No one watching William Henry Broome walk the streets of New Plymouth - exceedingly dapper in his three piece suits and hat - would think he was the inventor of one of New Zealand’s most iconic pieces of rugged clothing.
Broome was born in Leek, Staffordshire, England on September 30, 1873, the fifth child of Joseph Broome, a shoe manufacturer, and his wife, Elizabeth James. His father died when he was only a few months old. At the age of 21, William came to New Zealand. A tailor and clothier, he set up his shop, a clothier and outfitters called The Palatine on Devon Street, New Plymouth. On 12 June 1902, in New Plymouth, he married Maud Margaret Freeth; they went on to have four children before Maud died in November 1909. Then Broome met Ivy Ruth Hooker, a tailoress and married her in 1915. They had three children. William was always dressed to the nines, showing off his goods but his interests extended well beyond high fashion. He knew a good many of the men of New Zealand worked on the land, often in rugged conditions and he undertook to create a work shirt. William designed a (then) short-sleeved, long in the back woollen overshirt with a laced front, creating it for New Zealand conditions. He immersed it in a special - and still secret - waterproofing formula. He patented his invention in 1913 and also created the now famous Swanndri logo - a swan in a circle. The shirts were initially manufactured at the Bruce Woollen Mill in Milton, Southland, but the water proofing was done at William’s home in Doralto Road. A side effect of the waterproofing was that the shirts were sometimes imperfect in size, so William decided to sell them as one size fits all. He began selling them from his shop. He would set up a shop’s dummy wearing one then turn the hose on it to prove it was waterproof. They became, with the outdoor lifestyle of New Zealand, a huge hit. It became well known for its warmth and waterproof properties. In 1935 he went into business with C W Lynch to establish a men’s outfitting store, Broome and Lynch on the corner of Liardet and Devon St. William was also an active member of his community, playing tennis, cricket, bowls and golf. He sang in a male choir and a member of the New Plymouth Operatic Society. He died on June 8, 1943. His son Brian took over the Swanndri label and licensed it to tailor John McKendrick who added a hood and long sleeves and created the original olive green colour. His firm, Jack Mack Limited, began to produce the shirts and paid royalties to the Broome family. The trademark was later sold to Alliance Textiles who now manufacture the iconic shirt. Broome is buried at Te Henui Cemetery in New Plymouth.
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Pilot and farmer Hamish Armstrong took off from the small coastal town of Akitio in the Tararua district about 9.45am on July 21, 1935 and was never seen again.
One of the first owners of a private plane in New Zealand, he was considered an experienced pilot and was flying his silver and green de Havilland Gipsy Moth, which he had done many times before. Armstrong was a beef and sheep farmer. His family had lived and worked the land at Akitio for years. He had bought the Moth in Britain where he learned to fly in 1929. Back in New Zealand he flew frequently and was known to transport farm supplies. It would have been efficient at a time when vehicles would have taken many hours. Armstrong was headed for Hastings. It was a trip he had made many times before. But that day he had been advised to put the trip off as the weather wasn’t good. Armstrong, however, had not told the Hastings aerodrome he was coming and it was not until dark that his mother raised the alarm. Search parties were put up, both in planes and on foot. Searchers in 20 planes took to the air over the next 15 days and trampers went over land from Woodville to Waikaremoana, looking through the Ruahines as well as the Kawekas and Urewas and along the coast - thousands of miles. Ongaonga residents heard a plane pass overhead about 11am then shortly after a plane was heard over a timber mill near a river. But both times it was above the clouds and could not be seen. A young man hunting near Ongaonga came forward to say he had seen a plane circling. He lost sight of it then heard an odd sound. Then silence. On August 5, three trampers found the plane in the Ruahine Range near Wakarara. The plane was under snow and about 100 ft below a ridge. One end of the propeller was bent and one wing badly crumpled. And there was no sign of Armstrong. His suitcase with his clothes - including a shirt with the brand name Triple X - and shoes in it was taken from the wreckage along with his glasses that he needed to see. It appeared Armstrong managed to land the plane relatively intact and could have walked away. At the inquest a flying officer from the RAF said the plane had been kept in good order, It was thought Armstrong had made a forced stall landing, likely without any fuel. On landing the plane had nose dived into the hillside. It was noted that at the time there were no regulations requiring a pilot to carry any form of signalling, like a flare. The plane was recovered and donated by the family to the Wairarapa and Ruahine aero club. Of course there is no grave for Armstrong - but his name lives on with the Triplex Hut named after the shirt and Armstrong Saddle near where the plane was found. Sarah Fogo feared her husband’s drinking and violent temper would lead him to murder her so after more than 30 years of marriage she did the only thing she felt she could – she killed him.
