
depth.
With the bridge designed in head office in Wellington, they became
involved and the desired foundation depth for the piers was
achieved. However considerable (several months) time delay was
experienced and when levels of earlier completed work of the
bridge deck (which cantilevered out from a completed pier) were
checked, it was found that it had “drooped” several inches at the
point furthest away from the pier. Head office was supplied with all
the data and ruled that the stress created by this would be
unacceptable in the completed structure and that the work had to
be “jacked back” to its original levels. Easier said than done. It
became an interesting exercise with a multitude of jacks and
several level instruments involved, to achieve a gradual and evenly
distributed correction. This was achieved and the bridge duly
completed. We now come to the main event during our stay in
Mananui. Our first born, Helen arrived on the scene. She was not
positively planned, but all the same, most welcome.
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This certainly deserves a few lines in my story. First off, with
Taumaranui and Mananui located in a large river valley, heavy fogs
in the pre, post and winter months were a regular occurrence
(sometimes these lasted right through the day). When Helen
started to announce her “pending arrival” it was in the early hours
of the morning, we had to proceed to the Maternity Hospital in
Taumaranui. The fog was as thick as pea soup and the only way I
could drive safely with my precious cargo was crawling along with
my head out the window, watching the white dotted centre line on
the sealed road. We got there safely. Anne had a very hard time
of it and the baby also (two days in labour I think she was). On top
of that, when Helen eventually arrived, the doctor panicked and
spilled some ether in Anne’s eyes (which temporarily blinded her).
All was well in the end and on 26th October 1954 there were three
in the family.
While in Taumaranui we sold our “trusted” Morris van to Siep
Doktor, one if two Dutch engineers who had followed in my
footsteps to New Zealand, married Allison and eventually rose to
Chief Mechanical Engineer MOW in Wellington where he retired.
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Mangakino 1954
My second year in Taumaranui rapidly came to a close and the
next transfer was pending. I fully expected this to be Wellington,
but in stead we were placed in Mangakino. This was a village,
specifically built and run by the MOW, for the construction
headquarters and staffing in connection with a series of hydro
dams to be constructed along the Waikato River. Maraetai No
1was completed and Whakamaru, in full swing. The senior
engineer in charge of the project was Jim Macky. I was placed in
charge of what was called the Anderson “Shed” manufacturing
steel “penstock” sections.
We moved into a cottage in the “workers” quarters of the township,
as there was no staff house available on our arrival.
Shortly afterwards we moved to a staff house in the street, locally
referred to as “Snob- alley” - one of the older streets, with well
established trees and gardens, housing most of the senior project
staff.
As it so happened “our” house was exactly opposite that of “the” big
boss, the overall project manager and senior engineer. Apparently
a very junior engineer occupying this residence, was not to the
liking of some “senior” staff, who considered the closer you lived to
“the big boss” the better opportunity for “bootlicking” and “climbing
the social ladder”.
Anne became good friends with the big boss’ wife, despite the fact
that I put the garden hose on their dog, when he tried to use our
garden for his toilet.
While I and my colleagues had work, there was not much for the
engineers wives to do and rotating coffee morning between a group
in the street became a regular occurrence.
Before relating a bit about my work in Mangakino, I had better
record a couple of happenings at this house in Snob Alley. When
moving into it we experienced a problem fitting my home built round
dining table into the house (you may recall I made it a bit higher
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than standard height). After I had walked around the house several
times (with the table), trying every door and window, I finally solved
the problem by putting two legs though the glass of a fixed window
and rotating the table in through the adjoining open window,
reporting “a little accident” afterwards to the maintenance
department.
On another occasion Anne and I were walking on the lawn of the
backyard with some visitors, when I noticed a bit of a depression in
the lawn. To judge whether it might need a bit of fill to level it up, I
jumped up and down on it and suddenly I almost disappeared.
Instinctively, I spread my arms out as I fell through and these held
me up on the lawn. The others pulled me out smartly. Thank
goodness it hadn’t been little Helen. Apparently, one of the soak
holes for the down pipes of the house had eroded a path into a
“tomo” over the years. After some 17 truck loads of fill were hosed:
into the hole, the fire brigade stopped hosing in the fill and just filled
the hole up.
Now just a few lines about my work in Mangakino. As I mentioned
earlier, I was put in charge of the “Anderson’s Shed”, a massive
corrugated iron shed in which the steel penstock sections (18 feet
diameters pipe sections) were being prefabricated, by teams of
(first class) welders. Practically all of these had been recruited from
overseas, mainly the UK and Scots welders prevailed. A lot had
“leftist” political leaning’s, some were outspoken communists.
On my arrival in Mangakino (at my first morning tea staff gathering)
when asked where I was placed on the project, the “hub hub” of
conversation virtually came to a stop, when my reply was, the “A
shed” and pitiful glances were cast my way.
So it was with some trepidation I started my work there. It was not
until much later I found out the reason for the staff’s reaction.
Apparently the workers in the “A shed” were reputedly amongst the
worst agitators on site, causing or going on strikes at the drop of a
hat.
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The other reason I was somewhat anxious was that I had never
held a welding torch or seen any welding done, certainly not on the
scale involved here.
I was introduced by my direct boss, Mr Fisher, to my foreman on
site and to my predecessor, Mr Coleman, who familiarised me with
the work routine and left me to my own devices.
My office was a little hut, close to the big shed and my foreman had
an office partitioned off in the big “A shed”.
All work was done on a “unit rate” contract basis by teams of
welders (usually four strong) who had one spokesperson per team,
who negotiated unit rates with me.
Essentially my job was to have penstock sections completed on
time, in sequence required at the Whakamaru dam site and at a
competitive cost (within budget)
All welding was X-ray tested and any blemishes cut out and made
good. Some of the welders produced 100% X-ray proof welds and
I am sure, if it had been necessary, could have welded “hanging by
their toes”.
I soon settled down in my job, leaving the practical supervision of
the work to my very capable foreman who had a lifetime experience
in the welding industry. As a “professional engineer” I always have
had a great respect for the practical experience gained by
technicians and tradesmen in their particular field of work.
They often had come across “clever” engineering designs in their
lifetime, which may have been difficult if not impossible to put into
practice and would have found a way around the problem, often
simpler and equally effective.
In negotiating unit rates for various “types of welds” discussion was
on a “one to one” basis between me and the spokesperson in my
office. Once rates were agreed upon, discussions often ventured
far and wide, at time touching on political philosophies. I recall one
such occasion the man I was dealing with expressing his surprise
that I didn’t show him the door of my office (kick him out) when he
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expressed some of his strong communist view points.
My
response to that was “while you are doing work under my direction,
it is of my concern that it is to the standard required within the time
frame laid down and at the unit rate cost we have just agreed
upon”. “Should your team fail in any of this, I will want some
answers from you. However what you think or do after working
hours is none of my concern, it is a free country”. (Apparently my
pre decessor held a contrary view).
At the time “workers unions” were a strong force in the New
Zealand Labour scene and on the A shed site, there were several
unions involved in the operations with very strict demarcation lines
as to which union had to do a certain type of work. The “riggers
union” was particularly fussy about this.
At times this could be frustrating when the riggers on site were
otherwise engaged and a penstock section needed moving for the
welders to proceed with their work (despite the fact that they, the
welders, were quite capable to do the moving themselves).
Tempers flared if the riggers did not turn up within a “reasonable”
time as any delays affected the welders earnings, working on
contract unit rates. Any “demarcation” breach would lead to “down
tools” and a strike situation, apparently a fairly common occurrence
before my time at the “A shed”. Probably the combination of my
very capable foreman and a certain amount of tolerance from my
side, achieved a virtual trouble free workforce situation during my
time at the “A shed”, which was less than a year. More about that
later. First a few bits that stand out in my memory.
On the dam site, the penstock sections were unloaded from the
transporters (trucks) by cranes with lifting gear locked onto two
“lugs” on either of the penstock section located at the “centre of
gravity’ of the section. These “lugs” were welded on at the “A shed”
and part of my job was to calculate the position of these lugs. For
the straight sections of the cylindrical penstock units this was “easy
as pie”. But for the sections which formed part of a bend of the
penstocks, some complex calculations were involved. It was the
only time in the whole of my working career that I had to make use
of “advanced maths”. The need to accurately position of the lugs
on these penstock sections was brought home to me by an incident
at the dam site. A section of penstock (prefabricated before my
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time) was hooked up to the crane ready for lifting and when the
rigger in charge gave the crane driver the lifting signal, the
penstock section started to spin like a top. The rapid reaction by
the crane driver, accelerating the lifting movement avoided a
tragedy.
When I calculated the centre of gravity for this section I found the
lugs were wrongly placed.
The welders were making good money (well in excess of my
salary) but I reckon earning it. The massive corrugated iron shed
with large “doors” at either end was impossible to heat in the winter.
On a frosty morning, skin would stick to the steel if touched by bare
hands. The only “heaters” in the shed were 44 gallon drums,
burning waste oil which was dripped into them. At regular intervals
workers would stand around these warming their hands to get
some life back into them. In summer, the shed was an oven.
In the yards, surrounding the “A shed” where completed penstock
sections were stored ready for transportation, a “natural hazard”
existed in the form of “tomos” or underground cavities which had
been formed in this easily erodable pumice country. On one
occasion a section (several metres high) disappeared “overnight”
with only the top showing in the morning. The drivers of loaded
transporters were well aware of the danger and ready to jump out
of the cab if they felt part of their “rig” starting to “sink”.
All in all I had an interesting and enjoyable time at the “A shed”. I
was very surprised when on my leaving (after some eight months)
the workers gave me a presentation (an electric shaver) as well as
wishing me well. It was all the more valued when I heard later that
it was the first time ever in Mangakino that a farewell gift had been
presented to somebody who had been in the job for less than a
year.
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Paeroa & Te Aroha 1954-56
So why were we on the move again? Part of my coming out to
New Zealand for the MOW included a bond (for two or three years)
not to leave their employ. This time was now well past, so I was
free to “move”, subject to giving three months notice.
The career prospects with the MOW were very good. But it
involved initially being moved around every one or two years for
some ten years, to give you an all round training. After that, should
you wish to progress and “climb the ladder”, you would apply for
transfers to a higher position.
I had been “moving around” since birth and after talking it over with
Anne, decided a change of scenery would be worth pursuing, also
to “settle down”.
My first boss in New Zealand in Wanganui (OD Bell) who had
moved to become County Engineer of the Rangitikei County had
earlier approached me to become his assistant engineer, but the
area did not appeal to us. We wanted to be further north,
preferably near the coast. I kept my eyes and ears open for any
job vacancies and eventually applied for an engineer’s position with
the Hauraki Catchement Board (HCB) with Headquarters in Te
Aroha. The position was offered to me and I gave the MOW one
months notice. Initially I was stationed at the MOW residency office
in Paeroa to liaise between the HCB and the MOW, on the Waihou
and Ohinemuri rivers Improvement works (WORI). The MOW had
been in charge (design and construction) of all the work on these
rivers (stop banks and channel diversion) since its conception in
the early 1900’s and the HCB was in the process of taking over the
responsibility for these rivers.
Amongst others, I had to peruse some 40 year of old files, which
fully occupied a small building and most of these had not been
touched for ages. One year was “allocated” to this. I never got
through all of them, but managed to abstract some useful technical
data in whatever time allowed, as the HCB increasingly called on
me to investigate local problem areas. The Rotokohu – Kuaiti farm
area (close to Paeroa and the confluence of the Waihou and
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Ohinemuri rivers) which was subject to regular flooding was one
and the “Pereniki loop” and floodway on the Ohinemuri River (just
downstream from Paeroa) another.
Our accommodation was a small MOW cottage in George Street,
Paeroa (600 square feet, 3 bedrooms). The living room had five
doors opening onto it and really was a thoroughfare (I think we
used one of the bedrooms as a dining room).
While we were in Paeroa the HCB was building its first lot of staff
houses in Te Aroha in Poole Street, one of these was going to be
ours.
The HCB head office was housed in a converted two storey old villa
at the Southern end of town.
At the time there was only a small office staff. Mr Davies, a
Welshman, the Chief Enigineer, the secretary, Mr Walsh, a
hydrologist (Geoff Riddle) a South African Structural Engineer
(Brown), myself, a senior clerk and typist and in the Kerepehi office,
a senior engineer John Grindley (in charge of the Piako River
Scheme) and his office staff.
Those early years in the HCB were an interesting time, with basic
river data and behavioural patterns to be collected and established.
I supervised the construction of the gauging station on the
Ohinemuri River at Karangahake. On the Waihou there was a
station near Tirohia. Every flood flow had to be measured by
gauging if at all possible and in particular severe floods, preferably
at or near peak flow, no matter what time of day or night. The
Waihou and Ohinemuri Rivers system is an interesting one, in that
the Ohinemuri (the main tributary to the Waihou) is a rapidly
peaking “flood flow” river, fed by an almost circular high-intensity
rainfall catchment, while the Waihou river is a “slow peaking” one,
with a longer lasting peak flow. The worst experience I had was a
night time gauging effort of the Ohinemuri River, at Karangahake.
We received word in Te Aroha in the evening that the Ohinemuri
River was rising rapidly, with peak flow expected sometime in the
middle of the night. It was still raining heavily in the catchment
area.
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By the time we arrived in Paeroa, the only access left to the
Karangahake gauging station was to walk in along the railway line
from Paeroa. We had the heaviest gauging torpedo weight with us
(100lbs) and in full wet weather gear we trudged along the railway
line.
It was still raining when we arrived in Karangahake.
We
assembled our gear, two of us climbed into the small “cable car”
and moved out over the raging river, which roared below us with
“standing” waves. We had hooked up our heaviest torpedo weight
for the gauging, but every time we tried to lower it into the torrent
below us, it was tossed about like a cork. There was nothing for it
but to abandon the effort and tramp back to our vehicles, arriving
like drowned rats. A few days later I surveyed the flood gradient of
the river in the actual gorge upstream of the gauging station from
flotsam left behind during the flood. It measured an “unbelievable
gradient” of “one in fifty”.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
Just after arriving in Paeroa, a family across the road from us
welcomed us to the street and asked whether or not we liked
chicken to eat. A few days later (they had a chicken run in the
backyard) I was asked to come over and was handed a live
chicken! They obviously noticed my consternation and when told
by me that I had never killed any animal, not even a chicken, they
did the “dirty deed’ for me.
Shortly after arriving in Paeroa, an Engineer from England and his
family moved into the cottage abutting our back boundary. They
were Bob and Gerry Payne and their three young children, two
boys and a girl. They became good friends of ours. Bob
transferred to the MOW in Rotorua later and died unfortunately at a
relatively young age. Gerry remarried and we lost touch with her.
Another major family event occurred in that No 4 in our family.
Deborah was born in the Paeroa Maternity Hospital.
This
happened at just about the time that we were going to move to the
new HCB house in Te Aroha, one of a row of three or four staff
houses.
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We duly moved into the Poole’s Road house and the “raw” section
which we started to convert into a garden.
Meantime, in
correspondence between us and our parents in Holland, Anne’s
parents started to “drop some hints” as to when we were coming
over for a visit. Apparently when fare welling us in 1951, in reply to
a query from her Mother as to when she would see her daughter
again, Anne had said “oh, maybe in eight years or so”. This was
going to be a problem. No way could we see our way clear to
finance a trip like this for the family in foreseeable years.
I think it was some eight months after our move to Te Aroha, that
the South African colleague of mine at the HCB came to me,
drawing my attention to a “job vacancies” ad in one of the overseas
publications available to us at the Board.
The Iraq government was seeking “inspectorate staff” for the
Derbendi Khan project (concrete engineers, soil engineers and
hydrologists). He himself was interested, had spoken to Geoff, our
hydrologist, who was also interested and he knew I had soil
mechanics experience.
What about it?
So Anne and I talked it over, weighing up the “pro’s and con’s”.
The political climate in the Middle East was far from stable, even
104
then already. In the end we decided, reluctantly, to give it a go and
I put in an application for Soils Engineer (my colleagues also
applied respectively for Concrete engineer and Hydrologist).
Before recording what eventuated I better make a note of a few
happenings while in Te Aroha.
First off, we acquired our second car, my trusted works car from
Taumaranui, the Ford Mercury. I got wind that the MOW in
Taumaranui were going to have a “surplus plant” auction and that
“my” old car was going to be one of the items. Although she had
clocked up a few miles, I knew that the car had a complete
mechanical overhaul and new upholstery and should be in good
condition. I went to the auction in Taumaranui and got it “for a
song”. It served us well for the time we had it. The only mishap we
had is that one day en route to Paeroa the muffler fell off and
suddenly the full “lions roar” of the powerful V8 motor blasted
around the countryside. I made some profit on the sale, before we
left for Iraq.
Another event to put on record is my one and only cricket
experience as a “bowler”.
A “social” cricket game event was organised by and for the HCB
staff at the Te Aroha College grounds. Everybody had to have a
turn at bowling, but at my turn, after I had “bowled” my first ball, I
was smartly replaced. I “threw” the ball, according to all the
participants which is dangerous!! Well, I never was a cricket fan,
so what?
Also, while in Te Aroha, we met the Henwood family. How we first
made contact I cannot recall, but Pop and Mum Henwood became
our “ N Z grandparents”. “Pop” had an ice cream factory in Te
Aroha (taken over later by “Tip Top ”) and “Mum” was a “very big
lady” with a large grown up family. She was a marvellous cook and
had a commercial Aga stove in her home kitchen. They lived close
to us in Te Aroha and we were always welcome. She adored our
girls (She had mainly sons and one girl with a speech handicap.
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Iraq – Derbendikhan Dam 1956-58
So now what happened after I applied for the Middle East job?
04/10/03
(Note: Just back home from a week, visiting Jeanne in Auckland
and Helen in Mahurangi East.)
After a period of time a very lengthy telegram arrived for me from
Iraq, with a job offer for a two year contract (20 months work and 4
months “full pay” leave), first class return travel N Z- Iraq for family
and salary offered. The latter was more than twice what I was
earning. You can imagine the “small town buzz” that eventuated,
(No “privacy” law existed yet) everybody just about knew about the
job offer to the new “Dutchie” in town and from the Middle East as
well!! Both Anne and I decided to give it a go. But two problems
arose.
I was happy in the type of work I was doing and the prospect of an
interesting career in it. So I applied for “leave of absence” for the
contract period, should I accept the job offer. This was declined by
the Board. I could apply on my return, should there be a staff
vacancy, of which there was no guarantee.
The second problem was more severe. Neither of us was
naturalised, so we were still Dutch citizens (on a change of abode,
having to report to the local police station) and found out that as
such, the longest we could leave the country for was 18 months!
Any longer and we would have to reapply for entry into New
Zealand and join the queue!
Well, that was not on. Both Anne and I were adamant that if we
could not come back to New Zealand as of right, I would not take
the job offered.
Meantime I was having lengthy phone
conversations with the Dutch Ambassador in Wellington, who made
every effort to break the deadlock, but was not getting to first base.
I was a member of the Te Aroha chapter of the Junior Chamber of
Commerce (the “Jay Cees”) and during a casual conversation with
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some members at our weekly meeting night, mentioned my
problem and could not understand that this country, desperately
short at the time of professional engineers, would not let me
automatically re-enter after longer than 18 months absence.
Neither could the members of the club, so they decided that the
Secretary write to the Minister of Immigration in Wellington on my
behalf. Problem solved! Within a week there was a reply. I could
accept the job and after 18 months absence, all I had to do was to
go to the nearest New Zealand High Commissioner’s office to get
re-entry permits stamped into Anne’s and my passports.
That cleared the way for our departure. I gave notice to the Board,
we sold our car and a few bits and pieces. I think the Henwood’s
stored the few items we wanted to hang onto. They also saw us off
at Auckland Airport.
So off we went with two small kiddies in tow, Deborah really still a
“babe in arms”. It was October 1957. Just as well we travelled first
class! Even so, a baby bassinette was not always readily available
on the flights.
We changed planes in Sydney and had a stopover in Manila
(Philippines). It was longer than scheduled as the plane had some
engine problems. I contacted the local JC chapter and some
members promptly turned up at our “5 star” hotel. They insisted to
take us out but we couldn’t leave Helen and Deborah on their own.
So in the end I succumbed and went with them. They took me to a
court where a fast ball game was being played, I think it was
“Pilote”. Two opposing teams hurled a small ball backwards and
forwards using curved baskets, strapped to their lower arms.
Betting went on continually and as heavy as the New Zealand TAB.
When I came back to the hotel Anne had tried to get some soft
custard for Deborah to eat. That was “too common” for this hotel
and room service delivered a “baked custard sandwich”. Next day
some of the JC members saw us off at the airport and stayed for a
while after our departure, in case the plane had any problems and
had to return.
We had another brief stopover in Karachi of which I only recall an
impression of heat and dust. Finally we arrived at Baghdad Airport,
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expecting at least somebody to be at the airport to “welcome us”
but not a sign of anybody. Fortunately, some useful information
had been conveyed to us in New Zealand, amongst all the
telegrams sent. I remembered some Baghdad hotel names. After
collecting our baggage we piled into a taxi and sped off to the hotel
(forgotten the name now) in central Baghdad.
We booked in, got a room and the first thing we needed was some
milk for Deborah, who was just about dehydrated by now. It was as
if Anne had asked for the “Crown Jewels”. Fresh cows’ milk?
Goats’milk maybe. I think we just finished up getting some
reconstituted milk powder, better than nothing.
Next day I contacted the company’s Baghdad office (could not get
any answer on the day we arrived) and was told that “yesterday
was a national holiday” so nobody was at work, not even to receive
a family arriving from halfway around the world! And the little
Cesna plane to fly us to the job, had been booked for us and had
left empty, as we had not turned up. As well the little plane was
booked solid for the next two weeks, so the only alternative to
reach the job site was by taxi. In doing so we were advised to load
the taxi up with as many groceries and supplies as it would hold
above us and our luggage. Apparently the only source of supply
“on site’ was the contractor’s store which charged exorbitant prices
to non-contractor’s staff which we were (I was an employee if the
Iraq Government on the Inspectors Staff, supervising the
Contractor’s). Fortunately there was a major grocery store not far
from the hotel and we managed to get 300 UK pounds worth of
groceries in our taxi.
After a hot and tiresome trip of several hours we duly arrived at the
job site and were directed to the “upper village” for our temporary
accommodation in the “guest house”. There was no house
immediately available! As well, the guest house was not really fully
operational and furnished. We finished up in a room with two or
three single beds (not the same height) which we shoved together
to serve the family of us four (I think we slept across the beds). I
should explain here, that he “upper village” consisted of a group of
large houses and the guest house-come-recreation centre.
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It was going to house the permanent operations staff once the large
dam was completed. Meantime the houses were occupied by
some of the more senior married staff on the job. It was located on
a plateau above the river valley. The road from it to the “lower
village” descended very steeply and had several “hairpin” bends in
it. There was a regular free “taxi service” between the two
“villages” (big old American cars with Iraqi drivers – hair raising)
Practically all “on the job life” happened in the lower village which
was situated on the river valley floor. The main site office, mess
hall, bachelor’s quarters as well as smaller basic staff housing were
located here. Some of these were built from local stone (thick
walls) others were more composite materials prefabricated. All had
air conditioning (units which made a hell of a racket!). Also nearby
was the “Contractor’s village” and a scattering of mud huts, where
locals lived and traded.
The soils laboratory was located close to the main office. This was
where I went to work. The lab basically had to be set up and local
Iraqi staff trained, to do soil testing work.
The Derbendi Khan dam to be built was what is commonly called a
“rock-fill” dam. Although rock is the main component, it is a
complex structure with a multitude of “graded” material zones and
an “impervious” clay core. At the time it was amongst the highest
such structures to be built in the world.
When we arrived on site, the construction stage reached was
“coffer dams” upstream and downstream of dam site in place, river
diversion tunnel completed and excavation for dam footing and
abutments in progress. Site work went on 24 hours a day in shifts,
seven days a week.
Prior to construction work, several potential “borrow pit” areas on
the plateau, adjacent to the dam site had been identified for supply
of the “impervious” dam core material.
The soils lab had to further refine the study of these materials by
extensive sampling and analysis of their basic properties. The
consistency and variation of same, optimum moisture content for
compaction being a key factor. Also for field testing during
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construction of the “core”, some uniform grained sand deposits had
to be investigated for use in volume- measuring of sample holes
dug out of compacted fill.
Of necessity a lot of this work is repetitive routine work. This was
what the Iraqi laboratory assistants were to be trained for.
Laboratory equipment was substantially USA manufactured looked
very impressive, but I found in use not always having desirable
tolerances of accuracy. However a bigger challenge was to
impress on the trainees the need for absolute honesty when
collecting sample data. They were inclined to please, rather than
admit a mistake. They might spill part of a sample, brush it up as
well as possible and carry on (if nobody had noticed) rather than
discard the sample and start afresh.
Enough job talk for now.
We didn’t stay in the guest house very long. One of the (stone)
houses in the lower village was in use for storage purposes and
was being vacated for us.
The result was that we finished up, not with standard married
quarters issue, but with two of something and none of the other!
But it was a great improvement on the guest house. Anne also
managed to obtain the services of a “house boy” a middle aged
Khurd, who doted on children and loved to take Deborah for a stroll
in her push chair. Later on we found that he had left Khurdistan (in
Northern Iraq) as he had stabbed another Khurd to death (The
result of a family “blood feud”), an eye for an eye was a common
attitude for then). We never had any trouble with Adam.
I mentioned earlier that I was on the Inspectorate staff of the
project. This was quite a cosmopolitan group, comprising many
nationalities. The top man was American (The dam design was by
American consultants Harza Engineering). The two I/C also and
one or two others then Swedes, Danes, Irish, Scots, English,
Greeks, Dutch and New Zealanders.
Social life was pretty active; there was also a small swimming pool
and tennis courts in the lower village. Despite the temperatures
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reached (120ºF in the shade) in the summer, the latter were still
busily used. The heat was a very dry heat and provided you kept
your fluids and salt intake up, quite bearable.
