 In the early hours of November 17, 1933, two shotgun blasts rang out at the Riccarton Racecourse Hotel.
Donald Fraser, the abrasive, violent and disliked manager who had been in a drunken sleep, was killed. Beside him, his wife Elizabeth was unharmed. The couple had managed the hotel for some time and often drank with patrons, even after hours at a time when it was supposed to be six o clock closing. This night was no different, the pair had been in the bar and Donald was apparently very drunk. They went up to bed about midnight. All Elizabeth could remember was at some stage the doorbell rang and that Donald got up. The next thing she knew was the shotgun blast. The police investigation was huge, with police travelling up and down the country interviewing people. The discovery of a footprint on the landing of the fire escape out the couple’s bedroom was thought to be a major clue. It was thought to be rubber soled shoes but turned out to be someone unrelated to the crime. Elizabeth was questioned but there was nothing to prove it could have been her. So police offered a £600 reward. Police did turn up that Donald has been having an affair with a Wellington woman Eileen Hardcastle. Elizabeth knew and had argued with him about it previously. She was also the beneficiary of his will, some £670. But in the end no one was charged and the inquest determined he had been murdered by someone unknown. Donald was buried at St Peter’s Anglican Churchyard in Christchurch where his headstone says "At Rest". Except that legend says he is not, with the hotel said to be haunted by Donald’s ghost who walks the halls looking for his murderer. Happy Halloween weekend everyone!
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 Today we fly thousands of miles in only hours but on August 25, 1920 the first plane crossing of Cook Strait was accomplished.
The crossing was considered wildly turbulent. It even interrupted the Parliamentary session due that day as people asked if the plane had landed. And it had. Captain Euan Dickson and his two passengers landed safely at an aerodrome at the Trentham Racecourse. Dickson went on to establish the first air mail service between the North and South Island. But it was hardly the most impressive flying feat in Dickson’s history, indeed, compared to his war record, it's usually considered nothing more than a footnote. Euan Dickson was born on March 31, 1892, to Thomas and Eveline Mary. In 1912 he emigrated to New Zealand and took up a job with an engineering firm in Thames. But with the advent of war he returned to England to serve in the Royal Navy Air Service and then the Air Force. Dickson flew 175 raids between May 1917 and August 1918 and won the Distinguished Flying Cross and bar for a raid on a Belgian aerodrome and railway station and for coming to another’s aid when, with all his ammunition gone, he charged 12 hostile enemy fighters to divert their attention. He is credited with shooting down 14 enemy aircraft. Captain Dickson was also awarded the French Crois de Guerre for his services during the German offensive from March to July 1918. After the war he returned to New Zealand and began work for the Canterbury Aviation Company where he hired one of the Avro 504K biplanes for the Cook Strait crossing. With him were the company’s deputy chairman C H Hewlett and mechanic J E Moore. He also took a mailbag, leaving from Sockburn at 7am. They refuelled in Kaikōura and after a cup of tea and a bit of cake they were on their way again, this time to Blenheim for lunch. As they flew over Wellington, their course took them right over the central city, and they could see people pouring out of the buildings to watch - including the suited figures from Parliament. They even flew over the plane of Auckland pilots George Bolt, Richard Russell and Vivian Walsh - who were in Wellington planning to attempt the Cook Strait crossing the very next day. The actual flight time was four hours and 57 minutes. Now it is routinely done in well under an hour. Captain Dickson died in Auckland on March 10, 1980 aged 87. He was cremated at Purewa Cemetery and his ashes scattered.  The workers digging in the Remutaka rail tunnel heard the loud roar about 11.30am on September 9, 1952.
