The attraction of Maryhill

I was walking my dog around the streets of Maryhill tonight, the suburb in which I live, and it occurred to me just how tied to this suburb my family has been. I mean, my extended family: my grandparents and my mother, her brothers and sisters and their children.
I don't know enough about my great-grandparents places of abode to include them, so I'll start with my grandparents on my mother's side (my father's family lived in the UK all their lives).
My grandparents bought their first house in Elgin Rd, about five minutes' walk away from where I now live. At some point early in their marriage they moved to a second house, in Stanley St, also about five minutes away from where I live. They stayed there until they died.
Meanwhile, my mother, who was brought up in the Stanley St house, went to Australia for a few years, married, had me (her only child), separated from her husband and came back...to Stanley St, the house where my grandparents and two uncles lived, and where I was then brought up.
I'm trying to keep this simple, but I can see someone saying it's really complicated....hopefully it won't be.
My mother stayed on in Stanley St until she was 68. By this time, of course, I'd been away from there for a long time. I'd left that house in the mid-sixties (though I'd already been living briefly in a couple of other New Zealand cities). I went to England for six years, met my wife, and we came back here (supposedly for a couple of years, but ultimately, as children arrived, we stayed here).
We came back to Stanley St for a few months, and then got a flat in Maitland St - which is not in Maryhill. But then the landlord said we had to move. He was dividing the flat in two, which was a pity, as it had a lovely large room downstairs.
We began to rent a new place, not in Maryhill, but in the bigger suburb of Mornington that is alongside Maryhill. It was still less than ten minutes' walk to Stanley St. And then, after two and a half years, we moved...to Maryhill. In fact almost on the corner of Maryhill Terrace. Our house was, and of course still is, in Glenpark Avenue.
Glenpark Avenue is about five minutes' walk from Stanley St. In fact the cable car used to stop outside our door in Glenpark Ave, and I fell off it once when I was a child because I was in a rush to disembark.
In due course the Stanley St house, which was deteriorating, was sold, and my mother moved into a newly-built second storey on our house. She was now about five minutes away from both the two homes she'd lived in.
When I was child, one of my uncles and his family lived in Crosby St, about three minutes' walk away from our current house. One of my other uncles and his family lived about two minutes from Stanley St for a time. A third uncle, after starting off in Kaikorai Valley Rd - on the land, incidentally, where my great-grandfather once had a farm (so I'm told) - moved to a another house...in Maryhill Terrace, two or three minutes' walk away from where I now live. This uncle, after his children grew up, moved with my aunt to another house, about two minutes' walk from...Stanley St.
But while he was in Maryhill Terrace, the uncle who'd been in Crosby St, moved next door to him. These were all maternal uncles; my maternal aunts were a bit more adventurous, one winding up in Mosgiel, less than fifteen minutes' drive away, another went to the Wellington area, and a third, the eldest, after moving around various places in the North Island, settled in Wellington city.
What about my cousins? Around twelve of them (out of twenty-five) grew up in Maryhill, or on the fringe of Mornington. One still lives up the road in Benhar St, less than five minutes' walk away, next to the school I attended as a small child. One of her sisters, for a time, was in a house further down the hill, but still in Maryhill.
I think that's the sum of all those who've lived here.
What was the attraction? Maryhill is a lovely area, with wonderful views of the sea and the harbour, and quite a few hills, varying from moderate to steep. It's well-established, and there are some houses that go way back (ours is getting on for a hundred years old) and some streets that go way back to the origins of the suburb - one is like a terrace on the side of a hill, and narrow.
I don't know why my family was so attracted to this area, but they were, and in considerable numbers....

23.9.69 - first day in Edinburgh

23.9.69 [handwritten]

37 Great King St (around the corner from Dundas and Hanover Sts ˗ near Heriot Row, by George St (and Princes St), down from Canongate ˗ and so on! Obviously from the above you can see that I’m either today (23.9.69) in Dunedin or Edinburgh!! [Many of the street names are identical in the two cities.]

Today’s your big operation day too, isn’t it?? I’m praying for you, and have no doubts that you’ll get over this lot as quickly as the previous one. Look after yourself please and don’t be in too much of a hurry to get back to work.

Edinburgh is a very imposing place , it seems ˗ nearly every building in my part of the city (and also in the really old part ˗ this area is the new old part, (or the old new part, I’m not quite sure)) is made of heavy stone, and consequently several of the streets look much the same because they’re all of this grey granite ˗ (is it?) In fact to live in the old part for long could be a bit boring.

