While death is always a tragedy, there is something particularly terrible about a death of a beloved family member just before Christmas.
Leonard Naylor was on his way home for Christmas.
It was December 23, 1939, when he got a ride with 23-year-old Leslie Trevor Moore who had a car. They were heading from Gisborne to Tiniroto, a tiny farming and forestry village part way to Wairoa.
The pair had set off just after midnight - very early morning.
It would be more than 24 hours before they were found - by which time Leslie was dead.
Naylor, who was 45, was never able to remember what had happened. They were driving and then they were over 300ft down a bank to the Kaikoura river.
About 7am on Christmas Eve, a truck driver from the Public Works department, Harry Campbell saw Naylor lying on the side of the road badly cut up and unconscious.
He realised Naylor had managed to climb up the bank and went down himself to find the car at the bottom with Leslie in it.
Campbell went for help.
A rescue complete with ropes and a sledge was needed to retrieve Leslie.
His watch was found to have stopped at 4.35.
Neither man was believed to have been drinking.
Moore was a lorry driver himself and only a few weeks before had been fined 2 pounds for speeding
Moore had been born in 1916 the third son of Phillip and Edith Moore.
Naylor never seemed to quite recover, being in trouble for drinking on and off for several years after. He died in 1963 and is buried in Taruheru Cemetery.
Moore, who was single, was buried in Patutahi Cemetery.
Picture by Artem Maltsev.​

Richard Pearse is best known as the Kiwi who beat the Wright brothers to powered flight. But in fact it was a tiny part of the tortured history of the man who died in obscurity in a mental asylum.
Born on December 3, 1877 to Sarah and Digory Sargent Pearse who was a farmer a few miles from Temuka.
He was the fourth of nine children and was the family dreamer. He played cello in the family orchestra and was a champion tennis player.
After school his dream was to study engineering. It would have meant going to Canterbury College but the family could not afford it.
Instead when he turned 21 he was given a 100 hectare block on the family land. He promptly built a workshop on it, even building his own forge and lathe.
It was here that his inventing started. For all we believe him to be the person who invented and built and then flew the first plane, it was only one invention among a huge number.
His first patented invention, dating from 1902, was an ingenious new style of bicycle, bamboo-framed with a vertical-drive pedal action, rod-and-rack gearing system, back-pedal rim-brakes and integral tyre pumps.
Richard’s dream however was to fly.
He read about advancement with experiments overseas in scientific journals and he seems to have worked on ideas for powered flight from as early as 1899 and built a two cylinder petrol engine. Around it he built a bamboo, tubular steel, wire, canvas monoplane with short wide wings, which is a bit like the design of modern microlights now.
His first attempt that was witnessed was on the road near his farm. He spent about 50 yards in the air before crashing. There are no details of it beyond that and it wasn’t until two of his letters were public - published in 1915 and 1928 that he wrote it was early 1904. He also believed he did not achieve proper flight and did not beat the Wright brothers who flew in December 1903.
But later and with the help of eye witnesses, it is more likely the day he flew was March 1903 rather than 1904.
He kept at it, achieving several other powered take-offs or long hops. In July 1906 he patented his aircraft.
His genius however was barely recognised. He was a failure as a farmer - and most likely frustrated when his attempts did not do better.
He was given several nicknames - such as Mad Pearse - by neighbours who treated him with scepticism
So he moved to South Otago where he farmed near Milton and set out inventing farming equipment.
He was conscripted into the Otago Infantry Regiment in May 1917 and sent overseas in January 1918, but was too ill to see action and he returned to New Zealand in October that year.
In 1921 he moved to Christchurch and built houses and began work on a second plane, applying for a patent in 1943 - it was approved in 1949.
It was well before its time, with tilting engines to allow vertical take-off and landing.
But there was no interest from aviation companies and Pearse became more and more paranoid and was admitted to Sunnyside hospital. He died there on July 29, 1953.
Among his other inventions were a needle threader, power cycle, recording machine, harp, power generator, potato planter, top dresser and musical boxes.
Richard was cremated at Bromley Crematorium Chapel. A memorial rose tree was planted over the ashes; appropriately, it was a "Pearse Rose."​

