And just like that, another year is over. This year’s been a big one for us. We’ve excavated some large sites, found some cool artefacts, and on top of all that we moved offices. This fortnight on the blog we’re looking back on the year that was 2019. The blog will be back at the start of February next year. Until then, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everyone.
The temperatures are heating up, there’s Christmas decorations in shops around the city and we’re on the countdown to summer holidays. In our penultimate blog post for the year we’re going to look back on some of our best artefacts from the past year. Enjoy!
Recently we’ve been working in Lyttelton at the intersection of Canterbury and Winchester Streets for the installation of a replacement stormwater. While Lyttelton isn’t exactly over the rainbow, for archaeologists it is a pretty fantastic place to discover heritage and archaeology that has survived to the modern day. We have written about a number of sites in Lyttelton on the blog before, and there is always a good chance of encountering something beneath the ground in any project we’re involved in. The subject of the blog today is this particular find on the corner of Canterbury and Winchester Streets, which was a little different to our usual finds within the roadway. No lions, tigers or bears (oh my!), but instead, along with two rubbish pits and the corner of what was likely the original stone kerbing, we uncovered an earlier brick footpath just below the modern asphalt one. Tap your ruby slippers together and let’s go to 19th century Lyttelton to get a bit of context first.
Both Canterbury and Winchester Street are part of the original town plan by Edward Jollie in 1849. Construction of the roads within the Lyttelton township began soon after their survey, but it was not until 1875 that the council finally agreed to fix the level of the street so that “the proper steps [could] be taken for forming the portion of Canterbury street between London and Winchester streets” (Amodeo, 2001: 148; Globe, 5/5/1875: 4, 16/6/1875: 3, 7/7/1875: 3; Press, 13/5/1875: 3, 14/5/1875: 4, 30/6/1875: 3; Star, 23/6/1875: 2). This work was likely necessary as sanitation issues were arising from residents throwing soap suds, vegetable matter, and refuse into the roadway of Canterbury Street (Press, 3/6/1875: 3). This would likely explain our two rubbish pits, although we are yet to do the analysis of these to see if the dates align. Although the Lyttelton Borough Council also commenced the construction of a footpath at this time, the threat of legal proceeding from H. Wynn Williams (the proprietor of the Albion Hotel, formerly located at modern site of Albion Square), whose section boundaries would be affected by the alteration of the roadway, stopped the footpath being completed at this time (Press, 22/9/1875: 3). Finally, in May 1891, the Lyttelton Borough Council adopted the suggestion made by the Foreman of Works that “the footpath in Canterbury Street should be laid down in brick” (Star, 5/5/1891: 4). Although no further information regarding the exact location of the brick footpath is recorded in the minutes of the Council meeting (which were printed in the local newspapers), it is likely that the section of the footpath in our project area was included in these works.
With regards to the property at the corner of Canterbury and Winchester Streets, evidence suggests that by at least May 1880 the premises were leased by Mr William Hatherly, who advertised his grocery store from premises on the “Corner of Canterbury and Winchester Street”, which he called “The People’s Store” (Star, 19/5/1880: 2). In 1890, the premise was advertised for sale, at which time it was described as comprising a “a large store and dwelling of seven rooms with cellarage” and also a “comfortable cottage of three rooms adjoining” (Star, 13/3/1890: 2). Hatherly later purchased the section he had been leasing since 1880 and shortly after advertised for tenders for the “erection of four rooms and alteration to present building, corner of Canterbury and Winchester Streets” (Lyttelton Times, 23/10/1891: 8). These alterations coincided with the Lyttelton Borough Council’s decision to have the footpath in Canterbury Street paved with brick, which suggests Hatherly may have altered the building to best align with the new street frontage.
The decision to pave the footpath with brick at the corner of Canterbury and Winchester Streets shows the important of the foot traffic in the area. While gravel footpaths were more commonly constructed in 19th century Canterbury, the use of brick-paved footpaths were more favourable in areas of heavy foot traffic as they were more pleasant to walk on and provided a better foothold in winter than smooth flagged or asphalted pavement (a very important consideration for Lytteltonians). Bricks were also favourable as they were easily laid, and also easily removed when it was necessary to lay or repair water-pipes or make connections with house drains. In England, brick footpaths were quite ornamental, often being laid in diamond or rosetta patterns (Hasluck, 1904: 76). While none of the bricks we found were quite that ornamental, it has been noted that only the best work would have the bricks at the corners of streets radiate around the street corner in a fan, rather than have two courses of bricks meet at right angles as was more common (Hasluck, 1904: 83).