In contrast during the winter there were severe frosts (night) and
even snow. And in the, all too short, spring the surrounding desert
came to life, with an abundance of wild flowers. The famous Dutch
tulips, I have been told, originated in the Middle East. I saw the
wild tulips in bloom, miniatures they were, but the flower shape was
unmistakeable. I tried to get down to the bulb and succeeded once,
30cm down into the rocky ground. This “flower show” only lasted a
few weeks and everybody went wild with cameras including me,
taking close ups of every type of flower showing (colour slides
being the “in” thing). We once again moved house (staying in the
“lower village”) further away from the main road and slightly larger
and also having a full compliment of all the “household goods” for a
married quarter.
A few houses down the row was a Dutch couple (Hoeke) with a
young son about Helen’s age and they encouraged their boy to play
in the sandpit with Helen, hoping that he would pick up the English
language! Surprise surprise, it was not very long and Helen could
happily converse in Dutch with the boy. And talking about
languages and kids there was another couple on the job, he was
English, she was Lebanese and both were fluent in several
languages (English, French and Arabic). They had a young son, I
think he was two or three years old, who did not speak at all.
Apparently at home they conversed in any one (or several) of the
languages, hoping that the boy would grow up multilingual from the
start. Instead he was totally confused.
Among the staff there were some characters. One, an American
engineer, Colonel Vance (they seem to keep their army title when
they had been in the army Corps of Engineers) who lived in the “top
village”, had his own horse and regularly went riding off into the
desert in his cowboy outfit. Also, it was reputed, he came out to the
job with several tuxedos in his baggage, expecting to be stationed
in Beirut, on the Mediterranean Coast, while being involved in his
work at Derbandi Khan!
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On the contractors side of the job there were quite a few
American’s employed. The Contractors village was near but quite
separate from ours. It also had the only “small supermarket” type
store on site.
The prices for contractors’ staff were heavily
subsidised. We could also shop there, but paid through the nose.
Because of this it was not very long and a group of us (the
Inspectorate staff) organised a “coop”. As required, a buying trip to
Sulamanya (the nearest reasonable sized town) was organised to
bring in fresh supplies for the members. Coming back briefly to the
American’s on the contractors staff (mainly operators).
It
happened, occasionally, that a new employee, flown out from the
states, arriving from Baghdad in the little Cessna plane had one
look at the job and the isolated location and didn’t even unpack his
bags. They were flown right back to the States, apparently part of
the contract arrangements at no cost to them.
07/12/03
Well I better carry on with this tale, otherwise I’ll be 90 before I
finish.
Still on the job in Iraq. There was one New Zealand engineer who
had been on the job from the start, Stuart Menzies, he probably
had been the deciding factor in me landing a position on the job.
One of the persons I had referred to in my application was Jim
Macky, one of the Senior Engineers in Mangakino. He was known
to Stuart Menzies and a reference was obtained from him.
Apparently in this, Jim had included that from the Dutch Engineers
who had come to New Zealand, I had impressed him as one of the
most capable. Several more New Zealand Engineers joined the
workforce in Iraq around the same time as me. Bruce Tait, wife
and young family (concrete) and Don Wilson come to mind. Both
came back to New Zealand (like us) eventually. Bruce finished up
in Wellington and Don in Auckland.
As I mentioned earlier, the staff was quite an “international
community” and an active social life developed outside working
hours, parties and dances even a “ball-costume”.
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I was fortunate enough to have a regular daytime job only i/c of the
soils lab. As work on the dam continued 24 hours a day, 7 days a
week, a lot of the staff were on shift work (shifts rotating regularly).
A lot of the talk, particularly among the men folk dealt with
cameras, both still and movie, electronic equipment and cars.
I was as involved as anybody else in this and soon acquired my
first 25mm SLR (Single Lens Reflex) camera a German Contaflex.
This was stolen and I replaced it by the 35 SLR camera I still have.
On the cinecamera front, the general local consensus was that the
NIZ0 was hard to beat. How I acquired mine I will reveal later. A
lot of discussion however centred about what car to acquire and in
our case, how to arrive at 12 months ownership of a vehicle to
enable us to bring it into New Zealand as personal effects. To
achieve this, we had to buy a vehicle while still in Iraq and on
completion of my 20 months contract work travel overland to
Holland. Both Anne and I were keen on that adventure and seeing
part of countries we were not likely to travel to or through once back
in New Zealand.
So I ordered an Opel station wagon from Germany to be shipped to
Iraq. Little did we know what lay ahead! The revolution in Iraq,
when the army took control (after murdering the whole Royal
family) took place about half way through my contract period. Apart
from a strict curfew being imposed on site and the presence of
soldiers, we experienced no immediate effects on the job. But it
certainly had a dramatic impact on any future plans.
As soon as communications with the outside world were reestablished I managed to first of all cancel the order for my car, just
in time to avoid any financial liability. That was a blessing. With
no certainty about order or chaos likely to develop the next thought
about most families including us was how to get woman and
children out of the country to safety. Fortunately the opportunity to
achieve this presented itself fairly soon and in August ’58 Anne with
Helen and Deborah left for Holland and were received with open
arms and a sigh of relief by Anne’s parents. The husbands staying
behind meantime had their own “emergency plans” should the
position become dangerous or untenable. We would “hike” to the
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Persian (Iran) border, although the terrain was pretty rugged each
of us had an emergency pack ready, to leave at a moments notice.
Fortunately the need for this did not eventuate and work settled
down into its normal routine. After Anne left, one of the bachelors
on site, Laury Donald moved in with me to share the house. Not all
the families left, one that stayed behind were the McIntosh’s, a few
houses down from mine (Margaret, Bob and their son Hamish).
Contact with the outside world in general returned to “normal” fairly
quickly, to the extent that I could safely plan for a brief visit to
Holland for Xmas 1958 to see Anne and the family.
Meantime I had wracked my brain, to see how we could still come
back to New Zealand with a new car. One way to achieve this was
selling or trading in a car which you had owned for 12 months and
replacing it by a similar sized or model new car. Time for this was
rapidly running out so I sent a telegram to Anne “buy a second
hand Ford Zephyr, before such and such a date”. When this
telegram arrived in Holland, Anne’s father commented “You’re sure
Henk is all right, has not got sunstroke or something?” but Anne
assured him that I knew what I was doing! So Anne and her father
went car hunting and located a suitable vehicle before long. So the
salesman said to Anne “would you like to take it for a test drive” to
which Anne’s reply was “I have not got a licence!” A very
perplexed salesman couldn’t quite fathom out why somebody
without a license would like to buy a car. Anyway the deal was
struck, Anne’s father drove the car home, gave Anne driving
lessons and Anne soon sat her test and got her license. It gave her
freedom of movement while in Holland on her own.
My Xmas visit to Holland also opened the door for me getting an
8mm movie camera, at direct ex factory price.
One of the German staff on the job had a contact in Germany and
arranged for the NIZ0 camera to be delivered on board my plane,
during the brief stop over in Frankfurt (Germany), en route to
Amsterdam. I would meet the contact over a cup of coffee in the
transit lounge and hand over the payment (I think it was in $US). It
was a total matter of trust, as I would not see my “merchandise”
until I boarded the plane again. To my great relief the “delivery”
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was made. Next problem would be, how to get it into Holland,
without declaring and paying duty, as I planned to leave the camera
with Anne when returning to Iraq. So I left the plane, with the carry
all case (holding the camera and all accessories) strap over my
shoulder.
Entering the arrival area at Schiphol airport, the ‘problem’ solved
itself. There separated by only a waist height “barrier”, were Anne,
Mum and Dad to meet me. I quickly took the strap off my shoulder
and in pausing said to Anne, “There, take this, will explain later”.
Went through passport control and baggage was just waived
through and met the family outside. That was that. Had a pleasant
break and a family reunion, before returning to the job to see out
my contract. Anne and the children stayed with her parents in Delft
initially, after they left Iraq. My parents had a house in Harderwyk
and Anne managed to rent a house in their area.
Some time after landing back on the job in Iraq I entered into an
intimate relationship with my very uninhibited near neighbour. With
her husband on shift work and my work involving only day shift,
facilitated our meetings.
Our confidence was badly shaken one night however, when
suddenly a merrily whistling husband came marching up the track to
the house, during his shift, and when he reached the front door, I
just had escaped through the back door, with, I hoped, all my
clothes bundled in my arms. I can still hear my heart thumping.
Our liaison lasted till we left the job. As it so happened the husband
and my contract finished on the same day as did I think it was Laury
Donald’s. Winding up our affairs in Iraq was still an anxious time. I
don’t think I mentioned earlier on, that from our earnings we were
entitled to transfer 50% overseas. For this I had opened an account
with the Bank of Scotland in the U.K. Any balance, from the other
50%, had to be retained in Iraq during our contract. At the end of
the contract, application had to be made to transfer any Iraq bank
balance overseas. How the bureaucrats in Baghdad would react
from day to day was anybody’s guess. However all went smoothly
for all of us and we happened to fly out of Baghdad on the same
plane.
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The overseas newspapers we picked up in Baghdad the day of our
departure, were full of articles about riots in Baghdad and the
countryside general. We never saw any of this and the airport was
normal.
Shortly after take off we flew into a horrendous
thunderstorm. The pilot had announced, there was no way around
it. The large 3 engined plane was tossed around like a leaf, and I
didn’t think the wings of such a plane could “flap up and down” like
they did, without breaking off. I must admit I and all aboard were
“scared shitless”. We got out of it fairly quickly and crossed over
the border of Iraq, Syria and Turkey.
At that point we finally relaxed and drank a toast on the completion
of our contract and an escape out of Iraq in one piece.
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Holland & New Zealand 1958
I flew on to Holland and rejoined the family. From memory it was
just the start of the main school holidays. One of the places Anne
had taken Helen and Deborah to on fine days was a swimming pool
complex in a pine forest nearby to where she lived in Harderwyk.
So one fine sunny day we decided to all go there. But we had
forgotten about the school holidays. You could hardly move from
the bodies both in and out of the large pool complex. We still had a
fun day, with some of it caught on the 8mm movie.
About the only place in Holland where you can still find some
privacy, is on a boat on the lakes and waterways. As a special treat
for Anne and me our parents promised to look after the kids, so we
could have a break together. We hired a small cabin sailing boat,
the “Ellebell” from one of the yacht harbours on the Loosdrechtse
Plassen (lakes). We had a glorious time with enough sun and wind
and a little rain (wouldn’t be Holland without it). The trouble was,
that when it rained there was a slight leak over one of the bunks in
the cabin. That must have been the cause for the “launching of
Judy”, as we only later discovered of course.
The time in Holland with family and friends passed fairly quickly with
no worries. We had a house, a car and my full salary kept coming
in for the first four months, but there after nothing came in, while the
expenses carried on. So towards the end of our stay I became a bit
restless. We had booked our return trip to New Zealand by boat –
the “Willem Ruys” and I had also ordered a new Ford Zephyr
from the Ford factory in the U.K. to be shipped out in the same ship.
(Ex factory price, no tax or duties). Next panic stations!! When
trying to pay for the car from my account with the Bank of Scotland
the verdict was, that my account was considered a New Zealand
one and my funds therefore did not qualify as “overseas funds”.
Telegrams flew backwards and forwards and I instructed the Bank
of Scotland to get clearance of my funds from the Bank of New
Zealand with whom I had kept an account open in Te Aroha. Later
on (when back in New Zealand), I heard that the Bank of New
Zealand staff in Te Aroha had been all a fluster when a telegram
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arrived from the United Kingdom, reply paid, with a request to clear
my funds held in the United Kingdom as overseas earnings. In
haste apparently, clearance was given (although later doubt was
expressed whether this had been the correct decision).
That cleared the way and a brand new (canary yellow) Zephyr Mk2
was ours. (The only new car I ever owned). Travel by passenger
ship is utter luxury. It was Anne’s first experience of it (the 1951 trip
to New Zealand by immigrant ship, was not in the same league).
Everything you need is cared for and we thoroughly enjoyed this
luxury end of our holiday. We disembarked in Melbourne with the
family to visit my two brothers, John and Tony, who at the time were
both share milking on different farms, not far from Melbourne.
They were on the quay to meet us. We had not seen one another
for years. Whether we joined the Willem Ruys again in Sydney or
flew the last leg to New Zealand I cannot recall. Anyway, in late
1959 we were welcomed with open arms by our New Zealand
“grandparents”, Mum and Pop Henwood, in Te Aroha. I do know,
that I collected our car from the boat in Wellington. Because it had
been used (briefly) on the roads in Europe, it had to be fumigated to
avoid any ‘nasties” being imported. But that was not done after
unloading!! I had to drive it
halfway across Wellington, to a garage which was authorised for the
procedure!!!! What a farce. But more urgent was my need to find a
job and accommodation for the family.
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Waihi 1960
I had been scanning the newspapers for a while (The Hauraki
Catchment Board had no vacancies at the time) and spotted an ad
for a vacancy in Waihi, Borough Engineer. Worth a try, as both
Anne and I would like to settle somewhere in the Northern part of
the North Island, but not in one of the major cities. We went for a
drive to Waihi, had a good look around and liked the look of the
place, so I applied for the job. Meantime we had found out that the
majority of the houses in Waihi did not have flush toilets and septic
tanks, but were serviced by “night soil collection”. Also there was
no house offered with the job in the ad.
So I went to the interview with two must conditions should the job be
offered to me. The Council to find me a suitable house to rent,
which had to have a septic tank!! The salary offered was about half
of what I had been earning in Iraq, but enough to live on and I never
have been chasing big pay packets! Well, the long and short of it
was, that I was offered the job and Council found me a house (with
septic tank) to rent at 22 Moresby Ave. the house belonged to a Mr
Binney, who had shifted to Auckland (I think he had been assistant
Town Clerk in Waihi).
I was to start work after the statutory holiday in the New Year of
1960 and in December we moved from Te Aroha to Waihi. Our
1959 Xmas was memorable all right, in that both Anne and I were
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slaving away to clean out the house and make it a “home” with the
bits and pieces we had recovered from storage.
The house itself was a solid old kauri villa, but in need of a lot of
TLC (Tender loving care). It had settled on the old timber piles and
in several rooms the wallpaper was ripped and hanging down from
the walls. The large kitchen was in the back of the house with a
miniscule sink and bench top (about 4 feet wide), in a lttle alcove. It
also had a coal range with a “wet back”, heating the hot water
cylinder. Between the kitchen and the wash house shed there was
an enclosed and roofed over area and through this and then the
wash house you reached the back door to the rear garden and there
in the full glory stood the little “outhouse”, with I admit a flush toilet
in it, which had replaced the night soil can!!
Also, as was common in the old houses, there were no built in
wardrobes in any of the rooms, only in the kitchen, some
cupboards. The house was big, with a rather awkward layout as it
was, but we felt had a lot of ‘promise’ and the location and views
from the garden we loved. So we decided to buy it and go to work
on fulfilling it’s promise!
House prices in Waihi at this time were rock bottom, after closure of
the goldmine in 1952. A lot of people thought Waihi would follow
other “gold towns” and become a ‘ghost town’. But, as Waihi has
shown time and again, it would not die. We bought the house for
1500 pounds ($3000), and before any inside work I had to start at
the foundations.
I must have been hard to live with at that time, trying to bury myself
in my new work and plans for the house, in an effort to forget
Margaret. I was still corresponding with her and her letters were
addressed to me at the Borough office.
This arrangement
‘exploded’ some time after the birth of (on March 1st 1960),
Margaret’s baby (Karen Fiona) , when the “postie” delivered one of
her letters, with a photo of baby Karen enclosed, to our home
address.
Anne quite innocently had opened the letter and
discovered my dalliance.
Traumatic as this must have been for her, and expecting our third
child, Anne stood by me, provided I promised to break contact with
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Margaret absolutely. I did this and stuck to it until many years later,
when I was well into my second marriage – as I will recount later in
my story.
On May 8th, 1960 Judy was born at the Waihi Maternity Annexe
which virtually convinced me that I could only father girls.
Waihi – arrival of Judy Henrietta Bange – 8 May 1960 (Mother’s Day)
A little aside to this, my cousin Jeanne van Bokhoven, who during
our absence from the country had immigrated to New Zealand with
her family, had promised to baby sit while Anne was in the Annexe.
I took Helen and Deborah with me to collect Jeanne in Auckland
and it was late in the day before we were heading back to Waihi.
The children were asleep on the back seat and Jeanne next to me
in front. On the old “State Highway straight” into Ngatea I had
dipped my headlights for oncoming traffic, when I suddenly saw a
vague dark movement in front of me. I applied the brakes, but still
hit, what proved to be a black cow, with my left front head light, in
the neck as it swung it’s head away from the car. I got out, severely
shaken (the kids and Jeanne were ok), and proceeded to walk to
the nearest farm house, where a light was showing. I got the farmer
out (with a gun) as the animal was in a bad way. By the time we got
back to the car, the animal had died. We managed to pull the front
mudguard clear of the tyre, the car started and steering was ok, so
we could thankfully proceed on our journey home.
We arrived safely and so did Judy at the Annexe. I found out that it
was legally practically impossible to claim damage from the animal’s
owner (if you could locate him), so my insurance company paid for
the repairs and I lost my “no claims” bonus. That was a bit of a
harsh New Zealand christening for the Zephyr.
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Waihi Borough Council 1960 – 1988
But first, let me tell you a bit about Waihi Borough, the reason why
they were looking for an Engineer and what I found when I started
work. Gold mining created the town, with initially many mining
companies operating or exploring the area in and around Waihi.
Eventually only one large underground mine remained operational
on Martha Hill, operated by the Waihi Gold Mining Company. This
finally closed down in 1952 after many years of closing rumours,,
year by year. Not only did the closing have a severe impact on the
town, the years of uncertainty preceding it had led to neglected
maintenance of all municipal services which existed at the time, and
they were far from complete. Land values dropped and as a result
rating revenue for the Borough was severely curtailed.
I should briefly mention here, that in the earlier mining days, the
Borough received gold revenue from every ounce of gold produced.
This income peaked until the 1912 strike and thereafter never fully
recovered, although it was for many years still very substantial. In
the early years it was almost “astronomical”. The Borough was
constituted as such in 1902. For a few years a qualified Engineer
was in the Borough’s employ, with an outside staff of around 80.
Following him, non-qualified “heads” of work staff were in charge,
some still called “Engineers”.
When I joined the Borough the outside staff of 12 was under the
control of a foreman Wally Bidois, a very capable and hard worker.
Apart from the mine closing, another aspect affected the potential of
the Borough. The town came into being under the Mining Act and
land titles were either R.S.L.’s (Resident Site License), or B.S.L.’s
(Business Site License). The former, on which a house could be
erected, were of a minimum size of one acre (0.4 hectare) and all
these licenses were 21 year leases with perpetual right of renewal,
at a forever fixed rental. For R.S.L.’s this was I think five shilling per
year and for B.S.L.’s ten shillings or a pound per annum.
These titles were therefore as secure as free hold titles, but the
word Mining in the “title” caused many sources of mortgage or loan
financing to shy of them (banks and solicitors). A saving grace, at
the time of mine closing, was the existence of the Akrad
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(electronics) factory in Waihi, although employees were
predominantly female. This factory came into being as the result of
a local young man (Keith Wrigley), with an early hobby into radios.
He managed to attract quite substantial contracts during the war
related to his hobby, and his Akrad Radio Factory resulted after the
war. They also produced a children’s bicycle for a while (a proto
type is still in the Waihi Museum). Well, in a round about way, I
have come to “Why was the Borough looking for an Engineer?”
It was about eight years since the mine closed, the town had
stabilised and needed urgent work to be done. Waihi was
surrounded by the Ohinemuri County, with head office in Paeroa,
who had a registered Engineer in their employ.
From time to time the Borough Council had called on his services
on a consultancy basis, with the County Council’s approval. The
Borough Council also paid some nominal fees to the County to
cover several Bylaw services (I think in the order of 50 pounds p.a.).
By now (1959), the Borough Council had listed a number of streets
in the town, they required to be brought up to a reasonable standard
and sealed. They could not pay for this out of revenue, so a loan
had to be applied for. The County Engineer compiled a schedule of
work, an estimate and a loan proposal for 60,000 pounds
($120,000). This was approved by the loans board, subject to
supervision by a qualified Engineer (for which the County Engineer
was not available).
So the Borough Council advertised for such a person and I applied,
after Anne and I had gone over in the car from Te Aroha to look the
place over and liked the general look of it. Lots of mature trees, a
green hill in the middle of town (Martha Hill), and what looked like
the ruins of an old church on the side of it (actually, the old
Pumphouse from the mine). To get a section (if available), on the
North West side of the hill to build a house on looked to us an ideal
location. How innocent were we?!!! It should be noted that at the
time there was no local information centre, nor did the Mining
Museum exist, to enlighten us.
I applied with some apprehension, as I by myself would be the
whole of the “Engineering Department”, and I had no municipal
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engineering experience. The salary offered was half of what I had
been earning overseas. But everything else fitted our wishes. A
small town, close to a beach, near enough to the larger cities and in
the Northern half of the North Island.
The whole Council interviewed me, mainly elderly citizens, with
Chris Christensen as Mayor. One of the requirements I had to meet
was to become “registered”, as an Engineer. This meant submitting
some reports and drawings of work carried out under a registered
engineer, a C.V, and attending subsequently what was called a
“professional interview” (P.I.), consisting of a verbal interview by a
panel of senior engineers and a written “report” about an
engineering problem put to you by the panel.
The earliest an application could be made for the P.I. was after
three years experience, following university. By now I had eight
years experience, but had to fall back on my earlier New Zealand
work period. All the material submitted had to be signed by the
applicable engineer, I had worked under at the time.
I managed to get all this together, attended my P.I. in Wellington
and became registered in May 1963. I don’t recall anything about
the verbal part, but clearly recall the written part. The question was:
As Borough Engineer you are to report to Council on a water supply
development for the Borough, and outline the “pros and cons” of a
gravity supply from a hill catchment or a pumped supply from a
river”. How appropriate, that this became one of my biggest
“battles” with Council, later in my career. From here on I will have to
skip some of the minor details and stick to the highlights or I will not
finish this tale of mine. (It’s now late January 2004 and earlier this
month I had some very enjoyable 80th birthday celebrations).
I have earlier told about “the state” of the house in Waihi we bought,
and I should now briefly describe “the state” (existing) Borough
services were in:
Roads: Apart from the State Highways (No.2 and 25), through the
town (Parry Palm and Seddon Avenue and Kenny Street East of
Rosemont Rd) – Walmsley Road, there was not a metre of old
sealed roads without pot hole on pot hole, including the main
shopping street, Seddon Street.
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Kerb and Channelling: High kerbs and deep channels (concrete) in
poor condition in the central area of town mainly.
Footpaths: Some sealed footpaths in the central area of town,
remnants of old sealed footpaths mainly overgrown in various
places.
Road verges:
Heavily overgrown, in tall grass and weeds,
occasionally cut by tractor bar mowers.
Street lighting: 100 watt bulbs in open shades on most road
intersections only.
Storm water drainage: Some remnants of originally installed glazed
earthenware pipes (early 1900’s) remaining. Collapsed square
wooden box culverts replaced by concrete pipes bedded on the
timber floor of the old box, thus reducing the carrying capacity
dramatically (by some 40%).
Bridges: Generally in poor condition and/or “one way” structures.
Sound ones, generally inadequate “waterways” (flood discharge
capacity).
Waste disposal: Human wastes by night soil collection disposed of
on “Borough farm” (cut and cover trenches), several km’s out of
town. Garden and general household wastes – no collection. To
be buried on site. Wide spread practice; thrown out on road reserve
fronting house.
Water supply: Source, two hillside catchments close to town. The
Walmsley intake, small dam and spillway constructed by Waihi G.M.
Co in early 1900’s, limited storage capacity and Waitete intake, run
of stream, through small weirs. Trunk mains to town, from
Walmsley, twelve inch diameter rivetted steel pipes, in extremely
poor condition.
From Waitete six inch diameter fibrolite pipes. This latter supply
was instigated by Councillor Owen Margan, only a few years before
I came to Waihi, to somewhat alleviate the water shortages
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experienced each summer by the town. Some further comments on
this later.
Water reticulation: Substantially the original, cast iron– lead –
jointed network, for pipe diameters from four inches (100mm), up
and galvanised iron pipes for smaller diameters and service
connections. All of these pipes suffered from sever “tubercular
growth”, restricting their original carrying capacity and causing
frequent blockages in service connections.
Council had started on a replacement programme of the C.I. mains
by fibrolite pipes. However in doing so, reticulation major valving
had practically been eliminated, to save costs. As A consequence
in the event of a reticulation failure and repair, water shut downs
often had to extend over large areas, affecting many consumers.
New service connections were made in copper piping
and
replacement of old galvanised pipe services by copper piping was in
progress.
The water supply was untreated, “run of stream” raw water.
Abattoir: A small Abattoir, serving local butchers and private
slaughter, was operated by the Council south of Parry Palm Avenue
near the Waitete stream. (Now the land is occupied by Industries
and the Refuse Transfer Station). All wastes discharged into the
adjoining paddock.
Cemetery: Some two km out of town. Old parts heavily overgrown.
Newer “semi-lawn” part mown.
Old large macrocarpa trees
surrounded and part shaded the whole cemetery, with rank weeds
and blackberry growth in between.
You can see from the above, that there was no fear for a shortage
of work for me to bring Waihi up to scratch. Two further factors
aggravated the “problem” as to how to go about it.
Firstly; limited finance. Because of the low property values after the
mine closing, rating revenue was limited, even with rates set at
100% of the legal maximum permitted. Council had to fight an uphill
battle to attain rating revenue to this level as “gold revenue” had
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provided the bulk , if not all, of the Borough’s finances for many
years.
As this source gradually dwindled and eventually
disappeared, rates revenue became the only annual source of
finance available.
Secondly; For it’s size the Borough was heavily “over roaded”. This
was brought about by the original subdivision layout of the town with
minimum one acre lots for residential section. It virtually had double
the length of roading per head of population as other similar sized
(population wise) rural towns.
Consequently twice the length or amount of every municipal service,
per head of population, had to be provided (or improved), and
maintained, compared to these other small towns.
Furthermore, most small towns accommodated growth, through the
subdivision of adjacent vacant (often rural) land, usually requiring
new roading and services, which had to be provided at the
developers cost.
No such costs contributions were available to Council in Waihi, as
practically all subdivisions resulted from splitting up of the original
“one acre lots”, all on ‘existing” roading and services.
