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“A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words” -Alfred Charles Barker and his photography

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When it comes to researching properties and places around Christchurch, we historians review and compare a wide range of resources in order to figure out exactly what was happening there during the 19th century. By far one of the most valuable resources we have are photographs – as the saying goes: “A picture is worth a thousand words.” When it comes to early photographs of Christchurch, there is one man to whom we are forever indebted: Dr Alfred Charles Barker (1819-1873). So, this week on the blog we thought we would give a wee overview of Dr Barker’s life in Christchurch and some of the amazing photographs that make up his legacy.

Photograph of Alfred Charles Barker with his camera in 1864. Image:Canterbury Museum, 1864.

The Barker family arrived in Canterbury on board the Charlotte Jane in December 1850, and Dr Barker was among the first colonists to come ashore. Barker selected Town Sections 717 and 718 (located on the northeast corner of Worcester Street and Oxford Terrace) as the site for his family home. In preparation for the family’s departure to New Zealand, Barker had purchased a consignment of timber with which to build a dwelling. But upon his arrival in the colony, he found that his timber had been sold. As an alternative, Barker purchased the studding sail from the Charlotte Jane and used it to construct a dwelling for his family on Town Sections 717 and 718. This early dwelling was affectionately known as Studdingsail Hall. Barker did a good deal of sketching during his first years of settlement in Canterbury, and some of his earliest sketches provide views of the exterior and interior of Studdingsail Hall. The outdoor stove being tended by the women on the righthand side of the sketch is also believed to a cooking stove taken from the Charlotte Jane (MacDonald, 1952-1964: B124).

Sketch by Dr Barker in January 1851, showing the Barker family’s first dwelling ‘Studdingsail Hall’. Image: Alfred Barker, 1851.

The Barker family’s residence was in close proximity to Christchurch’s earliest public building, the Land Office, which was located on the opposite side of Oxford Terrace, where the Municipal Chambers building currently stands. As such, the Barker’s home witnessed a number of important public events in the history of the fledgling township. For example, when rural land was first made available for selection by the Canterbury pilgrims in February 1851, large crowds gathered around the Land Office building and the Barker family provided hospitality to those who gathered. The Lyttelton Times records:

Dr Barker’s tent, which stands immediately opposite the land office, and is constructed of an immense studding-sail, formerly belonging to the “Charlotte Jane,” was remarkable for its seasonable hospitality (Lyttelton Times, 22/2/1851: 5).

Dr Barker was Christchurch’s first doctor, making Studdingsail Hall Christchurch’s earliest medical surgery. His practice is known to have been innovative, with Dr Barker being an early adopter of chloroform as an anaesthetic during surgery, as well as designing and building his own steam bath (Turner, 1990). Barker’s tent does not appear to have remained long on the property before he replaced or converted it into a more substantial timber dwelling. A sketch drawn by Barker in December 1852, shows the Barker family’s timber dwelling standing on the corner of Oxford Terrace and Worcester Street.

Detail from a photograph of Alfred Barker’s 1852 sketch of Christchurch, showing the Barker family’s timber dwelling (red arrow). Image: New Zealand Graphic and Ladies Journal, 1897.

Dr Barker’s early sketches of Christchurch show his artistic side, but it was not until 1856-1857 that he discovered what would be his lifelong artistic passion: photography. It is not clear exactly when Barker was first introduced to photography, but he is believed to have been taught the art by his friend Benjamin Mountfort, who was himself advertising as a portraiture photographer from April 1857 (Lyttelton Times, 7/3/1857: 9; MacDonald, 1952-1964: B124). Photography itself appears to have begun to take off in Christchurch in 1857, with the Lyttelton Times proclaiming in May 1857:

Photography has broken out like an epidemic among us. Quite unknown in the place a year ago, we have now a professional artist well known in the northern provinces, and another on the point of coming; two students practising the art, and, we believe, one amateur. Canterbury will now be able to look itself straight in the face (Lyttelton Times, 9/5/1857: 7).

It is possible that Dr Barker was the ‘amateur’ mentioned by the Lyttelton Times, but despite his amateur status, Barker appears to have been infatuated with the artform and began dedicating much of his time to his new hobby. It did not take long for Dr Barker to start losing interest in his medical practice, and by the end of 1858 he had given it up entirely (Turner, 1990). As photography had only just reached Christchurch in 1857, he had to get creative to obtain the equipment he needed. He is said to have built a camera from a tea chest lined with paper and with a lens barrel made from a large empty pill box whose lid was used as a combined lens hood and shutter (Early Canterbury Photography, 2008). When he couldn’t get his hands on the glass he required, he was known to cut panes of glass from his windows to make wet plates, and when he couldn’t get hold of the necessary gold and silver salts used in the photographic process, he use to melt down sovereigns, silverware, and cutlery to make his own (MacDonald, 1952-1964: B124). He even cut his own paper and treated it with egg white (Early Canterbury Photography, 2008). Many of Barker’s early photographs are domestic images – portraiture of his family and friends around his home and garden – and so he constructed a dark room in his home on Worcester Street in which to develop these domestic images (Turner, 1990).

Photograph of the Barker family playing croquet at their home in Worcester Street in the 1860s. Image: Alfred Barker, 1860s.

Photograph looking west along Worcester Street in 1872, showing Dr Alfred Barker’s house. Image: Alfred Barker, 1872.

It was not long before Dr Barker began to adventure out to take photographs around the Christchurch township and further afield. As the wet plate process required the images to be developed almost immediately after taking the photograph, he constructed a four wheeled buggy with a dark room on the back so that he could develop his plates wherever he might be. One story told is that when Barker was processing photographs in his mobile dark room in Sumner, the horse was startled and took off with him trapped inside. When the horse was finally recovered, he emerged looking like a Dalmatian dog covered with blotches of nitrate of silver (MacDonald, 1952-1964: B124).

Photograph of Dr Alfred Charles Barker and his homemade photographic trap in April 1869. Image: Alfred Barker, 1869.

Photograph of Dr Alfred Charles Baker at Cave Rock in Sumner with his photographic trap in 1867. Image: Alfred Baker, 1867.

Dr Barker’s extensive portfolio of photographs taken throughout his life has become a significant source of information for researching early Canterbury. Some of his most valuable images are the early photographs of Christchurch, which show how much the settlement has grown from a small timber township to a thriving city.

Photograph looking northeast towards the Victoria Street bridge in 1860. Image: Alfred Barker, 1860.

Photograph looking south over Cathedral Square on Market Day in 1871. Image: Alfred Barker, 1871.

Photograph looking along High Street in 1872, Image: Alfred Barker, 1872.

Dr Barker died at his Worcester Street residence in March 1873 (Lyttelton Times, 21/3/1873: 3). Shortly after his death, the Barker family moved away from the property, and the family’s household furniture and goods were sold off (Lyttleton Times, 16/4/1873: 4). Dr George Lilly Mellish temporarily took up occupation in Barker’s former premises, but in July 1878 the trustees of Barker’s estate decided to remove the house from the property (Press, 2/7/1878: 4). Dr Barker’s house was purchased for removal by Mr. Furhmann in July 1878, and was finally removed from the section in February 1879 (Lyttelton Times, 20/2/1879: 4; Press, 19/7/1878: 2). A photograph taken from the spire of the Cathedral in early 1881, shows Dr Barker’s former property after the removal of his house and garden.

