More Info →Oral Interview - Ray Carter

Oral Interview – Ray Carter QSM, May 2005
Interviewee – Ray Carter
Interviewer – Ian Johnstone
Transcribed by – Leanne Hickman

Contents

Oral Interview – Ray Carter QSM 2

Napier Earthquake at 3-years old. Was missing for 10 days and discovered at Palmerston North Showgrounds p3
Working at Barraud and Abraham p7
Wrestling p8
Started Boys High School mentioning Fred Hollows p9
Running with Harriers and marathons. Discusses Lydiard, Halberg, Snell and Yvette Williams p10
Second World War years in Palmerston North p12
Attending World Scout Jamboree in France, 1947. Known as Jamboree of Peace p19
Becoming a policeman p23
Wife being diagnosed with cancer and beginning the book research p28
Researching the death of hangman Tom Long in 1908 p30
Policing on the beat in the 1950s p38
In charge of fatal accidents and hit-and-runs p41
Working on victims of the Erebus Disaster in Auckland p44
Massive gang brawl in the Square 1972 p45

IJ: We’re recording the oral history of Ray Carter QSM and we’ll start from the very beginning. We’ll start.
RC: All right, I was born in Napier on the 26th of February 1928. I had a twin brother but unfortunately he died 19 hours after we were born through a birth complication. And then my own father died five months later – problems he received from war wounds from the First World War. And then, of course, in 1930, my mother remarried – funnily enough it was the lawyer who attended to my father’s estate. And in 1931, I was with a who in Woolworths at a sale day apparently right at the end of the shop when the big Napier Earthquake hit.
IJ: And that would have been a major experience.
RC: Yes.
IJ: Can we go back just a little bit to your own parents. To your father and mother, where are they from?
RC: Now my father was born in Islington, London and he was born in the same street as where Tony Blair lived when he was appointed Prime Minister and he was living at number 1 and my father was living at number 26. And he was born there in 1888. The house – all that street was actually built in 1854 and I’ve got all the records, which I picked up seven years ago when I was over there and went to the house. But the strange thing was that when I was making my way through the streets, I kept asking – stopping and asking people how to get to the particular street. The name’s just escaped me for a moment and they said: ‘Oh we know why you are going there.’ And I looked rather puzzled, you know, and they said: ‘You’re going to look where Tony Blair lived.’ Because apparently the press and everybody was taking photographs and it was a pretty high price on the house, because both MI5, MI6 and Scotland Yard said because of its positioning they couldn’t guarantee the safety of the Prime Minister. So, he eventually had to pack up and go to 10 Downing Street. So, my mother was born in Woodville actually. And they met through my uncle and my mother was nursing at the time.
IJ: And what was her maiden name?
RC: Blake. And, of course, the Blake family in Woodville are – there’s quite a few of the family who were buried in the old cemetery at Woodville and one was in the Crimean War in 1875. There’s a photograph in Woodville of the funeral, which I’ve had a copy, I’ve sent them off to my sisters. Going through the streets of Woodville, the gun carriage, or what-have-you.
IJ: And what were your parent’s names?
RC: Her name was Janet Blake and his was Martin Carter. But I retained my name after my mother remarried. She married a Garfield Lovell - Herbert Garfield Lovell who was a solicitor up in Napier. So as I said I just retained my name.
IJ: Were there other siblings?
RC: Yes. To my stepfather. Two sisters. One living here and one in Auckland. But that was all.
IJ: Let’s return to that 1931 scene and the Napier Earthquake. And you were a very small boy of what – three-years old?
RC: Three-years old. And I was actually found 10 days later in the camp at the Showgrounds1, where all the evacuees were taken. And they’d rigged up tents apparently. I can’t remember anything of this, but my – half our house was destroyed and a lot of records went. But my father brought my mother down to her brother who lived in Bryant Street, which as you are probably aware, is near the Showgrounds. And he went straight back and with Army, Police, Navy and civilians, they searched around and could find nothing of me and he was getting pretty down-to-it apparently, thinking that I’d been buried or had gone down a hole in the ground or this sort of thing, so he returned. But when he returned to Palmerston his brother-in-law, that’s my uncle, said to him: ‘Look, would you like to go over to the Showgrounds. There might be people in the camp there that you know.’ So he said ok, so they walked across and they were going up and down the rows of tents and here I was playing with a teddy bear in a tent. They just couldn’t believe it. Because my mother had been put under sedation. She was just delirious, you know of what had happened, what with my twin brother and then my father and then the earthquake and she had made it very clear she’ll never ever return to Napier. Anyhow, he had to fill out forms. But it had on the paper that when he was found, there was a footprint on the back of my white shirt. I had little blue shorts on and that’s the – cause they gave a description on the form they were filling out. So somebody must have stepped on me in the panic, you know, being a sale day in Woolworths. But they never ever found out who saved me. They put ads in the paper up there and notices went round. I even went up there for the 50th anniversary of the earthquake and searched around – no there wasn’t a thing that would help me to discover how I got to Palmerston North.
IJ: The first of your many adventures.
RC: Yes! Yes it certainly was Ian.
IJ: So, after that your parents moved to Palmerston North.
RC: Yes, He left my mother with my uncle and then he went back and packed up his practice, came down here and he set up an office in the old Bank of New South Wales building in Rangitikei Street. Upstairs. And then he later shifted to the AMP buildings where he was for many years until he died. But the – he was a man who was a very bright scholar. He was dux of his primary school, dux of the Boys’ High School at Napier, captain of the first fifteen, captain of the first eleven. So he was an all-rounder. And played for Hawkes Bay in the Ranfurly Shield games and Maurie and Cyril Brownie were his locks, he was the hooker. But he got injured in one of the games which cause deafness and that caused a lot of problems for him in his job as a solicitor. But what he did – people would come to him to deal with criminal matters and he would have to refer them to one or two other colleagues who would take it on and in exchange they would give him conveyance work. So, that’s how he carried on right through.
