Pioneering car journey had start at cycle shop in Cathedral Square

Press, 5 May 1989, Page 31

Pioneering car journey had start at cycle shop in Cathedral Square

CARS

Neil Clarkson

South Canterbury is no stranger to debates on who performed great deeds first.

A well-publicised point of conjecture is whether Richard Pearce flew before the Wright Brothers. Regrettably, the weight of opinion is with the Americans.

South Canterbury can equally lay claim to one area of debate on the flightless equivalent, the motor car.

Most agree Carl Benz was the father of the modern motor car with his “motor wagen" of 1886. But who owned the first motor car in New Zealand? Was it imported or locally made?

There have been several claimants to the title.

Some give credit to the Timaru engineer, Cecil Wood. Wood was the dux of Lyttelton School and was taught his early engineering at a bicycle factory in Christchurch before returning home to Timaru.

It is claimed Wood was mobile in New Zealand’s first motor car in Timaru in 1896.

Another man in the reckoning was the Wellington businessman, William McLean, who in 1898 returned from a trip to Europe with two motor cars he named “Petrolette” and “Lightning.” It all seems straightforward enough except for the claims to the title made by Mr F. R. Dennison.

The argument, it seems, was bubbling in the 1930 s when Mr Dennison gave this reasoned account to back his claim:

“When I passed through the outskirts of Timaru in my car in June, 1900, Mr C. W. Wood was on the look-out for me and located me when I was purchasing a tin of kerosene at the south end of the town. "He took me to see his first car, which he was building and which was not near completion, and could not have possibly been on the road running under its own power for some considerable time after that date.

“As regards the late Mr McLean’s cars landing in New Zealand in 1898, the accuracy of this is in

question. It is my belief that the late Mr N. Oates imported the first car into this country which landed here fully one month after my car was on the road. The proof of this I can furnish.”

Mr Dennison remained adamant throughout his life that he owned and built New Zealand’s first car.

In April, 1955, he explained that Cecil Wood only entered the motor trade in 1915 when he bought an agency in Timaru from Mr Dennison’s nephew, Mr F. Baker.

What appears central to the argument is Mr Dennison’s definition of a car.

He accepts that in 1898 Cecil Wood made what he described as a “threewheeler cycle” which had an engine fitted.

“This could not be construed as a motor car,” said Mr Dennison. “Besides, this cycle did not travel any great distance. I produced New Zealand’s first motor car in May, 1900, in my cycle and engineering shop at 32 Cathedral Square.”

Mr Dennison’s argument may be flawed,; however.

The motor wagen produced by Carl Benz was a three-wheeler yet this was widely acclaimed as the first modern motor car.

Mr Dennison’s claims as to the endurance of the Wood three-wheeler do, however, have some precedent.

It was the same question which left the Ger-

mans and French at loggerheads over who was the father of the modern motor car.

The Germans naturally enough look to Benz and his tolerably reliable motor wagen. The French look to Edouard De-lamare-Deboutteville who built a vehicle of sorts in 1884.

But the Frenchman’s rather crude motor carriage broke in two on its first run. Credit therefore went to Benz. The French are not without ammmunition, however. They can point to the fact that Benz’s three-wheeler ran so poorly on its first run that all further testing was done at night. It is hardly surprising that Dennison raised the question of endurance when comparing his pioneer motor vehicle with that made by Wood.

Mr Dennison drove his car from Christchurch to Oamaru in June, 1900 — just one month after he finished building it. He built the entire car in Christchurch from raw materials except the rims, tyres and chains. The tyres and rims were donated by the Dunlop Tyre Company. The engine was a water-cooled four-stroke horizontal open-crank engine which burned kerosene.

It had a single direct gear from the engine shaft driving through to the rear axle through two heavy-duty chains mounted side by side.

The car featured a cone clutch. The coachwork was far from inspiring. The “Lyttelton Times” of May 9, 1900, said it looked like a packing case on four wheels. It had no mudguards, windshield or hood.

On a good road it would travel 50km/h and would burn about a litre of kerosene per 10km (about 30 miles per gallon). Early one wintry June morning a few wellwishers saw him off from Cathedral Square on the first leg of his journey to Oamaru.

His journey went remarkably well until he reached the Selwyn River, which was unbridged. Mr Dennison, in a 50-

year-old account, said of the river: “It looked a formidable spectacle. However, I gave it a go and got absolutely stuck in the boulders, loose shingle and water; the engine broke away under full throttle, the two driving chains broke. “As the car was light, being under six hundredweight, I pulled her back on to dry land, fitted two new chains, cleared away all the boulders and made a clearer track across the entire riverbed.”

