NEW KNIGHT HAS HAD VARIED LIFE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 19267, 2 January 1931, Page 6

NEW KNIGHT HAS HAD VARIED LIFE.

HONOUR IS PLEASING TO HOSTS OF FRIENDS. Sounds of a flute issued from an open window when a “ Star ” reporter called on Mr A. D. Dobson this morning tc add one more to the host of congratulations this gentleman received on his knighthood. Between telephone rings offering good wishes, Sir Arthur, his shirt sleeves was amusing himself at his favourite hobby, playing on the fine instrument that even Lemone coveted. “ You ask me how it feels to be knighted.” said he with his engaging smile. “ Well, to tell you the truth, I have had so many ups and downs in, my life that I don’t know that such things really matter, but I am most pleased that at last the profession has been recognised—for that is how I take the honour. When one thinks of the years of splendid work that has been done by surveyors in New Zealand, one realises that it is time it received some recognition. I have been a practising engineer for seventy-five years now, and this is the first time anything has been done to show appreciation of it. Marvellous work has been done, and it must be remembered that the work of the surveyor is not like that of some other professions. In some walks one can make mistakes and cover them up, but every mistake made by a surveyor is bound to come to light. There are some remarkable men in the profession, much better than I am, and I don’t kow why they picked on me for the honour.” The Wild West Coast. This young old man—he is eightynine, but does not look sixty, and talks with the gusto of youth—went on to tell of some of the picturesque incidents in his long and varied life. He is so old that he is a link with events that for the present generation are merely historic. Apprenticed to his father, his first engineering experience was actually on the Lyttelton Tunnel, and at the age of twenty-one—in 1862 he took a contract from the Provincial Government to survey the terra incognita of the West Coast. The stretch of land he was to explore w T as from the Grey to Abbot Head, a stretch of seventy miles with its wild hinterland. Maoris had been overland from Canterbury, after greenstone, and one white man had been across, but the only way when young Dobson, greatly daring, took on his contract, was by sea. He chartered a fifteen-ton craft at Nelson, packed all his provisions for twelve men for twelve or thirteen months in tin-lined drapery cases and soldered them up. which turned out to be a wise precaution for, after being five weeks at sea, the vessel w T as cast ashore on the West Coast, and but for the fact that the cases were sealed up he would have been without food. His task lookfed hopeless. Seven men had bee# drowned in preliminary' survey work, and his gang took frignt. Giving them orders for their pay in Christchurch, he sent the lot back, and decided that the only way to carryout his job was to “go Maori ” and employ the sons of the soil.

He “Goes Maori”. With a tenacity that marked his whole career he started to learn Maori, which he learned mainly’- through the use of a Maori testament, the process being much simplified by the fact that when a boy he nad to learn the collect and gospel for the day, so that he was familiar with the narrative and could get the drift of the translation very readily. His dusky team worked admirably, much to the surprise of incredulous pakeha friends of his, who laughed at the idea. Young Dobson lived like a native, and most of the time wore the kilt—peculiar to Maoris and the Gael—more often than he wore the trousers, insignia of the pakeha. He made a good job of it, and to-day the name of the Dobson family on many prominent features of that part of the world testify to subsequent recognition of the part he played in opening up the wild west. Dons Diver’s Suit. Subsequently he did a lot of surveying between Nelson and Westland, and when the Midland Railway was projected he was sent Home to represent the New Zealand Government in the negotiations for letting the work to a contractor. Contracting and engineering in Christchurch with his father, followed, and when things took a turn for the worse, he gaily went over to Australia to try* his luck, which has always been good, and there he got into a big harbour contract in Victoria, byaccident apparently, but really owing to his push and amazing industry. Incidentally he did his own diving, though he knew nothing about it previously, and on one occasion outwitted a gang of assistant divers who were “going slow”. It is characteristic of the man that after he had exposed the men and sacked the lot he took them all back when they admitted they had made a mistake, and after that no boss could have been better served. Arthur Dobsqp always had a wav of handling men, and he attributes much of his success to the fact that when on the Lyttelton Tunnel job boxing was one of the main pastimes, owing to the presence of an amateur champion on the engineering staff, and young Dobson took his full share in the contests. A Lively Fossil. He made money in Victoria, but lost it in the memorable bank smashes after the land boom crashed, and then he returned to New Zealand, where he resumed his work, and carried out many big jobs in Canterbury-, eventually ending up as engineer to the Christchurch City Council. When he got to eighty years of age he “ felt the council might think he was getting to be an old fossil,” and so he resigned. Anything but a fossil, he still retains his great zest for life, and agrees that hobbies keep a man young. He played in an orchestra for forty years, and in addition to music, dabbles in languages, and is a keen geologist. He has never lost his regard for the Maori lan guage, and is still “ trying to work it up.” He is keen on motoring, and if the truth were known it would probably be found that he is prouder of his nickname of “ Dad ” bestowed on him by his friends of the Canterbury Automobile Association than he is of his new title. A remark overheard in Merivale Lane by the “ Star ” reporter this morning sums up the pleasure the knighthood has given the hosts of friends he has amassed during his eighty-nine years. I. "winder what dear old Arthur is doing.” said the passer-by-, “ I am delighted they have given him a knighthood.”