As if all this was not enough for me to cope with, the Town Clerk
(Ken Bargh, close to retirement age), in his ‘wisdom’ had terminated
the arrangements with the County Council, for the part time
provision of various services, thereby “saving” some money, and
had loaded those responsibilities on to me, amongst these were
building and general bylaw inspection.
What about old records? I found out that for years the filing
‘system’ had consisted of bundling all papers pertaining to a rating
year, tied up by string and marked for that year. There was a room
full of these bundles as well there were some old engineering plans.
I sorted through the latter and retained a small amount of mainly old
roading survey plans, which contained some historical information.
After the initial tidying up and ‘finding my feet’, I started up two basic
filing system; one for individual properties based on street names
and numbers, cross referenced to valuation numbers, and one
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system for subdivisions. No effort was made to recover predated
records, but if any surfaced they were added to the systems.
I had a total ‘works’ staff available of around fourteen, this included
one ‘street cleaner’ (who looked after the footpaths and gutters in
the central shopping area and the men’s public toilet on the corner
of School Lane, next to Allan Dean’s building) and one sexton (who
dug the graves and mowed the semi lawn part of the cemetery),
leaving an effective staff strength of twelve.
Although there was enough work for several times this number,
Council’s revenue as it was, left little enough money to supply even
the small staff with materials for any improvement works.
The response, to any complaint received at the Borough office, in
the past had been, to send a few workers around with a shovel. In
nine out of ten cases they could not do much to alleviate the
problem.
As well this use of ‘human resources’ did not do much for staff
morale. To change this waste full practice I decided to follow up
any complaint I received at the office in person. I did this at least for
the whole of the first year, explaining to the property owner, that
little if anything would be achieved if any of my workers were sent
out to him or her, but given some time, permanent improvement
work would be carried out. I found, that practically every rate payer,
thus approached was agreeable and willing to be patient.
With a high proportion of elderly and retired people living in the town
a major complaints category dealt with the condition of and the lack
of footpaths. (When the mine closed in 1952, house prices in Waihi
reached rock bottom and quite an influx of elderly people resulted;
selling their Auckland property, buying in Waihi and having some
capital to spare or invest).
Although both, “above ground” as well as “under ground” services
required major and urgent attention, I realised that ‘above ground’
work had to be the first priority, being more in the public eye and
likely to result in improved staff morale.
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With the ‘roading loan’ already providing for some street sealing I
therefore concentrated on compiling a footpaths programme. I also
knew that this had to be ‘soundly based’ as to priorities, to avoid
endless argument at Council meetings.
To this end I analysed the whole residential area of the Borough as
to density of development, both “area wise” for each block
(surrounded by formed roads), as well as ‘frontage wise’ along each
street. This allowed me to list each street section in priority order.
Overriding this, was a proposed network of ‘feeder footpaths’ from
outer areas to the shopping and business, centre of town. As well I
proposed an initial ‘one sided’ footpath development in each street.
Apart from a listed schedule of each street block in priority order, I
also prepared a colour coded plan covering the Borough.
Although footpaths were urgently required, ‘foot traffic’ density in all
residential areas was likely to be light. I further proposed therefore
that footpaths would be of concrete construction, more expensive to
construct than sealed footpaths, but cheaper in the long run and
outlasting sealed paths. A brief historic note here;
In it’s prosperous early mining years, Waihi Borough had some 40
miles of sealed footpaths, when Hamilton had only five miles. The
Borough operated its own gas works and tar from these was used.
Very few of these paths remained, when I started work in 1960 and
later when road verges were tidied up, remnants of old sealed
footpaths were often unearthed. Council closed its gas works in
1951.
It had the dubious reputation of having the largest
unaccounted for gas losses in the country.
Back to the story:
Council was only to happy to approve my plan and thereafter
progress was only dictated by annually available finance.
Rather than engaging contractors, I had our own staff doing the
work, after design levels were established by me, allowing for
eventual road widening, strengthening and final kerbing- Reusable
angle iron formwork was later introduced and ready mix concrete
was used, when a local plant was established in Waihi.
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The staff had pride in their work, it lifted their morale, as often they
received praise from nearby residents.
28/03/04
I think, to avoid jumping backwards and forwards during the
remaining part of my story, which still has half my present lifetime
(some forty years) to go, I will cover my long stay in Waihi and my
eventual departure, by splitting it into several broad categories.
i. 1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
The Council and staff
My 28 years work for the Council
Industries
Family and outside interests
Retirement
1960-1988
1960-1988
1960 - present
1988 – present
1. Council and staff 1960-1988
In the 28 years, I served under a succession of Mayors, starting off
with Chris Christensen who owned and operated a saw mill and
timber treatment plant in Waihi.
Chris chaired Council meetings by listening to all Councillors having
their say, before opening his mouth. He had the ability to then sumup a clear consensus.
Following Chris there were Albert Thomas (Waihi Timber and
Joinery Co owner), generally more autocratic in his approach; Allan
Dean (Private Accountancy firm), generally more relaxed approach,
emphasis on economics of operations. Allan’s hearing deteriorated
to such an extent, he stood down as Mayor, but remained on
Council, and finally Owen Morgan; very tenacious and even with no
initial support from his Council, never “giving up” in pursuing his
own viewpoint.
I also worked with a succession of Town Clerk’s, generally
considered C.E.O’s of Council.
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Starting off with Ken Bargh (not necessarily in that order) there were
Pat Whelan, Eirov Grabham, Lloyd Leman, Bob Freeman and
Richard Penfold.
Generally I had a good working relationship with all of them, except
one (Lloyd Leman). Fortunately he only stayed for one year, any
longer and a major clash would have erupted between us.
As time went by and the town re-established itself, office staff
increased. From a staff of; the Town Clerk (T.C), myself (B.E) and
two office girls (Typist and public counter) it grew to 3 office girls, an
Assistant T.C, an Engineer’s Assistant, a Building and a Health
Inspector jointly with the Ohinemuri County.
In 1960 the Borough Council building (now ‘The Chambers’
restaurant) also housed the Library, run by one Librarian (Rex Bell).
Now the Library is housed in what used to be the BNZ building,
which Council purchased when the BNZ relocated to its present
site, run by the Librarian (Norma Aken) and an assistant.
One of the longer serving Assistant Town Clerks, still there when I
retired, was Gary Patterson. I had a very good working relationship
with Gary, even more so, after computers were introduced to the
office. He was extremely keen to find out what these “tools” could
or could not do.
With my “department” or rather me being involved in the major
expenditure part of any revenues available to Council, I was
intimately involved in the annual estimates, as well as keeping an
eye on running expenditure during the year (month by month). This
was particularly relevant to Subsidised Works (attracting preset
annual Govt Funds) which if overspend did not attract extra
Government Funds and if underspend did not allow to claim all the
Government Funds allocated.
When the manual accounting system was replaced by computer
programme’s, the first time I received budget info from Gary, an
almost one inch thick computer print out appeared on my desk. I
threw up my hands in horror, went back to Gary and said; “All I
want is summary figures of the various accounts”. Gary replied; “I
don’t know whether that is possible, but I will try”.
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Before long Gary discovered, that the computer programme allowed
for such a summary to be produced and from then on, the print out I
needed and got was only a few pages long.
The above is just a small example of the general cordial and
cooperative atmosphere in our office as a whole. In other
authorities, often rivalry existed between the administrative and
engineering “departments”, in turn leading to friction.
A somewhat extreme case occurred in the nearby Thames
Borough, where for years the Town Clerk and Borough Engineer,
mutually, only communicated by written memos to one another.
Other points worth of record are some of the differences, which
existed between urban (Borough’s and cities) and rural (counties)
Territorial Local Authorities before the reorganisation into cities and
Districts in the late 1980’s.
• First of, Municipal Authorities and Counties had their own
separate Annual Conferences. As of right Mayors and Town Clerks
attended the former, while County Chairmen, Clerks and Engineers
attended the latter.
These conferences were the major annual political forums and
representation, as outlined above, was probably one of the reasons,
that the Municipal Engineers Institute had less “political clout”, than
the County Engineers Institute.
• A lot of urban authorities, particularly smaller towns, had their
meetings in the evenings, while Counties generally had daytime
meetings.
• “Engineering” wise, Counties work substantially dealt with
roading and associated works, while Municipal work encompassed
a very wide field of services.
As time went by this difference became less and less pronounced,
as urban developments within Counties demanded modern
services.
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That is enough about “Council”, back to “Staff”.
After a number of years, Council supported my need for an
Engineers Assistant, as I became more and more involved in
planning and management.
I had several; Denis Smith who was “head hunted” by Paeroa
Borough, Peter Newton who left for greener fields and for the latter
years Wojtek Michalek, a registered surveyor who went to Papua
New Guinea. He was one of the Polish Refugee children (2nd WW),
who were brought to NZ. His hobby was scuba diving, which he
enjoyed to the full in the islands around PNG, with a multitude of
wartime ship and aircraft wrecks.
Some of the Inspectorate Staff come to mind, Dick Veen, the result
of a “pressure-cooker” Health Inspector’s Course. He did not last
very long (more interested in land speculation). Bob Quantrill a
Health Inspector (hard to nail down) still there when I retired, as was
Bill Aken, our Building Inspector for many years. (His wife Norma
was and is the Librarian in Waihi). He was a conscientious worker,
fair and capable.
And finally there were my foremen or overseers. When I started in
1960, it was Wally Bidois, an ex Goldminer, a hard worker who
could turn his hand to anything. He was the one who showed me
how to fix a “pinhole leak” in the old steel Walmsley Water main.
Sharpen a dry Manuka stick and tap it into the hole.
He knew the position of every water pipe and old gas mains in town.
After his retirement I had planned to keep him on a small annual
retainer, so I could call on his knowledge if and when required.
Unfortunately Wally died very shortly after his retirement.
Wally had a small cyst (I think in one of his legs) for years, that he
could live with, but after he retired, decided to have surgically
removed. All went well, but Wally was not one to sit still for very
long. He was a very keen gardener with a large vege plot on his
section on Victoria Street. A few days after his small “op” he
decided to do some work in his garden where he suddenly
collapsed and died – A blood clot!!
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Wally’s successor was Bill Flutey, with a Contractor’s background.
He was also good value and still there when I retired.
Before starting on my next “category”, just a few reminiscences that
come to mind, still dealing with Council and staff.
Initially Councillors were substantially “volunteers”, standing for
election because of a genuine interest in the community (they
received only a nominal meeting allowance). Over the years this
gradually changed and after the reorganisation of Local Authorities
(just after I retired) Councillors are now drawing an annual
remuneration.
Occasionally persons stood for Council, having an “axe to grind”. If
elected at all, they normally did not last very long (3 year terms).
The Waihi Council and Committee meetings (generally one of each
monthly), were held in the evenings, allowing ordinary working
(wage earning) people to stand for Council.
One such person, I have to single out and mention here, is Mary
Williams. She worked at the Akrad Factory, a Councillor for many
years, extremely fair and with a lot of “common sense”. I had a
great deal of respect for her. Another Councillor Doug Saunders,
who had to step down from Council because of a conflict of interest,
(his firm, Provincial Plumbers tendered for Council contracts)
became my lifelong friend.
Right from the beginning of my employment, the last Council
meeting of the year (before Christmas) was kept to a minimum,
business wise, and following closure of the meeting Councillors,
Senior Staff and Press Representatives started to “unwind”, and a
good time was had by all. Myself and the Town Clerk were usually
responsible for seeing to it, that the Council Chambers were tidied
up and the building left secure.
I recall that on one of these occasions I finished up driving several
Councillors and the Mayor home, each in turn, as they were not
capable to drive themselves home. Included in this was also the
newspaper reporter of long standing, Helen McCombie who then
lived in Grey Street, in the “East End” of town. The next day I
heard, that after I had dropped her off at home, she had “walked”
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back into town to pick up her car (a little Volkswagen) and driven
herself home. That was the last time I gave her a lift!!!
The outside staff also had an “end of year do”, at the Borough
Depot, to which the whole office staff was usually invited and later
on wives and partners were also included.
This always included a “hangi”, which was hard to beat, put down
during the day by some of my workers.
So it was not always “all work and no play” which brings me to my
next “category”, notes on:
2. My 28 years work for the Waihi Borough Council
As earlier outlined, there was plenty of it. To start with a few
general remarks. My office space over the years; I started off in “a
little cubby hole” next to the front entrance of the Council building. It
had a door to the public lobby and a door to the main office, with
just enough room for a desk and chair and a visitor’s chair. It faced
the street and a narrow space between the front of the building and
the massive office safe (small concrete room) provided some room
for storage and filing, (in the current “Chambers Restaurant”, I think
this is now the Manager’s office).
My next office space was the room, to the north of the Council
building, which had been the Council Gasworks Showroom, turned
into a general junk room. After clearing out the debris and
safeguarding some old plans, I moved in here. It had a connecting
door to the main office, but also a direct access door to the street
and a rear door to the outside as well. (Escape routes from irate
ratepayers). I later shared this room with my assistant.
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Eventually I finished up with my own office in the main building,
adjacent to what had always (in my time), been the Town Clerk’s
office. This happened after the Library moved out of the building
and major alterations were made to it.
The “Council Chambers” were moved to where the library had been
(southwest corner of the building) and the old Chambers made into
office spaces for my assistant and the Health and Building
Inspectors with counter access to the public lobby. (The “official
grog” space was provided for by a small lock up cupboard, “The
Mayors Cabinet”, adjacent to the Chamber)
Now a few words about some “archaic” arrangements which existed
when I arrived on the scene.
Council had its own petrol pump, adjacent to the Council office
building, with the key held by the Town Clerk. Every driver requiring
petrol, got the key, filled up, signed the record book at the office,
handed back the key and went back to work. The tally, between
petrol pumped and bulk delivery made, never equated. There were
always unaccounted for losses (vent pipe evaporation and/or
underground tank leaks??).
So Council agreed to do away with its own pump (and worries) and
our plant filled up at the public pumps at Morton’s Garage, who also
did most of our routine plant maintenance.
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Another practice which existed was, that if any of the outside staff
required some materials or small item from a local shop, they had to
call at the office, to get an “order form” from the Town Clerk, then go
to the shop or depot and back to work.
I changed that, so that each individual worker could purchase
directly, what was required for the job they were on, up to a given
limit (I think it was around 20 dollars -£10 at the time) provided they
signed for it at the shop and noted the job it was for.
Another aspect, which was totally lacking when I started, was
forward planning. The T.C (Ken Bargh) brought every letter and
circular received at the office during the month to Council. Made for
a large agenda and a lot of wasted time.
A typical early example of this lack of planning was, that in 1962 the
Council suddenly decided that they wanted to celebrate the
Borough’s Diamond Jubilee which was due in … 1962! No
provision in the annual estimates, so what! Mister Borough
Engineer, please get cracking!! So we had a Jubilee, which I partly
recorded with my 8mm movie camera.
At the end, to fill up the film, I had filmed Helen and Deborah playing
on the edge of what was called “The Mine Lake”. I offered to show
the film at a Council meeting, following the Jubilee celebration,
which Council accepted. Afterwards the Councillors “to a man” (and
woman) asked where the lovely spot was, showing the children
playing in the water?? To which I replied, “That is a beauty spot, in
the middle of your town”. Well, they never!!
Back to work. I earlier already outlined my initial approach to the
“mountain” of work required in the Borough. In a small way, starting
with surface improvement works of a permanent nature requiring a
minimum of follow up maintenance work. The flagship of this was
the concrete footpath programme. I purchased a good quality
dumpy level for this.
A considerable amount of preparatory survey work was involved, as
I refused to follow the example of the one concrete footpath laid in
the Borough (along Kensington Rd) before I came on the scene.
The property owners had offered and contributed half the cost,
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Council met the balance. County staff had set out the path, with no
relation to overall final permanent development of the full road
reserve.
Practically every road in the Borough required
strengthening and widening and (eventually) kerbing and
channelling. The latter, in most places, had to be considered a
“luxury” for Waihi, as of necessity it would “simultaneously” require
full piped stormwater development. With Waihi’s recorded rainfall
intensities, virtually double those of the area’s outside the
Ohinemuri River catchment, once again a service development
requiring “above average” expenditure.
“My” footpath levels were therefore designed to allow for, most
likely, final road reserve development levels, taking into account
likely road hierarchy (local feeder or arterial) and strengthening by
overlay required.
Wherever possible (and in most cases) the laying of the footpath
was combined with shaping up the verge area between carriageway
and footpath, allowing for a V shaped open water table, to improve
drainage and this area was grassed. As well footpaths were
generally laid some 75cm clear of property boundaries (to allow for
future underground services development – cabling).
A small amount of “salvageable” sealed footpaths were repaired
and retained as chip sealed paths to begin with. An additional
(economic) benefit of having shaped grassed drainage along roads
was, that it allowed for part of the maintenance costs (verge
mowing) to be charged to the “subsidised works programme”
(roading) attracting Government finance. I generally allowed for
50% of verge mowing costs to fall into this category.
While on the subject of road verges and mowing maintenance.
When I arrived in 1960 road verges were only occasionally mown,
using side mounted tractor bar mowers (attachments for the light
tractors Council owned – Fergusons). These suffered regular
damage, as the often heavily overgrown road verges were (almost
generally) used to discard any unwanted or broken down household
articles, bicycle frames were not uncommon. There was no rubbish
collection. Over the years, verge mowing frequency was increased
and mowing equipment and plant improved, to a standard of closely
mown lawn conditions when I retired. If I remember right, I
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calculated it once, there were some 20 acres of grass verges in the
Borough, all (apart from those along PP and Seddon Avenues) in
narrow strips along the “20km+” of formed roading in the town.
I am pretty sure I mentioned earlier on in my story, that as a historic
legacy Waihi was “heavily over roaded” for its population. One
early action I took, to avoid adding to this problem, was to see
whether any unformed, legal roads, could be closed or even, if
roughly formed, and not “in use”.
Only a few short lengths qualified and appropriate procedures were
followed for closure. These areas then became Borough Council
property.
As a point of interest, I think this is an appropriate place, to slip in
another important happening in Waihi’s history.
The Borough when established in 1902 was, area wise, the largest
one in New Zealand and I believe still was, until reduced in size a
few years before my arrival.
The original Borough included a large area around the 1960 one,
the whole of the Waihi Beach Township and the full length of the
connecting road reserve between the two. All these had become
part of the Ohinemuri County. In these boundary adjustments, the
Borough Council had retained the ownership of some 300 small
lease hold sections at Waihi Beach. Originally these had been
established for mine workers to retire to when suffering from the
dreaded silicoses disease. Most of these lots were now occupied
by holiday baches, with some permanent residents. The leases of
these properties had a perpetual right of renewal, with lease
payments reviewed every 21 years.
Well, back to my actual work.
Council had initiated the building of its first lot of 6 Pensions Flats,
on the corner of Moresby Ave and Elliott Street (opposite our
house). I supervised the building of these. Meantime, I also
prepared and supervised contracts for road improvements to be
financed by the 1st Roading Loan. Every effort was made for any
known underground services work to be carried out by Council’s
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own staff, ahead of any roading contracts. This included, replacing
old water supply services and culvert repairs or replacements.
Another source of finance available for roading and bridging
improvements (and maintenance) works were Government
subsidies from the National Roads Board (N.R.B) through District
Roads Councils (D.R.C’s).
Applications for these had to be made annually to the Ministry of
Works, in our case through the Paeroa Residency Office to the
Hamilton District Office.
I built up a good working relationship with the engineering staff in
both offices and the admin staff in the Residency Office. In Paeroa
Bosselman, Fendall and Bill Stewart as Resident Engineers come
to mind and in Hamilton Rex Hermans as District Commissioner. I
also had close contact with the Ohinemuri County staff, engineers
Don Dudding, Paul Edwards and Sam Didsbury and County Clerk
Merv Parker. As well the Town Clerk of Paeroa Borough, Ian
Parlane, I had frequent dealings with.
I will not write about all the details of my work, as that will become
utterly boring, but will record some of the main events which
occurred, and will expand a bit about some of the major
developments in the Borough.
First off, in 1962 a major overnight collapse of old mine workings on
Martha Hill (just north of Gilmour Street) occurred. There were also
several old shafts on the hill. This and the need for Council to
define land use etc under the new Town and Country Planning
Legislation, caused Council to commission Mr Lowrie (the last Waihi
Mines Superintendent, then retired in Auckland) to prepare a plan of
Martha Hill defining, unsafe, marginal and safe areas of the hill. He
duly produced such a plan and a report, indicating that the most
likely place of a surface collapse occurring was where the 1962 one
happened (large unfilled stopes of the Royal Reef).
And talking about Town Planning, doubt was being expressed,
whether Council could legally produce a Town Plan as practically
the whole of Borough land comprised of Mining Titles. If this was
so, Council was wasting good money on consultants (Murray-North)
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preparing such a plan. To “test the waters” it was decided, that a
“court ruling” would be desirable. The then Borough Solicitor was
Mr Clark, an (if not the only) acknowledged expert on Mining Law in
NZ. An expert Town Planning Lawyer from Auckland would be
engaged.
Before this issue was fully taken up, unfortunately a tragic accident
happened in that Mr Clark drowned in a boating accident on the
Bowentown Bar. (I think it was Peter? Haszard who survived and
reached shore at Bowentown).
This and the fact, that Council was making progress (after many
years of lobbying Government) with a private members Bill before
Parliament, allowing for free holding of Commercial and Residential
Mining Site Licences, caused the issue to be no longer pursued.
Meanwhile the “hole in the hill” was a blessing in disguise. I was in
the process of removing old pine trees (some 200feet tall) along
Seddon Ave, which originally were planted as shelter for now
mature oak trees.
Apart from dangerous dropping branches, they also were severely
encroaching on the oak trees. After felling (free fire wood to the
public), the stump disposal was a problem, until “the hole”
appeared. From memory some 200 pine trees were removed over
a 5 year programme. Danny Farmer’s bulldozer transporter was
used to take one stump at a time up the Hill. As well “the hole” was
used to dispose of old car bodies. Had I known or been told of the
severe risk involved in operating close to this collapse, it would
have been made “out of bounds” immediately. In our innocence we
were lucky!!
A further benefit Council derived from the old Mine Workings, was
the use of extensive “Mine mullock” (waste rock) stockpiles on the
Hill. I discussed access to these with the Mining Registrar (Rayna
Nottle) at the Court House in Waihi and “common sense” prevailed.
Strictly speaking, I should keep a record of the quantities removed
and pay a small royalty per “cubic yard”. At the end of the year, I
would then make application for a refund of these royalties to
Council. So we both agreed, that provided all material removed
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was for Council use only, we cut all the paperwork, and I had free
access. Most of it was used for sub grade work on roads.
I already mentioned the heavy and high-intensity rainfall for the
Waihi area being on record. I had hoped not to experience an
extreme occurrence of this, during my working life for the Borough.
However this was not to be, and in 1967, an extreme weather
pattern (substantially concentrated on the “Waihi Basin”), caused
unbelievable havoc in the Borough.
I will go into some detail about this major event. It was very early in
the morning (just on daybreak) that the phone rang and woke me
up. (I think somebody had no water supply). As soon as I hung up
the phone, it rang again and this continued.
Meantime, I had staggered out of bed and walked to our (new)
kitchen, which overlooked the Mangatoetoe Stream valley (to the
east of our house). I thought I was dreaming and could not believe
my eyes. As far as I could see, the valley was one brown lake of
floodwaters.
I managed to contact my foreman, Wally Bidois, and with no water
supply anywhere in the Borough, the first priority was to “survey” the
condition of both the Walmsley and the Waitete trunk mains (water
supply). This had to be done on foot, walking in over the hills.
Wally took the Waitete and I took the Walmsley. Within a few hours
it was apparent that the best chance to get some supply restored to
the Borough was through repairs to the 6” Waitete trunk main. The
main damage to this main was the washed out stream crossing, to
the west of the Waihi College grounds. The 12” steel Walmsley
main was washed out at every stream crossing, including the
concrete support piers. No time was wasted to even further look at
this main, Wally and a small gang were left to work on the Waitete
line, while I and the rest of Borough staff concentrated on
safeguarding any danger spots and cleaning up work.
Once this was in train, I had to evaluate the total extent of the
damage and establish priorities to be tackled.
All loose metal was stripped of metal roads, practically every edge
of carriageways had been scoured out, culverts blocked or washed
out, several bridge approaches washed out.
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All this havoc was caused by several days of light and consistent
rainfall (which had saturated the ground), having been followed by
300mm (12 inches) of rain within 12 hours overnight. But “every
cloud has a silver lining”. The storm caused a delay in the
departure of his Worship the Mayor and the Town Clerk, to attend
the Annual Municipal Conference. Their delayed arrival and their
tale of the “disaster”, that had befallen Waihi, was one of the main
reasons that within days a “high powered” team of engineers from
the M.O.W. visited Waihi, to view the damage first hand. (I
personally knew one or two of them).
By then, I had prepared a rough estimate of repair and maintenance
work required, in the subsidised roading work categories. The
“team” approved these and as a result, the Borough received a 3
year “special assistance programme”, over and above our normal
annual subsidised works programme. This greatly contributed to
early rehabilitation of the roading and associated damage.
No such avenue was available towards the water supply
infrastructure damage.
Coming back to this, foreman Wally Bidois managed to have, be it a
limited, supply restored to the Borough within 24 hours, through the
6 inch Waitete trunk main having been made “operational”.
When I went to look at the repaired lower Waitete Stream crossing, I
shuddered; “crossed my fingers, toes, arms and legs”, hoping it
would stay in place!!
The pipes, with flexible joints, were
suspended across the stream from a “cable” made out of No 8
fencing wire. It worked and it held until permanent repairs could be
made. It took many months before the Walmsley main was back in
operation.
Fortunately I never experienced a similar storm during the rest of
my working life in Waihi. A later major storm which closed the
Karangahake Gorge for several days and washed away the Waikino
shops opposite the Hotel in the 80’s did cause damage in Waihi as
well, but not half as severe as the 1967 one.
The then Ohinemuri County Chairman, Blanch Fisher, who farmed
East of Waihi, had to use a helicopter to get to the County office in
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Paeroa. He was a frequent visitor to the Waikino pub on his normal
travel by road to Paeroa and told this tale after the floods; that if he
had been standing at the bar, during the height of the flood, the
flood waters were so high, that he could have just put his glass on
the top of the bar, without a risk of losing it.