IJ: And where did you live in Palmerston North?
RC: Well we first lived in Tremaine Avenue where the present fire station is. I can remember the house, I can remember we had one cow that I used to go out and milk when I was a youngster. We then shifted to Stanley Avenue. Strange that you brought this up because I’d been intending to go to the library and look up the old records, you know electoral rolls, to find out where – what house it was in Stanley Avenue. And then we later shifted to 9 Rangitane Street and then eventually ending up in Limbrick Street. So that’s where all the movements were.
IJ: And what are your earliest memories?
RC: Well, the earliest memories for me is no doubt the experience at Tremaine Avenue with the house cow and milking, you know. There’s probably the – I can remember in Stanley Avenue we had a Norwegian family next to us, the Sorenson family. Wonderful couple. But then things sort of drifted on. I can remember going to school from Rangitane Street, went to the Terrace End Primary School and the – funny how the mothers met at the gate and there was three little boys with three mothers and before we went in to register and ended up, one of them, later became my best man – David Black who now lives in Surfers’ Paradise and the other one is in Western Australia somewhere, but he was also – he joined the police in Palmerston North and then later shifted around on promotion. But he got wounded when someone came to the house, knocked on the door, opened the door to see what they wanted and next minute bang with a shotgun. Just about blew half his stomach out, you know. So, he was very lucky to have lived.
IJ: And what about – you mentioned that your sisters
when are they – what age are they relative to you?
RC: The eldest one is three years younger than me and the other one would be five or six years younger than I am. She’s in Auckland. She married a local – or both married local people, but the elder sister married a Gary McDonnell and funnily enough they – his research takes him right back to the Bonny Prince Charlie. And they’ve actually got some – silver ware and – the chart with all the names on them – family tree. And that’s all kept at the Bank of New Zealand apparently. The other sister, she married a Lowden from here. There used to be Lowden Mirrors and some other products. Mr Lowden who I knew, the father well, he was a very good hockey player, my brother-in-law, played for New Zealand in the Olympic Games at Melbourne in ’56. But he’s a dentist – was a dentist, he’s retired now. One of his sons took on the practice, another one is a physiotherapist and the third son is an accountant at Manakau City, so they’ve all done very well.
IJ: And what are you sister’s names?
RC: Yvonne, that’s the one in Auckland and Dorothy, the one in Palmerston North.
IJ: And as children, how did you get on?
RC: Oh we got on all right you know. You’ve got to bear in mind that we lived through the Depression days and, but we survived. Dad struggled – well I call him my dad cause he’s the only dad I knew, because there wasn’t a hang of a lot of movement of houses and work in the conveyancing field but no, to the best of my knowledge, we did our own thing. I used to love going to Scouts and going out camping in the weekends, you know, hikes and all that. And then during the war, or course, we used to, once a month in the Coronation Hall, the Army supplied us with great big rolls of netting and huge balls of hemp which we unravelled and by doing a certain movement we were able to loop it through the wire, makes camouflage nets and they in turn, took them away and then sprayed them. You know, green and brown or whatever colours they wanted to. I can remember the Coronation Hall on big trestles, you know, one end of the hall to the other, and we used to do that and then we would go out and my Scout troop and we would go and mow lawns for the wives or parents of the boys who had gone overseas. And once a year we’d have a stall and try and raise a bit of money to organise food parcels, mainly for three of our Scout masters went to the war. So, we got money for food parcels for them.
IJ: So, that activity was obviously pretty important in your life. When did you start in the Scouts?
RC: 1937. As a cub and I was there two years before I got to the age of joining the Scout movement. And I always remember the first night because two of our Scout masters a chap called Ken Davidson and his assistant Kelvin Doull had just come back from a jamboree in Sydney and they gave a talk and I’ve never forgotten and I listened about meeting all these Scouts from all around the Commonwealth and what-have-you and a few from the Asian countries and never thought for a moment that my day would come six years later when – I will retract that – it was 1945 when they told us one night at Scouts that there was going to be a World Scout Jamboree in France in 1947. And I went home to my parents and told them and they said: ‘Oh I don’t know whether we’ll be much help to you son though, we’ll do our best to get money together.’ I went out and actually earned money – extra money from the job I was doing and I worked in the Loan and Mercantile Company and the time and then at night from 6pm to 9pm I went to Barraud and Abraham. They were a big firm in town in Grey Street where they were processing all the onions and potatoes and they put them on a conveyor belt eventually went through on to like a wire mesh thing and all the undersize potatoes fell though and we bagged those and the oversize went further on and they were bagged in another area. And then that’d be one week, we’d do potatoes, the next week we’d do onions from Opiki and most of that was going either overseas to the troops on the big food ships or going to Paraparaumu where all the Americans, by this time, where in camp there.
IJ: So, you’re doing this at night as well as well as working during the day.
RC: Yes, I was saving money. Then I got a job – an old miner, a chap called Fisher who is well-and-truly gone, he lent me a band around my head, ran on batteries and I was able to mow lawns at night time, up and down Limbrick Street. And living in Limbrick Street at the time, but you could put your head down with a push mower and you mowed all the street lawns. And you would get various amounts depending on the size of the lawns and whether they want you to do the front lawn as well, you know. Eventually, to make a long story short, when it came to 1947, I was able to pay the deposit of a hundred pound and then of course, it ended up the whole trip was going to cost us £236 and we were away six months. So that was a wonderful experience going to the Jamboree
IJ: It would have been. We’ll come back to that in a minute, but I’d just like to duck back a little bit to your slightly younger days and schooling. Where did you go to school?
RC: Terrace End Primary School and then I was a first-year pupil at the Normal Intermediate School. In fact when my mother took me to enrol, old J C Whibley who was the principal, he said: ‘By the way Mrs Lovell, your son is the 13th pupil to enrol at the school.’ So I thought, you know – 13!
