Excitedly Jim Drinkwater waved a letter he held in his hand. "I've got it. I've got it. I'm to be a shepherd at Woodlands. There's a house with the job so we can get married straight away."
Mary's blue eyes sparkled, and for a moment the young couple were so excited talking about plans for the future that they forgot to lower their voices. A loud jangle of a bell startled them both. The harsh clang came again, impatient and imperative, and the little maid slipped through to answer the summons.
Through the half-open door Jim heard the harsh voice, "Who have you got there, Mary? I have told you that you must have callers only on one day in the week. That young man of yours was here on Sunday."
Quickly Jim walked into the parlour. "It's all right, Mrs. McKlintock. I've got the job as shepherd on Woodlands and Mary and I will be married on Saturday and go down by train."
"Woodlands? Where is that?"asked the old lady.
"It's in the Waikato, and extends from Taupiri right past Hamilton. It is about 98,000/acres, and there are at least 40 permanent workmen, so it. is a good place to get into."
Pitifully small were the young couple's possessions as they boarded the train, but their hearts were full of love and hope, and these, together with a sturdy courage, were what was most needed in the New Zealand of the day. In their enchanted dream, they hardly noticed that once the train left Mercer, the Waikato River seemed to extend to the hills, and muddy water swirled to the tops of the toi-toi and raupo.
"Taupiri at last!" A chilly wind whistled along the platform and Mary shivered as Jim went to ask the stationmaster how to get to Woodlands.
"Are you expected?" he asked kindly. "John Gordon usually sends the waggon when there's a new wife coming. The flood must be pretty bad if the waggon can't get through. The telephone line's been down these three days, so we haven't heard anything."
Jim explained rather sheepishly that he had been so excited at getting the job that he had not sent word when they were coming.
"It's eleven miles and the road's in a shocking state. You had better stay at the hotel tonight and hire a horse tomorrow," advised the station-master.
Jim looked at his young wife and fingered the few coins in his pocket.
"Look!" she said, "A rainbow."
Arched across the grey skies, a bright rainbow gave a touch of glory to the desolate scene. "It's an omen," she said, "Let's walk out to our new place now."
The road by the station had been muddy enough, but soon the way seemed the big horse had not hesitated to swim the unbridged creeks, and find to lead through a dirty brown lake.
It's not particularly deep," commented Jim. "The water isn't quite up to the bottom wire of the fence."
Mary's long petticoats were wet through, flapping dismally round her legs; her skirt, so carefully pressed for her wedding earlier in the day, was drenched with mud. Once through the "lake" they were on higher ground and made better progress.
"You know," said Jim, "this is part of the road the Waikato Swamp Company built in 1874 to reduce the purchase price of the Woodlands estate from the 5 shillings an acre that the confiscated land was supposed to be sold at, to a mere 2 shillings and 6 pence. All the roads are under the jurisdiction of the Kirikiriroa Road Board now, and they think that digging drains is part of road building. When Edwin Johnson (it was he who told me Woodlands needed a new shepherd, you know) said that he dug a 4 ft deep drain on each side of his roads, I thought it was a funny way to do things but I can see why now.
"The drains will have to be kept clean," said his wife, and Jim said thoughtfully, "It'll be hard work. I hope I don't have to do too much of it."
"But you are a shepherd," answered Mary quickly, "That won't be your job."
"In New Zealand everyone must be prepared to turn his hand at everything," replied Jim, "but draining in peat country is not much fun."
Dusk was falling as the young couple, mud from head to foot, topped a slight rise and there about two miles away were twinkling lights.
"Woodlands at last!" exclaimed Jim, reaching for Mary's little hand, cold and muddy now, but as responsive as when she had whispered, "I do", so many hours before.
But another "lake" stretched between them and the promise of warmth and shelter. "This water is deep," Jim thought, " Only the top of the fence posts are showing above it. We'll have to walk across on the fence wires.''
And they did.
The warm welcome they received when they arrived wet, cold and muddy was a foretaste of the friendship found in the close-knit group of workers.
.........................................
Rain had fallen during the night, and early in the morning the manager of Woodlands rode out to look.
Thoughtfully he tapped his boot with his riding whip. The body of a sheep swung in the swirling water, and the big black horse snorted and reared. In the days before the railway was completed, Josiah Firth used to ride Merrylegs from his home, "The Tower" in Matamata to Auckland, and the big horse had not hesitated to swim the unbridged creeks, and find his way along muddy tracks, but now J.C. Firth had been bankrupted and his treasured horse had come to Woodlands. Merrylegs did not lack courage, and he would have crossed that swirling current if his rider had asked him to, but he hated the dead bodies and twisting branches that a flood always brought.
