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A Maori War Dance, North Island, New Zealand
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i hereby certify that the publisher's lists and other records disclose that the circulation of the “new zealand railways magazine” has not been lass than 24,000 copies each issue since april, 1938
Controller and Auditor-General
10/11/38.
New Zealand is fast qualifying for sole right to a new title—that of “The Garden Country.”
As we know, gardeners are not, as a class, notorious gad-abouts—although the first of the clan, the original Adam, seems to have made the first migration. But it would be a great thing if all the gardeners of the Dominion, professional and amateur alike, could make a leisurely trip through the country to see what their fellows are doing to make an earthly paradise of our rich Islands.
The average gardener enjoys his own plot of land and employs any arts and sciences he knows to make the most of it. But when he wanders, then he can compare and enjoy what others are doing, and carry new notions home for further experiment in the production of beauty in nature.
A begonia house to one gardener may be just a place for housing blooms of rich and radiant variety, with pots and beds placed in tiers to make a close array like an army glittering with banners.
But there are other methods of treatment. At New Plymouth, for instance, the gardener of Pukekura Park has seen in his begonias just a crowning glory for a green vista swinging upwards from a cool tunnel portal—a vista that outvies the loveliest conceptions of poets and painters of the Garden of Eden itself.
Look about any suburban or country settlement in New Zealand and you will be held up here and there by the charm of gardeners’ work with flowers and lawns, shrubs and trees and hedges—work that reveals the true eye for beauty and something more than the mere architectural arrangements of contour and colour in the infinity of forms with which these may be presented.
Amongst scenes such as these, an unsightly or neglected garden stands out as a sad spectacle of carelessness or ineptitude, telling that the owner or rentier is unworthy, not only of the opportunities that lie at his door, but also of association on the same plane with his more civilised neighbours.
In travels up and down the land, one cannot but be impressed by the great improvements effected during the past year or two in the general standard of home gardens. The whole picture is brighter—the country has had its face lifted. Clearly more time is being spent, and to better purpose, in the culture of gardens.
This is doubtless one of the imponderable, although very real, advantages of the 40-hour or 5-day week, an advantage which many lovers of the beautiful in nature have remarked and enjoyed. The effect of more time spent in gardening, and the resultant improvement in the appearance of home, streets and cities, is adding health to our peoples; it helps to calm the mind, to modify the pressure on blood and nerves, and adds to the opportunities of happiness and the beauty of life.
For the enlightenment of the railway staff and the general public alike, and in order that the true value of the propaganda that is being carried on through the Press and other channels in connection with the recent resignation of the elected representative of Division One, Mr. J. S. Roscoe, from the Railways Appeal Board may be fairly judged, I reproduce, on page 8, copies that have come into my hands of letters sent by Mr. Roscoe to the Executive Committee and all Branch Secretaries of the Railway Officers Institute. As an example of the methods employed—methods that to all fair-minded people surely carry their own condemnation—I would draw pointed attention to Mr. Roscoe's postscript to his letter of the 25th March—a postscript that was obviously not included in the copy of the letter he sent to the Executive Committee.
The reasons given in Mr. Roscoe's letter of the 31st March for his resignation from the Appeal Board will not stand the test of intelligent examination.
He states: “My recent experience of appeal cases convinces me that no appellants have a chance of winning an appeal before the new Board is appointed,” but apparently he overlooked the fact that in the cases he has adjudicated upon he has supported 88 per cent. of the decisions of the Board. Mr. Roscoe also overlooks the very serious reflection his statement casts on the integrity of the present members of the Appeal Board, particularly the Chairman, who is a Magistrate. In this connection it should be noted that the Board regulates its own procedure, and is required to hear and determine appeals according to equity and good conscience on the evidence adduced before it. Mr. Roscoe's statement is also extraordinary in view of his published declaration: “My personal relations with my colleagues on the Appeal Board are the happiest possible.”
Mr. Roscoe's further statement that: “Senior Officers of the Department are coached in the evidence they are to give,” considered in the light of his general statement, leaves only one implication—that Senior Officers are not true to the oath they take that they will speak “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” This is again a serious reflection on the integrity of our Senior Officers and is, I know, absolutely without foundation. I would expect all witnesses either for the Department or the appellant to be completely impartial, and to speak the truth in accordance with their solemn oath. Any officer who failed to so act would not only embarrass the Department, but he would not be a proper person to have in a position of control. From my long association with, and knowledge of, proceedings of the Appeal Board I can say definitely that every endeavour is made to present the case for the Department with the utmost fairness, and I am satisfied that anything to the contrary exists only in Mr. Roscoe's imagination.
According to Mr. Roscoe's estimate, neither the Chairman of the Appeal Board nor the Departmental representative is to be trusted, and he also implies that the Senior Officers of the Department are of doubtful integrity.
Mr. Roscoe speaks of the loss of “the right of appeal against non-recommendation.” As he should well know, there has been no right of appeal against non-recommendation at any time since he accepted appointment to the Appeal Board; and, of course, the position in this respect is still the same, and is in accordance with the legislation which has been in existence for many years.
Mr. Roscoe alleges that accelerated promotion in special positions gives “all the plums of the Service to favoured few.” I say definitely that there is no favouritism in the Service, all appointments being made strictly in accordance with the terms and provisions of the Government Railways Act.
One would have expected that in charging the Department with maladministration, Mr. Roscoe would have quoted some instances had there been any; but not once, either in his communications with the Press or in his propaganda amongst officers and members of the Officers’ Institute, is a single instance of maladministration quoted.
Another error of Mr. Roscoe's is in stating that “the right of appeal in relation to dismissal for alleged drunkenness and alleged peculation is denied by the Department.” In reply to this I say there are no dismissals in the Department for either “alleged drunkenness” or “alleged peculation.” The real position is that when drunkenness or peculation are admitted or proved and dismissal follows, then—in accordance with the terms of the Act—“in no case shall any person who has been dismissed for peculation or drunkenness be again appointed on the permanent staff of the Department.”
The course I am pursuing in this Message is somewhat unusual, but the circumstances necessitating it are exceptional, and I am constrained to deal with the matter also for another reason. I find that besides the misleading propaganda distributed by Mr. Roscoe through the channels mentioned, he has received the support of the official organ of the Communist Party of New Zealand, the “Workers’ Weekly.” which, in an article on the 24th March, applauds him and his action, and follows up these laudatory comments with remarks very similar to those contained in the propaganda issued by Mr. Roscoe himself to the Branch Secretaries of the Railway Officers’ Institute.
These latest developments convince me that Mr. Roscoe's real objective is not concerned with the best interests either of the majority of railway officers or of the public. It is therefore my obvious public duty to make known what is going on, in order that influences which might do harm to an important Department of State may be counteracted.
General Manager.
Copy.
N.Z.R.O.I., North Canterbury Branch.
Christchurch, 25/3/39.
To the Executive Committee and all Branch Secretaries.
Special General Meeting
–North Canterbury Branch Held 23/3/39.
Dear Sir,
The largest General Meeting of the R.O.I. members ever held in Christchurch gathered to hear J. S. Roscoe's reasons for his action in resigning from the Appeal Board.
At the conclusion of the meeting the following resolutions were carried unanimously:–
(1) That Mr. J. S. Roscoe's action in resigning his position of Division I representative on the Appeal Board at this juncture is approved.
(2) That this branch has full confidence in Mr. Roscoe as Division 1 representative and calls upon him to accept nomination for re-election.