They thought it was an earthquake. A horror situation to those working underground. The team in the tunnel were creating a new rail link between Upper Hutt and Featherston for a shorter quicker route. At nearly 9km it was the longest tunnel in New Zealand until the opening of the Kaimai tunnel. Work had started in 1948 with mostly single men living in huts at either end. Among them was Athanassios Athanassiades, a 20-year-old Greek man. Inside the tunnel, earth and rocks were falling and men were scrambling to get out of the way. When the roaring died down, 27 men were trapped behind the rock fall. A rescue party was quickly organised, to try to dig down to the men through the slip and by late afternoon a communication pipe was put through. The trapped men sat on an electric locomotive with its dim light going and waited, two of the married men sharing out their lunch all around. Twenty six of the men were fine. But one, Athanassiades, had been completely engulfed in earth and was seriously injured. The others tried hard to reach him but every time they tried, more earth fell. It took nine hours for the rescuers to reach the men who were brought out one by one. The married men were met by their anxious wives who had been waiting for them for hours. Then the rescuers began scraping away the rocks and earth to reach Athanassiades. They managed to get to him, finding he was lying beneath a truck. They had to dig a shaft down to him carefully to prevent further falls. Doctor Denys Higenbotham went into the tunnel early the next day to talk to Athanassiades who had crushed ankles and was in shock. The diggers managed to get a pipe to him, to give him soup and tea but he vomited, unable to keep it down. They told him they would be with him soon but he said he did not think they would make it. The men worked furiously, in shifts of 10-15 minutes to dig as hard as they could before another took over. When they finally reached him they found him in an almost impossible position, trapped almost on his head, with his legs held above his head. They had to begin cutting him out of the wood and timbers that covered him. Then he was taken out using the electric locomotive. He had been trapped for 10 hours and 35 minutes. Outside he was met by his younger brother Nicolaos who had only started work on the site that week. Athanassios Athanassiades was put in an ambulance and rushed to hospital but died later that night. It was in 1954 that the two ends of the tunnel finally met and it was officially opened in 1955. Athanassios Athanassiades is buried in Karori Cemetery.  An extraordinary little tale played out in Wellington’s Magistrate Court in 1915 of a hat-pin stabbing and the young woman who had done it.
It came on the back of hat-pin hysteria. Hat-pins were regarded as lethal weapons and some council’s even went so far as to have by-laws about them. The two main players were a 17-year-old girl Marjorie - usually called Madge - Cardno and a hotel porter called George Clark. She was charged with putting a hat-pin through his chest - twice. On October 7 at the Hotel Cecil, Clark saw Majorie outside the hotel about 7.30pm. Majorie said she went to the hotel to meet a young man she had been seeing. When he wasn’t there, she saw Clark who greeted her. She said she was hot, having hurried to meet her young man and Clark offered her a drink. She thought he would offer her a soft drink. He told her there was a sitting room she could wait in, but it turned out to be a bedroom. She protested but he told her to sit on the bed and bought her a drink of porter which she said she did not want and he then brought her a small bottle of beer. She asked him if she could have a needle and thread to fix a buckle on her gaiter - a covering usually worn over a shoe in bad weather. She drank a little of the beer and Clark returned with the sewing equipment but also a revolver. Marjorie told him she was scared of it and he put it away before producing a black case that had a syringe in it. The next moment Clark put his arm around her waist and attempted to kiss her, pushing her down on the bed. He pushed one of her hands above her head, near her hat. Marjorie struggled and called out, to no avail. He said he couldn’t and wouldn’t wait and began to pull at her clothes. Marjorie wasn’t having it though. She pulled the hat-pin from her hat and stabbed him. She got to the door but found it locked. Even then, bleeding profusely, Clark tried to keep her in the room but eventually gave up the key. Clark’s side of the story made her look bloodthirsty saying he took her to his bedroom and got her a drink. A few minutes later she stabbed him. He denied he had done anything. He was taken to hospital and Majorie was arrested, covered in blood. The case never even made it to a jury - Magistrate Daniel George Arthur Cooper immediately decided no jury would believe Clark’s account and discharged Marjorie who had been dubbed the hat-pin heroine by the newspapers. Despite the case making headlines, almost nothing is known about either of them from there. So for completeness, the magistrate who dismissed the case was Daniel Cooper who presided in Wellington courts for many years as well as being a top ranked footballer. He died on June 26, 1935 and was cremated at Karori Cemetery.  Was Mary Griffin running a whorehouse in the middle of wartime Wellington or was she just a modern social woman?
