What a Life: Love Life, Laugh, and Live Longer

By Keith Weber

Keith Weber recalls a lifetime of being an entrepreneur and living life to the fullest during his forty-five years in New Zealand and now forty years in Australia in this memoir.
He grew up with his uncle and aunt, but he loved them as though they were his parents. When his mother remarried, he was told he could go live with her and his stepfather, but he decided to stay put.
He enjoyed being a Boy Scout, went to Sunday School, loved Rugby Union, and observed with interest the happenings surrounding World War II. But growing up, he also made some wrong choices and faced some hard times.
As he got older and entered the workforce, he learned that truth of sayings such as, “God works in mysterious ways” and “Tough Times Never Last -But Tough People Do!”
In sharing his experiences, he provides lessons for those who want to start their own business, travel, and meantime enjoy life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Nov 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781504322027

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Copyright © 2020 Keith Weber.

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ISBN: 978-1-5043-2192-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-2202-7 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date:  01/12/2021

Dedication

I n October 1957 Nolene Weber (nee Vickers) walked across the dance floor at the Starlight Ballroom, Hamilton, New Zealand. Instantly I knew; that’s the girl I am going to marry. Nolene and I have been together for 61 years. We have four children. Nolene has backed me through good times and bad. I love her as much, probably more today, than ever before. I dedicate this book to my wife, Nolene.

Contents

Foreword

Preface

Acknowledgements

Born to Love Life, -Laugh a little and -Live Longer

Yes I was the Joe

This little pig ran all the way home

Boys will be boys

Mum remarries, and I get a Stepfather

I have a Sister, Brother and three more Sisters

I lived most of my life to age 45 in Birkenhead and Northcote

War is declared

Bootlegging in Whangamomona

The Americans Arrive for R and R

My Youthful years

Wellington and Rugby

Woolworths: a new Career

God works in Mysterious Ways

Career interlude: I become a Compulsory Naval Reservist

I return to my Career

Elegant and Beautiful Nolene

Life’s Changes and Marriage is in prospect

Managing the money

A little boy – Gary Weber is born

A sneaky comment ends an era

Selling was to be my future

Sell this Ruler

The Gift and Novelty Business

Want an Ashtray - I have Thousands

Bad News & Good News- A Treasure is Born

Amazing who you meet at a funeral

I loved Nolene and the Kids

Rugby Union was my Game

I became a Bagman but never knew why

It happens–The Shit hits the fan!

Giftime Distributors - A new business and overseas travel experiences

Fin, my Half Brother-quiet and different!

Manilla- The night before Saigon

Tokyo- Oh, Crap!

A long way to go for a tea kettle

I catch my first Bullet train to Nagoya

Giftime expands and floats to investors

In Tokyo post-Olympics

My Tokyo Trip Shortened

No Cheer this Christmas

Recovery

Again God Works in Mysterious Ways

An exciting opportunity

There is a Santa

Save a Family

It’s true- there is one in every bar!

I become an Agent for AMP Society

I guess I have always been an Entrepreneur

The biggest Sale I Made - and Lost

Other Community Involvement

The Sometimes Club and Inn Club

Skating to Success and a World Record

I return to my Hobby - Rugby Administration

I meet Nick the Nicker

More alive in "75: Sponsorship in Rugby Union is born!

We move house and go to Australia

Vibrant Sydney – a New Life in Australia

We buy a new home at Epping

Rugby changes everything

Rugby Travel becomes my New Career

Gary, our Son, joins us in Sydney

We set up Business in Kings Cross

An Opportunity to Earn 20%

Working hard with the Family in mind

Making sales is my part of our business

We become The School Tour Operator.