Outwardly, Thomas Telfer Fogo was a respected member of Dunedin’s society, a member of the Caledonian Club, a sought-after painter and a good family man. But behind closed doors, Fogo was a man with an alcohol problem and a violent temper, which was usually directed at Sarah and their adult daughter Georgina. Thomas was born in Edinburgh, Scotland in 1835 to Robert Fogo and Mary Telfer. He arrived in New Zealand in 1861 and after trying his hand at gold mining on the West Coast, settled in Dunedin where he went into the boot-making trade alongside his brother John. He married Sarah Muir in 1868. For 32 years the couple lived an outwardly happy life, raising two children. But Fogo’s drinking was slowly destroying their marriage and fraying Sarah’s nerves. When, on September 29, 1900, Thomas awoke from a night of drinking gin and demanded Sarah get him another drink, she had reached the end of her patience. She refused. Her response infuriated him. He picked up a knife and threatened to cut her throat. He then moved to lock the bedroom door and as he did so, she hit him over the back of the head with a walking stick. Sarah then walked downstairs to the kitchen, selected a long-bladed, cook’s knife and returned to their bedroom. She locked the door and then stabbed him through the chest killing him almost instantly. When the doctor arrived, Sarah said: “I have done it. I did it in self-defence. Had I not done it, I would have been a corpse myself.” She was charged with her husband’s murder. Fogo was buried in Dunedin’s Northern Cemetery on October 1, 1900. At the inquest, held on October 3, Sarah’s lawyer JR Thornton persuaded the coroner to close the hearing to the public and the media. The move left some newspaper editors furious and members of the public to wait for Sarah’s trial for murder to find out what had happened. It was not a long wait. The trial began on November 30 and Thornton took great pains to illustrate that Fogo was quarrelsome when in drink, occasionally violent, irritable when recovering from a drinking bout and a morose and selfish man. Evidence showed Fogo had recently assaulted Sarah and thrown both her and Georgina out of the house. Despite the efforts of Mr Thornton to outline the awful situation Sarah was in, the jury, on December 1, 1900, found her guilty of Fogo’s murder. The Government later commuted the inevitable death sentence to life in prison. Sarah served six years of her life sentence and was released from prison on November 24, 1906. She died on April 28, 1911 at the age of 74, and, unusually, is buried in the same plot as the husband she murdered. Picture: Otago Witness October 3, 1900, pg 45. Ettie Rout was so far ahead of her time, she routinely got into trouble for it and was even shunned.
Cyclist, vegetarian and free thinker, Ettie was tall, fit and blessed with that superabundance of energy that sometimes makes the rest of us tired just thinking about it. But it’s because of women like Ettie that New Zealand has made huge strides in areas of sexual health. Ettie was born February 24, 1877, in Tasmania to William John Rout and his wife Catherine Frances Mckay (along with her twin sister Nellie). The family came to New Zealand in 1884, initially settling in Wellington. In 1896 they moved to Christchurch, where Ettie completed her education, and became a government-appointed shorthand writer, working in the Supreme Court, on official inquiries and writing for the Lyttelton Times newspaper. For that era she was considered odd. She did not wear a corset and was often seen wearing short skirts, men's boots, and sometimes trousers. A committed socialist, she helped establish the Maoriland Worker, a left-wing newspaper. In July 1915, Ettie set up the New Zealand Volunteer Sisterhood, inviting women aged between 30-50 to go to Egypt to care for New Zealand soldiers. The first group went in October that year despite Government opposition. Ettie herself arrived in Egypt early the next year and was immediately struck by the staggering high numbers of cases of venereal disease in the soldiers. Being the progressive she was, Ettie saw this as a medical problem, not a moral one. She wanted prophylactic kits issued to soldiers and to go even further, to set up established brothels that could be inspected. The New Zealand Medical Corps wanted no part