The trial that came to be called the Kelburn raid was a sensation, dragging in wartime regulations, women’s rights and societal shift, all centred around one woman. On April 27, 1918, police stormed 48 Upland Road in Kelburn. Inside were seven women and ten men, most of them military officers. Five of the women, including Mary “Molly” Griffin, were charged under Additional War Regulations of 1916 with keeping a house of ill repute. The women - far from being ‘loose women’ - were considered respectable. But they were also divorced or unmarried, and in a scared society changing too quickly for some, they were also feared, partly for their independence. They were Molly Adelia Griffin (nee McCarthy), Winifred Olsen, 19-year-old Marion Elliott, and her sister Alma and Eileen Pringle, a teacher at Brooklyn School The men on the premises were not charged, a fact that led to a lot of comment. The court was crowded, mainly with women, representing the society for the protection of women and children. Police had been watching the house, which Molly rented. She lived there after divorcing her cheating husband (Robert) along with her two children and Winifred. Neighbours had complained about the activities of the house and two constables began to watch the house at night. Complaints were about the loud noises and supposed drinking. Molly was aware the house was being watched. She had spotted one of the constables earlier that month. Nothing changed and on the evening of the raid, the women said they were having a musical evening. At the trial, evidence of sex taking place was based on the observations of the constables, who had seen three people, including Molly, in one bed - called acts of immorality in court. To combat that, Marion consented to be examined by doctors and declared to be in a “state of virginity.” But the police evidence was tainted by several things, including the dark nights, how much could actually be seen and in particular - whether any money had changed hands. Molly and Winifred were found guilty while the lack of evidence against Marion, Alma and Eileen saw the charges dismissed. Molly and Winifred were sentenced to 12 months' reformative treatment. For a month Molly and Winifred were jailed until their appeal was upheld in the Supreme Court by Justice John Henry Hosking who concluded there needed to be evidence of sex for hire for any convictions. The women then went their separate ways. Alma and Marian went on to marry, Eileen left New Zealand as did Winnie who married in Sydney. Mary stayed in New Zealand, not coming to anyone’s attention again before she died on January 8, 1949. She is buried in Karori Cemetery with her daughter Mary Gertrude, although her name is spelled Griffen.  Gasps of shock ran through the Blenheim Supreme Court as the skull of murdered man James Flood was held up in court.
The horrific murder of Flood by a man wielding an axe had already created sensational headlines as did the sudden production of Flood’s actual skull. The axe was also an exhibit in a packed courtroom. Pathologist Philip Lynch - we’ve written about one of New Zealand’s premier pathologists before - was giving evidence at the trial of Walter Edward Tarrant, accused of killing Flood, when he brought out the skull. Tarrant, 60, had been born in Australia in 1874, coming to New Zealand in 1908 from Tasmania and by 1931 he was living in Picton with his wife Eugenie Anne and his children. The Great Depression had not been kind to Tarrant. He had tried his hand at a number of jobs, but now as a wood merchant, was in great financial trouble. He had been sued several times, been charged with forging a cheque and was behind in his rent. James Flood lived in Picton in Canterbury Street. At 76, he was a retired bachelor who had spent his life farming with his brothers (Joseph and Jerome) and had considerable savings. He was known to keep large amounts of money about him, about £1000 - going so far as to have a custom made pocket attached to his coat for his wallet. On November 3, 1931 a search was made for Flood who hadn’t been seen for several days. His body was found in front of his fireplace with significant head injuries. About the same time Tarrant began spending money that he had not had before. He started paying off his rent and began making purchases with £20 and £10 notes - big notes for the day. It drew people’s interest so in a pre-emptive strike, Tarrant went to the police and claimed initially he had saved some money - then that he had found it. He was arrested and brought before the Supreme Court for trial. Dr Lynch told the jury Flood had been hit on the back of the head with the axe and had fallen. He was then struck twice more, with blows so heavy they severed his spinal column and nearly his head. Tarrant was found guilty and made an appeal which failed. An appeal to the Governor General for a new trial was denied. He was hanged on March 6, 1933, at Wellington’s Mt Crawford Prison and buried in an unmarked grave in Karori Cemetery. His final word when asked if he had anything to say was “Nothing”. James Flood was buried in Picton Cemetery but bizarrely without his skull which is still in the storage at the University of Otago. Picture by Tyler Lastovich.  Horatio Ramsden was a quiet young man who lived with his mother and younger brother. He’d never caused any trouble in his whole life.
So when he was stabbed to death, only 18 months after Fanny Marshall, it was a massive shock. Horatio Heyward Frecherville Ramdsden had been born in New South Wales in 1890 and with father James and mother Mary came to New Zealand when he was a child. In 1904 he went to Canada for three years with his mother and younger brother William but after three years returned to live in Auckland. In 1915 he joined the Waterside Workers union. About 9pm on January 22, Horatio’s body was found on the western slope of Mount Eden. He had left home that day about 6pm telling his mother he was going to meet someone although he never told her who. Only three hours later he was found dying in a group of caster oil trees with 11 stab wounds. He had yelled for help and another young man, Charles Nicholls, hearing him from a nearby house, ran out toward the noise. He was in time to find Horatio and to see someone running away. The suggestion was Horatio was going to meet a man who was to introduce him to a young woman. His killer was never found. It didn’t take long for the police and newspapers to link it to the stabbing of Fanny Marshall. The similarities were eerie. Horatio lived in Nelson Street, where Fanny was killed. Like her, Horatio had a head wound and stab wounds. While Fanny had over 25, Horatio had 11. But Horatio had fought, he had deep defensive wounds to his hands as well as a stab wound to the heart. Like Fanny he wasn’t robbed, none of his pockets had been disturbed. Did Auckland have a budding serial killer? If it did, it appears to have ended with Horatio. A search of newspapers for a few years on either side of the incidents don’t reveal similar crimes. Horatio is buried in Waikumete Cemetery and his headstone says it all. Vengeance is mine saieth the Lord Photo by Hassan Rafhaan.  When 43-year-old Fanny Marshall’s body was found by a little girl, she was still wearing her little blue hat. She had been stabbed multiple times with a pocket knife and left where she died, by a vacant section off Nelson St, Auckland.