Photograph looking west from the Cathedral’s spire in 1881 showing no buildings present on Dr Barker’s former property. Image: Wheeler and Son, 1881.

While Dr Barker’s photographs are an amazing resource for researchers today, they are not the only material left behind by photographers for us to view. The photographic process requires all manner of equipment, chemicals, and other sundries in order to produce an image, and these items also come to form part of the material culture of early Christchurch. Unfortunately to date, we have not encountered any of Dr Barker’s photographic equipment, but our archaeologists have encountered other examples of photograph material from time to time.

When excavating a site occupied by Mr Samuel Charles Louis Lawrence, photographer, in Oxford Terrace in 2013, out team encountered the usual material culture relating to Lawrence’s occupation of the property in the 1860s and 1870s: tea and table wares, food containers, alcohol bottles, personal hygiene items, pharmaceutical bottles, smoking pipes and shoes. But among these typical items, our team also found evidence of Lawrence’s photographic pursuits – a bottle made by R. W. Thomas who made all manner of chemicals and other sundries used in the practice of photography  – Check out the full blog on Lawrence’s site here.

R. W. Thomas bottle from the site on Oxford Terrace. R. W. Thomas operated as a photographic merchant from 1851 until 1894, becoming R. W. Thomas & Co. and then R. W. Thomas & Co. Ltd in the 1880s. Thomas sold all manner of photographic equipment, from dry plates, dark tents and cameras to the chemicals and products necessary for the development of the photographs. Image: J. Garland.

When excavating a well in Invercargill’s CBD a few years ago, our New Zealand Heritage Properties partners encountered a wide range of photographic equipment relating to a photographic studio which occupied the site during the early 20th century. The material includes parts of a wooden camera, bottles which held ink, glue, lubricating oil (possibly for the camera parts), and mascara (theorised to have been used for editing photographs as Victorian and Edwardian formulas generally consisted of coal and petroleum jelly, providing a thicker consistency than many inks), and glass plates (Check out the excavation here).

Timber camera components. (A) front and back of handmade camera component. (B) shutter mechanism closed (left) and open (right). (C) part of shutter mechanism. (D) front standard. (F) bone page turner/spatula. Image: N. Woods.

Selection of photography related glass vessels and blank plates in two sizes and materials (glass and porcelain). Bottles clockwise from top left: oval cross section bottle, ink, square cross section bottle, perfume/mascara bottle, cobalt blue chemical bottle top and small phial. Image: N. Woods.

Photography came early to Christchurch, with a number of studios being established from 1857. But one of the earliest and most dedicated amateur photographers was Dr Alfred Charles Barker, who took numerous shots around Canterbury between 1857 and 1873. His legacy of photographs is one of the most valuable resources we have to view early Christchurch, and we researchers are forever indebted to him. Thousands of his photographs are available to view on the Canterbury Museum website and we encourage you to check them out! But it is not just the photographs themselves which our early photographers have left behind, but also a unique material culture of photographic equipment that we are looking forward to uncovering more of in the future.

Lydia Mearns

Displaying Wealth and Status in Buildings: Part Two

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Welcome back to Part Two of ‘displaying wealth and status in buildings’. Now, before we get into the interior of the building, I want you to use your imagination when looking at the upcoming photos. Prior to taking these photos, this grand old dwelling was rented out by room and when people moved out… well they left a lot of stuff. There were also squatters who broke in and appeared to have a party in multiple rooms (and a small fire or two). I’m sure it wasn’t the type of sendoff the Ballantynes envisioned for their house but it’s the one it got. I’ve tried to spare you all of some of the horrors I faced in this building, but some may have slipped in. It is surprising the things building archaeologists have to face in our line of work, but a lot of the time in Christchurch the damaged buildings we work in have been squatted in… so we find some very interesting and gross things. But they make great work stories and sometimes blogs!

Anywho, the Ballantyne dwelling surprisingly had many original features remaining in the interior, including a couple that I hadn’t seen before. This may be due to my limited years working as a building archaeologist or the fact I have mainly worked on smaller cottages and villas that were not owned by people of the same status as the Ballantynes.

First things first, the layout of the dwelling. The Ballantyne home was laid out similarly to almost every other Christchurch Victorian home. It had a central hallway with rooms coming off it on either side and a staircase that led up to more rooms. The dwelling would have had 15 rooms originally, with all of the public rooms and smaller utilitarian rooms on the ground floor of the building. Bedrooms and servant quarters would have been on the first floor. This hypothesis is based on the grand scale of the front rooms and smaller back rooms on the ground floor. On the first floor, it is probable that the larger front rooms were the bedrooms for the Ballantyne family while the smaller back rooms were the servant quarters. Below I have rejigged the floorplans for the ground floor to show my theory on how the dwelling was originally laid out.

My imagined floorplan of the Ballantynes original dwelling. Like most 19th century dwellings, it had a central hallway that connected the main rooms of the house and went all the way to the back. The three rooms that have been labelled as ‘public rooms’ were highly decorative and were likely the parlour, dining room and drawing room – rooms that the Ballantynes would host guests in but also would use in their daily lives. The two utilitarian rooms off to the side, I’m not sure what the exact use of these rooms were. I like to imagine that they might have been a small scullery that servants could use to serve guests from while the Ballantynes entertained in the adjoining room.

Now the fun bit of the blog. Below I have singled out some stunning decorative features (some were also functional) that showcase the Ballantyne’s style and shows how they portrayed themselves to their guests.

Textured wallpaper on the ceiling of the hallway. Screams wealthy to me!

Only four large ceiling roses remained. Ceiling roses doubled as beautiful decorative pieces as well as providing ventilation to the rooms. These ceiling roses were found in the central hallway, two public rooms and the master bedroom upstairs. There were likely more but had been removed over time.

Cornices, cornices, cornices. The Ballantynes seemed to love their cornices! There is a saying “the bigger the cornice the fancier the room”… ok maybe I just made that up but its true! Large decorative cornices are usually found in public rooms of larger homes and in the case of the Ballantynes, they even put these large cornices in their master bedroom upstairs. Fancy.

The classic Victorian divider. Found in many different 19th century homes, a type of divider was used in the hallway to show a physical divide between the front of the house and the back of the house (think public vs private rooms). Now this timber divider is one I had never come across. The Ballantyne’s used a lot of wooden detail in their house, so it makes sense they had this timber divider. The more common dividers we see are usually plaster archways or the use of plaster corbels.

Please ignore the man in the back and instead focus on this beautiful Rimu staircase. A grand staircase for a grand dwelling. Now you know a lot of money went into this beautiful thing. Don’t worry this staircase found its new home in the North Island. While I am always sad to see a 19th century building demolished, its nice when items are able to be salvaged and given a new life elsewhere.

This may be one of the most beautiful fireplace surrounds I have ever come across. The detail was amazing. This fireplace surround was in the larger front public room. The Ballantyne home had eight fireplaces, which would have been very expensive to put in. Typically, fireplaces were constructed in the kitchen and a public room, depending on the size of the house and the money available. Sometimes we find an extra fireplace in a bedroom or two. But for this house to have eight is extravagant, and truly showed their wealth. (This piece also found a new home before the demolition).

