Blog Posts

Peter Sergel

Each major development in the evolution of civilisation has generally led to the emergence of a different form of garden and at Hamilton Gardens it’s proposed to develop thirty of those different garden forms. ⁽¹⁾ So Hamilton Gardens won’t just tell the story of gardens but a wider story of civilsation. One of humanity’s earliest developments was agriculture and the Hamilton Gardens site provided an ideal example of this. The pre-European gardens along the Waikato riverbanks are considered to have been the most extensively cropped lands in Polynesia. They were also ideal because traditional Maaori gardens weren’t just productive gardens, they included spiritual and aesthetic dimensions. ⁽²⁾ So the original intention was to re-create a garden that might have existed on these riverbanks in pre-European times. However, for various reasons the garden became more of a modern artwork, inspired by those early gardens. Pre-European gardens were a form of swidden agriculture, planted in patches of cleared, burnt over land rather than permanent gardens set within elaborate fencing and palisades. Carved features also looked very different before the introduction of metal tools. However, while this can’t really be called a pre-European garden, there are still many aspects that are significant and the garden itself has been referred to as one of the ‘treasures of Tainui’.

The Polynesians who reached Aotearoa some time between 1250 and 1275 must have been well prepared. ⁽³⁾ It’s unlikely to have been the grim survival depicted in the paintings of Goldie and Steele. (4) However, for a tropical culture to survive in the colder temperate climate, a lot of rapid adaptation and innovation was required, particularly since New Zealand cooled significantly with the Little Ice Age just after the Polynesians arrived. That story of settlement and exploration is told in Te Parapara Garden, primarily a symbolic garden rather than an example of a garden design tradition.

According to oral history, the great Tainui and Te Arawa craft sailed to Aotearoa together from east Polynesia, both arriving when the poohutukawa were in full bloom. ⁽⁵⁾ Near the entrance to Te Parapara Garden a pou represents Hoturoa, the captain of the Tainui waka. His figure is carved in the Tahitian style of ancestral Polynesia. The Tainui waka first made landfall at Whangaparaaoa, then moved on to Toorere, Whitianga and Waitemataa. At Waitemataa it was placed on rollers and pushed across the isthmus from the Waitemataa Harbour to the Manukau Harbour. The log rollers were said to have been cut from Pomaderris apetala that had been part of the floor of the waka. When the Tainui waka made its final landing at Kaawhia, the Pomaderris apparently sprouted and was later used for a variety of medical conditions. ⁽⁶⁾ A Pomaderris is planted just inside the entrance to Te Parapara. There is also a poohutukawa (Metrosideros excelsa) beside the entrance representing Tangi te Korowhiti, the name given to the poohutukawa the Tainui craft was tied to at the end of its voyage at Kaawhia. ⁽⁷⁾

The path into this garden is called Te Ara Whakataukii or ‘Path of Proverbs’, which showcases uncultivated food from the forest and grassland. Plants along the walk are associated with fifteen whakataukii (traditional proverbs or sayings of ancestors) about the journey through time and the significance of Maramataka. ⁽⁸⁾ The first proverb, ‘He purapura i ruia mai i Rangiaatea’ (‘The seed scattered abroad from Raiatea’), refers to Raiatea in the Society Islands as the origin of the Maaori people. A second, ‘Te iti oneone i kapunga mai i Hawaiki’ (‘A little bit of earth from Hawaiiki in the hollow of the hand’), refers to the soil brought to Aotearoa by the first voyages to ensure their crops would be successful. That seems to have worked, and no more so than along the fertile banks of the Waikato River.

Hamilton Gardens is located in an area settled by the Waikato Tainui iwi, who take their name from that famous waka. The general area was primarily a Ngaati Wairere settlement with many paa and settlement sites along the banks of the Waikato River. The only part of my Maaori introduction that I could ever remember without notes was ‘He piko, he taniwha, He piko, he taniwha‘ (‘At every bend in the river there was a chief’). Taawhiao, the second Maaori king, is reported to have described this district: “I whakawhiti aru ai te koopuu mania o Kirikiriroa, me oona maara kai te ngawhaa whakatupu ake te whenua moomona” (“I cross the smooth belly of Kirikiriroa, its gardens bursting with the fullness of good things”). ⁽⁹⁾

Central Hamilton was known as Kirikiriroa but the biggest nearby Paa site was Te Rapa, located between the river and the present Waikato Hospital. These areas alongside the Waikato River were renowned throughout Aotearoa for the quality of their gardening skills. Hamilton Gardens was the site of Te Parapara Paa, which in pre-European times was home to Hanui, a famous Ngati Wairere chief and one of the figures carved on the whatanoa gateway of Waikato Stadium. Like other gardens from the ancient world, they were often closely associated with rituals and spiritual beliefs. According to oral tradition, a site at or near the present Te Parapara Garden was associated with sacred rituals concerning the harvesting of food crops and the collection of berries from the forest. There was said to be a tuahu (sacred altar) called Te Ikamauroa there associated with these rituals. The gods being acknowledged were similar to ancient Polynesian ones: Pani, the female goddess who according to oral history gave birth to the first kuumara tubes, and Rongo, the male god of gardening and peace, who was summoned by the priest at planting time to take up residence in the small stone statue at the head of a garden. ⁽¹⁰⁾ Special gardens like Te Parapara had mauri (stone objects) planted within the garden as a talisman for sacred rituals associated with gardening.

For a culture highly skilled at navigating by the stars, garden orientation may have made reference to astronomical observation, like most other gardens of the ancient world. There are certainly references to the use of the phases of the moon to guide planting. ⁽¹¹⁾ Particular prominence is given to the Matariki constellation that rises in the predawn sky during June and July. It’s a star cluster recognised in other ancient cultures and known by different names including Pleiades, Messier 45, the Seven Sisters, and Subaru. ⁽¹²⁾ For Maaori, when Matariki is seen rising, it’s the sign of a new year and a time to celebrate, mourn the dead, and anticipate new life and the planting of a new harvest. Each year Matariki is celebrated at Hamilton Gardens with hundreds of people gathering at dawn to hear a karanga, waiata and a koorero about Matariki. Rangihaeata (the new dawn) is the appropriate time to hold such an event.

In Te Parapara Garden, the poutumu (heavy posts) in the palisade bear the names of the stars in the Matariki constellation. The smaller uncarved pouhimu depict the stars and ancient local deities. Pouwhakarae are posts that represent specific ancestral figures important in Ngaati Wairere whakapapa and special locations. Lines of pou along a palisade fence would sometimes show lines of descent and various ancestors and deities. Poutakitaki (structural support posts) are named after phases of the moon.

The waharoa or entrance marks the separation between the entrance path Te Ara Whakatauki (path of proverbs) and the area of the garden enclosed with a palisade. While the entrance path features plants indigenous to Waikato, the enclosed garden beyond the entranceway features five introduced plants. Early Maaori seem to have quickly worked out ways to use the indigenous plants they found and in some cases deliberately cultivated, like the flax and karaka. Some of these useful plants are listed in the footnote.⁽¹¹⁾ Examples include the Mamaku pith and cabbage tree roots and the karaka kernels that had to be cooked continuously for a day or two. Bush was burned to encourage growth of bracken fern, and the root of the fern was pounded into flour that was baked as cakes. ⁽¹²⁾ Other plants had medical benefits and these are marked with numbers in the Valley Walk area of Hamilton Gardens.

Adaption to the new environment is said to have occurred in three stages that transformed the old East Polynesian island culture. The Maaori settlement period was primarily about hunting and gathering, with seal rookeries, moa and other ground-dwelling birds being major sources of food. In the second phase gardening became increasingly important, and some native plants also started to be cultivated like the karaka, cabbage tree and bracken fern. As populations and competition for resources increased, larger tribal communities and alliances formed in settled areas. ⁽¹³⁾

Early settlers and missionaries frequently wrote about the neatness and precision of the planted crops. ⁽¹⁴⁾ Like earlier Polynesian cultures, Maaori put a lot of effort into the modification of local soils, terracing, stone or wooden boundary walls, pest control by fumigation, weeding, cultivation, drainage ditches and storage pits. Fourteen types of specialist garden tools have been identified, made from pounamu, argillite and tora (albatross bone). ⁽¹⁵⁾

Gardening could have involved six hour days from the whole community for half the year. To get some idea of the work involved, you only have to look at 1950s aerial photographs of the Waikato River terraces that were covered in tapaahi depressions or borrow pits. ⁽¹⁶⁾ They were a distinctive feature along the Waikato riverbanks that became more obvious when the land was cleared for farming. It’s not until you stand in these holes that you realise how many thousands of baskets of pumice sand were removed over a very long period. ⁽¹⁷⁾ Pumice was added to the soil to increase aeration, improve drainage and make cultivation easier. Charcoal was also added from burnt over forest and you can still see these modified ‘Maaori soils’ along some sections of eroded riverbank. Modern experiments have shown the soil warms sooner with these modifications to the soil. ⁽¹⁸⁾

Like earlier Polynesian gardens, stone walls were often used to define family boundaries and provide wind shelter in exposed areas of Aotearoa. But stones were also useful for holding radiant heat because they faced a challenge no other Polynesian culture had: a short growing season and frosts, particularly during the Little Ice Age (1300-1850).

There’s a general assumption that the first settlers in Aotearoa would have brought their full stock of useful plants, like banana, breadfruit, pandanus, sugarcane, coconut, arrowroot, giant taro, ginger, turmeric, kava, Polynesian bamboo and Malay apple. ⁽¹⁹⁾ However, there is only evidence of five surviving for any length of time in the colder climate.

• Ti Pore or Pacific Island cabbage tree (Cordyline fruticosa) had been used throughout the Pacific. It was used for garlands, skirts, roofing thatch, sandals, baskets, rain capes, rope and fishnets. They have a carrot-like rhizome and through selective breeding a sugar-laden rhizome variety was developed.
• Taro (Colocasia esculenta) was grown for its edible tubers and leaves that were cooked.
• Hue or bottle gourd (Lagenaria siceraria) produces a fruit that was dried and used as a storage vessel.
• Aute or paper mulberry (Broussonetia papyrifera) was regularly cut when it was two to four metres tall to produce fibrous inner bark. This was used to make tapa cloth for kites and loincloths.
• Uwhi or winged yam (Dioscorea alata) was grown for food in the north.
• Kuumara or sweet potato (Ipomoea batatas) was the most valuable staple crop. Heritage varieties are used in Te Parapara garden, two of those DNA-tested to the 13th century and the others possibly introduced by the early sailors and whalers. ⁽²⁰⁾

Kuumara were treated with great care according to traditional methods, which involved making a puke-ahu or mound in which the tuber was planted. These mounds improved drainage, generally preventing the tuber from rotting. But it also increased the surface area around the tuber, which increased the temperature and extended the growing season. The worst pest to damage the pre-European kuumara crops was the Kumara Caterpillar Moth. ⁽²¹⁾ This could be picked off by hand but early European visitors reported the kuumara fields were often fumigated with the pungent smoke from fires in which kawakawa (Macropiper excelsum) leaves had been placed. ⁽²²⁾

Kuumara would grow continually in tropical Polynesia but in the colder Aotearoa climate it was essential to safely store kuumara for long periods. They were often stored in sunken huts with a thatched roof and side drains. But the Maaori had invented specialised underground chambers called rua that could keep the kuumara dryer and cooler. ⁽²³⁾ These sometimes had ornamental carved entrances, like the example at Hamilton Gardens, ⁽²⁴⁾ but many were cut into banks with doors to keep out rodents and entrances hidden to avoid theft. ⁽²⁵⁾ The one in our garden has a massive concrete roof and would probably make a good nuclear fallout shelter.