Dr Dutton’s problems were all his own doing.
Doctors were often held to be men deserving of great respect especially in remote places where they were called out and it took them considerable effort to minister to patients.
But William Henry Dutton was hardly worthy of respect. A womaniser, alcoholic and generally unpleasant, it’s hardly a wonder he lost his first job in New Zealand before he even started it.
Dutton was hired by Arrowtown Hospital Trustees in 1894 to replace their last doctor. He was coming from Australia and had beaten out 31 other candidates.
He was hired as a surgeon and the Otago Witness newspaper reported he had a string of letters after his name.
But even as the offer of a job was being made, Australian newspapers were reporting , with some glee, the salacious tales of his well publicised divorce.
It even turned out some of his references were forged. One was from the Bishop of Goulburn who admitted he knew Dutton’s parents and they were respectable people but he would not have written a reference that described Dutton as having ‘steady habits”
Reports were coming in from Australia of Dutton’s divorce case from his wife Mary Dent Oswald for adultery, cruelty and habitual drunkenness. There was also a suggestion that she was so afraid of him that she and their infant son spent the night outside in cold weather rather than go back inside - after which the baby died.
Evidence of another doctor he had been in partnership with spoke of his drinking, his bad language to his wife, a chemist nearby told of getting into a fight with a drunk Dutton and domestic servants said he was inappropriately intimate with them.
Dutton himself blamed everything on his wife. And to a lesser extent to his three children.
They had married in 1884 when Mary was 17 - and she came into a lot of money after the death of her father.
They were ill-suited. Mary was from a refined family while Dutton was much rougher and everything he had had come from his own hard work.
The divorce was granted and Dutton headed for New Zealand.
The news that his job no longer existed came to him only after he landed but it didn’t stop him. Dutton set up a private hospital in the New Orleans Hotel and much to the public hospital’s chagrin turned out to be more popular than the doctor who took his place.
He worked for a bit then took a short trip back to Victoria before returning to Otago, working between Gore and Invercargill for a bit before settling in Queenstown.
For a while he did well for himself, affecting some amazing cures and was popular for it.
He wrote one book, called The Bird of Paradise, that was supposedly a work of fiction, but in fact was about himself with the facts twisted to reflect better on him.
But it got a lukewarm reception and Dutton went back to drinking.
At only 38, the drinking caught up with him and he died on November 18, 1896. His body was returned to Australia and he was buried at the Geelong Western Public Cemetery.
Picture from Te Papa’s collection.​

Harry Dale really did run away and join the circus but it turned out to be his death.
Circus’ were huge attractions in the late 19th and early 20th century.
But far from the type of spectacle they are now, these were the old style - dangerous animals, tricks, clowns and trapeze artists in a big ring.
People flocked to them.
Even the strange performing flea circus that toured the South Island in 1889-90 as part of the New Zealand and South Seas exhibition.
Along with a switchback railway or roller coaster, a camera obscura, the Fat Family, Jo-Jo the Russian Dog Faced Boy (who was said to resemble a Skye terrier), Unzie the frizzy-haired and gentlemanly Circassian Albino, and two replicas of the Eiffel Tower, the fleas were quite the attraction.
Professor Upini (sometimes Ubini) was travelling with his troupe of world celebrated performing fleas - the first to visit New Zealand - and he set up in a building in George St.
His fleas performed feats of strength pulling chariots, a wheeled (miniature) elephant and a cab.
Newspapers even reported that they chopped wood and carried water.
They had extraordinary names, like Boulanger and Bismarck, and fought duels with swords and one named Tom was a miniature strong man.
A local newspaper even gave a hilarious (and ridiculous) story about how the fleas were trained.
The whole thing was hugely popular.
Very little is known about Signor Upini except he came from London and claimed his grandfather was who had perfected educating fleas.
One of the biggest circuses to visit New Zealand regularly was the Wirth Bros. Formed by Philip Wirth and his brother George, officially opening in 1880, the circus travelled throughout New Zealand several times over 60 years. It was usually based in Australia and coming over must have been quite the exercise for its biggest attractions were its elephants.
Their first elephant was bought from Burma
In 1909 the whole circus were heading off on the road from Hastings when they came across a steam traction engine stuck in shingle by the Waipawa River. The driver asked if the elephants could pull it out.
Five elephants were hooked up and managed to pull it out.
One of the elephants was Toby, who was considered bad tempered.
Later that year, back in Australia Harry Dale, who was a New Zealander, was in charge of Toby while transporting materials to a train at the railway station. Toby pinned Harry against a railway truck, crushing him badly.
Harry died June 27, 1909 and is buried at Apple Tree Creek Cemetery in Queensland. His gravestone says he was a member of the Wirth Bros circus.​