Don’t mind the cast iron register that has fallen out… As a comparison for the fireplace surround above, this one was in the public room at the back of the house. Still a nice wooden surround, but it does not have the grandeur of the first surround. The large front room may have been the main room to receive guests while the back public room was reserved for only some guests to see but was likely mostly used by the family.

While not in the best condition anymore… imagine this timber finger plate with brass inlaid decoration, the brass key escutcheon and timber doorknob with brass decoration in prime condition – they definitely added some elegance to the Ballantyne’s doors.

The true star of the hallway (it also continued up the stairs and onto the landing) was this decorative varnished rimu wainscoting, which had been stencilled with a Greek key variant for the boarder and a four-corner design inspired by classical motifs. This highly decorative feature was added to the central hallway as it would have been seen by everyone that entered the dwelling. Other wainscoting was featured in a public room, but it did not have the decorative stencilling.

I have found that it is quite rare to find a 19th century toilet still in use in a house I’m recording. So, I was surprised to find one! Lucky for you I did not take a photo of the lid up… but trust me it had the original porcelain toilet! It was a ‘Unitas’ which was a one-piece ceramic pedestal closet that was manufactured from 1883. Also, very impressive that the Ballantynes had this toilet connected to the main house.

The Ballantyne dwelling is a great showcase of a dwelling built for a family with some wealth and status in the community. As touched on in Part 1, the exterior of the dwelling was well decorated and would have been impressive to view. The features they chose to have on the exterior set the tone for the rest of their house and it was the first impression a guest would have of them and their status. They clearly wanted to give a very prominent impression. On the interior there were decorative elements throughout the rooms, but they were mainly focused within the public rooms. This shows the Ballantynes were conscience of the way their house was viewed by their guests and that they made an effort to make the rooms that guests would enter be highly decorative, showing the Ballantynes as upper class.

Now, while all these features together are impressive, and they would have cost the Ballantynes a bit of money, these features can be found throughout different 19th century homes of families with different wealth and status. What makes the Ballantyne’s dwelling impressive is the combination of all of these features and the use of them throughout the dwelling.

Jamie-Lee Hearfield

Bonus content!

Our very lovely historian found deep in her files two photographs that I wanted to share with you all.

The first is this photograph from ca.1912 of Josiah Ballantine and his family in front of their stone motor garage in their new 1912 Unic. The stone garage behind them was sadly demolished prior to our involvement. There was a local legend about this stone building, that it was actually a small chapel, sadly this is not the case and instead it was just a very impressive garage! Image: Ogilvie, G., 2004. Ballantynes, The Story of Dunstable House 1854-2004. J. Ballantynes & Co.

The second is of this model of the Ballantyne house! Apparently, it is housed somewhere at the Canterbury Museum, but we have only ever seen this photo of it. As you can see this was created prior to enclosing the veranda and balcony. Image: Christchurch City Council, 2020. Property File. 

 

 

Displaying Wealth and Status in Buildings: Part One

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The act of showing off wealth and status through material is a concept that has been happening throughout human history. This does not necessarily mean that the person had the wealth and status they were portraying, instead some people just wanted to give the illusion that they were more well off than they actually were (known nowadays as ‘keeping up with the Joneses’). The Victorians were well involved in the concept of showing off their wealth and status to the public through how they decorated and organised their buildings both inside and out.

We see this in many of the Christchurch buildings we record. Depending on the person’s budget, a Victorian dwelling in Christchurch would have the street facing façade as the decorative exterior elevation (sometimes the sides of the dwellings also had decorative features – dependent on the view from the street and/or if the owner could afford to). Inside the dwelling, the decorative features were mainly focused on the rooms that guests would view and use (sometimes referred to as ‘public’ rooms).

Before we jump in let’s first familiarise ourselves with common features of a 19th century building. Luckily, I have prepared this one below (full disclosure this drawing is three different buildings I’ve recorded combined into one so I could show different features that we find on 19th century buildings in Christchurch. This is not a legit building…):

A diagram showing different decorative elements on 19th century buildings. Purely for educational purposes.

The case study in this blog today was a dwelling built for a member of the Ballantyne family, a wealthy family in Christchurch who established the well-known Ballantyne’s drapery business in central Christchurch. The land was purchased by Jessie Montgomery Ballantyne, the wife of Josiah Ballantyne, in October 1889. The Ballantynes appear to have constructed their residence on the section ca. 1892 and remained there throughout the remainder of the 19th century. The property was then sold by the Ballantynes in 1927. The dwelling was a two-storey timber framed weatherboard bay villa with a T-shaped gable roof clad in corrugated iron. Unusual for such a grand building, no architect could be found connected to the design of this dwelling.

So, with the background of the dwelling complete, I hope you are now thinking ‘what does a dwelling owned by a member of a wealthy family in the 19th century look like?’ Well, lucky for us, a fantastic photograph was taken of the building in 1898.

Photograph of Josiah and Jessie Ballantyne’s house in c. 1898. Image: Canterbury Museum, 1898.

Now, as a comparison, this is how the dwelling looked when I started recording it in 2020 (122 years later):

Photograph of Josiah and Jessie Ballantyne’s house in c. 2020. Image: J. Hearfield.

It may initially be a bit of a shock to see the state in which the grand house ended up, but when you look past the modifications, you can see many of the remaining decorative features the Ballantyne’s put into their home. I’ve compiled a few comparisons below to show these features.

If you ignore the tv dish, the hole and the plyboard in the right photograph – this gable hasn’t really changed! The highly decorative gable features circular designed carved bargeboards finished with rosettes, and decorative timber stickwork detailing. The first-floor triple sash window set had a traditional style architrave, a moulded flat pediment and decorative aprons. Very fancy.

Once again: ignoring the modern additions (this time modern material to stop the squatters from getting back into the building…). The bay window appears original with dentils under the roof and decorative aprons underneath the sills. The bay window featured three sash windows and it’s not super obvious in these two photos but above each sash window was a coloured glass leadlight window with a geometric floral motif reminiscent of the Art Nouveau style (I’ll post a photo of the windows below because they are beautiful).

The beautiful Art Nouveau style leadlight windows, photo taken inside the dwelling. Now, don’t worry, these windows were all salvaged prior to the demolition.

The same post just 122 years between the photos. The timber worked chamfered post was incorporated into the enclosed veranda and only one fretwork bracket remained for this post. Above the post you can see the fretwork lace still in situ.

The veranda and the balcony were extremely detailed with fretwork lace and brackets. It would have been very eye-catching for the public walking past. While the right photo is the west elevation of the balcony, it shows the original timber fretwork for the balcony, and it was the same as the street-facing elevation fretwork. It also shows that the original posts in the 1898 photo were still in situ, they were just incorporated into the enclosure of the veranda and balcony. This photo also shows the closed west wall of the balcony (the original leadlight window was removed prior to demolition but look below to see it before it was removed)

I don’t know about you, but I think this was the original leadlight window. A lancet-shaped window isn’t super common, let alone a lancet-shaped window with a colourful leadlight pattern for a balcony! This was also salvaged and is hopefully living a new life in someone’s home for the next 100 years.