Enough of that episode.
Establishing a weekly refuse collection was a “major fight”.
The only collection service in existence was a once or twice a year
“inorganic” one, which was free and made good use of by residents.
A weekly collection would have to be charged for in the rates and
anything costing money was usually opposed to by the public,
although they all wanted “better everything” in the Borough. Despite
all opposition, Council proceeded to establish this service. The
convenience of this service soon quelled opposing voices. Disposal
was originally in convenient “hollows” within the Borough. The
southern end of Victoria Street and an area between the railway line
and Quarry Road were soon filled and for quite a few years the low
lying area, between the netball courts and the football grounds in
the Recreation Reserve, was in use.
The Eastern Stream
meandered through here coming close to the Bowling Greens.
To fully utilise this area, the Eastern Stream had to be diverted,
several times. The last deviation which would discharge the stream
into a small quarry (no longer in use) to the east struck it lucky. I
expected we would have to do some blasting but the “first bite” of
the back actor bucket scraped on some “level rock”. It proved to be
part of an old mine water race, which was soon cleared.
There were no obvious other places in the Borough and as well
Government and ad hoc bodies regulations and controls on many
aspects of municipal work were ever increasing, so I had to start
looking elsewhere or for alternatives of disposal of refuse.
I costed out alternatives to a local “landfill” operation, but found
these to be still uneconomic at the time. Two potential sites, just
outside the Borough boundaries, I considered to be suitable in
meeting several site requirements I considered essential. Both
were estimated to have a 15 to 20 year tip life and one in private
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ownership, the other a public reserve. One was a densely
overgrown gully along Bulltown Road and the other a saucer
shaped low area to the left of State Highway 2, just across the
Ohinemuri River en route to Tauranga.
The Bulltown Road site was the preferred one and acquisition
approaches were made to the “farmer” owner, who was known to
spend more time in the pubs than anywhere else.
The noxious weeds and scrub covered area and a few old pine
trees became most valuable, high potential farmland. Long drawn
out negotiations were eventually successful.
Next came
applications for zoning of the site (Ohinemuri County) and water
rights for discharges from the site (Hauraki Catchment Board).
The first was readily acquired but the second became another long
drawn out affair. I myself was only too well aware of the discharge
problem which the heavy Waihi rainfall could cause. To control this
I had designed the “Tip” to contain a small ponding area within the
confines of the tip, as well as perimeter drains to discharge any run
off from outside the tip area. A management plan was prepared
and submitted to the H.C. Board and a “Hearing” of the Borough
application took place in the Board’s Te Aroha office.
I still have to “chuckle” about one question put to me during this
hearing and my answer to it. The question put to me was; “Could I
prevent any rainwater from falling on the tip area? And my answer
was; “Yes, by putting a roof over the whole tip area”.
In the end the necessary water rights were granted, these included
regular sampling and testing of any discharge from the tip area.
I personally supervised the clearing and all construction work for the
tip, as instant decisions on soil types encountered had to be made.
The downstream side of the tip was contained by a compacted
earth fill dam, which at final tip fill level would be in excess of 20
metres high (putting it in the “high dams” category). A “floor”
drainage system was incorporated and all discharges from this and
the pond overflow separately piped under the “dam” to a central
discharge point. A pump well chamber was incorporated in this
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area to, if found necessary, pump any contaminated discharge back
into the pit area.
During the time I controlled the tip no contaminated discharges were
recorded and no pump installation required.
The tip was originally open 7 days/week, 24 hr/day for inorganic
tipping. Weekly household collections were used to create “cells” in
the tip area to contain all other material tipped. Household refuse
was covered immediately after completion of the collection.
Abuse of the freedom to tip, eventually caused restricted tipping
hours and eventually charges being levied. Also the tip was
transferred to private operation control, which eventually led to
inadequate effluent control and (following completion of Borough
sewerage) pumping of effluent to the nearest public sewer.
The delay in the Bulltown Road tip becoming operational,
necessitated extending the use of the Kenny Street (Recreation
Reserve) tip, which could only be achieved by raising the finished
level of the area above the original design level. Rehabilitation of
this area created an extra playing field on the reserve (large enough
for a full sized hockey field).
The Bulltown Rd tip exceeded its design life, was still in use after
my retirement and for a number of years, before closing, even used
as a district tip by Hauraki District Council. To my recollection the
total capital establishment cost for the BT Road tip was $50,000, a
bargain!! Enough about rubbish, what next?
Just a few ‘small’ items coming to mind, before I jump into the next
‘big one’.
Public Swimming Pool: An old concrete public pool existed near the
netball courts on the Recreation Reserve, with access off Kenny
Street. It was full of cracks and empty, no longer in use, when I
started working for the Borough. There were moves afoot for a new
pool to be built on the Waihi College grounds, which would also
(part time) be available to the public.
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Rumour had it, that old mine workings and settlement had caused
the old pool to crack. The fear held was, that, when full of
swimmers one day the pool would totally collapse and all would be
‘swallowed up’.
I trial filled the pool, which rapidly lost water. However I also
noticed, that along the bank to the nearby Eastern Stream (not yet
diverted) substantial ‘spring flows’ suddenly appeared and these
‘dried up; once the pool was empty. Some basic measurements
and calculations showed me, that practically all water losses from
the pool escaped along the Eastern Stream bank so there were no
‘deep fissures’ to old mine workings through which water escaped.
I assured the council of this and recommended that the pool would
be temporarily repaired (crack repairs with a bitumen compound),
and after testing for major leaks, be made available to the public,
until such time that the new ‘college pool’ would be available. This
eventuated and activities in the old pool assisted, in a small way,
towards fundraising for the college pool. The old pool was
subsequently demolished and filled in.
Street Lighting: I already mentioned the open shade 100w bulbs on
street intersections representing this ‘amenity’ in residential areas,
on my arrival in town. Combined with a lack of footpaths, this made
walking in the evening quite hazardous. Together with the footpath
programme, I made an early start with street lighting improvements
of necessity spread over a number of years.
In discussion with the Thames Valley Electric Power Board
(T.V.E.P.B.), (the body at that time controlling power supply in our
area), the lantern standard was agreed upon and the initial
programme targeted street lights on one side of each street at some
three to four chain intervals. (Note, once completed, it was intended
to supplement this by additional lights at the second side of each
street at in between intervals). This second stage was not reached
in my time, but even without it Waihi borough became the best lit
town in the T.V.E.P.B. area. As state highways were improved
though the town the M.O.W. upgraded street lighting along their
routes to full standards.
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Outside the commercial (shopping) area SH lighting was the
yellow/orange colour (mercury vapour I think). In the CBD it was
white (sodium vapour).
In residential area’s generally white lights were established, but I
had the yellow/orange type installed along a few ‘arterial’ roads,
which led to or looped back to the State Highways, a ‘subliminal’
guide for motorists foreign to our area to find their way back to the
State Highways.
Street names and numbers: Street numbers were rather ‘erratic’ in
the town until Ken Bargh, in the early 1960’s, the then Town Clerk
compiled street numbers for the whole town.
The story went (whether true or not I can’t tell), that before this
happening, a ‘clever’ door to door salesman had been selling
numbers to people, telling them what their numbers were? Street
name signs were few and far between and where existing often
chipped (old enamelled steel plates).
A progressive programme of installing new reflectorised aluminium
street name plates was therefore initiated. In the business area
these were attached to verandas in the residential area initially
mounted on tall posts on the road verge. Especially the latter were
subject to regular vandalism. As far as I was aware the custom of
‘high’ mounting street name plates was amongst others to limit
vandalism (being out of reach). So why blindly follow custom? I
thought one day. As well I started thinking through the purpose of
street names, being displayed, and I remembered my own
experience, trying to find a street in a unfamiliar town when driving
around. It was not uncommon, more so at night, for me to have to
pull up and park the car near an intersection, walk up to it and read
the street name somewhere ‘high up’.
As well local people (particularly in smaller towns) would know
which street was which, without name plates. So I decided, why not
mount street name plates in residential areas low enough to read
when in a car approaching an intersection?? It had two big
advantages. In the dark they would be visible in the head lights of a
car (even on dip), and at any time, a driver does not have to lift his
or her eyes to try and read a sign, diverting his or her attention
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(even for a brief moment) from observing the traffic conditions on
the intersection being approached.
The only concern I had was, that mounted low, the sharp ends of
the signs could be a hazard to small children, if they walked into
one of them (at ‘face’ level). To this end I decided to mount the
signs, not on a single ‘post’ but on pipe supports at both ends
(50mm galvanised pipes).
The experiment was a success and the example was followed in
several other towns.
Unfortunately vandalising of the signs
continued unabated. (It is regrettable that – since my retirement –
street signs are once again mounted high, still being vandalised).
That’s enough about the few small items. The next ‘big one’
experienced by me, was the renewed interest in Mining or initially
exploration for gold!!
From memory it was about the mid 1970’s, that the first interest was
shown. Council received applications for small diameter drill holes
to be put down in several places and the use of water from the
public supply system.
These were readily granted with the
condition, water use be metered and paid for, and the site
reinstated on completion. I believe the odd drill hole was put down
on private property, with a negotiated lump sum payment made to
the owner.
At one stage a drilling rig was operating on the verge area of
Seddon Ave just West of Martin Road, so they were generally in full
public view. Not a murmur was heard from the public. At the time
Council had no input at all into any (mining) exploration licenses
issued by the Mines Department in Wellington, through the Mining
Registrar at the Waihi Court house.
It was not very long before a large part of the town and adjoining
County area’s were covered in new licenses. I believe a license
over Martha Hill was being held by a company, which had opened
up and was operating the old ‘lead mine’, on Mount Te Aroha,
without any obvious exploration activities on Martha Hill.
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It was not until a ‘speculative entrepreneur’ Jack Barbarich
managed to acquire this license that things started to happen on
‘the Hill’. Jack established a small processing plant, East of the
Recreation Reserve, near the historic cyanide vats and started
processing the top ‘soil area’ from the surrounding site as well as
‘samples’ of mined mullock from Martha Hill, recovering small
quantities of gold.
There still was little, if any, liaison between the Mines Department
and Council and no harm was done, until just before the issue of a
new prospecting license for Martha Hill. This intended to allow for
an unspecified as to size ‘bulk sample’ to be removed from Martha
Hill.
The Borough Council, ‘somehow or other’, became aware of this
proposal cooked up in Wellington, and alarm bells started ringing.
The Mayor Town Clerk and myself went to Wellington to meet the
minister (I think it was Tizzard at the time) and managed to
convince him, that the proposed license went way beyond
Prospecting and was in affect a ‘pilot mining’ operation.
Consequently the following were achieved:
1. The bulk sample was limited to 30,000 tons and a cash bond
(the first ever) was attached to the license.
2. A meeting was conveyed at the Waihi Borough Chambers with
representatives of all the parties now involved or interested
(Government departments, local authorities, Catchment Board
came to mind), and the Minister in attendance. From then on the
Borough Council stayed in the loop on any mining related
developments in their area.
To operate the ‘Prospecting license’, Jack Barbarich (Managing
Director of Mineral Resources), attracted several short term
‘partners’. Generally large earthmoving contractors who brought in
their own heavy plant onto Martha Hill. One of these was Green
and McCahill.
The ‘bulk sample’ was being taken by reopening the original open
cut located on the West side of Martha Hill. As a matter of interest I
regularly visited the operations on the Hill. On one such occasion,
talking to the Contractor’s foreman on the job, I asked him, whether
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he realised that he was excavating over the top of extensive old
underground mining works, of which there was a glass model in the
local Museum?? “No, he was not aware of that, neither had
anybody told him about it”, was his answer.
Within a few days of this conversation, a large collapse occurred
over night in the working area and when I visited the site, the same
foreman I spoke to earlier, talking about the ‘hole’ in utter disbelief
said ‘All of my plant could have been swallowed up in there.’
Fortunately no plant was lost or anybody injured. That event
stopped Green and McCahill in their tracks.
Meantime Jack Barbarich was scouting around (internationally), for
a major partner. He was a regular visitor to my office and on more
than one occasion told me, that he himself was never going to ‘mine
the Hill’. But, holding the license, he was convinced that he could
make his fortune if he could ‘prove’ that the Hill still contained
adequate gold resources. He was an interesting and colourful
character and Jack was as comfortable, slogging away in dirty
working clothes, at the ‘coal front’ in his gold recovery plant, near
the Recreation Reserve, as he was in gentleman’s attire in a
corporate boardroom’ selling his dream’. He had sunk every penny
he possessed in this venture. By this time rumours were rife in the
town. Some old timers swearing, there was still a fortune of gold in
the old workings on the Hill and others swearing the exact opposite,
nothing left!! One of the latter was the then Mayor of Waihi, Owen
Morgan.
Council as a whole was some what divided as to the ‘pros’ and
‘cons’ of possible? renewed mining activities in the town. As well,
around this time, the ‘anti mining lobby’, supported and often
initiated by persons well outside of our district, started to make it’s
presence felt.
Eventually, Jack Barbarich managed to interest a major partner into
his venture. A big American mining company, AMAX. This
company had the resources, and risk capital for a thorough and in
depth exploration programme on Martha Hill. At this stage it
became extremely important for Council to ‘show it’s hand’, to
assure it remained ‘in the loop’ on developments controlled by
Central Government (Mines Department).
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I myself was convinced, that if it could be ‘proven’ economic gold
reserves were still present in the Hill, a mining license would be
issued to replace an initial prospecting license. Whether it was this
conviction (which I regularly expressed at Council meetings) or not,
I cannot be sure of, but in the end Council resolved to be in support
of a full exploration programme so that once and for all the ‘fate of
the Hill’ could be determined.
Earlier on I had picked up a parcel of Mineral Resources shares (I
think 20,000 shares in total), when they were at rock bottom @ two
cents each purely as a gamble. Despite the fact, that I had more
than enough work on my plate, to improve and maintain Borough
services, I became heavily involved in evaluating the impact major
prospecting and possible follow up mining would have on the
Borough and it’s inhabitants. With Council in principle in support of
the activity, I managed to convince Council, that knowledgeable
input would be required for it to be taken seriously in the ‘condition
setting process’. As a consequence Council engaged several
Consultants as its advisors. Jim Clark (a partner in Murray North at
the time) being one of the main ones. I and the Council’s solicitor
George Gay, were the main liaison, between all other parties and
Council. Many hours, outside working hours, often whole weekends
were spent by George and me to iron out Council’s input. Not all
ratepayers were happy with the expenditure of rating finance on
mining related issues, but I myself am convinced, that if Council’s
input had not been as thorough as it was, many ultimate conditions
attached to the Mining license would not have been as “severe” as
they were. The conditions arrived at and imposed, virtually became
a standard for other prospecting and mining licenses issued by the
Mines Department since (in the whole country).
The first office of AMAX in Waihi was situated in School Lane, in
Seath’s old furniture factory building, now the site of the Waihi
Medical Centre. One of the geologists employed there, Don
MacKay, is still in Waihi now (2004), and involved in further
exploration around Waihi. My daughter Judy worked in that office
for a while and I think it was there, that she met her first husband
John Gilles, a professional photographer, who came out from
Australia to do some photo work for the company.
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After many meetings and ‘ever lasting’ (Planning Tribunal) hearings
a mining license for an ‘open pit’ on Martha Hill was issued, for a
defined pit perimeter and depth. (The prospecting indicated
reserves of gold and silver in this pit were to the value of $800
million). The rest is history by now and with further bullion reserves
confirmed, below the original M.L. depth, a further license was
obtained, some 50m deeper and extending the pit perimeter also.
(Once mining was approved, I personally was convinced, that
further in depth prospecting would be undertaken in the pit and a
new Mining license applied for, if warranted).
A succession of Mine Managers after Roger Craddock (who opened
the pit) and several company changes have occurred, the operation
on the Hill will be nearing its end within a few years from now.
Despite some local (and further afield) opposition to the mining
operations, I feel that Waihi as a whole has benefited from the
activities and prospered as a result. (A minor nationwide recession
in the 80’s never affected Waihi). One mining related aspect I have
to mention here was the desire of the company to set up an
information office in town. In talking one day with the company
management and the issue being raised I said, “I know just the
person to do this”, (my second wife to be), Doreen McLeod.” They
agreed to interview her, as soon as she returned from a tramping
trip she was on. She was interviewed got the job, and over the
years proved her worth. From a small beginning in a vacated shop
up Seddon Street, manned by Doreen it has grown to the purpose
built information and education unit with some six staff currently
situated on Moresby Ave/Savage Road corner.
One incident at the first information centre in Seddon Street is worth
recording. Among other displays, there was also a twenty minute
video about the project, which was put on, on request. One day a
group of ‘Black Power’ gang members came in, patched leather
jackets and sunglasses on, and the following occurred:
Black Power: “What you got to show us hey?”
Doreen: “Apart from the titled wall displays, I also can show you a
video. Would you like me to put it on?”
Black Power: “Yeah man, cool!”
Doreen: Starts video and offers chairs to them.
Black Power: After a while are not watching the video anymore.
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Doreen: Turns off the video.
Black Power: “Hey man, you can’t do that.”
Doreen: “Well, you obviously were not interested in it and not
watching the video.”
Black Power: “Yeah we’ll watch!” And they did to the end.
Thanking Doreen when leaving.
This is a good example of Doreen’s ‘people skills’. But back to
mining, some general remarks in the ‘lead up’ to it. Already at the
prospecting stage, the wildest rumours circulated in the town.
Amongst them, ‘that the whole CBD would be taken in by the pit.’
Or even worse: ‘the whole town would be shifted to allow for the pit.’
Another rumour affected the next of my major work aspects I will
deal with, the Waihi Borough water supply. To start this tale I have
to go back to the early 1960’s. Owen Morgan was on the Council
and had been for some years. He had been instrumental in getting
the Waitete water supply established, supplementing the main old
Walmsley supply, a few year before I arrived on the scene in Waihi.
This had eliminated, to a large extent, regular water shortages
being experienced in town, leading to restrictions. However this
problem still arose during the summer, when ‘run of stream’ flows
dwindled during ‘dry spells’. The Waitete intakes (two streams),
had no storage at all and the main Walmsley intake a very limited
storage capacity. A small secondary intake feeding the Walmsley
main also had no storage.
The catchments area’s for both supplies were roughly one square
mile (about 2.5 km squared each). Another invaluable thing Owen
Morgan had done, over a number of years, was the measuring of
low stream flows from small streams in the hills surrounding Waihi.
(He had used a small rectangular weir cut into a wooden plank for
this – not very accurate for small flows). I continued these
‘gaugings’, for both the Walmsley and Waitete supply streams,
using a more refined V notch weir, cut out of a sheet of galvanised
flat iron.
An adequate year long reliable safe water supply for Waihi had to
be evaluated and eventually provided for. And in this, Owen’s and
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my philosophy were dramatically opposed, as soon became
evident.
Owen’s answer was to add more and more small streams to the
supply, ever multiplying intakes. The options, in my opinion,
available were, either pumping water from the Ohenunuri River or
building a seasonal storage facility (dam) on either the Waitete or
Walmsley stream. In both instances a treatment plant and service
reservoir would have to be included.
Apart form a multiplicity of intakes, Owen’s approach would also tie
up more and more land as to be protected water supply
catchments, limiting other uses of such land. Development of
seasonal storage, i.e. building a dam to catch winter flows from a
single catchment, would utilise the land to the full, ‘harvesting water’
year round and assuring summer supplies. It took many years of
argument before Owen one day in an ‘aside’ confided to me ‘that he
had lost!’ One of the reasons it took so long was, that Owen had for
many years been the ‘water supply expert’ in the town and here was
this young upstart Dutch Engineer trying to tell the council that
Owen’s idea’s were wrong. Hadn’t Owen; ‘saved’ the town by
construction of the ‘cheap’ Waitete supply. The Engineers ideas
would cost millions of dollars.
And yes, I was arguing for a ‘gravity supply’ to be investigated for
the town in favour of a ‘pumped’ supply from the Ohinemuri River.
And because the development of a water supply scheme is a very
expensive entity, that has to be entered into in one full swoop. I
also recommended to Council, to take up discussions with the
adjoining Ohimenuri County with a view of possibly developing a
joint supply, serving not only Waihi Borough, but also Waihi Beach
and possibly Waikino townships. Both these townships suffered
inadequate supply situations at the time. Particularly Waihi Beach
suffered from summer shortages, aggravated by the massive influx
of holiday makers during that time.
Because of the size of such a study Council had to go to
consultants and Babbage and Partners were engaged with partner
Paul Edwards as project leader. These consultants had been
engaged previously by the County and Paul was an ex County
Engineer, familiar with the local territory.
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Meantime, I had earlier constructed a permanent large ‘V notch’
weir, upstream of the small Walmsley reservoir, in concrete,
capable of measuring all but the largest flood flows in the stream.
As part of the study, this weir was equipped with recording flow
level instruments and a recording rain gauge. This provided
valuable rainfall – run off data and also rainfall – elevation above
sea level data in correlation with the Waihi Town recording rainfall
station. After initial data supply for our study the Walmsley station
was for years operated by the Hauraki Catchment Board and must
have provided valuable data for a typical small hill catchment.
The brief to the consultants eventually covered two scenarios. One,
for a development to service Waihi Town and immediate surrounds,
only and two, to harvest the maximum supply from the catchment to
be utilised and service Waihi Beach as well. The two schemes
were soon referred to as the ‘low’ and the ‘high’ dam schemes.
(The difference in dam height I recall to be only around two metres).
Initial investigations showed that the most suitable dam location
would be in the Walmsley Valley, a short distance down stream
from the existing old concrete dam. The ‘supply potential’ from
each catchment (Walmsley and Waitete), was about the same.
More detailed analysis and design was therefore concentrated on
the Walmsley and estimates prepared for both ‘high’ and ‘low’ dam
schemes.
Because a water supply is an expensive entity to establish, to utilise
‘water harvesting’ from the catchment to the maximum and to
service the maximum number of consumers, I myself strongly
recommended to Council and promoted the ‘high’ dam scheme.
Moreover once a low dam was built it would be uneconomical if not
impossible to turn this into a ‘high’ dam.
At the time water supply developments (Headworks treatment
plants and service reservoirs) were encouraged by Central
Government and as such carried substantial subsidies. As well the
Town Clerk at the time had discovered the existence of an ‘obscure’
small Government Fund (A few million dollars only), which Local
Authorities could make applications for assistance to. The Town
Clerk and myself put an application together and succeeded in
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obtaining a grant of ‘several hundred thousand dollars’, towards the
dam costs, should we proceed with the scheme.
By now my Borough Council was fully in favour of the development,
but a ‘battle’ was looming for the Ohinemuri County Council to
become equally enthusiastic.
The then County Clerk, Merv Parker, who had been in office for
many years, was strongly against the joint development, as being
too expensive for Waihi Beach. The County Chairman, Blanch
Fisher, was strongly in favour but his Council, always politically
divided between the ‘plains farmers’ (west of the ranges) and the
‘hill farmers’, east of the ranges, was equally divided and as always
very suspicious, that another authority (the Borough), should be
willing to extend a helping hand across it’s boundaries. (There had
to be strong benefits for the Borough in it!!).
Apart from the ‘struggle’ with the County, as well a rumour had
started circulating in the Borough, that any dam in the proposed
scheme was only required to supply the Mining company for their
operations! There was not a grain of truth in this, but rumours are
notoriously hard to quell.
On top of all this, the tri-annual local body elections were looming.
Loan applications for the Borough had meantime been made and
approval obtained. A final meeting, to convince the County Clerk of
mutual benefits, had been arranged between the consultants (Paul
Edwards), the County Clerk, and County Engineer and myself in
Paeroa. Knowing that the County Clerk was going to harp on the
cost to County ratepayers for their part of the scheme, I had fully
(manually, no computers yet), analysed the estimated annual
charges for Borough ratepayers, County farmer ratepayers along
the corridor route from the Borough to Waihi Beach township (Part
State Highway 2 and then the Waihi Beach road) and Waihi Beach
urban ratepayer charges. All this information I had ready to present
at the meeting in Paeroa.
Imagine my surprise, when before the joint meeting had started the
County Clerk requested to meet with the consultant privately before
me joining them. Little I could do but to agree. It took quite a while,
when finally I was invited in. When informed, what the discussion
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had been about (in my absence), I advised those present that I had
all the answers with me and could have saved everybody a lot of
time. (Paul did not have these figures as the consultants had not
broken down the County costs in that much detail). When I
produced the results of my analysis and how arrived at, Paul readily
agreed as to their fairness, but the County Clerk was still ‘humming
and haaing’ about the expense and what was in it for the Borough.
I should note here, that the County Clerk’s approach to any major
expenditure in the County was, ‘To put the cost of the proposal –
expressed in rates – to a public meeting of ratepayers’, and if at
such a meeting the ratepayers present voted the proposal too
costly, it was abandoned and he considered the County Council had
met it’s obligations. No effort was made to explain the need for the
proposal long term and that it only would cost more in the future.
The County chairman for many many years had been a farmer from
the ‘plains’ (west) side of the County and any development on the
east side of the County had for all those years been viewed with
suspicion. When Blanch Fisher was elected County Chairman he
was the first (and to date the only), Chairman from the eastern side
of the County.
He was making a tremendous effort to unify his ‘west – east’ divided
council and was making progress in this. (After his untimely death
the chairmanship reverted back to the west).
Getting into a bit of political comment here, but it should be realised,
that politics, were never far removed, being rather an integral part of
local authority work. I was well aware of this and found it an added
challenge! I had a good rapport with Blanch Fisher (County
Chairman).
But back to the water supply development issue. Following our joint
(staff) meeting in Paeroa, the County Clerk, unbeknown to anyone
not even his County Chairman, saw fit to compile and mail out a
newsletter to all Waihi Beach ratepayers worded in such a way as
to virtually condemn a joint water supply development with the
Borough.
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I heard about this letter and managed to get a copy of it. As soon
as I had read it, I climbed on the phone to Blanch Fisher, to enquire
whether he was aware of it. The answer was, ‘no’. My comment to
Blanch was; “Well, Merv (the County Clerk) has effectively
torpedoed the joint Borough/County scheme.” Blanch followed up
immediately, but the damage had been done and he was unable to
turn the tide.