Like most populations in the ancient world, life was short and brutal and analysis of bone fragments ⁽²⁶⁾ suggest there was often a seasonal shortage of food. Kuumara crops and kuumara stores needed to be protected from theft and invasion. That meant settlement in tribal districts and fostering strong tribal alliances. Where this provided security and an abundance of food, it also encouraged the development of ancient crafts and arts. Ancient Maaori had an eastern Polynesian cultural aesthetic that could produce fine works of art. It’s unclear if there was any ornamental gardening on any scale, but the productive gardens were very carefully laid out. Most followed a quincunx pattern: the ‘five’ side of a dice repeated to form alternating rows. Best also described garden paths bordered with neat rows of stones.

Some of the Maaori craft can be seen in the carvings in Te Parapara Garden. The carved figures on the Waharoa (entrance portal) represent the story of Ruarangi and his battle with the Tahurangi. The pou whakarae (carved posts on the taaepa or palisade) represent specific ancestral figures important in Ngaati Wairere genealogy. The magnificent paataka (four legged storehouse) and the whataarangi (two legged storehouse) were used to store a range of food, tools and other possessions, and were designed with an overhang to keep out rats. ⁽²⁷⁾ The structures are covered in kokowai or red ochre prepared in the traditional manner on an open fire. ⁽²⁸⁾

Te Parapara Garden was developed from 2005 to 2010 in association with Nga Mana Toopu O Kirikiriroa. The fundraising and oversight of the garden’s development was the responsibility of Te Parapara Garden Trust. The Trust’s patron, Harry Puke, played a particularly valuable role in ensuring all of the many different organisations and interests were consulted. Most of the design and research was done by his son Wiremu Puke, who was partially inspired by the discovery of pre-European garden sites during the excavation of the Wairere Drive in northern Hamilton. Much of the funding for this garden was provided by the Ministry of Internal Affairs through a lottery grant. The project was managed by Parks Manager Bill Featherstone. Other key people in the development of this garden included Piri Poutapu, Dante Bonica, carvers Sam Roa, Shane Tamaki and carvers of the Te Puia Maaori Arts and Crafts Institute at Whakarewarewa. The garden was officially opened in December 2008 by the Governor General His Excellency Anand Satyanand, witnessed by the Maaori King Te Arikinui Tuheitia Paki and Hamilton Mayor Bob Simcock.

References

1. Peter Sergel, The Time Traveller’s Guide to Hamilton Gardens, Phantom House, 2023
2. The Maaori language in this article uses double vowels instead of macrons, in accordance with the practices of Waikato Tainui.
3. Andrew Crowe, Pathway of the Birds- The voyaging achievements of Maaori and their Polynesian ancestors, Bateman, 2018, p.180
4. James Belich, Making Peoples, A History of the New Zealanders from Polynesian Settlement to the End of the Nineteenth Century, Penguin Books, 1996, p.38
5. Andrew Crowe, Pathway of the Birds- The voyaging achievements of Maaori and their Polynesian ancestors, Bateman, 2018, p.178
6. Wiremu Puke, conversations recorded by Geoff Doube, 2005 -2009
7. Wiremu Puke, Notes made over several years
8. Venetia Sherson article in Heritage NZ Journal, Issue 161, winter 2021. P.31
9. Wiremu Puke, conversations recorded by Geoff Doube, 2005 -2009
10. Helen Leach, 1,000 Years of Gardening in New Zealand, Reed, p71 *
11. Mere Roberts & Frank Weko, Maramataka: the Maori Moon Calendar, Research Report 283, 2006
12. Venetia Sherson article in Heritage New Zealand Journal, Issue 161, winter 2021. P.35
13. Plant list in appendix 4 of the Time Traveller’s Guide to Hamilton Gardens.
14. Photos of archaeological sites by W. Gumbley show the footprints of ancient kuumara puke laid
    out in a perfect grid.
15. Elsdon Best, Maori Agriculture, Te Papa Press,1925,p.32-34 *p.47 *
    Wiremu Green, Carving a Contemporary Replica of the 1769 ‘Joseph Banks’ Panel Using Pre-Steel Tools – Reviving a Traditional Maaori Carving Technique, Journal of Material Culture, 2019, p. 13
    Caving tools ranged from toki haruru (wide bladed greenstone adze) and toki matariki (an adze made from package) to toki panekeneki (a small finishing adze)(16)
16. Old aerial photographs taken by K. Jones held in Hamilton Public Library
17. Walton and Cassels 1992-166 and map by C. Edkins
18. Helen Leach, 1,000 Years of Gardening in New Zealand, Reed, p35 & 71 *
19. Helen Leach, 1,000 Years of Gardening in New Zealand, Reed, p49 *
20. Seven varieties of kuumara are currently grown in this garden: parapara, poukena, rekamaroa, taputini, mahina, rekarawa and huti huti. Poukena was thought to have been introduced by the early whalers and sealers from the 1800s. Venetia sherson article in Heritage New Zealand Journal, Issue 161, winter 2021. P.31
21. Moth caterpillar (Agrius convolvuli)
22. Wiremu Puke, Notes made over several years.
    Wiremu Puke, Conception, construction and the cultural significance of Te Parapara Garden in Hamilton, Aotearoa, Journal of New Zealand & Pacific Studies, Vol 9, No.2 Aug 2020, p.179 – 198
23. Helen Leach, 1,000 Years of Gardening in New Zealand, Reed, p61 *
24. Roger Neich, Tradition and Change in Maaori and Pacific Art, Auckland Museum, 2013, p.182
25. Elsdon Best, Maori Agriculture, Te Papa Press,1925, p.92 *
26. Helen Leach, 1,000 Years of Gardening in New Zealand, Reed, p60 *
27. Elsdon Best, Maori Storehouses and Kindred Structures, A.R. Shearer, Government Printer, 1974, p.92
28. Ochre or iron oxide gel called mineral ferrihydrite was gathered from several sites around the district and heated on an open fire to oxidise and dehydrate to bring out the red colour. The source and heat determine the final colour but red usually needs 750°C. After burning the ochre is ground and mixed with vegetable oil.

Mike Lloyd, Victoria University of Wellington (mike.lloyd@vuw.ac.nz)

In his work on war memorials in New Zealand, Jock Philips calls Whanganui ‘the war memorial capital of the world’.^[1]  Clearly, the expression is used for rhetorical effect, not really being open to empirical evaluation.  Nonetheless, in the example of Whanganui’s small riverside reserve originally known by Māori as Pākaitore, then in 1900 to become Moutoa Gardens, but then in 2001 to return to being called Pākaitore,^[2] substance is found for Philips’ expression. The less than one hectare site contains three significant war memorials.  As Philips details, ‘The Maori name was Pakaitore, the place (pa) where food (kai) was given out (tore)’, pointing to the strong significance to Māori of this gathering place.  The renaming as ‘Moutoa Gardens’ overrode this initial sense, emphasising the 1864 Battle of Moutoa with its complex array of antagonists.^[3]  Eventually, related to the 1995 occupation of Moutoa Gardens, the land was vested in the Crown, with the return to the name Pākaitore.  The presence of the three war memorials on the site is testament to this complex history, which can still invoke strong emotions.  An unintended consequence of the well documented nature of these events is help in telling an untold history: the story of the planting and removal of palms in Pākaitore.  This has gone on for well over 120 years, as we can see by considering the 1920 photo shown in Figure 1.   

Close scrutiny of Figure 1 shows one of the two earliest palms to be planted in Pākaitore.  Magnification of the photo shows that past the flagpole is a palm able to be identified (from subsequent information) as a Washingtonia robusta (common name Mexican fan or skyduster palm).  There is no record of the palm’s planting. However, in 1911 Whanganui newspapers carry reports of ‘choice varieties of palms’ being planted on Durie Hill, and very old W. robusta can still be seen there. The reports note that these palms were imported from Australia,^[4] and it seems fair to assume that the sole specimen in Pākaitore came from the same shipment, meaning that a planting date of circa 1911 looks reasonable.  At this time Mexican fan palms were being planted in other cities, for example Auckland and Napier, along with other introduced palms. But in Pākaitore we can see palms not commonly found in early New Zealand palm landscaping.  Figure 2 shows this trend began with the early planting of a nikau palm (Rhopalostylis sapida).^[5]

The photo is a detail from an Auckland Weekly News collage of 7 photos taken during Anzac Day observances on April 30, 1930.  The cenotaph in view to the right is the Māori World War One Memorial built in Pākaitore from 1924 and unveiled on Anzac Day 1925.^[6] We see a good crowd gathered for the ceremony, and there to the left of the memorial is a nikau palm.  The height of the visible leaf node suggests the palm has a developed trunk, which can sometimes take over 10 years to start appearing.^[7]  This and its height suggest the palm is about 20 years old. Therefore, it possibly could have been planted before, or at least within a few years of, the Mexican fan palm’s planting.  There is no available record or photo that can verify this date. However, there is other contextual information that partly helps in answering this question.  In 1912 in a report on ‘Local and General’ news it is reported that ‘Mr Gregor McGregor has sent another large shipment of plants to the borough nurseries, including about twenty well-grown nikau palms.’^[8] Gregor was born in Matarawa Valley to the south-east of Wanganui, worked in the upper reaches of the Whanganui river, spoke te reo, and was a noted promoter of native flora for planting in the Whanganui region.^[9] Moreover he was married to Pura McGregor (née Te Pura Manihera), whose father was killed in the Battle of Moutoa, and whose uncle was Major Kemp (Te Keepa Te Rangihiwinui), memorialised in the Kemp monument built in Pākaitore in 1911^[10]. Both McGregors were involved in the Wanganui Beautifying Society, particularly with the development of the Rotokawau Virginia Lake Reserve, where a memorial still stands to commemorate Pura McGregor.

It is not able to be confirmed, but it does look highly likely that the single nikau planted in Pākaitore came from the donation of nikaus, sourced by Gregor McGregor either in the Matarawa Valley farm or from bush remnants in the upper Whanganui River.  An item on ‘Town Talk’ in 1931 notes that ‘A Nikau in Moutoa Gardens which has burst into flower has been a subject of interest to many people during the past few days.’^[11] This aligns with the description of ‘well-grown’ nikaus sent by Gregor McGregor to the council, as it is stem size rather than age that is a better indicator of first flowering in nikau.^[12]

Unfortunately, there are no available photographs that show a younger nikau in Pākaitore, nor any mention in newspapers of its planting date.  In some way trying to ascertain a planting date is a moot point, as there is no doubt about its later fate: it was removed (or perhaps died).  The mystery is when this happened and why.  Requests to the local council and museum archivists found no information on these matters.  However, there is some photographic evidence establishing that the nikau was present into the early 1960s, and interestingly this also shows two other palms in Pākaitore.  Figure 3 is one of the very few photos that shows both the nikau and the two newcomers.