The front façade of the dwelling was the first impression the public and guests would have had of the Ballantynes. Based on the exterior of their house, it appears image was important. As you can see from the images above, they put a lot of effort (and money) into the presentation of their home. This dwelling would have been very impressive to look at from the street. For comparison I’ve added below another historic photograph of another dwelling I have recorded in Christchurch, an 1880s dwelling owned by the Whitehead family.

Photograph of George James and Mary Ann Whitehead outside their house, Kilmore Street, Christchurch in c..1920. Image: Alexander Turnbull Library, 1920. Just a side note: this is actually one of my favourite photos I’ve come across because if you look real closely you can see George James Whitehead looking lovingly at his wife Mary.

This dwelling had decorative elements such as fretwork on the barge boards, fretwork brackets on the veranda and sash windows with decorative moulded pediments in a classical style. While these decorative features are nice, they are nowhere near like the conspicuous features the Ballantynes presented. George James Whitehead was a post-office clerk, so it’s likely the Whitehead family were more middle class and their dwelling gave the appearance of some wealth on the exterior but had a small simpler interior. Unlike the Ballantynes, who went all out on the interior of their home. However, I must stop here as this concludes Part One of this blog – to see how the Ballantynes decorated the inside of their home (well what remained of the original features) tune in next time.

Jamie-Lee Hearfield

References

Alexander Turnbull Library, 1920. George James and Mary Ann Whitehead outside their house, Kilmore Street, Christchurch. Whitehead, Henry Norford, 1870-1965 : Negatives of Napier, Hastings and district. Ref: 1/1-022247-G., Wellington, New Zealand./records/29948500

Canterbury Museum, 1898. Houses, Linwood, “Waverley” Worcester Street. Christchurch City Council Property File

A man named Wuzerah

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Much of the historical information we have available about 19th century Canterbury was written by and about individuals with access to property, resources, money, time, and influence. In this blog post I want to look at an individual who didn’t have access to any of these things and look at two things. Firstly, what was his story? And secondly, how and why was that story told?

The small and unassuming newspaper reference that inspired this blog. Originally, I was going to write on the Cashmere Drains Historic Area, but when you live in a city that was very very proud of its English roots when it came to naming geographic things (I’m looking at you nearly every single street in Central Christchurch), a name like Wuzerah’s Drain stands out. And so, down the rabbit hole I went. Image: Lyttelton Times 11/5/1877: 3.

The man at the centre of this blog was called, or at least referred to in historical sources, as Wuzerah. The name Wuzerah means minister or butler (Drury 2016: 28), indicating his name could have been either a personal name or a work title. Wuzerah, title or name, is spelt in a variety of ways in the primary historical sources, including Wazero, Wizzero and Wiggers (Press 23/3/1941; Press 24/10/1927: 15). Sometimes Wuzerah is referred to with the identifier ‘a Mahomedan’, ‘Moosalman’, or even just as ‘Indian Natives’ or ‘Hindoos’, and the connection between the article and the man is only made clear by reference to his employer (Drury, 2016: 28; Lyttelton Times 9/7/1859: 5; Press 8/10/1869: 3; Star 9/12/1886: 3; Press 11/12/1886: 1). Europeans had a poor grasp on ethnic or religious distinctions of these groups at the time, and these terms are often used to lump together disparate peoples. Wuzerah and his family were Indian, and were possibly Afghan-Pashtun folk, based on the etymology of Wuzerah’s names and the names of his eldest sons, Pero and Mero (Drury, 2016: 28). Wuzerah’s sons took his first name as their last name, which is a traditional Muslim custom.

Wuzerah came to New Zealand, with his wife Mindia and his two eldest sons, under the employ of Cracroft Wilson in 1854. Wuzerah was a member of the Indian workforce that Cracroft Wilson employed in the creation of what is now known as the Cashmere Drains Historic Area,and on his large Cracroft Estate. Most of what we know about Wuzerah is framed in and around his employer, who was a significant and powerful individual within early colonial society in Canterbury (we have another blog on Cracroft Wilson here). Unlike Cracroft Wilson, we don’t have an entry in Te Ara to tell us who Wuzerah was and what his life in early Christchurch was like. Instead, we have to use legal records: court records, coroner’s inquest reports, records of accidents, deaths, and sometimes donations, available to us through historic newspaper records, to try and piece together his story. This often doesn’t build a very detailed or personal view of individual lives, but sometimes enough details are recorded to give an impression of someone’s life.

Wuzerah first appears in historical records by name in 1858, when he charged Goordeen, another Indian man employed by Cracroft Wilson, with larceny (Lyttelton Times 13/03/1858: 4). Drury (2016: 29) notes that Wuzerah was the first Muslim man involved in a court case in New Zealand, indicated by the article reporting that Wuzerah and Goordeen were sworn into the court on an English translation of the Qur’an (spelt ‘Koran’ in the article). Wuzerah brought a case against Goordeen (also spelled Goorden in the same article), another servant of Wilson’s who attempted to steal his purse and Mindia’s necklace while they slept. Wuzerah tied up Goorden and took him to the Magistrate’s Court in Lyttelton on a charge of larceny. A Mr P. Ashton acted as interpreter for both Wuzerah and Goorden, since neither of them spoke English (Lyttelton Times 13/03/1858: 4). The article states that Cracroft Wilson and his overseer Mr Irvine were called on the side of the prisoner Goorden, and that his account differed greatly from Wuzerah’s account under examination. Goorden claimed to have gone to Wuzerah’s house for a light and woke Mindia to ask permission. The charge against Goorden was dismissed, and it was assumed by the court that the charge was laid against Goorden for an old grudge between him and Wuzerah. It must have been some grudge that made Wuzerah capture Goorden, walk him over the Port Hills to Lyttelton, and pursue a charge against him in a court system where he did not speak the official language, with his employer advocating for the accused.

Wuzerah next appeared in the historical record for a 10-shilling donation to the ‘Indian Relief Fund’, which was established to provide aid to British colonists that were affected by the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857 (Lyttelton Times 8/5/1858; Drury, 2016: 35). He was identified as “a Mahommedan” in the article, which could be read as either a point of interest or an identifier in place of a last name. A search of other newspaper articles in the same years referencing ‘Mahomedan’, ‘Mahometan’ and ‘Mussulman’ show othering and racist narratives where Muslims were framed as a foreign other, and Wuzerah’s identifier here likely continues in this vein. We have another blog on the Sepoy Mutiny, which you can read more of here. Wuzerah’s donation to the Indian Relief Fund is an indication that he disagreed with the revolt, or possibly as an expression of support for his employer, who was in India at the time working with British forces to put down the revolt (Ogilvie, 2009: 235). Wuzerah’s choice to donate to the fund, and to include his name on the donation list can be read as an act of agency. Cracroft Wilson was not known for generous wages, and Wuzerah’s choice to publicly donate money to the fund indicates that he used resources available to him to publicly express his views.

Donation list to the Indian Relief Fund. The Indian Relief Fund was created to support British colonists who suffered under the Sepoy revolt, and Wuzerah’s donation here likely indicates disapproval with the mutiny. Image: Lyttelton Times 8/5/1858: 5.