(3) Further, that this Branch Meeting directs that the Executive Committee be requested to make immediate representation to the Minister for Railways for the appointment of an expert Committee vested with the powers of a Royal Commission to inquire into all alleged causes of dissatisfaction with the present staff control and administration–the Committee, after investigation, to report to the Government with a view to amending the Government Railways Act.
The meeting directed that these resolutions be forwarded to Executive Committee and to all Branches and to Press Association.
The suggested composition of the Committee of Investigation was:–
X (a) One or two representatives of Division 1 staff.
X (b) One or two persons with a personal knowledge of railway management problems or wide staff work experience but who are not now associated with the management.
X (c) One prominent public personality with training in business management and economic science, e.g., Mr. G. Lawn, Director and Economist of the Reserve Bank.
As directed by the meeting the above is forwarded for your information and the taking of suitable action.
Fraternally yours,
J. S. Roscoe,
Branch Secretary.
P.S.–Don't let Executive Committee get away with the proposal for a conference with the Management that will produce little more than our annual conference representations.–Please do your best to get a paraphrase of X put through a General Meeting.–We must make the most of the present position.
Best wishes.
Stan R.
Copy.
55 Conway Street,
Christchurch, 31/3/1939.
Dear Sir,
Our General Secretary informs me that what appear to be contradictions between my notice of resignation from the Appeal Board and my address to the North Canterbury Branch members has caused him some difficulty in explaining to Branches which have written to me as to what are the actual matters which brought about my resignation.
I am very sorry indeed that such should be the case. The apparent contradiction if any arises from the fact that only the opening remarks of my speech were reported, together with the resolutions passed by the meeting. The parts of my speech which have caused the misunderstanding seem to be–I do not think that our Administrative Officers are solely to blame–the matter lies deeper than mere administration–the source of most of our troubles to-day is in the 1927 and 1928 amendments to the Railways Act.
You will note that the press report of my speech concludes with–Mr. Roscoe then discussed the reasons given in his notice of resignation from the Appeal Board. This part of my address was kept out of the press to conform with the concluding paragraph of the Executive Committee's statement of March 21st.
To clear up the misunderstanding, I summarise below very briefly the reasons given to our Branch meeting–
The term of the appointed members of the Appeal Board finishes in May next. My recent experience of appeal cases convinces me that no appellants have a chance of winning an appeal before the new Board is appointed. My action prevents the hearing of any appeals before a new Board is appointed. Senior officers of the Department are coached in the evidence they are to give. They should be able to tell the truth without coaching. One of the most serious handicaps that members have to contend with is the loss of the right of appeal against non-recommendation. This right was taken away by the 1927 amendments to the Act. These amendments also provide that a member winning an appeal must take the position of the member against whose appointment he appealed. This frequently reacts in a manner disadvantageous to appellants since the Board is loth to displace a good man. The questions of accelerated promotion in special positions giving all the plums of the Service to favoured few is one of the most burning problems of the day and can be rectified only by amendment of the Act. The hard and fast rule in relation to examination barrier is not in accord with modern educational practice. The law in this case prevents very good men from exercising the right of appeal in relation to promotions from grade 7 to 6. The right of appeal in relation to dismissal for alleged drunkenness–whether on or off the job–and alleged peculation is denied by the Department which is supported by the Solicitor-General. The right of appeal by officers in relation to the grading of positions is challenged by the Department notwithstanding that they have actually occupied or do occupy the positions. The present system of regrading is altogether too cumbersome and productive of delay. This must be altered probably by establishing a tribunal which will hear evidence of altered value of positions annually. This requires amendment of the Act. Advertising of consequential vacancies destroys any value there might be in the advertising of vacancies, and must be remedied. Delays in the settlement of grievances such as the non-enforcement of the forty-hour week, the shortage of staff, overdue annual leave, the unsympathetic attitude of the Management in relation to adequate facilities for the training of cadets and penalising these young members for failing to qualify for Morse in their own time.
The above are matters which I amplified in my address to our members as bases contributing to the general state of dissatisfaction which permeates the Service, many of which are beyond the scope of conference between the interested parties, and require for their adjustment an expert committee empowered to take such evidence as it considers might be valuable and make recommendations to rectify such matters.
Trusting that the above will remove any misunderstanding that has arisen from the published report of part of my Christchurch speech.
Fraternally yours,
J. S. Roscoe.
“Above me are the Alps,
The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls
Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps …”
Byron.
The terminal face of the Tasman Glacier, near the Hermitage, Mt. Cook. The Tasman Glacier is the greatest outside the Himalayan and Polar regions, being eighteen miles long by one to three miles wide.
(Thelma R. Kent, photo.)
Two hundred and forty years ago rare Ben Johnson said that tobacco was “the most sovereign and precious weed that ever the earth tendered to the use of man.”
He knew nothing of New Zealand when he wrote; it lay under the Southern sun, a land of birds and virgin forests, of lithe and active Polynesian warriors; half a century was to pass before old Abel Tasman found a place for it on the map of the world. I would like to bring Ben Johnson back here and show him the great industrial palaces in which New Zealanders make their own smokes. He would have found in this new land Lilly's “Holy Herb, nicotian,” being transformed into the many exciting and attractive forms demanded by modern smokers. He would have found these miracles being wrought in vast temples of industry, housing populations equal to those of a substantial English village of his time.
Cigarettes and all kinds of smoking tobaccos are made in an atmosphere of smiles in New Zealand, and in the establishments I visited there seemed to be ample evidence that the happiness-giving qualities of tobacco permeate the places where it is fashioned for our use. The variety and the vagaries of taste in tobacco provide this industry with a complete set of distinctive cross-word puzzles. However, our own organisations have solved these problems; it is difficult to find the cigarette epicure who cannot have his nicety of discrimination flattered by the “little tube of mighty power” made in New Zealand by New Zealanders. This goes, too, for the pipe smoker; however hard to please or however discriminating he is, there will be something exactly to his taste in the wide range of New Zealand made tobaccos.
It is a strange fact of history that tobacco was unknown in Europe before the middle of the sixteenth century. No armoured knight ever had trouble with his vizor to get a whiff between battles; neither Henry VIII nor Cardinal Wolsey knew “the indefinable link between smoking and philosophy.”
We know that the first plant was brought to Europe in 1558 by a Spanish physician, and that the practice of smoking was quite general in England before the end of the century. It is queer, too, that such lusty strangers to rest as Raleigh, Hawkins, and Drake, should be variously credited with the merit of introducing into England “sedative, gently-soothing, gently clarifying tobacco smoke.”
Within a hundred years, the habit had spread all over the world, and there was a proverb in far-away Persia saying that “Coffee without tobacco is like meat without salt.”
It was natural when our first settlers came to this country that they brought with them the solace of tobacco.
However, this was intended to be an article about New Zealand industries, not an historical essay. I and my friend of the camera made a pilgrimage to the great mansion of glass and concrete that houses the tobacco manufacturing plant of W. D. and H. O. Wills in the Hutt Valley. The company is the first to manufacture cigarettes in New Zealand, and started in a modest way in the city of Wellington. Some ten years ago the manufacturing side of the business was transferred to a fine modern factory at Petone, and it was not long before a further story was added to the building, resulting in the imposing home shown in our picture. We had a romantic day from the moment we sighted the capstan in white and blue that stands on a corner of the lawn, and was presented by a marine-minded admirer. This is the real thing standing there as a symbol of the world-famous.