IJ: Did you enjoy school?
RC: Yes, I did. It was my first introduction to the – they used to have clubs at school. Woodwork, metalwork various sports and the sport that attracted me was wrestling, because I used to listen to wrestling in the ‘30s on the old radio and I’d flip from Auckland, to Wellington, to Christchurch during the week, listen to all these bouts. 1939, my father said to me: ‘Listen, would you like to go to a wrestling match? There’s one in town tonight.’ Well I couldn’t get on that bike quick enough. And I got the last seat, right up in the Opera House, right at the very back up top. And it was between an American called Andy Mahon and a New Zealander, well known, Lofty Blomfield.2 And from then on I just loved wrestling. And, of course, then I went then in ’41 while at Intermediate, I joined the wrestling club. It was one of the hobby classes. Cyril Dredge was the instructor – or the teacher, but he also had wrestling skills and that amateur wrestling I found tough going. I kept right through, you know, then I had a pause and then later I used to go to all the bouts, more or less after the war finished from 1945 onwards. A lot of American wrestlers came to New Zealand and I’d be there to everyone. Then I’d be wrestling in the amateur bouts prior to the big bout. And sometimes the professional wrestlers would come out and act as our seconds, you know. I remember once Earl McCready3 was my second, well I thought I was on top of the world. The advice he gave me wasn’t particularly good. Well it would have been good but I didn’t follow it. I got beaten on the odd occasion. But I think I played the part of the bad man, you know, I was always a devil. And I remember getting thrown through the ropes once and landing on the lap of the Mayor of Palmerston Mr A Mansford4. And he wasn’t so impressed. Because they had the old wicker chairs in those days and he got bowled back a bit, you know. But luckily there was someone sitting behind him otherwise he would have gone right backwards.
IJ: What about the scholastic side of school?
RC: I wasn’t
I liked the sport. You know, I wasn’t – certainly wasn’t at the top, but I wasn’t at the bottom. I would say I was a 50/50 scholar. But I loved sport and you know, athletics and of course in the early days of Boys’ High School which I started in 1942, you may be interested to know, the guy I started school with that day was a chap called Fred Hollows who is well-known in Australia and Fred and I started school together.
IJ: The man who saved many people’s eyesight.
RC: Exactly. And he was in the Boys’ Brigade and I was in the Scouts, and when we used to have the Anzac Day Parades, cause all the Scout troops would turn out and all the Boys’ Brigade would turn out and we would march, with soldiers and returned serviceman. They were big parades in those days. Very big parades. And they used to be quite proud of you if you were the flag bearer for your troop, you know, carried the flag. But because there were so many football teams or rugby teams they gave you a go at soccer, which didn’t appeal to me. Hockey, I had a bit of a go at, but I don’t think I had the skills to, you know, twist and turn the ball at all angles and, but eventually I got into rugby at school and did reasonably well. I played a few games for the first fifteen on Saturdays because most of my time was in the second fifteen, and got the two games in the first fifteen against the other schools, you know, and came on as a reserve or something like that.
IJ: So, sport was obviously a big part of life.
RC: Yes, yes, it always have been. And, of course, later in life, after I left school, joined the local athletic club, we’d meet down at the sports ground in Fitzherbert Avenue. Half mile and a mile and nothing less, because it would take me two days to get over a hundred yards, I reckon. No, but eventually I found out that I was getting used to longer distances and this is only because another member of the club, who lived opposite me in Limbrick Street said: ‘Why don’t you come out and join the Harriers?’ And I said to this guy: ‘Oh Tomlin, it takes me all the time to run a mile.’ I don’t know how’d I run seven and a half miles or whatever distance they were running. So, I tried it, and the first Harrier race was out at Whakarongo and I can remember I thought to myself: ‘Oh well, I’ll run one lap and call it a day,’ you know. But I kept going and I finished. ‘Oh, that’s not too bad.’ So, I used to start training with this guy and we ended up well and truly tied up with our senior Harrier team. And then I ended up running in much bigger races. And ten mile, fifteen mile and then a twenty mile race at Trentham called the Wellington Gold Cup, they called it. And did very well there. And then ended up running marathons. But I only ran six marathons and you wouldn’t believe it in those days there were between 6 and say 13 starters in a New Zealand marathon. You know, Arthur Lydiard was in the race, Noel Taylor and one or two other well-known athletes from those days and I ran in the New Zealand marathon in Wanganui. Stinking hot day and we went across dusty roads and the authorities forgot to stop the traffic and all the dust got to the athletes and they were just inhaling dust, you couldn’t see the roads in parts. So that wasn’t a very good experience. And the following year in Dunedin, ran in the New Zealand Marathon Championships, and I always remember, we had to draw a number out of a hat from a little card. And there was only 11 of us that started and I drew – went in first and drew number 11, and I always remember Arthur Lydiard saying to me: ‘That’ll teach you Carter for going in first.’ So I drew the outside lane. Not that it mattered in a marathon of course, but it was just the fact that I drew the outside lane and old Arthur used to chuckle about that. But I see him every now and again, you know, he comes to Wanganui to a big sports meeting. If I can get there I will go and see him and go and have a beer after, you know. Talk about the old times, but he’s getting old now and – poor old Arthur.
IJ: But he’s been a major influence once again. Another huge influence in New Zealand athletics.