Wuzerah returned to the courts in 1859 on a charge of larceny issued by his employer (Lyttelton Times 9/7/1859: 5; Lyttelton Times 3/9/1859: 4; Lyttelton Times 7/9/1859: 4). Cracroft Wilson charged Wuzerah with stealing tools and a copper boiler from his estate. Phillip Ashton once again interpreted for Wuzerah, and two other witnesses spoke on his behalf: Gunga Ram and Bhowanee Singh. Cracroft Wilson accused Wuzerah of stealing multiple tools and the copper boiler, and located these items in Wuzerah’s house after it was searched. Wuzerah was recorded as saying the following “The things are all yours, take them and forgive me” (Lyttelton Times 3/9/1859: 4). Phillip Ashton, when asked about this wording explained that this was a figurative form of apology used in India rather than an explicit admission of guilt. Here the Lyttelton Times notes that “several other witnesses were called whose evidence was of a conflicting character” but “The hour at which the report reached us precludes us giving any further details” (Lyttelton Times 3/9/1859: 4).

Both Gunga Ram and Bhowanee Singh testified that the tools were in Wuzerah’s possession before they left India, and that the boiler had been given to Wuzerah by Mrs Wilson more than four years beforehand. Mrs Wilson and others of the estate denied this claim (Lyttelton Times 7/9/1859: 4) The court ruled in Wilson’s favour and found Wuzerah guilty. A small note at the bottom of this report notes that a second charge of larceny was brought against Wuzerah, but “the case was of so trifling a character that we reserve our available space for a more interesting matter”. This indicates that Wilson evidently bought multiple charges against Wuzerah. If it seems a little odd that man as powerful and influential as Cracroft Wilson would bring multiple charges against a man under his employ for supposedly stealing a copper boiler and tools which he used as part of his employment, it is. Regardless of whether Wuzerah was telling the truth, and two witnesses speaking on his behalf definitely support this, Cracroft Wilson had the means and ability to handle this matter internally on his estate. Instead, he dragged Wuzerah through a months long court process, which Cracroft Wilson knew would result in publication of Wuzerah’s name with the offence, and then won the case against Wuzerah. Cracroft Wilson made an example of Wuzerah and punished whatever perceived transgression with institutional power structures.

The Old Stone House was built to house Cracroft Wilson’s Indian workers, and it’s possible Wuzerah lived here at one stage. This photo shows Old Stone House in a neglected state with farm implements outside, Cashmere, Christchurch. Williams, Edgar Richard, 1891-1983: Negatives, lantern slides, stereographs, colour transparencies, monochrome prints, photographic ephemera. Ref: 1/4-097560-F. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/30634110

The next record of the Wuzerah family is a coroner’s inquest into the death of Pero Wuzerah (Lyttelton Times 5/11/1862: 4). Pero slipped crossing a footbridge over the Heathcote and drowned in the river. The article notes that another boy fell into the river at the same spot within the same week but was rescued by his father. Interestingly, Pero Wuzerah is referred to as “the son of one of the Mahomedan natives of India employed by Cracroft Wilson” whereas the other child is referred to as “a son of Mr Jas. T. Fisher”. This difference in identification between Wuzerah and Mr Fisher is a clear contrast: Wuzerah is referred to as a nameless employee of Cracroft Wilson, whereas Fisher is identified by name and honorific.

The next mention of Wuzerah involves yet another court experience for charges issued by Cracroft Wilson. Cracroft Wilson brought charges against Wuzerah for the cost of £38 9s 3d in 1873 (Press 8/5/1873: 3). The reason for this quite hefty charge is indicated in a Star article months later, which recounts a meeting held by Cracroft Wilson for his constituents as the member for the Heathcote District in the House of Representatives (Star 21/10/1873: 2). A tax of £1 per household had been issued for education purposes, which Wuzerah had apparently neglected to pay. Cracroft Wilson, as the advocate for this particular tax, brought charges against Wuzerah for non-payment of this tax. Cracroft Wilson tells his constituents that Wuzerah, identified in this article only as ‘the Mahomedan’, said in Hindostanee [sic] that “he would not pay for nothing and that he would therefore send his boys to school”. The implication for Wuzerah’s statement is that if he had to pay the tax, then he would be sending his sons to school to benefit from that education funding. Cracroft Wilson, known for paying remarkably low wages, publicly charged Wuzerah with a hefty £38 fine for failing to pay an education tax of £1 that he politically championed. This charge by Cracroft Wilson is not only hefty and punitive but used here to make a political statement to reinforce Cracroft Wilson’s political convictions.

Cracroft Wilson was a Member of the House of Representatives and heavily involved in politics. One of his more controversial acts was the 1865 Masters and Servants Bill, designed to provide legislative guidelines  for disputes between masters and servants. Unsurprisingly, given Cracroft Wilson’s wealth and status as well as it being well known that he employed Indian servants, he was heavily critiqued for introducing legislation that would personally benefit him. In this satirical comic the master is likely Cracroft Wilson. Image: Punch in Canterbury (Periodical), 1865. Punch in Canterbury: What may come of the Masters and Servants Bill. Original question. “That a disobedient servant be imprisoned.” Mr Punch’s Amendment. “That a master, if he misconduct himself, shall be liable to hard labour.” Punch in Canterbury, 19 August,1865. Ref: A-315-967. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/22336950

Wuzerah was evidently familiar with the court system following his initial experiences, and brought charges against a William Harges in 1869, and a Lane in 1885 (Press 8/10/1869: 3; Star 7/10/1885: 3). Wuzerah was charged by a J. Sheriff in 1875 and a return charge was issued by Lane in 1885 (Lyttelton Times 18/11/1875: 3; Lyttelton Times 22/10/1885: 3). The only charges named are those to and from Lane, issued by Wuzerah for cartage, and returned by Lane for repairs to a dray (Star 7/10/1885: 3; Lyttelton Times 22/10/1885: 3). For every charge Wuzerah was involved in, brought by him or accused, the court finds in his opponent almost every time, except for the charge brought by J. Sheriff, where Cracroft Wilson speaks in support of Wuzerah. Appearances in court were not unusual in the 19th century, but Wuzerah didn’t speak English very well. Taking people to court in an unfamiliar language is a pretty bold move, especially when the legal system didn’t often rule in his favour.

Wuzerah also went to court for his youngest son Noora. Noora (written as “Noer alias Noorwa”) was charged for putting stones on railway tracks, which could have resulted in a serious accident (Star 24/6/1874: 2). Wuzerah testified before the court that he had already punished the boy, and that he would pay a £20 bond as security to ensure the boy’s good conduct in the future (Star 24/6/1874: 2). There is a ‘recognizance of the peace’ file under the name Wuzeera [Wuzerah] in 1874, possibly for this same bond payment (; Drury, 2016: 32).