" We'll have to widen our outlet to the Komakorau Stream here," John Gordon resolved as he turned homeward. For a fleeting moment it crossed his mind that the extra water he released into the stream could well complicate matters in the already flooded area round Taupiri.
"But I can't help it," he thought, "They'll just have to deepen their drains too."
................................
Digging By Hand - 1913
Photographs Of Yesterday
But the days of the great estates were numbered. All over the Waikato the big land holders were going bankrupt. They needed ready money for taxes and rates, let alone improvements, and money just wasn't available. The Bank foreclosed until 610,000 acres of Waikato land was under its control, and Premier John Seddon had to act to prevent a national disaster, by disposing of these lands to any small buyer willing to work his own land. In 1898 Woodlands was offered for sale at one Pound an acre, and John Gordon tried to persuade a group of Auckland business men to form a syndicate to farm the estate, but they laughed at him, as they had laughed at Captain Steele nearly 28 years before.
"Waikato land!" they exclaimed. "Why, it burns up in the summer and it's under water in the winter. No-one in their right senses would touch Waikato peat country-not with a twenty foot pole."
But there were men who had the courage to try; many because the land was cheap and they had faith in God and in their own ability to work. Woodlands was surveyed into smaller blocks in 1902 and Freshfield in 1907, so that many new settlers moved into the district. The soldier settlers, except for Nathan Rumney and Patrick McSweeney had long since sold their allotments or just walked off and there were new farmers on their places.
For twenty years Woodlands homestead had been the centre of life in the district- the store was there under the supervision of the manager, mails came there, and the only telephone joined the main houses of the estate. Now there was no-one in the 'big house'. It was a time of opportunity for a man without much capital but willing to work. Mr Cuthbert bought the billiard room that had been built for the pleasure of the Woodlands employees and the young Maori men of the district, and he moved it across the road and opened it as a general store, where he sold everything from brightly coloured boiled lollies which he kept in big glass jars up on the top shelf, to saddles, horse collars and bridles piled in an untidy jumble at the back.
The women of the district brought their produce, eggs, butter, vegetables, sometimes even a live hen, to exchange for a pretty ribbon or the more essential salt or farm boots. A couple of years later, Mrs. Parfitt and her son arrived from Gore, liked the look of the district and bought the store as a "Going Concern."
By 1907 George Parfitt was old enough to take over (though all her life Mrs. Parfitt liked to supervise) and he became the first Postmaster with a salary of 20 Pounds a year. He remained as Postmaster till a few years before his death after 38 years of service to the struggling little community. Gradually through the years the roads to Hamilton were improved, telephones were installed, then electricity arrived, and cars and trucks made life easier, but in those early years the contribution that George Parfitt and his wife and mother made to the district was vital. The younger folk were a little afraid of "Old Lady Parfitt" and her sharp tongue, but she "got things done" when it was often very difficult to do so.
But immediately Hukanui Post Office opened a new difficulty arose. There was another Hukanui, and the people of the district were asked to choose a new name. Meetings and discussions followed. The Maori folk especially were keen to call the settlement after John Gordon who had been such a help and guide to them during the very diffficult adjustment period after the disastrous wars, and though most of the new settlers had not met him, those who had worked on Woodlands could tell of his work for the district. So in 1913 the Post Office became Gordonton Post Office and the school became Gordonton School, but they retained the old name of the Hukanui Hall till the new one was built fifteen years later.
...............................
Happy events shape a district too. One Autumn morning in 1907 all the young ladies were awake early, peering anxiously at the sky. For weeks Mrs. McNicol and her girls had been busy. Now a lovely bridal dress with its lace and thousands of tiny hand stitches was just waiting for the moment. The women had worked far into the night to cook the roosters to perfection, the enormous ham that Mrs. McNicol had cured herself was ready to be eaten. Great apple pies and bowls of cream were waiting. The tables were set up under the plane trees that Mrs. Primrose had planted so carefully forty years before and now they were just turning gold with the first hint of Autumn, and the gardens were ablaze with yellow chrysanthemums.