of it. So Ettie, never one to be put off, started the Tel El Kebir Soldiers’ Club and then a canteen to provide rest and recreation facilities. It got her mentioned in dispatches. A year later, with venereal disease still rampant, she tackled it head on going to London to push the Medical Corps. Using several researchers she produced her own kit, containing calomel ointment, condoms and Condy’s crystals and sold them herself near the New Zealand Convalescent Hospital. By the end of 1917 the kits were adopted by the New Zealand Expeditionary Force and given free to soldiers going on leave. Ettie however received no credit. In fact the Cabinet banned any mention of her in New Zealand newspapers under the War Regulations, breaching it earning them a fine of £100. When the New Zealand Times published a letter from her suggesting the use of the kits, it led to a decision by Defence Minister James Allen to approve the kits. Meanwhile, groups, often women’s groups, accused her of trying to make vice safe. In 1918 she moved to Paris where she would meet the trains, handing out kits and cards telling them the way to a safe brothel she had helped set up with French venerealogist Dr Jean Tissot called her the guardian angel of the ANZACs. The French attitude to her was very different - the French decorated her with the Reconnaissance Française Medal, their highest civilian honour. Ettie moved to London in 1920 where she married her longtime companion Frederick Hornibrook, a physiotherapist There she wrote books on safe sex as well as a vegetarian cookbook. After a return visit to New Zealand, Ettie died of an overdose of quinine in Rarotonga in 1936. She is buried in the London Missionary Society church yard in Avarua. While she received little recognition during her life, she has since been seen as the campaigner she was. Christchurch's AIDs clinic is named after her. It probably can’t be said better than in her own words - in a letter to her good friend, famous writer H G Wells, she said “It's a mixed blessing to be born too soon.” The Waimangu geyser tragedy.
In the years up to 1904, every five to six hours a spectacular geyser erupted in the Waimangu Valley near Rotorua. For a time the Waimangu geyser was considered the most powerful in the world, sending up a massive stream of black water, mud and rocks up to 460 metres into the air. Tourists came from around New Zealand to see it and it gained worldwide attention. Believed to have been created after the eruption of Mount Tarawera, it got its name from local Maori - Waimangu - meaning black waters. For a while, trips were made to see it erupt. But a tragedy in 1903, which killed four people, put a stop to the excitement. Joseph Astbury Warbrick was born January 1, 1862, in Rotorua to Abraham Warbrick, from England, and mother, Nga Karauna Paera, the daughter of a Ngāti Rangitihi chief. Joe went to boarding school where he learnt to play rugby union. His rugby career, in various clubs around New Zealand, led to him representing the country on the 1884 tour of Australia and later captaining the 1888-89 New Zealand Native Football team which went on a 107-match-tour that included Australia and the British Isles. After retiring from sport he worked as a tourist guide and in 1902 married Harriet Burt with whom he had one daughter. On August 30, 1903, Joe was guiding a group at the geyser. He had already warned people not to get too close but followed one young lady who wanted to get closer to get a photograph. A moment later the geyser erupted sending superheated water up and killing Joe, David McNaughton, and sisters Ruby and Catherine Nicholls. Their bodies were carried in a rush of water into Lake Rotomahana. An inquest called it an accident and said the deaths may not have happened if the warnings had been heeded. In 1904 the geyser became dormant and there were smaller eruptions until it stopped altogether, becoming extinct in 1908. Joe is buried at the Awakaponga Cemetery in Matata. The two Nicholls sisters are buried in St Paul's Anglican Church Cemetery in Papanui, Christchurch, while David McNaughton is in Purewa Cemetery in Auckland. When William Rigney found a lone unmarked grave in the small settlement of Horseshoe Bend in Otago he had a sudden feeling that he would end up just the same - in a lonely grave with no headstone.
