| Page | Text |
| 1 | From the sea to the west and the river port of Foxton, there stretched for some 12 miles, sand dunes and pines; dairying sunlit rolling pastures; flax swamps and native bush - with the mighty Manawatu meandering through,- to the foothills above Shannon, of the Tararua mountain range, "the purple-headed mountains" of my childhood - and now always "The Blue Remembered Hills". Within these wonderful environs was my playground, our beautiful farm of some 240 acres, fIaxmill, homestead, an area of native bush, several acres of orchard, flax swamp, and pasture for about 100 cows, pigs and a few sheep, situated on an inside bend, i.e .the N.W. bank of, and bounded to a consider-, able extent by the Manawatu River, at a distance of two miles from the young town of Shannon. The homestead overlooked the river, at about 200 yards from the main Shannon-Foxton road and the approach to the first bridge under construction. It is of interest that the house, inherited from my Grandparents, was in the style of a Suffolk farmhouse of two storeys, and four bedrooms, built of timber construction. It must have been unique in those days as practically all houses were of a simple local single storey design. Unfortunatey it was burned to the ground in 1910 and sadly no photographs have been found, nor is there any record of who conceived the idea of a Suffolk style. It was into this home that I was born on Tuesday the 30th of October 1906, by way of Nurse Linton's hospital in Palmerston North, ably assisted by our family doctor, Dr A A Martin. Was I "Tuesday's Child of Grace"? - according to a record by my Father at the time - "Seems a healthy well developed boy of 8lbs weight". |
| 2 | Dr Martin had always been a part of the family folklore. Two years later he saved my life by skilful surgery and later in 1912 he removed my appendix. He was always more interested in receiving a case of green apples than in prompt payment of his bill! He was well known in New Zealand as one of the three top surgeons and the author of "A Surgeon in Khaki"; and sadly he was killed on active service in France during the First World War. In Palmerston North he is remembered by a street named after him. Later, in 1942 I was moved by seeing his name on the Roll of Honour of Edinburgh University. When I was baptised the intention was that my name should be Melville, a family name from Kirriemuir, Scotland, but in deference to the wishes of my Welsh Grandfather Saunders, who was born in Llangarron, on the Welsh border near Ross-on-Wye, the last minute decision was Mervyn, which in my teen-age school days I dropped in favour of my first name, James. A second cousin was Melville Lawry. As I grew and developed a marked trait in my make-up appeared - a high degree of mischievousness, which no doubt gave me great pleasure - surely the confirmation of the doctrine of "Original Sin"! There was an occasion when my Grandmother, in spite of warnings, insisted on having me to stay for a few days. However, I was back home within 24 hours. I had scrambled in my way, one day's collection of eggs; picked all her green tomatoes; run riot with a pot of red paint, and flooded her kitchen floor! My beloved Uncle Norman used to say I should have a spanking whenever I was seen. If I was not coming out of, I must be going into mischief! Then, when apprehended, he would grab me and say "Mervyn, we men must stick together"! There is more to tell. |
| 3 | A vague memory of those days, was of dear Mammy Barnes, the Negress wife of a Mr Barnes who was in charge of the cookhouse and sleeping accommodation for some of the flax-mill workers before the new bridge was completed. She made a great fuss of me, and I was sometimes entrusted to her care. I am not aware of how I reacted to the arrival of baby sister Lorraine, •when I was nearly 3 years. I am sure I was pleased with my baby sister. Lorraine's feelings were from affection for her big brother to letting it be known whom she thought was boss! On one occasion she was found sitting on me with my back pinned to the floor, thumping me on the chest! "The Female of the Species is Fiercer than I,. Then in 1909 disaster struck. Our home was burned to the ground. It happened in the early evening, while Lorraine was being bathed; I was left in front of the fire in the dining room, where I with my future engineering bent, decided to investigate the mechanics of the kerosene tablelamp - or as would have been unkindly said, fiddled! and probably knocked the lamp over. I remember the dark red decor, rather Victorian, and seeing the curtains aflame. I also remember clearly lying in the field nearby, wrapped in rugs with Lorraine and seeing the house engulfed in flames. A new attractive and comfortable house of timber construction, with 4 bedrooms and a lay-out to my Mother's design was soon built and we were certainly well settled in our new home by or before 1912. Various events of 1912 stand out in my memory. My Grandmother, whom I remember in her black dress and bonnet, typical dress of elderly ladies in those days, died; also the sad news of the sinking of the Titanic and the terrible loss of life; and being rushed off to hospital, now Nurse Robey's for my appendix operation by Dr Martin. There were pleasant aspects of the 3 weeks stay, and I remember Nurse Robey as a tall buxom kindly woman. |