Sporting Tours became important too

I take time off writing to attend Snow Whites Funeral

Cats the Musical and a Boeing 747 full of guests

We get into the Event Business

Looking to expand our destinations- The Great Barrier Reef

One hundred forty-eight seats required for Bledisloe Cup in Brisbane

We expand to an office on the Gold Coast

Qantas and Ansett Airlines Staff Strike

There is always a bed at the Salvo’s

An offer too good to refuse

Back to life in the ‘Cross

Staying in Kings Cross - Schools needed a Curfew

Students need to Tour as Emerging Young Adults

Drugs too close for comfort

Exit Kings Cross

We look at Rugby in South Africa

Some Rugby Memories

A True Story Too Good to Stay on Tour

Time-out for Staff Weddings

Kiwis Enjoy Outer Sydney

An Introduction to Music Tours and Festivals

‘We Us and Co’ re-established

Time out-Family Time

Setbacks in life - Life was never meant to be easy

Life gets worse before it gets better

Tough Times Never Last- But Tough People Do

Far from Dead- I am Empowered Again

A New Year Brings a Happier Time for All

Business as Usual

A Lesson for Nolene

A Colleague- Stacia Morris

A Rent Rise: Another New Start in Life

The Kiwi Expert Agent of the year 1998/1999

I become an Australian Citizen

Hong Kong as a reward and again as a prize

Nolene and I Take Time Out- KEA Award Prize

Fire One Coach Company - Gain Two More

Oceania Coachlines is born

2000 Brings Some Interesting Surprises

My Half Brothers and Sisters do it tough

A Wild West Adventure

Expanding our Music Tour Interest

We take the Wallaby Supporters to Auckland

We Sell Australia and New Zealand in the USA

Rhapsody Rotorua is born

New Zealand our Number One Market

The Pakistan Schools Cricket Team

A South African Rugby School

A Team of 60 English Schoolboys

Moving forward into the 21st century

The South Island of New Zealand is Fire and Ice

I get a speeding ticket

You Think on your Feet in this Business

I Spend Time on Northcote Rugby Business

Changes within the Family

Mike and Doug Tamaki visit on Harleys

Nolene Has A Garage Sale

I Address Oceania Coach Captains

Looking at Singapore as a Destination- Again

Some Community Service Time

I Always Aim To Be Healthy

New Destination Singapore and Kuala Lumpur

We join ATAC- the Australian Travel Agents Co-operative

China is our next target market

We fly on to Beijing

Xian and the Terracotta Warriors

Loryn Off-loaded Unable to Fly Home

2008 The Chase for Business Continues

Summer Budget Fixer-Independent Series Coach Touring

I learn to stick to my knitting

Nolene and I celebrate 50 years of Marriage

Celebrations give us a lift in Business and Life

An interesting Funeral

I get motivation from Richard Branson

I visit Vanuatu and was Stung by Sting

Burnt Toast

A trip to Hokianga and Moerewa

Time out at the races

Guiding Wales Rugby Supporters in New Zealand

Selling Tourism or better still: Making Arrangements is our Business

We Celebrate Nolene’s 70th Birthday in Rotorua

You Never, Never Know-But it May Now be Time to Go?

I’m Alive- I’m well - I Feel Great!

Working together: Suppliers help Grow the Business

We Become Addicted to Cruising

2012 A Surprise Incident in my Life

We travel at little cost – We work exceptionally hard

Canada here we come

Victoria Island and the Butchart Gardens

We go to New Zealand to lead a Garden Tour

2013 Brings Another Busy Year

We Fly to Beijing then Cruise to Japan and Korea

Wherever you are- When you gotta-gotta go, you gotta-gotta go!

A Separation Surprises Me

Christmas a lead–into 2014 and a Challenging Year

Bob Wood and I lead a Garden Cruise to New Zealand

A Leisurely Drive to Rotorua and CRASH!

More hospital time - They gave me the shits!

An opportunity for Retirement

Life Goes on

2014 I am Honoured - an Honorary Citizen of Rotorua

Group Events Sold: I Retire

Charmaine has a Status Change Too

A change in My Status Happening at Home

We Refurbish Our House at Voyager Point

We join a Probus Club

House Sold- We Buy at Antegra over 50’s Lifestyle Estate

New York- New York

The Good Life - Happiness Continues

Scott Wallace-Director of Hotels - Trickster Supreme! - My mate?

My Mate Peter Morrison and Horsing Around

Duncan Fletcher of Steptoe and Son

Richard Benton. Find me on the Corner of the Bar.

Top Women sell Tourism in New Zealand

Christchurch - New Zealand’s Most Beautiful City

RAZZLE DAZZLE ‘EM CHRISTCHURCH

A Grandsons Wedding – Pneumonia and Melbourne Cup

Christmas Cruising and Brown Cows

Coronavirus- (COVID-19) to change life ahead

Brain –Snaps or Bad Temper

Epilogue

Foreword

I distinctly remember the moment I first met Keith Weber in 1999.

I was called in by Grahame Hall; the then Chairman of the Rotorua Energy Charitable Trust. I met a bloke from a Sydney outfit, Group Events. He was here to set-up an Annual Youth Music Festival in Rotorua, New Zealand. He wanted a place where Aussie kids and Kiwi kids would come together and expand their learning while performing and playing music. He looked me square in the eye, shook my hand firmly and proceeded to brief me on what he required. So began 14 very successful years of Rhapsody Rotorua until Keith sold his business. You get to know a person when you work with them for 14 years and then some.

Keith is a big personality and what you see is what you get. I soon found out that he is highly respected in the Tourism industry throughout New Zealand. That’s because he had a habit of pulling people together to create package deals. He did favours for many people and called them in. I had never met, then or since, another man with such an ability to organise Group Itineraries and troubleshoot problems with ease. I found out why.

Keith is a mate. I am one of many he has all over New Zealand and Australia. Keith remembers each mate and takes a genuine interest in his or her welfare. He could drive a hard deal when he needed. You could guarantee Keith would look after you too. He frequently popped across the Tasman to see his mates. We always looked forward to meeting up with him over a beer and the yarns and latest gossip on what was happening in the Tourism industry. His broad smile and the glint in his eye said: Do I have a story to tell you!

This book fills in the gaps. You will gain an insight into what formed this great character growing up in Birkenhead, Auckland, New Zealand. Keith jumps from time zone to time zone, but that’s his style, and you will get a history lesson on what it was like growing up in New Zealand in the tough 1930s and during World War 2. He shows his humanity, and he loves his mum, meets his dad and finds his bride, Nolene. You will get to read about the bloody hard times too, the tough lessons in business and family life. You get the feeling that Keith was always going to be a legend. Getting there took courage, stamina and the ability to pick him up and carry on. He still says, Tough Times Never Last, But Tough People Do.

David Jones

One of Keith’s Mates.

Preface

I have known Keith Weber for 20 years. He is a larger than life man with tongue-in-cheek humour. He’s a ‘mate’ to many people in New Zealand and Australia, always easy with a laugh and a yarn over a beer... and a good loyal bloke when you need advice or a listening ear. He has a distinctive smile and glint in his eye - like you’re not sure what he’s going to come out with - it will be something profound/surprising. David Jones (David Jones Creative Rotorua).

