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Chapter 04
My Dad
My Great Grandfather
on Dad's side was the Rev. Wallis who emigrated from Blackwell,
London, to New Zealand during 1834. He was then 25 years of age
and married. Along with his wife he arrived at Hokianga Harbor
up which they traveled until reaching the Wesleyan Mission Station
at Mangungu. After a short stay there they went to Horera, Waingaroa;
now known as Raglin. They then went to Kaipara for three years
and then back to Waingaroa; where they remained for twenty years,
working and preaching amongst the Maoris.
When the treaty
of Waitangi was drawn up, and signed by Maori and Pakeha alike,
Rev. Wallis attached his signature to the Treaty as a witness
to the mark of a local Maori Chief.
My Grandad to
be, James McRoberts, was born during 1835 at Belfast, Ireland.
He emigrated from Raloo, County Antrum, Ireland. He arrived at
Auckland during 1862. Fourteen years later he married Mary, one
of Rev. Wallis's daughters. They then went to Thames and followed
the gold mining boom there. After a time at Thames they shifted
to Tauranga and carried on the shopkeeping business. The next
shift was to Kati Kati where they became farmers; eventually
retiring to Auckland.
Dad was one
of James McRoberts's four sons. At an early age he left Kati
Kati and journeyed to Hokitika in Westland, where he acquired
a position as foreman in a flax mill. During 1909 he married
Annie Simpson, a school teacher from Blue Spur. Shortly after
their marriage he was accepted as a candidate to join the Police
Force. Training was carried out in Wellington where he was duly
recognised as a qualified Police Officer. This was in 1911 when
his transfer to Greymouth station was recommended.
At Greymouth Dad and Mum took up residence in a house adjacent
to the police Station and jail.
There were three children in our family. My eldest sister was
born during 1910, my other sister during 1912. I came along at
the end of 1913. We were a fairly young family.
Our home was a two-unit house shared by two families. Both had
their own front and rear doors, own fireplaces and living quarters.
A wooden partition was the only structure that separated family
from family.
During the early evening we would be resting or playing in our
living-room, when the children next door were going to bed. We
could hear them saying their prayers before they went of to sleep.
The walls were so flimsy the sound came right through. I did
not know what they were saying, as I was barely a toddler. My
Mum would whisper the words to us later on.
At the rear of our living quarters was a rather high fence, or
so it seemed to a boy of my age. Beyond the fence was a paddock
where the horses belonging to the Mounted Police Force were kept.
Alongside the paddock was a vegetable garden, well tended by
the prisoners from the jail. Across the road at the front of
the house was a row of small colonial cottages which were the
habitat of some Chinese families. Further along the road was
a big house - an old two-story place, if I remember right wherein
lived a collection of Chinese. They were ex-gold diggers and
dropouts, who could not afford to return to their homeland. Probably
most of them hoped to make their fortune on the gold fields and
then return to China. This locality was known as `China Town'.
It was in this area that my sisters and I started our life.
We used to play with the Chinese children across the road. One
boy I remember quite well. His name was Jonnie Luey-Jock. Some
of the ageing Chinese used to sit on the steps of the Police
Station and as we passed, they would quite often drop a coin
on the footpath. We would stop to pick it up and they would then
talk to us. No doubt the incident would remind them of their
own children back in China, whom they would probably never see
again.
I still have one of those coins. It is similar to a penny, but
has a square hole in the middle.
I once asked a Chinese shopkeeper how much it was worth. He said
it was worth about one tenth of a penny. When one considers that
a penny is now classed as a cent, it's value would have been
very small indeed.
Short term prisoners
were usually detained in the Greymouth jail, whilst longer term
ones were conveyed to the Christchurch jail, where they would
serve out their sentence. We often saw them working in the Greymouth
jail vegetable gardens, but we were forbidden to go near them.
Sometimes while playing in the paddock behind the jail we could
hear them screaming in the cells. Probably in a fit of the "delirium
tremens". Sometimes my Mum would cook meals for the inmates;
probably when the regular cook was away. My Dad would take the
meals to the inmates and distribute them to the respective cells.