| 4 | By 1912, soon after reaching 5 years, my schooling had started at the 2-roomed, 2-teacher Moutua school about 1i miles along the lonely Foxton road. There were some 20 to 30 country children and the head teacher was Mr Jimmie Gilland. My outstanding early memories were dabbling in a box of water-colour paints and love of drawing railway engines and boats, and my fascination with painting a sprig of hawthorne with its red berries. Before I had reached 8 years, the First World War had broken out on the 4th of August 1914, and a picture of New Zealand's gift to the Royal Navy, HMS New Zealand was placed on the classroom wall. At this point, it is appropriate to record an anecdote of the time. When HMS New Zealand visited New Zealand in 1912, her Commander, Admiral Halsey, was presented with a cloak of Kiwi feathers, and. promised if his ship ever went into action, he would don this cloak. In fact this was to be the battle of Jutland. As his ship went into battle, Admiral Halsey, to the amazement of his officers and crew, was seen to mount the bridge in his cloak of Kiwi feathers. HMS New Zealand came through the battle of Jutland unscathed. By the time I was 8 years, in spite of irregular attendance at school, I must have made some progress, particularly in reading as from the beginning of the war I was able to under-stand what was happening on the Western Front from our newspaper, The Dominion, the nearest equivalent to The Times. From the maps published of the battle fronts I acquired a very clear idea of the countries involved. Our two tomes, an encyclo-paedia and a medical book with their colour plates, were a never ending source of interest. The first book I read in 1915 was Uncle Tom's Cabin by Hariet Beecher Stowe. However, the most important event to me in 1914 was the arrival on the 9th of January, of another baby sister, |
| 5 | Doreen. She developed into a pretty child of whom I was extremely fond. I remember so well her coming home on a lovely sunny Sunday afternoon with our Mother, flanked by two nurses, in Barling's Wolsely taxi- a luxury car of those days, which was no doubt of equal interest to me! My Father said it gave him a shock at first - he thought he had been presented with triplet daughters! |
| 6 | Catholic family were our neighbours and good friends in Foxton; and we had tolerant relations with various Catholics in our community. Later, there was Father Dore, a big fat genial priest in charge of his parish embracing Foxton and Shannon,. who travelled on his appropriately big Harley-Davidson. When we were back back in Moutua, he occasionally called at the farm for a cup of tea, as he was partial to my Mother's scones! There was much of interest for me in Foxton; being a river port, there were the frequent coastal steamers to be seen. Friends owned a sawmill in the town which was powered by a gas engine 3 which facinated me; and there were the engineering workshops of Ross and Signal; old bearded Bill Signal, one time marine engineer from the Clyde was a good friend to me; and his teenage sons who had a super sophisticated model steam engine, which they were pleased to work for me. At one stage I wanted a cart built so went off and had 4 wheels cut at Spier's sawmill for 6d each and two axles forged at Ross and Signals for 4/- each and presented my Father with a demand for 10 shillings which he produced without too much protest. Perhaps he admired my initiative! And there were occasional trips to Foxton beach; 3 miles away - and once the sad sight of a whale washed up. There was, however, a less happy and lonely experience in the October; I was incarcerated in an isolation ward of Palmerston North Public Hospital for a fortnight with diphtheria from which I made a normal and uncomplicated recovery. Then at the end of 1915 the happy days of Foxton came to an end, as a decision was made to return to the farm at Moutua, no doubt for some good reason. However, it was back to the |
| 7 | familiar scene; the river, the mountains and the former home; but with some natural apprehension at changing to a different school. Lorraine and I would now continue our education at Shannon Public School which was much larger and with better facilities and teaching than the small country school at Moutua. To begin with it meant a 2 mile walk there and back, which was I suppose quite an effort for a 6 and 9 year old! In due course we were provided with bicycles. At first there was the occasional grazed limb! - and once crossing the Mangaore Creek on the way home, I skidded leaving the wooden bridge and slithered with bike down an earthy bank into the small sandy stream. Fortunately there were no solid objects such as boulders and so, no harm done! "Experientia docet"! By now a world of magic was opening up to me with the many acres to explore and much beauty to savour. Like "ole man river" the Manawatu, silvery in colour - I do not think it was ever blue - just kept "rollin' along". But when it was in flood from year to year, it was awesome with silt laden muddy swirling and rushing waters. When I saw the river during our visit to New Zealand in 1980, I realised that what I had thought of as the mighty Manawatu, was in fact probably less than half the width of the Thames at Westminster! One particular memory has remained with me throughout my life, which I have wished I could recapture in water colours. There was a stretch of the river fringed with overhanging Weeping Willows through the yellowing leaves of which the autumn sunshine under a clear blue sky dappled the mauvy mud bank with sunlight, creating a soft ethereal light, the magic of which I could only feel. Perhaps an impressionist such as Monet would have captured the magic in paint. Coal for the flaxmill steam plant was brought up from Foxton by punt, which on return carried away the finished bales of fibre for shipment to Wellington by coastal steamer. The |
