Signposts – a blog about Te Ara the Encyclopedia of New Zealand

History in a mural: bagging oysters in Bluff

The recent debate (if it be dignified as such) about the merits of the ‘Wellywood‘ sign on Wellington airport land, invites attention on how places assert their identity.

The most common device for small-town New Zealand is the giant icon – for example, the Rakaia salmon or the Ōhakune carrot. These were a phenomenon of the 1980s, as rural towns suffered from the downturn in the farming economy, and looked to find ways of enticing visitors to stop, perhaps take a photograph of their giant ‘thing’, and even spend a few dollars on a bun and a cuppa. They were in many places a successful gimmick, but they tended to freeze identity – a problem which Gore tried to overcome by several large icons: a brown trout, a guitar and a merino sheep.

In the first decades of the 20th century such places would often trumpet their achievements through a statue of their founder or notable pioneer. So Ashburton put up a statue to John Grigg, who was responsible for draining the land around the neighbouring property of Longbeach and turning it into productive farm land. Bluff honoured its local booster, with a statue of Joseph Ward. But it was not very forward-looking to seek identity through a founder, and once the First World War came along these statues were often edged aside or upstaged by a large memorial to the dead of the Great War. Of course, war memorials were hardly expressions of distinctiveness, because every township or locality in the country had one.

More recently cities and regions have trumpeted their identity through slogans, such as the try-hard ‘Absolutely Positively Wellington‘, or Dunedin’s rather apologetic ‘It’s all right here’ (used from 1988 to the mid-1990s, and later replaced by the confounding ‘I am Dunedin’), or Horowhenua’s ‘The feel of real New Zealand’. The problem with this route to identity is that the slogans tire quickly, and they tend, as with the above examples, to be applicable to any community. They are not really expressive of particular identity and are little more than feel-good advertising slogans

Another way for a town or city to proclaim identity is through murals. The richness and abundance of these became apparent recently when I drove down the east coast of the South Island seeking images which might illustrate stories we had prepared for visitors to the Rugby World Cup. We are creating 3–4-minute-long audio files about characters, interesting events or natural phenomena to be found along the main highways of the country. I needed to find images to accompany these stories in a web-based slide show.

I soon realised that it would be quite hard, in many instances, to get photos of the actual subject matter. The story at Bluff is about oysters, but it was not an easy matter to arrange to go out on an oyster boat or capture shots of workers shelling oysters. It was much easier, and visually more interesting, to photograph the murals about the history of oystering which adorn the walls of the town. Similarly, in Kaikōura I had neither the time, nor funds, to go whale-watching, but the place is thick with murals, and in some cases sculptures, of whales and whaling. I ended up taking no less than 15 different images of such works.

Now, I know that these murals are kitsch, and not usually great art. But they do often capture the human history of the activity, and they reinforce a sense of a distinct identity in a way that is more interesting and varied than slogans or even giant icons. It is worth just looking at the murals in small Taranaki towns to see how often and in how varied a way, the mountain which dominates the region is pictured.

So, next time you have the pleasure of driving through small town New Zealand, keep your eyes open for the public art, and give thanks to the local muralists, usually unnamed and unrecognised, who have tried to capture their place in paint on shop walls.

Jack Clarke and fellow climber Lawrence Earle on Mt D’Archiac in March 1910

On Christmas Day 1894 three young men made the first ascent of Aoraki/Mt Cook – Tom Fyfe, George Graham and Jack Clarke, a plumber, a carpenter and a handyman. They had forestalled moneyed English climber Edward Fitzgerald with his Swiss guide Mattias Zurbriggen, and their achievement helped underpin the tradition that mountaineering in New Zealand could be enjoyed by anyone who had the skills, and was not just a recreation for gentlemen.

Jack Clarke was only 19 when he first climbed Mt Cook – ‘the youngest on the highest,’ as John Pascoe described his feat. For the next 20 years he made his living as an alpine guide at Mt Cook and elsewhere. His high standards and attention to detail did much to set the pattern of guiding and mountaineering in the early part of the 20th century. But, until recently, he remained a shadowy figure and was not included in the Dictionary of New Zealand Biography. So, a few days ago I was delighted to attend the launch of Graham Langton’s new biography, Summits and shadows: Jack Clarke and New Zealand mountaineering.