The factory buildings stand in spacious grounds totalling five and a half acres. In the front there is an eighteen hole putting green, well manned at lunch hour. There are sweeping green lawns and many playing fields for various sports. There is even a plant nursery, necessary to maintain a set of gardens which are on the scale of those of a public park.
The first thing we noticed on breasting the main stairway was the distinctive, attractive, all-pervading fragrance. It was faint but persistent, and gave point to the early European belief in the “Holy Healing Herb,” for one felt the effect to be like that of a purifying incense.
One of the features of the whole W. D. and H. O. Wills’ factory is the extraordinary cleanliness. The floors, benches, walls and all the machinery in this temple of Three Castles and Capstan are completely immaculate.
Our starting place was where the tobacco leaf arrives from the stores where it has been maturing since it was purchased from the growers. As the great cases are opened, they show serried, closely packed masses of dried leaves. The first process is the conditioning, and we saw the leaves carried by slowly revolving drums to vanish into the chambers where the changing is to take place. The leaves in their cases, however, made an interesting study. Here I began to appreciate the vast range in types and quality of the tobacco leaf. The colour was in general a lemony gold with various tones of brown. There seemed to be remarkable consistency in the size and length of these leaves that had travelled all the way from the “Ole Plantation.” I understand that the “body” improves as the leaves grow nearer the top of the plant.
The conditioning processes are many and various, and there is no space in this article to describe them.
The whole attention of the Capstan folk, however, is focused on the leaves. The manager lifted some of them, lovingly, to show their length and shape, and the evenness of their curing.
Still, they would flake and disintegrate in their rather brittle state so they are transformed by these scientifically calculated conditioning processes. It is a magical change. It should be explained that the leaf is kept in a dry condition for the purpose of storing and maturing, but it must obviously be softened before the machines can handle it. This is known as conditioning after which the leaf becomes almost of the texture of silk, soft, pliable, and easy to handle.
The next job is to take out the stems which is accomplished by a complex machine of uncanny ingenuity. Then once more the countless rivers of sweet smelling herbs leave on their journey for more processing. I was intrigued in one room to hear a low-voiced community chorus being hummed as the girls worked happily.
The cutting comes next. This is effected by instruments of great precision, one of which, a rotary cutter, resembles an aeroplane engine. It sharpens its own blades as it spins with tremendous velocity. Under the exact shears of these razor-edged blades, the tobacco seems to foam out into the receptacles. There is an everlasting fascination in looking at these rich masses of fine cut tobacco, like soft tresses of golden hair. When held up in the hand it looked like a molten fall arrested in mid-air. The strands of the tobacco itself are surprisingly long and in spite of their fineness, have quite a noticeable strength.
There is no dust whatever. Enormous dust extractors everywhere, deal effectually with this problem.
Of course, such a house as W. D. and H. O. Wills have a number of secret processes, the result of years of research and experience.
The cigarette making machine gave us a complete surprise. These mechanical marvels seem to have their own intelligence. What was entirely new to me was that Capstan cigarettes, for instance, are turned out in a long endless snake which is subsequently neatly divided into cigarette lengths. Still more perplexing was the cork tip application which is the acme of scientific mechanical wizardry. No hand touches the cigarette in the gumming, filling or cork tipping processes, and cigarettes pour out of these machines at an incredible speed. Then there is another apparatus, almost human, which tests every cigarette for size, weight, and length.
While we were watching here and waiting to take a picture of the machine, we noticed the staff sports mistress making her pleasant way round, arranging the pleasure programme for lunch hour.
The packing rooms are a study by themselves. Packing tobacco and cigarettes into the tins with which we are so familiar or into the packets which we so carelessly throw away, is a complicated combination of manual dexterity and mechanical contrivance. The packets themselves up to the large cartons, the varied shapes and sizes of tins, and all the rest of the container ranks of whatever type, are all made in New Zealand. The tobacco industry is therefore a definite “Feeder” for it indirectly keeps a host of our fellow-countrymen and women at work in industries supplying its varied requirements.
Well, our next item was the lunch adjournment. This was worth the journey alone. W. D. and H. O. Wills have just cause for pride in their staff management. There are six hundred people in this great place. All girls are under the supervision of a matron and are engaged by her. There is a sports mistress, and it was a heart warming sight to see this small “townful” of workers enjoying their mid-day break. Men were kicking a football, and there was a first class attendance round a dart board. On the roof there are several deck tennis courts, and I saw foursome between four men which was of the “Niagara” standard
The lunch rooms are well appointed and tastefully furnished. Tea and milk are provided free and the cafeteria provides food at actual cost.
I believe it to be nothing but the sober truth that in this Capstan edifice work is a pleasure. I had in my brief visit more than a dozen proofs that the Wills’ staff is a happy fellowship. Many of the men have been with the firm since it opened, and the thinning of the feminine ranks is almost solely done by Dan Cupid.
I liked, too, the idea of the different coloured caps worn by the girls in the different departments. They are smart and gay little affairs, quite un-factory-like, and the uniforms have a trimness which is in keeping with the whole spic and span air which is observable everywhere in the well-lit halls of this fine building.
I should say that making Capstans and Three Castles is a fine way of putting in the day. I meant to tell all about Capstan Navy Cut tobacco and the savoury appearance of the great squares of pressed tobacco being assembled and then sliced. Then I watched the tins being filled, another exercise in necromancy.
We finished the day with an inspection of the enormous stores. Mountains of cases are assembled here for direct shipment to every sizeable place in New Zealand. I noticed with interest two big instalments marked Invercargill and Whangarei, respectively. Three Castles and Capstans were going North and South.
(Continued on page 49.)
The high canoe chant of the canoe captains rang like war cries along the Wanganui in the misty morning of a July day in 1849, when Donald Maclean and Richard Taylor began this visitation cruise. “A fine grey dusky morning,” Mr. Maclean wrote in his diary, “packed, washed and started up the river at a quarter to eight. The banks on each side presented a grand picture of high cliffs, overhung with vegetation from dark brown to verdant green to the highest trees; and from the highest trees to the smallest shrubs, with overhanging plants on the most desirable exposures for their growth. In the foreground, at some of the bends, the sun pierced through the mist, and reflected on our splashing paddles, as each canoe in front pressed up against the force of the fresh, our own natives eagerly singing their shrill canoe songs, and happy with the prospect of arriving in good time at Hikurangi, a populous pa on the river. A little racing between the canoes enlivened them; and the females distinguished by their mild voices, even in the thick mist, where their bodies were concealed, gave the scene a romantic charm that is peculiar to New Zeland. The simplicity of the natives, and their kind attention and courteous treatment of travellers makes such journeys as this most agreeable.”
The Rev. Richard Taylor and his friend, the Government Agent and Land Purchase Commissioner, Donald Maclean, frequently joined forces in Wanganui River expeditions. On this occasion they were bound to a far-up tribe in a remote and wild country seldom visited. Maclean's Ms. notes tell the story: Some pigeon and other game were killed by the chief Kawana's son, who was in Kingi Hori's canoe, where the Union Jack was erected, and the greenstone mere, the emblem of chieftainship, was conspicuously placed in the chief's belt; that the pakehas might see that while he respected the Queen's emblem of sovereignty (the flag) by having it in his canoe, he did not neglect those of his own nation.
The first night was spent at the pretty kainga of Hikurangi. There more Maoris joined them for a great church assembly or hui which was to greet the missionary away up the Manganui-a-te-Ao, which Mr. Maclean wished to see.