| 8 | punts were hauled by steam launches, the steam engines and boilers colourfully painted, and with polished brass fittings - and the smell of steam and oil - were a never ending interest and fascination. With the Mangaore seasonally in full spate the countryside towards Shannon was subject to varying degrees of flooding and the road to Shannon passable only by horse drawn wheeled vehicles. A day or two off school were always welcomed! For the most part our property was surrounded by a flood protection embankment. The exception was a field of some 60 acres seemingly a gift of the River Gods! - an accretion over 30 to 40 years of rich alluvial soil, due to scouring eastwards of the bend in the river, and the field re-nourished from time to time with a covering of silt laden flood water, produced some of the best pasture for the cattle - and season-ally an abundance of mushrooms! This soil also seemed to attract both scotch and Californian thistles with their lovely shades of blue. I was always warned to keep off the river beach surrounding this field because of the treacherous nature of the mud flats and quicksands. The river also produced occasional shoals of whitebait, of a small species about 1-11 inches long, believed peculiar to New Zealand and Australia. They were cooked whole, in accordance with several recipes and were a gastronomic delicacy. I should have mentioned one occasion when a flood bank was breached, our house was surrounded by a sheet of water for a day or two. This was quite an exciting experience! The house and other important buildings were constructed with floor levels about 2 feet above ground level. The mill with its single stripper was known as the 'Potu Flaxmill and was sited on a stable section of the river bank |
| 9 | by reason of river transport and requirement of water supplies for the power plant and the process. The flax special to New Zealand was of the genus Phormium Tenax with a blade or leaf about 9 feet long producing a high quality fibre for rope making, much of which was exported to meet an overseas demand. The Shannon Foxton district was the main flaxmilling area in New Zealand. When the industry was at its height there were 50 to 60 mills within a radius of 15 miles from Foxton, with the number of strippers varying from one to seven. The cut flax in bundles was brought into our mill from the flax swamp by horse tram and the bundles stacked vertically in an area handy to the stripper unit. The stripper was of a special design which had evolved from experience in the industry; it consisted of a high speed drum about 15 inches in diameter with sharpened scraper blades mounted circumferentially zig-zag-wise and a beater plate and spring loaded toothed rollers driven at a speed to give the appropriate rate of feed to •the rotating stripping blades. At the high speed, the blades stripped the non-fibrous tissue from the flax leaves, the fibre falling on to a chain conveyor, being washed as it was conveyed to a point from where the hanks were man-handled on to timber baulks on a greased timber runway structure from which the hanks of fibre were trans-ported to paddocks where they were spread out to dry and bleach in the sunshine. After drying and bleaching, the fibre was taken to the scutching shed for the final process of removal of remaining particles of tissue in a special timber framed high speed scutcher or beater, producing fibre with a smooth and silky finish. The finished fibre was then pressed into standard bales for shipment. The somewhat unmusical sound which could be heard for some distanc around, as the flax was fed into the stripper, was as near as I can describe it, like a cat's deep toned miaow - but it was music to my young ears! To me, the mill was all mechanical wonders - a maze of belts and pulleys; water pumps and chain conveyor; the stripper |
| 10 | and the scutcher; but most important the Scotch marine type boiler and the 11 horse power horizontal steam engine, made by Cable's Foundry of Wellington. The mill engineer, old gingery grey haired Ted Gingell was my great friend and mentor, and to whom I was 'Mervy'! It was always a thrill when I was allowed to start and stop the engine! Ted was also an expert photographer with his old fashioned plate camera; and on a Sunday evening he would often slip into the rear pew of our Kirk. I was soon 'au fait' with the mystery of the operation of the boiler and the steam engine with its piston and eccentric operated slide valve, the centrifugal governor, etc. So,with my Meccano and model steam engine I spent time trying to replicate some of the mechanics of the mill. In those days I also acquired various electrics such as a motor, batteries etc., concerning which my Mother needed some assurance that there was nothing lethal about them! There was also another engine of interest to me; it was an internal combustion type of about 5 HP operating on kerosene (paraffin) which powered the milking machines, the cream separator and a circular saw used for cutting up domestic firewood. Oh yes, there was the occasional steam traction engine to be seen along the road, off on some mission such as powering a threshing mill, or a steam road roller bedding down for the night with its boiler fire being banked. Shannon being on the main railway line from Wellington there were expresses daily to and from Auckland, New Plymouth and Napier. I was always aware of the time when anyone of these would be passing through and I was familiar with the various type of engines to be seen. In those days my idea of being an engineer was to drive a rail-way locomotive or go to sea as a ship's engineer! |
| 11 | There were, of course, "creatures which also moved and had their being". My favourites were our few domestic pigs, both black Berkshires with snub snouts and creamy coloured Tamworths with longer snouts. Sometimes from their sty they were given the run of the adjacent native bush where they demonstrated that free ranging in the natural state, a pig is a very clean animal. The variety of bird life and song had a never ending appeal - gold finches, fantails, larks, quail and the occasional pheasant. I loved the colourful gold finches which seemed to be attracted to the fruit trees in the orchard. For some time I was mystified as to why I could not find a lark's nest hear where it ascended until I realised the lark first runs some distance from its nest. The pretty little fantail was either a native or had come from Australia. The typical native birds such as the tui, the huia and the bell bird, would only be seen or heard in the foothills of the Tararuas. It was a beauty spot here on the Mangaore Creek called Honeymoon Cottage that we sometimes picnic-ked on Boxing Day - sadly later the site of the Mangahao hydro-electric power station. I remember how lovely it was lying in bed early on a summer morning listening to the bird song from the trees bordering one side of our home. But there were no kiwis! As well as the charm of gold finches in the orchard, there were other delights! There was a large prolific cherry plum, believed to be of the genus mirabelle, which kept us well supplied for weeks, the red fruit having a flavour I have never since found equalled - certainly not by the Victoria. The beautiful pears were Cornice and Louis Bon Chretien, but I liked the sound of our pronunciation "Bon Creeshian"! My first introduction to French! There were of course plenty of apples, cookers and dessert, a walnut tree, peaches, a medlar and a quince, which produced a surplus for the pigs! Although the quince is not to everybody's taste it made a good jelly and I loved stewed quinces and rice pudding! |