Obviously, the two newcomers are Phoenix palms.  Their planting was noted in the Wanganui Chronicle as follows: ‘Phoenix canarianthus [sic] was planted in Moutoa Gardens yesterday.  These plants, which come from the Canary Islands, were grown from seeds in the municipal nursery. A number have already been planted around the Art Gallery and at Virginia Lake and are in a flourishing state’.^[13] The photo shows the 34 year old Phoenix palms having the robust stature we would expect at this age.  The planting as a pair in front of a building – the Whanganui courthouse – was a common landscape trope at the time.  The nikau is obviously a smaller palm in terms of crown spread and trunk diameter, but we can see it is not an insignificant specimen, and has set seed.  Clearly, the photo also shows that the other trees in Pākaitore are gaining in stature, with a red flowering Eucalytpus (renamed Corymbia), a pohutakawa, and an English oak all visible. Whereas the fate of the nikau after this is a mystery, there is no similar mystery as to the fate of the two Phoenix palms.  Figure 4 indicates this.

The top photo shows the early stages of the construction of a new Whanganui courthouse building.  Other aerial images show that with the removal of the old wooden courthouse the two Phoenix palms were left in-situ, but by March 1966 the one to the right was removed.  The new courthouse was larger and also differently angled into Pākaitore, thus necessitating the removal of the southern-most Phoenix palm.  It is another small mystery as to why the northern-most Phoenix palm, initially left untouched, was removed by 1967 as indicated in the LINZ Retrolens photo.  At this time there were certainly good numbers of Phoenix palms in Whanganui, many of which were later included in the Register of Notable Trees, so perhaps the loss of these two in Pākaitore was not seen as an issue.  Additionally, it does not seem the case that this removal is an early case of a developing preference for native flora.  The removal, probably shortly after 1962,^[14] of the nikau palm indicates this, as do the later developments indicated in Figure 5.

The figure shows several interesting developments in Pākaitore.  The 2010 GoogleMaps streetview photo shows to the centre right a young Jubaea chilensis (common name Chilean wine palm).  Secondly, we can see that two new W. robusta now grow next to the by now very tall early planted palm (here it is approximately 100 years old). The fact that the single specimen was complemented by two others is not unexpected, as the tallness of the palm coupled with its relatively slim trunk makes a single specimen seem a bit ‘leggy’, hence it is more commonly planted in groups.  The 2010 Google streetview also shows in the foreground a new mass planting of nikau (totalling over 50), actually extending right along the side of Pākaitore that faces the river.  The 2023 photo shows that despite claims that Chilean wine palms are slow growing, the sole specimen on view here has made strong growth, clearly showing the typically massive trunk they are known for.^[15] Interestingly, available photographic evidence suggests the palm was not planted until after 1995.^[16]  It is in excellent health, as are the nikau which have also made good growth in the 13 years between the dates of the two photos, something reiterated in Figure 6.

The final figure clearly indicates that in the future the nikau palm set is going to be a significant arboreal feature of Pākaitore.  Of course, they are relatively slow growing, but there is no doubt that with time the mass planting will constitute a significant version of vernacular palm landscaping in New Zealand.  It will more that make up for the removal of the early nikau.  But the photo also shows that the nikau are not the only arboreal elements that will become more striking as they age and grow. The large tree to the top right of the photo is a kauri, in excellent health.  The trio of W. robusta are likely as a collective to be more impressive looking than the previous sole specimen. And presumably, even though of course it is an exotic, the Chilean wine palm will remain and look even more impressive with age.  The mystery of the initial removal of the early-planted nikau remains, as does the part-mystery of the removal of one of the Phoenix palms, but the current progressive state of Pākaitore means a search for the explanation of both removals is relatively unimportant.^[17]  An eye to the future, coupled with the accountability associated with better record-keeping, should mean that within Pākaitore palms of all kinds will continue to prosper, along with the other trees found therein.

Acknowledgements

This blog is dedicated to Oliver Stead (1963-2024) who would have appreciated the nikau palms (and the removal of the Phoenix palms).  Thanks to Simon Bloor of Whanganui District Council, and Sandi Black, Whanganui Regional Museum, for help with information.  Thanks also to Michael Brown for continued talk about matters arboreal.

---

Footnotes

[1] J. Phillips, 2006, ‘Wanganui: War memorial capital of the world’, in K. Gentry & G. McLean (eds.), Heartlands: New Zealand Historians Write About Places Where History Happened, Auckland: 72-89.

[2] For details see, Pākaitore Historic Reserve Board, Pākaitore: A History, 2020, H & A Print.

[3] See D. Young, Woven by Water: Histories from the Whanganui River, 1998, Wellington: Huia Publishers.

[4] ‘Local and general’, Wanganui Herald, 12 June 1911, p. 4; ‘Local and general’, Wanganui Herald, 24 August, 1911, p. 4.

[5] Nikau palms were certainly known by early gardeners, including enthusiasts like Clement Wragge and Alfred Ludlam, but in the early 1900s when planting in parks and gardens began in earnest there was a prevalent attitude that they belonged in the bush, and would not thrive in parks and amenity gardens.  See, for example, ‘Re Beautifying the streets’, New Zealand Herald, 6 November 1901, p. 7.

[6] E. Morris, Kia Mau ai te Ora, te Pono me te Aroha ki te Ao Katoa: The Māori First World War Memorial at Whanganui’, Turnbull Library Record, 2014, 46: 1-13.

[7] N.J. Enright, ‘Factors affecting reproductive behaviour in the New Zealand nikau palm’, New Zealand Journal of Botany, 1992, 30: 69-90.

[8] ‘Local and general’, Wanganui Herald, 3 October 1912, p. 4.

[9] ‘Our native flora’, Wanganui Herald, 20 July 1912, p. 4.

[10] ‘Pura McGregor, Wikipedia entry, at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pura_McGregor; Pākaitore Historic Reserve Board ‘Pākaitore: A History’, p. 25.

[11] ‘Town talk’, Wanganui Chronicle, 5 March 1931, p. 6.

[12] N.J. Enright, ‘Factors affecting…’

[13] ‘Untitled’, Wanganui Chronicle, 1 August 1928, p. 6.

[14] Magnification of the 1967 Retrolens image does not seem to indicate the continued presence of the nikau palm, though it could be in the shadow of other trees. Either way, it is definitely no longer growing as confirmed by a 2023 site visit and consulting Google maps.

[15] Jubaea chilensis is a rare palm in New Zealand.  The two largest specimens I know of are planted at George Grey’s Mansion House on Kawau Island, and there is also a large specimen in Monte Cecilia park in Auckland.  Interestingly, there is one other specimen in Whanganui – in a private garden in East Whanganui.

[16] A photo in a 1995 article (p. 47) on the occupation of Moutoa Gardens shows no sign of the Chilean wine palm. See C. Brett, ‘Wanganui: Beyond the comfort zone’, North & South, June 1995, 44-59.

[17] It is possible that further information could be found, but given the resources for putting together this short report it is followed no further here.  I am open to communication on this matter.

Pania Yanjie Mu, Research Associate, Institute of East Asian Art History, University of Heidelberg 

Suzhou is renowned as a city of gardens, especially since its incorporation as a heritage city in 1997 by UNESCO. The city boasts famous gardens such as the Surging Wave Pavilion, Lion Grove Garden, Unsuccessful Politician’s Garden, and Lingering Garden, collectively known as the four famous gardens of Suzhou. These gardens epitomize the best of literati culture, showcasing the sophisticated Chinese aesthetics and lifestyle from the Song to the Qing dynasties. The rich literati culture of these gardens makes it difficult to associate them with any Buddhist connotations. 

Pania Yanjie Mu’s new book, From Temples to Garden Estates and Academies: Landscape Transformation of Suzhou During the 13th-16th Centuries and Beyond, published in the Routledge Research on Gardens in History series, uncovers the Buddhist history of Suzhou gardens in the Yuan dynasty. This book reveals that the four famous Suzhou gardens were originally temples during the Yuan dynasty: the Surging Wave Pavilion was the Southern Chan Temple, Lion Grove Garden was Shizi Lin Temple, Unsuccessful Politician’s Garden was Great Propagation Temple, and Lingering Garden was Western Garden Temple. Xu Ben’s painting of Shizi Lin Temple, depicting a Dharma hall centered around a Great Lake rock, captures the garden setting of the temple in the Yuan dynasty. 

The book provides a detailed narrative and spatial analysis of how the monk Tianru Weize established Shizi Lin Temple in Suzhou, translating the Buddhist culture of crafting scenes from Mount Heaven Eye in Hangzhou. The second chapter is dedicated to Shizi Lin Temple, identifying its garden setting as a renovated style from previous axial Song dynasty monasteries. When Shizi Lin Temple was sold to a gentry family in the mid-Ming dynasty, it gradually transformed into a literati garden, with its former Buddhist traces erased. 

A second dimension consistently explored throughout the book is the hydraulic evolution of Suzhou from the Yuan to the Qing dynasty. The first chapter investigates the hydraulic infrastructures of Southern Chan Temple, Shizi Lin Temple, and Great Propagation Temple. Using 3D historical modelling and sectional urban hydrological analysis, it argues that the ‘mound-field-river’ topography shared by these temples formed a self-sufficient ecological estate that facilitated agricultural yields. The book demonstrates how this hydraulic topography of monastic estates attracted the gentry, leading to their seizure of temples. For example, despite the tranquil settings depicted in Wen Zhengming’s painting of Unsuccessful Politician’s Garden, its owner Wang Xiancheng actually seized the site from Great Propagation Temple. Some historical literature recorded Wang violently destroyed the temple and Buddhist statues. The book argues that the topography, rivers, mounds, and verdant trees were actually established by monks in the Great Propagation Temple. Interestingly, in all of Wen Zhengming’s representations of the garden, no Buddhist traces exist. 

A significant innovation in the book is its use of 3D architectural modeling and historical GIS mapping. The author simulates the evolution of these three temples into famous gardens, offering evidence-based illustrations of their transformations. By examining isometric model drawings of the transformations, readers could develop their own spatial understanding of how architecture acts as an agent in urban transformation. The author also uses GIS mapping to anchor the representative three temple-to-garden cases into the temple-scape of the Yuan and the garden-scape of the Ming. The urban transformation of Suzhou hints at the secularization of Chinese cities and societies since the early Ming dynasty. The history of Chinese gardens can thus be read as the gentry’s contention with Buddhists over hydraulic estates, social power, and cultural authority. 

By Ian Duggan, Te Aka Mātuatua – School of Science, The University of Waikato

The tree tomato (Solanum betaceum Cav.) is native to South America. However, in New Zealand it has long been popular in gardens, and Aotearoa is the primary commercial grower of the fruit outside of its native range. Further, like ‘kiwifruit’, New Zealand has been responsible for the ‘tamarillo’ moniker, which has become the standard commercial designation for the versatile fruit.

