 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.
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 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.  How did a kind man go from being a respected businessman to a mass murderer in just a few months?
Those who worked for James Reid Baxter thought him a kind man, a well-off floristry businessman who worked hard. But in the middle of the night on April 7, 1907, Baxter went on a killing spree. It was only with hindsight that a number of things were shown to have led to his insanity. Baxter was born in Banffshire, Scotland on April 6, 1864, to Thomas and Matilda. He worked as a seed and corn merchant and married Elizabeth Markham in England in 1894. The first three of their five children were born there before the couple brought their growing family to New Zealand. They moved to Invercargill where Baxter set up a small floristry business. It made sense, he had worked with plants and seeds his whole life. No one predicted what was to come, but there were warnings. In the few months before the tragedy, Baxter became sick, first with influenza then cholera, then he slipped on a rock and sustained a head injury which he never got treated. He began to complain about head pain, sometimes refused to get out of bed or work. A close friend of the family later said he stole a bottle of laudanum (a strong opioid) from her. On April 3, 1907 Baxter suddenly bought a rifle then exchanged it on April 6 for a shotgun. The next day the family went to bed as normal. Sons Basil, 9, and Roy, 4, shared a front bedroom while 11-year-old Phyllis shared hers with two year old Ronald. Baxter, Elizabeth and six-week-old baby John were in the main bedroom. While they all slept, Baxter got up again and got an iron stove scraper. He went to each bedroom and smashed it into the head of every member of his family. Baxter then got the gun, locked himself in the bathroom, filled the bathtub and shot himself. His watch, in his vest, stopped at 2.50am. The next morning about 10.45am next door neighbour and friend Archibald McLean went looking for the family and, on peering through the window, realised he could see bodies. With a police officer, they broke into the house. Basil, Ronald and Roy died in their beds. Elizabeth, Phyllis and John were, extraordinarily, still alive. But despite help, Elizabeth died three days later, and John a couple of days later. Phyllis lived for about three weeks partly paralysed but died on April 22. A coroner's jury found Baxter suffered from temporary insanity. The whole family is buried in the Eastern cemetery in Invercargill. There was no funeral, and the grave was initially unmarked. However a headstone now lists all the victims first and Baxter’s name last. Photo from Te Papa's collection.  David Russell was one of the bravest men to ever fight for New Zealand and he is barely remembered.
It was only after his extraordinary bravery and death that he was recognised with the George Cross - for acts of heroism in the face of extreme danger- because David was shot as a spy by German Forces during the Second World War. David was born March 30, 1911, in Ayr, Scotland to James and Jessie Russell. He headed for Australia with his elder brother. And for years he lived on the swag, moving from place to place and turning his hand to anything. He and a mate heard of great opportunities in New Zealand and came to Wellington, immediately hopping the train to Napier where David began work at the Napier Hospital as an orderly. He wasn’t there long, war broke out and 11 days after it did in 1939, David had enlisted (after a brief standdown to get some varicose veins dealt with). In May 1940 he was shipped out and after a training stop in Scotland was sent to Egypt. He served through campaigns in Greece and Crete, saving a buddy’s life during a retreat when his mate was weakened by dysentery. He refused to leave him, carrying and dragging him to safety. He served at the New Zealand School of Instruction in Egypt and was promoted to Lance Corporal. David was taken prisoner in 1942 and transferred to a camp in Italy. He escaped in 1943 and began moving about, helping others get away. In 1944 he contacted a British team and could have left. Instead he chose to return to find and assist other escaped prisoners. He was a master of eluding patrols, often riding away on a bicycle. With Arch Scott - another Kiwi - he began working on a plan to organise escapes but ended up captured again before yet another daring escape. It wasn’t long before he was again taken prisoner, and this time taken to the German commander in the area, Oberleutenant Haupt, who believed him a spy and resistor. Haupt brutally beat David for information, chained him to a wall in a stable, beat him again, left him without food or water and even brought in people to persuade him to talk. He said he would not tell them and let them shoot me. He never did talk. It was likely David knew the names of many involved in plans to help prisoners, including the locals who were helping him. On February 28, 1945, they took him to the garden, let him have a cigarette before he stood rigidly to attention and they shot him. He was the first New Zealander (he served with our forces) to be awarded - posthumously - the George Cross. The locals took the body and buried him at the Ponte de Piave cemetery. Much later a memorial was put up for him. In 1949, Napier hospital named a ward after him and a plaque for many years was on the wall. When the hospital closed it was stored but has now been restored and put up in a special area for the history of the hospital service in HB at the chapel at the hospital in Hastings. The chapel is currently closed to the public. His George Cross had been at the Waiouru War memorial and was among a group stolen in 2007. It was recovered months later with many others. In 1950 , David was exhumed and his body reburied at the Imperial War Graves cemetery in Udine, Italy.  There is a great deal of talk these days about freedom of speech. It’s generally held that we have freedom of speech - but that we don’t have freedom from its consequences.