| 12 | In addition to the small area of native bush which was grad-ually being reduced to release productive land, the home, farm buildings and orchard were surrounded here and there by poplars, willows, Australian eucalyptus gums and a line of pines as a wind break. I loved walking on the carpet of pine needles. The pine cones contributed to the fuel supplies. There were also blackberries along one stretch of river bank. In the native bush there was a variety of indigenous trees such as matai, rata, kowhai, cabbage trees or palms and a special cabbage palm of which I do not know the Maori name, which was called 'gi-gi'? The root of the leaves had delicious sweet edible flesh. Amongst the trees bordering the garden of our home there was some exotica, such as a castor oil plant, a magnolia and a camellia tree with its lovely white velvety flowers, delicate to the touch. Farming had a certain appeal to me but only in respect of agriculture, management and organisation, but I could not have faced animal husbandry. On one occasion I was unwittingly rash enough to watch a pig being killed. I was overcome by nausea, nearly fainted, and went white and had to go to bed! Dr Martin's hopes of me becoming a doctor would never had materialised! certainly not as a surgeon. Some other animals should be mentioned. One was Te Tanawa our handsome but fiercely aggressive Jersey bull, was always kept securely fenced. Te Tanawa sounded appropriate, probably being the name of some redoubtable Maori chieftain? My special friend and guardian was Scot, an intelligent collie. He was always tolerant and patient with me when I was perhaps over physically playful with him, but dare anyone molest me! He was the same age as me and when he died after 12 faithful years, I had a good weep! When I was about 7 we had a quiet pony named Trilby but I never took to riding. The other domestic animal was old Jess, a horse of even temperament for our rather posh 2-wheeled gig or trap, with seating for up to |
| 13 | six, with seats back to back. Jess was a very easy horse for my Mother to drive to Shannon for shopping or social occasions. The local climate should be mentioned. Looking back, there always seemed to be sunshine, even in winter when it would be warm for a few hours after early morning white frosts. Actually the climate was on average mild with no extremes of heat or cold, and influenced by the prevailing north westerly winds, sometimes rain bearing with showery conditions. Long periods of rain or a succession of grey cloudy days were rare. Summers were warn and dry. Once, about 1917 we did have a thin covering of snow which lasted only a day or two. The novel and fascinating fairyland scene was very exciting; it was the only snow I ever saw at sea level in my New Zealand days. I seem to remember that very occasionally , a light covering of snow could be seen on the higher levels of )( the Tarar uas 13 six, with seats back to back. Jess was a very easy horse for my Mother to drive to Shannon for shopping or social occasions. The local climate should be mentioned. Looking back, there always seemed to be sunshine, even in winter when it would be warm for a few hours after early morning white frosts. Actually the climate was on average mild with no extremes of heat or cold, and influenced by the prevailing north westerly winds, some-times rain bearing with showery conditions. Long periods of rain or a succession of grey cloudy days were rare. Summers were warm and dry. Once, about 1917 we did have a thin covering of snow which lasted only a day or two. The novel and fascinating fairyland scene was very exciting; it was the only snow I ever saw at sea level in my New Zealand days. I seem to remember that very occasionally a light covering of snow could be seen on the higher levels of the Tararuas. I am not aware that there was any problem with my primary schooling. There must have been good teaching as when I finished my primary schooling in Hastings at the second main school Mahora North and sat for my Proficiency Certificate in December 1.919 I came 4th to Dux in a class of 30 - including full marks for mental arithmetic! We had sold the farm and flaxmill and moved to Hastings in June 1919 when I was 12. The two teachers who had shaped my scholastic career were a Mr Trainer and a Mr Maurice Tremewan, who was also a member of our church. I have many memories of those later primary school days. Most important, there was no homework - those were the days! Arithmetic was a necessary and enjoyable evil, but seemed to be the main measurement of achievement. On one occasion there was an exciting confrontation with fisticuffs when the taw (or strap) was about to be used on a large oaf of a teenager! |