“Leaving in the morning, we were much amused by the chattering set up by the ladies who were not accompanying their husbands to the hui. They collected on the bank below their pa, just above our canoe. Some of the men were apparently indifferent to what passed among the fair sex; but they were not insensible of the treasures they were leaving behind them, however much they might appear to neglect them when in their presence. Ladies, however agreeable their company in other parts of the world, are not permitted to join us in our canoe. The women, determined as usual, to have the ascendancy, had taken a canoe of their own, poled and paddled by themselves, a few old grey-headed men, and a tribe of young boys, who are always ready for any extraordinary service or exploit that may chance to cast up. A party of these young chiefs are squatted on the house-tops to watch our movements, as we sweep up against the stream.
“A few miles brought us to Pukehika, the termination of Hori Kingi's boundary on this river. Next we called at the beautiful pa situated on the opposite side, called Pa-te-Arero. This
(Rly. Publicity photo.) Fern-trees Cliff on the Upper Wanganui.
pas of the rebel chiefs up this river. A fine clay-walled church of large dimensions is being erected; which indicated a disposition for peace on the part of this tribe. If New Zealand had a few more zealous Missionaries like Mr. Taylor, we should have fewer wars. But this most populous district seems to have been wholly abandoned to one labourer; whereas it would require four to render their services efficient. One of these should be situated among the scattered tribes of Tuhua and the Manganui-a-te-Ao; where the natives are becoming unsettled.
“We reached Pipiriki at 2 p.m., after a pleasant pull, the weather proving more favourable than we had expected since we left the mouth of the Wanganui.
“What a cheerful, happy race the
“An elderly native told me that rewha-rewha, that raging disease so destructive to the New Zealanders, prevailed when he was about five years old. He remembers the numbers that used to be buried indiscriminately in one hole; when the disease ravaged this populous part of New Zealand. This circumstance brings the date of the disease to a late period, later than I had officially noticed, by some ten years.
“We rest, to-night, at a house built for the Rev. Richard Taylor; which is comfortable and convenient, enabling us to enjoy our reading and writing, with the aid of a table; which cannot be found in tent-travelling, or, as yet, at the native villages.
“Thursday, 14th July, 1849.—A fine morning. Refreshed by sleep, but rather disturbed by dreams and premonitions during the night. How far they may be considered of any import, or not, I have not yet decided as fully as I should wish.
“Last night I got a knock on the forehead, above the left eye-brow, against the centre-pole that supported the house, having come to the kitchen to look for some firewood. It drew some blood, and this was observed by the natives in the morning. They seemed anxious about the consequences of this slight scar; and asked me if they would knock down the post, house, and all, as utu for the injury I sustained; or if, in accordance with their custom, I should claim the land; or if they should cleave posts and dig some land to designate where this accident befel me. All our canoe boys said this morning, ‘Let us have some utu for your injury; or let us show that it requires some notice.’ This is a custom among the natives, to claim the land where an accident befalls any of their chiefs, especially if blood is drawn on the spot.
“We had a strong pull up the river; and about two o'clock in the afternoon entered the branch called the Manganui-a-te-Ao, where the rapids are very numerous and difficult to ascend. Our natives fought the rapids admirably; and as evening was setting in, we got to Te Arero, a fort on a high hill. The numerous canoes on the river, the white foam on the rapids; the industrious groups of men, women, and children, with dogs, pigs, and cats made up the motley crowd that were passing to Pehi's meeting; discussing religion, feasting, politics, land; and for all a little change and excitement.
“About 100 canoes are hauled up at this place. The owners are scattered in happy groups, like so many gipsies, around the pa. The landing of the canoes, the passing of natives in the shallows of the river, with their long poles over their shoulders, and happy greetings, though shivering at the time with cold, was a picture of great interest to us, who viewed them to great advantage in the deep glen where we were camped.
“We slept at Te Arero, where Pehi's lands commence, and where he is considered to be a large claimant of a country in which he is not likely to be disturbed during the present generation.
“Next day (Friday, 15th July, 1849), it rained very heavily. We started at 9 a.m. for Otaki, on the Manganui-a-te-Ao, where the hui is assembled; and crossed a most hilly, dangerous, slippery road, up hill and down dale. The mist was hanging thickly over the cliffs, leaving a beautiful mountain scene to burst unappreciated on the eye, as we scrambled over cliffs that looked so precipitous that you seemed about to fall head-long into a horrid abyss. We arrived at Otaki about 2 p.m. after travelling a distance of six or seven miles from Te Arero.
“The encampments of Otaki were most picturesque. Tents of blankets,
(Rly. Publicity photo.) On the upper reaches of the Wanganui.
toetoe huts, spread themselves on various embankments around the pa, which is surrounded, except at the entrance, by high rocks. The rain continued to pour, but there was no diminution in the busyness and chatter of the natives, who were running about for shelter, and erecting houses in all directions.
“It is quite a politic act for an Agent of Government to be present at such meetings, to hear what is discussed among the Maoris, and to correct the erroneous impressions that gain ground amongst them respecting the proceedings and intentions of the Government. Such feasts or assemblies as these, under the direction of old and influential chiefs, are productive of great good; as they engross the native mind with the subject, and prevent worse feelings from gaining ground. They are naturally a people fond of change and excitement, and something to occupy the mind should be encouraged.
“Saturday, 16th July.—The display of food provided by the natives for this meeting is very grand. There are 1,200 kits of kumara, large baskets of taro, papa or bark cases of birds cooked and preserved, including tui, kaka, kiwi, and there are also eels. The birds are boiled in their own fat, and covered over with it; they will keep thus for three years. Pigeon, weka, duck, and whio (blue mountain duck) are also included in the papa, which are decorated with the feathers of the birds they hold. They look very well. Pigs and potatoes are abundant. In apportioning
“This country is the most broken and unavailable that can be met with. It is a perfect jungle thrown up in such confusion, as if man's occupation of it was never intended, at least civilized man's, whose superior ability for subduing a country to his use would be fruitless in a place like this. All the eye surveys is horrid steeps and cliffs, with slippery hills and braes. Climbing over precipices, while holding on by the roots of trees, some of these decayed, is not an agreeable occupation, with heavy winter rains, when every false step you take may send you to eternity.
“Glencoe is considered to be a wild part of the Highlands of Scotland; but the scenery is much wilder here than there. Within the last two hours, from eight to ten at night, we have had seven avalanches (or land slips) on the opposite side of the river. Instantaneous and awful are the operations of nature, and how obvious they are in a mountainous country. I fear these avalanches endanger the navigation of our river; for to-morrow, if we are spared, our own position, should such movements become more general, does not appear altogether safe; as we are situated on a high overhanging rock, well-placed for defence in time of war; but how insignificant does such a natural defence prove, when under the operation of mysterious workings. Thousands of people in New Zealand have fallen victims to sudden avalanches. Five hundred people were sunk in one night on an island on the coast.
“Next day again (June 19th) was wet and stormy, with strong freshet on the river. It is quite tempting Providence to start in such weather. I feel that I should have remained at Otaki till to-day to have done more good for the Government.”
Maclean noted this with a shiver no doubt. But the party all set out to run the rapids, and they reached the Wanganui safely, and had a comfortable passage for the rest of the voyage. For the journey Maclean, through the Missionary, paid £110/-, also eleven shirts and some tobacco to the crew.
