the golden wire
The following story is about the original telephone in Rangiwahia. The written story was recently found in an envelope sent to Joy Bielski (nee Rose) by James Waugh. Joy's husband was Syd Bielski, one of Martin and Mary Bielski's grandson's.
The Golden Wire. (Written by James F. Waugh in 1970)
Rangiwahia, Mangoira Gorge in the south, Colenso's route over the Ruahine Range to Hawke's Bay in the north is the location of this story.
All the country, serviced from Rangiwahia in the early day, was bounded by the Mangoira, Oroua and Kawhatau rivers and cut through by the Mangawharariki, Kiwitea and Pourangaki rivers, all in deep gorges, 500-600 feet deep in places with perpendicular papa cliffs.
There was no metal on the roads to many of the farms, which were only accessible by packhorse, and then only in the summer months. The isolation was terrific, especially for the women and children. The grocer sent his order-man once a month over this area for orders, and it took him about three weeks to get around on horseback. Then teams and packhorses delivered the goods to lonely settlers homes, bush fellers' camps etc.
The March or April order had to do for four to five months, no access once the winter set in. In approx 1910-1911 the Rangiwahia grocer conceived the idea that a telephone system would give him more orders and the save the cost of the order man going out. In the first place, there was a small charge for the phones, and at first, people shied at the 5p per year. Eventually, there were just on 100 families connected up on five lines, with 20 phones approximately, all of which were connected to the store.
It must have been a job for someone operating this exchange. Before those phones, the isolation got on people's minds, and they had to be taken out. Then with sickness, birth of babies and accidents, those phones soon became a lifeline for the whole district. It was a newspaper, maternity nurse, general advice for younger mothers and last, but not least, a way of talking to your girl late at night. We soon learned, however, there were attentive listeners to every conversation.
People today with television and wireless phones, etc., cannot envisage how cut off we people were in those days. We used to put on concerts over the phone on winter evenings; each family contributing an item, while others took turns at listening - two earphones to each phone.
Then the 1914 war started and the Post Office undertook to send word of any casualties belonging to us. Those were sad times for our parents and neighbours. 1918 saw the end of the war and every one of those 100 phones had a woman talking on it. We reckoned the wire got hot!
For a few years, the lines kept up pretty well, but then the snowstorms, bushfires, windfalls, etc., took their toll. But we had learned to value that wire, and if it went dead, then the menfolk went out, found the break and mended it in rain, hail or snow. Sounds simple, but our nearest neighbour was five miles from us. The wire spanned on one side, mostly standing bush and a ridge 3000 feet spanning numerous ravines, where it was so dark, even at mid-day, the moreporks couldn't see!! Luckily the line didn't give so much trouble in the shelter of the bush.
Then there was the humourous side of it as well. Each phone had a separate call based on Morse code, but if an essential bit of news were expected, there would be a lot of gentle clicks - the listeners! The police had nothing on us for tapping a wire.
There were ways of trapping these persistent listeners. Mrs So & So said, "So & so, did she fancy her saying that". Then the indignant listener would pipe up, "That's a lie. I didn't!” My father being the local plumber erected the phone wires, because he could solder the joints. I was just old enough to go with him sometimes. The upper Kawhatau was one of the isolated places we went. The station homestead had no tanks, but an old Douglas pump and a well for water. Come lunchtime, and the cook had to boil up. Of course, old Nosey Parker had to go to see this pump work. The cook talked to the pump, "Come on old girl, time to boil up. Give us some milk - half a billy will do." With a few strokes of the handle, he had the milk. " That's enough milk, water now for the tea". Up came the bucket of water. It took me years to work out that unbeknown to me, he had primed the pump with milk.
Now to conclude this telephone story. It started about 1910, and this is almost 1980, spanning 70 years. My son took me back there this year, and it was most interesting to see the changes. The roads were all metalled and the main ones tar sealed. Not nearly so many people, the land had been brought up by farmers and in larger holdings. All sheep and cattle now; the cheese and dairy factories have all closed down. The old houses and huts have mostly gone and, nice comfortable residences take their place. The four-roomed house my grandfather built 100 years ago still stands, built of pit-sawn totara.