| 14 | The class tactfully refrained from cheering the contestants, and Mr Trainer finally prevailed. And from time to time there was my response to sweet young heart throbs! - and forbidden bathing in one's nothings in the Mangaore Creek beyond the school! We were introduced to Dickens by Mr Tremewan and I was moved by the death of little Nell from the Old Curiosity Shop. Other favourites were the story of the shipwreck and rescue in David Copperfield; and the story of the search for the Holy Grail, etc. History made an early appeal to me. Mr. Tremewan having been invalided out of active service on the Western Front by about 1917, and with the benefit of some travels in Britain, was able to make history even more interesting and alive to me. I was impressed by his conviction that throughout her history, Britain had been under Divine guidance and protection - just to mention the frustration of Napoleon's grand design and the destruction of Philip of Spain's Armada - "God breathed and they were scattered". This influence has remained with me; even in the darkest days of 1940, I believed that this country would emerge even though "bloodied", but nevertheless "unbowed". Perhaps I was not quite normal as I seemed to have loved school and church and the whole family sallying forth in our horse and trap of a Sunday to worship was probably accepted unquestioningly as a part of our life and the natural order of things. The worst aspect of Sunday mornings was the inspection of my neck and ears! Of course I naturally welcomed a morning at home if it was too wet or the road flooded. There was nothing about our Kirk, of the austerity of Robert Louis Stevenson's "Lowden Sabbath Morn" and our church bell was somewhat more melodious than Lowden's "clinkum clank"! Shannon being only a small town in those days of less than a thousand people; our parish was only of the order of one |
| 15 | or two hundred, so most knew each other - a sort of Christian club. As children we were happy to be among those who were our class-mates and friends in day school. Many of the congregation were farmers, Scottish settlers or of Scottish extraction, and a few Welsh and Irish. The worship was led during most of those few years by our beloved elderly Scottish minister, Rev McKenzie. Lorraine and I remember particularly a dear lady in her black bonnet and dress, who we always referred to as "Old Lady" McPherson. She would often pass to us some peppermints - known in Scotland as "ecclesiastical sweets"! Years later on holiday in Scotland, I was amused on going to a service in Arrochar Parish Church, to be aware of a faint smell of peppermint! Another character was Mr McKegg, the publican of the Albion Hotel - and to me pubs were thought of as "dens of iniquity"! As far as I was aware Mr McKegg never attended church, but he always funded the books for the Sunday School prizegiving. There have remained with me the happiest memories of my young days within the warm fellowship of our Shannon church, although I think I am one of those who has always been naturally receptive of spiritual influence. Of recent years a new church has been built and is now St David's Presbyterian - Methodist. About 1984 a plaque contributed by his family, was dedicated to the memory of our Father, Alexander Saunders, at one time Elder and Choirmaster, in the presence of my sister Lorraine and his grandson, Ian Fyfe. That I made few close friends as a child was probably in part due to living in the country with no near neighbours; and in fact I was something of a loner, and self sufficient in my interests in the spacious environs of our home. 'certainly never had any desire to be "one of the gang" or the "leader of the pack" at school. |
| 16 | One friend was Syd Gunning, who later was a "go-between" with one of my amours! His father, a patriarchal handsome bearded emigre from the West Country, England, was "W H Gunning Stores". But my special friend was Ted Aim, whose father was from the Orkneys and manager of the Co-operative Dairy Company (owned by the farmers as shareholders). On visits to the Aims there was always the interest of the butter making process, the steam power, butter churns, refrigeration plant, etc. As we matured I felt something of an inferiority complex, as Ted became an outstanding cricketer, tennis and Rugby player, and was also a good pianist. Ultimately he became Headmaster of Otago Boys High School in Dunedin. Sadly he contracted cancer and his life came to an untimely end in the early 1950's. His elder sister Agnes was a very quiet type, sensitive and artistic. She was a local music teacher, and for some years our church organist. There were of course some girl friends to whose attractions, voluptuous or otherwise, I responded to shyly! - and with two of whom I have maintained contact to the present day - Maisie and Gwen Brown (sisters of Jeane). Then, all of a sudden early in 1917 it seemed that disaster had befallen us. As I passed through Shannon from school, I overheard "Saunders's mill has been burned down"! - and sure enough as I looked in our direction I saw the telltale cloud of smoke. A sad scene; skeletal machinery standing in burnt out ruins. One minute alive and throbbing, and then a death-like silence. The fire started in the scutching shed, a high risk area because of the dry fibre dust and refuse. The cause was never known; either by sparks from an over-heated bearing or quite likely an illicit cigarette. The scutching plant was destroyed and the |
| 17 | whole of the mill buildings burned down. The boiler, the engine and the remainder of the machinery, suffered only superficial damage. I just do not remember how long, but reconstruction was completed and the mill back in production in what seemed a very short time. The corrugated iron sheeting was merely discoloured by the fire and was used again for re-cladding the buildings. "All's well that ends well"! For over four years life was overshadowed by the World War, and at my age I was sensible of the horror and the mud and blood of the trench warfare. The sadness was brought home to us by the featuring in our Weekly Illustrated of the photographs of the men killed in action. The first sad news was that my cousin Leonard Kirby was reported missing believed killed in action. Then in 1915 there was the involvement of the ANZAC's in the Gallipoli campaign and my awareness that in some way the operation was a disaster. As the Battle of Jutland was incomclusive and something of a stalemate it made less impression on me than the Battle of the Cocos (or Keeling) Islands in which a German cruiser was sunk, the nearest the war came to