I walked up to the Castle yesterday ˗ that is a sight. And what a site too ˗ as we came into the city by bus yesterday we came along Princes St and on your right is this huge rock mound with a castle on top, and surrounded on all but one side by sheer cliff. Very impressive. The Castle was closing up when I got there unfortunately, but I may get back to it on Wednesday afternoon. I walked round quite a bit of the old old town ˗ and peered in at Greyfriars (Bobby) churchyard, though I couldn’t see much. It’s rather strange to find yourself back in a city where everything closes down about 5.30, and the place takes on a thoroughly deserted air. (London never looks deserted ˗ except about 2.00 am, or on Sunday morning.)

The Howard

I’m in quite a pleasant hotel ˗ fairly well-furnished but with singularly bare walls ˗ it’s the Howard, and is, I think, merely two old houses in a set of terraced ones that have been opened up to form one. [Three Georgian houses these days; possibly in 1969 as well, and probably more upmarket than at that time.]

The view from the Castle is fabulous ˗ Edinburgh is practically on the coast ˗ did you realise that? ˗ and you can see the sea! I found at breakfast this morning that I’m not alone in the Hotel ˗ Sara, the stage manager on the TV thing is also here, and Donna the soprano will be also staying when she arrives. I was sitting with a Yorkshire Forensic Science lecturer at breakfast ˗ he’s here for six months (had to leave his wife and three sons) to do a post-graduate course in teaching (as opposed to lecturing), and had my back to Sara for ages before I noticed her. We’re going to walk round to the Studios ˗ it isn’t far ˗ nothing seems to be in Edinburgh. It’s amazing just how small the city is! Love, Mike.

The letter that follows this one is here.

15.7.69 Changing flats

15.7.69

Well, well, and hullo. (15th July). Hope you are still recovering properly like a good wee girl. I’ve had Fred’s alter ego in here twice just lately ˗ a cat that is growing up to look like Fred. At least as I remember her. (Do you know in this day and age of photos I don’t possess a single one of you! And I’ve got three of Francisco, whom I’ve never seen.[This was a Korean orphan boy I sponsored for a few years.] Send me one, will you? Even if you have to have it especially taken with all the rest of the Hannagan clan.) This cat is terribly cheeky and walks in whenever I have the back door open and food cooking. I was in the middle of a Sunday meal one weekend, and suddenly felt something rub across my leg ˗ only on this occasion the door wasn’t even open. What a fright. She’d come in an open window! But she’s very like Fred, and I enjoy her company.

Well, several things have happened of interest. To go backwards, today, Hazel and I received a summons to go and see Mr Kentish after one of the rehearsals. Well, remember that TV business that we had going on at the Centre a while back? And how I was shot sitting doing absolutely nothing? Well, they want the people who appeared in that scene to go to Edinburgh in September to shoot a scene up there as a follow-up and they pay! Everything. Great great great.

On Sunday night I went up to town and after going to Church in the evening at six at my little French church off Leicester Square (Mass in French ˗ and sermon!) (it’s a beautiful church actually built with the same sort of material as in Moran Chapel, but about six times as big, right next to a cinema currently showing a hit film on Lesbians.) [Moran Chapel is/was in the centre of Dunedin, in the Octagon: a tiny place that might hold twenty people.] (I’ll have to get a new ribbon.) (Hold on...) [I changed the fading ribbon to an equally faded red one; almost impossible to read.]

As I was saying, I met up with David and Hazel and Dave’s flatmate John, and a friend of Hazel’s called Kathy Bird. And it turned out that Kathy had found a flat which she wanted to move into but found that she wasn’t going to have enough people ˗ again someone had opted out at the last minute. I said that if David agreed (Syrus, that is ˗ the one I was to share a flat with) it might be suitable for us to come in on. It’s a place with room for five people and six if wanted. So anyway last night David and I went out to look at it (after David had said he liked the idea ˗ I’ll still be going down to Hastings though, I think; I don’t see any reason not to see a bit more of the place) and it’s massive ˗ five bedrooms, a large lounge, a kitchen, bathroom, and lots of funny little off rooms, that don’t seem to have any purpose in life, and a private garden which at the moment looks fabulous. It’s on the ground floor of an old three-storeyed house, and the place has so many doors ˗ most of the rooms have two (?) that it looks like the set of a French farce! It’s not actually ours yet, but Kathy and I are going in tomorrow to look at it, so I’ll not finish this until it’s definite and then if it is you can start addressing mail there. [A woman lived upstairs on her own, as I recall, which meant she must have had an enormous amount of space. As for most of the rooms having two doors; I think this is nonsense. Mine did, but not the rest, as I recall. ]

Tomorrow night I go to NZ House near Piccadilly to a reception being held by the High Commissioner for NZ for James Robertson and Kiri [te Kanawa] before they go to NZ for Carmen. [A recording of this production is available on You Tube, though for video there are only still shots.]