The brick path exposed during works was a very short one to follow, comprising two sections at a maximum length of 3.5 and 3.8 m each. The path had been disrupted by services laid in the 20th century but the laying of the modern asphalt footpath directly on top of the bricks had done a great job at preserving the remaining sections. All of the bricks were marked with a ‘W’, the manufacturers mark for the Wigram Brothers brickmakers. Wigram Brothers began manufacturing and selling bricks in 1886 when they purchased the brickyard formally owned by Royse, Stead and Co. and the New Zealand Grain Agency Company and Mercantile Ltd in Heathcote (Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser 9/7/1886: 3, Cyclopedia Company Limited, 1903: 292). “W” marked bricks stopped being produced in 1903 when Wigram Brothers merged with T. N. Horsley to form the Christchurch Brick and Tile Company (Press 14/7/1903: 1). The bricks at the corner were laid differently in more of an angled pattern to fit the corner. Although we could only see part of this section, they appeared to radiate out from the corner – more like the fan pattern described above.
This all the information we have for now, as these finds are pretty recent and we’re yet to complete the report on the project. As the project was concentrated on the intersection of the two streets, we don’t know how much of the path remains along the rest of Canterbury Street, although we didn’t encounter it again on the northern side of the intersection. It was great to see that previous asphalting of the footpath kept the bricks in situ and in good condition for us to find later. We’re big fans of heritage fabric being left in place when there is no need to remove it to carry out a project, so it was fantastic that someone had come to the same conclusion in the past.
Megan Hickey and Lydia Mearns.
Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, 1877-1939. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/.
Amodeo, C., 2001. Forgotten Forty-niners: Being an account of the Men & Women who paved the way in 1849 for the Canterbury Pilgrims in 1850. Christchurch: The Caxton Press.
Cyclopedia Company Ltd, 1903. [online] The Cyclopedia of New Zealand [Canterbury Provincial District]. Available at: http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-corpus-cyclopedia.html
Globe, 1874-1882. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/.
Hasluck, P.N., 1904. Road and Footpath Construction. Cassell & Company.
Lyttelton Times, 1851-1914. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/.
Press, 1861-1945. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/.
Star, 1868-1920. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/.
Rice, G.W., 2004. Lyttelton: Port and Town – An Illustrated History. Canterbury University Press.
For a lot of us, Labour Day is celebrated in the same way as a lot of public holidays: not thinking about work, catching up the gardening and odd jobs around the house, going away for a long weekend, having a barbie, that sort of thing. But unlike say, New Year’s Day, or Boxing Day, or The Day After New Year’s Day, or Queen’s Birthday (Down with the Monarchy!), Labour Day is a public holiday with actual historical and national significance beyond an excuse for a day off. Labour Day is among our oldest holidays and was first celebrated on 28 October 1890, a year after the establishment of the Maritime Council, a collection of transport and mining unions (Atkinson, 2018).
The day was not yet a public holiday enshrined in law, but instead a day of collective action. In Christchurch, newspapers report that “the crowds of merry-making children were scarcely happier than parents and elder relations” (Star, 29/10/1890: 2). The Star described it as “the greatest popular demonstration seen in Christchurch since the day when the people of Canterbury assembled in thousands to demand the West Coast Railway” (Star, 29/10/1890: 4). There was a procession of unions, too many to list, but including carpenters, joiners, plasterers, tailors, butchers, labourers, bookbinders, shipwrights, shop assistants, bricklayers, carriers, bakers, boilermakers, engineers, plumbers, gasfitters, and bootmakers. The annual parades and recognition of Labour Day were political in nature, with workers and unionists lobbying for the enforcement of a universal eight-hour working day (among other advances), a right that workers in some industries already enjoyed, while others did not. Though the eight-hour working day never made it into the legislation, Labour Day was made a public holiday by act of parliament in 1899 (Atkinson, 2018).
As Christchurch archaeologists, most of the material culture we find is domestic, and related to consumption- both the commercial consumption kind, and the ‘nom nom nom’ kind. When excavating a domestic Pākehā site in Christchurch, we’re most often faced with a bevy of teacups, plates, platters, bottles and other refuse in a rubbish pit; all products, all artefacts of consumption. In contrast, the reverse is true of Māori archaeological sites, where the majority of artefacts we find are by-products from the manufacture of tools. In the case of Pākehā sites, it can seem a stretch to reconnect these products to their production, and to the hands, machine, and labour that created them. Today’s blog attempts, in honour of good old Labour Day, to reconnect artefacts to labour and production (the first step in the life-history of an artefact), by looking at some of the common tools we find in Pākehā archaeological sites in Christchurch. I won’t be talking about the processes of artefact manufacture per se (but if you’re interested in that, check our earlier blogs here and here).