Early introductions and experiments

The first known record of the tree tomato in New Zealand has been widely attributed to the nursery of D. Hay and Son, near Parnell, Auckland, where it was advertised in their 1891-92 catalogue. They declare they obtained seed in 1891 from a gentleman who had it sent from the hill district of India, where the plant was growing almost wild.^[i] However, thanks to the power of Papers Past, we can push the first known mention of the tree tomato in New Zealand back to an independent importation by George Mason of Claudelands Nursery, Hamilton. In May 1890, the Waikato Times reported, Mason had

…a novelty in his nursery in the shape of what is called a tree tomato. This has been raised from seed imported from Ceylon [now Sri Lanka], and has been grown under glass. The plant is now about a foot in height. It bears a fruit which somewhat resembles a tomato in appearance, but the flavour is said to equal that of an apricot. Mr Mason has also about fifty young plants, and these will soon be ready for disposal.^[ii]

Advertisements for the fruit trees increased rapidly from this time, particularly in the North Island.

In June 1893 Murray Aston, a correspondent for the Otago Witness visiting Auckland, observed that in the northern city the usual commodities of life ranged pretty much the same in value as in Dunedin, with the important exception of fruit,

…which in comparison with the cost in Otago makes one conjecture that the public here [in Otago] are not being so fairly treated as they deserve. A most delicious fruit is the green fig”, he stated, “which seems quite plentiful up north, and are sold in the shops at 4d per lb… Another, to me novel and at the same time appetising, delicacy in the fruit line (also sold retail at 4d per lb) was the “tree tomato.” In flavour it was not unlike the passion fruit ; in shape it resembled an egg of the common fowl, and its colour was that of a bright, glass-grown, ordinary tomato. I have never seen any of these in Dunedin, and I feel sure they could be imported to yield a good profit to some of our enterprising fruiterers.^[iii]

In November 1894 the Dunstan Times, from Central Otago, reported that a quantity of the fruit had been sold the previous season by fruiterers in Wellington, under the name of the ‘Queensland tomato’, which

…quite took the fancy of buyers”. “Although the fruit is said to be delicious, there is a great diversity of opinion as to its flavor [sic], some people thinking it tastes like tomato and guava, others like tomato and melon, and gooseberry. It is said to make excellent tarts and jam”.^[iv]

No mention of the name ‘Queensland tomato’ can be found in print beyond this article, however.

Throughout these early years, only yellow- and purple-coloured strains were apparently available in New Zealand, with the red varieties that came to dominate being used only from around the end of World War One. A Mr Bridge, of Mangare, Auckland, is reported to have grown the first red strain in New Zealand at this time, though other strains of that colour were introduced soon after, including from the United States.^[v]

Despite recipes galore appearing in newspapers, and its wide availability from nurseries in the decades before, the popularity of the fruit seemingly did not take hold until the 1940s, when the Sub-Tropical Fruits Association began to distribute pamphlets containing recipes within the containers of the fruit. In June 1947, A. B. Congdon, President of the New Zealand Fruitgrowers’ Association stated in an address to a party of fruit growers at Otumoetai that “In my opinion the Sub-Tropical Fruitgrowers’ Association started out on the right foot when they printed recipes on the treatment of tree tomatoes, to pack with the fruit”. He said that if that had not been done, possibly many people would have tried them raw, disliked them, and not bothered to have ordered any more.^[vi],[vii]

In late 1947, the tree tomato was reported to be becoming increasingly popular in New Zealand. Because of an increased demand, the area under commercial cultivation underwent rapid expansion. It was estimated in 1947 that there were 136 acres under cultivation, with most of this comprising numerous small plantings of up to an acre in extent, with much of this small adjuncts to citrus culture on small holdings. The number of larger plantings was, however, also increasing. Plantings weren’t distributed evenly across the country, however. Being a sub-tropical shrub “and considerably more frost tender than the lemon”, its commercial culture was largely confined to the frost-free areas of the Auckland Province. By this time the red variety had become the most popular on the market and was thus planted in greater proportion.^[viii]

An export industry

Export became a priority in the 1960s. It was reported in 1961 that, prompted by Government exhortations to get out and sell, a group of New Zealand tree-tomato growers had shipped sample packs of fruit to Melbourne, Hong Kong and Italy. Nevertheless, concerns had arisen at this time regarding the name of the fruit.

One of the snags to marketing the fruit in Australia, where it is almost unknown, is the prosaic name. Experienced businessmen in the Australian fruit trade thought it was some variety of tomato. Hopes centre on selling it overseas under its botanical name Solanum.^[ix]

These sentiments were echoed in 1962, when exploring trade of fruit to Sydney:

Another fruit which is not yet well known is the tree tomato… exports would be increased if the Australian public realised that this fruit is not just another form of the familiar tomato.^[x]

What’s in a name?

In response to these naming concerns, a new name was proposed – but it wasn’t ‘Solanum’. ‘Tamarillo’ was suggested by Mr W. Thomson of Kerikeri, the chairman of the Tree Tomato Advertising and Promotion Committee, and this was approved by grower associations and trade interests in February 1966.^[xi] But where did the name Tamarillo come from? Was it a native South American name for the fruit? No! Thomson explained that:

The new name is the result of many months of extensive research… It is a composite name, the first section of which is associated with New Zealand and the second with South America, the countries of adoption and origin respectively.^[xii]

…the first section of the composite name, Tama, had been chosen as a compliment to New Zealand, the country of adoption. It also had historical significance, Tama being the commander of one of the early migratory canoes which brought the Maoris (sic) to New Zealand from Polynesia. The Maori people sometimes used the names of people of rank when naming articles of value, including agricultural products. Tama blended well with the South American section of the name and had the advantage that it was easy to pronounce by people not used to the Maori language.

Mr Thomson stated the tree tomato was a native of Brazil and Peru: “In these two countries the fruit is known as Paolo de tomate and tomale de arbol, which, translated literally, means tree tomato”, he said. “Little help is gained, therefore, from the South American names, and likewise from the botanical name, Cyphomandra betacea Sendt [now Solanum betaceum].” “However, in the countries of origin there is a close relative of this family, the tomatillo, meaning a small tomato. “We are endeavouring to get away from the association with the word tomato, but as a compliment to the countries of origin the final portion of this word has been retained as Tillo. The letter T was replaced in Tillo to make it easier to pronounce.” The name Tamarillo was registered with the Patents Office and it was reported that it could be used for the coming season’s export crop.^[xiii]

A date of January 31, 1967, was declared as when the tree tomato would be officially rebranded as the tamarillo, with the name applying to the fruit sold on the New Zealand market as well as for export.^[xiv] A rebranding ceremony was held at Waitangi in April, attended by about 80 representatives of the Tamarillo Growing Association from Kerikeri, Te Puke and Auckland, where the first tamarillo harvesting season was declared open.^[xv]

Not everything went to plan with the renaming, however. On 15 January 1970, for example, the name “tamarillo” printed on the label of cans was declared to be not adequate for the New South Wales Department of Health, with the department ruling that cans of the fruit imported from New Zealand must also carry the words “tree tomatoes.” Here, their Department of Health claimed that “tree tomato” was the commonly accepted English name for the fruit. In response, New Zealand trade officers stated that one reason why “tamarillo” was now preferred and used in New Zealand was that United States officials had objected to “tree tomato” as misleading:

“We changed it to get acceptance on the American market, but now find New South Wales doesn’t like the new term. You can’t win.”^[xvi]

In 1977, a display of tamarillos and other fruits at department store Haywrights in Christchurch by the Kerikeri Citrus Growers’ Association. Mr D. Anning, one of the organisers of the display, stated that:

Tamarillos are one of the most underrated fruits. They can be eaten raw, sliced up for fruit salads and green salads, or added to chutneys, relish, and casseroles. They can also be stewed like other fruit and made into pies. How many people know that tamarillos have a great tenderising effect on meat?” said Mr Anning. He has been amazed during the week that many people are still unsure what tamarillos are. “They used to be called tree tomatoes,” Mr Anning said. “Many people are still confusing them with kiwi fruit, which changed their name from “Chinese gooseberries.”^[xvii]

Nowadays, many of us still enjoy tamarillo, but I bet few of us know the origins of the name.

---

References

^[i] Fletcher, WA. 1975. Growing Tamarillos. New Zealand Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries, Bulletin. 306.

^[ii] The Claudelands Nursery. Waikato Times, 17 May 1890, P2

^[iii] A few noted on Auckland. Otago Witness, 1 June 1893, P35

^[iv] Local and general. Dunstan Times, 2 November 1894, P2

^[v] Fletcher, WA. 1975. Growing Tamarillos. New Zealand Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries, Bulletin. 306.

^[vi] Out and About. Bay of Plenty Times, 25 June 1947, P2

^[vii] First General Meeting. Bay of Plenty Times, 2 July 1947, P2

^[viii] Free Tomato Increasingly Popular Sub-tropical Fruit In Dominion. Bay of Plenty Times, 22 November 1947, P4

^[ix] Tree Tomato Exports. Press, 17 October 1961, P12

^[x] Small-Fruit Exports. Press, 24 April 1962, P3

^[xi] New Name For The Tree Tomato. Press, 15 February 1966, P1

^[xii] Change Of Name. Press, 6 September 1966, P3

^[xiii] New Name For The Tree Tomato. Press, 15 February 1966, P 1

^[xiv] Change Of Name. Press, 6 September 1966, P3

^[xv] Tamarillos (Official). Press, 4 April 1967, P1

^[xvi] Name Trouble. Press, 16 January 1970, P20

^[xvii] Kerikeri promotion of citrus fruit range. Press, 27 May 1977, P2

By Stephen J Forbes

“In Sri Lanka, there grows to this day, a tree, the oldest historical tree in the world.” – H.G. Wells

In late 2015, our family made a pilgrimage to the ancient city of Anuradhapura in Sri Lanka.  The World Heritage site illustrates millennia of Sri Lanka’s cultural history and remains a lively contemporary religious and regional centre.  Our visit coincided with the Ill Full Moon Poya day public holiday that draws crowds to the Thuparamaya – the most ancient of Sri Lanka’s stupas and the origin of Sri Lanka’s Buddhism, and to the ancient Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi – the oldest cultivated tree in the world with a documented written history.  The veneration accorded this particular tree, especially by devotees of the Theravada Buddhist tradition, reflects the direct connection to the living Buddha.

The Jaya Siri Maha Bodhi was established from the southern branch of the peepal (or esathu) tree (Ficus religiosa) in whose shade the Buddha achieved enlightenment.  This branch was brought to Sri Lanka from India in 236 BC by the Buddhist nun Sanghamitta Maha Theri, through the patronage of King Ashoka, a convert and powerful supporter of Buddhism – she is often referred to as his daughter, and accordingly, as a princess.  So, the Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi is around 2,250 years old and from that origin has been steadfastly curated and protected by Buddhist monks and adherents.  Such devotion to a tree deserves contemplation – certainly the tree is approached with piety for its connection with the Buddha but the tree is singular, and an individual in its own right.  The achievement in protecting the tree demonstrates what good people can do.