Last night before going to see the flat David and I had tea at Alistair’s house (which he’s renting prior to getting married); actually Dave lives there too at the moment; and very nice place it is. An old three-storey place too, semi-detached, which means that you go up and down all the time to get anywhere, and that it’s rather narrow, but it’s also very cosy and comfy. And the sort of place that anyone would be happy in let alone newlyweds.

I’ll leave the rest of this till tomorrow.

Tomorrow is now here and this morning we went up to the agents near Oxford Circus and filled out an application for the flat. Now they’ve got to send away for three references from each of us, which will take about a week. I only hope that if they do accept us they don’t take too long about it, because the date they seem to think we should go in is about three days after I’m supposed to have left here!

This evening I went up to NZ House (after spending the entire day mucking around doing nothing at all in London ˗ it has been so hot that it’s impossible to do anything; a real muggy sort of heat, which is killing the English. I sat in St James Park this arvo doing absolutely nothing except watching the people go by for about two hours ˗ even went to the all cartoon show to fill in time for an hour ˗ it was cooler, and anyway they had a Laurel and Hardy, as well as part twelve of one of those old serials) for this reception for Robertson and Kiri, and it was pretty deadly and I didn’t really meet anyone new.

Our production of Il Tabarro promises to be really something. James conducted it while I played for a rehearsal the other day, and didn’t even complain about my playing in any way. A change. But as a show it should be fabulous ˗ and will knock the audience for six.  Ande Anderson, who is producing, is putting rather more into it than perhaps he would normally, because the situation rather parallels a marital situation he’s been involved in (he hasn’t said so, but it’s obvious from the knowledgeable way he speaks about the feelings of the characters involved.) [I suspect someone amongst the students suggested this and it became a reality.] I’ll be playing the celesta in the actual performances, which doesn’t mean much, as neither Schicchi nor Tabarro have much for the instrument. [Handwritten] That’s all for now. See ya, love Mike. 

20.10.68 The Magic Flute & a long walk home

20/10/68

Dear Mum, I can’t recall when I last wrote whether Ella Gerber had arrived or not, but she came on Wednesday, and promptly set the place in disorder, by rearranging all the schedules that had been worked out for her, and never keeping to her own time-tables either. And though she may do the students a lot of good in acting – she would make a marvellous play producer, she seems to know very little about music at all, and consequently it’s very hard to make her appreciate points that are necessary to the productions from the singers point of view. 

Anyway, enough of her. We went to see The Magic Flute on Friday morning.  (Also saw the Opera for All version of Manon – it wasn’t bad, although I think the production has some very bad moments, and Ann Gordon who is doing Manon, is really very good, but the thing rather requires a huge chorus and stage, to hide the faults that promptly turn up when done this way.  Never mind, it was quite enjoyable and the third act is excellent.)  The Flute is a delight.  It’s sheer pantomime, anyway, but has the added advantage of a good bloke on the musical side – Mozart!  The whole thing is done on a sort of raised stage with an infinite variety of squares set into it. It is only after the first scene that one appreciates the fact that the entire floor is full of trap-doors and throughout the piece, people suddenly vanish through the floor or appear unexpectedly in a cloud of smoke, or props rise out of it, etc. Fascinating. The dragon in the first scene is a little tame – he hangs in mid-air, snorting a bit but not really threatening the hero. But when the Queen of the Night arrives a little later, the scenery at the back rolls away to thunder and lightning, and a set of stars appear to reveal her slowly gliding forward on a platform.  The girl who is playing her – a Dutch lady – has so remarkable a voice it almost ceases to be human in sound.  When she sings at first it doesn’t sound like much, but once she starts her coloratura you wonder how such perfection can exist in a human being.  Every single note is clear – there’s practically a definite click between them, and she hits top Ds and Es etc as though it were as easy as eating.  [This was Christina Deutekom – rest of the cast listed here.]  The rest of the cast are equally good: the tenor is the right shape, and sings well, the soprano heroine is gorgeous in every way, the bass is like a singing statue but the sound is magnificent, and the women who play the three ladies, even though they have some tricky ensemble work, have such clear enunciation that you wonder if you’re really hearing it right. And the Papageno, though his voice is not to my liking, is very funny.  But the whole thing is full of delightful ideas – the animals (about twenty children) who appear when Tamino plays his flute, the chorus of baddies who dance away when Papageno plays his magic bells, the three boys (who sing very well) and invariably appear in a floating chariot type thing that swings slowly and gracefully across, up, down and around the stage, the lighting effects throughout: lamps that appear to have no source, but which quietly flicker away in a kind of non-existent breeze, a huge cyc (pronounced syke) [short for cyclorama] or plain backcloth that at one part turns from a daylight blue slowly through every blue in existence, carpets that don’t just roll straight forward, but which have a bias in them and roll round at an angle, so that they look like they are vanishing over the horizon (like the yellow brick road in Oz) and so on and so on.  It’s surely one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen on stage, and I really wish you too could see this particular show.  [I’d seen the NZ Opera Company’s Magic Flute a few years before this, and had been charmed out of my socks by their production, so this must have been good. I can still visualise the Queen of the Night’s entrance, in fact.]