I’m of the opinion that no shed is complete without a spade, a shovel, a family of spiders that refuse to give you their name or say a polite hello in the mornings, a rake, and a jar of snake specimens in formaldehyde that you stole from your last job (don’t worry, they won’t read this). Digging tools are crucial for construction, agriculture, and household chores, and would’ve been the tool of choice for digging the rubbish pits that are our bread and butter here at Underground Overground Archaeology. Canterbury’s first industry was agriculture, and many of the suburbs surrounding the central city have been converted from market gardens, orchards, and farms (Wilson, 2005). Even as the residential area spread, many people kept animals and gardens, and it’s no surprise that some of the most common tools or implements we find are representative of the agricultural labour that formed early Christchurch’s backbone, the construction associated with the city’s gradual expansion, and the conversion of the surrounding farms. Just as the last eight years have seen a construction boom in Christchurch, construction was a burgeoning industry in the early decades of settlement thanks to steady growth, as the Pākehā population grew from stuff-all to over 50,000 over the course of six decades (Thorns and Schrader, 2010).
Of course, not all labour is hammers and shovels. In the first decades of Christchurch settlement, ‘industry’ largely involved small-scale manufacture of products like beer, soap, shoes, and dairy-products (Burnard, 2000; Pickles, 2000). Many of the commercial and/or industrial sites we encounter in Christchurch reflect this small scale, often being small businesses and the homes of their operators. To contrast with picks and spades, we also find the archaeological remains of planning, drafting, and other sketchy workplace behaviours (you’ll see what I did there when you get to the photos). We also often find artefacts commonly associated with the manufacture of clothing, like scissors, bobbins, pins, sewing machine fragments, and off-cuts of cloth and leather. Sometimes these are from sites of professional tailors and dressmakers, but often they are from households of other occupations, and represent the often-unrecorded, unpaid, and underappreciated labour of the domestic sphere, largely done by women. These are a helpful reminder that even though the majority of artefacts we find are associated with consumption of the ‘nom nom nom’ type, they also represent the uncredited labour of those who prepared food and drink throughout the past.
Of course, Christchurch was founded during the western industrial revolution, with artisanal and small-scale manufacture gradually giving way to larger factories, like that shown above, and increasing mechanisation of what had previously been handmade (Pickles, 2005). We’ve excavated sites of smithies, workshop and foundries in central Christchurch, places where tools and machinery were forged, perhaps including some of those shown above. Initially, most of the city’s tools were imported from the UK, but the development of local foundries soon filled the gap, and between the late 1800s and early 1900s, Christchurch was New Zealand’s major manufacturing centre (Williams, 2005: 131). Foundry workers forged the agricultural implements and machinery that farmers used to produce the food that fed the labour force and drove a major portion of the economy. The foundries and workshops also produced and assembled the carriages and locomotives that formed the backbone of New Zealand’s early transport network, making vital connections to distant towns. On foundry sites, we not only find rubbish pits chocka with scrap metal, off-cuts and extras from the manufacturing process, but we’ve also been lucky enough to find the remains of furnaces, factory floors, and other structural features that help to bring these workplaces to life, and to illustrate the lives of the workers that produced the tools and machinery that ran the colony.
One of the challenges in archaeology is trying to connect the artefact to the person that made or used it. It’s a little easier in historical archaeology, where we can use documents to roughly equate the dates of features to the occupants of a property at that time, but it’s an imprecise process. Rarely do we get an artefact that we can directly infer, rather than suggest, a connection with a particular individual. Well, if you didn’t think the previous sentences were a lead-up to a picture of an artefact with a specific person’s name on it, YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN AND BAD AT READING FORESHADOWING.