RC: Yep, he was overlooked by New Zealand and we had countries like Finland taking him on, you know, because he was recognised around the world as one of the greatest trainers. You look at Halberg and Snell, I ran against both of those guys,. But of course, with Halberg, I ran in the very first indoor mile in New Zealand. It was held in Palmerston. The old YMCA stadium. And Murray Halberg and his – and Yvette Williams came for tea. Then we went down and Yvette was doing the shotput and the long jump and my wife at the time, she did the long jump and I ran in the one mile and I said to Murray over tea, I said: ‘Well I’m going to – I’m determined I’m going to beat you around the first lap.’ And I’m damn certain he let me do it too. After that I saw the back of him all the way and as I got further back and further back I could hardly see him, because being a short course and sharp bends and no banking he had the – because of his deformed arm, he used to hold it like this and pump with his right arm going round the bend. But oh a great fellow. But those, you know, were great days because with Harriers you never had a cancellation through weather and they use to have a radio announcer here who used to do the sports and he worked in Golfington Cousins and his name escapes me for a moment, but he came on the radio that night with all the sports results. And he said: ‘Well it’s going to be pretty short tonight because there’s only one event went on today and that is the Harriers. Palmerston North Harrier Club, they braved the elements and the sleet,’ and what-have-you, and I happened to win it that day. So I did quite well in Harriers, but I never had a first on the track. Plenty of seconds and thirds and further back, but no never won a race on the track. But I had quite a few firsts in Harriers. And what it meant – the longer the distance, the better I was getting.
IJ: You’re a stayer.
RC: Yes, yes and a taxi driver in town here, he was in the Harrier Club and we decided once we’d have a go at running from Wellington to Palmerston and we trained for a long time, for many months. But we found difficulty in getting support teams, you know, in those days, of course, there wasn’t much petrol around, you couldn’t expect guys to come out on their bikes and bike for miles and miles just to be with you. You know, you really needed guys to be running with you and to help you. And one of the ways I used to do it was I’d go to Shannon with three or four of the Harrier Club and I would get out with one or two from the car and we’d head towards Palmerston, all the ups and downs, you know, and then after five miles they would get into the car and another couple would get out and they took it in turns to the sportsground then I’d do the required laps to make up 20 odd miles, or whatever it was, 26 miles. When you got sick of that I would get on a workers bus. The old Madge Motors in Rangitikei Street was opposite a firm where I used to work, the farmers supply depot and I would go across and go on the workers bus, leaving at four and go to Foxton and I used to have a key to the great big – well it was the big doors that would open and inside there was a little door and they gave me the keys so when I got back I could open the door and go in get my gear and if I wanted I could have a shower there, or I’d go home, have a bath and have my meal, but I’d run from Foxton back to Palmerston on my own and that was another course. And the third course was leaving from the sportsground running round – no houses in those days – up this way and out to Ashhurst, over the Ashhurst Bridge and then back along Napier Road on the flat and then the next time I did that run, I’d do the reverse. So I ended up doing the dips which is along the Aokautere Road.
IJ: You clocked up a few miles.
RC: Yes, I had a record in there somewhere amongst my papers of the – round about 100 mile a week I was training and the other course, I’d run from – I was living in Miro Street then and I’d run from Miro Street to the top of Mount Stewart and back before I went to work. And I’d get up in the morning at four o’clock and I would sort of walk and jog until I got to the corner of Tremaine Avenue and Rangitikei Street then I would start slowly working up, you know, a pace but it got a bit tricky because if a vehicle came towards you, you veered over, or coming behind you, you veered over and once I got caught on – from the tar seal to the edge and I twisted my ankle and that threw me. And another time I suddenly ran into a herd of blimmin bullocks that had got out through a fence – broken fence and that frightened the hell out of me, I can assure you. So, then I carried a little torch as a matter of fact, mainly because I – if I knew a car was coming behind me I would put my hand back and switch it on and just flick it backwards and forwards so they could see. And then if a car was coming towards me, just go backwards and forwards. But it was suggested by one motorist I should have one of these torches had green and red and white where you could change the colour scheme. But I never got round to that.
IJ: Let’s duck back a little bit to that, firstly back to the war years and you were a young chap during the war years. What do you remember of the war years? How did it affect you and your life?
RC: Well, I certainly remember the day I was at Primary School at Terrace End, I was in the class, Mr Swartz was our teacher and he came in after lunch one day and broke the news to us that war had been declared. And as a young person in your primary school years, you didn’t really fully understand what was going to take place. However, I was fully aware that my father had been wounded in the Battle of the Somme in 1916 and he – and not knowing anything about the Battle of the Somme, I’ve since learnt they’ve got a book at the RSA on the Battle of the Somme, I must go and get it out. And, so I had no one really to tell me a great deal of what went on. However, when my Scout masters came back from the war, they talked about it and then you’d hear various stories from reading about them or someone – a son had returned and you’d hear in the paper that Bill Johnson from Heretaunga Street a private that went overseas, he’d returned, he was wounded or whatever. And then, of course, I always remember the troop trains going through town. We used to follow the troop trains and pick up all the beer bottles they threw out. And we used to collect these and we’d put them in sacks and go up to a bottle exchange up Roberts Line, in those days, known as the ABC Bottle Exchange and we would sell them and get one and sixpence per dozen and then we would trot on down to a little hairdresser at Terrace End shops and buy a packet of cigarettes, as devils, you know, and go into the Fitzroy Park, well it wasn’t named the Fitzroy Park in those days, it later became Fitzroy Park, it was just a great big metal pit, you know, and we’d have our smokes down there. Most of the time we would collect dock leaves up the railway lines. Dry them out, roll your own, sort of thing.
IJ: How did you feel after that?
RC: Well, gosh that didn’t last very long because in 1945 I gave up all forms of smoking, to save money to go to the Scout Jamboree. It was more important for me to, you know, to do that than worry about smoking and spending my money. It was the best thing I ever did in my life.
IJ: And you never started again.
RC: Never started again. So it’s 1945.
IJ: You’ve have just about given up by now.
RC: Oh I think so. When I – I love when I’m questioned when I go to the hospital, one of the questions they ask: ‘Are you a smoker?’ and I have great delight in not just saying yes or no, just letting them know how long I have been a non-smoker.
IJ: Yeah, so the war sort of impacted on you as a young man.
