Thames

Korero (AEWS), Volume 2, Issue 22, 6 November 1944, Page 3

Thames

KF KOR E R 0 REPORT

HUNTO B.G. AGED HUNTING Song, Dodo—hurdler—reached OVER THE FENCE AND BIT ME. No friendly nip either ; a bite with ears laid low, stamp of a hoof, rat-trap snap of teeth. Maybe a good sign for the summer season, an indication that winning the Great Northern Hurdles two years running was the idea. As a pointer to form the bite might be worth remembering ; as a welcome to Thames it, to say the least, lacked warmth. I looked at my hand and wondered where I had heard Thames was a friendly place. Hunto went back to his grass. A scow on the river, smoke from a chimney, mist over the high hills, the roads long and white, pubs and churches, houses and shops looking old, straggling. Thames, early morning. No sign of life. ' So in the main street of Thames you can be bitten by a champion thoroughbred. But there is more to do than that. You can give an order for a railway engine, as many as you like, you can let a contract for a lighthouse as high as you wish. If you don’t mind the wet you can go down a gold-mine at any time of day or night ; if the work appeals you can take a course at the School of Mines. If it’s fishing, there’s fishing. The scenery round the coast, over the hills, up the river. Or you can get lost in the history of this town, its wild tough beginnings, its progress and development. Pubs — there are thirteen of them. Churches—there are thirteen of them, too. In Thames there are a hundred things to do. But don’t get any wrong ideas : there are men in blue there too : they’ll cancel your driving license, fine you £25 as quick in Thames as anywhere. Thames is no larger than a hundred other towns in New Zealand, in many ways it is no different. But it has a lot more besides. ” The directors report that contact has been made with the main reef at the New No. 6 level at approximately 100 ft. below the lowest previous workings . . . According to the company’s geologist the reef and country at the new low level are favourable to re-depositions of free gold with secondary enrichments likely to a further depth of 400 ft. It is expected that base metals will provide

an important supplementary source of revenue . . Newspaper report of Sylvia Mines Consolidated, Ltd. (Thames). And not a newspaper report of 1874, even 1924, but 1944. Gold is where you find it. Thames is one of the places. You’re not there long before you hear tales of gold, stories more brightly colourful than the metal. Tons of stories for tons of gold. They’re still looking for, still finding, gold. But in these days of 1944 they’re finding it in ounces, deep, wetly down into the earth. A handful of men. The one mine. Not much more than fifty years ago they were finding it by the ton. Scores of mines. Thousands of miners. Hundreds of thousands of pounds, millions. It’s a different Thames now, but gold made its beginnings, madly swung it to its feet, shoved, pushed, furiously rushed it on its way. At times, changing times, through depression and setback, knocked, jolted, breathless, it has looked back sadly for days past, hopefully for those to come. But it has never stood still for long. Soon hurrying, calmer,' slower, more' carefully on its way. Thames doesn’t depend on the yellow value of that metal for its life these days. Security, the ways and means of living

come from other sources. But that doesn’t stop the conviction that there’s still gold in them there hills, more gold than ever came out of them ; it doesn’t lessen the eager hope of its discovery. A bush wilderness jealously guarded against pakeha intrusion by its Native owners, Thames district before 1867 was hardly known and not bothered with. Three thousand and more miners had rushed the Coromandel in 1852, arrangements had been made with the Maoris, but disappointing returns and the counter attraction of other fields in the South Island soon led to its desertion. In 1861 there was fresh activity ; after two years’ sluicing, metal valued at £II,OOO was recovered. Death in the night, the daytime too—-the Waikato War, 1863. The Maoris of the district took part, the Coromandel field was again deserted. And still no eyes, no thoughts, were turned towards Thames. “ Many men classed as labourers are starving for bread, for work that will buy that bread.” It’s a sentence from a report describing the conditions in Auckland during the economic depression of 1867-69. The removal of the seat of government to Wellington, the withdrawal of the Imperial troops after the Waikato War, left business stagnant; bankruptcies were frequent, unemployment figures high. Work had to be found. The Provincial Government made arrangements with the Maori landowners for prospecting the Thames

creeks£5,000 was offered as reward for the discovery of a payable goldfield. Signs of gold were found, nuggets, payable quantities. The news quickly spread. August 1 the day, 1867 the year, that the Thames district was officially proclaimed a goldfield. Five bob with

a pint of beer

thrown in. That was the cost of the trip by steamer. Decks were crowded, a ship a day wasn’t enough. The rush was on. Disappointment was the first reaction, dissatisfaction the second. On the first few days prospectors returned from territory which has since made fortunes, wanted back the £i they had paid for their mining rights. The blocks of land in which prospecting was allowed by the Maoris were limited ; in the early days the commissioner of the field, his assistant, and two policemen were kept busy investigating Native complaints, bringing back from forbidden territory the trespassers who were not satisfied with what was available. Quarrels broke out, at times a serious disturbance was feared. But gold was trickling in. Within three years there was a population estimated at 20,000. Fortunes had been madeand lost. Canvastown, the hundreds of bell-tents, had been replaced by wooden buildings, by houses that were dismantled in Auckland and re-erected in Thames. Companies had been formed, the capital found, mining tramways, roads, and wharf accommodation provided by the Provincial Government. In 1868, 11,585 miners’ rights were issued ; in 1869, 9,438 ; in 1870, 33.296. Some of the returns were phenomenal. The Caledonian, the mine to make the richest strike, crushed thousands of