This weekend I didn’t go up to the Crowls as we had a rehearsal on Saturday morning, and it wasn’t due to finish till 1.00, and that’s too late to start tootling up there, though Reg suggested I come up a bit later. But I said I felt perhaps I should stay home and show Kingsley round a bit of London (as it happened he didn’t seem particularly interested when I did. He’s a funny boy in some ways: - he seems to think I’m very reserved, particularly as far as the opposite sex is concerned, [I was] and yet quite honestly, I think the boot’s entirely on the other  foot. Don’t mean I’m Don Juan, but I think I’m interested in a more general outlook on life, etc. He doesn’t drink, smoke, eat sweets or fruit, or ice-cream, doesn’t read books, aaaagh! Seems to me to be a rather narrow sphere he’s set himself.  However there’s no use forcing things on him, but thank goodness Mike’s still here, cynical and unpunctual as he may be, he’s at least on my wavelength.) [This may be a bit harsh about Kingsley: he was probably just interested in things that I wasn’t interested in!]

At 5.30 last night, I went to where Mike is at present living – Kingsley was going to Aida – and from there we went round to Kensington way somewhere where Norman and Doris McKinlay from Dunedin were staying and finished off the scraps of food and drink that they wanted to get rid of before they left today on their way home. They’ve been here about three months on a business trip. I think. [Norman McKinlay, as I recall, was involved in theatre in Dunedin, but wasn’t someone I knew well; he’d have been better acquainted with Mike.]  Mike and I had intended to go to a film at the NFT at 8.45 but we didn’t get there, and so found ourselves in Oxford St at 10 or so with nothing to do.  Well, we wandered down through Soho (which even at night is only rowdy, not dangerous or anything, rather sleazy perhaps) and called in at a pub just before closing time (11.00) and had a half of bitter (compare Coronation St!).  Mike thought that buses ran all night so we decided to go to a late film showing, and went, and got out at 1.30, to find that buses don’t run on Saturday night for some obscure reason.  So we wended our way back to his flat which is close by, and had a cup of coffee and a glass of brandy and ginger, to put some warmth into me, because I’d decided to walk home. At least a good deal of the way and then get a taxi for the last part. Well, I left Mike at 2.50 and covered something like four miles in an hour and about 20 minutes. It’s a straight, though long walk from Oxford St via Commercial Rd to Plaistow. And wound up getting a taxi for the last couple of miles and arriving home about 4.30 a little tired! But actually it was quite an enjoyable night, just relaxed, and with nothing special to do. Mike and I are like brothers now, I feel [handwritten], we accept each other’s faults because we’ve known each other so long and just enjoy what’s left of each other’s company.  Luv Mike.

[From Oxford St to Newman Rd in Plaistow, via Commercial Rd, is about seven and a half miles.  Google reckons it would take about two and a half hours walking. Perhaps I was following in Charles Dickens’ footsteps: he often went for long walks at night, anything up to twenty miles!]