“It is satisfactory,” he wrote, “to have completed a journey, and seen so many natives at a season of the year when such journeys cannot be undertaken without great trouble. The Manganui-o-te-Ao is a dangerous river, and we had a narrow escape in coming down its rapid streams and torrents, overflowing with a heavy freshet; and so steep on both sides, that a person could neither climb up, or save himself in any way from drowning, or perishing in the frozen streams, on which the sun seldom reflects at this season of the year. We, however, got through in safety; but I shall be more cautious in future how I come along such dangerous places.”
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That was one of many canoe voyages up the great Wanganui made by Mr. Maclean, in his capacity as Government Agent, often as peacemaker. Of a cruise up to Pukehika in August, 1850, he wrote:—
“At 10 a.m. we left the town in a canoe manned by fifteen good stout natives, to go up the river. Te Rauparaha's son, Tamihana, accompanied us, on his first visit up the river. He seemed greatly delighted with the liberal arrangements and large reserves made for the Whanganui natives; also with the idea that we now sold back land to the natives at a moderate price. It rained very much, but the natives are of such amphibious habits, that they paddled up in a most happy and cheering strain, all the way to Parikino; where Mr. Park (the surveyor) and myself, after dining, are comfortably quartered.
“We slept at Hikurangi, a nice karaka
(Govt. Publicity photo.) Retarake, Upper Wanganui River.
“The scene presented here resembles the Holy Fair. People from all places are flocked together, in their fanciful dresses. It is hard to guess how much the simple New Zealanders are animated by Christian zeal, in attending these meetings; but it is certain that in a political view, if an Agent of Government is present, that they are attended with great good; as the native feeling is so easily ascertained; and explanations rendered, of the intentions of Government, so frequently misapprehended by an extremely jealous race. There are several hundred persons of all ranks and ages, assembled here, intent on their religious duties, probably as much as an equal number of our own country people here; and certainly quite as intent as they would be in devouring the food prepared for them, and enjoying the gossip and scandal of the women and idlers of the party.”
This sage young officer of the Government made comment in his notes that when the natives of the wild, broken interior country of the Wanganui could afford to feed 1,400 people for three days together, and have tons of food to spare afterwards, “how well might our British country-people manage to live, even in the wildest parts of New Zealand, and be much better off than in their present starved condition in the Old Land.”
The “square deal” campaign of the Home Railways, now beginning to bear fruit, continues to impress upon one and all the justice of the railway claims. The latest development takes the form of a “Fighting for Freedom” exhibition, staged at Waterloo Station, London. This exhibition is housed in a special structure on the station concourse. Fronted by a realistic painting of a goods train, the building covers an area of 900 square feet. On entering, attention is directed to a large photograph of Waterloo concourse, upon which are superimposed photographs of the “square deal” posters, Press announcements, and booklets recently issued. Next, wall displays catch the eye. One display features photographs of the four general managers, with brief details of their careers. Another traces the history of railways since pioneering days, and it is demonstrated how statutory regulations hinder not only the railways but also railway users. The fact is driven home that the railways are the biggest purchasers in the country, and that their buying brings benefit to workers in almost every industry. A very attractive series of photographs illustrates a day in the life of a railwayman, and there is a display covering the handling of holiday traffic. “Railways in Wartime” is a telling feature, serving as a timely reminder of the vital importance of the “Iron Way” in times of peril. Last, but not least, is an ominous picture of the bankruptcy court, by way of suggesting what will happen to the railways if they are denied the “square deal” they so justly deserve. Altogether, we have here a most impressive and praiseworthy effort.
New agreement, reached between the railways and the road carriers, promises well for both interests. The agreement is principally concerned with conveyance rates, and provides for the setting up of a joint central consultative committee of rail and road, to consider all matters common to the two industries, and to expedite rates agreements.
In addition to the central committee, there are to be area committees, and probably local committees, and certain route committees for long-distance transport, all of whom will tackle broadmindedly the problem of rates agreements applicable to both sides. These measures are of a voluntary nature, and as statutory enforcement is necessary to make any agreement of this kind a success, government approval is being sought through a Parliamentary Bill. If approved, this Bill will give the railways a substantial measure of freedom, and a new tribunal, covering both rail and road, will be established to replace the existing Railway Rates Tribunal. Its duties will be to review agreements as and when made, and also to hear objections from trade associations, traders and carriers, who feel aggrieved at any projected rate. It will also be
Steady progress is being made with the ambitious scheme of the L. & N.E. Railway and London Passenger Transport Board, for railway electrification in the north-east London area. Electric traction is being instituted by the L. & N.E. Company on four tracks between Liverpool Street terminus and Gidea Park, a distance of 14 miles; on two tracks between Gidea Park and Shenfield, a distance of 6 ½ miles; and from Fenchurch Street to Bow Junction (3 ¼ miles), from whence trains will run to Stratford over a single track now being constructed. The complementary scheme of the L.P.T.B. will relieve the L. & N.E.R. of the Fairlop loop and Loughton Branch traffic. The Central London
From Switzerland comes the news that the Federal Railways have just acquired what is claimed to be the world's most powerful electric locomotive. This is a giant machine developing 12,000 h.p., and of the 2-4-2-4-2 + 2-4-2-4-2 wheel arrangement. Intended for service on the St. Gothard route, the locomotive is of articulated design, and at a speed of 46 m.p.h. the tractive effort is said to be 88,000lb. To secure a high tractive effort at starting, the adhesive weight of all the driving axles is increased to 172 tons, by an apparatus operated by compressed air, and reducing the weight on the central carrying axle. Weighing in working order about 244 tons, the new Swiss giant hauls 600-ton express passenger trains up gradients of 1 in 39 at 40 m.p.h.; and 75-ton freight trains at 31 m.p.h. In the neighbouring country of Italy, completion of the Milan-Bologna and Florence-Rome electrifications has enabled through travel by electric train to be undertaken from one end of the land to the other, a distance of slightly more than 900 miles. There are now about 2,430 miles of electric railway in Italy, and the development of hydro-electrical power resources is going ahead at a rapid rate. The fastest electric service is that between Milan and Bologna (72 m.p.h.). Other noteworthy runs by electric train are those from Milan to Rome (395 miles at an average speed of 66 m.p.h.), and Turin
In view of the increasing utilisation of electric traction in many lands, it is interesting to note the divergence of views existing on the subject of the possible vulnerability of electric railways in time of war. It has always been understood that one important reason why electric traction has been turned down on the Northern Railway of France was because it was felt steam operation was much less liable to interruption in time of war than electric traction. Looking round, however, we find Germany and Italy going ahead with electrification on a big scale, and this would certainly point to these countries being satisfied with electric traction under all conditions. The secret appears to lie in the fact that modern practice is to inter-link power stations (which, incidentally, being usually situated in mountainous areas present difficult targets for hostile aircraft) so that, should one station be put out of action temporarily, a supply can quickly, be secured from elsewhere. Actually steam locomotives, with their issuing smoke and steam by day, and the glare from the firebox by night, would appear to offer a good target and guide for aircraft. One recalls our own experience on light railways in the Great War, when solely because of this fact, we had to replace steam engines by petrol tractors on the forward lines.
In the year 1862, the steamer Lord Worsley, carrying arms and ammunition and four chests of gold, rounded Cape Egmont, and drove in upon that iron-ribbed reef which guards the mouth of the Otahi Stream just south of Opunake Bay.