T his book is easy to read, full of many of his life’s short stories. It’s about Keith Weber, who has lived 45 years in New Zealand and 40 years in Australia. Age 85, he is the guy David Jones wrote about in the foreword to this book. David also designed the front cover. The paragraph above was his instruction to the photographer for the cover picture.

Yes, that’s me. It’s about life, love, laughter and living longer. My belief is that ‘God Works in Mysterious Ways’ and ‘Tough Times Never Last –but Tough People do’. WHAT A LIFE, me and my Family have seen and lived it. Can I say, It’s not all Beer, Red Wine and Skittles. There are surprises and a lot of drama, disappointment, distress, trauma, catastrophe, and even fraud

My mates know some of my stories, some of them have starred in them, between drinks and tripping around. My life has been quite different when I strip away the gloss. I have lived a life of success and survival. Problems with partners, making $100,000 at Brisbane Expo 1988, buying the Business Gold Coast By Night, the Qantas and Ansett Airline strike 1989 and lost the lot. Police raids- Drugs- Life in Kings Cross- Brothels and Prostitutes; Bent Accountants, sent me almost broke. Our ‘Love Bus’ driver, parked the bus and took our New Years takings to the Tassie Casino. He made another $33,000 there and then disappeared.

Trying to help other people with problems and neglecting the family, working for Charities and selling Millions of Quick Raffle tickets and helping Santa Clause fix a near-impossible situation; Saving a family of six kids, losing a $6million sale.

Organising twenty International Music Festivals, Conferences and Events; I have done it all. A winner of National Sales Awards and am an Honorary Citizen Of Rotorua, New Zealand. Learn of how I changed Rugby Union from Amateur thinking, funding to Sponsorship and Professionalism. That changed the thinking, finances and support for the game—Clubs and Management of the total administration.

At times almost broke but never down. There are many lessons here for young people, Pitfalls, Motivation, Discipline, Recovery, Warning lights and much more. My Engine runs on 17 pills a day, a pacemaker and one Kidney and some good Doctors.

Looking to travel there are some great travel experiences, particularly to New Zealand; China, Canada, New York, 17 Cruises of the Bahamas, Asia and the Pacific. Hawaii, Hong Kong, Manilla, Singapore, Korea, China and Japan. Plus Rugby Tours managed to England, Wales, Amsterdam, Paris, Hong Kong, Shri Lanka, Singapore, South Africa and America.

Heartfelt thanks to Jenny Rangi who spent 25 years with Tourism New Zealand. Jenny was the inspiration for my book ten years ago and has continued to motivate me to finish and publish it today. Then there are my mates, my cheer squad. They are people who have helped me as suppliers with ideas and strategies to help us mutually build a successful business. They continue to ask, Have you finished the book yet." In 2014 I sold my business to an American company and retired. I became much more serious in writing WHAT A LIFE.

My mates and Cheer Squad like Graham Winter (Rotorua Attractions, Retired); Warren Harford, (Previous owner of Agrodome, Retired); Stewart Brown (Rotorua Museum); Ian Tew (Off-Road NZ); David Jones (David Jones Creative); Duncan Fletcher, (Distinction Hotels). Scott Wallace, (Peppers, Mantra, Clearwater Hotels Group); Jason Baker(Tourism Results NZ) and Richard Benton, (West Coast Wild-life centre- Tourism Director at Large.); Then there are the girls, Nadine Toetoe,(Ex Tamaki Tours, now Kohutapu Lodge) and Melisa Craig,(ZORB- OGO roll down the Hill); and Stacia Morris, (Grand Pacific Tours). These mates have heard some stories before, but here to enjoy are some surprises for you and them too!

Acknowledgements

D avid Jones - David Jones Creative, Rotorua New Zealand.- For the front cover design and Foreword.

Remington Photography, Prestons, NSW. Australia- Front cover photo.

John Fielder- Antegra Over 50’s Lifestyle Village, Leppington. NSW 2179, Australia. Assisting editing- Getting some Kiwi expressions and adding in more Aussie phrases.

Frank Morris- Retired Journalist, Sydney NSW, Australia- Getting me started writing in the right direction.

Jenny Rangi- Northern Beaches, Sydney, NSW. Australia. Ex Tourism New Zealand. Jenny inspired me to write my life story in a book. A Bloody Good Kiwi. She will get a surprise there are heaps she has not heard before.

Born to Love Life,

-Laugh a little and -Live Longer

W e have all been through this bit of life when you are born someone smacks you on the arse and makes you cry. I think this is the signal to say you have arrived in this world. Big and beautiful, a bouncing baby boy, is what they were all saying as they had a drink or two in celebration on 23 September 1934. I was born at my grandparents’ house at 79 Palmerston Road, Birkenhead, a North Shore suburb of Auckland, New Zealand. I weighed in at 4.56 kilograms. The midwife was Ettie Homer who must have been talented as she was very prominent in the St John’s Ambulance organisation. I copped her name, Homer, as my second Christian name.