ounces from its quartz and in one year returned more than £500,000 to shareholders. Nearly two hundred claims were yielding gold ; in the Thames of those days it was impossible to get away from the rumble and thunder of batteries of crushers. The greatest bonanza of the field and one of the richest of all time was the amazing patch worked by the Caledonian, Golden Crown, and Manukau mines. They produced wealth that made the Thames world famous. Many of the other claims were not so lucky : the gold they found wasn’t enough to pay for the axle grease of their trucks. But those days are gone. The days of the ninety-one hotels : nearly all of them concentrated on bar trade only, and a roaring trade it was. The days of the week-ends when the miners came into Thames from the hills, the bachelor dandies in their Sunday-Saturday-night best of check shirts of flaming colours, moleskin trousers, wide silk sashes, broad-brimmed felt hats. The days when the streets were not wide enough for the milling, jostling crowds ; when theatre managers knew Thames with its Theatre Royal and Academy of Music as the most profitable show town in New Zealand. The days when a lynchhanging was cancelled only after there had been tension on the rope, the sentence commuted to a severe flogging. The

days when shares rose in value to more than £2OO ; when the sharebrokers at Scrip Corner used to walk up and down the streets crying out the shares and their prices. They did good business. One coalheaver on the wharf, tired of his job, decided to try his hand at brokerage, Commission the first day netted him £2O. He bought a “ ready reckoner,” decided to settle down to the job. He died worth £20,000. But those days are gone, most of the early pioneers with them. The population of Thames district has dropped from about 20,000 to 8,000 and of Thames Borough itself to 4,200. To-day riches are poured out in another and more stable form—the produce of farm and field. What was once largely swamp land has become rich fertile soil. The two hundred square miles or more of the Hauraki Plains were once mostly under water, a vast swamp ; the small blocks of land free of water were always in danger of flooding when the rivers broke through and over their low banks. Had there been purchasers this land could have been bought at one time by the acre for the jingle of pennies. But there weren’t. Now it is as valuable as any farm country in New Zealand ; for one slice of 100 acres there were no fewer than 350 applicants. The greater part of these acres of wetness —-the Piako Swamp it was called —has been

drained and dredged, at first by private enterprise, later under Government direction. Hundreds of thousands of pounds went down the drains—the drains, miles long, that carried the water away to leave this reclaimed land capable of returning highest - quality produce. Thousands of acres of rich alluvial flats have been drained, roaded, fenced, and subdivided into farms and reserves. So well has the water been removed that in many cases it has been necessary to sink wells for household and farm use. Gold bumped Thames on the map ; the richness of the Hauraki Plains has kept it there, its value no less than that of the metal. And as the boom town of Thames was the natural outlet and centre of the seventies, so now is it the outlet and centre of these farm lands. To-day, at least through most of the district, the sheets of water, the stout kahikatea and the white-starred manuka, the oozy wilderness of ferns and rushes and flax, have been replaced by white

dusty roads, fencing wire and rails, blue-gum trees, flocks and herds. Dairy and cheese factories are dotted over the plains, cream-cans stand at the farm gates. And those squat buildings clean in the morning sunshine are shearingsheds, wool-stores. It’s wonderful grazingnothing could be better to fatten the cattle, nothing could be better for the horses. Growing of fruit in the district is profitable because of the climate and the soil. All classes of fruit, including lemons and grapes. And apricots. It’s a funny thing about apricots : Thames is the only place in the Auckland Province where the trees fruit successfully ; in other districts, even at Coromandel which is only a few miles north on the same coast, the trees produce enormous growths of wood but very little else. Nobody quite understands the reason must be something to do with the soil. You wander slowly in the September sunshine of the Thames main street. Lots of people now, and they’re not