As previously mentioned, Wuzerah was part of the workforce employed by Cracroft Wilson to dig the historic drains network that was required to drain large sections of Cashmere (Ogilvie, 2009: 235). An advertisement in the Lyttelton Times called for tenders to deepen the Cashmere River from “Wuzeerah’s Drain to Promontory Bridge (Lyttelton Times 11/05/1877: 3). It Is likely that Wuzerah was part of the Indian workforce employed by Cracroft Wilson to dig this drain network, hence his name associated with a portion of the drain. Mero Wuzerah was injured in a dray accident in 1879 and was treated in Christchurch Hospital (Lyttelton Times 9/9/1879: 4). Mero must have made a full recovery, for he and his father were involved in an incident in 1886 where they were accused of “illegally rescuing cattle” from a ranger to the Halswell Road Board. The charge was dismissed since the ranger didn’t produce identification and neither Wuzerah nor Mero kept the cattle (Star 9/12/1886: 3). A return charge was issued to the ranger for assaulting Wuzerah, but this charge was also dismissed (Star 9/12/1886: 3). It’s not clear whether violence was a common part of Wuzerah’s life based on the information available, but the court ruling against him in charges certainly seemed to be.

Wuzerah spent his later years on a cottage on the corner of Cashmere and Valley Roads, which was provided by Cracroft Wilson’s estate following his death in 1881 (Drury, 2016: 32; Ogilvie, 1978: 132)

Port Hills of Christchurch map with ‘Indians Cottage’ and ‘Old Stone House’ marked with circles. The ‘Indians Cottage’ marked on the map is probably not Wuzerah’s, as his reported house location is shown with a yellow circle. Image: Ogilvie, 1978: 132.

Wuzerah appears to have run a cartage business with a team of bullocks following release from Cracroft Wilson’s employment (Drury, 2016: 32-33; Ogilvie, 2009: 238). Wuzerah apparently favoured two bullocks named ‘Baldy’ and ‘Smuggler’, and James Sutherland recalled that when asked why he always used the same pair he replied “They go quick run it” (Ogilvie, 2009: 238). The Star reported that Wuzerah was one of a team of bullock drivers employed to cart stone into Christchurch for the construction of the Christchurch Cathedral (Star 1/5/1902: 3).

Christchurch Cathedral under construction, late 1879-early 1880. The stone visible in the foreground was locally sourced and transported by bullock teams run by folk like Wuzerah. Ref: 1/2-022786-F. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/23063747

Wuzerah passed away from heart disease on 30 April 1902, and his death notice was published across New Zealand as far as Auckland, Otago, and Wanganui (Press 2/5/1902: 6; Star 1/5/1902: 3; Auckland Star 2/5/1902: 5; Otago Witness 7/5/1902: 30; Wanganui Herald 2/5/1902: 2). A small memorial to Wuzerah and another Indian servant Kulloo, who died the same year, was installed in Sydenham Cemetery by the Cracroft Wilson Family (Star 22/8/1902: 3; Drury, 2016: 34). The memorial was broken by vandals and restored by the Cracroft Community Centre between 1985 and the early 2000s (Press 2/12/1985: 17; Press 18/7/2009: D9; Drury, 2016: 34).


Wuzerah’s death notice in the Star (Wuzerah’s name is spelt Bezire in this article). Source: Star 1/5/1902: 3.

This blog may have given the impression that Wuzerah was a relatively unknown individual from the 19th century, but that’s not quite true. A quick Google search of his name will return 832 results, and his experiences are cited in nearly every publication on the history of Muslim settlement in New Zealand. Wuzerah’s identity was treated as a point of interest by his contemporaries, evident in the creation of a memorial for both Wuzerah and Kulloo in the Sydenham Cemetery, and the publication of his death notice in newspapers across New Zealand. This focus is continued by the restoration and repairs to Wuzerah and Kulloo’s gravestone in the 1980s by the Cracroft Community Centre (Press 27/11/1985: 59; 4/3/1986: 8). Wuzerah was the subject of academic interest in the 20th and 21st century as the first documented Muslim living in New Zealand (which isn’t quite true either, see Drury, 2016: 17-18 and Singh, 2016: 65-69). There was a renewed media interest in early Muslim experiences in Canterbury following the Christchurch terror attacks in 2019, and Wuzerah’s story was retold to indicate historical experiences of Muslims in Canterbury (you can read a couple of examples here and here).

From the 19th century to the present day, Wuzerah’s legacy is drawn solely from his identity as the first Muslim settler to live in New Zealand. Readers of the newspaper clippings and snippets of his life might get a sense that he had a hard life in Canterbury as the first Muslim settler, as one of very few Indian employees to stay on following the completion of his indenture period. Wuzerah was treated unfairly by his employer, he was mistreated by the legal system, newspapers spelt his name wrong constantly, even in his death notice. But these mentions of Wuzerah during and after his lifetime were utilised by newspapers, community groups, media outlets and other platforms (this blog included) because he is known as the first Muslim to settle in New Zealand, rather than any choices he made or actions he took of his own volition. Potentially the only record available that indicates Wuzerah’s personal views or choices is the donation record to the Indian Relief Fund in 1858, which either indicated support for his employer in India, or disapproval of the Sepoy Revolt. Other people have made choices about Wuzerah’s story and have created a significant legacy around his identity. Cracroft Wilson chose to make an example of Wuzerah during his lifetime to reinforce his status as a landowner and as a politician, and Wuzerah’s story continued to be used as an example of early Muslim experiences long after his death. Cracroft Wilson had the opportunity and choices to create his own legacy in the colonisation of Canterbury, which is embedded in almost every aspect of the history of Christchurch. If Wuzerah had choice and opportunity available to him, perhaps he would have chosen to present his legacy differently.

Photograph of Wuzerah and Kulloo’s restored grave. Image: Alistair McGowan, 2023. 

Neda Bawden

References

Drury, A. M. 2016. Once Were Mahometans: Muslims in the South Island of New Zealand, mid-19th to late 20th century, with special reference to Canterbury. Masters Thesis, University of Waikato.

Ogilvie, G. 1978. The Port Hills of Christchurch. Wellington, Sydney, London: A. H. & A. W. Reed.

Ogilvie, G. 2009. The Port Hills of Christchurch. Christchurch. N.Z.: Philips & King.

Singh, H. 2016. From Guru Nanak to New Zealand: Mobility in the Sikh Tradition

George Gould’s Cookham House

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I always think that historical archaeology is a discipline that readily invokes feelings of nostalgia and sentimentality. The familiarity of the material culture makes it particularly easy to romanticise artefacts, to imagine oneself in the past. Shoes, in particular, are an artefact that lend themselves to these types of thoughts and feelings. It may be because of the adage ‘to put yourself in someone else’s shoes’, but when holding a pair of shoes from the 1860s it is easy to wonder about who might have worn them. Were these shoes worn by a settler when they climbed the Bridle Path and stood at the top of the Port Hills looking out over their new home for the first time? Were they chosen for their sturdiness, given the boggy and haphazard roads of early Christchurch? Did the wearer sigh in winter as they pulled them on and went out into the cold and wet? Did they polish them every night to keep them looking their best? The personal nature of shoes- the individual taste in style, the practicality of design, the wear that they suffered over their lifetime- provide a tangible link to a time and place that we can only imagine what living in was actually like.

Shoes are a common find on our archaeological sites in Christchurch. They show up in most of our domestic assemblages indicating that once they had been outgrown, or worn past the point of repair, the wearer would throw them away. It is these shoes in particular that evoke the feelings described above. We often know who was living at the site, meaning that we can put a name to the wearer of the shoes, and flesh out some of the details of their life. We can metaphorically ‘walk a mile in their shoes’ when we analyse them.