As a historian of the mountains and professional archivist, Graham Langton has been able to pull together a fascinating account of early mountaineering in the Southern Alps, illustrated by a huge range of photographs. Although Clarke apparently didn’t take photographs himself, he is recorded in many groups taken by clients and other climbers, slowly changing over the years.

Life as a climbing guide was never easy for Jack Clarke. As well as being an experienced mountaineer, he had to plan every trip and arrange for supplies, act as a general factotum, carry heavy loads, cut or kick steps for his clients, and ensure that they returned all safely. But also, as a paid employee, he needed what would today be called good interpersonal skills and the ability to ensure that his clients returned satisfied from their expeditions. Although Clarke was a quiet, self-effacing man, he was obviously a good companion and was in constant demand as a guide. Two of his well-off clients funded him on overseas trips which helped to broaden his knowledge and experience.

After more than 10 years guiding at the Hermitage, Clarke was enticed to work for the New Zealand Geological Survey in 1906 by James Mackintosh Bell, an ambitious young Canadian geologist. Bell had a strong adventurous streak, and was keen to climb mountains and explore remote areas, as well as keeping an eye on field parties around New Zealand. Jack Clarke was an ideal guide and field hand because he was an experienced organiser as well as being able to handle extreme conditions in the mountains and the bush. Bell recorded his journeys in files, official reports and a later book, The Wilds of Maoriland (1914), where he gives generous credit to Clarke for the success of some difficult trips.

Bell was responsible for the construction of the first Heaphy hut as a base for geological exploration. A famous photograph, used in Te Ara, shows a group in front of the newly completed hut. Geologists have always assumed that the commanding man on the left was Bell, but I have to agree with Graham Langton that it is almost certainly Jack Clarke as he looks so similar to other photographs taken around the same time. Perhaps Bell was the photographer.

In 1909 Clarke returned to the Hermitage as a private guide, and over the next five years undertook some of his most notable climbs in the Southern Alps. He enlisted in the army a few days after the First World War was declared, and his climbing career was over. He lived on for almost 40 years in obscurity, and Graham Langton has painstakingly pieced together the story of the second part of his life.

This biography is a great read for anyone interested in the history of mountaineering and its social history. It is a worthy memorial for Jack Clarke.

Marlborough's vineyards are highlighted in this New Zealand Post stamp

Last night Blenheim rang to laughter and applause as more than 100 people enjoyed the launch by Colin King, MP for Kaikōura, of Te Ara’s coverage of Marlborough. This is the last of our Places regions for the South Island, and the fourth written by Te Ara’s Places editor, Malcolm McKinnon.

Not surprisingly, the occasion was made more enjoyable by the fine local seafood and wine offered to the guests. There is no doubt that of all New Zealand regions Marlborough offers more than any other to the gourmet. Just whet your imagination on green-lipped mussels from the Sounds, crayfish from the Kaikōura coast, or a glass of sauvignon blanc or riesling from the Wairau and Awatere valleys. As this nice diagram shows, well over half the country’s vineyards are to be found there.

Of course every region we launch has its own distinctiveness; and indeed that is one of the joys of the physical and cultural variety of this small but hugely diverse country. In Marlborough’s case the entries show that its distinctiveness consists of more than food and wine. There are three other interesting claims.

First, it is a region with numerous unique natural flora and fauna. The Marlborough Sounds are the only location for the king shag, the Maud Island frog and the Marlborough green gecko, and on Stephens Island they host by far the largest surviving population of tuatara.  There is even a unique breed of goats on Arapawa Island. In summer the eastern ranges display the glorious Marlborough rock daisy in brilliant yellow flower. The Kaikōura coast is remarkable for the deep canyon which flows off-shore and attracts those famous displays from the cetaceans – breaching sperm whales and leaping dolphins.