3.10.68 - Students and subsidies

Letter not dated but postmarked 3^rd Oct, 1968

Dear mother, you silly old thing, just because your little poem upset me a little once doesn’t mean to say that you should give up what is obviously a new career opening before you!  The first time I read it, it had an amusing effect – I just read it again, on the wrong day.  But while we’re on the subject, so to speak, of upsetting things, I’d better say that for this Course to be worthwhile in the long run, I’ll have to stay in the UK after it’s over.  Not that I wouldn't come home tomorrow, if I could bring London with me!  But, presuming that I come out of it all with the degree of success expected, I can see obviously that it would be a waste to go straight home again – not that they wouldn't like me anymore, or find something to do with me, but there’s that much more room for expansion, here, and since I seem to be cut out for something in this line, it’s no use constantly chopping and changing for the rest of my life.  I know you will understand, and I know too that the amount you miss me, is equal at least to the amount I miss you and everybody else at home.  But it seems the Good Lord intended things to go this way – you never know he might change the whole look of things tomorrow, and I may find that things are different entirely. Anyway, that’s the position as it stands.  To think that I might never see Dunedin again doesn’t bear thinking about, as you realise, I know, but when I hear, just for example, that to put a student through at the LOC costs somebody £1500! it’s only fair I should do my best to come out at the other end at least with the look of what I went in there for!  And even if there wasn’t a mysterious somebody paying that amount there are two unmysterious bods – you and me – paying considerably more, by contrast, towards my future, and I don’t think I should let us down.  It’s all very serious isn’t it, and I started out on this letter in a happy frame of mind, so as long as we can content ourselves with being as close as mum and son can across a few thousand miles, I dare say we’ll pull through.  I hope that hasn't upset you; don’t wish to make you miserable when I send you a letter.  [Until I re-read this letter I'd forgotten that someone must have subsidised me to go to the LOC. I don’t think I ever knew who it was: perhaps it was Prof Peter Platt, from the Music Department at the University of Otago who had spoken on my behalf to the LOC and who encouraged me to go; perhaps it was Bertha Rawlinson, the Dunedin singer.  Perhaps it was a group of people associated with the Dunedin Opera Company. I don't think I've ever known.]

Let’s change the subject. I sent a card to Marg. But it won’t arrive until after the date. It’s just a postcard – they’re 10d to post but at least it shows we’re thinking of her; after all I used to get on very well with her, didn’t I?  [Regrettably, I'm not sure who this ‘Marg’ was – I suspect she was more my mother's friend than mine.]

Finally wrote to Kevin R[owlands] since that seemed safer than trying to contact him at the theatre, and asked him if he’d let me know what was the best way of getting in touch with him.  [I was obviously feeling obliged to contact this man because our neighbours had been keen that I should do so, and you can read that in the lines.]

I still don’t feel that I am in London – I’ve just never got that feeling I expected of being in such a place.  I think for one thing it’s because the places seen in photos so often are quite different in reality.  Trafalgar Square looks impressive in a verydifferent way here to the way the photos make it look and so does Piccadilly Circus. Silly, isn’t it? Big Ben gets me though – it is remarkably beautiful – there’s something quite golden about the look of it, which is something that I’d never seen in photos.  And crossing over the Thames anywhere is something that I find enchanting. London skies always seem to be a sort of lovely grey, and the buildings go so well with this, and the river, that that’s my favourite part of the city, I think. 

Do send the Tablets, if it’s not too expensive – I haven’t had any yet, so they’re a treat in store.  [Again, I think this was note that I felt obliged to put in; I can’t remember ever feeling that strongly about the magazine.]

The school goes on as busily as last week, and when I’ve done a day there, I really feel as though I’ve been working. It’s the sheer concentration, I think. And my bottom is getting calluses on it from sitting on hard chairs so much!! 

We saw the dress rehearsal of An Italian Girl in Algiers last night, done by the LOC Opera for All Group.  (There are Welsh and Scots ones too.)  And it was a delight, after a slightly shaky start.  Rossini really was a comic master.  There is one ensemble – the story is too incredible for words of course – where seven mixed characters sing – everyone something different, on top of a simple um chah accompaniment.  And it’s so so funny – just because each time you think it’s going to go off in another direction it starts all over again.  The ensemble singing of the cast was excellent. 

While I have a bit of space let me tell you about some of the students, so that you’ll have something to refer to if necessary. John Opie! [he was actually Alan Opie, as I wrote in an earlier letter – the exclamation mark is because I’d worked with a Ramon Opie in the NZ Opera Quartet] from Cornwall, who is a baritone, and takes off my NZ accent – when I’m not taking off an East End one – there’s such a variety of accents at the school that we spend half the time taking each other off, and when it comes to a language class!  John has a good sense of humour – lacking in some of the more London type singers (and others).  David Cyrus [actually Syrus, who became my best friend out of the student intake of that year], a rep, a sort of ungainly boy, and awkward to look at, and who makes me feel as though there is perhaps someone else around whom I’m on a par with.  [David was, and still is, somewhat awkward in mannerisms – it’s part of his charm.  He was forever apologising, so much so that when I berated him for it in a letter from NZ once, after I’d been back here for some years, he sent by return mail an aerogram with a single, tiny word stuck in the middle on the page – ‘Sorry’. David would go on to be Head of Music at Covent Garden, where he began work in 1971 and still remains.]