That was in the troubled days of the Taranaki wars, and the Maoris from the nearby fortified villages came swarming jubilantly down to the cliffs. Under their very eyes, the captain gave orders that the guns should be thrown into the sea, and the casks of powder stove in and rolled overboard, and, while the seas battered the breaking vessel, the crew stoically obeyed.
Boats were lowered, the men rowed in to the beach. The impotently enraged Maoris awaited them, and there would speedily have been an end to the ship's company of the Lord Worsley if it had not been for the intervention of Wiremu Kingii, who took the part of the white seamen. Kingii and his followers—among whom was Te Whiti, who was years later to make Taranaki history—dug themselves in upon a cliff-top, and a sniping battle ensued, and lasted the better part of the day.
Under cover of the excitement, canoe-loads of Maoris raided the Lord Worsley. Five men from a pa near the Harriet Beach stole the chests of gold, and hid them in a swamp. Under cover of darkness, they removed one chest, and carried it home. What happened after that has never been known. Perhaps they fought over their spoil, and killed one another. They did not return for the other three chests, and the gold was discovered and salvaged long afterwards.
But of the chest of gold which was carried to the Harriet pa, no one has ever heard of it from that day to this. Innumerable treasure-hunters have sought it in vain. Perhaps it lies
Opunake to-day is a sleepy little town, a holiday resort, famous for a glorious surfing beach. It lies on the wind-swept cliffs above the blue and white jewelled coastline, brooded over by the calm aloofness of Mount Egmont, the lovely Taranaki of old Maori lore. In summer the sweep of Opunake Bay is sun-bright; long rows of cars stand parked on the hard brown sand; the foaming surf is gay with laughter and shouting and tumbling bronze bodies. But in the winter, the sands lie pounded clean by the great Tasman rollers, and a haze of rain and spindrift blurs the bold face of the rugged cliffs. Then Egmont draws a blanket of cloud to him, and wraps his dazzling whiteness away, aloof and unattended.
But sometimes, on a calm winter's day, when there is frost in the air, and
There is little of the old days which has survived in Opunake. The old Redoubt, on the windy cliffs, has been razed. The deep moats are filled, the ramparts which saw the stirring days of the 'sixties and 'seventies and early 'eighties, are levelled to the ground. The Power Board has made a lake of the little saucer-shaped valley where the vegetables for the Camp were raised. Over on the good salty turf of the cliffs, where the Constabulary men grazed their horses, you may play golf, with a little caddie to save you the trouble of carrying your bag.
Of the old trading days of Opunake, nothing remains. The roadstead was once a busy port; as many as six ships in a day lay anchored, bringing trading goods and carrying off a cargo of baled flax. They were worked by surf-boats which plunged perilously through the tossing seas to the shore where patient bullocks waited, with wagons deep in the thunder and swirl of the breakers.
Now you approach Opunake prosaically enough by railway, or by the long grey bitumen-surfaced roads that run so straight and so smoothly through the flat green farmlands of Taranaki. No more the old mail-coach jingles along the New Plymouth highway, rattling over the stony mountain creek-beds, and lurching through the mud of the flax-swamps. To-day you may cover its long stages, in a modern car, on the smooth-surfaced road, in little more than sixty minutes.
In a car, you cross the swift clear waters of the Waiau River by a broad white concrete bridge. There is nothing to tell of the old, bad days of Taranaki, when the Waiau River crossing was the key to Te Whiti's position at Parihaka.
For many months a Constabulary post was kept at the Waiau River. Large parties of Maoris were not allowed to travel northwards; each man had to produce a pass, or convince the bridge guard that he was merely a peaceful traveller pursuing his own business. By such means a check was kept upon any large gathering of Te Whiti's disciples.
Opunake was the nearest white settlement to Parihaka, and at Opunake the main body of the troops was stationed, and a great display of arms made, while the difficult work of roading and survey continued through the province.
You may visit Parihaka to-day. That famous old Village of the Prophet is a peaceful little Maori settlement lying beneath the shadow of its guardian mountain, Egmont. You enter by way of gates built of unhewn stone, and, as your car rattles over the iron cattlestop, the loose rails sound a rude alarm,
There is something strange about Parihaka.
Of an evening, when Egmont fades away, blue and silver, into the mists, and night falls, Parihaka becomes a village inhabited by ghosts. Its lawful inhabitants are a-bed and asleep, and strange things are upon the night wind. A dispossessed people come back to cry for justice.
But no ghosts walk at Opunake, that leisurely little farming town upon its windy sea-cliffs. The motor-camp and the surfing beach, the busy dairy factory and the comfortable shopping street all very effectively manage to keep the past at bay.
But perhaps … of a rare summer evening, when the mists roll back from the mountain and a bow of fairy colours arches above the hazy coastline …. you may feel that deep at the foot of it must lie the lost chest of the Lord Worsley gold.
Low thunder reverberates in the distance, assuming gigantic proportions as the sudden light far down the grade rapidly develops into a hurtling monster of gleaming metal, driving pistons, lighted windows and swaying coaches. With a confused blur of faces, carriage after carriage flashes by, followed abruptly by red tail-lights, which diminish in brightness, flicker, and are in turn swallowed up by the enfolding darkness.
The “Limited”—No. 229—with its cosmopolitan living freight, has passed, speeding on its long journey south. Vague shadows hover intermittently at steam-darkened windows, and in the long coaches passengers read or doze; experienced travellers are prosaically sleeping as if in their own beds.
What hope, ambition, or sorrow, may be locked in the breast of each of these night voyagers, cleaving the darkness in the wake of a Juggernaut! Borne swiftly over a bridge, they roar, suddenly through a tunnel, or click rhythmically along foothills. A vibrant whistle sounds and faces peer from windows at startled stock in flight.
Now, from some remote dwelling or farmhouse, a lonely light appears, in that fleeting countryside, and the occupant automatically checks his clock. “It's the Limited,” he murmurs to the drowsily stirring form beside him, while on the footplate of that swaying cab, two men control the leaping, roaring monster of power and speed. The safety of the long train lies in their hands; each individual life in those following coaches is their responsibility.
“What's your total?” is the query shouted at one busy station.
“Ten, total,” laconically calls the driver of a long train.
Thirty years on the footplate! Thirty years in which driver and fireman have had the handling of many engines, and known affection for some few. Mr. M. Johnston, well-known Rugby referee and administrator, and popular masseur of the victorious 1934 All Black Rugby representatives, looks back over a full thirty years of Railway service.
Joining the Department in 1908, he spent his first three years at the old Christchurch cleaning sheds, long since demolished. He was then transferred
(Rly. Publicity photo.) The Auckland-Wellington “Limited” crossing the Waikanae Bridge.
“Firing on the ‘O’ class goods was a breezy job in the heavy winds of the Wairarapa,” smiled “Massa” Johnston. “I soon realised why the driver had advised me to tie down my overalls on that footplate. And I knew the reason for the peculiar shape of the ‘onesided’ young trees along the track.”
After fourteen months’ service at Masterton, Mr. Johnston was transferred to Palmerston North. From there he frequently descended Paekakariki above a curling white expanse of restless seas, or traversed the difficult Wangaehu bank to Wanganui in days when the latter gradient achieved a fame that had
(Rly. Publicity photo.) On the North Island Main Trunk Line, near Taumarunui.
“The Palmerston North depot of twenty-five years ago might be described, literally, as a dumping ground,” recalled Mr. Johnston. “From the ‘W's’ to the very early types, almost every known class of engine was represented. It was a relief to train crews when the first superheated type was introduced at this depot, proving far superior to the old saturated steam engine.”