Immediately following this, the Borough Council decided to proceed
with the water supply for the Borough only (this included a small
adjoining County area already on the water reticulation system). All
necessary resolutions were passed. Unfortunately it was now very
close to the Local Authority elections and a group of new
candidates stood for Council, actively electioneering, that the water
supply proposals were excessive and too costly.
Unfortunately they ‘won the day’ and enough of them were elected
to gain a majority in Council. At the first Council meeting, following
the elections, they moved ‘en block’ to reject all the Council
resolutions related to the water supply development (they had a
meeting amongst themselves only, at one of their homes, to decide
on action to take and to vote ‘en block’).
So we were back to square one. However the Health Department
had been on Council’s back for many years, to treat the existing
‘raw ‘ water supply, as a minimum requiring ‘chlorination’. I had
fought hard against such a ‘limited move’ as the turbidity range of
the raw supply varied over such a wide range, that ‘chlorination’ by
itself would only give a false sense of security, as no equipment
existed to deal with such a wide range of turbidity. So, immediately
following the new Council’s decision, the Health Departments
pressure came back on.
Well, that let the cat amongst the pigeons.!! And the new
Councillors were facing a steep learning curve. It was not all simply
‘black and white’.!!!
They had to do something. They could not very well admit, that
they had been wrong and accept the need for the water supply
development. In their ‘wisdom’, following meeting after meeting
(almost weekly), they ‘homed in’ on the most expensive part of the
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proposal, the dam, for seasonal storage, which they eliminated,
leaving the treatment plant and service reservoir to be developed.
Note: The Walmsley trunk main had (following the earlier major
flood damage) been renewed by a fifteen inch diameter main. In
the original development scheme, with seasonal storage in the
Walmsley catchment, the Waitete supply was going to be physically
disconnected from the Borough’s reticulation system, being no
longer required. (It would be left in place only to act as an
emergency stand by supply).
The only Councillor realising what the effect would be of the
Council’s decision, ‘not to build the dam’, (which he had supported),
was Owen Morgan. The Waitete supply, unless treated would still
be disconnected, putting the town supply position back 25 years,
which was totally unacceptable.’
Council resolved to link the Waitete supply main to the Walmsley
trunk main prior to the treatment plant, spending extra money
without solving the seasonal supply situation but ‘saving face’ for
themselves.
From memory the full scheme would have cost the Council some
$200,000 more in loan finance, allowing for all the subsidies and
grants which had been available. The loan would by now (2004),
have been fully paid up and an assured cheap gravity supply would
have been in place for many years to come. Before additional
seasonal demands had to be provided for, installation of water
meters, to curtail demand, would give a breathing space, to plan for
new large capital expenditure timing.
This avenue is no longer available, as the new District Council has
instituted universal water metering already some years ago.
Neither are subsidies and grants any longer available and to date
no economic answer fro an assured seasonal supply has been
found for Waihi. I still regret, that I failed in my efforts to establish
this service for Waihi. In hindsight, had I left the County to its own
devices and concentrated on the town of Waihi an assured
seasonal supply for the town would have been in place. However
this would have gone against the grain of my professional
engineering ability, not to seek the greater good for the greater
number, and faced with the same situation I would have acted the
same.
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Anyway, I succeeded in achieving a fully treated supply
(flocculation, filtration and chlorination plus provision for later
adding fluoridation) being established for Waihi. Before this was a
fact I had one further worry and it was a major one!
A large part of Waihi’s reticulation consisted of old cast-iron pipes
(from 10 cm to 25 cm diameter) which were heavily encrusted (socalled tubercular growth). Large quantities of fine, organic sediment
were trapped in these encrustations, and even live eels were
present in the pipes. Regular “flushing” of the system through fire
hydrants was carried out but would not dislodge all the sediments.
My worry was that unacceptable tastes and smells would arise in
the supply when treated (chlorinated) water replaced the raw water
supply and react with the trapped organic sediment in the system. I
contacted every available source I could think of, including many of
my urban engineering colleagues in the North Island, to try and find
a solution to this problem, but nobody could give me an answer.
Proper treatment requires a nominal amount of residual chlorine to
be present at the consumers’ taps. Very basic, cheap and simple
measuring of this can be done. “Horrible” tastes and smells could
only arise if no residual chlorine was present.
For the changeover from raw to treated water I therefore worked
out a pattern for flushing the reticulation system, using several
gangs of my workers, while “super chlorinating” the supply at the
treatment plant.
Flushing was continued until residual chlorine was observed (using
a simple test kit ) and repeated as required. From memory it took
close to a week of repeating the “flushing pattern’ for the desired
result to be achieved.
And, to my great relief, not a single taste or smell complaint was
ever received.
That is more than enough about water!
Before touching on the next category in my tale, one final work
related item remains; sewage.
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Way back in my story I mentioned that Waihi had very few septic
tanks when we arrived on the scene. “Night soil” cans and
collection service were the predominant means of dispersal of toilet
wastes. Other liquid wastes were disposed of into soak holes or as
was the case in commercial areas piped into the street channels.
This was “acceptable” while the old mine was operating as
dewatering water from the mine was pumped into the same street
channels, thus flushing these 24 hours a day/ 7 days a week and
ultimately discharging into the Mangatoetoe stream.
However, when mining ceased in 1952 this “flushing” stopped and
particularly in the summertime unpleasant smells in the CBD
became unacceptable. (This was before my time).
Apparently the Health Department brought pressure to bear on the
Council and in Seddon Street a piped system was installed but still
discharging into the Mangatoetoe stream.
On to the 1960’s. Any new houses built had a septic tank installed
and gradually more and more old houses had flush toilets and
septic tanks installed. Eventually the Night Soil collection became
uneconomic and before winding up the contract Council instituted a
scheme providing finance towards an S.T. installation for people
who could not afford the lump sum expenditure for same.
Eventually a piped sewage disposal system had to be resorted to. It
took many years for this to eventuate. Territorial Local Authority
amalgamation plans which reared their heads from time to time in
the end hastened the creation of this service for Waihi.
Let me explain this: Apart from the multitude of problems Waihi had
inherited from the many years of neglect prior to and after the final
closure of the underground mining operations it had one major
asset, namely 300 lease-hold sections at Waihi Beach.
As values increased and leases were renewed this ownership had
become quite an important revenue source for the Borough.
However, if and when the Borough would be amalgamated with
other local authorities to become a District, such an asset would,
after only a few years, become a District asset. To increase its
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options the Borough council managed to get legislation past to
allow for freeholding of the beach leases. And as amalgamation
drew closer and amalgamation “fears” increased it actioned this
option and capitalised a major part of the leases.
Meantime surveys for sewer reticulation were completed and plans
prepared for a staged reticulation development. Murray North and
Partners were engaged as consultants for this with a Dutch
engineer in their employ, Han Endert in charge. Oxidation ponds
west of the Borough across the Ohinemuri River were the chosen
site for the treatment process, with discharge into the river.
Once again we tried to interest the Ohinemuri County to include the
residential areas adjacent to the Borough, at least in the survey and
planning stage, but “No” once again, they were not interested.
(Note: After amalgamation these areas were eventually serviced
but extra pumping stations were then required).
The first stage of the scheme was completed and became
operational towards the end of my working career with the Borough
Council. Total reticulation and increasing the oxidation ponds to
final size was completed shortly after my retirement. I supervised,
on behalf of the consultants, the oxidation pond enlargement
contracts after my retirement. Quite an interesting job, not only
because of the many soil types encountered but also because the
ponds had to remain operational at all times.
An interesting aside of this work were the old “mine tailings
deposits” encountered along the riverbank. They formed a raised
ridge of “fine sands” adjacent to the river. As a matter of interest I
managed to get some samples analysed through the new mining
exploration company, and, yes, they had a certain gold content but
not enough to be economic to recover.
One incident during the first stage of sewage development I think is
worthwhile to be recorded here.
It deals with the construction of the “rising main”, which is the
pipeline from the main pumping station at the end of Victoria Street
to the oxidation ponds.
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After crossing the Ohinemuri River the pipeline, which was
attached to the new Victoria Street Bridge, entered private farmland
to reach the ponds area which had already been purchased by the
Council. An “easement” along the route of this pipeline had been
publicly notified and was available for construction and future
maintenance purposes.
Within about one hundred meters after leaving the road reserve the
pipeline had to cross a swampy little creek on the farm. Very close
to the easement was the farmer’s metal track leading to his milk
shed which also crossed the little creek.
The obvious answer to tackling the swamp crossing for the pipeline
was to use the farm track for machine access. I approached the
farmer to negotiate access terms, times suitable to him, making
good and even improving the track, but “No way!” The only access
on his farm we could use was the easement. He was quietly
gloating, because he himself had had no end of trouble to
eventually put a reliable crossing in over the swampy creek. (Right
from the start this farmer had been difficult to deal with).
Fortunately we had very cooperative contractors (from Thames) on
this job and they viewed the limited access offered as a challenge. I
had discussed the situation with the contractors’ foreman and we
agreed that we would achieve a workable crossing for the plant
using “titree fascines” which the Borough staff would provide. So
my own foreman (good old Wally) sent his gang up the Walmsley
Valley to cut titree and bundle them up into fascines. Although use
of the farm track would have been simpler we had no difficulty or
time loss in crossing the swampy area (much to the farmer’s
disappointment!)
About time to touch on the next category:
3. Industries and Waihi
I will only briefly touch on this, a facet highlighting Waihi’s
difference from other small towns in New Zealand.
I was told that during the great depression years in the 1930’s
when severe hunger was experienced by many other New
Zealanders people in Waihi did not suffer as mining continued
going strong, providing work and money for food.
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Following the closure of mining in 1952 a multitude of smaller
industries developed in Waihi, whether it was a result of special
skills being retained in the town or skilled labour being available is
hard to say, but it is a fact that when I started work in Waihi there
were a multitude of diverse industries in and around the town.
Albert Thomas, when he was Mayor, used to boast that “per head
of population, Waihi was the most industrialised town in New
Zealand”
In the late -70’s and early -80’s quite a severe recession occurred
in New Zealand, culminating in closures or amalgamation into
larger units, of many industries nationwide. Waihi did not escape
from this and lost among others; a foundry, a timber mill, a timber
treatment plant, the cheese factory (in the county), a pre-cast
concrete manufacturing unit, a blacksmith’s shop.
However, once again Waihi “escaped” the severe impact of this as
simultaneously to these happenings renewed mining interests and
related activities developed in Waihi, eventually leading to the
opening of the new open-cast Martha Mine by AMAX.
As well Cyprus Minerals, with their NZ head office and laboratories
in Waihi, developed and operated a combined underground/opencast mine just west of Waihi at the Golden Cross for a number of
years.
As the town consolidated several new industries developed in
Waihi, Ferrentino’s motorbike helmets, tool and die manufacture,
timber yards, joinery manufacturing, Ready Mix Concrete,
aluminium joinery, plus a multitude of small ones in the old Philips
TV-factory, which closed through the consolidation of all Philips
New Zealand activities in Wellington. Elliott’s furniture factory,
which produces high quality solid timber (rimu) furniture, shipped all
over New Zealand, deserves special mention here as an old family
business in Waihi at the bottom end of Clarke Street.
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Waihi Family 1960 On to the next category of my story!
4. Family and outside interests from 1960 to my retirement.
Earlier on I recounted Judy’s arrival in 1960 and we were quite
happy with our family of three girls, but “accidents” do happen and
Anne became pregnant again, and surprise, surprise, our son
Michael was born on 26 April 1962.
Although we were all delighted with the latest family arrival it
created a very busy time especially for Anne who had to care for 2
pre-schoolers and 2 early primary school children in the house,
which was habitable, but for years the site of renovations and
alterations, starting with the foundations. For the latter Anne was
involved as well, as shown in the following:
After I had raked all the accumulated debris from under the house,
(including tins, glass and broken bottles) with often only space to
crawl around on my belly, I started off levelling the house, which
had “drooped” around the three solid brick chimneys as the timber
foundation piles had rotted. I had managed to lay my hands on
enough screw and hydraulic jacks to do this, one section of the
house at the time.
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In replacing the timber piles with concrete ones I was setting these
on concrete pads.
After preparing for these pads I crawled from under the house,
mixed a load of concrete and wheel-barrowed that to the nearest
place around the house. I then crawled back under, taking with me
a rope attached to a small oval enamelled basin which had a
handle on either end of it (we had brought that with us from Holland
in 1951).
When I was in position under the house, I yelled to Anne, who then
filled the little basin with concrete and I pulled it towards me while
Anne held onto a rope attached to the second handle to pull it back
as soon as I had emptied it.
It worked like a charm and saved me a lot of crawling in and out,
which even without any debris was a hell of a dusty affair.
I don’t recall how long the reblocking took me, but I know it was “a
hell of a job”. The height of the blocks varied from 18” to 30” and I
dragged them on a jute bag as I crawled under. The smallest crawl
space was near the front of the house, but towards the back there
were spaces where I could just sit up. I am pretty sure that there
must have been close to one hundred blocks to replace.
After I had finished I swore that I would never again do such a job.
And I never did!
After this exercise it became a case of tackling one room at a time,
and progress depending on finance available.
The original layout of the house was a basic standard one of the
early 1900’s when the house was built. The front door leading into
a passage from which rooms to the left and right were accessed.
Two on each side. At the end of the passage were the kitchen, the
bathroom and a spare room to the east of the house. Off the
kitchen was a small room (The old “maid’s” room) and attached to
the east of the main part of the house was an enclosed “sun room’
with 2 walls fully opening windows; I’m sure this room was a later
addition to the house. The width of the main passage was over 5
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feet (approximately 1.5 m) and the stud height (floor to ceiling) in
the house was 11 feet (3.3 m).
3 August 2004
I won’t bore you with all the details of alterations; suffice to mention
that some of the main upheavals were: taking down two brick
chimneys, altering the bathroom and bringing the toilet inside, and
shifting the kitchen from one end of the house to the other end (the
“sun room”), and finally the demolishing of the old washhouse and
“outhouse” at the back of the house and replacing these with a
large “rumpus room” and a double roofed-over carport.
In between all this I also managed to build a 12-foot canoe (in the
lounge!) and enlarged the little bach at Ongare Point which we had
been given the use of. As well I built, altered and designed several
weaving looms for Anne.
I had better enlarge a bit about the latter:
Apart from helping me, the house work and the four children to look
after, Anne found time to develop some hobbies. It started with an
interest in wool. Spinning, dyeing and knitting from the fleece to the
finished article. Apart from well-known dyes such as flax seeds,
onion skins and “old man’s beard” moss we experimented with all
sorts of concoctions, some very evil smelling!!
Through this interest Anne got to know Jocelyn Mountain who with
her husband Guy had a farm at Ongare Point. They were potters
and weavers.
They were the ones who offered Anne the use of the little “bach” at
Ongare Point for our family. Several people had rejected the same
offer, but we grabbed the offer with both hands. It was right on the
beach although almost invisible from the road as well as the
shoreline because of the tall gorse bushes around it.
But back to Anne’s hobby! From the humble beginnings and
courageous experimenting Anne became one of the foremost
weavers in New Zealand. The rumpus room addition to the back of
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the house became Anne’s weaving studio with her bigger 4-shaft
looms permanently set up.
Later I developed a small fold-up portable loom of which some ten
fitted in our car, and Anne travelled far and wide giving weaving
classes (as well as at home). I made these small looms in the
garage and we sold quite a few of them.
After our divorce Deborah’s first husband-to-be, Bruce Maxwell,
took over producing these looms, made some improvements to
them and marketed them as the “Port-a-loom”. Eventually he sold
out to, I think, a Dunedin outfit.
When Anne started weaving looms were hard to find in New
Zealand so she spread the word far and wide to let it be known that
she wanted to buy a loom.
One of the early responses to this search was from some old
farmers (I’m not sure whether they were a couple of old bachelors
or 2 old spinsters) up in the hills towards the coast. A “loom” was
somewhere in an old shed on the farm. So, at the first opportunity
off we went and found, not a loom, but an old spinning wheel, not
quite complete but with all essential parts still on it, covered in
chicken shit.
It was a bit of a disappointment but we acquired it nevertheless,
cleaned it up and restored it to working order. I think it is at
Deborah’s place now.
What about the kids? Coming back to New Zealand late in 1959
Helen and Deborah were ready for primary school and started at
the Waihi South School, which has since been closed, in Victoria
Street. Judy and Michael followed suit there when “of age” but also
benefited from some pre-school attendance at Play Centre.
From its inception at Waihi Anne took an active part in Play Centre
and despite her busy life always had time for all four of our children.
After Primary School followed Intermediate School in Moresby
Avenue and finally College in Kensington Road both of which were
very handy to our house at 22 Moresby Avenue.
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From early on we took the children on camping holidays. I had
bought a homemade trailer from a retired doctor in Waihi which I
finally disposed of in 2000. It served us well and on trips was
loaded to the hilt. Our first big trip was up North where we camped
on a private farm along the coast, north of Whangarei.
En route through Auckland we picked up a brand new tent, ordered
at Farmers, a 10x15 foot tent with two centre poles. It was a heavy
brute, but lasted us for many years. Standing out in my memory is
the first night after setting up camp. It was a small hollow in the
dunes, and an easterly storm with heavy rain developed overnight.
So in the middle of the night I doubled up the tent stays in the
pelting rain and a howling gale and dug a little trench around the
tent to stop the floor flooding.
All was well in the morning. The sun came out and the farmer’s wife
came down from the house with a tray of hot scones!! We all went
for a walk along the beach, 5 km of it with not a soul in sight, doing
some beachcombing. Heavy seaweed littered the beach but we
also found several of the large Japanese glass fishing net floats,
which are now made of plastic. We had glorious weather for the
rest of that holiday.
Another memorable holiday trip was the one around the East Cape.
In those years you could still pull up along the road side if you
spotted a likely site to pitch a tent.
We spotted a promising site late in the afternoon well east of
Whakatane along the coast road and not far from the Motu River.
We made camp and Anne cooked up a large pot of macaroni
cheese for dinner. We finished our meal and there were enough
left-overs for another meal. Just on dark a car pulled up with a
young Maori family looking for a camp site. There was enough
room so they set up camp near us.
Anne offered them our left-over macaroni cheese which offer they
gratefully accepted. The next day we drove to the Motu River and
spent the day there with the kids, enjoying “lilo rides” in the shallow
water channels away from the main river channel, sunbathing and
a picnic lunch.
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On arriving back at our camp site, imagine our surprise as we
found a large crayfish awaiting us. A “thank you” gift from the Maori
family we had “helped out” the night before. The husband and his
young son had spent the day gathering seafood on the rocky coast.
Once the bach at Ongare Point was fully organised we spent many
long weekends and holidays with the family and friends there.
Particularly after the extension was completed we quite often had a
crowd at the place.
I had sunk a shallow bore equipped with a hand pump for our water
supply and rigged up an outside shower at the back of the bach.
The “lawn”, established by cutting any regrowth with the
lawnmower, extended right to the water’s edge when the tide was
in. At low tide the mud flats, on which one could walk, extended
several hundred meters to the main channel.
We finished up with quite a little fleet on the water. We had earlier
bought a little rowing dinghy. To this was added the canvascovered canoe I built in the lounge, and a bit later the centre-board
“Idle Along” yacht which we bought in Auckland.
How I got it to Ongare Point is worth recording. I took the trailer to
Auckland to have a look at the boat. I hoped that it would fit onto
the trailer if I was satisfied with the way it looked. I thought it was a
nice boat and consequently bought it. Then I loaded it onto the
trailer, but there was just one problem: The Zephyr had no wing
mirrors, only a rear view one, and I had no rear vision. It was also
quite a heavy load.
Anyway, I took off for the ride home with a rag tied to the end of the
protruding mast, but once I was out of the 30 mile-per-hour urban
areas the heavy load prevented me from reaching the speed limit of
the open road. I therefore kept as far left as I could and where
possible pulled over to the side of the road, allowing other vehicles
to pass me.
All went well until about half an hour out of Auckland when
suddenly a police car siren started blasting behind me. “Traffic
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cops!” flashed through my mind, and as soon as I stopped a police
officer was at my window. I wound my window down and he asked
me, “What can you see at the rear when you are driving, sir?” to
which I replied, “Nothing!” So he said, “That’s what I thought
because I have been on your tail for quite a few miles. The only
reason I will let you off with a warning is that you have been driving
very considerately for the following traffic!” I thanked him profusely
and had no further mishaps.
Another addition to our fleet was a heavy clinker built sloop which
we found washed up on the beach. We secured it, got some oars
for it and had the odd family outing in it, as it could easily hold all of
us. On one such occasion we misjudged the outgoing tide. We had
been to Tanner’s Point and instead of following the channel, which
was a very long and tortuous route we cut across the shallows. Half
way along we grounded and the sloop was far too heavy to push
over the mud flats. So we anchored it and walked home to the bach
and then we just picked it up on the next incoming tide.
Just past the bach was a small cabin boat with an inboard motor
washed up on the beach, the “kotuku”. There didn’t seem to be
anything wrong with it and we often wondered why it was never
claimed. Over the years it slowly went to wreck and ruin.
I think partly because of our fleet of small boats all our children
became competent on the water.
Gradually Ongare Point became too quiet for our two eldest
daughters Helen and Deborah, particularly during the main summer
holidays when all the action was at nearby Waihi Beach.
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Pot-Pourri of Events
21 April 2005
Yes it has been quite a while, so I better take up my pen to
“complete” my tale.
I don’t recall exactly when, but eventually we gave up the bach. At
one stage Judy lived in it for a while full time. Some other people
enjoyed it for a while, until a fire totally destroyed it, and now most
of the “lawn” area included is fully overgrown again. In passing in
my travel nowadays I occasionally turn off the highway to have a
look at the spot. On my last visit I noticed that a small area is being
(publicly?) mown. What is pleasing is that a small pohutukawa
seedling we transplanted when it was some 6 inches tall has grown
into quite a stately tree. It is the only survival from a small row we
planted parallel to the road. It is on the left of the end of the road,
facing the sea.
In the following I will jot down some major happenings and
experiences not necessarily in chronological order, so it will be a bit
of a pot-pourri.
Australia Bange Family Reunion 1969
In 1969 we had a Bange family reunion in Australia to
commemorate Mum’s and Dad’s 50-years wedding anniversary.
They came out by boat from Holland and we all congregated at
Tony and Nel’s place. John, Cor and daughter Joan came down
from Brisbane by car, Truus with Robert and Marianne flew down
from Canada (en route they stayed in Waihi for a few days). The six
of us flew to Melbourne.
From memory Tony had organised some caravans on his section to
accommodate us all. The only one missing was Truus’s husband
Oscar. It was quite an occasion with a family dinner one night at a
cliff-top restaurant overlooking Mornington Peninsula.
After the celebrations John and his family and the six of us took off
by car back to Brisbane where John had his family grocer shop. We
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travelled in two cars, a big Holden station wagon and a smaller
Renault which was John’s favourite. How John had two cars at
Tony’s I cannot recall. We were loaded to the hilt with camping and
picnic gear included, but no tents. The first day out I was taking
some photos of the children playing in a dry river bed, to fill up a
film!!
However, when the counter display on the camera went past 36
photos and I could still take pictures I became suspicious, and my
worst fears were confirmed. After loading the film I had not checked
whether it was advancing, and it was not! And that was the film
supposed to have all the family shots at dinner!! I was so
disappointed, as these photos would have been the only records of
that dinner.
Anyway, history, so on we went to our first stop somewhere along
the coast at a large camping ground with cabins to rent. We had
not made any bookings as our travel plans were “to play it by ear”.
We pulled up at the office. “Have you any vacancies?” “Yes, one
unit, how many of you?” “Nine!” Whoa!! Not a hope! So we
explained that we had our own camp stretchers and sleeping bags
and were quite happy to squeeze in.
Fortunately the one family unit vacant was quite large and the
camp manager was willing to accommodate us. What we had not
realised and certainly had not even thought of was that the school
holidays had started!!
Our next stop was Canberra, where we made a “bee line” to the
information centre to find out about accommodation. They looked at
us as if we were from Mars. “Are you kidding? No bookings!
Everything is full and overflowing!”
But one person in the Centre suddenly piped up, “Hang on a
minute! There is an Italian Motel operator who was planning to
expand and has bought the shop next door which was vacant.”
Off we trotted to the address supplied. We explained our
predicament, 5 kids and our own bedding.
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Once again we were in luck, if we were happy he would let us use
the vacant shop. The shop abutted the footpath and the windows
had been whitewashed so people could not look in. It had a little
kitchen, toilet and water so we were soon settled in, and after the
children were bedded down we listened to some passing footpath
traffic conversation.
The following morning we had ordered breakfast in the motel and
the proprietor was so delighted that we had been willing to use the
empty shop that he could not do enough for us. We had bacon and
eggs, sausages, fried tomatoes, toast, etc, etc. Next stop the
outskirts of Sydney and it was raining! We managed to find a
caravan park and rented two caravans for the night. The worst stop
over of our trip, but we had a roof over our head.
The next stop was north of Sydney on the coast. Here we found an
old country style hotel a la Rob Roy or the Stirling in Waihi and got
some very basic rooms; beds and wash hand basin. Toilets and
bathrooms up the passage, and a TV room for guests. We
managed to sneak our supplies of food up to the rooms via the fire
escape back stairs, including some fish and chips we had bought.
The kids wanted to go and watch TV taking their chips with them!!
“No, after you’ve finished your chips!” They accepted that. For what
the pub supplied, the room rates were exorbitant, I recall.
The last stop before we reached Brisbane was once again at a
seaside resort, but here we struck utter luxury! It was a modern
motel with everything, TV, radio and amenities in the large suites,
there was even a trampoline in the garden. All this for the same
price as the old country pub of the night before!!
After we had settled the children us four adults treated ourselves to
a lovely Chinese meal (king prawns) in a nearby restaurant.
The next stop was John’s house in Brisbane.
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Visits to Holland Visit 1972, 1973
In 1972, on my father’s insistence, I made a hurried trip to Holland.
Mother had been bedridden after a severe stroke, and wanted to
see me once more. Father paid for my trip out of my part of his
inheritance. I packed as much as I could into that trip: Visited John
in Brisbane as a first stop, then flew on to Sydney for transfer to a
Thai Airways flight to Bangkok where I had planned a 2-day
stopover.
My transfer from domestic to international flight centre did not leave
me much time. When I had already checked in my luggage I was
told that the Thai flight had been overbooked and I could not board!