The advent of the motorcar, tractors, bulldozers and top-dressing planes has changed farmers' lives. It used to be two days by coach or on horseback. Now it takes one hour by car to Taihape or Feilding. Life is much easier now. But I think we were just as happy in the early days.
The Golden Wire. (Written by James F. Waugh in 1970)
Rangiwahia, Mangoira Gorge in the south, Colenso's route over the Ruahine Range to Hawke's Bay in the north is the location of this story.
All the country, serviced from Rangiwahia in the early day, was bounded by the Mangoira, Oroua and Kawhatau rivers and cut through by the Mangawharariki, Kiwitea and Pourangaki rivers, all in deep gorges, 500-600 feet deep in places with perpendicular papa cliffs.
There was no metal on the roads to many of the farms, which were only accessible by packhorse, and then only in the summer months. The isolation was terrific, especially for the women and children. The grocer sent his order-man once a month over this area for orders, and it took him about three weeks to get around on horseback. Then teams and packhorses delivered the goods to lonely settlers homes, bush fellers' camps etc.
The March or April order had to do for four to five months, no access once the winter set in. In approx 1910-1911 the Rangiwahia grocer conceived the idea that a telephone system would give him more orders and the save the cost of the order man going out. In the first place, there was a small charge for the phones, and at first, people shied at the 5p per year. Eventually, there were just on 100 families connected up on five lines, with 20 phones approximately, all of which were connected to the store.
It must have been a job for someone operating this exchange. Before those phones, the isolation got on people's minds, and they had to be taken out. Then with sickness, birth of babies and accidents, those phones soon became a lifeline for the whole district. It was a newspaper, maternity nurse, general advice for younger mothers and last, but not least, a way of talking to your girl late at night. We soon learned, however, there were attentive listeners to every conversation.
People today with television and wireless phones, etc., cannot envisage how cut off we people were in those days. We used to put on concerts over the phone on winter evenings; each family contributing an item, while others took turns at listening - two earphones to each phone.
Then the 1914 war started and the Post Office undertook to send word of any casualties belonging to us. Those were sad times for our parents and neighbours. 1918 saw the end of the war and every one of those 100 phones had a woman talking on it. We reckoned the wire got hot!
For a few years, the lines kept up pretty well, but then the snowstorms, bushfires, windfalls, etc., took their toll. But we had learned to value that wire, and if it went dead, then the menfolk went out, found the break and mended it in rain, hail or snow. Sounds simple, but our nearest neighbour was five miles from us. The wire spanned on one side, mostly standing bush and a ridge 3000 feet spanning numerous ravines, where it was so dark, even at mid-day, the moreporks couldn't see!! Luckily the line didn't give so much trouble in the shelter of the bush.
Then there was the humourous side of it as well. Each phone had a separate call based on Morse code, but if an essential bit of news were expected, there would be a lot of gentle clicks - the listeners! The police had nothing on us for tapping a wire.
There were ways of trapping these persistent listeners. Mrs So & So said, "So & so, did she fancy her saying that". Then the indignant listener would pipe up, "That's a lie. I didn't!” My father being the local plumber erected the phone wires, because he could solder the joints. I was just old enough to go with him sometimes. The upper Kawhatau was one of the isolated places we went. The station homestead had no tanks, but an old Douglas pump and a well for water. Come lunchtime, and the cook had to boil up. Of course, old Nosey Parker had to go to see this pump work. The cook talked to the pump, "Come on old girl, time to boil up. Give us some milk - half a billy will do." With a few strokes of the handle, he had the milk. " That's enough milk, water now for the tea". Up came the bucket of water. It took me years to work out that unbeknown to me, he had primed the pump with milk.
Now to conclude this telephone story. It started about 1910, and this is almost 1980, spanning 70 years. My son took me back there this year, and it was most interesting to see the changes. The roads were all metalled and the main ones tar sealed. Not nearly so many people, the land had been brought up by farmers and in larger holdings. All sheep and cattle now; the cheese and dairy factories have all closed down. The old houses and huts have mostly gone and, nice comfortable residences take their place. The four-roomed house my grandfather built 100 years ago still stands, built of pit-sawn totara.
The advent of the motorcar, tractors, bulldozers and top-dressing planes has changed farmers' lives. It used to be two days by coach or on horseback. Now it takes one hour by car to Taihape or Feilding. Life is much easier now. But I think we were just as happy in the early days.