“Massa” Johnston spoke of the impressive scene at Awapuni Racecourse when the “Main Body” was encamped. As a fireman of the troop-trains, he has not forgotten the busy week of the transportation to Wellington.
Four mixed trains conveyed a number of troops and horses to Thorndon Station one fateful Monday, three similar trains running on the Tuesday, and a further four on the Wednesday. After firing on the long strenuous journeys of Monday and Wednesday, “Massa” returned again to Wellington on Thursday's excursion train which brought friends and relations to attend the enthusiastic public farewell at Newtown Park.
Early in 1916, Mr. Johnston was transferred to Ohakune as fireman and acting-driver. He was attached to this depot of the Main Trunk line for more than ten years, working on engines of the “X” class, the heaviest in New Zealand, up to that time. To Taumarunui or Taihape he journeyed on mixed or goods trains, and for a number of years after the War was firing on the “First Express,” No. 221, now superseded by No. 227.
The heavy pull to Waiouru, New Zealand's highest station, was accomplished over grades that were steep and long. Then down and down on the continued slope to Taihape. It was driver Street and fireman Johnston who ran the first timetable train when the Raetihi branch line was officially opened by the Rt. Hon. W. F. Massey, P.C., then Prime Minister.
In the several years that driver Barrowman and fireman Johnston drove No. 221 together, they became familiar with every inch of the track, every
(Rly. Publicity photo.) Another Main Trunk scene, approaching the Hapuawhenua Viaduct.
They knew the tilling of the lowlands and the harvesting of golden grain. They saw the bushland slowly recede, leaving a trail of stumps and discarded logs. They watched rough settlements along the line become thriving townships, marking each new cottage near the embankment, each small farm which sprang up. Here they looked for a cheerily waving apron in a laughing house-wife's hand, or the merry shout of an eager child—and one day perhaps to gaze on lowered blinds which told their own mute tale of tragedy.
They drove their charge together, humouring her in her miles of achievement, in harmony with her working. They coaxed her up the long grades and let her have her head on the plains, checked her around the curves and nursed her along the up and down gradients. With real affection they regarded her, and with regret passed on to other spheres of work.
Following his promotion to driver, Mr. Johnston recalls the installation of the first electric headlights on the “Night Cat,” whose shrill cry was a familiar night sound to settlers of many townships.
Winter brought a fantastic unreality to the departure from Ohakune in the cab of an engine fitted with snow ploughs and brushes. The rails, and all
(Photo., W. W. Stewart Collection.) The New Zealand Railways powerful “K” class locomotive. Type, 4-8-4 with double bogie tender; water capacity, 5,600 gallons; coal capacity, 7 ½ tons; total weight in working order, 136 tons: tractive force, 30,815 Ibs.
The dreaded influenza epidemic of 1918 exacted a heavy toll, and at Ohakune a temporary hospital for Railway employees was opened in the District Traffic Manager's residence, then vacant. A large proportion of the staff was on the sick list, and the few remaining men endeavoured to maintain a skeleton service of necessary trains.
The creditable efforts of such train crews as driver Cornish, and fireman Wolff, were responsible for a good deal of the maintained schedule, a crew often taking out one train after another and remaining on duty for 15 or 16 hours per day. As acting-depot foreman, cheery “Old Tom” Barrowman is well remembered.
Perhaps the most heroic figure to the men of Ohakune in that dreadful time was Nurse Drummond, only daughter of the Rangataua Workshops Manager. The young nurse was holidaying at home when the grim epidemic seized its first victims, and she readily volunteered her services.
She was to become a veritable Florence Nightingale to her patients and gain the respect and affection of the many Railway employees whom she nursed back to health. Later, the gallant little nurse herself fatally contracted the disease, and her untimely death was mourned by the whole community. The presence of white-faced semi-convalescents brought to the final graveside scene all the tragic poignancy of the passing of a warm young life.
Mr. Johnston spoke of the famous Raurimu Spiral, whose tortuous ascent of 500 feet in five miles he negotiated with express or goods trains on countless occasions, in times ranging from an average of 30 minutes to delayed periods of 2 ½ hours. On early morning trips the magnificent scenery was sometimes obscured by drizzling rain, and bewildering changes of climate were probable as higher altitudes were reached.
With winter's approach, the scenery took on a wilder, bleaker aspect of bush tones in green, and in the sombre hues of great railway cuttings, gaping dark as wounds in towering walls of rock. The steady ominous crackling of bush fires at night would precede many a proud tree's toppling crash into hungry unflung arms of flame.
New Zealanders and overseas visitors are intensely aware of the arresting charm of New Zealand scenery, its character indigenous, its contrasts both vivid and subtle. In earlier days, before the building of the spacious Chateau, when National Park had not yet become the glorious winter playground of New Zealand, “Massa” Johnston and his mates had realised the wonder and the beauty of this mountain scenery.
On a clear day they had, from Waimarino, a magnificient view of the three snow-capped giants, Ruapehu, Ngauruhoe, and Tongariro. Nearby, the
The run to Waimarino has held one breath-taking glorious moment for many an appreciative train crew. On Makatote Viaduct where the twin rails passed above the bush-covered gorge, 260 feet below, the train hovered in the shadow of grand old Ruapehu—a minute and creeping caterpillar suspended ‘twixt earth and sky. Then in one fleeting moment came a far clear glimpse of the remote majesty of Egmont, one of Nature's sudden flashes of incomparable beauty.
Mr. Johnston's transfer to Auckland in 1926 enabled his growing family to attend secondary schools of the city. In the 12 years of his Auckland service, he watched the rapid expansion of the city's outskirts and their growth to exclusive suburbs. From Auckland depot he had driven many trains and handled various classes of engine until his retirement in June, 1938.
As a member of the Railways Locomotive Staff for more than 30 years, Mr. Johnston has seen many changes in the personnel and in the rolling stock of the Service; a Service of longer trains and heavier engines that is to-day
(F. G. Fitzgerald, photo.) The Greymouth-Christchurch Express on the run down from Arthur's Pass to the Canterbury Plains. The Goldney Ridge of Mt. Rolleston, on the Main Divide, is shown in the left background.
With the strain of night-work at continued speed, a strain increased by the number of trains and crossings on the “road,” drivers of the “Limited” and the Expresses have attained a high standard of efficiency.
Of the thirty powerful “K” class locomotives in the North Island, ten are attached to the Auckland depot. These modern engines average 136 tons, as compared with the 84 tons of the older “AB's,” and increased power is certainly needed to handle the greater weight of the air-conditioned cars of to-day.
As New Zealanders, we have many reasons to be proud of our National Service, whose thin brown lines are the pulsating transport and commerce arteries of the Dominion's economic life. The pictured “K” locomotive inspires a parting thought of the efficient designers and builders in Railway Workshops throughout the country, who are the unseen creators of each modern engineering masterpiece that to-day worthily upholds the Service tradition:
Safety First.”
From His Worship the Mayor of Whangarei, Mr. W. Jones, to Mr. G. H. Mackley, General Manager of Railways:
“Recently, my good lady, the Mayoress, travelled from Whangarei to Dunedin. After boarding the Auckland express at Whangarei it was found that her purse and railway tickets for the entire journey had been left in the car in which she had motored to the Whangarei Station.
“My Town Clerk has informed me that contact was immediately made with the Stationmaster at Waiotira on arrival, and I would like to express to you my appreciation and thanks for the assistance given my wife by your officers.