Keith Homer Weber had an introduction to the world. I did not originate from that cartoon character Homer Simpson, for he was not around back then, nor was I named after the bloke who wrote the odyssey either. Who the hell would call their kid Homer today? My grandparents were Thomas Finlay Leathart (Fin) born 31 May 1881, and his wife, Evelyn (née Town) born at Maraetai in South Auckland on the 23 January 1885. They married in 1902. Until writing this, I had never thought of either of my grandparents being born in the 1800s. That’s a long way back in the olden days, and I have never really looked back in my life.

I have always had a photo of Auckland downtown in 1900. I saw it one day and was impressed at how the city holds the same shape today even though some of the buildings are probably having their fifth change since then. A visit in 2017 during Christmas and New Year on the cruise ship, Radiance of the Seas, showed me the many recent changes in construction which make Auckland a very modern and vibrant city. I have never thought beyond that photo about my world. That’s my city, and that’s where my life started. In 1917 my Mother Malvern Alicia Leathart (Peg) was born in Greenlane, an Auckland southern suburb. She married my Father, Stanley Arthur Weber (Stan), and subsequently, I was born.

Stan was born in Auckland on 21 February 1915 to Elsie Hilda Weber. Stan has proven to be an interesting character in my life. Looking back in my family ancestry, I descend on my father’s side from a line that includes John McPike Senior from Arigal. It’s near the town of Garvagh, County Derry, in Ulster Province, Northern Ireland. He was listed in the first detachment of New Zealand enrolled pensioners which embarked on the 14 April 1847 on the ship, Ramilies as part of the Royal Fencible Forces of New Zealand. They were early New Zealand settlers. He earned an army pension of five cents a month. In1847 he was granted17 hectares in Slaughterhouse Road, now Neilson Street Onehunga, and Auckland’s second port on the West Coast in the Manukau Harbour. My great grandfather Robert Alexander Leathart was born in 1842 to Charles and Claudia Elizabeth Mary Leathart.

1GRANDMAGRANDPALEATHEART1940S1200DPI.jpg

Fin and Evelyn Leathart 1940.

Keith adored his Grandmother.

My grandfather Thomas Finlay Leathart was, born 31 May 1881 and worked on paddle steamers on the Waikato River for Ceaser Roose in Huntly and Mercer. Later he was a mate on the Eaglehawk and the Osprey, which were the original paddle boats to ferry people on the Auckland harbour. He was then on the Kestrel which was first a steamboat but much later converted to diesel. In even later years, it became a floating restaurant on Auckland Harbour. A fleet of fast catamarans has long replaced the ferries of that day. In the wheelhouse of the Kestrel, there was a broken glass face on the telegraph, the well-polished brass communication system to the engine room. Captain Mac used to let me into the wheelhouse with him and always said, See that broken telegraph? Your grandfather did that. He’s a bit rough that grandfather of yours.

I know little about my grandmother, Evelyn Town. I recall she was overweight, obese, and her personality and her ability matched that. She must have been the boss in the maternal Family for I know she controlled the money, and she was the organiser of the Family. Everyone loved Grandma and was generous to her as she was with most people. Grandma loved me and looked after me spoiling me every moment she had time to spare. Charles Weber, a tanner, was born in Hanover, Germany in 1844. Charles and his wife, Lizzie, had four girls: Margaret, Annie, Ida, and Elsa (called Elsie). He owned a tannery in Auckland which burnt down. He died 1898 and Lizzie remarried William Gear in 1915.

Elsie had a son and used her family name, Weber. Stanley Arthur Weber was born on 21 February 1915 in Grey Lynn, Auckland. During World War I, the German name Weber caused a problem, so the Weber girls changed their name to Gear after their stepfather, William Gear. Stan kept his initial surname when he married my mother in 1934 and carried on the Weber name. My Mum and Dad married on 4 June 1934 at All Saints Church in Ponsonby. Three and a half months later, I was born. Those dates tell their own story and prove my creation happened out of wedlock, but as I explore the past and the future, I realise I am not alone in my family tree.

They must have split early in my life because I never knew my father. They were young, and in 1939 he enlisted for the New Zealand Army, Second NZEF. The Second Expeditionary Force fought in North Africa. When he joined the army for World War II, he changed his name from the German name Weber to Gear as his Family had done earlier. He felt the German name not to be suitable for him when he applied. Stan was a clicker by trade and a trumpet and cornet player and performed as such during his army service.

However, on 22 September 1944, at age 29 Stan married 18-year-old Elsie Mary Fagan, of Westport. Their marriage certificate registers the marriage of Stanley Arthur Weber, commonly known as Stanley Arthur Gear. I was born and named Keith Homer Weber. I have spent thousands of dollars promoting Keith Weber for that’s the name I want people to know me as. I was the only Weber in my Family until I married and had a son, Gary. He has continued the name Weber, and so has his sons Gregory and Lachlan. Many people call it Webber, and I correct them and say it is Weber with only one b. Sometimes I say it is Weber, W-E-B-E-R, the other is a Barbeque Brand. (I am the other bastard).

Although I had not met my father, I do know this: - I was in the bath, around 5 or 6 years old and a man arrived and poked his head around the bathroom door. I understood that man was my father. He was gone with my mother when I got out of the bath and dried, but he left me a German army hat and a badge. I threw them away because I saw them as dirty, because of my thoughts of the German soldiers.

There was a day early in my life; I remember well. There was a concrete building near Albert Park in Auckland, which I now know had been the then Magistrates Court. Today it is the facia for a multi-level apartment building. My aunt took me by the hand and told me to come quickly. There is a man who I don’t want you to see, she said. I saw a man in a suit but only from the back view and nothing more. I have since figured out that it was divorce day. It would be another twenty-three years before my mother would introduce me to my father, who was that man.