Alistair Dawes, a rep, and friend from youth of the above.  Smokes a pipe, has a shock of hair (or perhaps the hair itself has had the shock!), and, like four of the reps, has permanent specs, and is able to be amused. (So is D.C)  Anthony Negus, the most pro of the reps – he freelanced in coaching last year [I conveniently forget at this point that I’d already worked for at least two years as a professional repetiteur and accompanist], is mad on Wagner, on opera in general, and looks hurt if you criticise anything [related to opera, that is]. Very confident, and generally with good reason.  Henry Ward, seemingly the odd-rep-out, no glasses, full of fire, apparently, but with an extremely lackadaisical attitude to work, and an intense dislike of stuff that doesn’t please him.  A very friendly smile but rather unapproachable (he’ll probably go somewhere). [I can’t find anything on the Net about Henry; he left LOC in the first half of the year, I think, because he didn’t feel it was teaching him anything, and possibly went onto a conducting job with one of the Northern Opera Companies.]  A.N. also pipes – his is worse smelling, (though still not unpleasant) than A.D’s.  Keith Stoppard, baritone, married to the daughter of a top Engineer (at present head of the Plessey Co in Aussie), an ex-engineer himself, and, unfortunately no relation to Tom Stoppard who is at present one of London’s top dramatists.  [I seem to remember Keith had difficulties as a married student juggling everything in his life; he was possibly the only married student apart from Kiri. I can’t find anything on the Net to say what became of him. He was one of the friendlier – and more mature – singing students.] David Patmore, one of the S.Ms [stage management students], slight stutter (which makes his German tricky!) very friendly with the reps, and a very nice guy.  [He also became a good friend during this time.]  He and the other 4 reps are all ex-OXFORD!  What distinguished company.  [handwritten] Oxford can’t be so highbrow after all!  There are no girls here [in this list of names, rather than not at the Centre at all] because I can’t remember who they are from day to day – they change their hair styles.  [Yup, a pretty weak excuse – of course there were girls, and of course I already knew some of them.]  Love, Mike

Commendatory letter

This item was sent by A H McLintock on the occasion of Charles Hannagan's retirement.  It relates to McLintock's History of Otago volumes that Charles bound by hand.  The letter has the House of Representatives logo on it, perhaps because McLintock worked as the Parliamentary Historian at one period in his life.  

Wgtn
21.12.53

Dear Mr Hannagan,
     I have just heard that you have retired from C.S.W., [Coulls Somerville Wilkie, a major printing firm in Dunedin] after a long time of skilled service as craftsman.

     I should like to extend to you my v. best wishes for a long and happy retirement.  I still regard my 'de luxe' Otago volumes with special pride.  It is a triumph of craftsmanship.

     With every good wish,
     Yours sincerely,
     A H McLintock

The envelope shows that the letter took a bit of getting to its recipient.  It was originally addressed to Coulls, Somerville, Wilkie, Dunedin (nothing more!), then sent onto Stanley St (a handwritten: Try Stanley St, Mornington, W1 - the postie would be expected to know the number) and then onto the Ryan's home, where presumably Charles and Flora were holidaying at that time: c/o D N Ryan, P O Box 13, Ohura, King Country. 

Letter from Jack to Pat

I've been having a clean out of old papers and amongst all the stuff has been various bits of family memorabilia.  Last night I came across an envelope with an old letter in it that I don't remember seeing before.  It’s from [my uncle] Jack to Pat when she was in Australia, and was sent on Sunday the 15th Feb, 1948.  Monica and Des had just got married; they lived at Stanley St the year we came home.   Jack was 17 in 1948; it was also the year that Mum and I came back to Dunedin, without my father.  I found another letter too, from Nan (my grandmother) in which she’s talking about all three of us coming back.  Obviously something didn’t work out along that line.   I’ll copy that letter here too, shortly.
Here’s Jack’s one.  He gets a bit carried away at times, and full stops become unimportant...but it's nice to see the typical Hannagan humour coming through.