Frantically looking for alternative flights to Bangkok, but the best I
could get was a British Airways flight as far as Singapore on to
Bangkok next day. Not good enough. At the British Airways counter
the comment was, “sometimes we are surprised that Thai Air has
actually got a plane on the tarmac!”
By this time I was getting a bit panicky as my luggage was on
board the Thai plane.
In the middle of trying to arrange for my luggage to get unloaded
there suddenly was a call over the speaker system for me to report
to Thai Airways. And “lo and behold!” I was directed to board the
plane. I was only just on board when the air bridge was withdrawn,
the doors closed, and the plane was moving for departure. What a
blessing that I was on my own. Just imagine this happening with a
family!
Phew! Once on board I have to admit that the service was
admirable and so was the food.
The hotel was on the river water front and I booked myself a dinner
and show at the hotel desk, did some shop browsing during the day
and bought some Thai silk for Anne.
On to Amsterdam and spend a few days with Dad visiting Mum
daily at the rest home. She still recognised me but at times was
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vague and disorientated. Mother lasted quite a few years after my
visit and finally died in 1978.
After a few days in Holland I flew back and had arranged for a stopover in Canada to visit sister Truus. The first time I had visited her.
Back in Waihi I “collapsed” shortly after arriving home and spent
several days in bed recovering.
In 1973 it was Anne’s turn and she spent some time in Holland with
family and friends.
The Children
Also around this time our young ones started “to leave the nest”,
starting with Helen. She started studying and working in Auckland.
Boarding with aunty Jeanne + uncle Jo for a start. She met Roger
Harrison (studying engineering) and in 1976 they married in our
garden at 22 Moresby Avenue, Waihi. The wedding breakfast and
party was in the Victoria Hall in Waikino.
While engaged Roger was a regular visitor at our place and I am
pretty sure that he helped me with the last improvement to our
property; replacing the two broken driveway strips with a concrete
driveway.
Meantime Deborah obtained (after a very rigorous selection
process) an American Field Scholarship and spent a year with her
AFS parents, Peggy and Jim Danna and AFS sister Janet in
California. She had a glorious time there and completed her
schooling at Waihi College after her return.
Our youngest daughter Judy caused us more worries than our 3
other children combined. She was determined to leave school at
the earliest at 15 years old.
I am not sure now whether she did not beat Deborah in “leaving the
nest.”
She met and lived with several “alternative lifestylers”. Had a brief
spell in Australia with one at an early age but “homed in” from time
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to time. I think deep in her heart she knew that no matter what she
could always come home to us.
One event in Judy’s early “career” is still vivid in my mind. She had
applied for a one year study course in Hamilton, at what was then
still the Polytechnic. There were 200 applicants for 12 positions on
the course. Judy got in as one of the 12. I think originally we found
board for her. But a few months later she advised us of a change of
address. We felt a bit uneasy about that, so I went off to Hamilton
one day to assess the situation having advised Judy of the date I
was coming.
Her address was a large old villa in central Hamilton and as Judy
took me to her room via the back yard (full of junk) we passed a
large lobby with a mezzanine floor in it, full of drapes and a
reclining “guru” on it. He obviously was the boss of this den of
iniquity.
Anyway Judy’s room was neat and tidy and I took her out to lunch
at a nearby Chinese restaurant. The story unfolded. She had
abandoned the course and was working as a shop assistant in
town. I told her that in abandoning the course she had deprived one
of the many applicants of the chance to join and that I was
disappointed in that. She had not thought this through.
Anyway Judy eventually “homed in” on Waihi again and landed a
job at AMAX, the American mining company which had the capital
and was willing to evaluate Martha Hill once and for all. Their Waihi
company office was then in School Lane where now the Medical
Centre is.
Meantime lost sight of Michael a bit in this story. He had joined the
Air Training Corps (ATC) as a cadet. They trained in the old Drill
Hall (behind the then Borough Office –now Chambers Restaurant),
since demolished and now the site of the Recreation Centre. He
was also a Venturer Scout for a number of years and was
presented one year at Government House in Auckland with his
Queen’s Scout Award by the then Governor General Sir Keith
Holyoake. Quite a ceremony, which Anne and I, very proudly,
attended.
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Eventually Michael obtained a Forestry Cadetship with the New
Zealand Forestry Service which initially involved training at the
Kaingaroa Forestry School near Rotorua. While still in Waihi Mike
had got himself a small motorbike which he had traded up to a
larger bike by the time he was in Kaingaroa. (I think it was a 400 cc
Honda, a “beaut”).
Then one evening we got the for any parent dreaded phone call.
“Your son had an accident and is in Rotorua Hospital”. We (Anne
and I) hurriedly packed some essentials in the car and took off to
Rotorua. There we found Mike and one of his mates in a room.
Michael looked absolutely untouched, but his mate looked the worst
for wear. Talking to the doctor we found out that Michael was the
worst off. His mate’s injuries were extensive, but superficial, but
they suspected that Mike had a bruised aorta!! and arrangements
were being made to fly him to Auckland, Greenlane Hospital.
From memory we stayed the night in Rotorua. The small plane
would have no room for either of us, so we travelled by car to
Auckland “keeping everything crossed”.
Apparently in Auckland awaiting Mike’s arrival a complete heart
operating team had been put on standby. First additional x-rays
were made which disclosed no damage to the aorta but showed
that Mike had several fractured vertebrae and the risk for paralysis
was severe. The result was a further transfer to Middlemore
Hospital where Michael finished up in a “Turtle Bed”. He was not
allowed to move at all for weeks (I think it was 6 weeks). The
“Turtle Bed’ allowed for Michael to be regularly turned over from
back to stomach to avoid bed sores developing.
That was quite an anxious time for all of us. Eventually the
vertebrae knitted together and Mike finished up with a “stiff” section
of his back.
Apparently what had happened, causing the accident, was that a
ute with several of Mike’s mates in it lost control and rolled while
travelling in front of Mike. Seeing that happening caused Mike to
veer onto the shoulder of the road (loose metal) and crash himself.
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They were on their way from the Kaingaroa Forestry Camp to
spend an evening in Rotorua.
Well, I better get back on track with my own story. After all that is
what these “memoirs” are meant to be. But then, the family growing
up and events happening to them are part of the story.
Anne’s weaving had advanced in leaps and bounds and the large
rumpus room I had added to the back of our house had become her
studio with several big looms set up permanently and a large
stockpile of yarns in all colours of the rainbow.
In 1981 an opportunity arose for a visit to America. An American
friend, Jane, living in Hamilton planning a trip home was what I
think started the things off. Anyway it finished up that she, Anne
and Paula Hinch (from Waihi) went to the States and were going
motorhoming there and amongst others would spend some time in
the Navajo area (renowned for its native weavers)
It proved to be a dramatic year for our family.
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Separation & Divorce
Anne had arranged for Doreen McLeod who did weekly housecleaning work for Anne to look after the house and my needs while
she was away.
Shortly after Anne’s departure I initiated what became a very
serious affair with Doreen. She was a willing partner in this but I
don’t say this as an excuse for my actions.
By the time Anne returned home I had more or less decided that I
would leave her and be seeking a divorce.
I think earlier on I mentioned that Judy had acquired a job with the
AMAX mining company in Waihi. While there she met an Australian
professional photographer who had been employed to take photos
for the company, John Gillis. He got “carried away” by Judy, and
Judy and John married in 1982 in Anne’s garden in Hamilton. (They
moved to Sydney). And in 1984 Michael and Maree married, also in
Anne’s garden.
Meanwhile Anne and my divorce (after 2 years separation) was
finalised in 1983 by Sylvia Cartwright (the current Governor
General of New Zealand) who was then a judge in the Family
Court.
My liaison with Doreen was not particularly kept a secret and
before long Doreen who was on a Domestic Purposes Benefit
(D.P.B.) with still some children at home was tipped off to cease
her benefit payments before she could land in trouble. She did and
I moved in with her at 61 Consols Street and we got married in
March 1985 in the garden there.
The last from our (Anne and me) foursome to tie the knot were
Deborah and Bruce Maxwell. They had been partners for many
years through thick and thin. From a good house in Hamilton to a
poky flat in Auckland (while Deborah did her doctor’s studies) and
now living in a lovely home in Birkenhead.
Their wedding in 1987 was in the “Kiosk” on Mt. Eden, Auckland.
I’ll come back to the children later when dealing with my final
chapter, the retirement period which started in 1988.
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Committees
Before that just a few brief remarks about my involvements outside
of my work in Waihi.
Shortly after arriving in 1960 I was invited and accepted as a
member of the local Rotary Club, and I soon became involved in
some of the “officers’” functions of the Club (song leader, sergeantat-arms) and eventually Vice President and President of the Club.
I achieved my main impact during my year as Vice President when
I organised the annual Rotary Ball in the Memorial Hall. For weeks
before a small band of willing workers had assembled at our home,
22 Moresby Avenue, in the evenings to cut out and paint up
“verandah signs” (applicable to the club members, many of whom
were in retailing).
The intention was to transfer the hall into Waihi’s main street.
Trouble was that no nails could be used in the hall. I had worked
out that everything could be suspended from the steel trusses in
the hall. But we needed a lot of rope and timber. Provided that we
did not cut the ropes and timber and returned it in good shape and
clean (no nails in timber) we could get as much as we needed
through some of our members (Albert Thomas -timbers, and Ernie
Hands -Waihi Hardware, ropes). I think we bought some nails.
There were very few suspended verandahs in Waihi at the time,
most had verandah posts on the kerb-line.
We could only have access to the hall the day before the ball.
Along both sides of the hall a light timber frame work was
supported by ropes from the trusses. The painted hardboard
verandah signs were nailed to the timbers, and between each sign
a “verandah post” (made out of sewn up calico with a stone in the
bottom) reached to the floor. We also had ponga trees and
greenery in the entrance foyer of the hall and some in the hall.
My willing (small) band of workers was slaving away and without
saying as much probably thought, “That so-and-so Bange must be
mad!”
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Things were moving very slowly as I was the only one with the idea
in my head, trying to explain what I was after.
Suddenly, I think it was close to midnight, one of the group said,
“Oh, is that what you want?!” and from then on rapidly everything
fell into place. I think we finished up at 2 o’clock in the morning with
only a handful of workers left by then.
Tables and chairs were grouped under the verandahs. I had
organised a live band from Auckland and a Maori concert party
from Rotorua and courtesy of Akrad closed circuit TV was installed
in the hall.
Well, it was a raving success. Nobody in town had ever seen the
Memorial Hall transferred like this. The Club did not “break even”
on the event, had a small loss, but nobody begrudged this.
The day after the same small band of willing workers helped to
dismantle and clean up for the return of the “borrowed” materials.
One hilarious event occurring during the ball was, later in the
evening when some people had imbibed in available drinks (tickets
were “all inclusive”) and started leaning against the “verandah
posts that weren’t”, which rapidly gave way much to the
consternation of the “leaners”.
I had also joined the Waihi Golf Club and bought myself a set of 2nd
hand golf clubs. Although I never became a golfer I enjoyed the
Saturday morning (men’s day) round and also the occasional outof-town Rotary golf tournament, usually attended by a couple of car
loads from Waihi. My friends Doug Saunders and Neil Christensen
(a brother of Chris Christensen, mayor of Waihi in 1960’s) were
usually in the group.
Two events of these tournaments stand out in my memories. The
first, shortly after I started playing, still on 36 handicap, happened
on the old 9-hole Te Puke course. That day I couldn’t do anything
wrong, hit the ball “sweetly” every time and finished the day with
several prizes, amongst them “the longest drive” and “the highest
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stable ford score of 46!” Murmurs in the club house of “Burglar,
burglar!” during prize-giving.
The second event happened on the southern motorway out of
Auckland. We had played in Henderson and had spent some time
in the “19th” at the club house after play and prize-giving. My
favourite tipple at the time was scotch whisky and ginger ale. Doug
Saunders was the driver of one car load and I of the second car
load. Before leaving we had arranged that we would meet at “The
Red Fox Tavern” for a meal.
This was shortly after speed limits had been changed from “mph” to
“km/hr” and my speedo (in miles) had “km”-stickers on it. Some 20
minutes out of Auckland I was cruising along at open road speed
when I slowly gained on a traffic officer’s car in front of me. Without
speeding up I changed lanes and slowly overtook him. Changed
back to the left lane when suddenly siren and flashing lights behind
me.
I slowed down and pulled over on the shoulder, wound down my
window and tried to keep my breath out of the traffic officer’s face
when he said, “Did you know that you were exceeding the speed
limit, sir?” and I replied that I had travelled at maximum road speed
(100 km/hr) according to my speedo, but as his speedo was
officially calibrated and mine not I had to accept his word.
He had a look and saw the stickers on my speedo and let me off
with a warning. The cop could easily have thrown the book at me. I
had a Falcon station wagon at the time and the back was loaded
with golf clubs in full view. That, the time of day, early evening, and
four men in a car, could only mean one thing: On the way home
after the 19th!
While stopped, Doug who had been following me shot past and we
eventually met at “The Red Fox”. Doug’s first comment to me, “You
stupid idiot! Overtaking a traffic cop on the motorway!”
Enough Rotary and golf!
After the squash courts were built I also played squash for a while,
but not for long as I felt that it would have killed me.
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With our children participating I also became a member of the scout
committee for a while and was elected to the College Board of
Governors, eventually becoming Chairman of the Board.
Two events while on the Board stand out in my memories. The
building of the Gymnasium and the amalgamation of the College
and the Intermediate School into a Form 1-7 school.
For the latter I used my Chairman’s casting vote for the Board to
support the amalgamation. I have since been told that a “casting
vote” of the Chair is customary used to retain the status quo.
In my view the larger school would allow for a larger and more
diverse staff and a wider choice of subjects for the pupils which
would only benefit future pupils. The school has grown from
strength to strength and I have never regretted my voting decision.
The College Gymnasium was also a controversial issue in the
town. The only indoor “sports hall” in the town was the old army drill
hall behind the Borough offices used by quite a few organisations,
basket ball, badminton, ATC and others.
Several of these vowed not to support any fundraising for a College
Gym as they would not use it. They advocated a facility for
themselves in the form of a public gym as the College one would
only have public use for limited periods of time.
Common sense prevailed and fundraising for the College gym was
supported by the community. My own support for this development
was based on the reasoning that once built the College gym would
not require operating and maintenance costs to be met from the
ratepayers’ pockets.
Eventually a public gym could be built should the demand for such
a facility be proven.
I argued that should a public facility be built first the ongoing annual
costs would prevent a College gym ever being established.
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I was instrumental in the siting of the facility in cooperation with the
design consultants (I think they were Murray North from Hamilton).
The floor level I fixed to avoid the large building to dominate the
landscape. Considerable earthworks were required on site for this.
The one design item I did not succeed to get incorporated was for
the span of the building portals to be enlarged to allow for a
spectator gallery clear of the playing field.
The amenity once completed was fully utilised by all Drill Hall users
including the basketballers who refused to help with the
fundraising.
That covers all my “outside work” involvements I can recall, so now
to the final chapter of my tale.
5. My retirement in 1988 to the present.
I will start with my retirement and after that it will be a bit of a
mixture of what I did: family matters and whatever. Included will be
an odd item I missed out before and thus totally out of sequence.
One of these to begin with:
I mentioned earlier that when I started work in Waihi I had no
earlier municipal engineering experience. But I did not mention that
in the northern half of the North Island the municipal engineers had
started informal meetings amongst themselves several times a
year, where problems and/or developments of general interest
were tabled and discussed. This eventually led to a Municipal
Engineers Division being established within our National
Professional Engineers Institute.
Those informal meetings were invaluable and very supportive for
the likes of me, a “sole” practitioner in a small town. The meetings
were hosted by individual municipalities (of which at the time
Auckland Metropolitan area had some 27 I think) and the local
Mayor usually spoke a word of welcome. In time Waihi Borough
hosted one or two of these meetings.
Why I specially record the foregoing is that I am sure it led to me
becoming a “Fellow” of the Professional Engineers Institute.
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Promotion to this class of membership only resulted on nomination
by some senior members of the Institute. It was totally unexpected
and I am proud of it and feel greatly honoured. I strongly suspect
that some of my senior municipal colleagues must have been
involved in my nomination.
Retirement is quite a sudden change: starting with “farewell”
functions and possible “Presentations”. My employer, the Council
held one function for invited guests and presented me with an
inscripted silver tray and 6 silver wine goblets. I have given the tray
to Michael and the wine goblets are in daily use. Doreen has two of
them (she asked for them when we separated)
The Council’s function was of course held in the evening at the
Council chambers. A much treasured presentation was a framed
poem (commissioned by Deputy Mayer Ken Watters) titled “Henk
Bange”. It still hangs on my wall.
A further farewell function was organised by my outside staff and
held in the Bowling Club pavilion on the recreation reserve.
Quite a wide representation were invited to this function, including
tradesmen and local contractors and a good and boisterous time
was had by all. I was presented with a brown leather attaché case
which has been busily used ever since. I think my foreman, Bill,
had noticed my old battered leather briefcase I lugged around the
office (a remnant from my student days!).
And finally there was a further, totally unexpected farewell function
organised by one of the Council’s major consultants firms, Murray
North from Hamilton.
They organised a “Cocktail Hour” function at “Grand Pa Thorn’s”
restaurant in Waihi (at the time the top restaurant in Waihi). The
invite list is in my photo album (1988-present) and apart from
Borough councillors, Mayor and senior staff included reps from
Ohinemuri County and Paeroa Borough as well as the local M.P. I
much appreciated this function, which I never even thought of as a
possibility.
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While talking about the end of my working life, I will have to put on
record a remark made by Bruce Leach. I had a long working
relationship with Leach’s Quarries for the supply of roading metal.
Most supply contracts were based on mutual trust. One day Bruce
said to me, “You are not a typical engineer, Henk!” This remark I
still remember as a compliment.
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But onto my retirement. My last day at work was the 11th of
September 1987. Some 2 months later than planned as my
successor Barry Cox was due to start work on August 24th.
Accumulated annual leave resulted in my actual date of ceasing
employment becoming the 23rd December 1987.
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Although not looking for work after my retirement I was approached
by the Borough Council’s consultants whether I was interested to
oversee the contract for the Council’s sewage pond extensions. I
agreed to this and thus had a part time job for a while. Following
this I also did a couple of small jobs for the Waihi Gold Mining
Company and then fully retired.
Well before this I had become involved in one of Doreen’s ventures,
the publication of JBMcAra’s book “Gold Mining at Waihi 1878 to
1952 -2nd edition”. Doreen had done all the spade work and had
organised 5 sponsors to finance the venture on the basis that they
be refunded as a first call on revenue. Although the McAra family
had not asked for it Doreen felt that a small “royalty payment” per
copy sold should be made. After considerable deliberations we
finished up with ordering a 2000-copy reprint. The intention to have
the book available at the official opening of the open cast mine was
achieved.
To mark the opening of the Mine a dinner was held for invited
guests at the Golf Club building. As part of this the company
provided each guest with a complimentary copy of the book.
Specially numbered copies 01 to 100 signed by JB McAra were
arranged for (I have No 11).
Once the book was printed and delivery made, sales became the
main target. Fortunately The Waihi Gold Mining Company was
willing to store the almost 100 cartons of books when they arrived. I
became heavily involved in the sales and book-keeping of the
JBMcAra Book Trust from the start until the winding up in 1999.
There was quite a bit of work involved in this, but it was an
interesting experience. Although in setting the retail price we had
allowed for a “publisher’s fee” per copy to be paid to Doreen she
never received any payment until the winding up as the trust deed
laid down that full repayment to the sponsors ($ 25,000) was a first
call on funds. The sponsors accepted final payment in the form of
books at cost price as part of the winding up. Doreen acquired the
balance of the stock as publisher’s fee. Sales will gradually turn this
into cash for her.
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I think I mentioned earlier on in my story that The Waihi Gold
Mining Company established an Info Centre in a vacant shop in
town (in Seddon Street close to the Sterling Hotel) and that Doreen
was staffing this after having been taken on as info officer of the
Company around the early 1980’s.
Eventually The Gold Mining Company built an Information Centre
on the edge of Martha Hill just below the old pumphouse (No 5
shaft).
At that time some Waihi citizens were promoting the establishment
of a local general information centre to promote the district. The
stumbling block, as so often, was finance. Provision of a building
and operating and maintenance costs.
The Gold Company was approached and agreed to make provision
in their building for a shared occupancy. Thus the Waihi Info Centre
came into being, I think around 1990, manned by volunteers.
I became also heavily involved in this as a volunteer committee
member and during my last few years in Waihi as President of the
committee.
The Centre was open 7 days a week from 9am to 5pm in 2 shifts 91 and 1-5. Most volunteers, about 40+ did one shift per month with
a small number doing multiple shifts.
There were quite a few Information Centres on the Coromandel
Peninsula and this group became involved in regular informal
meetings to exchange ideas and experiences. Most of the
Information Centres on the Peninsula finished up with a paid
manager and struggled to attract enough volunteers. Waihi with its
large number of volunteers was the envy of all of them. I am sure
that the reason for this was that Waihi was totally run by volunteers
and totally free of local authority control. The latter was only made
possible through the “generosity” of the mining company. We only
paid a peppercorn rental for the occupancy of part of the
Company’s centre and the telephone was our only outgoing
expense. Therefore we did not have to rely on local authority grant.
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I believe that when I left Waihi in 2000 Waihi was one of only two
Info centres in New Zealand still voluntary manned in full.
Well I better backtrack a bit, even going back to before my
retirement.
After having done up our old house in 22 Moresby Avenue I vowed
I would never do up another old villa, but after I moved into
Doreen’s house at 61 Consols Street I couldn’t resist my “builders
pull”.
Years with Doreen
27 April 2006
Come on, Henk, put your “A” into “G” and finish your story.
The old villa in 61 Consols Street begged for some improvements
and over the years the following major works were achieved, this
time quite often assisted by builders and/or tradesmen:
-A double garage/workshop replacing/part of old outbuildings
(builder) –widening vehicle crossing and part of driveway and
erecting ponga retaining wall (family working bee, -Michael supplied
the pongas)
-Cobblestoning and kerbing the driveway and parking area behind
house (self)
-Taking down brick chimney, recovering bricks and use for paving
part yard East of house (self)
-Extending cover over and access to rear terrace, shifted steps and
added ramp (self and roofing contractor)
-Putting in ranch sliders from lounge and master bedroom and
added covered verandahs around house (builders)
-Building in spa pool and adding fenced access enclosures (self).
Waihi Borough Pool Permit No 1!!
-New kitchen and carpets throughout (tradesmen)
-Walk-in wardrobe in master bedroom (builders)
-Added en-suite to master bedroom (self and tradesmen)
-Added balustrades around west side of house to match existing
ones along front of house (builders)
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-Renewed/repaired fencing on side boundaries (timber east side,
iron on west side) (self)
-Put in small water feature in garden (self)
-Erected part of old Catholic Church bell tower on driveway (self and
Peter McClung’s tractor)
-Replacing ponga retaining wall along driveway by treated timber
(builders)
I think that just about covers it, once again spread over 10 to 15
years.
Meantime it was not all work and no play.
Doreen and I did quite a bit of travelling overseas, starting even
before my retirement.
Doreen’s brother Andrew and family were in Singapore, where he
was teaching at the International College. He and his wife Jenny
wanted to do a trip through part of Asia and wanted Doreen to babysit their young children (3 girls) while they were away, offering to
pay her airfares. I paid my own way and accompanied Doreen. This
was in 1983 (23rd March-18th April).
We made a little side trip through Malaysia before Doreen’s babysitting duties were over.
I am pretty sure I mentioned the Peelen girls early on, part of our
group in Salatiga (Java) before the 1940-45 war. Annemarie and
Gretl.
Don’t recall how contact with Gretl was established. She was
married to Joop Arnst, an accountant and lived in Hamilton at the
time. We had a “sate/kebab” evening with them at a bach in
Whangamata and talked about our upcoming trip. “Well”, said Gretl,
“Get hold of my sister (Annemarie Blomberg) in Auckland, her
husband has an import/export business on the island of Penang.”
I duly did this and contacted Blomberg in Penang, indicating we
may visit him. Got word back, welcome.
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Andrew got us train tickets from Singapore to Ipoh. We had a
stopover in Kuala Lumpur and made a side trip to the old
Portuguese/Dutch seaside town of Malacca. The two (now framed)
water colours hanging in the passage of my house in Te Puke we
bought there from a local artist (Malay $10.- each)
I had exchanged our through train tickets in Kuala Lumpur for travel
to Ipoh later. We booked into an old colonial type hotel across the
road from the station., when I realised I had the wrong dates for our
exchanged rail tickets. So, while Doreen settled in I went back to the
station to alter our tickets. Well, what a to do. Could not be done.
Finished up in the station master’s office with every member of the
station staff having a go. Doreen thought I would never come back
and they had arrested me.
In the end I managed to exchange our tickets for the right date.
We spent one night in Malacca in a so-called “Chinese Hotel”. Dirt
cheap and spotless (Nobody spoke any English). Had a “Chilly
Crab” dinner at one of the native dinner houses along the
waterfront.. Next day in a “communal taxi” to Kuala Lumpur. Fixed
price, and as soon as the car is full, off you go.
Before taking off in the train again I just have to mention and
describe the bathroom in our Kuala Lumpur hotel. I knew them from
my days in the tropics, but Doreen had never seen one. It was a big
tiled room, “en suite” to the bedroom with a large square (about
1.5m x 1.5m) water basin (about 1 m deep) in one corner.
So you douse yourself with water using a scoop, soap yourself and
rinse yourself again using the scoop (you don’t go in the basin). The
floor got a drain hole, so you can splash to your heart’s content.
Off to Ipoh, where we had a long walk to find a “hotel”. Found out
later we were near, or just inside the “red Light” district.
Went to a nearby taxi stand to arrange and negotiate for a taxi ride
to the ferry terminal crossing to Penang the next morning.
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All went well, and Blomberg was at the ferry in Penang. Took us to
a “Chinese Hotel” and insisted on viewing the room personally
before we booked in. Was OK, so we had a base.
He also drove us around on a “tiki tour”, and invited us to have
dinner at a top class Chinese restaurant, where we had the most
scrumptious meal. We did some sight-seeing ourselves. The old
Dutch fort. Went by bus to the upper class tourist hotels beaches
(Bukit Tingi) and had a swim.