Buddha’s enlightenment dates from around the 5^th century BC and took place near the river Neranjana at Bodh Gaya in the Bihar State in northern India.  The peepal tree was already a place of devotion, and after the Buddha’s enlightenment became identified as the Bodhi tree and consequently a pilgrimage site during His lifetime.  Sanghamitta’s arboricultural endeavours turned out to be timely as subsequent arboricidal events show.  King Ashoka’s second wife, Tisayaraksita, jealous of her husband’s love for the Bodhi (or perhaps the nymphs she believed it harboured), had the tree pierced by poisonous mandu thorns.^[i]  Although the tree regenerated, Ashoka subsequently built a three meter high stone wall (- elephants particularly like them).  But within half a century the tree was destroyed by King Pushyamitra Shunga during his persecution of Buddhism.  The tree planted to replace the Bodhi, possibly at that stage a scion from the original, was destroyed at the beginning of the 7^th century AD – this time by King Sassanka.  Thus there is considerable doubt as to whether the present tree at Bodh Gaya is even a scion of the original Bodhi. Indeed, the present tree planted by Alexander Cunningham, a British archaeologist in 1881 most likely represents the successor of a long line of substitutions.  Such doubts over the provenance of the Bodhi tree at Bodh Gaya see the Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi at Anuradhapura viewed as the closest authentic link to the living Buddha and, consequently, as the preferred for scion wood for establishing the Bodhi trees that are now central to many Buddhist temples in Asia.

While the Bodhi tree is important to Buddhists, the tree that the Buddha chose to sit under was already a sacred tree in Hindu doctrine.  In the Bhagavad Gita the Lord Krishna declares that, ‘Of all the trees I am the peepal tree’ and the peepal is mentioned as one of the names of Lord Vishnu in the Vishnu Sahasramana.  In India sadhus choose them for meditation and many Hindus still practice pradakshina including circumambulation (meditative pacing) around peepal trees with an accompanying chant of ‘vriksha rajaya namah’ (‘salutation to the king of trees’).  So while the Buddha chose the peepal tree, perhaps the peepal tree might also have chosen the Buddha.

Sacred trees aren’t isolated to Hinduism and Buddhism in human history.  The earliest written chronicles including the Epic of Gilgamesh and the Bible record both the destruction and the planting of sacred groves.  Hiking in the Simien Mountains of Ethiopia the only stands of trees still remaining are such sacred groves, including the ‘church forests’ associated with Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo churches and monasteries.  In earlier times these sacred groves were revered by Agao pagans whose religious gatherings, sacrifices and burials were associated with the groves.  These groves were apparently adopted by early Christian, and later, Islamic converts.  The traditions associated with such groves are disappearing globally alongside the global destruction of forests and the globalisation of culture yet a profound truth in these relationships remains relevant.  Reuters journalist Dean Yates outlined his experiences following the development of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as a war correspondent.  While professional help has been critical to his recovery, Yates witnesses the solace provided by the ancient trees of the Tasmanian wilderness.  Trees play a critical role in food, water and climate security, but they also play a critical role in our spiritual wellbeing.  Our future depends on them.

Originally published in The Adelaide Review in January 2017 and on-line https://stephenjforbes.wordpress.com/2016/12/26/the-oldest-historical-tree-in-the-world/

---

Notes

^[i] Prof. B.M.P. Singhakumara, University of Sri Jayewardenepura observes that the madu thorn is found on the leaf bases of the cycad, Cycas circinalis, also known as Queen sago palm.  However, the nature of the mandu thorn is still obscure.

The rise of civilisation could be seen as a series of transformations when populations started to see the world through a different lens, leading to profound and permanent change. They are the transformations that have shaped the modern world such as: the Reformation, Enlightenment, Romantic Period or the spread of the major religions. Each of these transformations was reflected in a different form of garden and these are the existing and proposed gardens in the Hamilton Gardens collection. In our next talk, Peter Sergel will explain this concept in more detail.  

A copy of the book will be raffled at this talk and light refreshments served afterwards.

5.15 pm, 2nd May 2024, Hamilton Gardens Pavilion.

By Ian Duggan, Te Aka Mātuatua – School of Science, The University of Waikato

The hand push mower was invented in 1830, as a superior alternative to the labour-intensive scythe, and it was almost 100 years before the invention of the rotary motor mower. Through this time, mowers were typically propelled by a human, but occasionally other forms of horse-power have been utilised. This was the case at the Devonport Naval Base in Auckland in the early 1930s, from where various images appeared in the newspapers of their donkey driven lawn mower. 

“Only a few wild animals are now required at the Devonport naval base to constitute a menagerie”, reported the Auckland Star in February 1931, “for at present there are a donkey and a number of sheep in the yard, and a dog and some cats on the [H.M.S.] Philomel”^[i]

The H.M.S. Philomel, it must be noted – as she maintains a central role in this story – was a steam powered naval “Pearl Class cruiser”, commissioned in 1890 by the Royal Navy. In 1914, already aged and largely obsolete, she was loaned to New Zealand. By this stage, seven of the only eight other Pearl-Class cruisers ever constructed had already been sold for scrap. Despite this, during World War One, the Philomel became New Zealand’s first warship, performing convoy escort duties around the Pacific, and carried out operations in the Mediterranean against the Ottoman Turkish forces. In 1921 she was transferred to the Devonport Naval Base for service, with engines removed, serving as a stationary training ship.^[ii]

The donkey was a regular feature at naval base social events. For example, a “delightful party” was held in August 1931, when Commander E. L. Berthon and the officers of H.M.S. Philomel entertained about 100 children. “Donkey rides, a merry-go-round, games and many other amusements were provided by the ship’s crew for the entertainment of the little guests.”^[iii] At an event later in the month, the Herald suggests there may have been more than one donkey on the base: “outside two donkeys moved in treadmill fashion all the afternoon, taking tiny excursionists on sightseeing trips about the base”.^[iv] Nevertheless, at least one of these may have been a temporary visitor, as other contemporary reports seemingly relate to only a single donkey. Nevertheless, the use of a donkey was reported at similar events over several years. For example, in February 1932, around 1000 visitors attended a children’s party on the base, where Marine Miles was in charge of the donkey rides.^[v] Similar rides were noted at events in 1933^[vi] and 1934, also.^[vii]

But our interest here isn’t on children’s entertainment, but on the contribution of the Devonport donkey to garden history.  In November 1931, among the “News of the Day”, the Auckland Star reported under the heading, “Donkey Does His Bit”:

“Donkeys were common enough about Auckland some years ago, but to-day their braying is seldom heard. There is at Devonport, however, one donkey that not only interests young folk, but also earns his carrots. He is one of the mascots attached to the naval base, and this morning he might have been seen pulling the lawnmower which cuts the playing area on which the men of the squadron play their games. The donkey was acquired by an officer on H.M.S. Philomel, who has now returned to England, so it appears likely that the animal will spend the rest of its life at the navy yard”.^[viii]

In February 1932, a photograph appeared in the New Zealand Herald under the title, “The Navy Solves a Problem”, where “One of the trainees at the Devonport Naval Base calls in the services of a donkey to assist in cutting the lawn which forms part of the reserve”.^[ix] The remaining livestock quartered at the Naval Base at Devonport were soon after seriously depleted, with the entire naval flock of sheep, numbering three head, having disappeared due to not presenting a payable proposition – the flock were deemed “neither useful nor ornamental”. It was subsequently noted that “a somewhat temperamental donkey now grazes in solitary state on the playing fields at the base. The sheep, on the other hand, “were transported… to an unknown destination”, though it was stated that “it is understood that several needy families at Devonport were provided with enough fresh mutton for several meals”.^[x]

Further images followed. In September the same year, another came with the caption “Novel Motive Power for the Lawnmower at the Naval Base: A sailor mowing the lawn at the Devonport Naval Base yesterday with the aid the navy’s pet donkey”.^[xi]

A third image was published in March 1933, under the heading ‘A Naval Assistant’, with the byline: “The donkey at the Naval Base is a well-known figure and assists in keeping the lawns in perfect order”. It added an extra detail, “Note the shell used as a weight on the mower”.^[xii]

That the donkey was temperamental was echoed in a report on another Naval Base party in January 1934. While for the children that day was reported as “Joy Unbounded”, for the animal the Auckland Star noted: “The donkey, which usually draws the lawnmower on the recreation grounds, was used as a riding horse. The animal did not enjoy itself as much as the delighted children whom it carried. Still, it did not often refuse to go.”^[xiii] Covering the same event, the New Zealand Herald noted the variety of events on the day: “The youngsters were invited to throw tennis balls at the head of an able seaman clown in an endeavour to remove his hat. Further on the same youngsters were handed bricks which they were permitted to hurl at shelves of crockery… There were hoop-las and skittle alleys and a miniature rifle range for older boys”. The donkey was noted in this report also: “The division’s donkey, which occasionally provides the motive power for the lawnmower on the recreation grounds, was also pressed into service and donkey rides were a popular feature”.^[xiv] Following these three years of interest, however, the lawnmowing donkey apparently slipped into obscurity, presumably not ending up on the plates of the needy Devonport locals.

Interestingly, this donkey was not the first equine employed to mow the grass at the naval base. A decade earlier, in 1923, it was reported that the:

H.M.S. Philomel is probably the only ship in the Royal Navy that has a horse for a pet. If she went to sea there might be some difficulty about the horse, although there was a destroyer in the Mediterranean that carried a donkey. This animal, however, was signed on when it was a foal and it grew up on board, developing a fine set of sea legs and an astonishing capacity for rum. It could go down the gangway with the leave men and take its place in the picket boat as nimbly as the goat and some sailors aver that it could pull an oar. That however is another story.

The Philomel’s horse was won by a member of the crew in a half-crown raffle, and in the comfortable surroundings of the dockyard and football ground it has flourished exceedingly. A number of the men can now ride far better than any sailor should. The other day it was necessary to cut the grass on the football ground and the sailors thought their horse might lend a hand. Out of rope and canvas, something that resembled a set of harness was made and the animal was hitched to the mower. The rope reins, according to one sailor, were thick enough to moor a battleship. Three men undertook the mowing job. One held the mower handle and the reins, another had a whip and a third was on hand to give advice. Since joining the navy the horse has been given to understand that everything must be done “at the double,” so when the driver shouted “full steam ahead” and the others made encouraging sounds, he plunged into a gallop. “Hard astern,” or words to that effect came from the man giving advice, and the outfit was heaved to.

At this moment the ship’s goat, which sometimes is seen abroad with leave men, wearing a sailor’s jacket, took an interest in the proceedings. Possibly he made some sarcastic remarks to which the horse objected. At any rate the horse shied at the goat and it seemed that some grass would be cut very rapidly, but the driver pulled hard aport and once more saved the situation. The goat having been ordered off the parade in disgrace another attempt was made to mow the grass, but the horse refused to have anything more to do with the job. He would not move.