RC: Yes, my uncle, who went away in the First World War, he related a story that upset me greatly, of a political nature. He was on a troop ship ready to sail out of Wellington and he well remembered Peter Fraser coming down and tramping on the Union Jack and trying to tell the men not to go and fight. That really hit home quite badly and as a result of that, I never ever, sort of followed his line of politics. My mother was a very staunch Labour person. I never – I don’t know until this day what my father was, he never got involved in politics. But I – whether it was devilment or not, I don’t know – but I used to go the opposite way to her when it came to politics. Only because, probably because of that story. Because that – my uncle said that really upset the troops who were going to fight and here was a man on the wharf jumping all over our flag telling them not to go. And that’s what happened.
IJ: Big impact.
RC: Yes, big impact.
IJ: So, in 1945, that was about the time you started thinking about this Jamboree.
RC: Exactly. And I worked really hard for that and got the money.
IJ: You said you’d raised about £100 of the 230, how did you get the rest?
RC: It was actually through – the £100 between my parents and my savings. And then a couple, a great friend of our family came to light with the rest of it. I’d pay them back when I got back. A Mr and Mrs Catterick. They lived somewhere in Marne Street I think from memory. And they were really good friends of my parents. As I said, although my father was a lawyer, he went through hard times, you know, having to pay the mortgage on the house and feed us and it turned out that he couldn’t do much. But when I got back and got a job, I paid them all back . But it would be the greatest experience of my life. I think. Because before I went my mother told me - or wanted me to go to a big department store in London called Marshall and Snelgroves and she said that an uncle of mine was the managing director there. So when we got over there, we’d lost contact, by the way, because all of our records had been lost in the Napier Earthquake, so when we got over there, my cobber and I from Palmerston, wearing a Scout uniform we’d go into London and the first day we went to this big firm and no doubt you have seen the programme ‘Are you being served?’ Well you just wouldn’t believe how true it was. Because when we went there looking like a couple of silly kids wandering around in a place that was a bit above our heads as far as clothing and, you know, was concerned. My – this guy came up, dressed up all toffy-nosed and he said: ‘Oh can you help you boys?’ And I told him: ‘I understand a Mr Doug Tollhurst works here.’ “Oh good heavens! Boy,’ he said ‘he would have retired about 18 years ago.’ So he obviously knew him, you know. But he walked away. Didn’t offer any suggestions or anything. But as it happened, and this particular guy’s portrayed in this programme, he was going round restocking shelves . He had a khaki coat on and he had overheard me asking. So when this fella went away he came over to us as we were about to leave. He said, ‘Did you mention the name of Tollhurst?’ And I said: ‘Yes’. ‘Well there’s a Miss Tollhurst here in the millinery department. You come with me.’ So we trotted through the store right to the back. And then we got upstairs and then he said: ‘Wait here.’ And he went forward and he spoke to a lady who had just finished serving a customer. And he came back and said: ‘Won’t be long.’ And he left us. This woman came over and, of course, when he said there was a Miss Tollhurst, I naturally thought it would be a young lass, you know and this was an elderly woman obviously in her 50s in those days. And I – she said: ‘Can I help you?’ And I said: ‘Well I understand there’s a Miss Tollhurst here.’ She said: ‘Yes, I’m Miss Tollhurst. I said: ‘Well I’m trying to locate a Mr Doug Tollhurst. She said: ‘That’s my brother.’ By this time she had read the name tag on our Scout shirts, New Zealand. And she said: ‘Who are you?’ I said: ‘I’m Martin Carter’s son.’ And she looked at me and she said: ‘Was Joss his nickname?’ I said: ‘Yeah, I understand it was.’ Well she threw her arms around me and she just balled her eyes out. And I still couldn’t get the explanation of who she was. And then she said: Doug was her brother and that he was still alive living down in Devon. She said all your aunties are still alive, ones in hospital, your grandmother’s still alive, living in Oxford with an uncle of yours - the only other brother in the family. And one was in Buenos Aires had married a German banker after the war, about 1922. Well, you didn’t know where to start first. So you’ve got another auntie and they started taking us up to ‘Annie Get Your Gun’ at the London Palladium, ‘Oklahoma’ and all those shows, you know. And then we visit an auntie in London Hospital. She wasn’t particularly well. And then arrangements were made for me to go to down to Sidmouth to see my uncle who married my father’s sister. Well Sidford was just a little village, but the whole town, or the whole village knew we were coming and we used to go for walks, you know, uncle and I and everyone wanted to put on morning tea for us . I remember scones and of course they had cream and raspberry jam on them. They made a great fuss, yet there was rationing on. We all had ration cards. You’d offer your rations when you want to buy a bag of sweet. No way would they take your ration card from you, or little coupon I should say. So it went on, you know those sort of things. And then eventually I was heading north and arrangements were made that I would be on a train. I would arrive in Oxford in the early hours of the morning and I’d have about three hours to sleep in the waiting room before my uncle would come in and pick me up, because he was on a little farm just out of Oxford. And sure enough, he did. They hadn’t even told my grandmother about me and then he broke the news to her. Well she was 92, I think at the time, and couldn’t get over how – that I was so tall and my father was so short. Now as a 19-year old Ian, you didn’t think much about asking questions. I knew I was going to come back to see them. But things unfortunately changed and we didn’t, because they got us on an earlier ship and he had to come back to New Zealand. So I had no show and that was very disappointing. But I later learnt – and only seven years ago when I went to England when I wrote to the Ministry of Defence in Wellington and go the copies of all my father’s war records. And blow me down, in his description page he was only five foot two and a half! And that’s why she couldn’t get over how tall I was. Course she never met my mother and course she knew that father had died and then course she told us how they’d sent him to Eton College and he didn’t like it because being so small he got bullied. And after three years – just over three years he was there, 1901 to I think it was 1904, and he took off and he got a job on a ship. Now the next part is quite vague, but he got to Australia and I have got photographs of him in Australia. There’s Aborigines there and it was on some sort of big sheep station and there’s a store there with some big long Aborigine name on it and it was only a few years ago that some people came over for a genealogy conference. I mentioned this to them, gave them the details and they eventually found where it was, and some way-out station, you know. I’ve always thought about going and visiting he place if it still existed. But then he eventually came to New Zealand. And he worked on the Otira Tunnel and then he went farming in a little village just out of Timaru. Apparently it’s north of Timaru and I’ve got the medal somewhere, a little gold medal, that they presented to him from the people. He came to camp in the Rifle Brigade, and blow-me-down, if he wasn’t out at Rangiotu. And I’ve got photographs of him in the camp at Rangiotu. And from the photographs you can certainly see how short he was compared with the other men. And, of course, these all came later, you know when – after my mother died and aunties who had these photographs too. They all came forward with these things. But, of course, once again I was in no position to talk about it, and my mother never ever wanted to talk about the sadness in her life because it affected her so much. And, so I didn’t. But my aunties were close to my mother, they came from Hawera and were able to carry out, you know, little discussions about it.
