Old memories

Northland Age, Volume 6, Issue 29, 9 April 1937, Page 6

Old memories

THE DESERTED VILLAGE [by T.A.M.] “ Rembrance wakes, with all her heavy train, wells in my breast, and turns the past to pain.” —Goldsmith. The timber industry was a great factor in the prosperity of Auckland in the early days, and the kauri forests and the mills employed a large number of men. Dreadful accidents often occurred, of a pathetic nature, and cast a gloom over the industry for a time. Cordial relations always existed between the bushmen and the mill hands. Some of the old mills and villages that were built up round them, have now entirely disappeared, Aratapu and Te Kopuru, on the Northern Wairoa river are numbered with the past, and as we ponder over these old scenes, our thoughts turn to Time the Builder, and Time the Destroyer. Life is one long procession of events. It is said that the wise men are spectators of all Time and Eternity. The sun rises and sets, the silvery moon shines and the stars twinkle just the same, but it seems that the rising sun has lost its welcome and the silvery moon and the twinkling stars, their charms. Where is now the merry party of long ago? Timber Mills of Years Ago The first mill was built at Aratapu in 1874, later on two more mills were erected, side by side, and called No. 1 and No. 2 mill, the old mill ceasing operations altogether. In 1887 there were three million feet of sawn timber stacked in the yards at Aratapu and a great event occurred, the arrival of two large overseas steamers, the “Glacier” and the “Nemice,” each of a freight capacity of 11 million feet of sawn timber. The mill employees undertook to load the vessels for the magnificant sum of ten pence an hour, the mills closing down for the time being. The timber was all passed on board by hand and the work carried out in record time, 48 hours for each vessel. This shipment was an epoch in those days, as although large shipments of bulk timber had been shipped to Australia this was the first large shipment of sawn timber. Life in a Mill Village There was an hotel at Aratapu and a few residents, but they were fenced off from the mill village by a nine foot board fence and it was considered a misdemeanor for a mill hand to visit the hotel, and if continued in, resulted in dismissal, which W’as a serious thing in those days. The mill village was a community strictly to itself, the mill management exercising more or less a parental control over the inhabitants, all this being done to turn out good men and women, and make them good citizens. There were all the amenities necessary to the comfort and well being of the employees and their families, there was a butcher’s shop, a baker’s shop and a general store controlled by the mill, as well as a boarding house. The employees were each given a pass book and if they required anything they secured it from the stores and it was entered in their book at the time of purchase, the book was returned to the mill office a week before pay day to be checked and the amount of the purchases deducted from the pay; there was no Truck Act in those days. The married men were given comfortable cottages and the single men huts; the hours of work were long, 10 hours and 20 minutes a day, on Saturdays work ceased at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. The wages were small, but there were compensations, constant dean work, good food and housing, besides provision for the enjoyment of the leisure hours. There was a splendid hall and dances were a regular occurence, as well as dramatic and other entertainments, all with local talent. There were meetings of the Friendly Society and religious services were held regularly. The Band of Hope A feature of the week was the meeting of the Band of Hope every Wednesday evening, everybody turning up to this meeting, which was opened by the singing of a Moody and Sanky hymn, and then followed an address by the mill manager on some subject pertaining to the welfare of the people. There were recitations, songs, comic and sentimen-

