Life And Death Of A Country Pub

Press, Volume CVIII, Issue 31841, 20 November 1968, Page 24

Life And Death Of A Country Pub

(Specialty written for “The Press'' by WAIKERIKERI)

There are now few old timers who would remember the Bluff Hotel, Coalgate, in its best days, and to regret its loss by fire last July. It was the last of a string of hotels of the Malvern District. They served the coal mines, and the pottery works, and were there for the coming of the railway. In this period came the transition from the pack saddle to the dray, over river and tussock, to the motor lorry and, car, over tar-sealed road; from the side saddle to the hunting saddle.

In its best days the Bluff Hotel was the gathering place of tough men and the word !“tough” is used in the tensile sense rather than rough. For as 1 remember it there was little room in the district for the weak. At the Bluff Hotel, at Coalgate, on special occasions one met the real salt of human society: the high-country musterers, shepherds from the gorges, shearers', harvesters, local farmers, miners and pottery hands from Glentunnel, and traction engine crews. Under the pine trees or gorse bushes near by one 'saw the occasional swagger, with his “knot" and black billy. Social Tests Rare were the visits of runholders and owners of sheep stations. They visited the place only when strictly on

business. In the early days of the century the class distinction peculiar to Canterbury was very much observed. The social test among the then upper class was “who was he?” Among the musterers and shepherds, the miners and the farmers and the general run of the men one met at the pub the test was “what was he?”

There was no enmity between the two classes but much respect. But the tar seal and the machine, war and tax, have swept away such class and with it the gatherings at the pub. The big sheep runs have been subdivided, owners do most of their own shepherding and cultivation. The shearers are organised into gangs, the harvesters of the side delivery and stocking days vanished with the coming of the headerharvester and baler which also turned the combinethreshing machine, chaffcutter and traction engine crews into museum pieces.

The pottery gang is no more. Machinery has turned them into a staff of ceramic technicians. Electricity has ruined the market for coal both in the pottery works and the farms. The miners jwho remain are few. Even Ithe railway has now been 'torn up. That unique club of farmers, Addington sale day train passengers, now belong to the Automobile Association and instead of warmly greeting each other with

- “Well, William” and “How ■ are you, David," and spending i two hours in the train in con- ■ versation on crops and stock, , they now pass each other with ; a nod. They have no time to talk, they have their wives with them. Their discussions are organised affairs at the local branch of the Federated Farmers. District Centre I Commercial and social life centred around the local pub. It was the place to cash a cheque, engage shearers, or meet a stock agent. Meetings for charity fairs, bachelors' balls, spinsters’ balls and benedicts’ balls were held there. It was the meeting place for sports bodies, and thinking of sports bodies. Glentunnel, the real village iof the place, no longer holds its New Year's Day sports meeting, with its two special itrains of patrons from as far ■away as Christchurch. The patrons have also joined the I Automobile Association and go to the pictures or pull down their blinds and Swatch television. Only the ihigh country musterers and shepherds remain. No breed' or machine unless as tough, j tenacious, self-reliant and responsible could replace them. The helicopter may do it yet.

Coalgate, at the end of the last century when 1 first knew it, could not be called a village It was too scattered. The name. I think, came with the Deans, and their development of the coal mine. For Coalgate stands at the road junction to the lignite coal seams at Bush Gully, Glentunnel. South Malvern, Whitecliffs and beyond. It was also the I gateway to the Selwyn and jßakaia Gorges. It was on the ■site of the old Whakaepa I Pa of the Maori (the Ngatimamoes) route over Brownings Pass to the pounama (greenstone) workers, the INgatitahu Pontini. The northern boundary consisted of the roadboard offices, the pound and the school. A mile away south was the Watson homestead. “Cardross Park,” and the police station. In between, close to the Railway Station, Higg's and Higg’s. Body's Blacksmiths shops, Pearson's butchery and the saleyards and district dip, stood the Bluff Hotel. Ollier I’ubs There had been other pubs along the route on the way to the Gorges at Glentunnel and South Malvern and at WindI whistle. The South Malvern I Hotel was on the old route through Steventon (Lady ■Barker's old home) and Rockwood. Glentunnel mostly served the miners. These two I were casualties of a reduction poll about 1904. I The Windwhistle Hotel just closed, a casualty to the 1 speed of the traction engine