IJ: And piece together what had gone on.
RC: But the strange thing to, my mother and father were the first couple to be married in a hospital in New Zealand.5
IJ: In a hospital?
RC: In a hospital in 1924 at Dannevirke. And just the other day, I got talking over at the retirement village over here. I went over to have a chat to the guy that manages the place. And an elderly woman came in and sat down and obviously was part of the village, and we got talking and anyhow, Dannevirke came up and I said to the lady, I said: ‘You may be interested to know,’ I said, ‘My father and mother were married in a hospital in New Zealand. I understand it was the first marriage in a hospital.’ She said: ‘That’s right.’ And I was quite chuffed about this. Because in 1961, I was a relieving policeman at Woodville, and two urgent summonses came from Masterton for this couple to be at the Masterton Court on the following Tuesday. This was about a Thursday. So, I shot out, had a name of a road, but I couldn’t find the road. A lot of the road names had been broken off. So, it was just on midday and I shot up this road and the first house I came to, I noticed a couple of cars. And I thought well there’s a good chance somebody’s home. So I went in. Anyhow, I told them that I was looking for this particular couple and they said: ‘They’re on the next road, but they’re in town at the moment as it’s Dannevirke sale day. But they’ll be back about one o’clock.’ So, I thought: ‘Oh, what am I going to do for an hour.’ So they invite me to join them for lunch. So I did. And in the course of conversation, I told them that I had an uncle at Kiritaki. And they asked his name and I told them: Blake, Jim Blake, Bakers Road. And then they said to me: ‘What was your surname again?’ And I said: ‘Carter.’ He said: ‘Was your father a Martin Carter?’ And I said: ‘Yes.’ He said: ‘You won’t believe it I was the sister in charge of the ward when you parents got married and the matron was also at the wedding and she was a witness to the marriage. And then when this lady came up today she remembered it – what less than a week ago. Couldn’t believe it. And so I was able to talk a bit about that, but I’ve got to go and research that. I was always going to do it and never got round to doing it. I did go to the hospital once but they couldn’t find the records. But I’ll have to go to the newspapers now and research it there. But because of so many other things on, you just don’t get that chance. But it’s a small world.
IJ: It is indeed.
RC: The fact that I was able to meet my grandmother only because of a blimmin workman or whatever you like to call him – a storeman packing the shelves overheard a conversation, then one thing led to another and finding all my aunties and uncle and grandmother still alive.
IJ: You never got to see you grandmother again after that?
RC: No, unfortunately we got wired up at Edinburgh. We all had to return by a certain date because they had a ship ready to – we had to be onboard in less than a week. We came home on the Atlantis6 which was the first immigrant ship to come to New Zealand. 700 immigrants – English immigrants onboard and Scottish and 200 Scouts.
IJ: And was that 1947 was it.
RC: Yeah and of course, it was very sad that I could never get back. But when I got to Perth there was a cablegram received on the ship to inform me that my grandmother passed away. So you know, that was the tough part. But then I had their address book with all their addresses of aunts and uncles. Why I had it, this particular day , I opened it, I was leaning on the rail and somehow it just slipped out of my hand into the drink. I tell ya, I had the good and bad days. So, that was a bad day.
IJ: And what about the Jamboree itself.
RC: Oh that was just unbelievable. You had the – it was the first Jamboree after the war had finished. It was known as the Jamboree of Peace7. And here, we had a contingent of 235 scouts and scout masters from New Zealand went. And we started off in England and we camped in a place called Gilmore Park near Chingford and not far from where we were camped was the German prisoner-of-war camp. And a lot of them were just able to roam free. In fact one time there we had a big camp fire with all the German prisoners who had been ex-scouts and we had a mighty campfire at Gilmore Park. And of course anybody in scouting knows that Gilmore was the headquarters of scouting for England. And but we got over there and we were camped amongst all the various countries. Huge – there was 42 000 in the camp. The camp was five miles long by three miles wide. And they had a railway ran through the camp. Went in and out of all the different countries and it ran at five miles an hour and it was an old munitions type of truck – train and you were able to just run along, jump onto this big steel plate and then on to the main plate where you were able to hold onto a rail, you know, and when you’ve got to the country you want to visit, you just jumped off and went and saw the Americas and all their red Indian boys and their head gear. And you’d bowl up and have your photograph taken. And all this sort of thing you know. But just a wonderful experience, meeting all these different guys and collecting badges as you do and putting them on you campfire blanket, you know. And I’ve still got my campfire blanket. The – you made many friends there and one in the camp I was in, there was New Zealanders and next to us was a lot of Dutch scouts. And they used to – we’d walk around the campfire and we’d talk about the Battle of Arnhem.8 No doubt, you heard about and the disaster that was. And how they used to grab the parachutes and drag them into the bush and get into their homes and their mothers would cut them up and make shirts for them, clothing for them, you know. Then the British had folding bicycles and they’d grab a bicycle, well you know, because the men had been shot and then, as I said that was ’47. 1952 I was working in a shop in Rangitikei Street called Farmers Supply Depot, it was lunchtime. I was there on my own and a guy came in and he wanted to buy a pair of boots. And his voice – there was something about his voice that attracted me to him. And I tried to think where had I heard this voice before? Anyhow, conversation went on and he said he’s only been in New Zealand two or three weeks and he was staying with a brother and he – we got talking again and I said: ‘I’ve got a feeling I’ve met you, or know – your voice sounds familiar to me.’ So I said: ‘Have you ever been in the Scouts?’ And he said: ‘Ya ya. I scout.’ And I said: ‘Have you ever been to a Jamboree in France?’ ‘Ya, ya, I have.’ And I said: ‘What camp were you in?’ And he said: ‘Zoderpeck.’ That was the name of one of the provinces in France that all the different camps were named after. I said: ‘Can you remember who was camped next to you?’ And he said: ‘New Zealanders.’ And I said: ‘You were in a bell-tent weren’t you?’ ‘Yas.’ We’d met over a campfire. Well he later became my assistant scout master. He’s still alive. He lives up north somewhere in Auckland. He’s got two boys in the police and it just shows you what a small world it is Ian.