2KeithsOtherMumDadandGrandpa.jpg

Uncle Jim Godfrey, Auntie

Roberta (Bobbie) Godfrey,

Grandpa Fin Leathart.

My uncle, Jim Godfrey, and aunt, Roberta Alexandra Godfrey (Bobbie) née Leathart brought me up. The name Roberta Alexandra shows that my grandparents were probably hoping for a boy and my aunt copped the title after my great grandfathers’ Father, Robert Alexander. And maybe she copped the name Bobbie too. My uncle and aunt had no children, and their house at 133 Mokoia Road in Birkenhead on Auckland’s North Shore was home to me. It has since been renumbered and is now 169 Mokoia Road.

I was told my aunt and uncle spoilt me, and when I reflect on my childhood, I believe I was, not that I thought so back then. I lived with them until I was seventeen. They both gave me plenty of love and happiness over the years, and my grandma and grandpa also played a big part in my first ten years. Then my grandma passed away.

I was sometimes called Keith Godfrey, which I hated, as it wasn’t my name. I am Keith Weber. In my mind, I was really on my own and different from most kids who had a Mum and Dad with whom they lived. But I lived with my uncle and aunt, and I loved them both as my Mum and Dad. My mind boggles today when I think of how other kids will see kids brought up in a same-sex marriage. There will always be some people that will want to know; Why are your ‘mum and dad’ different from mine? I can’t imagine what young kids of separated or same-sex parents go through today.

At age 10, I was away on a Cub Scout camping trip at the local Scout hall. At seven-thirty in the morning, Grandma died. At that exact time, I woke up wetting my sleeping bag, a unique experience, and I didn’t know why. Later that morning, my uncle and aunt came to collect me and took me home. I would not go inside the house until after Grandma had been taken away by the undertaker. On the day of the funeral, a lady I knew as Whitey was there to run the house. She was Snow Whites Mum, a Māori Lady who always seemed to appear when there was a death in the family she would run the place. That I know to be a Māori custom which she honoured and did so well. Snow and I frequently did not see eye to eye, but many times we successfully worked together. He became an All Black and will appear much later in the book. Mum and I did not go to the funeral. At 3 pm grandma was buried at Birkenhead Cemetery with her son, Charles. My mother took hold of me, and we knelt beside our bed and said a prayer for Grandma.

I used to go to Sunday school, and to pray like this gave Mum and I both some peace. We then continued doing what we would regularly do. That was the moment I realised the importance of prayer. Although I am not super religious, I do believe today in the power of prayer and God. I firmly believe as a Christian and an Anglican, there is a God. You will see many times during my life God has been there for me. These occasions, I have highlighted through the book as "God Works in Mysterious Ways". Maybe this may change readers to believe in Him too and gain endless satisfaction from the results.

Jim Godfrey was a Customs officer, and for many of my early years, he was the Bondsman for Auckland. He was in charge of testing all the imported spirits, rum, whisky, brandy etc. that came in large barrels through the port of Auckland. They would draw a few bottles to assess the alcoholic content. The Customs Duty is payable on that result. The Customs office was upstairs at shed 15 Queens Wharf. Each night after work, the Customs boys would have a drink after work because they had high stocks of overproof alcohol, a perk of the job. We somehow had a cupboard full at home too. Being the Bondsman had benefits.

My Aunt and Uncle had no children, but they had a navy blue 1934 Morris Minor which sat on the grass verge outside, along the narrow two-lane road. We played Rugby and Cricket on the Verge and Hockey on our bikes on the roadway. We had the only car among probably 25 houses. There was not a lot of traffic in those days. Much earlier, perhaps during the 1920s, the house was my Grandfathers and was put on a half-hectare section having been dragged by a bullock team nearly 3 kilometres from the local Chelsea Sugar Works. The house, built of Kauri timber would last for ages, and it still stands today having had at least five renovations in its lifetime. I sold it in 1973, and the purchaser built an attic on it. Back in 1942, when I was eight years old, a new room was built on the side adjoining the bedroom that I had shared with my mother. I had a new single rimu bed and a tallboy.

In 1965, the Council installed a new sewerage scheme. We no longer needed an outside Lavatory. The ’Night Man’ was no longer required. He used to collect full cans of sewerage, which he carried on his shoulders to his truck. In later years the cans were emptied by my uncle in the garden down the back yard.

The house stood opposite a vast bush where my mates and I played. It was the catchment area for the water required to wash and process the sugar at Chelsea Sugar Works which was owned by CSR and still is. Today most of this bush has been diminished and is now the North Shore City suburb of Chatswood. Next door to my Uncle and Aunts house was a half-hectare paddock owned by Mr and Mrs (Nana) Thorpe. My Uncle and Aunt bought it for $400 and assigned it to me when I had my 21st birthday. It had been used to grow daffodils and adjoined a similar block with their large bungalow on it. Also, in that section, they kept ‘Beauty’, a cow which Father Thorpe milked daily. The cow hated kids, and it was a case of who would risk their lives every time a ball went into the paddock. We at least got them back from there. Not always if we hit the balls into the house on the other side of my Uncle and Aunties house. The owner Ma Turner used to come out and take them inside, and it was quite a performance to get them back from her or her older son Tom. They were odd bods.