“I know what’s the matter,” said the driver, … “he’s out of his stride. He’s always galloped from his paddock and this time he was led. We’ll take him back, gallop him up and then see.” This was done and the horse was again hitched to the mower and he worked as pleasantly as possible. The driver’s reputation as a horseman is now high.^[xv]

---

References

[i] A Floating Aviary. Auckland Star, 12 February 1931, P8

[ii] HMS Philomel, NZ History website: https://nzhistory.govt.nz/war/hms-philomel

[iii] Social Gatherings. Auckland Star, 17 August 1931, P11

[iv] Thrilling Party. New Zealand Herald, 27 August 1931, P12

[v] Children’s Party. New Zealand Herald, 8 February 1932, P10

[vi] A Children’s Party. New Zealand Herald, 1 February 1933, P4

[vii] Auckland Star, 18 January 1934, P20

[viii] News of the Day. Auckland Star, 24 November 1931, P6

[ix] New Zealand Herald, 27 February 1932, PAGE 8

[x] Sheep-farming Venture. New Zealand Herald, 13 August 1932, P12

[xi] New Zealand Herald, 24 September 1932, P8

[xii] Auckland Star, 17 March 1933, P5

[xiii] Joy Unbounded. Auckland Star, 18 January 1934, P20

[xiv] Children’s Delights. New Zealand Herald, 18 January 1934, P10

[xv] BLUEJACKETS’ PETS. New Zealand Herald, 27 October 1923, P14

Hamilton Talk: ‘The Soldiers and the Olive Tree: An ANZAC Story’

Annette Bainbridge

21 March 2024, Chartwell Room, Hamilton Gardens

Talk begins at 5:15pm, $5 entry

Abstract:

This presentation covers the untold story of the New Zealand soldiers of World War Two and their emotional connection with the olive trees of the Mediterranean. Throughout the Syrian, Greek and Cretan campaigns, the New Zealand soldiers were exposed to a landscape covered with olive trees and groves. These trees provided shelter and cover from enemy fire as well as linking the ordinary soldiers with the symbolic role that the trees had played throughout history: from being a biblical sign of peace to representing victory for the soldiers of classical Greece and Rome. The New Zealanders established a deep attachment to this tree which would go on to see the olive grow in popularity as a nursery plant for New Zealand gardens in the post-war period and take its place in numerous war memorial gardens dedicated to the fallen of World War Two.

Biography:

Annette Bainbridge is an environmental and garden historian who has presented here in New Zealand, and overseas in Australia and the United Kingdom on 19th and 20th century history. She has contributed articles to the New Zealand Journal of History and the Australian Garden History Society’s regular journal. She holds a Masters in garden history from the University of Waikato, and is currently completing a PhD on the role of colonial women in New Zealand’s environmental history through Victoria University of Wellington. She is a member of the Garden History Research Foundation based at the Hamilton Gardens.

by Mike Lloyd, Victoria University of Wellington (mike.lloyd@vuw.ac.nz)

In the usual process of landscaping, buildings come first and then trees, shrubs and lawns are planted afterwards to beautify a site.  Given enough time the two elements appear as a natural unity. That is, traces of both the construction of a building and the design and planting of a garden may disappear, and the two look as if they have always been together.  That said, trees can be removed or pruned as they grow too large (or for other reasons), and change can also occur on the building side of the equation.  Buildings can be extended, fall into disrepair or be removed, raising the question of the fate of the trees that were formerly in unity with the building. Bowring has called trees which survive disaster ‘survivor trees’^[i], arguing that the ‘sticky affect’ of such trees is because of a significantly changed context: terrorist attacks, earthquakes, bombs, war, and tsunamis dramatically alter whole landscapes, meaning that a tree that survives such calamities can become very notable.  There are well-known examples of survivor trees, but here I wish to adapt this logic and consider more prosaic, mundane cases of survivorship.  In researching Phoenix palms in New Zealand, I have become aware of interesting cases of palms that remain when the buildings they were first associated with have been removed.  By using visual resources we can get a feel for these trees, thinking about their place in the landscape and the meanings they invoke.

At the back of an old building

Figure 1 shows before and after details of a Phoenix palm in the Cuba Street precinct of Wellington. Panel 1 shows the heritage listed Toomath’s Building on Ghuznee Street just before the intersection with Wellington’s famous Cuba St.  Over 100 years old, it had been empty since 2019, due to designation as a quake-prone building.  As the Google Map view of Panel 2 shows, at the back of the building was a Phoenix palm growing up against the property’s boundary.  Its location right on the boundary suggested it may not have been a planned planting; overall it seemed ‘punky’, both because it had a certain rude good health, and because of the derelict and graffitied building right next to it.  The palm could be clearly seen from the small Cuba Street carpark at the back of the building, adding to its public visibility.  Unlike Auckland^[ii], Wellington has an absence of Phoenix palms in the central city area, with the nearest palms being one on the Terrace, and two at Government House^[iii].  Consequently, even though relatively young – about 25 years from its size – the palm had a certain presence in the Cuba St precinct.  As panels 5 and 6 show, however, this presence did not ensure survival.  On October 15 2023 a fire broke out and gutted the building; demolition of the building began within days, and the clearance of the site was total.^[iv]  Even though the palm was in a place – the boundary of the section – where it could have been left to grow, the demolition of the building extended to the removal of the palm.  This removal may have something to do with a desire to maximise building space, and the fact that it was a solo tree.  Perhaps if it was an older, and bigger palm, more thought would have been given to preservation. That is, both size and the length of historical association with a site may have saved it.

Next to an old hotel

Similar to Wellington, there are very few Phoenix palms in central Christchurch, though this may have more to do with Christchurch’s hard winter frosts leading to an assumption that palms will not grow there.  From its size, the single palm seen in Figure 2 was probably planted circa 1975, a long time after the building of the Excelsior Hotel in 1864^[v], the façade of which can be seen in Panel 1.  It was a listed heritage building, which is why attempts were made to save the façade after it sustained considerable earthquake damage.  However, these proved unsuccessful and the remnants were finally demolished in April 2016, leaving the palm as the sole survivor on the Hotel site (it used to be beside an outdoor seating area).  Indications are that as a new building goes up next to the palm, where the demolished Excelsior Hotel used to stand, the size and form of the palm will be appreciated.  In contrast to the previous example then, this has become a survivor tree appreciated in itself, but also having the potential to act as a reminder of the demolished Excelsior Hotel (visual records^[vi] exist which show both the building and the palm).

Bordering a funeral home and a petrol station

As Figure 3 shows, this example takes us from solo palms to a larger cluster, which may favour preservation rather than removal.  Panels 1 and 2 show a building known as ‘Libertyland’, an ‘unmissable landmark’ of Palmerston North during almost 70 years of operation as a clothing factory employing up to 80 staff.^[vii]  As the early aerial photo shows, it was originally an imposing art deco building on the outskirts of the city.  As an estimate, the Phoenix palms were planted around the building about 1955, adding to an existing number of well-known clusters in Palmerston North.^[viii]  As the Bayleys Real Estate photo shows, as the palms grew in size they nicely complemented the lines of the art deco building.^[ix]  The palms were included in the Palmerston North District register of notable trees, indicating public appreciation, which also applied to the building, but in the latter case, due to the high cost of earthquake strengthening work, it was demolished in 2012.^[x]  After demolition and sale, the first replacement building was for Lychgate Funeral, followed by a Waitomo petrol station.  Obviously, this has meant that the previous ‘natural affinity’ between the art deco Libertyland building and the palms has gone, but given there is no guarantee of even registered notable trees being retained, we should be grateful only one palm was lost in placing the new buildings on the site.  Of course, when people fill their car with petrol or go to a funeral, they probably do not deeply reflect on the trees that surround them. Nevertheless, a cluster of 70 year old Phoenix palms does stand out as relatively significant.  In response to this possible incongruity, the question may arise of what a cluster of Phoenix palms is doing beside a funeral home and a petrol station. This could easily be answered by the placing of an information board on the site, but if other examples are anything to go by, these tend to focus on buildings and material structures, being less inclined towards noting the associations between buildings and trees.

On the way to the (derelict) freezing works

The 1949 aerial photo in Figure 4 shows the northern part of Tokomaru Bay, giving a good indication of the significant size of the freezing works, wharf, and Shipping Company building.  It also shows that in terms of trees and vegetation the site was relatively bare at this time.  However, this was all about to change.  As reported in the Gisborne Herald, ‘Reporting to the August meeting of the Tokomaru Bay Harbour Board held recently at Te Puia, the harbourmaster, Captain P. W. C. McCallum, said that considerable progress had been made on the beautification scheme at Waima agreed to by the board. The ground between the harbourmaster’s residence and the freezing works, seaward of the main road was bulldozed and levelled, and a manuka shelter frame erected. The area, after cleaning was sown in grass, 12 Phoenix palms and other ornamental shrubs planted, and a strong fence erected the whole length of the road.’^[xi] As we can see by the bottom two panels, the Phoenix palms’ trajectory from here on was literally upwards – at 75 years old they are now an impressive sight, providing a distinct tropical island landscape on the drive towards the wharf.  The same cannot be said of the freezing works, which closed in July 1952.  For about 40 years the works had been the central employer in Tokomaru Bay supporting both permanent staff and a seasonal workforce, to such an extent that the community fielded its own rugby team and supported a theatre.^[xii] Only about 400 people now live in Tokomaru Bay, and the derelict freezing works has become a small tourist attraction for those that take the no-exit route off the main highway.  Passing the Shipping Company building (to the right of the circled area in Panel 1), a Heritage Trails plaque gives details of the Freezing Works and its history; it is then a short drive past the twelve Phoenix palms to the derelict works and still functioning wharf.  In this case, the incongruity noted above between a cluster of palms and a petrol station is not so apparent. Nonetheless, the palms receive no mention in the plaque, even though their planting to beautify the area was intimately connected with the main industry of the area. So, the palms are an interesting survival and historical marker.  Whereas post-1950, Phoenix palms continued to be planted throughout New Zealand, the peak period for group-planting was in the prior 30 years; the Gisborne-East Coast meat-freezing industry was also about to undergo a significant decline about this time.^[xiii]  But buildings can deteriorate rapidly – see the aerial view of the freezing works – so this means that unless a tree or palm is chopped down, its continued growth can be consulted as an historical reminder of past activities.  A cluster of Phoenix palms just seemed to go with the Libertyland art deco building; a cluster of palms similarly seemed to fill the need to beautify the Tokomaru Bay freezing works site. Other trees could have been chosen, but just then in the late 1940s to 1950s Phoenix palm clusters still had currency as a suitable plant to ‘go with’ buildings and activities of social significance.

Acknowledgements:

Thanks to: Doc Ross for permission to reproduce his 2011 image of the old Excelsior Hotel; to Phil Braithwaite for permission to use ‘Excelsior Façade’ photo; to Dudley Meadows of Tairawhiti Museum for the historic photo of the Tokomaru Bay Freezing Works.

References

[i] Bowring, J. 2019, ‘Survivor trees: Spectrality and stickiness’, Fabrications, 29(1): 21-36.

[ii] See Lloyd 2023 ‘The significant phoenix palms of central Auckland’, at: https://gardenhistoryresearchfoundation.com/2023/12/13/the-significant-phoenix-palms-of-central-auckland/

[iii] Planted in 1936, the pair are amongst the oldest Phoenix palms in Wellington.  See New Zealand Tree Register, https://register.notabletrees.org.nz/tree/view/1889

[iv] ‘Neighbour of demolished Toomath’s Building concerned his building now at risk’, The Post, November 13, 2023.