So he did something about it. He put up a wooden headstone that read Somebody’s Darling Lies Buried Here. Not a lot is confirmed about Rigney. He is believed to have been born in Loughrea, Galway, Ireland in about 1833. He may have attended a theological college - which would not have been unusual - but after supposedly being expelled, instead ended up emigrating to Australia before coming to New Zealand. He was at Gabriels Gully by 1861. The gully was where the first gold rush started. It was then William learned of the ‘lonely grave’ and decided to do something. He and another man, John Ord, built a fence around it and William got a board of black pine, shaped it like a headstone and carved the words into it. Later they appear to have been burnt in. By 1902 the board was badly decayed and the nearby community raised funds for a proper headstone of marble with the same words on it. When asked about it, William said “I have always felt a special interest in that grave, as I have a foreboding that in the end my lot will be the same – viz., a lonely grave on a bleak hillside.” As it happened when William died in 1912, he had expressed an interest in being buried by the grave that had affected him so much. So on his death, aged about 79, on June 5, 1912, he was. His headstone erroneously reads: “Here lies the man who buried Somebody’s Darling.” Despite local legends that Rigney himself had found the body, that has proved to be untrue. So who was Somebody's Darling? No one knows for sure, but a body was found on a beach in the Clyde River in February 1865 and believed to be that of Charles Alms (or maybe Elms) a butcher from the Nevis Valley who drowned in the river in January while herding cattle. An inquest at the time the body was found attributed the body as one Charles Alms. Now the area is called the Lonely Graves Historic Reserve and is considered a symbol for all those who died lonely deaths and are buried in long forgotten graves. Both Rigney and Somebody’s Darling are buried in what is known as the Horseshoe Bend cemetery six miles from Millers Flat. Oddly, in 2000 the original wooden headboard of Somebody’s Darling went missing from the grave and was eventually found outside a Wellington police station. It was returned to Horseshoe Bend. It would be tempting to think that the Luke of whom Luke’s Lane in Wellington was named after was either Sir John Luke or Sir Charles Luke, brothers who were both mayors of Wellington.
Sir John was also known for expanding the tram system. But Lukes Lane is, in fact, named after their father. Samuel Luke was looking for an opportunity. Born in Phillack, Cornwall on January 23, 1831, to William and Elizabeth Luke, he was a mining engineer when the tin mines of Cornwall began to fail. Instead, he loaded up his whole family; wife Ann and children and headed for New Zealand. He was heading for Feilding where he was told a foundry could be built. But on arrival in 1874 he quickly discovered Feilding was at that time just a paper town - there was no industry or infrastructure. Instead, in 1879 he bought the engineering business of Gilchrist and Waters and founded S Luke and Son, a foundry which was on the site where the Wellington Opera House is now. The business was successful with the foundry making iron and brass founders, boiler makers, ships’ cooking ranges (for which they held a patent) gold dredges and was the builder of the lighthouses at Palliser Bay and Castlepoint. The company erected a number of hydraulic cranes on the Wellington wharfs. The company and built the steamships Matai and Weka. At its height the company employed up to 150 people. Both Sir John and Sir Charles worked with the business, Sir John doing his apprenticeship before joining his father then going into politics while Sir Charles was a director of the company. Samuel died on March 3, 1900 aged 69. Long retired, he had been living with a daughter in Christchurch but at the time of his death was visiting a son in Wellington. He had been walking home from a picnic in Kilbirnie and fallen. It was believed he had a heart attack. Samuel and most of his family are buried in the Bolton Street Cemetery. What do you give a country in mourning for a beloved politician?
Well, if it was former Prime Minister Richard Seddon, who had just died, then apparently you get a lion. Wellington was gifted the young lion in 1906, shortly after Seddon’s death and the animal - called King Dick after the nickname often used for Seddon - became the basis for Wellington Zoo. The gift had coincided with a petition by Wellington residents for a zoo to be opened. The zoo was opened under the control of the Wellington City Council (it became a charity in 2003). King Dick wasn’t by himself for long - by 1912 there were over 500 animals - including llamas, emus and kangaroos and has since housed everything from elephants to hedgehogs. Quite a number of animals were gifted to the new zoo - The Duke of Bedford gave two axis deer and six tahrs and the Post Office gave it four storks (presumably retired from delivering new-borns). King Dick himself came from Captain Frank Turner of the travelling Bostock and Wombwell circus. With the zoo open in Newtown, crowds came to see him but as he grew so did some disquiet. He was getting very big and the cage he was kept in seemed far too small. While King Dick was quite tame, concerns were raised in letters to the newspapers wondering if he was lonely. Indeed one letter suggested a female companion should be found for him, they should be “married” and have the run of Newtown Park. So they did (well, not the run of the park thing!) - a female lion was leased from a circus but she turned out not to be a good match and was exchanged for another, called Queen Mary, and she and King Dick did have offspring. She wasn’t, however, supposed to be a permanent fixture and when there was worry that she would be sent back to the circus an appeal went up for money to ‘save’ her. And it was found. King Dick was incredibly popular and remained so all his life. It was in 1921 that he became ill in old age. Eventually losing the use of his hindlegs, the zoo made the sad decision to put him down. Normally we tell you where our subject is buried, but in this case he is still above ground. King Dick was taxidermied and is on display at the Wellington Museum on Queen’s Wharf. However, he is not alone - in 2013 he was joined by another lion gifted by the zoo - Rusty. A wintery wind whipped through the grey-white hair and beard of Dr Arthur Herbert Orpen as he stood on the deck of the SS Australia when she sailed into San Francisco harbour.