Next door to Ma Turners was the third house. All three were brought up from The Chelsea Sugar Works by bullock team. An English couple from Oldham in Yorkshire England, Mr and Mrs Harry and Lily Wright lived there. Harry was a precision engineer and munitions specialist. He was a quiet man and spoke a broad form of English as Yorkshire people did. He worked on munitions at Kauri Point. Mrs Lily Wright had a beautiful flower garden, and Harry, the precision engineer, arranged his vegetable patch the same way. Their two children, Cyril was three years older than Harold, who was born two days before me.

Sometimes my mother lived here with us, and when she did, we shared a three-quarter bed in a small bedroom off the living room. My mother worked away from home from time to time. My grandparents owned hotels in Whangamomona, Taranaki and OngaOnga in Hawkes Bay in the country of North Island New Zealand. Looking back, I wonder if she did always live away with them or had short breaks with other men. I met many of her men friends, some I recall lived in rooms in what I would say were slums in Parnell above Carlaw Park. I say slums because nowhere she took me was very impressive nor were the men. Today all this area and the park has been replaced with accommodation and commercial units. When I was growing up, Mum in my mind was prettier than any of the other women I knew around our district. I loved my mother dearly throughout her lifetime. Later in life, after I was married, I did argue with her on one occasion brought about by the actions of my half-sister Judith. That resulted in me not meeting with Mum again in probably the last nine years of her life.

Thinking back, that’s something I rarely do, but I recall that I have had a good life, but there are a million things that I could have done better. I could have judged people better and been more caring about my Family and others. Some would not see me this way, but conscience is alive and well, and at 85 years old as I write this, I realise I could have loved my Mum even more. And the argument we had when she backed my half-sister was so small in the happenings of a lifetime, we have both lost out on some beautiful life.

Yes I was the Joe

T hroughout the early part of this book, I may, at times, refer to Joe. He was my enemy, Joe was my fear. I never met Joe, but my uncle and aunt who brought me up knew him for he was the wooden spoon in my life and was always the man that would get after my backside to punish me if I was naughty. He was still available at all times and was a real threat to me for he guided me through my early life and kept me on the straight and narrow. I had a real fear of this guy who was a dark man, a giant of a man who lived in the gully down the back and wore sandshoes. As it happened, there was a fern tree grove over a small pond there, and he lived there. You had to look hard to see him, but he was there, he was real, even if back then looking from a distance I did not see him I knew Joe was there and would come up and get me if he needed too. As I got older, I became more inquisitive. When I was 5 or 6, I was in my gumboots, and I went for a closer look to talk to Joe for I felt it was time I met him. The fern leaves die, blacken and hang down, and if not removed, they tend to bulk up, and if you look deep into them, your imagination runs wild.

The pond bank gave way, and I was in the water and hovering over me was all the black rubbish. My mind took over as I knew I had done wrong. I yelled and screamed Help! Help! , I knew at any moment Joe would grab me and beat me, I might drown, I might go down a big hole and disappear forever. I was sinking and splashing. I grabbed the branch of a tree and pulled myself clear. I was crying and yelling for Help, and finally, it came from my uncle who took me in his arms. He took me up the hill and dried me.

Joe did not appear, he did not try to rescue me, maybe he was not there, perhaps Joe did not exist, but he kept me in line for my early years. It was about ten years later when we cleared the gully to find a picturesque fern grove and a clear water pond flowing to a clear water creek. I realised then that I was the Joe, a real DUMB Joe at that. It saved a lot of spanked bottoms.

This little pig ran all the way home

I t would be appropriate here to tell you of some of the kid’s stuff, the things the kids, mainly this kid did in his earlier years. My Uncle and Aunt were going out on this particular evening to a friend’s place about 3 kilometres away in Palmerston Road Birkenhead, and I was left home with my mother. Mum and I argued, and I was locked in the bathroom for punishment. There was a tiny casement window in the bathroom which was the equivalent of two stories high. I sat howling my eyes out, and as I write, I don’t recall what the trouble was, but if I could climb out the window and drop to the ground I would be ok, and I could run away. Below the window was a cross beam that held up a trellis which had passionfruit growing over it. I squeezed out the window and dropped to the cross beam and then about a further 3 metres to the ground. Ha-ha-ha, you crabby old bitch I am out. You can’t catch me.

How bloody stupid was that telling the enemy you had escaped, but this is kid’s stuff and readers will recall their own mistakes when they were young. I started to run and then walk and run again until I had run all the way. It was all downhill, the three kilometres to where my auntie and uncle would be. I made it and knocked on the door. When the door opened, I was standing at the doorstep blubbering away. They brought me in and gave me a glass of milk. It must have been embarrassing for uncle and auntie, but it was only for a short time there was a knock at the door, and my Mum came in with a swishy stick in her hand that she had picked up on the way. Mum was only there a moment, and then I was outside and like the little pig, ‘I was running all the way home’ with the stick around my backside.