The specialist companies of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force may not have had huge numbers, but their impact was massive.
The Tunnelling Company was made up mainly of miners. They dug subways, cable trenches and dugouts but their most important work was burrowing under enemy trenches to plant explosives.
In 1914 the British began working on warfare below the trenches, but could not compete with their enemy.
So the call went out and men from all over New Zealand (except miners working with coalmines because it was considered an essential industry) began joining up.
Enlistment began in October 1915 and they needed 250 minors and 150 unskilled workers for the first company.
The company worked exclusively on the Western Front and led to the first confirmed Kiwi death on the Front - Sapper Michael Tobin.
Tobin had been born on February 8, 1880, in Pukekohe to Michael and Mary Tobin.
Michael had been working as a miner for the Public Works department - which had huge numbers of workers who undertook most major construction works in the country including roads and power stations.
He had been at Mt Maunganui in the Bay of Plenty when he volunteered to enlist in October 1915.
He left New Zealand on HMNZT Ruapehu two months later.
Records describe him as 5’9 of fair complexion with blue eyes.
In April 1916, his company had landed in France and were sent to an area just north east of Arras. The company blew up a counter mine which let out gas.
The section of ground had to be reopened and the company continued to work despite a number of men having bad colds and some with measles.
A few days later Michael was admitted to hospital and was diagnosed with bronchial pneumonia.
He died a day later. Michael had never married but had seven brothers and sisters.
He was buried at Beauval Communal Cemetery, Somme, France, the only New Zealander interred there.
His name can be seen on the Tauranga Domain Memorial Gate.​

William Seed’s life was one of service to his country and government and that was what was celebrated when he died.
But it’s his connection with a literary giant that makes him extraordinary.
William was born in England in 1827 and came to New Zealand with his family when he was young, landing in Wellington.
He went into the office of Colonel Wakefield, principal agent of the New Zealand company then transferred to the staff of Sir George Grey then on to the Customs Department.
He remained there until 1863 when he was elected to fill the role of undersecretary to the newly formed Defence department then became Collector of Customs before being Head of the department.
He was considered the most able of public servants.
In 1868, he was appointed Auditor-General then went to a Royal Commission to enquire into the keep of Treasury Accounts.
William toured Samoa and in 1975 he went to England where he toured lighthouses.
It was here he met Robert Louis Stevenson. Stevenson was captivated by William’s description of the South Pacific.
Stevenson was ill, he had chronic bronchitis and suffered from it his whole life.
It was because of William’s accounts of the warm Pacific islands that Stevenson decided to travel, leaving England in 1888 on the yacht Casco and for three years he wandered the seas, stopping at islands.
He had written his pirate adventure Treasure Island already
Stevenson came to New Zealand in 1890 on the Janet Nicoll and was supposed to meet Governor General George Grey but was too ill.
He and his wife Fanny checked into the Star Hotel for the night then returned to the boat. That night it caught fire. Fanny, with great presence of mind saved Stevenson’s trunk of manuscripts before they managed to put the fire out.
Stevenson visited Auckland again in 1893 and then met Grey, all because of a chance meeting with Seed.
Seed died on February 6, 1890 and is buried in Bolton St Cemetery.​