Dear Pat,
It is about time I wrote the airmail [?] don’t you think?  Well here goes.
        Well Mum and Dad went away for there [sic] holiday on Thursday and as far as the weather goes here I think they have had plenty of sunshine.  Terry and I had to get our own tea on Thursday and afterwards I went to the pictures.  I came home from the pictures and at about 11.50 pm Monica and Des arrived home and we didn’t expect them till Friday.  Anyway I got to sleep at about 1 o’clock after a lot of talking; they seem to have had a pretty good time from what they told us.
        On Saturday morning Terry went for his holiday up to Wellington but he had a terrible day for travelling as it was so hot.
        We got all the snaps back from the chemist the other day but Terry took them all to Wellington with him so I will send him a telegram on Monday to send all mine down and I will send them all over to you and you can take the ones you want.  They are very small but you can see what everyone looks like.  I just had a look around but I can’t even find even one tiny small one to send you.
        By the way the pen I am writing this letter with was given to me by Des III [Stokes] for serving the mass for them.  It’s one of those that writes so many thousand words and then stops.  They say you can’t fill them but Dad reckons he can so we can try.  It looks like an ever sharp pencil cause the nib comes out the end and just looks like the lead.  The pen is very easy to write with but I’m very much afraid that I am unable to do it justice.  (So much for the pen).
      I’ve got a photo of [the Ryans] I thought you might be interested it’s not bad for me eh what?
      I just got another photo this time one of Miss Patricia O’Flaherty she’s a corker wee kid from what Mr and Mrs Stokes tell us.  When you see this you've seen just as much of her as we have.
We had a lot of fun the day of the wedding especially when Des was trying to get the car out.  First of all before Monica and Des came home after the breakfast we tied tincans on the back of the car and one Mr Munro printed on the back (just married).  As he was trying to get the car out three of us pushed like mad and he couldn't move an inch.  However he eventually got out onto the street and as they tried to get away Terry put a potatoe [sic] in the exhaust and Des didn’t know what was wrong.  Well he got started and by this time Charlie had a rope tied on the bumper bar and they still couldn't move and after a while they got away and the next we heard they were in Timaru then they went to Wellington and from there to Napier where they stayed for a while and came home.
      Well as this pen only writes so many words I better keep it to write to you next year or maybe a bit sooner than that.  Cheerio for now,
Love,
Jack.
PS Hurry up and come over so I won’t have to write so regularly.
Note on the back.  How’s Michael and Frank ain't I awful I forgot to ask.

Sent to: 
Mrs F A Crowl
6th Floor
Rationing Directorate
159 Flinders Lane
Melbourne
Australia.

Okay, once upon a time I was good looking!

As a one-year old. Note the handwritten 'Artgraf' below the photo, and the fact that this is probably hand-coloured. Certainly, if it is, it's very well done.



As a schoolboy. This photo would have been taken in Dunedin. The firm was Polyphoto.

Francis Hannagan

A very cold Saturday and I'm finally trying to get some of the info sent to me by Nola Marshall sorted. I might put some of it on the Family Tree site, but information space is limited to 1000 words there, and Nola has provided some extensive info on some people. Note the usual inconsistency in the spelling of the family name!

Victorian Police Gazette, February 1856: Lost or stolen, from the person of Francis HANNAGAN, on the night of the twelfth instant somewhere in Melbourne, an open faced silver lever watch, No 1152, makers name Robertson of Liverpool, with gold guard attached, gold ring with FH engraved outside , and a dark coloured pocket book, with a small ink bottle. Five pounds in gold and silver , and sundry documents. Information to the Inspector of Detective police, Melbourne 16th February 1856.

Friday February 19th 1892 NEW ZEALAND TABLET We record with regret the death of Mr Francis Hannigan, [sic] father in law of Mr John Blaney, of the Caledonian Hotel, South Dunedin, which occurred at the age of 67,on Monday last. Mr Hannigan was an old member and well-known resident of Dunedin, where he came from Victoria at the time of the gold rush. He stood high in the esteem of a large circle of friends and acquaintances. R.I.P.

There are also three other known mentions of Francis Hannagan in newspaper reports.
Otago Witness 7 May 1870, page 14
Otago Witness,Issue 1047, 23 December 1871, page 6
Otago Witness,Issue 1075, 6 July 1872, page 8

I've included these for the moment as a reference.

Daphne's Tour Coming to an End

May not get another chance for a at least a few days as we're off to Warsaw again tomorrow with the tour ending on Sunday morning.

We've been here at Gydinia for the longest time of 3 nights. It's just a beautiful place and today when we came back from our tour of Westerplatte and lunch at Gdansk, I walked down to the lovely beach which was absolutely crowded with people, young and old, and paddled for the second time in the Baltic Sea. It was quite warm and the waves very gentle. I left John behind as he's not keen on the sand but it was so interesting just watching all the people - and the children are so cute. As I was sitting drying off my sandy feet some of the other people from our tour came along and we chatted for a while before I came and picked John up to go and get something to eat. I just thought how much my family would have liked being here enjoying the beach, and with so many bars and food stalls along the way you could have something to eat before going home to put the children to bed. Again, there were so many people!

Today was a religious holiday in Poland so the shops and museums were closed for the day. There would have been processions but we didn't see them as that was the time we were having lunch. Gdansk is the home of Amber and there's quite a few pieces of amber jewellery going home on our bus - I can tell you. The American people seem to be able to spend up large! I did purchase a few items but not today.

Westerplatte was very interesting as it is the place where the WWII started. It was also the place where Pope John Paul spoke to thousands of young people and his words "War Never Again" are displayed there as well. There is also a commemorative cemetery where each year they have a memorial service similar to our Anzac Day services in NZ. The tour guide said she hadn't been as it was about 4.30 in the morning but her friend had said it was very moving.