land ease of transport. The j 18gal. keg and the two | gallon cask of whisky was Ithe more easily transported iand made a 10 to 20 mile ride ;to Windwhistle unnecessary. I Not that in their own habitat were the high country men great drinkers, but in the summer, aided by the hot Inor'wester with its dust, and i long hours and high pitched oratory at dogs, red blooded" !men develop red blooded thirsts. Coalgate Hotel (if Hororata lie excluded, it is now on the direct route) was the last country pub in the Malvern District. The constable at Coalgate maintained law and order from Browning’s Pass . to Greendale and from the Waimakariri to the Rakaia rivers, some 1400 square miles. He did not appear to . be overburdened with official duties but usually he was an asset socially. We had, of course, no delinquents. What tricks we got up to were looked upon as good, clean fun. Entertainments There were, of course, the annual events: the bachelors' | ball, the spinsters’ ball, the benedicts’ and the racing club I ball. Concerts by professional entertainers (who now remembers Fred Foley with his limited repertoire, and 1 repetitions by special request?) and of course the lectures. I have heard there. I in that small place, lectures or speeches by Clement Wragge (radium), Titni Kara (politiIcal history), and Tommy ■ Taylor (prohibition). But by far the most frequent entertainment was parties. No excuse was ever 1 missed for a party or a picnic. ■Surprise parties were frequent: the greater the surprise the better the fun. These were held in anybody's home. Visitors supplied the i eats, drinks and the music, (a kind of “UTU” party in ;reverse). Everybody seemed to have a piano and everyone ■ seemed to play something, recite or sing. If the piano ■was missing and sometimes even if it was not. accordions, violins and cornets could easily be raked up. Many a man coming home late from, say, the show or the races I was confronted with his furI niture stacked on the veranda or on the lawn and the lancers or the quadrilles, the Highland schottish or the mazurka in full swing in his dining or living room. Unwritten Laws When the motor-car and the machine eliminated the I horse and gig. the miner and Ithe pottery gang, and the intimate social and home life, it also destroyed something else—social restraint and discipline. As parties were mainly spontaneous affairs and invitations delivered on ■horseback or any other convenient means, only those of reasonable character were 'acceptable socially. The unwritten laws were rigid. Let anyone get under the weather or any lady leave the hall during a dance or anyone go beyond bounds, their 'social future was dubious to say the. least. Who were the first proprietors when the Bluff Hotel was built in 1872. I don't know. Harry Potten was the first 1 remember. His counter lunches, particularly on sale days, and his menus were noted for their liberality. 1 don’t know whether Harry was traditional but he was followed by some worthy men. Maurice Kenny was the next, and then Jack Richardson and 1 think Jim McCaughan. All were good sportsmen and of course great diplomats: they had to be. About 1912 or later the Homebush .Coal Company found coal at Bush Gully ■ about four miles north of Coalgate. A construction gang ,of 50 or so commenced laying a private railway from Coalgate to the coal seam. At that time, that dearly loved character. Bob Semple, was organising the Labourers' Union. There is a time and place for everything and it surely was not at the pub on the Saturday before a stock clearance sale 'day. I I had better explain these stock clearance sales, because I 'they were one of the high ’events of the district. Every