And it's nothing new. Do you speak out against what you see as wrong? Or do you say nothing? It’s worse during times of crisis like wars. In wartime censorship applied even to personal letters and there were a great many things never published even in newspapers. In 1914 the War Regulations Act was passed. The wide reaching legislation included the suppression of the seditious activity which could be anything injurious to public safety. This could be almost anything depending on how it was seen. And it was an imprisonable offence. By the end of the First World War there were 102 successful prosecutions, 67 people were jailed, 29 filed and eight convicted and discharged. One often mentioned, as a way to illustrate how over the top the prosecutions were, was a 70-year-old woman called Ellen Fuller. But who she was is missing. She was born Elen Brigitte Larson on July 20, 1847, Oslo, Oslo Fylke, Norway, to Lars Hansen and Johanne Elisabeth Olsdatter. Elen had a brother and sister. In 1872, Elen had a child out of wedlock to Otto Christian Smith - a sea captain. At the time she was 25 and working as the domestic servant of Nils and Ragnild Gundersen. They fostered the child, a boy called Otto. Meanwhile Elen boarded the Albion in 1876 as a single woman and came to Australia. In Melbourne she met Walter Fuller (who had come to Australia from England). They married in 1878 in Melbourne before eventually coming to New Zealand. Walter was a printer by trade and worked for the Government Printing Office. For years they went about their lives until Ellen - as she was now called - came to the attention of the authorities in 1916 for what called seditious utterings at the Palmerston North Railway Station, saying the Kaiser was her lord and master and insulting the King. She was charged, and when she did not turn up in court was given a sentence of two months hard labour - jail. It turned out Wellington police had failed to serve the court summons on her in time for her to go to court. Ellen denied the charges and when she did make it to court her lawyer argued the words did not breach the War Regulation Act. A rehearing was granted but with the same result and an appeal to reduce the sentence because of her age and mental capacity was rejected. In reality Ellen had become a slightly senile, bad tempered, eccentric old woman who shouted a lot. It had gotten so bad she had been separated from Walter for some time. Only a few years later in 1919 Ellen died on February 17. Her son, who at first used the last name Gundersen, but later reverted to Smith, also came to New Zealand and raised a huge family. Walter outlived Ellen and despite being separated for many years, they are buried together at Karori Cemetery.  New Zealand has some of the strangest creatures on earth. From flightless birds to the prehistoric looking weta.
And one of the freakiest is the giant carnivorous snail. Considered endangered, it’s unlikely they get noticed. To a nation of gardeners, snails are the enemy, but these native wonders aren’t eating your cabbages. They’re eating your earthworms, sucking them up like strands of spaghetti. There are 16 species and 57 subspecies. A small colony even lives in the Wellington suburb of Khandallah. Reaching up to 9cm, they are considerably bigger than the average snail and can live to the 20-year mark. Legally protected but not cute or quirky like other endangered NZ species, their conservation has been haphazard. The Powelliphanta genus of snails is named for the New Zealand scientist Arthur William Baden Powell, born on April 4, 1901 in Wellington, to Arthur Powell and Minne Sablofski. Powell was educated in Auckland. After a printing apprenticeship and being a commercial artist, he became absorbed by shells, beginning his lifelong passion of conchology. By age 20, he had published his first paper on mollusca and by 29 was appointed to the Auckland War Memorial Museum as conchologist and palaeontologist. Snails were a specialty, including giant flax snails and the tiny rissoid sea snails. He used his art to good effect, with beautiful illustrations. During his trip on the British research ship Discovery II around the Northland coast he revealed 128 new species in 1937 and in 1940 another 66. He also conducted studies at Stewart Island, the Chathams and the Kermadecs. Over his lifetime he named hundreds of species (over 800) and created exhibitions for the museum. He received an honorary science doctorate and only six years before he died was made a Commander of the Order of the British Empire for services to marine science. He married Isabel Essie Gittos on December 19, 1928 and they had a son. She died in 1976. He remarried two years later, Ida Madoline Worthy. Powell died on July 1, 1987 and was cremated and his remains interred at Purewa Cemetery. Photo of snail from the Te Papa collection.  When Queen Elizabeth II bit into the red apple, it was immediately clear she liked it. She asked for more.