IJ: It is.
RC: Just unreal that a thing like that can happen. Incidentally, I was with the Rover crew when we went over, but coming back two of them – scout masters had permission to stay behind. Unbeknownst to us, so I got attached to all the Manawatu boys, it turned out I knew them all, plus all the other North Island boys known as the Te Toki Troop. We’re the only troop in the world who ever kept our reunion going every year, never missed. Unfortunately I couldn’t get to the last two through illness – or the last one cause I’d just having all this radiation and stuff and no way could I travel up to Thames and one – the year before I was in hospital for an operation so I seemed to miss out. But I keep all the troop records, you know, and blow-me-down, only two days ago the scout master rang me from up north Auckland to tell me his wife had passed away. I knew she hadn’t gone to the reunion but her daughter had looked after her while a son had brought the father down. And he rang to see how I was and then he informed me that his wife Mim, who was at Girls’ High School here, had passed away with cancer. So the funeral’s tomorrow. But no way that I can get there. And one of the daughter’s coming back from America she was there recently when mother took ill. So, but it’s unique because it’s been recognised throughout the world, we’re the only troop that ever kept our reunion going. And we’ve had amazing guys in it, you know, we’ve had a couple of chemists, editor of the Waikato Times, you know, Bruce Martin who worked for the Times. He, funnily enough, many years ago, he was an ex-Longburn scout, as was Larry McKissing the guy who rang me about his wife. He was the scout master at Longburn. What a fine guy he was. He’s 86 now. The comradeship with these guys are tremendous. One guy is recently retired, he was the big head of the European Motors in New Zealand brought back all the BMWs and Mercedes and whatever cars they built in Europe and he was the head of the New Zealand operation. And him and his wife had to go to Germany to have presentations made to him. He was a young fellow from Levin and in the troop. Tremendous crowd of guys, they really are.
IJ: Obviously scouting has been part of your life.
RC: Oh yes I had 30 years of it. It was only because of my work and the relieving duties, I was going around the one-man stations all around our Palmerston North Police area, that I virtually had to give up my job as Commissioner of the area. I – Ian Cruden9, no doubt you’ve heard of, Ian was another Commissioner of another area at the time. And – But I would help out with Scouts and the Cubs when I went to say Eketahuna, Woodville, Bulls or Shannon, you know, and sometimes you’d have a bit of spare time and you were able to get the kids along to the station after. And you made it all the tests quite tough. I used to make them tougher than it was really laid down in what they call the POR book – Policy Organisational Rules of Scouting. But I loved to give the kids challenges, you know, and make it real as possible. Because they were learning that way. And if you can give them tasks, let them think for themselves, you know. Eketahuna parents came out, they’d just about – I think half of them wanted to die of heart failure, when they saw their sons being lowered down a cliff face, you know. The kids had tied the ropes themselves, you know and big good strong ropes with the farmers chair knot or whatever and we put up pulleys and things and I would lower them down a cliff face. But the comments you got back from the parents was just made it so much different. And then I found that there was an old school mate of mine, funnily enough same surname a chap called Don Carter at school and he was a – bloomin hell I found out he was the headmaster of the Newman’s School which is just out of Eketahuna. So he invited me down to talk to his class - or the school. So I took a lot of forms cyclist style and went down there and all the details about a bicycle. And, so we talked about, before I even introduced these forms, I got talking about bicycles. I’d say to a lad: ‘Do you have a bicycle?’ He’d say: ‘Yeah.’ ‘If you had it stolen and you went to the policeman, Mr Castleline, what would you tell him about your bicycle?’ “Oh, it’s a bicycle with black
’ you know, ‘What’s the make of it?’ ‘Oh I think it’s a Hercules or Raleigh, I’m not sure.’ And this went on, you know. Well of course and this form had all the different, the colour of the handle grips and where they had a light and whether the rims were silver and whether they’d been painted. The size of the wheels. And each kid got these forms and they had to take them home. And I always remember I played – when I was relieving, I played for the Eketahuna Senior Rugby Team and the old coach said to us at half time: ‘Good god,’ he said, ‘what with a minister and a cop playing for us what next am I going to get on my team!’ So I was the last to go back onto the field and I said to him: ‘Who’s the minister in our team?’ He said: ‘The guy you’re locking with.’ Anyhow, parents had come to me and said: ‘You’re a bloody nuisance,’ he said, ‘Yes I came in from milking the other night here’s my son with his bike upside down on the kitchen floor and he’s trying to work out all the different things on the form with his sister.’ He said: ‘And I had to help fill in the gaps.’ But he said: ‘It’s a good idea.’ He said. So I said to these kids: ‘Now you put that in an envelope, put it in your drawer and if you ever lose you bicycle you can go to Mr Castleline and say: ‘Constable, I’ve had my bike stolen.’ If he asks you what the description is, you can take it out of the envelope and give it to him. He will think what a bright young lad you are.