New Zealand, other than some measure of sugar rationing! The Somme was just one of the many names associated with the horrors of the mud and blood of the trench warfare. I remember well, it was a sunny June day in 1916, when everyone was shocked by the news of the death of Lord Kitchener (Secretary of State for War) on the cruiser Hampshire, which was sunk by a mine as it set sail for Russia. Then there was the sad news of my Uncle Norman Wallace who was killed in action at Messines in Belgium in June 1917. It seemed only a short time before that he had come to see his sister, my Mother, before embarkation. There was also our cousin Raymond Lawry, who died prematurely in the 1920's, his ill-health believed to have been caused by being gassed on the Western Front. At 21 he was the youngest Major to leave New Zealand. The saddest of all was the death of my other Uncle Norman (Sgt N G Saunders) on the stricken troopship Tahiti during |
| 18 | the terrible world-wide influenza epidemic of 1918. He was among the 74 who died, and he was buried at sea off Sierra Leone, West Africa, in August. 1918. The circumstances were particularly sad as he had been invited to remain behind to take a commission as an officer, but he opted to stay with his men whom he had helped to train. With the Armistice a few months away, he would not have seen active service. His name is on the Shannon War Memorial. So, four of our immediate family made the Supreme Sacrifice "At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them". Happily, there was soon to be some lifting of the gloom' with the excitement of the Armistice on 11 November 1918. How well I remember the continuous blowing of the mill whistle and the beating of the tin cans by the mill workmen! It so happened that I was confined to bed with bronchititis; history was to be repeated on VE Day 1945; I was in bed in a military hospital with mumps. As a postscript to some of my wartime memories, a lighter side was provided by some popular songs and ditties which quickly caught on in New Zealand - Ivor Novello's "Keep the Home Fires Burning"; "Plum and Apple"; "Tipperary"; "Mademoiselle From Armentieres" etc. Also in August 1918 there was another happy event: a third charming little sister, Bobbie, arrived and who became a favour-ite with all. The next great excitement was the purchase early in 1919 of our first motor car - a Light Four, 4-cylinder, 5-seater Studebaker for about £550 - at today's prices at least 10 times? It did about 25 m.p.g. on a long run; at that time petrol was 5/- per gallon and a set of tyres £40. It was a light yellowish khaki colour, with some streamlining - we thought it very posh |
| 19 | and superior! On what was regarded as a small car, such was the space between the front and rear seats, which Americans called the 'tonneau' it was possible on one occasion for a picnic to pack in ten, including children. At that time the real luxury car was such as the English Wolseley - in 1919 there was only one Roll Royce in New Zealand! I immediately learned to drive, practicing in a field adjoining our home and soon I was allowed to share the driving - I was not yet 13! Age restrictions and driving licences had not yet been introduced. I quickly became a 'motor car buff' and soon knew the pedigree of most English and American cars on the road. And now a major change in our lives was to take place. Influenced by the death of my Father's brother, our Uncle Norman, who was one of his partners in the South Island flax and sawmilling operations of Prouse and Saunders, a decision was made to dispose of this interest, and sell the farm and flaxmill at Moutua and move in semi-retirement to Hastings in Hawkes Bay. Thus the property at Moutua would pass out of the Saunders family after some forty-three years. Perhaps it will be thought that some distance in time has lent enchantment to my memories? No I don't think so. Those idyllic days were surrounded by an ambience of well-being, affection and freedom. Our family was what was thought of in those days as being affluent or "well off". We never seemed to want for the good but simple things of life. The farm was regarded as well run, and along with the flaxmill prospered, particularly during the war years. We had a comfortable, spacious and well furnished home; we were amongst the first in the district to own a motor car; my three sisters were regarded as among the best dressed little girls in the Shannon area, etc. The Church, its worship and the Sunday School were central to our lives, and as children we were brought up in a simple faith |
| 20 | with a strong sense of what was right and wrong; but there was no repression or sanctimoniousness; however the Sabbath in accordance with our Scottish background was to be observed as a day apart, but not too strictly! I always remember that one of my Father's favourite quotations from the Bible was "Without vision the people perish". Politically, my parents were to the Right and read the Wellington paper "The Dominion", the equivalent of "The Times" of London. - There was a Liberal party, more to the Centre or Leftwards. I do not remember that there was yet a Labour party in exis-ence. Extreme Left activists tended to be contemptuously regarded as "Commies". Of course in those childhood days, the various political philosophies meant little to me, so I naturally absorbed my parents views. It must ha been at about 10 years - I do not remember exactly when - that I became gradually aware of the facts of life! It all came naturally and understandably, being broughtup on a farm; from the Old Testament; and the usual exchange of information amongst other school boys! - and from our medical encyclopaedia! Somehow or other I managed with this knowledge to develop the right moral attitude in accordance with the Ystrictures of the New Testament and the guidance of my parents. I think my first awareness of the charms of the opposite sex was when I was 8 years old at Foxton School - it was a little brunette of 5 years by the name of Walton. It was just a heart-throb with exchange of shy smiles! My parents were both total abstainers like many of our circle of friends who probably had varying attitudes. They were very conscious of the evils of alcohol and thought it better to avoid it. And "demon drink" was brought home to me when about 1917 a car full of our locals, believed to have been under the influence, returning from a race meeting in Hawkes Bay, when passing through the hazardous Manawatu Gorge, plunged to their deaths in the river below, a tragedy which cast a gloom over Shannon. But it |