A pair of shoes from a 19th century Armagh Street archaeological site, what do these shoes tell us about the person that wore them? Image: C. Watson.

The shoe assemblage that I’m writing about today is slightly different. These shoes were never sold, never had the opportunity to be worn by an early Christchurch settler. They never made it out of the shop, and instead were thrown out as discarded stock. But that does not mean that they don’t have their own story to tell. It just means that it’s a slightly different story, one about commerce and business. And at the centre of that story is George Gould, one of 19th century Christchurch’s wealthiest men.

George Gould, the owner of our shoe assemblage, but not the wearer. Image: Press, 25/10/1930: 19. 

George Gould was born in April 1823, at Hambleden Lock, Oxfordshire. He came to New Zealand in 1850, arriving first in the North Island but shortly after coming to Canterbury. His house and store that he built in Armagh Street was the first wooden building finished in Christchurch. From May of 1851, he advertised that he had opened a general store. This general store was to be the foundation of Gould’s wealth, yet it was not easy running a store in 1850s Christchurch. All goods arriving into Lyttelton had to be transported to Christchurch, and with the tunnel not yet built and a carriage costing 30s to 40s, Gould reportedly carried many of his loads of stock on his back over the hill. Gould went into partnership with Grosvenor Miles in 1855, moving to a new store in Colombo Street, where the shop sold a range of goods including shoes and clothing. In 1859, he split from his partnership with Miles. Miles was to continue the general store on the western side of Colombo Street, while Gould would move to a new store on the eastern side of Colombo Street and take the shoe and clothing portion of the business with him. Gould named his shop Cookham House, and it was so successful that by the end of 1862 he had already outgrown the building and moved to new store further along Colombo Street. Gould’s business was threatened when a fire broke out in 1866, damaging his shop and his stock. Gould reportedly responded to the fire by writing out an order for new stock as he watched his building burn to ensure that it would make the mail ship to England the next morning.

In addition to Gould’s shoe shop, he had a chemists shop and he was a large rural landowner. He was the first to export wheat from New Zealand to London and at one time was the largest exporter of wool from Canterbury (Cyclopedia Company, 1903). It was Gould’s agricultural interests that supplied most of his wealth, but his various business interests complimented each other. He had a prominent roles in the Christchurch Gas Company and the New Zealand Shipping Company, as well as other banking, insurance, and building societies. All of these business interests made Gould a wealthy man. He built his large mansion on the corner of Bealey Ave and Springfield Road in 1866, naming it Hambledon House after his birth place (sadly this building did not survive the earthquakes). He was a generous benefactor to the Canterbury Museum, Christs College, the Wesleyan Church, the YMCA, the Canterbury A & P Association, and numerous other Christchurch societies and working mens groups. Gould, in many ways, epitomised the ideal Victorian colonist. He started with very little capital, but with hard work and good judgement was successful, and then shared the fruits of that success with those who were less fortunate. The eulogies written in the newspapers following his death in 1889 focus on this generosity and it is hard to find a bad word written against him.

Gould’s 1851 house and shop, the first wooden building in Christchurch. Image: Christchurch City Libraries. 

10 May 1851 advertisement by George Gould advertising the opening of his general store. Image: Lyttelton Times, 10/05/1851: 1. 

So, what do Gould’s shoes say about him? We came across Gould during our excavations at the new Court Theatre site. Gould’s 1859-1862 shoe shop, Cookham House, was located on the corner of Gloucester Street and Colombo Street. North of where the store would have stood, we found a pit that contained a large assemblage of shoes. A total of 2089 fragments of shoe leather were found in this pit, with these representing at least 60 individual shoes (probably more). The shoes were in a condensed layer in the pit, indicating that they had most likely been thrown out in a single dumping event. The 1862 map of Christchurch shows that Gould’s original store had been extended after Gould moved to his new shop and the next occupant took over the building, with this extension capping the pit. From this, we know that the shoes have to have been deposited by September 1862 at the latest. This means that the shoe assemblage is able to give us a good insight into the types and styles of shoes that Gould was selling in the early 1860s.

The location of our pit feature, indicated by the red arrow. Image: Fooks, 1862. 

The original Cookham House located on the corner of Colombo Street and Gloucester Street. This photograph is from 1881 when then store was A. Gee’s Confectionery shop. Image: Wheeler and Son Studio, 1881.

The pit mid-excavation. The shoes were in a concentrated and dense layer near the base of the pit. Image: A. Kelly.

During our excavation of the pit we observed that several of the shoes had been thrown away intact, with the fill of this layer of the pit mainly consisting of shoes stacked ontop of each other. Image: A. Kelly.

A complete boot from the pit. Image: A. Kelly.

The shoes post-excavation and ready to be sorted and analysed. Image: C. Watson.

Looking at the styles of the shoes that were deposited in the pit, while there was some variation, most of the shoes seemed to be repeats of the same styles. Men’s derby work boots with a square toe were common. Most of these had reinforcing on the ball of sole in the form of hobnails, as well as heel plates on the heel. Women’s or youth’s boots, in contrast, seemed to by mostly oxford style boots with a more round toe. Some of these had heel plates as reinforcing, but no hobnails on the sole. The derby and oxford boots dominated the assemblage, but six bluchers, four slippers, and four Wellington boots were also identified. It is interesting to note the gender divisions in the assemblage, indicating that men and women were choosing to wear different styles of shoes. The reinforcing seen in the men’s shoes suggests that there was a practical reason behind the choice in different styles, with men requiring harder wearing boots a reflection of the gendered division of labour in the 19th century. But the more square toes of the men’s derby boots, and the oxford style of the women’s boots, indicates that there was also a stylistic element of men’s and women’s shoes looking different from one and other.

Some of the different styles of shoes found in the pit. Top: upper and sole from a men’s derby working boot. The sole has been reinforced with hobnails. Middle: a slipper and a wellington boot. These styles of shoes are not commonly seen in Christchurch archaeological assemblages. Bottom: blucher boot and women/youth’s oxford boot. Image: C. Watson.

Most of the boots were hand sewn using a welt. This is quite a different manufacture method to what is normally seen in the Christchurch archaeological assemblage. The majority of boots and shoes found in Christchurch were made using methods of vertical attachment. This was when the upper was attached to the sole using a nail or a wooden peg. The use of a different manufacture method to what is typically seen in Christchurch 19th century shoes, is thought to reflect that these shoes were imported.

Seven of the shoes from the feature had the initials “J B” incised on the insole. J. Burrows and Son was a shoe manufacturer based in Cookham, England, and in operation from at least 1852 (Slater, 1852: 20). The company was still in operation in 1883, but appears to have ceased operations by 1895 (Historical Cookham, 2023). Descriptions of the company indicate that they were manufacturing boots and shoes for the wholesale market and that they were a major employer in Cookham, with many in the village employed in their factory. Advertisements in the newspapers indicate that Gould was importing boots from Burrow and Sons and it is likely that Gould’s Cookham House was so named for Cookham in England, with Cookham boots being well known (Lyttelton Times, 6/10/1860: 2).