[v] ‘Excelsior Hotel’, canterburystories.nz, available at: https://canterburystories.nz/exhibitions/places-christchurch-buildings/excelsior-hotel

[vi] Searching DigitalNZ for ‘Excelsior Hotel’ will give over 100 results.

[vii] Tina White, ‘Behind the scenes of a fixture in the city landscape’, Manawatu Standard, April 7, 2018.

[viii] Most well known is the double avenue in the Esplanade, but there are also clusters in Fitzherbert Avenue, the CET Arena, and at Awapuni Racecourse (see New Zealand Tree Register entries).

[ix] It is not just art deco buildings that Phoenix palms go well with.  There is a longstanding association between Spanish mission architecture and the palm – see the example of Stanford University (https://trees.stanford.edu/ENCYC/PHOca.htm), and in New Zealand the 106 year old palm in front of Auckland Grammar School main building (https://register.notabletrees.org.nz/tree/view/1946).

[x] White, 2018, cited above.

[xi] ‘Beautification plan begun at Waima: Harbour work’, Gisborne Herald, 26 August, 1949, p. 4.

[xii] See Gundry, S. Making a Killing: A history of the Gisborne-East Coast freezing works industry, 2004, Gisborne: Tairawhiti Museum.

[xiii] Gundry, 2004, cited above.

by Ian Duggan, Te Aka Mātuatua – School of Science, The University of Waikato

Much was written in the newspapers about the 1928 visit to New Zealand by Dr. Arthur William Hill, the Director of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. As covered in Part 1 of this blog, there was an outcry in Dunedin at not being a destination in his initial travel itinerary, and further provincialism came to the fore in his push for a National Botanic Garden of New Zealand. In this blog, we look at how Hill’s opposition to a road on Rangitoto Island stirred up emotions in Auckland. Hill’s visit to Auckland was brief, spanning only the 5^th and 6^th of February 1928, and his visit to Rangitoto Island was even shorter – totalling an hour. But that hour led to much debate in New Zealand’s newspapers.

A Road on Rangitoto

The construction of a road on Rangitoto was put forward at a meeting of the Devonport Borough Council in February 1925, when business of the Rangitoto Domain Board was discussed, three years prior to Hill’s visit. It was proposed that the construction of a road should encircle the base of Rangitoto, thereby opening up parts of the island that at the time were inaccessible^[i]. Cost, however, was an immediate issue, though plans were made to circumvent this problem:

“Ample material is available on the island for road construction, and the principal cost would be the labour. Although the Domain Board has a substantial credit balance, it would not be sufficient to undertake the outlay. The Minister for Justice is to be communicated with asking that a prison camp be established on the island and prison labour used for constructing the road”.^[ii]

Soon after, a visit was paid to the island by officials of the Prisons Department, including the Inspector-General of Prisons. The roadway was proposed to commence at the wharf and skirt the base of the island to beyond Rangitoto Beacon, from where a road would be continued up the side of the island to connect with an existing track leading to the summit. The Inspector-General stated that he was favourably impressed with the proposal and he would submit his recommendation to the Minister for Justice, Sir James Parr.^[iii]

In June, “after long and careful consideration”, Parr agreed that the road could be made by employing a gang of short-sentence prisoners. “The proposed road,” said Sir James, “will be six miles in length, and will be suitable for both pedestrian and motor traffic. When completed it should prove of very great benefit to the citizens of Auckland, and to the community generally, as it will provide easy access to a vantage point from which a magnificent view of the Waitemata, the city and its environs, and a wonderful land and seascape eastward is obtainable”. Further, “the work would provide for relieving overcrowding in prisons in Auckland, and a means of most usefully employing well behaved prisoners, whose sentences were too short to warrant their being sent to one of the Prisons Department farms”. He continued, “The scheme is rendered particularly suitable for the employment of prisoners… by reason of the fact that owing to the isolated locality of the work, the men will be far removed from the public gaze… A gang of some twenty prisoners will be employed on the job, maintained… by the Prisons’ Department”.^[iv]

Questions were quickly raised about the scheme by the New Zealand Herald, however: “But are the board and the Minister quite certain that the building of a road to the top of Rangitoto is the best way of using the prison labour which the Minister proposes to supply? After the road has been made, how are the motors to reach it? …The great majority of people will regard the whole undertaking as a ridiculous extravagance. If more prison labour is available than can be usefully employed on tree-planting, sawmilling and land development, surely the department can find work for it more urgent and necessary than the roading of Rangitoto Island. There are hundreds of miles of national highways whose needs are clamant, and the employment of prison labour upon them… would be vastly more sensible than using it to provide an inaccessible highway for an entirely illusory motor traffic to the top of Rangitoto.”^[v]

The Auckland Star presented similar views: “But to go to the trouble and expense of making a motor road on this island, which can be reached by motorists only after a long trip on a ferry steamer, is one of the wildest proposals we remember… The delights of the Waitakeres, for example, need better roads to make them accessible to Aucklanders, and those wonderful hills have the advantage over Rangitoto of being connected with the city by land”.^[vi]

In a letter to the Auckland Star, an AJ Nagle agreed: “Many thanks for your leader protesting against a motor road to be constructed on Rangitoto. One half of the charm of that unique island is due to the fact that whilst there, one is out of sight and sound of the ubiquitous motor, and I think many people will fail to see how its attractions are to be increased by the introduction of these odorous juggernauts. The Minister concerned in the matter, naively remarked that the proposed road would be for the benefit of pedestrians as well as motorists. As the present track to the summit is some two miles in length, and the new road is to lie six miles long, it is obvious that the road is worthless to those who venture afoot”.^[vii]

Others, however, were for the scheme: “I was glad to see in my “Star” to-day that the Government is going to build a fine road up to the summit of beautiful Rangitoto”, wrote Mr. JA Lee of Auckland East”.^[viii]

The Minister for Justice, Sir James Parr, was surprised by criticisms of the scheme. “Really, I fail to see why anyone should wish to make fun of a road on Rangitoto… It is easy to say that the road will be of no use for motor-cars… but what about motor-buses running from Rangitoto Wharf to the summit? When there is a fine road six miles long, with perhaps a rest house and tea kiosk at the summit, there will be no better holiday resort near Auckland. Imagine a broad level road running round the shore from the wharf to the beacon, with pretty seaside cottages dotted along it… To say that the men could be better employed in improving roads in the Waitakare Ranges did not affect the question at all. The roads in the ranges were controlled by local authorities with rates at their disposal, and the Auckland City Council, which held large areas of land there, should be well able to contribute to the upkeep. Rangitoto was vested in a body which had almost no funds and the work would be entirely for the benefit of the public in general”. He felt sure that the people of Auckland would fully appreciate the value of the road when it was completed.^[ix]

It was decided that fourteen prisoners – only short-sentence, good conduct men – would be employed, and they would be in the charge of a warder. Further, the usual prison clothing would be dispensed with. No material other than that which is available on the island would be required for the road construction, where “scoria boulders and the finest gravel is available in any quantity, and sand and shell for binding will be taken from the beach”.^[x]

In November, the prisoners – nicknamed ‘the Handy Dozen’ – were on their way. They were, it was reported, “paradoxical as it may appear, a very decent-looking dozen. Giving them a casual glance, one would not dream that they were any but an ordinary working gang about ships, unless it was that they appeared to work with more than usual energy. But a Sherlock Holmes would have had his suspicions aroused by the sign of the broad arrow, stamped on the seat of one man’s trousers — the mark of the convict”. “These men were a selected dozen of the good conduct prisoners at Mount Eden… They had arrived at the wharf at an early hour in the morning, quietly and unostentatiously, in one of the covered-in conveyances provided by His Majesty for the transportation of his compulsory guests. Prisoners have feelings, as well as other humans more fortunate, and the gaol officials took every care that they should not be paraded in the public eye. True, the men were passed on the wharf by crowds from the ferry steamer, but they were hurrying crowds, and if some among them did cast a glance at the workers in dungarees and moleskins (not stamped with the broad arrow), it was doubtful if any guessed at their identity”. It was reported that “there is no fear on the part of the officials that the men will misbehave, but a definite scheme of signalling and communication has been arranged in case of sickness or insubordination, and should anything go wrong, assistance from the mainland will be available in a very short time.”^[xi]

In January of 1926, the road “had not yet progressed 200 yds.” [~180 m], but “if a proposal to double the gang now at work is made effective, the road should be completed in well under two years”, reported the Herald. “It will have no grade exceeding one in twenty, so that motor-buses will be able to make the climb at a good pace”. Concerned about visitors to the island, “A notice warns picnic parties that the place is a prison reserve”. The prisoners were housed “in three neat wooden huts, each containing four bunks, with spring mattresses, also a table and two stools. The men work eight and a-half hours a day. They are given a special extra ration of tobacco, making two ounces a week instead of one. Several Devonport people have sent over books to form a small library for their use.”^[xii]

Despite the men being selected as good conduct prisoners, two of them, 23-year-old 6ft Charles Wahle – serving two years for forgery and uttering – and 33-year-old Samuel Rattray, 5ft, 8in – undergoing one year’s reformative detention on charges of forgery – “bid a midnight escape, a bright moon assisting them in finding a 12 ft dinghy, which they fitted with a motor from a nearby boat.^[xiii],[xiv] They were soon recaptured, however, on nearby Waiheke Island.^[xv]

By September 1926, about twenty prisoners are employed on the island: “Great quantities of explosives have been used to break down the solid rock on the island. Most of this work occurred near the landing-stage, where the existing track was widened to form the promenade and from the effect of the explosions the tea kiosk did not escape undamaged”.^[xvi] Further, August 1927, it was reported that two men were killed and a number injured in a premature blasting explosion.^[xvii]

Hill’s Auckland and Rangitoto Visit

Early in 1928, Arthur Hill visited Auckland, and his whirlwind tour included a trip to Rangitoto Island, Kauri bush in the Waitakere Ranges – which he was impressed by – and Chelsea.^[xviii] It was in Auckland that he made his first acquaintance with Kauri in its natural surroundings: “It is a grand thing that these magnificent trees should be so close to your city”, he stated. “There is a kauri 40ft high growing under glass at Kew and some small specimens flourish out of doors in south-west England”.