'year about March the runholders up the Gorge, Dalethorpe, Steventon, Rockwood, Windwhistle, Snowden, Lake Coleridge. Algidus, Glenthorpe. Double Hill and Brackendale, sorted up their stock and drove the surplus ewes, wethers and iambs to Coalgate saleyards. There were no motor lorries, uj - course, but drovers, horses and dogs and ration carts. The number of sheep Ivaried between 40.000 and 60.000 and this usually meant between 70 and 100 drovers, ■shepherds or other co-opted 'staff and at least 100 horses and 150 dogs. This meant horse paddocks and chaff, holding .paddocks and extra men for drafting, and an invasion from the stock firms from Christchurch by train, and down country “cockies" as we called them. Drafting went on for three or four days and then the sale. In that era rural men. especially high country gorge, men, were 100 per cent "Tories.” It was in this! atmosphere that Bob Semple in his innocence called his meeting. Meeting Failed The intrusion of the railway construction gang into the stockmen's citadel, the Bluff Hotel, on such a day was not long a matter of conjecture. High country stockmen, being what they are, decided that hospitality was the weapon When Bob arrived at 11 a m. his “audience to be" were at one with the world and asleep under the gorse bushes and Bob found himself the guest of honour, and a worthy one, of the hardest Tories in New Zealand. I got to know Bob quite well later during my Arthur's Pass days. Knowing what I knew I asked him if he had ever been to the Bluff Hotel at Coalgate. His recital of events to us was something to be remembered. I wonder where Archie Kelly and Jimmy McGrath and “Rummy,” his mates, are now. It was while I was still at the railway station Post Office at Coalgate that the duty of registrar of births, marriages and deaths was imposed on the combined postmaster and station master. His first marriage came along too soon. The party duly applied for the licence and the new Registrar got into the book of words, on marriages. The party came along, a day or two later, about 11 a.m. Marriage Cancelled The Registrar stalled and asked them to come back at 2 p.m. The interval was occupied fully by an> intense staff meeting. In the meantime the happy pair adjoined to the Bluff Hotel. At 2 p.m., a heavily fortified groom and a flushed, if not blushing, bride turned up and the necessary ceremony was performed. everything except the collection of the fee. Negotiations began by a visit by the registrar to the pub. He returned later without the fee,’ rather too serene, but wondering whether the pair were duly married. About 5 he went down again and informed the bridegroom that he had cancelled the wedding and that he was no longer married. Later that evening the bride and groom turned up and the ceremony performed once more and the fee duly paid. After the pubs at South

Malvern and Glentunnel were closed the miners and the pottery workers visited the Bluff Hotel on pay nights. Eventually the visits became organised and the Glentunnel people bought a drag to cover the one and a half miles there and cart themselves and their luggage home. It was often accompanied by some members of the band. For the information of present members of the Automobile Association a drag was a four wheeler and would seat about 20 or 30 if pressed. It would be drawn by three horses, or a four in hand on festive occasions. They were used every year to carry race patrons from the special trains arriving at Coalgate for the Hororata races. Alas the specials, the patrons, the drags and the races are no more. The last time I rode in one was from Ross Station to Ross township. South Westland. It was labelled “St Albans via Springfield Road " (Christchurch had been its home town). The Great Have When the construction of the Lake Coleridge power station was commenced Archie Blackwood (Blackie for short), the chief engineer, used all seven traction engine plants for transport of equipment and supplies from the railway at Coalgate to the Lake. The back loading usually was wool from the then existing wool washes: 90 to 111 bales on the three trailer units between the engine and the caboose. On one occasion all plants arrived at the railway on the same day. The crews put up a sweepstake for the fastest trip to the Lake 30 miles away and back fully loaded both ways, the finishing point to be the pub. The crucial point was the one track ford across the Selwyn river just below the bridge half a mile from the finish. As the news spread, the whole district became involved in a betting spree. At 1 a.m. next morning the traction engines could he heard at Hororata four miles away, Ken Gwatkin in his Baldwin, proving the winner of the “Rakaia Gorge Derby." By common consent the pub remained open al! night. What else could it do with the constable as judge? Whether the high country men still bring their stock to Coalgate each year, whether those tall stories of musters, horses and dogs and dog runs are still told, whether those practical jokes are still perpetrated, whether that painting which hung in the private bar of the Bluff Hotel, of the Prince of all yarn spinners, "Soldier Jack," went up with the Bluff Hotel, I don't know. I expect that all now remains will be two burnt grey chimneys, tall and lonely like Easter Island monuments pondering on the past.