As the cold weather gives way to warmer days, a sport of warm days begins.
Cricket is almost as much our sport as rugby and it's been around for hundreds of years.
But the first recorded game is from December 20, 1843, and mentioned in the diary of Church Missionary Society leader Henry Williams.
His pupils at his mission school in Paihia in the Bay of Plenty were given a day off. They had sat exams the day before and sorely needed some play.
Williams himself played, conceding a run to a five year old bowler.
It was not until three years later that Charles Darwin wrote about a game during his nine day visit to New Zealand on the HMS Beagle in the Bay of Islands.
The first officially recorded cricket match was in Wellington on December 28, 1843 played between two teams just named red and blue.
Henry Williams was born on February 11, 1792, to lace manufacturer Thomas and his wife Mary Marsh.
At 14, Henry went into the Royal Navy looking to become an officer, but it was harsh hard work and after 10 years seeing active service, he was discharged.
Despite trying a job as a drawing master he began to prepare to be a missionary.
He married Marianne Coldham on January 20, 1818.
Henry then offered his service to the Church Missionary Society and was ordained before leaving for New Zealand arriving in the Bay of Islands in 1823.
Their idea was to convert people, especially Māori, but Henry’s first job was to stop the trade for food and arms.
He also wanted to devote more time to spiritual teaching and wanted missionaries to learn Māori to better preach.
Henry also preached peace, negotiating in intertribal disputes.
Increasing numbers of Māori began to be baptised, Henry sent missionaries to other areas, greatly increasing the reach of the CMS.
He was trusted by different Māori so when the Treaty was to be signed he explained its provisions.
When race relations began to sour, he tried to negotiate peace but the conflict over land became more and more hostile leading to him being accused of betrayal by both times.
Henry himself had purchased land and the validity of his claim was challenged and he was forced to defend it, along with his personal integrity but CMS found him an embarrassment and he was dismissed.
He became Archdeacon of Waimate in 1844.
He died on July 16, 1867 and is buried in the grounds of Holy Trinity Church in Pakaraka.
Picture by Matthew McLennan.​

You’re on a walk through the bush in Wellington. You’ve seen a tūī, a kererū and can hear the song of other native birds.
You take a turn on the track and come face to face with a herd of the local wild alpaca.
It won’t happen now but there was a time when the Wellington Provincial Council intended for alpaca to roam the hills of Wellington.
Alpacas were introduced to New Zealand in the 19th century.
There was good evidence that alpacas could thrive here and there was a lot of talk about it. They were highly prized for their wool - however difficult to shear.
In 1863, there was notice that 15 were coming to Canterbury and in 1864 news that 12 were supposed to come to Wellington.
In the end, 10 were first imported in 1865 by the Wellington Provincial Government who bought them from Charles Ledger in Australia for 15 pounds each but they couldn’t make it work and suffered heavy financial loss because of it.
By the end of the year there were problems - the alpaca were suffering from something and there were several theories - including that they suffered from a form of leprosy, or was there something wrong with their teeth which could affect their ability to eat.
They ended up selling five of them to William Barnard Rhodes in 1869
They turned out to be easier to look at than to handle,
He said at shearing time they were “exceedingly troublesome” especially their spitting with which they displayed “considerable range and accuracy.”
That must have been a bit of a shock to shearers used to sheep.
The other five apparently went to Auckland but what happened to them no one seems to have recorded.
It was not for another 100 years that alpacas and llamas came into New Zealand to be farmed commercially.
Rhodes had been born on May 9, 1807, to William and Theodosia Maria in Epworth, Lincolnshire, England.
He came to New Zealand in 1839 and began acquiring land and at one point was called the richest man in the country.
Rhodes died on February 11, 1878 and is buried in Bolton St Cemetery.
Photo by Paul Summers.​