The tea would be carried in one pint enamel mugs. Occasionally
I would accompany my Dad proudly carrying a mug of tea.
At various times when a prisoner was released. Dad would bring
him home and my Mum would supply him with a hot meal before he
went on his way.
There were several
mounted Police in Greymouth during that time. Some members of
the force had joined the local surf club. Many a happy time they
experienced in the surf, exercising the horses and practicing
life-saving. The surf could be very boisterous at times. My Dad
was a strong swimmer and was a belt-man for the club. He had
the distinction of rescuing a number of people who had found
themselves in distressful circumstances whilst bathing. For saving
the life of Mr Ennis from drowning on the 3rd March 1916, he
was awarded the Royal Humane Society's medal. The commissioner
of Police also granted him a reward of five pounds ($10) for
meritorious conduct. In appreciation of being saved from drowning;
Mr Ennis presented my Dad with a gold watch and chain. Permission
had to be obtained from the various Police Departments for acceptance
of the watch and chain, five pounds and medal. This necessitated
the writing of a veritable manuscript of letters between the
various Officers of the police Department.
I seem to have
a fairly retentive memory of incidents occurring during my childhood.
During 1917 a steamship; the "Opouri" was wrecked on
the north tip head. I also recall the Army recruits leaving on
a Steam-ship from the Greymouth wharf en route to the 1914 world
war. Also a fire at the Golden Eagle Hotel just down the road
from our house.
There used to be a sculpture of a golden eagle on the pinnacle
of the roof. It was still there until fairly recent years when
it was removed and not replaced during renovations to the building.
It is a pity really, as the eagle was symbolic of the building.
I can remember walking along the wharf with my Mother when the
river was in flood. The wharf planks were perhaps an inch or
so apart through which could be seen the turbulent waters rushing
past. I was very much afraid that I was going to fall through
the gaps.
We would have picnics on the Blaketown beach. Most everybody
would enjoy a swim or paddle in the waves breaking on the foreshore.
Not so I. One day my Dad hoisted me on to his shoulders, and
waded out into the breakers. I let him know in no uncertain terms
that I did not appreciate what he was doing to me. Boy, was I
frightened of those waves.
That may have been the reason I was frightened of the water for
years afterwards. I did not learn to swim properly until I was
twelve years old. Even taking a bath during my pre-school days
was a real effort.
Through some
quirk of nature my Dad was endowed with the ability to waggle
his ears, reminiscent of a horse. With his tall figure and broad
shoulders, he presented a fine figure, as a Policeman should
do. On occasions when on a street corner, or sitting in a railway
carriage, young children would gaze at him in awe, whereupon
he would waggle his ears at them. This would cause a giggle from
the children, and break their seemingly hypnotic trance.
During 1917 my Father was promoted to take charge of the Cobden
police Station. Cobden is on the North side of the Grey river
in close proximity to the river mouth, as Greymouth is. The Police
Station was on the corner of Sturge street and Fox street. The
building is still there, but somewhat modified to what it used
to be. It comprised three bedrooms, a lounge, kitchen, scullery,
a spare room, and a wash house. Of course there was a bathroom
as well, which I tried to shy clear of at bath time. The spare
room was fitted out as a workshop, where Dad made picture frames
and anything else needed in the way of carpentry. The Police
Office was a room attached to the side of the house, with separate
outside access.
In an empty section alongside, we had a decent sized vegetable
garden. Dad was a keen gardener and grew a lot of vegetables.
What he did with them all I did not know, but I learned later
in life that he gave a lot of them away to some of the needy
families of Cobden.
It is funny how little things are impressed upon one's mind.
Quite often when Dad returned from Greymouth, we would go through
his pockets, often being rewarded with finding an apple, banana,
sweet etc. He often bought home so much whitebait, we had to
feed them to the fowls. I can remember him repairing the fowl-yard
fence. Before the nails were driven in, they were coated in fat
to facilitate the passage of the nail through the wood. One day
I walked into the lounge where my Mother and Dad were talking.
I saw Dad place a revolver in the inside of his tunic. That did
not mean much to me then, I learned during the following years
that he was included in the search party to track down the murderer,
Bill Eggers.
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