The guests arrived in gigs and phaetons and before eleven o'clock there was a horse tied to every post in the big horse paddock, while laughter and merry chatter echoed round the old house. Under the dappled shade of the trees a marriage was solemnized amid the good wishes of the district. In the early afternoon young Kate and her brand new husband, Norman Taylor, walked down the drive and along the dusty road to start one of the families that still plays its part in the ilfe of Gordonton.
The Chestnut Tree That Mrs. Primrose Planted
Hours on Waikato farms were long and toil was unremitting. Perhaps that is why the priviledge of Sunday worship was so jealously guarded in those early days. It was also because those early settlers had a very clear convinction of the Grace of God and their own place in His love and care. Services were held in the Hukanui Hall; Presbyterian, Methodist, Anglican, it didn't matter. Mrs. Ballard played the piano and everyone came, tying horses and gigs, drays and buggys to the fence by the oak trees that had been intended to line the railway yards. The hall was big and draughty especially on cold mornings, and it wasn't long before both Presbyterians and Anglicans began talking about building a real church. At this time Gordonton was part of the St. Andrews parish, and by 1918 the session felt the time was right to build, so under the chairmanship of James Riddell, the owner of Woodlands, the Gordonton men met the town elders to discuss the important question. In March 1918 tenders were called, and Mr. Thomas Clements of Matangi promised he would build the little rough-cast and plaster church for 643 Pounds 10 shillings. James Riddell bought the section for 30 Pounds and a subscription list was opened. Norman Taylor, who rarely said anything at meetings, was enthusiastic about this project and supported it generously, as did John McGregor the Sunday School Superintendent, who died tragically a few years later. In August the building was completed. The managers and elders met to discuss a letter from the builder. "I am going overseas in the Armed Forces," he wrote, "Could you please pay me the full amount before I go?"
There was still 160 Pounds to pay. "I guess he wants to invest it for his wife," observed James Riddell. "I'll lend it to the church" (He had of course already given a generous donation.)
Mr. Sayers, the Hamilton builder who made the kauri pews at the cost of 16 Pounds 12 shillings & 6 pence, donated the pulpit. So the first church was opened in Gordonton, with thankful hearts for what had been accomplished and high hopes for the future.
...........................
During the Maori Wars a wounded soldier died at Hukanui and was buried by the Komakorau stream. Was he Maori or Pakeha? I can't find out but the earliest surveys marked the place as a "Burial Ground" and iron railings were put round the grave. Perhaps he was a Maori, because in 1892 the Kirikiriroa Road Board asked Mr. Primrose to employ an interpreter to explain to the Maori of the district that the cemetery was to be used by both Maori and Pakeha. No one used it and the blackberries took over. How could they have spread so quickly from the first two platefulls proudly exhibited at the Horticultural shows in the 1890's?" The banks of the Komakorau creek were a solid wall of blackberries, and countless man hours were spent on farms and school grounds cutting the prickly, twisty things; at the cemetery only the top of the iron railings round the lonely grave could be seen above the tangled mess. Then in 1928 Alexander Williamson, who had been living with his sons on "Okoropong" died.
"How can we go into Hamilton to tend his grave?" they asked each other.
"And it's not to be thought of, that the Dad's grave should be neglected."
So the hay-mower was dragged out of the shed and the two horses pulled it the three miles to the cemetery. Friends in the rallied, and with slashers, spades and fire they cleared a sufficient space along the fence line for the funeral party to stand by the grave-side. At first only the front part was kept tidy, then came one of the gigantic steps forward in the management of Waikato land! A spray that would control blackberries.
In 1951 Mrs. Don Riddell (who had come to Gordonton as a very young teacher in 1921, and stayed to become the beloved Aunty Rene even to hose who are not really nieces and nephews),called a meeting to discuss the matter and the Gordonton Beautifying Society was formed. At first it was all volunteer labour, as blackberries were sprayed, and trees planted and the long tangles of grass and weeds cut with the big farm mowers.
Some legal position had prevented the sale of the wide area in front of the store and garage, and now the untidy mess was cleaned up and a couple of picnic tables were put under the lovely oak trees.
"That's an untidy patch behind the hall," commented Lex Riddell one day". "Let's plant native trees."- a dream of Mrs. Williamson's for years and years. But now something was done. Eddie Renouf worked on the area with his bulldozer and almost every family in the district came to plant a tree.
But the prosperity of the Waikato was not only created in the past. We of the present must build on the work of the pioneers, but in this living, changing community or Gordonton it needs us all-old and young, Maori and Pakeha, to strive NOW to achieve happiness ano hormany NOW