A carpenter’s tool associated with a particular named carpenter! There is a 1909 reference to J. Gill from Christchurch who was a carpenter and joiner, but there is no known association between Gill and the site where this was found (Star, 05/08/1909: 3). The file was part of an underfloor deposit at St Luke’s Vicarage on Kilmore Street, and it is possible that Gill lost or discarded the file between the floorboards while at work at the vicarage. We may not know much about Gill, but this file is a tangible remnant of the man and his work. When we talk about putting all our ability and effort to a task, we talk about putting all our “blood, sweat, and tears” into it. Though these things leave no (or little) trace behind to tell of the labour and effort we expend over our lifetimes, many of the physical remains of this labour remain, as do the tools we use to produce them. The archaeological record preserves these remains, and can give us an insight in to the labour that went into the formation of Christchurch, and the lives of its inhabitants.
Here are a couple of my favourite tools: a sickle that I liberated from my Grandad’s when we cleared it out, and my trusty trowel.
Finally, I wish you good weather, good company, good food, and good times for the Labour Day weekend. I leave you with a photo of some folks celebrating Labour Day the way many New Zealander’s have for decades, and a poem from the first Labour Day.
Atkinson, N., 2018. ‘Labour Day’, URL: https://nzhistory.govt.nz/politics/labour-day, (Ministry for Culture and Heritage), updated 19-Jun-2018. Accessed 23 October 2019.
Bradley, F., Webb, K. and Garland, J., 2016. 448 Johns Road, Christchurch: report on archaeological monitoring. Unpublished report for the New Zealand Transport Agency.
Burnard, T. 2000. ‘An Artisanal Town – The Economic Sinews of Christchurch’ in Cookson, J. and Dunstall. G. 2000. Southern Capital – Christchurch: Towards a city biography 1850-2000. Canterbury University Press, Christchurch.
Derby, M. 2016. ‘Strikes and labour disputes – Early labour disputes’, Te Ara – the Encyclopedia of New Zealand, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/artwork/20469/first-labour-day-procession-dunedin (accessed 24 October 2019).
Dooley, S. Haley, J., and Dickson, C. 2018. Laneway area, 93, 103, and 105 Manchester Street, 196, 204, and 206 Tuam Street, 221 and 227 St Asaph Street, Christchurch (M35/1132): report on archaeological monitoring. HNZPT authority 2016/701eq. Unpublished report for Ōtākaro Ltd.
Dooley, S., Whybrew, C., Garland, J. and Mearns, L. 2016. 150 St Asaph Street, Christchurch (M35/1164, M35/1165, M35/1166): report on archaeological monitoring. HNZPT authority 2016/435eq. Unpublished report for Southbase.
Evening Post, 2/11/1899:2. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/.
Garland, J., Carter, M. and Geary Nichol, R., 2014. The Terrace, M35/1050, Christchurch: Report on Archaeological Investigations, Volumes 1-2. Unpublished report for Hereford Holdings.
Pickles, K. 2000. ‘Workers and workplaces – industry and modernity’ in Cookson, J. and Dunstall. G. 2000. Southern Capital – Christchurch: Towards a city biography 1850-2000. Canterbury University Press, Christchurch.
Star, 29/10/1890: 2. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/.
Star, 29/10/1890: 4. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/.
Star, 05/08/1909: 3. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/.
Thorns, D. and Schrader B., 2010., ‘City history and people – The appeal of city life’, Te Ara – the Encyclopedia of New Zealand, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/graph/23512/population-of-the-four-main-cities-1858-2006. Accessed 23 October 2019.
Williams, H., Garland, J. and Geary Nichol, R., 2017. Christchurch Justice and Emergency Services Precinct, Volumes 1-3. Archaeological Report. Unpublished Report for the Ministry of Justice by Underground Overground Archaeology Ltd.
Williams, H., and Watson, C. 2019. St Luke’s Vicarage (former), 185 Kilmore Street, Christchurch: report on archaeological work under HNZPT authority 2017/757eq. Unpublished report for Maiden Built Ltd.
Wilson, J. 2005. Contextual historical overview for Christchurch City final draft report for comment. Christchurch; Christchurch City Council.
The Beca Heritage Festival 2019 is currently on in Christchurch. There’s lots of interesting events being held, highlighting both the work being done in the heritage sector in Christchurch and providing opportunities to visit and interact with Christchurch’s heritage (see here for a full list). Last week we held an open office event, giving Christchurch residents an opportunity to check out our lab and listen to us talk about what we actually do as archaeologists working in Christchurch. As part of the open office night, we put on an exhibition telling the stories of three people we have encountered doing archaeology in Christchurch: Ada Wells, Henry and Elizabeth Watkins, and William Cuddon.