The apple was a variant of the most famous New Zealand apple ever and that moment with Her Majesty gave it its name. Royal Gala. While it was missionary Samuel Marsden who bought and planted the first apple trees in the country, it was James Hutton Kidd who is directly responsible for the variety of apples we know and love today. Born on September 12, 1877, in Northumberland, England to James and Harriet, the family emigrated to New Zealand when he was a child, starting out in Christchurch before heading to Whanganui. Known as Hutton (rather than James) he trained in horticultural work before becoming interested in orcharding. He and his brother Wilfred set up small orchards. In 1906 he moved to Greytown, initially buying a five-acre-block before expanding it into 20 acres and in 1916 married Ethel Laura (Lola) Gilbert. They had no children. He began experimenting with new techniques in growing apples and advocated research into disease prevention - supporting the establishment of the then DSIR Plant Diseases Division. But what was to make him iconic was the recognition of the need for new varieties of apple. Unsatisfied with the flavour of new varieties on the market - mainly from America, he began a breeding programme. He kept diligent records and had success with a cross pollination of Delicious with Cox’s Orange Pippin. Called Delco, he sold the propagation rights to a nursery. But the apple that would become synonymous with his name came after his death. Before he died he transferred seedings from his apple-breeding programme to the DSIR to be evaluated. By 1950 there were a couple of varieties viable but one stood out. It was sent for trials in Havelock North and was declared outstanding. The Gala. It was released on to the market in the 1960’s and quickly became one of the world’s most popular apples. Its red variant is the one we know as the Royal Gala today, given the name after its approval by Queen Elizabeth II. Kidd died October 12, 1945 and is buried in Greytown Cemetery. With great sadness for a great woman. RIP Your Majesty.  On many graves in many cemeteries are the names of those who served but who are not lying peacefully in that grave.
So many families added the names of their loved ones to a headstone when there was no place for them to visit in a war torn world. Some were found and later interred in war graveyards overseas. But sometimes not only are their bodies missing - but also exactly what happened. In a quiet part of Karori Cemetery is the headstone to George Ludwig Boeson, an engineer from Petone who was a member of the reserves in World War One. George worked at the Gear meatworks - one of the largest employers in the area. He was married to Vinola (nee Edwards). Also on his headstone is his son, Jack Ludwig Boeson, who is listed as missing from air operations in World War Two. In fact, there are three other kiwi airmen missing with Jack - whose names are barely remembered - if only because of the mystery of what happened to them. They were Warrant Officer Jack Ludwig Boeson, 26, of Wellington, Flight Sergeant Alister Bain Pinching, 26 - married to Olga - from Gisborne, Flight Sergeant Cyril Laurie Corbett, 24, from Lower Hutt who left a twin and his wife Jean and Flight Sergeant Anthony Victor Peter Madsen, about 23 from Palmerston North. All four were members of the 4th Squadron stationed in Nausori, Fiji during World War Two. On January 2, 1944 they took off in their Hudson 111A aircraft on an anti-submarine patrol. After a routine wireless test they were never heard from again although another patrol saw them and believed they were on the right course. A search found nothing. They are remembered now on the Bourail Memorial in New Caledonia. And Jack, Alister and Anthony on the headstones of their parents. Normally we finish with a grave, and we have a picture of George’s. But for Jack, Alister, Cyril and Anthony, where they lie is unknown. Wherever that is, RIP. |
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