| 21 | did not pass unnoticed by me that my highly regarded Grandfather Wallace always took a tot of whisky before retiring at night - and there was the miracle of water into wine! So the seeds were sown of my future temperate outlook. And later when we inherited a barrel of parsnip wine with the farm purchased at Fitzherbert West, Palmerston North, the surprise when my Father invited me to sample with him a glass - it was rather rough stuff and very potent! but otherwise soon disposed of - what a waste! From time to time our home provided hospitality to visiting ministers and newly arrived young school teachers; and occasional visits by relatives. It was Uncle Albert Jagger and Auntie Annie, my Father's youngest sister, who we saw most of;, they lived some 9 miles away at Marotiri towards Foxton and made frequent visits on a Sunday. I now look back on Uncle Albert as the archetypal Yorkshire born Englishman; tall, slim and handsome; astute and he knew how to acquire and look after his "brass"? He had a well run farm in a lovely setting and a house appropriately; named "Bonnie Doone". I was always fascinated with his posh Studebaker, purchased two or three years before ours, and always kept in a well maintained and highly polished condition - rather like the proverbial "Russian Sleigh". I always had a very happy rapport with them, and I know I was a favourite with Auntie Annie. She had been regarded as something of a tomboy when young; was a good horsewoman; and could turn her hand to anything on the farm. I know she played the piano, but with what amateurish skill, I do not remember. But my hero - perhaps for the want of a better word - was my Grandfather Wallace - the legendary Sgt William Wallace, an outstanding cavalryman in the Wanganui Yeomanry Cavalry as a volunteer for 3 years from the age of 17, during the Maori Wars. His many reminiscences and photographs are recorded in the official history "The New Zealand Wars" by Cowan. When he died in 1925 at the age of 67 he was given a military funeral in Hawera, and laid to his rest to the music of Chopin's Funeral March by the local Town Band. His medals are preserved in the |
| 22 | New Plymouth Museum. As he lived in Taranaki, some 140 miles away, I saw little of him during my childhood days, but remember him as kindly and tolerant of his grandchildren, and with a sense of humour. He was already a conservationist in those days! He farmed at Mere Mere, near Hawera until his retirement. A little further along the road to Foxton, beyond Jagger's "Bonnie Doone" was the "stately" homestead of the Easton family, in a beautiful setting and with their wealth, 3 cars, annual visits to race meetings at Wanganui, etc., I was very impressed by, and envious of their lifestyle! Frederick Easton was a partner in the dynasty of Stevens, Easton and Austin, who had extensive lands and flaxmilling interests. Easton passed into legend as the "Moutua millionaire". The old homestead was later converted into a retreat for elderly nuns of the Roman Catholic church. Minnie Austin was married to my Uncle Norman Saunders, prior to his embarkation on the ill-fated troopship Tahiti in 1918. There were often visits by, and to other relatives. Although our family.did not follow any ritual of annual holidays, there was one outstanding in my memory when with my Mother and Lorraine, about 1911, when we went to stay with the family of Rev. Samuel Lawry in Christchurch. Mrs Jessie Lawry was my Father's first cousin. The teenage Melville and Raymond were very helpful with and interested in my drawing efforts. The sisters were Elaine and Vera. From Christchurch we went on to friends in Timaru. The impression of the sweep of the beautiful Caroline Bay, the blue sea and colourful steamers in the roadstead has remained with me ever since. In 1918 there was a memorable experience when I travelled alone by train to Hawera to stay with Uncle Garfield's family and Grandfather Wallace for a week at Mere Mere and then on to Ngaire for a second week to stay with the family of Uncle John Saunders and Auntie Emma. There was the fun of travelling to church in their "Tin Lizzie" - one of the famous Model T Fords. |
| 23 | Ivor aged 15 was at Stratford High School and I was enthralled by his enthusiasm for science, electrical hobbies, etc. He later qualified as a Biologist. As for Marion aged 17, I fell in love with her and her musical talents on the piano, and later it was to be the cello. Cousin Edna was away from home and Gordon, having taken his degree in English at Victoria College of the University of N.Z. was working in Wellington. And they had the complete set of Encyclopaedia Britannica - need I say any more! It must have been in January 1918 that we had our first real seaside holiday at an hotel on the lovely sandy Plimmerton beach towards Wellington; in a picturesque setting with Kapiti and Mana islands offshore, with days of sunshine and bathing in the warm blue sea, although I had not yet learned to swim - that was an achievement a year or so later in Hastings. There was an exciting trip to Wellington, and the thrill of buying my first camera at Kodaks - a box Brownie. There was a romantic interlude at Plimmerton - sometime later a snapshot was found with a little freckled face 10 years old and me sitting with our arms around each other - was I teased. It was taken with my camera, developed and printed by me. Two of my first efforts - the flaxmill and home at Moutua, are still in the family records. And so with the exciting prospect of the move to Hastings in June 1919, there came to an end the country life and carefree free-ranging days on the farm at Moutua, with its never ending and varied interests. Provided I completed first my daily half hour of piano practice and certain prescribed, but not too arduous daily tasks, a "sine qua non" for pocket money, my time was my own! The piano was no problem, especially as I acquired skill with simple music. With additional funds from various efforts of private enterprise - collecting beer bottles from the roadside; growing onions for the kitchen; collecting and threshing cocksfoot grass seed, etc. - I got great pleasure out of seeing my P.O. Savings Bank account grow! |