Her husband Frederick Marshall had been waiting for her to come home on September 28, 1914. He had been out that evening and Frances - called Fanny - was not home when he got back. He waited for her all night, anxious but thought she was with a friend. The next morning he went to see about a job at a nearby pub. He was on his way home that evening when he was told Fanny had been murdered. He rushed to the Newton police station and then to the morgue. While the police would normally look at the husband first, the police accepted he had been nowhere near the crime. Fanny’s skull had been fractured, her throat cut and she had been stabbed to the heart and lungs. There were 25 stab wounds. Why she was killed is just as much a mystery as who. It wasn’t to rob her, she was still wearing her wedding ring and five shillings was found beside her and Frederick said she usually had four or five shillings with her. At the inquest - which back then had a jury - the suggestion was made that Fanny was working as a prostitute but Frederick denied it. He admitted he had hit her once or twice but said that hadn’t happened for a long time and their marriage was good. Fanny had been at a friend’s home, Mary Ann Whitworth, and had left about 9.45pm. Fanny had said she was going straight home. She stopped once, at the shop of Henrietta Jones on Hobson Street and bought some cigarettes. At about 10pm a man and woman were seen by Nelson Street by a youth and another woman saw Fanny about the same time alone. One witness, Peter Erikson, claimed he had met Fanny before - for “immoral purposes”. The jury delivered an open verdict - death by murder by persons unknown. To this day, no one has been charged with Fanny’s murder. Frances Elizabeth Jenkins had married Frederick Charles Marshall in England in 1894 before they came to New Zealand. Fanny is buried in Waikumete Cemetery. The mystery of the Joyita has never been definitively solved. And there are many, many theories.
The merchant ship Joyita was found adrift in November 1955, five weeks after she sailed from Apia heading for the Tokelau Islands, a trip that was supposed to take a couple of days. There had been 25 passengers and crew on board. Now there was no one and nothing to indicate exactly what happened. Originally a luxury yacht, the Joyita had been taken by the American Navy after Pearl Harbour and pressed into service. In 1948, she was sold and refitted, ending up in the hands of Katherine Luomala, a professor at the University of Hawaii who chartered it to Captain Thomas H “Dusty” Miller. Miller was the captain on October 3, 1955, when the ship left Apia. On board were Charles Simpson, Tekokaa Teweeka, Aberaam Tanini, Henry McCarthy, Penaia Pedro, Ihaia Kitiona Faraimo, Tagifano Lepaio, Haipele Himona, Ioakimi Apete, Himeti Mohe, Tuhaga Elekana, Leota Kolo, Mohe Peleti, James Wallwork and George Williams as crew. The passengers were Dr Alfred Dennis Parsons, from Auckland, who was on his way to perform an amputation, husband and wife Takama and Tokelau Lapana, their adopted son and daughter, Founuku Talama and Noama Faiva, radio operator Joseph Pereira, Tomoniko Teofila and New Zealanders Herbert Thomas Hodgkinson and Roger Pearless. The ship was declared over due but it wasn’t until November 10 that another merchant ship found her, 970km west of her last known location. No distress signal had ever been received. It was partially submerged and drifting. The ship had some damage, the radio was turned to the frequency of the international distress channel, the dinghy and lifeboats were gone, the starboard engine was covered in mattresses and the port side engine’s clutch was partially dismantled, a pump had been rigged but not connected, the clocks had stopped at 10.25 and the logbook was missing. A doctor's bag - likely Parsons’ - was found with blood stained bandages in it. An inquiry found the boat was in poor repair, a pipe in the cooling system had failed, and water would have been flooding the lower decks. Theories have been put forward, including that Japanese forces still active in the Pacific were to blame, or that they were kidnapped by a Soviet submarine, that pirates attacked, that it was insurance fraud, or a mutiny. To this day it's speculation. The Joyita was sold, refitted and overhauled but in 1957 ran aground then was put to sea again after being fixed. She ran aground again in 1959 and gained the reputation as unlucky. She was beached until sold as a tourist attraction but it never happened. Bit by bit the beached boat was stripped away. A walkway in Auckland was named after Parsons near his former home. A grave stone in Motueka Cemetery memorialises Roger “Pete” Pearless. |
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