hurrying either. A youth passes with a rifle at the trail, a sugar-bag on his arm, a dog at his heels. Probably rabbits in that bag. It’s easy to see horse-shoes are more plentiful than tires and petrol. There are lots of horses in Thames besides Hunto ; they mightn’t be as fast, they’re Certainly more shaggy, but at least they’re friendly. Steady, surefooted, they don’t mind the steep hills : one shepherd’s horse could turn on threepence, and he didn’t mean sixpence. More dogs than horses though, and they find the centre of the main street as comfortable a place as any to sleep in the sun. Lots of shops, country shops ; and if you’re from the city you find it strange to see the latest fashions in hats and frocks in one half of the window, saddles and axes and spades in the other. It’s strange, you think, that in a small country centre like Thames you have two foundries as large, as busy, as modern as most in New Zealand. Thames must be low in the' list of places you’d think likely to make heavy railway engines, huge cast-iron lighthouses, or, in some cases to their own design, steamship engines. Boilers, giant timber-haulers, and stone-crushers are just a matter of course. Two hundred men are employed, both firms are kept busy—the last years to a great extent with munitions contracts. Both firms, too, have been established for more than seventy years. And the dates of their establishment give you the answer to your wondering 1869, 1870. Gold-mining days. You remember the stories of the batteries of crushers needed for that quartz. Here is where they were cast. Business increased, the shops were gradually added to. With the decline of mining in the district, the firms’ work turned in other directions. One shop specialized in the manufacture of sawmilling and bushworking machinery, log-haulers in par-

ticular. Some of the largest kauri trees ever felled in New Zealand were from the Thames. Locally made haulers were large and powerful enough to bring out quickly whole trunks long distances over rough, tough bush and hill country without the construction of miles of expensive tram-lines. One of these haulers proved its strength at the Billy Goat, Kauaeranga Bush (not many miles from Thames) : for nearly a mile down a grade of i in 3 it lowered at one time loads of from 6,000 ft. to 10,000 ft. of timber. The foundry managers say there is little disadvantage from their apparently isolated position. Scow, railway, and truck provide fast, frequent transport ; a rush job can be delivered from the foundry to Auckland in less than two hours. The modern tendency, especially since the war, has been for manufacturing concerns to transfer and expand their premises to the country. The two foundries at Thames were seventy years ahead of the times.

Thames is a friendly place. Hunto's welcome gave quite the wrong impression. And it’s a happy place. The even quietness of that town would not easily be disturbed. Once the townspeople and the boot-repairer had differences of opinion about prices and quality and the like. But there were no- black looks or angry words. There was little said at all : the young men of the town simply didn’t wear any shoes or boots for a week. It was summer and they padded round the streets with feet bare. The hot pavements made no difference. On Saturday night they dressed with usual care for the pictures ; navy blue suits were as neatly pressed, white collars as stiffly starched, hair as carefully brushed. But the ban, this movement of protest, had not been lifted, they went to the pictures without shoes. It wasn’t long after that the shoe-repairer left the town. One small boat, two men, a few hours, two hundred and fifty-four dozen snapper. Estimated return — £80. Not a bad day’s fishing, and with £BO in their pockets they wouldn’t mind if the catch the next day wasn’t as large. It’s a pile of fish, but the Firth of Thames can spare them ; these days, especially, the public can use them. It’s one of the profitable industries' of Thames.

Three freezing companies make a lot of ice, work hours of overtime. The labels on the crates in their packing-rooms surprise you : all over the North Island down to Wellington orders are regularly sent. That packing is simple enough. The fish are taken from the cooler, cleaned, weighed, and flopped into the boxes. A thick slab of ice is broken over the top. Four smacks of a hammer, the lid is on. She’s all set to go. Many of the trawlers of the peacetime fishing fleet have been serving since the war as minesweepers. That explains the general shortage of fish in city shops; it explains why crates from Thames have labels for places so far away. These days the price of nets is high, the cost of running and manning a boat is high,

but the price of fish is high, too. Returns are good. Snapper in the winter, snapper and flounder in the summer—they make the main catches. Crayfish and sharks are good side lines (these sharks do make holes in the fishingmen’s nets, but not their pockets : the new industry in New Zealand of processing fish oil has made the price for shark livers high enough for the net-mending not to matter so much).

If you don’t wish to be bitten by more than Hunto there’s one thing in Thames to be careful about, not to be too curious over. It’s the Thames deep-water harbour. They spent ; they built a new wharf, approaches to that wharf, a railway siding, tide walls, they dredged and they dredged. They did everything, in fact, but get a deep-water harbour, even a shallow - water harbour. Unexpected difficulties came to light from that sea. The scheme had to be completely abandoned. But the money had been spent. It’s a sore point. Now they haven’t a harbour at all except for the small wharf on the river where the scows and fishing-boats slip in over the mud with the 5 ft. of water at high tide. Three days it’s been since we came with the scow “ Pono ” out of the night to find Thames sleeping in the grey light.

It’s been pleasant, it’s been interesting, we’ve liked the peace and quiet of the sunshine, the people, the way they live. There may still be gold in those rugged hills, but the brightness of colour that we see is the hot flame of gorse—gorse which has been spreading dangerously since the wild goats have been shot from those hills. It’s a nuisance, but it’s beautiful. One day we’ll come back to Thames. There’s a lot we haven’t seen, a lot we want to do. And from that little town nothing could be better than taking one of those horses from the hills to see some more of the Coromandel Peninsula. Cabbage Bay, Gumtown, Slipper Island, Shoe Island, Kikowhakarere Bay, Castle Rock—we want to make sure that those • names on the map are as attractive as they sound.