This fortnight on the blog, we’re going to share one of those stories, that of Henry and Elizabeth Watkins. Henry Green Watkins (b. 1829) and his wife Elizabeth Maria Watkins (b. 1837) arrived in New Zealand in 1857. Following a brief stint at the Thames goldfields and some time spent in Lyttelton, the couple settled in Akaroa where Henry opened a general store. The couple were drawn to Akaroa as Henry’s father, Dr. Daniel Watkins, his mother, Julia Watkins, and his five siblings were already living in the town.
Henry and Elizabeth appear to have had a happy and successful life in Akaroa. In 1871 they moved into what was later known as Holly Cottage, a ten-roomed house with orchard gardens and a stream to the north. They had at least 11 children: Henry William Daniel (b. 1854), Frank (b. 1860), Walter (b. 1862), Amy Florence (b. 1864), Ernest John (b. 1866), Marina Maude (b. 1868), Arthur Evelyn (b. 1870), Albert Nigel (b. 1872), Lillian Rosina (b. 1874, d. 1875), Elizabeth Constance (b. 1876), and Beatrice Lilian (b. 1878).
Along with his shop, located on Beach Road, Henry owned several blocks of land around the peninsula that he either leased or farmed, with the Watkins family well known for their orchards. Henry appears to have been an important figure in the fledgling town of Akaroa. He was elected as Akaroa’s second mayor, in office between 1877 and 1878, and during his term Farr’s bridge was constructed.
In 1879 Henry passed away, aged 50, leaving Elizabeth to care for their ten surviving children. Elizabeth not only raised her ten children (aged between one and 25 at time of their father’s passing) but continued to run the store and manage the blocks of land owned by the Watkins. Elizabeth was described as being “Of quiet and unobtrusive habits and of excellent business capacity, she had the knack, although in delicate health, of making her way in the world, and leaves behind her an unsullied reputation” (Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertisor 20.07.1894). In 1894, aged 57, Elizabeth passed away, having had a weak chest for several years prior. In her will she left her estate to her sons Henry William Daniel and Ernest John, on the provision that it be sold, and the profits divided amongst all of her children. The sale of the estate revealed she owned 788 acres of land in Akaroa and around Banks Peninsula and Little River, a sizeable sum of land which reflects the success her and her late husband had.
In October 2018, Underground Overground Archaeology monitored excavations at the site of Holly Cottage, where Elizabeth and Henry Watkins lived from 1871 until 1894. Unfortunately, Holly Cottage was demolished during the 20th century, and we’re yet to find a photograph of what the cottage looked like. During the excavations a large assemblage of artefacts was found, with over 2,000 artefacts recovered.
Most of these artefacts were found in what was interpreted to be an old creek bed, located just a few metres away from the modern stream. Unlike modern times where household refuse is collected by rubbish trucks, people living in the 19th century had to dispose of their rubbish by their own means. The most common way to do this was for people to dig a pit in their backyard and bury their rubbish. However, it would appear that the Watkins took advantage of the natural depression created by the old stream and threw their rubbish into the gully. Doing this saved the hassle of digging a pit, and the old creek bed was located far enough away from the cottage that the unpleasant smell of rubbish was unlikely to make its way inside the house.
The artefacts excavated from the old creek bed hinted at what the Watkins’ daily lives were like. They included food and beverage bottles, giving some insight into the meals Elizabeth was probably making for her family. The Watkins family appear to have made the most of Akaroa’s seaside location, with nearly 700 shells found, mostly oyster, cockle and pipi, along with kingfish bones. Worcestershire Sauce seems to have been a favourite, with 11 bottles of the sauce recovered. Several pharmaceutical bottles were discovered, many of which were patent medicines that promised to cure any kind of disease. These may have been purchased by Elizabeth in her later years to ease her chest pain. Also present were four bottles of Piesse and Lubin perfume, suggesting it was a favourite of Elizabeth’s.
What was most unusual about the artefact assemblage found in the creek bed, however, was the amount of complete or near-complete objects. These ranged from ceramic plates, platters and tureens to a glass decanter and basket, to two clothes irons and a cooking pot. Finding complete and near-complete items is relatively rare in the archaeological record, and it suggested that the items found in the old creek bed were not just day-to-day household rubbish. Following Elizabeth’s death in 1894, Holly Cottage was leased to Mr Joseph Barwick. It is possible that after her death her sons cleaned out the cottage, throwing away any of her possessions they did not want to keep. This would explain the presence of items such as the clothes irons, which were intended to last a lifetime, and gives us archaeologists a chance to see what the Watkins’ lives were like over 120 years later.