Mr Dennison then negotiated a successful crossing. The engine, luckily, was mounted high in the chassis and remained above the water. He had a much-de-served break for lunch before setting off for Rakaia.

Mr Dennison kept the engine at maximum for the trip. Occasionally he would operate the clutch before leaping out and pushing his car over areas of difficult terrain. He made Rakaia by nightfall,*’ apparently making an in-cident-free crossing of the river.

His car, bearing what could well be the first sponsor’s name on a car — “Dunlop Tyres” — fired into life the next morning and Ashburton beckoned.

Just three kilometres from Ashburton his rear axle snapped. He removed it and carried it to Ashburton where he repaired it with the help of a local cycle engineer, Mr Swartz. Mr Swartz lent him a bicycle and he rode back to his car, refitted the axle, and made Ashburton by nightfall.

Mr Dennison described the road from Tinwald to the Rangitata River as terrible.

“It was just like a ploughed paddock and at about three o’clock in the afternoon I was only a little more than halfway along that road, and was fairly exhausted, when a farmer and his wife appeared in a gig. “I asked them if they could oblige me with something to eat. Good folk that they were, they told me to call at the first house about a mile distant and they turned back and

made me the best meal I have ever had.”

He spent the night at Arundel Hotel before driving on to Temuka where he was met by a group of men, including the mayor, Mr Toomey. They inspected his car before taking him for dinner at a local hotel.

Mr Toomey, who was publisher of the “Temuka Leader,” invited Mr Dennison to view a new engine recently installed at his printing works. Local experts had failed to get the engine started.

Mr Dennison saw that the timing was awry and offered to put it right on the condition Mr Toomey sent the so-called experts home.

This was agreed and Mr Dennison set about his task with a few spanners, a block and tackle, and help from a labourer. Mr Dennison succeeded in getting the engine started. He stayed that night at the mayor’s home. He learned that daily newspapers were publishing accounts of his journey. Seemingly to fool the scribes, he decided to dodge Timaru by going round the outskirts.

He bypassed Timaru, arriving at Studholme Junction the next night. The following day he arrived at his birthplace, Hilderthorpe. Two days later he arrived in Oamaru and set off on the return journey two weeks later. He was not, however, to enjoy the same success.

Mr Dennison was driving at more than 50km/h down a big terrace towards the Waitaki River when the fuel tank, holding six gallons of benzine, erupted in flames behind his seat. He leapt for safety as his motor car was engulfed by fire. The blazing car came to rest against a nearby railway bank.

Mr Dennison summed up his misfortune when he wrote: “So that was the end of that.”

He managed to salvage the engine, which he reconditioned and fitted with a petrol carburettor and electric ignition. The engine was put in another car which gave several years of useful service, according to Mr Dennison.

Six years later he imported what he believed was the first Ford in the country. The Model C was much sought after for hire but, ironically, Mr Dennison could not find a buyer here. It was sold eventually to a Melbourne man and shipped to Australia. Mr Dennison went on to import other cars through Ford agencies he held in the South Canterbury area. These were sold in a more receptive market.

Another of Mr Dennison’s reminiscences centred on a rather bold theatrical production in Oamaru called “The Great Millionaire.”

Mr Bland Holt, said to be of theatrical fame and “very well known in America,” was the main actor in this production.

Mr Holt asked for the loan of two cars for the production and Mr Dennison agreed, giving Mr Holt and a fellow actor the necessary driving lessons.

Opening night came and the cars were placed behind the curtains in readiness for the opening, which was billed as “a sensational motor scene.”

The performance began and Mr Holt’s fellow actor, Mr Maxwell, drove his car across the stage.

Mr Holt was less successful. He apparently lost control and drove from the stage. The car overturned and Bland Holt was pinned. Mr Dennison rushed from backstage and switched off the ignition which threatened to ignite petrol leaking on to the floor.

Mr Dennison continues his account of some 20 years later: “With the assistance of a few willing hands we lifted the car off Mr Holt and placed it on the stage; the band which had previously jumped for their lives quickly assembled and struck up a rollicking tune, and the play went on.

“In fact most of the audience thought it was all part of the play. Unfortunately, Mr Holt was slightly hurt and had to give up his profession.” Mr Bland Holt, it seemed, had lost his drive.