It was with his visit to Rangitoto, however, where controversy reared its head. Hill certainly didn’t start the fire, as we saw above, but he did re-add petrol to the flames. In the course of his Rangitoto visit Hill displayed a special interest in the kidney ferns growing in places that were not especially well shaded. Overall, he thought the plant life as a whole was most interesting.^[xix] Nevertheless, he paid particular attention to the road, which was said to displease him greatly. He remarked that Rangitoto was probably unique in the world because, “as a volcano fairly recently extinct it had been colonised by plants under most interesting conditions”. As such, he believed it should be preserved as a plant sanctuary with as little disturbance as possible. Of particular concern, he was of the opinion that if it were made into a holiday resort, “all kinds of weeds were bound to find their way in”. Dr. Hill was welcomed to the island by Mr. T Walsh, representing the Rangitoto Island Domain Board. Walsh noted that in recognising that the island was unique in its botany, the board was preserving as much of it as they could as a sanctuary for native plants and native birds. Further, he argued that the island was a public domain, and that the best way to preserve it was to make a road from which the public would not wish to deviate. Prominent New Zealand botanist, Dr. Leonard Cockayne, who accompanied Hill through his New Zealand tour, agreed, expressing the opinion that it was best for the board to make a good road and a play area for the public. If this were done, he proposed that the public would be less likely to get among the plants.^[xx]

Hill’s opinions continued to be published over the following days. The Sun reported that Dr. Hill declared the road work on the island as “a desecration of nature’s handiwork”, rather than a benefit to the community. “A rest house at the foot, and a good track to the summit would be sufficient”, Hill thought.^[xxi]

The New Zealand Hearld, who were the first to report disapproval several years earlier, noted that “when the proposal of a motor traffic road on Rangitoto was first mooted, some opposition was raised regarding the road being unnecessary and of its imperilling the unique character of the island, though this protest aroused little visible support”. They continued that Aucklanders “had permitted the volcanic cones of this neighbourhood to be terribly marred by commercial spoliation, and [had] been largely indifferent to unsightly treatment of the waterfront. The thought of injury [to] Rangitoto has apparently been given no serious heed”. Dr. Hill’s words, they reported, “should stab the city broad awake. What he saw on his visit to the island yesterday moved him to vigorous protest. Rangitoto, in his opinion, is probably unique… The New Zealand botanists sharing the visit to the island endorse his opinion. When so renowned an authority as the Director of Kew Gardens speaks so emphatically, it behoves all citizens to give heed. Motorists will suffer no serious disability if the pleasure of an easy drive to the summit of Rangitoto is denied them… If to open a motor-traffic road on Rangitoto is to destroy the characteristic interest of the island, as Dr. Hill so plainly states, then it certainly ought not to be done… Auckland citizens as a body should be wise enough and vigorous enough to put an end to the menace that has called forth Dr. Hill’s warning.”^[xxii]

As with the earlier rounds of debate, Hill’s comments did draw opposition. In an article in Auckland’s Sun Newspaper, one writer stated: “As a scientist in principle and in profession Dr. Hill naturally found Rangitoto Island a realm of curious phenomena, attracting his professional interest. But his suggestions that it, too, should be reserved as a plant sanctuary will not meet with undivided support from the city. There are many arguments against the introduction of motor-cars to Rangitoto. Its mystery and remoteness might at first seem to be destroyed at once by such an invasion. But there are equally strong arguments the other way. Motors and a motor road would permit many elderly or infirm people to reach the summit and revel in the glorious panorama of the gulf, instead of staying below in fear of the laborious walk up the scoria track. It has yet to be shown that a road to the summit would in any way mar the symmetry of Rangitoto’s gentle slope. As for making the place a sanctuary—one island, Motuihi [sic], is already, closed to the public. And one is enough.”^[xxiii]

Interestingly, many of the opposing comments seemed to go beyond what Hill had even suggested – inferring that he had called for Rangitoto to be free of humans altogether. Referencing Hill, Sir. E. Aldridge, chairman of the Rangitoto Island Domain Board, stated: “It is hardly a fair proposition for a man to spend an hour at Rangitoto and then advocate shutting it off from the public forever”. Aldridge had been unable to visit the island with Hill and the official accompanying party, but the board was represented by Mr. T. Walsh. Walsh reaffirmed that Dr. Hill was on the island barely an hour, and the whole of that time he was occupied in viewing and discussing botanical subjects. He went on to declare that “Dr. Hill was quite ignorant of local conditions. It is now too late to make Rangitoto a sanctuary, because it has been open for the past 80 years”. Walsh further added the island had always been open to boatmen and the Harbour Board worked a large quarry there. In addition, there was now a settlement and a school on the island, while twice within his memory the island had been swept by fire. Even if it were desirable to make Rangitoto a sanctuary, he was of opinion it would not be possible: “They would have to provide a large guard to prevent people landing there”. Another, unnamed, member of the board was equally as scathing, stating, “These were chance remarks made by a man who had not enough time to know the facts”. Yet another said he was quite sure that by building a road on the island they were opening it up for the great benefit for the people, not only of Auckland, but also of the whole of New Zealand, and overseas tourists. A Mr. J Brown declared that the area to be taken up by the road would only be “a drop in the ocean” compared with the area of the island. Other printed dissenting comments included, “We do not want to take notice of criticism such as this”, and, “The proportion of people interested in botany is very small”.^[xxiv]

Following these criticisms, others came out in support of Hill. The Curator of the Auckland Museum, Mr. Gilbert Archey, was “in hearty accord” with the opinion expressed by Hill that Rangitoto should be kept as a reserve on account of the extreme importance of its flora: “He knows that once these plants are destroyed they can never be replaced”. “He does not look upon such an area from a social, or sports, point of view. He regards it purely in the light of its value to the world of learning. Personally, I think Dr. Hill is quite right”, he added.”^[xxv]

In a letter titled Rangitoto Spoilation, JA James of Devonport wrote that Hill’s condemnation of the roading of Rangitoto “is only what may be expected from any man having… a regard of Nature’s marvellous handiwork”. He also acknowledged the Herald’s comments on the little support given to the opposition raised at the time the motor road was first mooted: “As one who then protested, I was amazed at the lack of interest in protecting this unique natural heritage from such vandalism. There certainly is no need for such a road, and the bare thought of motors on Rangitoto should be utterly repugnant to anyone in his right senses. I trust, now that this spoliation has been again brought under public notice, action will be immediately taken to stop the work. The portion of road already made will remain a ghastly monument to the crass ignorance of its originators. All we want on Rangitoto is a walking track to the summit. No vehicle of any description should be allowed. Wake up Auckland and save Rangitoto. Given a motor road, and the consequent vehicular ferry, and you have committed irreparable vandalism.^[xxvi]

A few days later, Hill departed the country. In some parting statements, he defensively responded to the press reports. He noted that when he had “mildly suggested” that in view of the unique character of the island and its flora such a road was unwarranted he was “hauled over the coals” by the local Press, and told he should not have the temerity to criticise after an hour’s visit to the island: “A botanist could see, after a ten minutes visit, that such a road would inevitably mean the introduction to the island of a miscellaneous collection of weeds, and then gone would be the uniqueness of the island”. He maintained his opinion on this point. He reiterated that Rangitoto should be left to the pedestrian and to nature.^[xxvii] “I still stick to my guns on this point: there are many other hills around Auckland much more suitable for a motor road: Rangitoto should be left to the pedestrian and Nature”.^[xxviii]

The Road Post Hill’s Visit

Ultimately, the road construction was completed despite the furore. Some modifications needed to be made, however. In May 1928, Mr. Aldridge announced that it would not be possible to construct the motor road to the summit of the cone owing to the nature of the soil: “It will go, however, as far as the saddle.”^[xxix] Aldridge added, “The ground is very soft, and the grade is so great that with wet weather or heavy traffic the road would slip badly. However, we can take the road up to the saddle without much difficulty, and there will not be a great climb from there.”^[xxx]

In August 1928, it was optimistically stated that the completion of the road to the summit was expected to take another six months.^[xxxi] Fast forward two years, and it was announced on 10 July 1930 that the new scenic route was to be opened the following Saturday. It was also noted that the road that should last, in the opinion of the authorities, “for all time”.^[xxxii] This opening estimate, too, was still getting ahead of itself, as 12 July was actually the day the road was inspected by members of the Domain Board; the date of the opening of the road had not yet been decided.^[xxxiii] The inspection party left the city by the ferry steamer Condor, and was conveyed over the new road in a fleet of nine “baby” cars. Islington Bay was reached “after a few minutes run over a fine scoria-surfaced carriageway, the distance from the wharf being about three miles”. The party then travelled over the crest of the mountain. Excellent work was said to have been done and it was hoped that it would be ready for public use by the end of the year.^[xxxiv] By October 1930, arrangements had been made to start a bus service on the island, and the first vehicle to cater for visitors was shipped there by one of the vehicular ferries.^[xxxv] The bus service started soon thereafter. Today, a tractor powered ‘road train’, the Rangitoto Island Volcanic Explorer, still uses the road.

Acknowledgements

Cover image by Bruce Hayward, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

---

References

[i] Rangitoto Island. New Zealand Herald, 19 February 1925, P7

[ii] Rangitoto Island. New Zealand Herald, 19 February 1925, P7

[iii] Road on Rangitoto. New Zealand Herald, 3 April 1925, P10

[iv] Rangitoto Island. Auckland Star, 27 July 1925, P9

[v] Roading Rangitoto. New Zealand Herald, 28 July 1925, P8

[vi] Motors on Rangitoto. Auckland Star, 28 July 1925, P6

[vii] Motoring on Rangitoto. Auckland Star, 30 July 1925, P10

[viii] Auckland Star, 29 July 1925, P9

[ix] The Rangitoto Road. New Zealand Herald, 1 August 1925, P12

[x] Developing Rangitoto. New Zealand Herald, 13 August 1925, P11

[xi] Rangitoto. Auckland Star, 26 November 1925, P10

[xii] Developing Rangitoto. New Zealand Herald, 7 January 1926, P10

[xiii] At Liberty. Auckland Star, 2 February 1926, P5

[xiv] Prisoners Escape. New Zealand Herald, 3 February 1926, P12

[xv] Short-Lived Freedom. Auckland Star, 6 February 1926, P10

[xvi] Road on Rangitoto. New Zealand Herald, 27 September 1926, P11

[xvii] Two Prisoners Killed In Quarry Explosion. Star (Christchurch), 19 August 1927, P5

[xviii] Auckland Star, 6 February 1928, P5

[xix] Unique in the World. Auckland Star, 7 February 1928, P8

[xx] Unique in the World. Auckland Star, 7 February 1928, P8

[xxi] The Voice of Nature. Sun (Auckland), 7 February 1928, P8

[xxii] Preserving Rangitoto. New Zealand Herald, 7 February 1928, P8

[xxiii] Sun (Auckland), 7 February 1928, P8

[xxiv] Rangitoto’s Destiny. New Zealand Herald, 9 February 1928, P11

[xxv] Saving Plant Life of Rangitoto Island, Sun (Auckland), 13 February 1928, PAGE 1

[xxvi] Rangitoto Spoilation. New Zealand Herald, 10 February 1928, P14

[xxvii] What are “Reserved”? Auckland Star, 14 February 1928, P9

[xxviii] Evening Post, 14 February 1928, P10

[xxix] Table Talk. Auckland Star, 24 May 1928, P1

[xxx] Road on Rangitoto. New Zealand Herald, 24 MAY 1928, P10

[xxxi] Roads on Rangitoto. New Zealand Herald, 6 August 1928, P11

[xxxii] News of the Day. Auckland Star, 10 July 1930, P6

[xxxiii] News of the Day. Auckland Star, 11 July 1930, P6

[xxxiv] New Scenic Drive. New Zealand Herald, 14 July 1930, P6

[xxxv] News of the Day. Auckland Star, 24 October 1930, P6