Charles Cameron is not now a name that anyone remembers as the European discoverer of one of the biggest passes in the South Island.
That’s because it’s called Haast Pass after Julius von Haast who was second to see it and got it named after him.
In January 1863, gold prospector Charles Cameron, exploring the area found the pass that had been known to Maori for some time.
It’s almost certain however that Cameron did not walk completely through the pass.
A month later Haast led a party in and ended up being the one the pass was named after. He disputed Cameron’s claim - but in 1881 Cameron’s powder flask - which he had lost on the trip, on Mt Cameron west of the pass, was found and inscribed on it was the date, so his claim was established - but by then the pass was named.
Charles Cameron had been born in Morven, Scotland to John and Janet Cameron on September 14, 1820.
When he was 20, he and the rest of his family came to New Zealand on the Blenheim on the last day of 1840.
There is no way he was the first person through the pass. Ngāi Tahu at the time knew about it. It was used to trade precious greenstone and food.
A map had been drawn for the explorer Edward Shortland in 1844. Others also came close but it was Cameron, while he was hunting for gold, who managed it, making him the first European.
It was only a few months later that Haast, who was Canterbury’s provincial geologist at the time, who took six weeks on foot to do it along with four others.
Haast of course did a geological survey of the area as he walked.
By 1880, there was a decent packhorse track but work on a road did not begin until 1929.
Cameron himself had married Catherine McKinnon in 1860 in Wellington and they had six children.
He lived mostly quietly except for a brush with the law in 1869 when a still was found on his Turakina property. There was no evidence linking him to the actual still, but he was still fined.
Up until his death, Cameron kept excellent health - and only a few days before he died had ridden into town for a sports day. He was ill when he got home so went to stay with his son-in-law and daughter where he died on February 12, 1909 in Fordell, Manawatū-Whanganui, New Zealand, at the age of 88, and was buried in Turakina Cemetery.
Photo from Te Papa’s collection.​

There have been some extraordinary scenes in Parliament lately, ripping up bills and a spontaneous haka.
It’s nothing new. Parliament is at least as much theatre as it is actual work.
The first physical fight in the House actually took place in the very first Parliament.
James Mackay was the politician representing the town of Nelson in 1853. He and William Travers were the only two candidates and so got into Parliament unopposed.
He was a supporter of the then acting governor Robert Wynyard who thought Parliament needed royal assent but when everyone else disagreed he tried to end the session and the rest of the house reacted by suspending its own standing orders.
Mackay tried to bypass this tactic and disrupted the house until Henry Sewell who became the first Premier and another tried to manhandle him out of the chamber leading to a scuffle.
In some newspapers the first session of parliament was seen as a total and most disgraceful failure.
Mackay was found guilty of gross and premeditated contempt of the House.
But many found that Sewell was the author of the violence.
An account of it appears in the New Zealander makes it clear Sewell started it. Mackey entered and went to pick up his umbrella and the chairman of the house requested him to take off his hat.
He tipped the hat to him then put it on again. He tried to hand over several papers but they were snatched from him.
“Mr. Sewell then rushed upon Mr. Mackay, laid hold of him by the back of the neck with his left hand, and struck him repeatedly in the ribs with the other. Mr. Hart, keeping a respectful distance, cried out Oh! Mr. Sewell! Mr. Sewell! Mr. Sewell ! Oil, do not! do not — Then Mr. Carleton ran up, laid hold of Mr. Mackay by the arms, and finally forced Mr. Sewell awav; but several other members continued to hustle Mr. Mackay. He broke loose from them, and, standing in the middle of the house, flourished his umbrella over head, and defied any of them to turn him out. The Chairman, at the top of his voice, endeavoured to restore order, but with no avail.”
Mackay had been born in 1804 in Aberdeen in Scotland to Alexander Mackie and his wife Elspet. He began his working life as a banker in London before coming to New Zealand in 1831 after marrying Ann Charles.
He became a farmer in Nelson and became increasingly involved in local affairs. But after his first - and only - term in Parliament he left politics.
HIs first wife died in 1860 and he remarried, to Ann Adney Shuckburgh. He spent his later years farming, and though still taking an active interest in local politics, he was reluctant to re-enter public office.[
In 1874 he fell from a loaded cart while working on his farm. The injury to his back grew into a tumour which eventually left him paralyzed. He died on May 29, 1875.
Mackay and his first wife were buried at St Andrew's Church in Wakapuaka. The church no longer exists, and the churchyard is now designated an historic site.​