Despite the chill, he smiled, thinking he had escaped a conviction for murder in far away New Zealand. The little Irish doctor’s voyage had started 8000 kilometres and 26 days earlier in Auckland on Christmas night 1897 when he boarded the Alameda as a steerage passenger under the name of Arthur Herbert. Dr Orpen’s hurried flight came on the same day that his patient 30-year-old Susan McCallum died, but not before she made a statement saying the 64-year-old doctor had performed an abortion on her – an illegal operation back then. It was a spectacular fall from grace for Dr Orpen who, up till that point, had enjoyed considerable standing in Auckland’s high society, but it was not the first bad decision he made – nor would it be his last. Orpen was born in Kilgarvan, County Kerry, Ireland in 1833 into a life of country lodges and hunting with horse and hounds. His father, Richard Hungerford Orpen was one of a long line of Irish gentry and landowners and his mother, Frances Diana Herbert, came from a long line of church ministers. Arthur Orpen graduated with a degree in medicine from Queens University in Belfast in 1856. He joined the military as an assistant surgeon, a career which led him to India, where he married Jane Sophia Spencer. The couple returned to Ireland and had eight children. Dr Orpen went into private practice moving around England ending up in Oxford, and always moving in the highest of social circles. Then, in 1882, Dr Orpen’s reputation suffered a severe blow when he was declared bankrupt owing 29 creditors around £1000 – a huge sum in those days. He continued to practice, but eventually decided to head for greener pastures in New Zealand leaving his wife and children behind. Dr Orpen arrived in Auckland on October 31, 1888 and two days later was advertising his services, working a gentlemanly two hours a day. He also became church warden at St Pauls. But all did not go as planned. In 1891 he was heavily criticised for his lax procedures when one of his patients died a few hours after being treated for a chest infection. Orpen had performed an autopsy and signed the death certificate despite not opening the man’s stomach. The incident was widely reported, damaging his reputation, but police did not investigate further. Orpen also moved offices frequently and in 1897 opened a surgery in Coombes Arcade on High Street. Coombes Arcade also housed the real estate agency of fellow Irishman James Henry Muldoon, the grandfather of former Prime Minister Robert Muldoon. Then in December 1897, Dr Orpen made the fateful mistake of agreeing to perform the abortion on Miss McCallum. The operation happened on December 9, however, she did not recover as expected. On December 24 she made her statement and died the following day. Dr Orpen’s flight was widely reported, however, being aboard ship he could not have known that New Zealand authorities had arranged for an arrest warrant in the US and that San Francisco Police would be waiting for him at the port. He was eventually returned to New Zealand, where he was tried for the murder of Ms McCallum. The first jury failed to agree and after a second trial he was acquitted. Dr Orpen was free to continue practising medicine, but it would not be for long. Despite his narrow escape from prison, Dr Orpen was again arrested for performing abortions – this time in 1905 and this time on two different women. Both women survived and gave evidence against him, which must have been a blow to him knowing he had risked his career and freedom for them. This time Orpen was found guilty and was sentenced to three years in Mt Eden Gaol – with hard labour. He was 72 years old and frail and did not last to see freedom again, dying on June 20, 1906. But this was not the end of Dr Orpen’s story. The doctor had made two wills, one in 1902, leaving everything to his eldest daughter Mary Orpen and one in 1905 leaving the bulk of his estate to James Henry Muldoon, with a portion also going to his daughter. What ensued was a lengthy legal battle between the lawyers for Miss Orpen and Mr Muldoon. Then, inexplicably, Mr Muldoon withdrew his claim – but provided no explanation, leaving newspapers and Auckland society to question why Dr Orpen would leave a larger part of his estate to this man than to his family. Was it that Muldoon had some hold over him, or was it just another bad decision on the doctor's part? I guess we will never know. See what we else we do: http://genealogyinvestigations.co.nz/index.html |
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