tal, musical sections and sometimes dialogues; all items were well rendered and heartily applauded, everybody doing their bit to make the evening as pleasant as possible and the audience was a sea of happy smiling faces. If you looked close you might see some coy maiden and a shy youth exchanging signs known to love. The proceedings ended with another hymn and everyone went home chatting freely and quietly contented. There was also a library, second to none outside the city of Auckland. Here everyone was on the same footing, a man’s own ability marking him out. Sometimes a regatta was held, this drawing visitors from far and near, as did other sports and picnics. The annual sports were a great event, the great feature being the tug-of-war between the Te Kopuru and Aratapu teams, but more anon about this event; the obstacle race was a stiff proposition as there were some stiff obstacles to negotiate. The Local Constable The local constable had been a member of the armed constabulary and one night when coming off duty at the pub, he stumbled over a prostrate man in front of his gate, turning his “bulls-eye” lantern on the ground he found that it was Old Mac, a noted resident living a few miles away, so he drags him into the lockup and bolts the door. Mac wakes up just as it was breaking day and was astounded to find himself in the lock-up; he could not make it out, then he heard the bolt rattle and the constable stepped in. “What am I doing here?” Mac asked. The constable cut him short, “Get out of this quick,” he said, “and run for your life, don’t stop running till you get home, and don’t let anyone see you.” Mac often laughed over this incident. Te Kopuru lies three miles down the river from Aratapu, and in the early days Dr. Campbell built a mill there and gave the name to the place but he lost a lot of money over the mill before it was taken over, with other mills, by the Kauri Timber Company. Every year the Doctor gave his employees a right royal Christmas dinner and he also provided a fine library, with a famous collection of the best books. His name was greatly honoured at Te Kopuru. Rivalry on the Sports Field The inhabitants of Aratapu and Te Kopuru were always on the best of terms, although good natured rivalry existed on the sport’s field. The greatest event was the tug-of-war at the annual sports, the prize was a shield made of the best mottled kauri with the name of the teams worked on the shield. The conditions, were: ten men a side, bare feet or socles. By winning the shield three times in succession, the Te Kopuru mill secured the trophy and it occupied a ccrspicuous position in the library, admired by visitors and looked on with pride by the Te Kopuru people. It liung there for some years without a challenge, the prowess of the Te Kopuru men could not be denied, but lhe» the Aratapu mill was only working intermittently. Then the mill got busy again, working lull time and there was a whisper that a challenge was to be entered for the shield. There was a great how-do-you-do, excitement prevailed, little groups of men could be seen here and there discussing the news from various angles. One says that Aratapu has no right to challenge for the shield as it is ours; another says that we will pull them for ten pounds and so it goes on. At last the challenge arrived from the Aratapu mill; a meeting was called, and it was decided to accept the challenge and to pull for the shield; a team was picked and training operations commenced at once. Every evening the team was at it, they would hook on to a telegraph pole or get a scratch team to pull against them. All were in earnest, the honour of Te Kopuru was at stake; they heard that Aratapu had something up their sleeves, a heavy, powerful team, but they were undaunted, although they were only a medium weight team. Although there were some misgivings, this did not shake the courage of the Te Kopuru team. A Famous Tug-of-M ar The great day arrived but there was no excitement that morning, everyone seemed to carry some weighty matter on their minds. The sports ground was half way to Aratapu, the band formed up and with the tug-of-war team just behind, they moved off to a lively tune, the vil*

lagers falling in behind the team. Arriving at the sports ground they found the Aratapu team already there and they, with their followers, had a very confident look. So intent was everyone in the contest that little was said and the committee spoke in whispers; the pi'elininaries were soon over and the teams took their places amidst dead silence and the people belonging to each mill move up to the support of their respective team. At the word each team droptied .umuitaueous'y, it was good work; they then hung on like bulldogs, not a move either way; the faces of the men wore a determined look, with eyes fixed and muscles straining. Silence reigned supreme, the spectators strained their necks and gazed eagerly with pent up feelings. At last Te Kopuru was on the move, slowly, very slowly, Aratapu’s weight was telling; one man was on the line, the crowd was getting restive, still all was quiet, over the line he went, then another—would Te Kopuru hold them?—another man went over very slowly; both teams were doing their best, and at last Te Kopuru held the move, both teams hung for a minute or two. A voice shouted “Heave, Te Kopuru!” and the team did move, Aratapu had shot their bolt ; bedlam broke loose. Te Kopuru had their opponents going, and the last few with the anchor man came with a run—Te Kopuru had won. There was great excitement. When everyone had got their wind and returned to normal again, up went three cheers for Aratapu, to which Ai-atapu responded with three more for Te Kopuru. Everyone laughed and joked and told of former contests, the women yelled themselves hoarse and broke their umbrellas on the contestants’ backs; yes, it was good to be there. The band formed up and played the shield back to its long resting place in the Te Kopuru library. “And now, on this once busy scene, The domestic cow crops the verdure green.”