Boy, the beach was alright, but the sea!! You couldn’t see the
bottom, and regularly slithered on some plastic bag or other debris.
The colour of the water was light brown. Had a rain shower while
there, the sea was warmer than the rain. Also did a taxi tour around
the island, visiting a snake temple. Flew back to Singapore for our
baby-sitting. The kids took us to all the spots we should see: the
zoo, the Jurong bird gardens, Santosa Island, and a large
swimming pool complex with huge water slides.
We had another contact in Singapore, Stuart Menzies, an engineer I
had worked with in Iraq, was at the time stationed there and lived in
an apartment in one of the tower high rises. We visited him there,
and he and his wife invited us to spend a weekend going to the east
coast of Malaysia, a “short drive” out of Singapore.
What a surprise awaited us. The place was a large fishing village,
and you hired one of the motorised fishing boats for the day to take
you to one of the off-shore islands. Most uninhabited. Took a picnic
lunch with us. Glorious beaches, but rather nasty spiky sea
creatures you had to avoid. The boat anchors off-shore, until you
hail it.
We had a little siesta underneath the palms, and Doreen had a
wander around the little island. At one stage she heard rustling in
the dense undergrowth, and she thought “What if it is a tiger?!” So
she kept close to the water, being a good swimmer she would dive
in and swim away from the danger.
(It wasn’t until after this weekend that we visited the Singapore zoo,
and there in the tiger enclosure Doreen spotted a tiger swimming!)
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After waking up from our siesta we spotted a pronounced trail in the
sand close by. Stuart recognised it and said it had been made by a
Komodo dragon, very large lizards that live on these islands.
During the day a Jap family was dropped off on “our” island, quite a
distance away.
That evening we had dinner in the hotel on shore, and the same
family was there, very excited. They had called for their boat in a
hurry (this was after we had left), because suddenly out of the
bushes a terrible animal had come onto the beach!! Another
Komodo dragon.
We spent a few more days with Andrew and Jennie after they came
back from their trip, and did some more sight-seeing and shopping.
We particularly liked a small local shopping centre, called Holland
Village. Visited also old Chinatown. This is rapidly disappearing,
flattened a block at a time, and replaced by modern high-rises.
Eventually quite a lot of the “old Singapore atmosphere” will be lost!!
But all good things come to an end, and winging our way back
home to New Zealand we spent a couple of days “en route” with
Judy and John in Sydney.
In the following I will only briefly recount our various trips, only
elaborating if something very special comes to mind. The photo
albums with our trip photos will speak for themselves.
Our next trip was in 1986 with George and Cherry Gay to Western
Samoa. George (the Waihi Borough solicitor) and I had worked our
guts out on the conditions for the mining development in Waihi,
often whole weekends at George’s home at Waihi Beach. By 1986
all the “i’s” had been dotted and “t’s” crossed, so George felt a
“break” would be in order. The Gays (also good old friends of
Doreen’s) asked whether we would be interested to share a week’s
holiday at “The Islands”. We picked Western Samoa and the
second main island Savaii. It was a delightful experience.
I have to go into some detail about this trip. We had booked through
our Waihi travel agent, who had as a “travel consultant” contact in
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Samoa a young lady who had just started off in the travel business.
Anyway, we arrived in Apia and had one overnight stay there,
before we would fly from a local air strip to Savaii.
First “hick up”, our little plane had a break-down, so we had to use
another one and land on the wrong end of Savaii. Road transport
would be organised to take us from there to our holiday resort.
Apparently the little planes (Cessnas) were more often out of action
than flying. Somebody remarked that the propellers were powered
by rubber bands!! twisted!
So we got across. Road transport? Eventually and old ute was
found (for 4 of us + luggage and driver). We piled in. George Gay in
front. Then it started to rain. (Fortunately tropics –warm rain). No
problem. The driver pulled into a house of one of his relatives, and a
plastic sheet was produced to cover us at the back. We saw a lot of
the island, had to go around two thirds of it to get to our
accommodation. This happened to be two bures located on a little
land spit jutting out into the lagoon. Fully self contained and
verandahs overlooking the lagoon. We sipped our local beers and
nibbles here in the early evenings. We bought fresh supplies every
day from a shop just up the road. The resort was owned by the son
of one of the chieftains, who occasionally turned up for a swim in
the lagoon. He had a full lower body tattoo down to his knees, every
inch covered.
Meals were served in a roofed-over communal dining area (no
walls) with plenty of tropical fruits at breakfast.
Single-person outrigger canoes were freely available for use, and if
we tried to double up in them they flooded, and one person finished
up swimming behind it. The lagoon was shallow enough to stand up
in, but the odd coral patches were very sharp.
Doreen’s “natural” ability to meet and mix with people came once
more to the fore. A friend of one of Doreen’s friends had been a
teacher for a few years on the island of Savaii, and she had asked
Doreen to take a parcel over to a family she had befriended there.
The village where they lived happened to be only a short bus ride
from where we stayed, so Doreen went up one day and finished up
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staying the night in the village. The people were so hospitable she
just could not refuse.
It was quite an experience, and she was treated as an honoured
guest, as well as being a novelty to all the children of the village.
As an aftermath to Doreen’s visit, shortly before our holiday ended,
the whole family paid us a return visit. Unbeknown to us they had
been waiting on the roadside for some time, before finally some of
the family were allowed to enter the site of our resort.
And, they had brought a return gift, a live, small suckling pig!! (We
donated this to the resort kitchen).
After much “toing and froing” the family finally said their good-byes.
Just one final happening on this holiday. On our due departure date
once again the little plane was not flying, so we returned to the main
island by ferry (converted wartime landing craft).
To our surprise awaiting us at the ferry terminal was our young lady
travel agent, full of apologies about the plane not flying and our
willingness to accept all the inconveniences this must have caused
us. She had transport for us and took us to her home for cool drinks.
And as there was time to spare before our departure to New
Zealand she took us to a secluded swimming hole on a nearby
river.
I don’t know whether she is still in business, but she certainly
deserved to have succeeded. (Angela Pascoe, our Waihi travel
agent, might know).
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12 January 2007
A few days ago I came back from my last visit to Helen. My sister
Truus and her daughter Marianne had come over from Canada for a
three weeks holiday, finishing with a trip up North to Cape Reinga
and the 90-mile beach. The day after my 83rd birthday (at Helen’s) I
dropped them off at Auckland International airport for their trip
home.
Why I mention all this is that at Christmas time I got a pile of my
typed memoirs from Helen and managed to proof-read all those and
some more Helen had at home by the time I left her. There are still
some pages to be typed, but now the pressure is on me to complete
what is worth recording to date of my life. So here goes.
Before I start with a “brief summary” of my major travelling after
retirement, mainly with Doreen, but at times on my own, I would
have to “slot in” here the arrival of my and Anne’s first grandchild.
Helen’s son Mark arrived on September 7th 1988 in San Francisco.
Anne went over to spend some time with Helen and Roger.
Now about the travels.
A special return flight offer to Perth including a week’s
accommodation there initiated a visit to Western Australia in 1988.
Refer to Photo Folder “Western Australia and Sydney 1988”. (Notes
on back of photos).
The main target was going to be a series of goldmine visits. Claude
Anaru, a son of Albert Anaru (principal of Waihi Intermediate School
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for many years) worked as surveyor in the Golden Crown
underground mine, north of Perth in Cue. As well a geologist at the
Waihi mine (a colleague of Doreen’s) gave us introductions to
several mine managers east of Perth.
We landed in Perth in the evening, booked into our prepaid motel,
and told them “Do not worry if you do not see us for a week,
because we will be away”.
Picked up our rental car next morning, bought extra water and petrol
containers, filled them up, and left on our “mining tour”.
First stop Westonia (gold extraction by leaching pads) on the way to
Kalgoorlie via Coolgardie. Some amazing sights in Kalgoorlie,
topless barmaids, but also deep open cast workings just off the
edge of the road with only a wire mesh fence between the two.
One of the old taverns, the Boulder Block Tavern, has a mine shaft
in the lounge bar. The story goes that in the old days, when the
miners got thirsty they popped up this shaft for a drink!!
Made a short trip south to a mine at Kambalda. Travelling along I
remarked to our driver guide, after seeing some dirty long-legged
sheep “what poor country this is, there’s hardly any growth apart
from scarce salt bushes”. His response was “This is prime sheep
country here”. I do not recall whether it was 1 sheep to the acre or
to 10 acres. I think it was 10.
Travelling north from Kalgoorlie we made a very short detour to an
historical remnant, “The Broad Arrow Pub”, now in the middle of
nowhere, and had a cool drink. Still as originally built and not
upgraded.
Onwards to Leonora, an oasis in the desert landscape we had and
were still going to travel through.
We had a swim in a public pool there. Had to keep a move on, so
on to Agnew. Short stop and leg stretch. An old aboriginal on the
footpath asked “Where you heading for?” We said “Cue”. “No way
you’ll get there tonight” he replied after bludging a cigarette.
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He was dead right, and we had the good sense to stop early
evening in Sandstone, a pub and a petrol pump, where we were
lucky to find a vacancy for the night and a meal.
Next day we took off for Cue, and with practically no signposting
found we had taken a wrong turn. We were following fence lines,
and Doreen remarked that there were no empty drink or beer cans
along the roadside. We were obviously on a homestead access
road to ?? Turned around and carried on when we hit the “main
drag”. And lo and behold, a few kilometres on a dilapidated signpost
at a junction said “CUE”, also empty cans along the roadside. We
would have got hopelessly lost had we carried on the night before.
We spent three days with Claude A and his family, and apart from a
tour through the underground mine Claude showed us around the
area; the Big Bell Mine (from which staff is regularly flown to the
coast for relaxation); visit to a fossicker (using metal detectors to
find old relics); visit to a billabong, where Doreen found a big
crystal; the golf course –no grass, even on the “greens”; the cricket
pavilion.
From Cue to Perth we were going to travel over sealed roads, so I
gave the rental car a good wash and vacuum. You should have
seen the red water coming off the car. Arriving in Perth the evening
before our departure, and returning the rental car they still said:
“Sorry, we have to charge you for a car clean-up”. I did not argue
about it, the red dust was almost impossible to get rid of.
Next day we left for Sydney, where we spent four days with Judy
and John Gillis at their King’s Cross flat.
Next trip was a big one, to the Western USA and Canada, with
Doreen.
Before starting on this one, just something I forgot to mention about
our Western Australia trip: -We were extremely lucky, that in the
short time we were there we saw the “wild flowers” colouring the
landscape in many places.
The tour to the USA was going to be more of a holiday trip and
visiting some friends and family. (* Refer large photo album “1990 –
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Western USA – Vancouver – Victoria – Banff trip”. Photos
annotated on back).
However, Doreen also had some mining contact references through
the American companies involved in the local mines (AMAX and
Cyprus), Martha in Waihi and Golden Cross in the Waitekauri
Valley.
I spent a lot of time sorting out an itinerary, trying to include as
much as possible within a time restrained period. Although I being
retired had no problem, Doreen could not justify too long a break in
her job. We finished up with a 7-week travel plan, arriving in Los
Angeles and departing from Vancouver “zigzagging” our way up
through the Western USA.
We decided that most of our travel should be by train, and acquired
AMTRAK rail passes for the Western USA.
For stopovers of a few days we had booked rental cars at
Albuquerque, Flagstaff and Denver and stopovers in San Francisco
with Mike and Crissie (old friends of Helen and Roger), and with my
sister Truus on Vancouver Island and the Jacksons (ex Cyprus
manager in Waihi) in Vancouver.
We “did” Disneyland, made a day trip (bus) to Tijuana and San
Diego, visiting the S.D. killer whale display. Our tour guide had
stressed to go for the “blue spectator seats”, being the best for
watching. Us “suckers” obliged, and I don’t know how I kept my
camera dry. As part of the display the orcas made some running
jumps, crashing back into the water and engulfing the blue seats!!
Should also mention our visit to the Queen Mary (permanently
moored in a harbour basin and partly used as an hotel) and the
Spruce Goose, the biggest flying boat ever built. It actually flew
once just above the bay. On the Queen Mary an “artist” drew a
quick caricature of Doreen and me (pinned up on my “office” wall in
Te Puke). He reckoned that Doreen looked like Lucille Ball.
Off on our first “train leg”, a long one from Los Angeles to El Paso.
Here we were told by our hotel manager to walk to a nearby hotel
which featured the largest Tiffany lead glass dome in the world. We
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went there in the evening, and I think we ordered a shrimp cocktail
to sit down under it and admire it. Also went across the border (over
the Rio Grande bridge) to Ciudad Juarez in Mexico. What contrast!
Also, the “river” at the time was just a trickle in a small concrete
channel.
Our next “leg” we had to fly, from El Paso to Albuquerque, as there
are practically no north-south rail routes, apart from along the west
and east coasts, and we had to head west again.
In Albuquerque we picked up a rental car and took off into the
country. The documentation with the car included a clear map to get
from the rental yard to the freeway, but not, as we discovered later,
how to get from the freeway back to the rental yard. And all the offramps are signposted by number, not street or suburb. Anyway, we
found our way back.
I think it was on this trip that we visited a small art gallery en route,
late in the day and both admired a beautiful sculpture by a wellknown Indian (Native American) sculptor. It was several thousand
US $, so we travelled on. Had a meal stop and decided “So what!”
Doubled back to the art gallery, to buy the treasure. But it was not to
be, it was closed!
We managed to find out where the sculptor lived and worked, and
on the off chance went off the beaten track into the desert to visit
him.
And as “luck” (Doreen’s) would have it, he was there, and although
not open to the public, he made us most welcome. He showed us
all around his display area and workshop. Also a folder of works
sold. He was surprised to hear that we had seen one of his works
for sale in a gallery. In a roofed-over area at the back of his
workshop was a massive work still in progress. Doreen finished up
buying a small bear sculpture, which he decorated with some
feathers. All his work was in stone, I think it was alabaster. The
large crystal Doreen found near a billabong in Western Australia
when we stayed with Claude Anaru, she gave to the sculptor, telling
him where it came from.
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Our last night on this trip we spent in a motel at Santa Fe. No
booking, dark by the time we arrived in the town. Cruising along the
main drag I spotted a “Vacancy” sign, as well there was a gap in the
traffic, so I swung the wheel around, put my foot down, and “Ka
Boom!” There was an almighty noise, the car jumped into the air
and entered the entry to the motel yard. I had earlier noticed, but
clean forgotten about an almost 30cm high median strip between
the carriageways.
I thought I had ripped the sump off the car, but no, the speed of
hitting the bump had saved me, or rather the car..
Next leg by train from Albuquerque to Flagstaff. I should slip in here
the fact that on the USA rail network AMTRAK passenger trains,
when they are not running exactly on time, will have to give way to
freight trains. The result is, that once a passenger train gets behind
schedule, it gets further and further behind as it travels from coast
to coast.
The longest delay we experienced was 6 hours for a train running 1
hour behind schedule when we arrived at the station. I must
mention that this was the only “criticism” of our train travel. The
service on board was tops!
I don’t recall at which station it was, but on one of our delayed
departures the ticket attendant asked us, after we booked the next
leg of our journey on the rail pass: ”Are you going any further after
this leg?” “Yes” we said. The result was that he made all the
bookings for the rest of our rail travel, including sleeper
reservations. Apparently all passenger bookings went through a
central New York computer. We experienced not a single hitch with
this.
In Flagstaff we once again had a rental car and accommodation
booked. Worth mention here was our visit to the meteor crater
(about halfway between Flagstaff and Albuquerque) and after
visiting some historical sites a “shortcut” I decided to take on the
way home resulting in us reaching the motel late at night in the dark
(It’s a big country).
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Our next stop-over was to be Las Vegas, and instead of a transfer
from the west going train to the east going one at a station in the
middle of the desert, at an ungodly hour, we were advised to go all
the way to Los Angeles and take the train to Las Vegas (and
beyond) from there. With our rail pass it would not cost us any
extra, as well it gave us some time in L.A. to have a walk around
and explore the “birthplace of L.A.” just outside the railway station.
Our short stop-over in Las Vegas was used to the full. We were
booked into one of the casinos on “The Strip”. One day we flew to
the Grand Canyon and over the Hoover Dam. Walked along part of
the “rim” of the canyon, watched a big screen 3D film on rafting
down the canyon, and at night walked the length of “The Strip”,
visiting every casino en route, “white” tigers in one, an erupting
volcano on the forecourt of another, circus circus with continuous
acts going on and a major show in the theatre of our home base. I
don’t recall whether we slept at all??
The train station was in a more “seedy” part of the town, and we
were glad to be on board the train.
We shared our compartment with a well-dressed “elderly” negro
woman, and I think her grandson was with her. Doreen soon struck
up a conversation with her. She had been on her annual
“pilgrimage” to Las Vegas to gamble. She had been going for years,
and I think she had won a bit this time.
Once again our train “leg” was a long one, via Salt Lake City to
Denver, our next stop. Our accommodation here was a central
hotel, our room was several floors up, with floor-to-ceiling windows
overlooking the town (quite scary standing close to them). Our hotel
was across the road from the oldest hotel in Denver. I don’t recall
the name of it, I think it had something to do with a mr. Brown).
The mining company “Cyprus Minerals” has its headquarters in
Denver, and Doreen had an introduction to them.
If I recall correctly, the hospitality was not overwhelming, but we got
clearance to visit the Henderson Mine out of Denver, which at the
time was an “Environmental show case” in the USA. The mine and
processing plant were on either side of the continental divide,
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connected through a tunnel, for environmental reasons. We once
again had a rental car. We also visited “The Mint” in Denver, there
was a long queue to get in, and close to us a pair of young
backpackers we had come across earlier in our travels. (It’s a small
world)
From Denver we left for Reno by train with a stopover in
Winnemucca (Nevada). I had never heard of the place, and I
believe not many Americans know where it is. But just out of this
place in the middle of the desert is one of the richest gold mines in
the USA, “The Sleeper Mine”.
We arrived in the early morning hours, no station, but two
passengers needed dropping off. Train stops, out you go, baggage
and all, train moves off. The mine manager was there to receive us
and take us to breakfast, and afterwards we enjoyed an extensive
visit to the mine. There was top security to enter and leave the
actual mine area. The story goes that if somebody sys that he got a
bit of rock from the Sleeper Mine, he is lying. Not even a pebble of
waste rock leaves the gates ever!
The next morning we sat on the old abandoned freight platform of
what had been a railway station. It was cold. Hah, a train, -No,
freight train! Finally our train arrived, and a guard with the door open
stopped right in front of us. In we got, and off went the train (30
second stop!). Apparently the train driver and the guard are in radio
contact with one another for the pick-up!
Next stop was Reno, and another rental car, and off to Lake Tahoe.
We found a motel of sorts and had a paddle steamer evening cruise
on the lake.
The township on the lake front straddles two states, in one gambling
is legal, in the other not, so suddenly in the main street there is one
casino next to the other.
Next day we visited the old gold and silver mining district Carson
City and Virginia City. The famous “Comstock mine” area.
Back to Reno, and here our travel plans unravelled a bit. The train
to San Francisco was running 5 hours late to hit Reno. We had
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been looking forward to the Reno/San Francisco train ride,
reputedly a very scenic one. But our travel schedule unfortunately
was very tight, and the delay was unacceptable.
We were heading for my sister Truus’ on Vancouver Island for a
short stay before doubling back to San Francisco. Managed to book
a flight from Reno to San Francisco which would connect with our
S.F./Seattle flight; and Seattle to Vancouver flight. Ferry to
Vancouver Island and a stay with Truus and Jan. A visit to the
Butchard Gardens stands out. By air from Vancouver Island to San
Francisco in a small plane. USA customs in Port Angelos. Crissie at
S. Francisco airport. We stayed with Mike and Crissie, who made
us most welcome. At our request they had booked a cabin for us at
Yosemite National Park. We thoroughly enjoyed our visit to this
most impressive area! Doreen’s regret – we did not see a bear.
Roamed far and wide in S.F., through parks and museums, visited
Fisherman’s Wharf, Alcatraz, rode the Cable Car.
Also while there visited Deborah’s AFS parents, the Dannas, for an
overnight stay (Peggy and Jim) in Soquel.
There had been a severe earthquake in the area not so long ago,
and Jim showed us around Soquel, which had suffered major
damage. Peggy made us a monster American “sandwich” in her
Deli shop. Often little things like this stand out in your memory, and
this is what it is all about; my “memoirs”.
Before moving onto our next leg I must mention the “El Capitan”
rock face in Yosemite Park. It takes experienced rock climbers
several days to conquer this massive vertical face!!
Crissie dropped us off at the station for our next train trip: San
Francisco to Portland, where Vivianna, (a friend of Doreen’s from
N.Z. Nambassa Festival days) was awaiting at the station for us.
During our few days in Portland they took us by car to visit the
devastated area caused by the Mt. St. Helen’s eruption some years
earlier. What total devastation! I also picked up my “Pink Panther”
soft toy at a garage sale. My mascot for many of my subsequent
overseas travels.
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By tram to Seattle and an overnight stay. Visited the “Seattle
Needle” (with glass lift on the outside!), and walking back to our
hotel in the evening had some uncomfortable moments, as we had
to cross an “unsavoury” neighbourhood, where some shady
characters appeared to follow us!
From Seattle we travelled by a large, ocean-going ferry to
Vancouver Island. Truus at wharf, brief visit to her home, and
dropped off for ferry to Vancouver.
As the last part of this big overseas trip we had booked a bus trip
into the Canadian Rockies. Stayed overnight in an hotel with very
poor service, and early the next morning we were “in luck”: we were
the first pick-up point for the tour bus, so we had the pick of the
seats (near the front).
Just a few highlights from this trip: The tour guide/driver took us on
a little side trip, which was not on his schedule, to the headwaters of
a river, where the salmon were spawning –and dying, as it was the
time of the year for the “salmon runs”.
What a stroke of luck to have seen this in the few days we were
there.
We called in at Lake Louise’s “Chateau L.L.”, and while we were
there it started snowing! This was nothing special, but Doreen’s
eyes opened wide in wonderment, for it was the first time ever that
she had seen real snow actually falling out of the sky!!
We overnighted in Banff and visited all there was to see during the
day, and walked through the town in the evening. There were large
Elks everywhere, grazing in parks and gardens!
The next day we travelled by bus to Calgary, and from there we flew
back to Vancouver, where Alvin Jackson, the ex. Waihi Cyprus
Mine manager, waited for us at the airport. We stayed with the
Jacksons for a few days, enjoyed more sightseeing, and were finally
dropped off at Vancouver airport for our flight home via Honolulu, to
Auckland, where Helen and Mark welcomed us home at the airport.
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18/03/2007
This is getting a bit longwinded, I think. Therefore I will not go into
details about all Doreen’s and my trips over the years, but only
touch on the odd highlights.
I will also “slot in” any major “happenings” during the years to be
covered.
First of major happenings was the arrival of Anne’s and my second
grandchild, Helen’s daughter Sarah, on 11th February 1991 in
Auckland.
In September 1991 I went over to stay with Judy for a few weeks in
Sydney. She lived by now up on the North Shore across the
Harbour Bridge in Willoughby.
I think that during this visit Judy convinced me that I needed a new
wrist watch, and I bought the one I still wear at North bridge with
Judy. (Refer photo album Australia visits 1991, 1993, 1997 and
1998).
In 1992 Doreen and I made a fairly extensive trip to Australia, part
holiday and part mine visits for Doreen (30th September to 1st
November). We spent some days with Doreen’s daughter Joan and
family in Townsville. Took her husband Nigel on a boat trip to Great
Barrier Reef. By train to Mt. Isa (tour through mine); day trip into the
desert, we saw aboriginal rock drawings, picnic near and swim in a
billabong; visit to some precious stones fossicker camp. Flew to
Alice Springs. Here we met Judy, as arranged, and visited Ayers
Rock. (Judy did climb it; Doreen and I walked the perimeter).
We had booked a hot air balloon trip in Alice Springs, but unsuitable
weather caused this to be cancelled. Judy flew back to Sydney, and
Doreen and I went on to visit Ballarat and the nearby tourist
development of Sovereign Hill (old mining village and displays). A
photo of us in period costumes is now with Joan (Doreen’s
daughter). We finished our trip with a short stay at Judy’s in
Willoughby, Sydney. (Refer to photo album 1992 Australia trip).
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The next overseas trip was once again to “Oz” in 1993, from 17th
June to 12th July. Doreen and I flew to Sydney together, where I
stayed with Judy, while Doreen flew onto Townsville to spend some
time with her daughter Joan and family, coming back to Sydney on
2nd July. While with Judy I made the “milk run” trip up the
Hawkesbury River. Many properties only accessible by water!
Back together Judy took us up to the Jenolan Caves in the Blue
Mountains, where we overnighted in the hotel and visited one of the
many amazing caves.
As usual we had a busy travel plan scheduled after our leisurely
days. On to Tasmania by plane via Melbourne to Burnie. Rental car
to Rosebury, where an ex. Waihi mining staff member, Neville
Bergin, was manager of a local mine. We visited the nearby Mt.
Lyall Mine in the middle of a devastated landscape!! This was a
very old mine, and when opened had no conditions imposed on the
operation. Consequently the damage done to the environment from
toxic discharge had turned the surroundings into a “moon”
landscape. We were told that if the mine stopped operating, even
for one day, it would be closed down immediately, with little or no
chance to reopen. We did some sightseeing and visited a couple of
mining museums. In one we struck an extremely unusual display of
“decorated hardhats” (Photo in album).
We flew out of Burnie to Melbourne on the 9th July. There was a
rental waiting for us, and in that we drove to Stawell, where we
stayed with the Carltons. Richard Carlton was mine manager in
Waihi for a short while, and now manager in a similar situation in
Stawell, an underground mine in the middle of a small town. Richard
and Maree had a fairly large family, and each one of their children
played one or more instruments.
Of course we visited Richard’s mine, and on 12th July flew out of
Melbourne back to Auckland.
Despite the fact that I wrote earlier that I would not elaborate on our
travels, I am likely to go into some detail on our trip in 1994, a big
one, from the 23rd June to the 3rd September, to Europe.
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What started this one was a week-long international conference in
Paris. From memory it dealt with education/industry/community
interaction.