| 24 | Annual haymaking coincided with summer school holidays, with generally hot sunny weather, and was great fun - and when the young labourer tried to be worthy of his hire. How lovely it was to share with the men, tea and hot scones in the late thirsty afternoon! In the winter I would be more into books, an insatiable bookworm, curled up before the breakfast room fire - all the usual of those days; Grimm's and Hans Anderson's Fairy Tales, Robinson Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson, R.M. Ballantines Coral Island, Gorilla Hunters, The Wonder Books of Railways, Steamships, Boy's Own Annual and Arthur Mee's highly regarded "My Magazine". Against the background of the war, "Our Sure Shield The Navy" was a special delight! I loved sea stories and adventure. Looking back, I think my Mother and Father, though not unreasonably strict, were quite indulgent with me - some might have said over indulgent. One visiting female cousin considered me to be spoilt, but we shared a mutual antagonism! I like to think that my Yorkshire Uncle Albert's judgement was right when he once said "Mervyn was a good boy"! - but I don't think I was ever a "goody-goody". I think my worst sin was to be tempted to pocket a half-crown that had been lying awaiting my sticky fingers; was I in the doghouse? - with dire warnings such as being sent to a Reform School! I don't think my parents seriously subscribed to the philosophy of "spare the rod, spoil the child" . I cannot remember much in the way of such chastisement, nor my Father ever lifting a hand to me. It was more often an appeal to one's sense of shame or better nature etc. However, I certainly had enough innate low cunning to keep me generally out of trouble! However, to some influences I was sensitive. As time passed I developed something of a phobia; it was understandably from the horrors of fire, with the burning down of our home when I was about 4; the spectacular conflagration of Whyte's Hotel |
| 25 | which could be clearly seen reflected against the night sky after which I experienced a nightmare; and the burning down of our flaxmill. Then about 1917/1918 one morning thick clouds of smoke from extensive bush fires to the north, resulted in an hour or two of complete darkness as black as Egypt's night followed by an eerie orange light. I seem to remember that some people were near panic believing it was the end of the world! Although these were traumatic experiences, I do not think that they have had a lasting effect, other than like many people, to have a continuing horror of fires. I don't think I should have been a case for Freud?! To what other traits in the development of my character should I admit? I have always been a loner, happy in my own company, though naturally welcoming access to chosen friendships. This has stood me in good stead over the years when I have had to carry out solitary commissions, particularly in Nigeria where for two months I had, with native staff, to operate a small power station in the bush, without seeing another white man. I have always been regarded as having a phlegmatic temperament. And from childhood I had the makings of a hedonist, which has contributed much to my continuing "joie de vivre"! And so, the excitement of our move to the charming country town of Hasting, Hawkes Bay, a town of some 10,000 dominated by the beautiful Havelock North hills a few miles distant. By the time I visited Hastings again in 1980 the population had grown to 30,000; many of the trees and much of the open space had gone, and the centre of town a maze of one-way traffic; there was no longer the old charm. But the dry, sunny East coast climate remained. The Hastings days started with some happy new experiences which appealed to my hedonistic tendencies. At the end of 1919 there was a school ball with the old-time orchestra in the old fashioned way in the centre of the hall. Much to my delight a lady school teacher manoevred me around the floor |
| 26 | and from which introduction to the dance I never looked back! And at Xmas, I was taken to my first pantomime "Goody Two Shoes" by a visiting British company - a wonderful experience. Naturally, there was sadness at leaving Shannon, and the country life of Moutua. It was something of a coincidence that my last piano piece I was learning was "Chanson Triste" by Tchaikovsky! It is opposite to think of my journey into the realities of teenage as being from the inter-island ferry, the old SS Mapourika at the port of Nelson by an olde worldie horse-drawn 4-wheeled cab, past the beautiful old cathedral of timber construction painted dark reddish sienna, surmounted by a pale green spire and thence up to the imposing college flanked by the Grampians on one side, and on the other, the Port Hills and over-looking the little City of Nelson. First impressions which have remained with me, were the smell of freshly mown turf; the sound of bat on ball from the cricket nets; and the beautiful dining room with white table linen and flowers, and the windows framed by autumn coloured Virginia creeper - it was all very thrilling to a "wee sleekit timorous" new boy! |
Looking back with pleasure on an idyllic childhood
Object type:Multi-Page Document
Identification
- Object type
- Multi-Page Document
- Date
- 1990
Creation
- Created By
- Mervyn Saunders
Object rights
Taxonomy
- Community Tags