It has been definitely more relaxing the last couple of days but tomorrow we're off again to Warsaw and visiting Marlbrook Castle on the way. We also have lunch there. Not sure what we're up to on Sat but Sat evening we have our final dinner together as well as a folklore show which will be nice. Our tour guide tried to organise one for us today but because of the holiday it wasn't possible.

I haven't mentioned at all the food we've had during our stay in Poland. It has been absolutely amazing, except for the pizza we had this evening, and I am totally sold on Polish food although it probably wouldn't be too good for my waist line as they love their cakes and we've sampled many types of them. Maybe we need a Polish restaurant in Dunedin!

Hope all is well in NZ. It seems a bit strange not knowing what's going on in the rest of the world for such a long time.

An Update on Thomas Milliman Joyce

A while ago I wrote to the Dunedin Public Library and asked if they could help with any info on Thomas Milliman Joyce. There was a bit of confusion at some point, because the librarian, Cheryl, thought his name was just Thomas Milliman. So her first email response was as follows:

I have been searching for information on Thomas Milliman as discussed by email but have not been having very much luck.

As I indicated in my first email, I checked with 2 sources I thought may be able to help.
Firstly, my husband has been writing up the history of the Lee Stream Hindon area for the local committee. He is working from notes made and collected by various people in the area so although he has done a lot of work verifying information he did not collate the original material. I asked him to check for your Mr Milliman and he found one reference to him being in the area in 1895 but the name has been extracted from a list that came from the Chief Post Office. He believes that the list may have gone to the Hocken Library as a lot of material was deposited there.

I also checked with another patron who is doing work on hotels around Dunedin and Otago. He provided me with a list of hotels and licensees at Lee Stream for the years 1878-1895. There appear to have been 2 hotels - Lee Stream Hotel and the Carriers Arms - but there is no Thomas Milliman listed as licensee.

I checked Stone's directories from 1893-1905 but his name does not appear with a hotel or in the alphabetical sequence. I also checked electoral roll 1894 and 1897 for the Taieri electorate but he is not listed there either. I have checked the newspaper index and other genealogical resources with out luck.

I am sorry I cannot be of assistance at this stage, perhaps the Hocken Library will provide a few more clues. Of course , if I come across any information I will contact you and if find any leads I will be happy to do further checking.

After I'd informed her of her mistake, she wrote back:

Thanks, your email gave me a nasty moment!! I double-checked and I did find him, with variations, in some records but still nothing linking him to the Lee Stream Hotel. I did give the correct name to my other informants. The person who is working on hotels gave me a printed list of licensees of the hotels in the area and his name did not appear.

I have found Mr Joyce in the 1893 electoral roll. He is listed as "Milliman Thomas Joyce" bookbinder , living at Hindon. Hestor is listed as a housewife, also at Hindon and Arthur is listed twice, once as a labourer of Hindon and again as a farmer of Hindon.

I checked some of the Stone's directories (I didn't do very many because I am not sure how much checking you may have done already). In Stone's directory 1893 "Thomas Milman Joyce" is listed as a bookbinder, Union Street, Dunedin.

In 1894 Stone's directories, he does not appear at all - under any variation of the name!
In 1895 James Joyce appears as a farmer at Hindon.
In 1896 Stone's there are no Joyce's listed at Hindon.
In 1897 Stone's directories "Thomas Joyce" is listed as a bookbinder, Buchanan Street, M[ornington]

Both Mr Joyce and his wife appear on the cemeteries database. "Milliman Thomas Joyce" this time!

I will leave my searching at that point and wait until I hear from you. My apologies for getting muddled the first time round!

You can see how difficult tracing family history can be...and I haven't even done any of it here. It would appear that the story about him being licensee of the hotel

From Anne Ryan - now Meekan

Another Ryan here - I'm Anne, the Ryans' youngest and one of the group of four girl cousins born in the six months July to January - some year in the sixties! It does seem a long time ago since I used to spend the school holidays in Dunedin with Barbara [Stokes], Jane [Hannagan] and Theresa [Hannagan].

Of the four cousins I was the slowest off the ranks and consequently still have school aged children, (rumour has it one of the others is a Grandmother!)

I moved to Auckland with work in 1989 and met Kevin [Meekan] here. We still live in Auckland with our three children Kieran (12) , Sophie (9) and Sean (7). Life is full, busy and heaps of fun. I have just started working again after a social decade looking after the kids and running them here there and everywhere, and am contracting as a Technical Writer, which is better than it sounds.