Second, Marlborough has a fascinating history of early human settlement.  The area is rich in place names that recall the early explorations of Kupe, and the Wairau Bar is the site of one of the earliest archaeological sites in the country with artefacts dating from the 13th century – the very time when Polynesians first arrived here. Slightly further north, in Queen Charlotte Sound a large concrete monument marks Ship Cove, where Captain Cook spent some 100 days, by far the longest period in any one place, on his three voyages to New Zealand. A half century later the first on-shore whalers, mostly ex-convicts from across the ditch, began to settle near Tory Channel.

Finally, Marlborough tells a fascinating story of the boundary between land and sea. The Wairau Bar is one such place; Lake Grassmere where the nation’s salt is recovered from the sea is another; Ōhau Point on the Kaikōura coast, where young seal pups leave the beach and follow a river upstream to play beneath a waterfall, is another. It was hardly surprising that the recent national debate about the foreshore and seabed was kicked off by claims from Marlborough. And, as this film from 1962 records, Picton is where State Highway 1 leaves the land and crosses the sea on the roll-on, roll-off ferries across the strait.

So Marlborough is full of interesting stories, and Malcom McKinnon’s entries on the region and the particular places have done them full justice.  Enjoy them as much as did our Blenheim guests last night.

All the entries in the new Social Connections theme are now available on the Te Ara website. These entries explore the dynamics of birthing and the solemnity of state funerals. They record the pleasures of family holidays as well as moments of passionate political activism on the Treaty of Waitangi, abortion, the 1981 Springbok tour, homosexual law reform, parental discipline of children, protests about hospital closures and the decriminalisation of sex work.

Now that the Social Connections entries are online, you can view the 1964 opening of National Women’s Hospital and watch Judge Silvia Cartwright respond in 1988 to questions at a news conference after the release of her report on the treatment of women for cervical cancer at this important obstetric and gynaecological hospital. Or you can dip into entries on love and romance, sexualities and weddings or access information about more uncomfortable topics such as child abuse, ethnic and religious intolerance and domestic violence.

These entries explore the pleasures of childhood, but they also record the regimentation of children in orphanages and the spartan austerity of industrial schools. Youth club dances and scout jamborees feature in these entries as well as older people’s enjoyment of time with one another and the interactions between grandparents and their grandchildren.

You can find out about the development of Auckland hospital and also about health consumer advocacy or catch a glimpse of dental nurses in training in 1945. There is information about Māori women’s health activism and about the use of wahakura, or traditionally woven sleeping bassinets, to avoid cot death among Maori babies. Graphs provide information about the relationship between gender, income and life expectancy and also rates of preventable hospital admissions among Pacific Peoples. They highlight the consequences of persisting economic disparities.

New Zealanders are increasingly likely to have no religious beliefs but spiritual beliefs and the activities of religious organisations have been very important in the history of this country. Entries on religion explore traditional Māori beliefs and cosmologies as well as the activities of 19th century missionaries. Pacific Islanders’ churches, Buddhism, Judaism, Hinduism and the Korean Presbyterian Church also receive attention. These entries do no just explore religious beliefs and practices, but the relationship between religious belief and action on peace and social justice issues. Te Ara also captures the way in which people may be divided in death through an interactive map of the Karori cemetery with pop-up images of different sections of the cemetery.

New entries on the Te Ara site include moments that connect people from very different walks of life. One such moment was captured after Robert Muldoon’s funeral in September 1992 when Thea Muldon got into conversation with Black Power gang members. The activities of the Sensible Sentencing Trust are documented, as well as arguments by prisoners’ rights activists for less imprisonment and more attention to the social determinants of offending.

The publication of these entries marks the end of my involvement with Te Ara. Work on the Social Connections theme has been a wonderful opportunity to extend my understanding of relationships between people in families, homes, neighbourhoods, rural communities, small towns and cities and a variety of voluntary and professional organisations. I have also enjoyed working with the professional, imaginative and creative people that put together the words, images, sound files, video clips, diagrams and maps that make up the taonga that is Te Ara. At the heart of this online project are the social connections among this very dynamic team – largely invisible to those who access the website. Congratulations to all the writers, resourcers, editors and designers who contributed to the Social Connections theme and best wishes for your work on the next set of entries!

Having trouble with the quiz above? Click here to view it on the ProProfs website