Boys will be boys

W e lived on a half-hectare section (block) which was quite steep down into a valley which had paddocks at the end, and they formed the eastern side of the valley. Further down the valley on the western side, it had paddocks and a strawberry patch. Above the valley were houses. In the valley flowing north was the head of Dulce’s Creek and lots of beautiful Native New Zealand Bush including a Kauri tree some hundreds of years old. We knew this bush backwards for we played there frequently. We used to fish for trout in the creek and baby crayfish. Some distance away was a large pool known as Dulce’s Pool. We all used to go there to sneak a skinny – dip. I can’t remember that ever being done in mixed company for this would have been before any sexual knowledge. What we did do in mixed company was the game of Truth and Dare, and the worst thing we ever did then suffered the penalty of having to kiss one of the girls. Yuk, that was terrible, yet the girls around our way were all lovely girls not that we thought so at that age. It was this valley that centred on my dreams during the Second World War for as kids we all had sledges, and we used to ride them down the steep eastern slopes. I, for some reason, always believed I could fly. I had learnt at kindergarten when I peddled a three-wheel trike, that it didn’t matter how fast I peddled off the metre high wall I could not fly. The footpath below was always hard enough to generate tears each time I tried. It was different though when I dreamed that the German Soldiers were chasing me. I used to run fast down the sledge slope and flew across to the other side and landed on Charlie Blacklege’s Strawberry Patch. That beat them every time. Charlie’s Strawberry patch was quite a special place for we could go up the hill under cover of the surrounding bush and raid his strawberries. We did this often until one day Harold Wright and I were on a raid, and we looked up, and there was Charlie at the top end of the patch looking down at us with his shotgun in hand. We lay still in the ditch between each row, and we dare not move. Harold lifted his head for he was less bulky than me, He’s got a gun he whispered between eating our stolen fruit.

Bang the shotgun boomed out, and Harold stood up and waved out.

G’ day, Charlie. From that moment, I was gone into the bush and a kilometre away with Harold quickly following me so Charlie could not catch us. We never went back. During the war, we all had tin hats. I’ve no idea where they came from, but probably old Harry Wright, Harold’s Dad worked at the Kauri Point Naval base so I guess that may have been the source. Apart from making it more effective when we played war, they proved even better when we used to go into the Chelsea sugar works bush to gather pine cones. Some climbed the tree, the others wearing the tin hats stayed below and picked up the cones the others had knocked off the branches with a hammer. Years later, when my children were growing up through the same age group, we were living in the old house in Mokoia Road, Birkenhead. By now I owned it and the paddock next door.

Like me, my kids played down in the same valleys although the strawberry patch now had houses and a motel on it. The back of all the surrounding properties had houses on what was their back yards. Our place was just the same, but it had become overgrown with Ginger Plant. It was the scene for World War Three. Across the valley were the Ewens Kids and others that lived in Roseberry Avenue. Their property backed onto the valley. On our side were the Webers, Cheshire’s the Roderick’s and the Wrights. For the war, you needed ammunition and the Ginger Plant, cut up, provided roots and small pieces of stems were then able to be thrown as bullets. I don’t know who won that war but the kids often even in their 50’s talk about the battles with the Ewens Family.

We sold both 167 and 169 Mokoia Road to Paul Lahore, a Real Estate Agent and Developer, also a good supporter of the Northcote Rugby Club. It was sub-divided into six housing properties, but not before it had to have a bulldozer clear out a thriving crop of Ginger Plant. Every bullet thrown put down its roots and started a prolific crop. The kids of the district have grown up, and the battlefield is no more.

Mum remarries, and I get a Stepfather

M y mother remarried in 1945. Mum married George Rowland, a drover, shepherd and general stockman. He used to stay at the Hotel in OngaOnga when he was working at various jobs. OngaOnga is a very fertile Hawkes Bay farming town. When I went to my Grandpas Hotel for the holidays, George was often there, and he used to sit with my mother and me many nights under a blanket on the hotel veranda. Back then the Sanford Arms hotel was a two-storied property but has since had the top floor burnt out, and it now stands as a quite old country pub. Even more recently, in 2019, it has become fruit picker’s accommodation.

One day I was told my mum and George had married and I could go and live with mum and my stepfather, or stay with my Uncle and Aunt. I decided to stay put as I was, for I loved my Uncle and Aunt who were very good to me, plus of course, that is where my friends were. I used to then go for my school holidays to Kairakau Beach out on the Hawkes Bay coast where they lived in a batch, (a weekender) on the beach.

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A great day out, at the Auckland Zoo with my new

stepfather, George Rowland and my mother.

My new Dad, George, was a rabbiter over farmlands in the area. I was 11 years old and remembered lying in bed with Mum one morning. It was so beautiful just lying there with the waves lapping up to virtually the beach-front veranda. It was some years since Mum, and I shared a bed. I felt kicking in my side, and it was frequent and was from something in my mother’s stomach. I now started to understand the other side of sex for my mother was close to having a baby. She explained that she might have to go to Waipukurau some kilometres away in a hurry for she was having a baby.

I have a Sister, Brother and three more

Sisters

M ums daughter, Judith was born in May 1946 followed by a son, Finlay 18 May 1947 then another three daughters Janis 27 October 1948, Raewyn December 1951, and Jillian on 31 March 1954. They all moved all around the country working on farms in Hawkes Bay, the Waikato. Hauraki Plains and the Reporoa / Taupo region right in the centre of the North Island. Back then, many of the houses had no electricity. They used wood-burning stoves, open fires and camp ovens, candles and kerosene lamps or Tilly lanterns for lighting. The toilets were always outside ‘Long-Drops’. I am pleased I did not live that style of living, but it was fun to go home to Mum for my school holidays and experience this style of life.