The various JB marks that were seen on the shoes from the feature. Maker’s marks aren’t common on shoes found in Christchurch archaeological features, so to get so many in one assemblage was really unusual. Image: C. Watson.

Gould’s advertisements indicate that he was importing shoes in large quantities. In July of 1859 he advertised that he currently had 3,500 pairs of shoes in stock and had another 3,500 arriving (Lyttelton Times, 27/07/1859:6). In October 1860 he advertised that he had 6,000 pairs of shoes recently arrived and available for purchase (Lyttelton Times, 3/10/1860: 5). In July of 1861 he advertised that he had 6,500 pairs of shoes recently arrived and another 7,500 pairs arriving (Lyttelton Times, 6/7/1861: 5). Given that the population of Christchurch was only about 3,000 people in 1862 (Christchurch City Council, 2023), it is unlikely that Gould was importing stock only to sell at his shop. Instead, given the quantities that Gould was importing, it seems most likely that Gould was probably selling to other shoe shops and general stores in Christchurch and wider Canterbury and New Zealand, acting as a middleman, so to speak, between the shoemakers in Cookham, England, and the shoe shops in New Zealand. While Gould likely had shoes available for purchase at the Cookham House store, it does not seem possible that the shop could have a stock turnover of at least 7,000 shoes a year selling just to off the street customers with Christchurch’s population at this time.

One of Gould’s advertisements stating his current stock levels. Image: Lyttelton Times, 6/7/1861: 5.

Searches of newspaper advertisements reveal that there were at least eight other shoe shops operating in Christchurch and Lyttelton during the 1859-1862 period. Six of these appear to be small business cobblers, working either alone or with a small staff, making shoes and boots from scratch and offering repairs (S. Webb, W. Holmes, John Bennington, T. Yates, W. Walker, Joseph Suckling). These small business cobblers do not appear to have advertised extensively, and it is likely that there were more operating than is listed here.  The two other businesses appear to have been larger and similar to Gould’s Cookham House. Henry Moss’s Monster Clothing Hall sold a large range of clothing and imported boots and shoes, while S. Goodman’s Boot and Shoe Warehouse also advertised that they sold imported shoes and boots. Goodman and Moss seem to have been Gould’s main competition at this time, although Moss’s business seems to have been more focused on the clothing side, with shoes and boots complimenting the clothing sales. Henry Moss opened on London Street, Lyttelton in 1858, with a Christchurch branch opening on High Street in 1862, while S. Goodman opened his Colombo Street business in 1860. This makes Gould’s business the earliest, with Gould advertising imported boots at his first store back in 1851, suggesting that the others may have observed Gould’s success and opened up in competition with him.

The main advantage of importing shoes, rather than manufacturing, appears to have been the price point at which they could sell shoes to the customer. This difference in business model, between manufacturing on site and importing pre-made shoes, is seen in the Christchurch shoe shop businesses beyond 1862. The difference is highlighted in two advertisements from an 1884 edition of the Star. John Goodman’s shoe shop, Cheap Boot and Shoe Depot, was a successor of S. Goodman’s Boot and Shoe Warehouse operating under the same business model of importing shoes from England. Goodman’s advertisement, pictured below, highlights cost as being the main reason why customers should buy from him- he advertised the prices of his shoes and claimed he had the cheapest shoes in Christchurch (and he literally called his business ‘Cheap Boot and Shoe Depot’).

Goodman’s advertisement, hilighting price being the main selling point for buying from him. Image: Star, 11/3/1884: 1. 

Alfred Crook’s advertisement, located just above Goodman’s in the newspaper, is a direct contrast:

I- Alfred Crook- do hereby confess that I do not possess the required knowledge to enable myself to promise to perform the extraordinary act of selling my Goods at Less than Cost Price, or even at Cost Price. I do NOT boast of making those Wonderful Sweeping Reductions in the Price of my Goods, to mislead and to mizzle my fellow working men; but I have sufficient impudence in myself to assert that I make my Goods of such high class quality that they by far EXCEL THOSE THAT ARE SOLD ELSEWHERE. Remember! I Manufacture ALL my Own Goods, and do Not make Trash; therefore, I challenge all others at the game, and to relieve myself of the trouble to resort to the customary Blowing System, I respectfully invite you to visit Cheapside Shop.

Alfred Crook’s very pointed advertisement, making it clear that he thought cheap imported boots were ‘trash’. Image: Star, 11/3/1884: 1. 

The very pointed wording of Alfred Crook’s advertisement shows the difficulties that local cobblers faced when trying to compete with businesses importing shoes from overseas. Ultimately, given the number of cobblers making shoes from scratch today, it is obvious which business model succeeded.

When considering the Gould’s shoe assemblage, an important question is why were the shoes thrown out in the first place? While shoes and boots should have travelled reasonably well, not being as fragile as ceramic and glass, there was still the potential for them to be damaged during the journey. In 1862 Mr S. C. Philips advertised that he was selling at auction 136 pairs of boots that had been damaged by sea water (New Zealander, 13/09/1862: 1). It was possible that the shoes disposed of represent stock that was damaged by salt water during the journey from England and weren’t in a saleable condition. There is also the possibility that the discarded shoes may represent surplus stock that remained unsold and was thrown out when new stock arrived. Gould’s main reason for moving to a new premise in 1862 was that his business had outgrown the store on the corner of Colombo and Gloucester, and that he needed more space. In a similar vein, there is the possibility that the shoes represent an order that was never claimed. If Gould was acting as the agent between Cookham in England and Christchurch retailers, then it is likely that the local businesses would have placed orders with Gould. If one of the businesses that placed the order went bankrupt, or could not pay for the order for some reason, then Gould may have chosen to throw it out rather than try to sell it, possibly for the storage space reasons already mentioned.

So, we return to the question of what do Gould’s shoes say about him? I think the main thing that they say is that while he may have owned a shoe shop, Gould was a businessman, not a cobbler. The relative completeness of the assemblage, the lack of any shoe-making off cuts, the presence of the “J B” Burrow and Sons mark, the presence of multiples of the same style of shoe, all speak to that the assemblage represents imported and unsold Cookham House stock. And that Gould could throw out so many shoes, speaks to the success of his business, that he could take the loss of whatever reason was behind the discard and not need to try and recover the cost.

We find hints of stories like Gould’s all the time in the archaeology of 19th century Christchurch. Most of the artefacts that we excavate are examples of the commercial relationships that existed between Christchurch and the rest of the world. But with Gould’s shoe assemblage, we can put ourselves in his shoes, so to speak, and imagine what it would be like running a business in Christchurch in 1851 when a year could pass between placing an order and the stock arriving. Would you pay for a carriage or carry deliveries on your back from Lyttelton? What would you do if your stock arrived mouldy and damaged, or burnt in a fire? And, if you were incredibly successful and grew to be very rich, would you be as generous with your money as George Gould was?

Clara Watson

References

Lyttelton Times, 1851-1914. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/ (accessed April 2021).

Press, 1861-1945. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/ (accessed April 2021).

Slater. 1852. Slater’s Directory of Berkshire, 1852. Slater, Berkshire.

Star, 1868-1920. [online] Available at: <https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/> Accessed April 2021.