Somehow or other the Waihi Mining Company was willing to send
Doreen over there to participate in the conference, paying for her
travel costs, and week accommodation in Paris. This was too good
an opportunity not to extend our stay and cover parts of Europe.
Doreen was allowed some extended leave, and after studying many
options we incorporated two bus travel tours in our itinerary,
allowing for some family stop-overs. As well we broke our outgoing
flight with a 2-day stop-over in Bangkok, and on our return flight we
would stay for 4 days on Bali.
Well, here goes. Bangkok: We had booked and prepaid day tours,
as well as hotel accommodation. On the first morning, when we
were waiting in the hotel lobby, a local “guide” with an official ID
pinned to his lapel, called for us to go on tour. Car waiting outside.
Visited temples, monastery, carpet dealer, the official Government
gem trading shop, and had a good day.
The next morning, when we were again waiting in the lobby, the
pick-up time came, but there was nobody! When we finally phoned
the tour company, we were told that the bus had left some time ago,
and “-we did not collect you, because you were not there yesterday,
so we thought you had changed your plans”. Apparently yesterday’s
“guide” had nothing to do with our pre-booked tour. How he earned
his money, we don’t know; we didn’t pay him!
Anyway, they sent a taxi to the hotel, and we caught up with the bus
and joined the tour.
We also made a trip to the bridge over the river Kwai, and part of
the Burma railway, where my brother John was involved as a POW
during the construction in World War II.
Duly arrived in Paris. Apart from the conference and sightseeing
two items to put on record were:
1) On the Metro heading back to our hotel I was pickpocketed. My
wallet was taken out of my “belly pouch”. All my American dollars
and VISA card gone. Back at the hotel I immediately blocked my
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VISA card, and I had to report to the police. With my school French
and the help of a local at the police station, who spoke a bit of
English, a statement was arrived at, and signed. Back home my
travel insurance covered the American dollar loss.
All this took considerable time, and it was pretty late into the
evening. To compensate we decided to have a nice Thai dinner at a
little place near the hotel, that we had discovered on one of our
“strolls”
2) This is the second item to record. We had had dinner in this
place before, and had discovered the hot and sour Thai prawn soup
there. To our consternation the proprietor was just closing the shop
when we arrived this time. After explaining what had happened to
us he said that he would serve us if we knew what we wanted. So
we had our soup and a main dish to follow.
Our next stop was going to be a week stop-over in Holland with
brother John and partner Loekie. I was assured by VISA that a
replacement card would be ready for me at my brother’s bank in
Delft, before we would leave from there for our big bus trip around
part of Europe.
We spent a pleasant week with John and Loekie, but “of course?”
no replacement VISA card for me at John’s bank. Fortunately
Doreen had her own VISA card, and we survived on that, until I
finally collected my new card in London.
The tour we had booked on started in London, but we had decided
to join it in Denmark, at the “Ocean Ferries” terminal in Esbjerg.
I don’t recall what caused the Delft-Amsterdam train to be delayed.
As a result we only just managed to catch the Amsterdam-Esbjerg
train. We overnighted in Esbjerg, and it took some time to locate our
tour bus in the morning, but we managed. Stop-over in
Copenhagen: -Tivoli Gardens! Next day, ferry to Sweden. On the
way we passed the “international” bridge under construction
between Denmark and Sweden, which is now completed. Stop-over
in Stockholm; Visit to the specialist museum, housing an old
16th/17th century sailing boat, recovered and preserved stands out!
Then by seagoing ferry to Helsinki. Passage into port through many
islands, and tight gaps stand out in my memory. Also the “Rock
Church”.
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Early start, 1st coach out of Helsinki, to the Russian border, and first
stop-over in St. Petersburg (Leningrad). Visits to musea and
palaces. Some were restored after German looting during World
War II.
Faberge Eggs and solid golden incense burners were some of the
outstanding treasures on display at the Hermitage Museum.
Further stop-overs in Novgorod, Moscow and Minsk, where the
Russian tour “security” guide was farewelled at hotel dinner with
loads of vodka and champagne.
I should note here, that early on in the tour we had befriended an
American couple, not very old, Sue and Mike, and the four of us
became inseparable. One arrangement we made with our bus
driver, after finding out that the very drinkable Russian champagne
was dirt cheap, was to have a bottle in his drink cooler, so that on
arrival at our next destination we had a cold bottle to drink. The bus
driver, as a little side line, sold cold soft drinks, kept in the bus
cooler.
Before crossing into Poland I will just jot down a few memorable
impressions about Russia.
Landscape: Quite monotonous with a lot of swampy looking
countryside. Comfort stops: Public toilets few and far between, and
in disgusting condition. The bus stopped in isolated places for
nature calls, and “women to the left, men to the right!” There were
often mosquitoes galore, ready to feast! Roads in cities: Often more
potholes than smooth pavements. Trams: Judging by the noise
appeared to run on “square wheels”.
I should also mention here, that what made this tour so outstanding,
was absolutely due to the actions of our tour leader. She was a lady
from Estonia, now living in London. She spoke the languages of the
countries we travelled through fluently, and knew exactly “who to
bribe with what”, particularly at border crossings. Her organisation
at stop-overs and hotels was faultless and super efficient.
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When we arrived in Moscow in the early evening our bus pulled up
on the Red Square. It was totally deserted, apart from some
soldiers. One promptly came to the bus, and in Russian told the
driver, that he could not stop here. So our tour leader gave him a
piece of her mind in Russian, and the bus stayed where it was. The
soldier retreated.
She also went out of her way to organise extra side trips, which
were not on the official tour itinerary, whenever there was a “free”
evening. One of these was a visit to some of the underground rail
stations in Moscow.
Everybody was interested, so she split us in two groups of around
20 people in each, and she took one and appointed me to lead the
second one. She stressed that going from one station to the next,
we should all board quickly with the leader, to avoid the risk of
anybody being left behind and getting lost. If so she would be “in
deep shit”. We visited at least three stations, and each one was like
an art gallery or museum and different in concept. And there was
not a sign of graffiti. We didn’t lose anybody, and on our return to
the hotel she gave me a bottle of champagne as group leader,
which our “foursome” made good use of.
The Russian hotel food was not all that exciting, and in Moscow the
4 of us discovered a pizza parlour close to the hotel, where we went
for dinner.
Before leaving Russia I should mention a few of the many
entertainments included in the tour, such as The Nutcracker Ballet
in St. Petersburg and the Moscow Circus performance. I must also
not fail to record an extra, our tour leader organised in St.
Petersburg. “Anybody game for some champagne pre-dinner drinks
at the statue of Peter the Great on horseback?” she asked. Of
course we were.
On arrival she produced a “case of champs” and asked: “Does
anybody see anything outstanding on the statue?” Yes, we noticed
that the whole bronze statue was covered in patina, but the horse’s
balls were polished and shone!
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So, she told us the story. The officers’ academy was nearby, and on
graduation it was tradition to try and climb the statue and polish the
horse’s balls.
Well, on with our trip, crossing into Poland, and once again we
somehow or other got to the front of the queue! We spent two nights
in Warsaw, where we enjoyed a Chopin piano recital and a folklore
show. On to Berlin. The hotel was a hothouse, for there was no air
conditioning. In the city people used the many fountains to cool off.
We were there during a heat wave, the temperatures climbed into
the thirties.
We saw the remnants of the old Berlin Wall, and on visiting “Old
Checkpoint Charlie” at the Brandenburg gate, the, as always,
efficient Germans, in this instance the police, checked the bus
driver’s time spent behind the wheel (there is a tamperproof
recorder on each tour bus), and it was over the limit. There and then
he couldn’t move the bus. Our tour leader lady managed to organise
a substitute German driver (from where?). Our driver had to have a
24 hour rest period. But we were off to Holland the next day. So our
driver became a passenger, and at the German/Dutch border he
once again climbed behind the wheel, although he certainly did not
have a 24-hour break.
One night stop-over in Holland at Monnikendam, where we enjoyed
an Indonesian Rice-table dinner, and then on to London, where we
were to rendezvous with Doreen’s brother John at the Merchant
Navy Hotel, a good, cheap hotel in central London. John was for
many years employed as secretary of the Merchant Navy Union in
New Zealand, and as such had access to this hotel, including
family.
We spent several days with John in London, sightseeing, shopping,
evening show, and then joined our next bus tour, England, Wales,
Scotland. What a contrast to our European tour this was; the male
tour leader did the absolute minimum. At a stop-over in York the
bus parked in a small park area. “Be back here in 1 ½ hours”, he
said. He gave us no map, or name of the park. So, off everybody
went walkabout, but there were no straight streets, they were all
winding and often very narrow. We got a bit lost, but were generally
heading in the right direction, when I recognised a feature, a stone
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wall, and soon we were at the bus. So was everybody else, except
one lady. So, no way could he leave, and we waited and waited!
Eventually a taxi pulled up, and out came a very relieved lady.
What happened was, that on her walkabout she had regularly used
a video camera, and finally finding herself totally lost she had hailed
a taxi and showed the driver her camera shots. From these he
found the park, and drove her back to the bus!
We still enjoyed the tour, though. Some highlights were
Stonehenge, attending the Edinburgh Tattoo, which was a
magnificent experience, visiting a small shop/museum in Scotland
specialising in crystals, some of unbelievable size and variety,
touching on the Isle of Skye, home of Doreen’s forbears, and
walking on the St. Andrew’s Golf Course.
At the end of this tour we met up again with Doreen’s brother John
and his partner, Devon, in London, at the Merchant Navy Hotel.
From there we spent a couple of days with the Craddocks family
near Heathrow Airport. Roger Craddock was the manager of the
Waihi mine when the open pit was started, and during the lead in
“hearings” period. Carol Craddock dropped us off at the airport for
our flight to Bali, where we had a 4-day stop-over in a hotel on the
beach. We finished this tour staying 12 days with Judy in Sydney,
and finally landed back home in New Zealand on September 3rd.
The furthest thought on my mind was, that I would once again fly
half way around the world in just over one month’s time. On the 9th
October my sister Truus phoned me up to say that my brother John
had died in Holland on October 8th.
I do not remember how I managed it, but I flew out of Auckland on
October 10th on a direct flight to Amsterdam. My brother Ton and
sister Truus also flew over. Truus and her husband, Jan Bakker,
stayed in a B+B in Delft, while Ton and I stayed a Loekie’s place
(John’s partner). Loekie asked me to do the eulogy at John’s funeral
on the 13th October.
I appreciated her asking me, and had the text typed up, so that
Loekie could approve of it, or ask for alterations. She was happy
216
with what I had prepared, so I had a few “practice readings” out
loud, which went well.
However, at the chapel, when it really mattered, I had great
difficulties keeping my emotions under control, and had to stop
several times, when they got the better of me.
Ton and I sorted out John’s belongings, at Loekie’s request, and on
October 22nd I landed back in Auckland with my check-in luggage in
a deplorable condition. I had through-booked this luggage in
Amsterdam, via Heathrow-London and Los Angeles to Auckland.
In Los Angeles there was a 3-hour stop-over. There was no transit
lounge, and apparently customs wanted to inspect my two items of
luggage. I had one backpack with two pad locks, and one large
cloth bag taped up, which was full of John’s clothes.
On arrival in Auckland the latter was ripped with the clothes spilling
out. Fortunately I had bundled them up with belts around them, and
back in Waihi I found that the padlocks had been cut off my
backpack.
I reported the condition of my luggage at Auckland Airport. They
were not surprised. Los Angeles! I also wrote to the USA with
photos enclosed, but did not even receive a reply.
There would have been plenty of time for the customs in Los
Angeles to request me to attend any luggage inspection!!
The year 1994 was quite an eventful one in all. Just a little “flash
back”. Judy came visiting in January. Helen spent some weeks in
Selwyn Hospital early January. In October Judy once again came
over from OZ, and in December she visited Greece and Europe on
a quick tour.
In November Doreen’s daughter Andrea married Grant Abrook in
our garden at 61 Consols Street, and in December Doreen and I
attended the wedding of one of the Boggiss’es sons, old friends of
Doreen’s, in Hawke’s Bay.
217
And, talking of weddings, I think I skipped Doreen and I attending
Deborah’s 2nd wedding to Raymond Andrews in Auckland in 1992.
(Separated 2002 – divorced 2004).
Well, what next? Helen and Roger decided to go their separate
ways, and in 1995 Helen and the children, Mark and Sarah, moved
to Grange Road in Auckland, and from there to Poronui Street,
close to Mt Eden village.
My first wife Anne, also moved to Auckland, a town house close to
Cornwall Park.
While on house moving. Michael had left the Forestry Department,
when a lot of Government Departments were reorganised and often
decimated, and had started a contracting business. He, Marie and
family had moved to Te Puke, and over the years made several
moves, finishing up in McLaughlin’s Drive.
Michael worked extremely hard, and ran an efficient planting,
pruning and thinning contracting business, employing several
gangs. He always worked as hard, if not harder, than any of his
workers, and I am very proud of what he achieved.
05/05/2007
I’d better bring these memories to a close before long, otherwise
they will remain uncompleted. And not only that, but my children will
probably remember more of the latter years happenings than I do.
Deborah, who after graduating as a doctor had gone on to
specialise and to further her experience, left for the U.K. for several
years. I saw her off at Auckland Airport.
Her husband Raymond was going to join her there for a short
period, depending on his local work commitments, but in the end he
stayed in the U.K. with her and found some work there.
Early 1997 Deborah was back in Auckland, and on the 11th
February her first daughter Alexandra was born at the North Shore
Hospital.
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She started travelling at an early age, because later that year, on
30th August Judy tied the knot with Malcolm Echin in Goulburn, and
all the Bange family was there, including Deborah’s newborn. Sarah
was a bridesmaid.
After the wedding Doreen and I hired a car and visited the Drurys,
Bob and Maree, ex Waihi mining contacts. Bob was then involved
with the development of a large opencast gold mine as
environmental officer.
In 1998 Doreen and I once again were over in OZ, this time visiting
Doreen’s daughter Joanne’s family. They were then living on the
Atherton Tablelands, inland from Cairns.
We finally managed to do our hot air balloon trip on this trip. It was a
very enjoyable experience which we finished off with a champagne
breakfast.
The last week of our tour Doreen and I had booked in a small hotel
on the coast just north of Cairns to relax and get over Joanne’s
hectic household.
During this week Doreen went as pillion passenger on a Harley
Davidson bike ride up north to Port Douglas and the Daintree
rainforest. A heavily tattooed “bikey” turned up at the hotel, who
looked after Doreen well for the day.
Early 1999 I went over by myself to spend a few weeks with Judy
and Malcolm in Goulburn.
Later that year my sister Truus from Canada came over, and with
my brother Ton the three of us toured the South island, both west
and east coasts, and finishing up in Waihi.
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Te Puke
It was not the happiest of visits, as in late 1999 Doreen told me to
leave her, as a result of inexcusable behaviour by me. Something I
will regret to the end of my days. All my and Doreen’s family know
what happened, and probably many more people.
I voluntarily went for a full year for “one-to-one” counselling, and our
split-up resulted in my now living in Te Puke.
I would have preferred to have stayed in Waihi, but in hindsight my
move was the most sensible thing to do. And why Te Puke?
As it so happened my son Michael had a vacant property available
in Te Puke, which needed interior redecorating. So I moved there.
Doreen and her friend Cathy packed essential household bits and
pieces for me. Doreen planned to replace her fridge and washing
machine, so she gave me the existing ones.
Cathy was in the process of replacing a lot of her furniture, so she
offered me several small drawer cupboards. All in all I had sufficient
to set myself up. I bought a dining table and chairs at a second
hand shop in Te Puke. Doreen agreed to buy out my 1/5th interest in
her property over 5 years.
Michael and Maree and daughter Vanessa and her husband Jim
helped me to move in, and I spent the first year redecorating the
inside, and I also did some wall repairs to the garage on the
property, and painted it with Michael’s help.
Shortly after I moved to Te Puke, on the 17th May 2000, another
joyous event occurred. Deborah’s second daughter Helena was
born in Tauranga. But for a start it was a worrying time. I don’t know
the proper medical condition, but basically Helena had to be
urgently delivered by caesarean, as some blood poisoning condition
developed in Deborah.
I visited the hospital shortly after the birth, and this tiny little baby
was lying in an incubator with a multitude of tubes. She was rushed
by helicopter to Waikato hospital (Deborah followed by ambulance),
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and fortunately recovered very rapidly, turning into the little bundle
of mischief she now is.
Judy went through a bit of a rough patch with Malcolm around the
millennium change (so I was not on my own!). In October 2001 she
briefly visited us in New Zealand, and Christmas/New Year
2001/2002 I went over to OZ for an extended period to support
Judy, although things were slowly getting back on an even keel with
Malcolm.
I think it was during this visit that I made a “sit-on balustrade-cumdrinking glass” resting place around the terrace extension, outside
the kitchen/dining area, they had built.
Malcolm’s daughter and her husband were over from overseas as
well, part of that time.
We had a delightful couple of weeks’ holiday on the coast in a place
rented by J and M, with direct access to a small beach and bay.
The next eventful year was 2004, starting off with my 80th birthday
celebrations.
Brother Ton had finally managed to sell his shop in Tapawera, and
was over winding up his business and looking forward to join his
two sons’ families in OZ. Sister Truus came over from Canada, and
Peggy Danna and her daughter Janet were over from USA.
You may recall that the Dannas were Deborah’s AFS parents in
California in her exchange there. I had kept in touch with Peggy and
Jim over the years, urging them to come and visit us, and sometime
in 2003 Peggy wrote if it was OK to come over to New Zealand for
Christmas/new Year 2003/2004. Unfortunately her husband Jim
died some years back. She didn’t realise that the 6th January 2004
was going to be my 80th birthday. I met Peggy and daughter Janet
at the airport, took them to Helen’s place at Scott’s Landing, and the
four of us went in Helen’s car (she insisted on) to Cape Reinga and
90 mile Beach. On the way back we did the boat trip to “The Hole in
The Rock” in the Bay of Islands.
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My 80th birthday celebrations lasted several days. We had a family
dinner at Somerset Cottage in Bethlehem. Getting there was
hilarious. Garry, Deborah’s husband-to-be, had the use of his inlaws’ motor home, and all of us piled in there at Deborah’s house to
proceed to dinner, allowing all of us, except Garry, to drink!
As well we had a luncheon for my extended family and friends,
about 50 people, at Mills Reef Winery in Bethlehem.
A magnificent birthday cake awaited me there, as well the luncheon
was my children’s’ birthday present for me.
Judy and Malcolm were also over from OZ, and Judy had designed
and produced a lovely invitation card for the occasion (see photo
album).
After the luncheon all the extended family gathered at Deborah’s
place, relaxing and playing croquet on the lawn.
After the various overseas guests had left, I took brother Tony to
Helen for a week, where Tony caught his “first snapper” of his life,
fishing from Helen’s dinghy in the Mahurangi River Channel. We
also helped tidy up Helen’s septic tank sewage system. Tony and I
took the boat trip to Kawau Island and visited the Mansion there.
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Tony left for OZ early February, and the joyous start of the year
turned into sadness. Only a week after returning to his family and
telling them all about his exciting last few weeks in New Zealand,
Tony dropped dead, on 18th February 2004, while filling his vehicle
at a petrol station in Ballnarring, where he stayed with his son Ron
and family.
His beloved Toyota landcruiser (“going around the clock for the 3rd
time”) he had sent back to OZ from New Zealand earlier on to be
completely overhauled and repainted. It looked like new!
Helen and I went over to Tony’s funeral and stayed with Ron while
there.
The sons, Ron and John, asked whether I would do the eulogy, and
I agreed to cover Tony’s life, except his OZ period, which Ron
agreed to cover. I prepared some notes, and Ron and John agreed
with them.
The funeral was held at a crematorium chapel, and the place was
packed with Tony’s friends and acquaintances. As for my brother
John it was once again a very emotional experience.
But life goes on, and the year finished on a high note with Deborah
and Garry’s wedding in the garden on 2nd October 2004.
And now we are already well into 2007. Last Christmas 2006/2007
once again my sister Truus came over. The reason being, that
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finally her daughter Marianne decided to come to New Zealand for a
visit, and had asked her to accompany her.
By now Truus has seen a great deal of new Zealand, but not the
East Cape and the Far North. So I planned a couple of 3-4 days
trips with breaks in between at home base, and I also booked all
accommodation well in advance.
My kids felt that I would over extend myself with all the driving, so in
the end the East Cape trip was cancelled.
That left the “Far North” trip. Our first stop was at Helen’s at Scott’s
Landing. Next stop Kaitaia, and from there bus trip to Cape Reinga.
Next day via Bay of Islands back to Helen, and from there I dropped
Truus and Marianne off at Auckland Airport, before heading back to
Te Puke.
Although not “one of the locals” yet, by now fairly well settled here.
I would still prefer to be together with Doreen, but that is not to be.
Doreen had found herself a new partner, an old school friend, some
time after we split up, a mutual friend of Doreen’s oldest friend
Moira Carter and Doreen.
Unfortunately he had cancer and died a couple of years ago.
Doreen managed to sell her lovely large property at the bottom end
of Walker Street, and moved to a smaller one at No. 3 Walker
Street. I am still, although infrequently, in touch with her.
Here in Te Puke I joined the local bridge club some 5 years ago
after spotting an article in the local weekly paper, about the club
running a course for beginners.
It taught me the “convention” used in the club “5 card major and
weak no trump”. Although I am frequently being asked to play more
often, I only play on Thursday nights and thoroughly enjoy the
amicable club spirit on that night.
One of the older members asked whether I would be interested in
joining the local PROBUS club, meeting once a month, and
sponsored me a couple of years ago. A “spin off” small group of this
club meets once a month for a surprise luncheon, destination only
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known, when we meet on the day at 11:45am. I also needed some
exercise, and my doctor, Dr. Almond, each time I visited him, urged
me to do daily walking trips.
I did try, my longest walks were from my home to the New World
Supermarket and back home. But my left knee, which for many
years has been a weakness for me, played up more and more.
Knowing the general benefit of rowing I bought myself a “rowing
machine” and did short daily stints on this, but again my knee did
not agree with the action.
My weight, which after I stopped smoking, had gone to over 100kg,
had stabilised at around 100-104kg, which was still too much for my
liking.
So, 2 years ago I joined the local Gym (“The Fitness Factory”)
which is very well equipped. One of the staff, Brenda, checked me
in, and put a programme together for me. This is regularly reviewed,
and at present I go most weeks three times for 1 ¼ to 1 ½ hours.
So far, I have not lost much weight, but I definitely feel much fitter.
As well I have a regular 1 hour full body massage every 2 to 3
weeks.
Last week I traded my trusted 1997 Telstar Station Wagon for a
2004 Suzuki 5-door hatchback. I am slowly finding all the right
buttons and controls. It is an easy car to get in and out of, and it is
very comfortable.
So now I have come to the end of my reminiscences. Next week I
am going to visit Helen for a few days and will take the last of my
scribbles to her for typing. She has rented out her house at Scott’s
Landing, and rents a flat in Auckland.
I will conclude with a few general remarks:
Generally I have had a good life. Maybe some people will say I
lacked ambition, but making money has never been a major aim in
my personal and professional life.
I have tried to do my best, but I have not always succeeded and
made mistakes, and at times I must not have been easy to live with.
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I am proud of the two women, Anne and Doreen, I have shared part
of my life with. They are both strong, versatile personalities, who
have given me a great deal of support.
I have been blessed with 4 beautiful children and 4 delightful
grandchildren, all with their own and diverse personalities. I’d leave
it up to them to judge whether I have been a good father and/or
grandfather.
Sometimes I wonder why I am still here in my 84th year, while both
my brothers, John and Tony, died in their seventies, 74th and 76th
respectively.
It has taken over 6 years to come to the end of this tale, and I thank
my daughter Helen for having done and organised the typing of my
often unreadable scribbles.
My main reason for having jotted down some of my memoirs, has
been so my children will know a bit more about me, and I hope to
have succeeded in this.
Henk Bange
24th May 2007
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Addendum 2014
Invitation to Henk’s 90th birthday celebration lunch at Mills Reef
Winery (put together by daughter, Judy):
Dad’s 90th Birthday
5 January 2014
Mills Reef Winery, Bethlehem
Helen Harrison
“Thank you to everyone for coming along to celebrate dad’s 90th
birthday today.
I am Henk’s first born, Helen.
Apart from being the RSVP on the invites I have had very little to do
with the happening of this party. Thanks for this goes mostly to dad
who has thoroughly enjoyed planning his party and to my siblings
Deborah, Judy and Michael and their partners.
At one stage seating arrangements created bit of a flap but to my
mind it is not about where you are seated but about your
perspective.
My father at 90 finds he is sitting a lot and with this has come a lot
of frustration. As dad colourfully puts it:
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“physically you’re bloody well getting limited as to what you can do”.
The thing that has really hit my dad is losing his mobility with the
latest threat being the possibility of not having his driver’s license
renewed.
In writing this speech I have had a huge struggle with editing and
have been constantly reminded of dad with images of him sitting at
his desk surrounded by piles of papers writing in his notoriously
difficult to read hand.
Over the years dad has written a lot and one of the things that has
always been important to him is to stay in touch with family.
This Xmas my son Mark received a card from his Opa.
Mark then sent me an email with a photo of what dad had written in
the card so that I could, as he put it, “translate” dad’s writing.
The story of dad’s life is a very interesting one and a part of New
Zealand’s heritage. It is all in his memoirs completed when he was
80. I don’t think he ever thought he would live to 90! To anyone who
is interested to read dad’s memoirs and know more I can supply a
digital file.
For now I will just share that as children growing up we knew our
dad was special.
How exotic it was to share that your dad was born in Indonesia
(then the Dutch East Indies). That he was a Civil Engineer and
worked on a dam in Iraq. I don’t think any of our childhood friends
had a clue what and where we were talking about and neither did
we!
However they did understand when we proudly shared that our dad
was The Borough Engineer of Waihi.
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Being the Borough Engineer of Waihi was dad’s life work and he is
deservedly proud of all he did for the town. The poem I am about to
read was written for dad and presented by the Deputy Mayor of
Waihi, Ken Watters, when he retired in 1987.”
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As a gift from his children, Judy Echin (Bange) put together a large
collage canvas print of photographs:
and Deborah McMurtrie (Bange) organised a special cake:
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