“The officers whom I specially wish to mention are the Stationmasters at Waiotira, Maungaturoto and Helensiville, and also Mr. Martin attached to Whangarei Station Staff.
“I did appreciate all their kindness, courtesy and assistance to the Mayoress and it is my privilege and duty to tell you so.
“The tickets were uplifted at the Auckland Station on the following day.”
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1940—the year of the New Zealand centenary will mean many and varied things to a diversity of people. To those, however, who see behind the celebrations themselves there is this important fact: New Zealand is putting her historical house in order. A great many of the early stories of our country have been lost because no one thought it was worthwhile to write them down. Alas, with the death of many of our early settlers there perished forever stories of courage, daring and romance. It is a tribute to the pen of men like James Cowan and others that with untiring efforts they have sifted out the facts of our history and recorded so many of them.
It has been shown all too clearly in the past that the real history has been the life of the people—a history not contained in official documents and one that can, for New Zealand, often be recaptured only by hours of patient listening in all manner of places.
Some are contributing by writing, others by various forms of art, and one of the most valuable of these will be the film illustrating the growth of New Zealand which is being produced by the Government.
This month, deserting once more the highways, we follow a byway to spend a day on the film location situated a few miles out of sunny Tauranga.
The setting was chosen for its suitability for filming scenes against bush, farming or domestic backgrounds. In a patch of bush to the left of the ploughed paddock is a rough hut made of punga fern with a canvas fly over the top for a roof. This is the setting for the filming of the pioneers in their first temporary home. About fifty feet away where the bush opens out into a clearing, another home is being built in feverish haste, for this is the more permanent home of the settlers, and as the day is bright nothing must hold up the “shooting.”
On this location, it is learned that a portion of the 1840–1860 part of the film is being produced. Few people will
On the set at Tauranga ordinary day-light was used for the “shooting.”
Una Weller, who is quite well-known in Wellington elocutionary circles, is in position ready for a take outside the punga hut. She is playing the female lead for this portion of the film, and Mr. Bridgman considers her very well-suited for the part, typifying the fine stamp of woman who came to New Zealand as a pioneer. In the background can be seen the bush, and surmounting it, billowy clouds set in a clear blue sky—a setting which should be a feature of this portion of the film.
Mr. Bridgman struggles with a heavy tripod trying to set it up in the middle of a patch of fern or blackberry. Always, in the bush, an axe or a most efficient chopper was a regular part of the camera equipment, for it was necessary at times to sever thick vines or tough branches that barred the way for the “shots.”
A sequence in the script, timed to take place at night, was being rehearsed late in the afternoon. Action was all passed and Mr. Bridgman asked for the sound.
There was a sound through the headphones that suggested it wasn't all right.
“What's the trouble? Is the mike picking up the milking noises from the farm?”
The “shooting” had to proceed.
These and many more troubles have to be encountered when recording away from the sound stage. On another occasion the filming of a tree felling sequence necessitated making a rough track through the bush so that the sound truck could be taken in close enough for the microphone to record the axe blows of the felling. The sound recording mechanism is housed in a big V8 wagon which takes some skill to manoeuvre, especially on a rough bush track, but the journey in was accomplished all right. The “shooting” of this sequence was a dangerous enough job for it meant that only a wind had to spring up or some other factor cause the tree to fall the wrong way and it would have been good-bye to cameras, amplifiers, microphones and a great deal more incidental equipment of all sorts, together with an expensive sound truck. However, the scene was necessary, and, unde, the expert guidance of Mr. Rogers, the felling commenced.
Two cameras were lined up a few feet away from the foot of the tree, and another further back for a long “shot” to take the tree and follow it down as it crushed. It took about an hour or more to get the cameras and sound equipment lined up and something like ready for action. By this time the sun had moved on and another tree was shielding its direct rays from the scene of action. Mr. Bridgman wanted the offending tree out of the way. This was done.
At last the tree was about to fall, and Mr. Bridgman shouted, “It's going!” There was some mighty fast work done by the clapper operator (for synchronisation) at the foot of the tree as he did his job and beat a hasty retreat. The director calmly kept grinding the two cameras taking the close-ups of the last strokes of the axe as the tree was going over, only a few feet away from him. Unfortunately the tree was held up and slewed round by hundreds of thick vines high up so that it came down about a third of the way only. It was too late to repeat the felling with another tree that afternoon so the equipment was packed and a second attempt planned for the next day.
“Shooting” went on from ten o'clock in the morning till seven each evening, with intervals for refreshments.
It is interesting to know that Mr. Rogers, who has helped the production so much by allowing any of his land to be used for the filming, and in many other personal ways, appears in several places in the film as a supporting actor. His treatment of all those on the location was a fine example of old New Zealand hospitality.
It was most interesting to watch Mr. Bridgman at work. Under operating difficulties such as those outlined, he succeeds in getting scenes of excellent quality, and he possesses that necessary degree of patience that brings out the best in those who are acting for him. Before each different scene he outlines the general background mood, thus supplying what is lacking in the break in sequence associated with filming work, and creating the right atmosphere for those who are to be before the camera. This is most helpful and assists in getting the right action response in as short a time as possible. For the “shooting” of the sequence depicted in another illustration, it was necessary for the clapper board to be held just beside the horse's nose and banged (for synchronisation) just before the call for action. This job fell to the writer on this occasion. I banged the board once, just for practice, and the horse reared his head suddenly, because of the noise. I heard a whisper from Mr. Rogers just behind me: “Bang the clapper board several times near the horse's head. He'll soon get used to it.”
I banged and was making great progress with the horse, but was so intent on this operation that I had not heard the cameras started and went on banging innocently. Each time I banged, Mr. Bridgman thought it was the correct one for synchronisation and waited for me to slip quickly out of the way so
“What went wrong then? Why didn't you move out?”
Before a scene can be filmed, the action must be rehearsed—usually many times. There are innumerable points to check up. The dialogue and action must be re-enacted just as the director visualises it in his own mind, the words must express the right emotion whether it is keen enthusiasm or tired persistence, besides being exactly as they are in the script, and the action must follow suit. The action may have to be changed and improved, for the director is visualising all the time just how things will appear on the silver screen, and everything must be clearly seen from the front.
Before rehearsals, general preparations have to be made, and, in particular, a suitable place has to be found for the microphone. This is often fixed to a special long boom with the mike suspended just over the heads of the actors, but sometimes exterior interference makes this difficult and other places have to be found. For example, in one of our illustrations with Mr. Rogers, Bob Pollard, and Una Weller, taken outside the hut, the microphone was held in the bell-topper. In this case it was the blowflies that had caused the trouble. In the top of this picture the top of the mike boom can be seen where it was originally set up.
After placing the mike, the assistant checks up with the cameraman to make sure that it will not show in the picture.
While rehearsals are going on the sound is being watched at the same time. The director and sound technician, with headphones on, watch the dials on their respective instrument panels, each of which has a built-in mike so that communication can be carried on freely between the two. To the onlooker it would appear that the volume of the voices has to be even more carefully controlled and matched by the actors than in broadcast work, and not till this is satisfactorily checked can the “take” be proceeded with. The mike is so sensitive that it often picks up the noise of the camera motor during a “take” and thus records it on the film as a distinctly extraneous sound. To overcome this the camera has to be swathed in a “blimp” which is something like a blanket with holes cut in it for access to the controls and to allow the lenses to poke their heads through.
Now, as the picture is recorded in the camera, and the sou