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B/R Raewyn Smythe*, Barry Walker, (Judith’s first husband) George Rowland, Fin Rowland,

F/R: Jill Anderson*, Mum- Peg Rowland, Janice White*, Judith Webber*.

*Nee Rowland.

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Fin and Mum (Peg) and George Rowland, my new

stepfather. Trophy: "Best Stag of the year, presented at

the deerstalkers annual Ball. Fin won this regularly.

There were few tractors and draught horses were used to pull ploughs, carts, sledges and drays. The alternative was the packhorse. Some draught horses acted as pack horses as well as most of the more prominent older hacks as long as they could carry a pack saddle and a load they were excellent as a packhorse.

The family were on Woodlands Station, just off the Putere Rd, 20 km west of Raupunga in the high back block country of Hawkes Bay where we used to do shepherding and at times fencing. At 3 am, we would ride out on horses and take eight pack horses with us. We loaded them with probably six posts strapped to each or a higher number of wooden battens, wire and equipment, which were taken out to an outback paddock. We were a long way out in the wilderness above the Mohaka River about 30 kilometres west of the Mohaka Viaduct and foothills of the Mangataniwha Mountain. We were in outback New Zealand and high enough up to have Snow at times during winter. Some nights we would sleep out overnight in horse covers around a campfire and finish the job the next day. We used to set a fire and boil the billy and place a camp oven on the embers so we could have a roast dinner at night and billy tea. These were exciting days for a city kid from Auckland. Sometimes we would catch a wild pig or two on the way home and strap them to the pack saddles and take them back. I used to have the job on a Friday to ride my horse out 6 Kilometres over a pumice dirt road to get the mail, bread and the papers and other food and supplies. The mailman delivered every Friday to a tin shed on the metal based Putere Road which led through the scrub and fern in those days to virtually the wilderness. Today I believe thousands of hectares of man-made pine forest, a significant New Zealand export have taken the place of the sheep and cattle grazing.

In the early days of my half- sibling’s life, they had little money, but they had a lot of fun and laughs in their life. I undertook to make sure when I started work that Santa called for them at Christmas. When I was 15, they had moved to the Waikato Region, and I used to go home, and George taught me more about farming and how to ride and jump horses much more efficiently. I had my horse, a scrub brumby from Woodlands Station days and I used to compete on him at sports meetings and A&P shows. I used to ride the Hunt south of Auckland with the Maramarua Hounds. In those days the Huntsman would ride out with his hounds, and they would put up a squatting hare who would take off, sometimes for a Kilometre or so in many directions. The followers on their horses would follow the red-jacketed Huntsman and his horse jumping fences and hedges wherever the hounds and the hare took you. The Hunt meet was a great fun sport but in later years was frowned upon as it was considered cruelty to the hares for when the hounds caught them the Huntsman threw the hare in the air, and the hounds ripped it to pieces and ate it. The Hunt continued for more hares hiding in the long grass.

George was good to me and taught me a lot, but much of it was done initially on the end of a stick, a supplejack vine cut from the bush. Its best compared with a cane, cut from the forest. Otherwise, it was under threat of a stock whip, although he never used one on me. I believe all this came from what had happened to him in his upbringing in the backcountry of Gisborne. I had to learn all manner of things quickly. Today I am grateful for all the experiences and the backcountry skills and things I learned. I can surprise people when I talk of places, happenings, history and the activities in the back country of New Zealand. I have been there and grown up there and have a wealth of New Zealand knowledge to share today.

Years later, I was compensated for the hurt and hassles with George, that I had put up with. In 2013, my daughter Charmaine, (generally today I call her Charlie) visited the Totara Farm Estate Museum with me in Timaru in New Zealand. Charlie was 50, and I was 79. We were able to walk over to the wall in the stables. I showed her the process of how you harness up a horse and put the gear together to set up a horse and cart or a sledge behind a horse or plough to cultivate a field. Repayment came when I looked at her so wide-eyed and full of amazement, at how I could do all this. I was her Dad. How did I know all this? If you learn things well you carry that knowledge for life and frequently, I do something or say things, and people say, how the hell do you know that?

I lived most of my life to age 45

in Birkenhead and Northcote

I n my early years and during WWII, if you bought a box of cigars in New Zealand, it was my Aunt or my Mum who had made the boxes. They worked for George Pezzaro and Sons. Hygiene was not as important in those days as the tobacco leaves lay in heaps around the floor. They needed to be a little damp. The Foreman, a man known as Forby, used to walk around with a big bottle of water. His method was to take mouthfuls of water and blow them out his mouth and all over the tobacco, providing a fine spray. This satisfied production needs and kept the tobacco leaf soft for handling. That could not happen today, that’s for sure.

Around the time when I was six years old, my Uncle and Aunt introduced me to a little boy around my age. His name was Bobby Harland, who was an orphan and they had taken him in as a trial to be like a brother for me. They gave us to play with an expensive, top of the range electric train set. A streamlined locomotive and three Pullman cars. Wow it was terrific. I loved this as I had done a lot of train travel to get to Grandma and Grandpas for the holidays. Sadly, I performed so severely towards Bobby and did not want to share anything with him, so my Auntie and Uncle sent him back to the Orphanage. I lost the train. It went back to Ronnie, my uncle’s nephew.

As the years have gone by, I, have looked in phone books everywhere to see if I could find a Bob, Rob or similar name he