A Visitor’s View “AUCKLAND REMAINS A SPRAWLING TOWN”

Press, Volume XCVII, Issue 28480, 9 January 1958, Page 3

A Visitor’s View “AUCKLAND REMAINS A SPRAWLING TOWN”

Wealthy Quarters, Far-Flung

Suburbs

[By DAVID GULDBLATT] A UCKLAND is the commercial centre—dare one say capital—of New Zealand. Wealth and pi osperi ty hit one in the face. In Queen street it has the most golden of all “Golden Miles,” and the discriminating may find in its narrow side streets the boutique and the salon as an alternative to the stores.

There is nothing mean about Auckland’s shopping centre—neon lighting takes care of that — and on Friday evening when New Zealand shoppers stock up for the closed long weekend. Queen street takes on the character of an All Black Rugby scrum.

Here along the “Main Street” mounting the mile-long rise from the wharfside, the milk bar and the cinema are interspersed between banks and emporia, public houses and insurance offices, and in this Friday night medley nothing is missing. Parents and lovers rendezvous Outside the milk bars the cowgirls and boys pick each other up for a milk shake or a coffee and the usual dull sandwiches All m all, it is a cluttered tangle of humanity with the police on the qui vive, for the “pubs” have disgorged their habitues, among whom some are the worse for wear, and incidents are in the making. In its far-flung suburbs one is back in small town—clean, neat, beflowered, repetitive, devoid of fantasy. Auckland has its wealthy quarters where stand rambling wooden houses in acres of bush and garden, each with its view of Rangitoto. that sentine] of the sea lane and the Waitemata, of the Manukau and of the cliff*and sands on the North Shore with its own housing schemes spreading for miles in each direction. Alive With Boats On a fair day, the beaches near and far are alive with craft from the dinghy with its outboard motor, to the racing yacht, a picture of grace as it takes advantage of wind and current and tide. Here is a place where man can work and play on land and sea, and at large, for there is nothing to cramp his style or playground Here there is adventure on easy terms. The motor-car has widened the horizon and a day’s run can reach the rugged hills of the Coromandel Peninsula or the coves and inlets, the sands soft, the breezes gentle and privacy ensured: else a gentle meander through the pine woods or an excursion to the vineyards that the swarthy Dalmatian stock have sown, tended and brought to fruition in the ways of their forebears on the hilly slopes that carry the tang of the Adriatic Sea. The Aucklander lacks neither variety nor opportunity in his many leisure hours. A Sprawling Town Here there is everything that goes to make a city and yet Auckland remains a pleasant, sprawling town, without the indefinable quality that alone could make of it a city It has size, both in area and in population, fine streets and stores, many-storeyed office buildings absence of slums, a factory area set apart, arterial roads, a university crammed above CE.pacitv an art gallery going through its teething troubles, a museum, outstanding. a theatre, a concert chamber that has dismayed renowned artists through many a half-filled seance, and a spate of cinemas which provide the worst of Hollywood, the inanities o’ Europe, amd ice-cream in profusion But Auckland has a for New Zealand A modest venture bv a European refugee b”ough 4 New Zealand its first taste of haute cuisine The eternal lamb hogget, and beef that defv distinction in their sameness, the apple pie or iellv garnished with ice cream are all discarded and the wiles of “chefery” are brought into play. Magic transforms the dull, round

of meals into a joyous adventure. The normal span of 30 minutes is exceeded as it spins itself out from hors d’ouvres to savoury, lit up by the barely concealed bottle, known to, if not noticed by, authority in uniform or mufti The palate is teased and regaled by unaccustomed dishes. An air of cultured ease and unchecked time >ervades. The waiters actually serve with a studied deference that adds lustre to the occasion. Life renews forgotten meaning. Plain Fare On Country’s Tables The charm of master and servant, the serenity of an hour with the world forgotten and maybe by the world forgot—thus can we pass through the Mirror into Wonderland with our ALe to learn, or at least to mark, the graces so lacking in the South Pacific. To return to the plain fare and the even plainer fetch and carry of the normal feeding machine of this country is a shock and an incentive to improvement which must ensue. Dull uniformity encompasses its own downfall. He who tastes of the sweets of life can from that moment resist everything but temptation. Auckland has a railway station, grand, perhaps grandiose. Its red brick eminence shows up against the neighbouring bus garage and warehouse. Marble entrance hall and tiled access on the long haul to the platforms give promise of a comfort and punctualitv which alas’ experience belies. The aged and the feeble soon learn: the mosaic floors are worn and scratched by trunk and case making their weary drag the hundred yards to gain access to platform and train. Apparently the station porter has been consigned to limbo, for the cry of democracy abhors servility, and with the tip officially frowned noon, though now and then in illicit practice, incentive has vanished. All that is left is man's compassion and let it be said that in New Zealand this is full and flowing, and thus officialdom will help at the double iust so long as it is not the prescribed job: manv a 'weak heart has been saved from collapse by ♦he helping hand of the amateur “Near Enough” A last word on the railway timetable. The writer has come to the conclusion that this is New

Zealand’s comic relief. Like all else it is “near enough,” though often not very near as a method of assessing arrival. To be fair, the trains do arrive on the given day. To sum up, Auckland is the place of residence, of work, and of play, of 16 per cent, of New Zealand’s population. To its docks come a steady flow of immigrants and visitors. It is New Zealand’s busiest port and is the funnel through which flows in both direc-

tions much of New Zealand’s surplus and wants. In consequence it garners a mighty harvest of wealth and here dwell many men of substance and acumen; in culture it has yet much to acquire; in its habits, its wares, its ways, its dwellings, its outlook, it is smalltown only more so—New Zealand in epitome. (To be completed by two more articles—one on Wellington, the other on Christchurch.)