IJ: I just thinking, you’ve have been talking for about an hour and a half.
RC: No, well we’ll go to half past three.
IJ: Your quite happy to keep going.
RC: Yep, go for another twenty minutes.
IJ: That’s great. So, yeah scouting. What I would also like to go back a little bit and from the time that you left school the time that you joined the police force, what were the various jobs that you did in that time?
RC: Right. Another job I had in raising money, when it came to holiday time, I needed big money so I went to the Longburn Freezing Works. Got a job on the culling floor. I was known as a ‘string boy’, where you – there was a set size string you just pulled off and you put around the neck and round the forelegs and it sort of hunched the – that part of the body in before it went into the freezer. But there was so many – there was one or two communists out there and they were organising strikes all the time and finding ways. And a chap called Segal was there and Manning was at Feilding Freezing Works and I got sick of this because we weren’t getting paid for being on strike so I then went down to the wharf in Wellington, stayed with friends down there and blow-me-down the first job I got was helping unload a banana ship and these boxes of bananas came down, you had to lift them and put them onto a type of pallet and there was six guys, six/seven guys on this form, some had been reading the paper when it suited them, they’d just get up go and – there might be two or three boxes of bananas waiting to be shifted. They couldn’t leave it too long because they’d be too high to pull them up – pull them off to bring down to the pallet. Oh blow this. So I got up and started unloading the whole lot on my own. Well, they all looked at me and then a guy got me at morning tea break and said: ‘Listen lad if you want to end up in the drink, don’t do what you’ve been doing. You wait your turn. You’ll find out when it’s time to – you’ll get a nudge from the guy next to you – better get up and take that box of bananas off the chute.’ Well this is just ridiculous. So from then on I ended up going to the Loan and Mercantile and they – a big stock and station agents here and I worked there for a while. And then I went to the Manawatu Electric Plating Company where they redid the electric plating on silverware all that type of thing. But their main function was to do the reflectives of headlights where they really polished them up. It was a filthy job, it was shocking. And, you know, a lot of men must have got ill, I got crook with lungs, you know, because the dust and stuff, although you had a thing around you, you’re all black by the end of the day, you know. And I went from there to France and then I came back. And I decided to pull out of that and I went, as I said, to Loan and Merc and worked there for quite a long time. And then a guy that I’d worked with there, he decided to start out on his own in a little business, farmer’s supplies and veterinary lines and we were in the store together, he was a head storeman. And it turned out that – so I left Loan and Merc and went and worked for him for six and a half years and then I joined the police. Saw one of our Harriers one day walking the beat. And I said to this guy: ‘Ryan, if it’s good enough for you to be a policeman, it’s good enough for me.’ So he said: “Come round.’ So he walked around and took me into the station and saw the recruiting officer and started from there.
IJ: How old were you then, Ray?
RC: Ah 27. And I always remember the day when – cause they did enquiries into your background and everything, you know. They wanted to know every aunt, uncle, brother, sister you had, any convictions or whatever and they check on all that. And then the day came when I report on a Friday to the station at 10am and marched down to the Superintendent’s office, a big, not tall, but very broad man, a chap called John Crowley, Irishman. And this man from Feilding and I, his name was Bernie Ryan, he said to me: ‘Well, Mr Carter seen as your name starts with C, I’ll swear you in first. Mr Ryan can wait. So I was always one senior to his Bernie Ryan. Unfortunately he passes away 12 months ago. But he was a guy who was also involved in sport. Played for Manawatu, you know, rugby and what-have-you. And so, then I spent 30 years in the police, you know my first years on the beat of course. Then you got like a promotion to serving summons and executing warrants for people who had failed to pay fines or whatever. Arresting people when you got an order from the court that you had to go and arrest Joe Bloggs who hadn’t paid his fines. That wasn’t a pleasant job but it was an order of the court if you failed to obey the order then you were in trouble. Then I got into plain clothes inquiries and from there because the hospital wanted the policemen to be in plain clothes, I was then allowed to wear plain clothes and I got a plain clothes allowance like the CIB and I – my area covered the Longburn Freezing Works, the DSIR, the DRI, Massey University, the hospital and all the country area, going out Kairanga and surrounding country areas, you know. And it was a huge area and a very big task because I used to have a lot of work at the hospital, a lot of work at Linton Camp and quite a bit at Massey.
IJ: When you were getting into it initially, let’s have a look at your training, it was a little bit different to what it is today, I think, actually starting in the police.
RC: Oh yes, because the first nine months in the job I hadn’t even been to a training school. They had so many had joined up and so we had to wait. But our sergeant would go out with us every time and he would talk the law to us.
IJ: So, you would walk around on the beat with the sergeant?
RC: Yep, and he would explain the law, you know he might say he hears smashing glass, it might be in the early hours of the morning, you look up, he would say: ‘What’s happened? Sounds like it could be a burglary. What would you do?’ And then you say – have run down and try and apprehend the – he’d say: ‘There’s two offenders.’ ‘Oh well’ I said, ‘I’d try and grab one.’ He’s say: ‘Well what would you do with him then?’ And, I’d say: ‘Well, I’d handcuff him.’ He’d say: ‘Would you march him back to the station and let the other one go?.’ And then he’d come up with a suggestion: ‘Don’t forget there’s a few lampposts around. Handcuff him around a lamppost. You know damn well he’s not going to run away then.’ Or a bike stand, you know, that had been cemented into the footpath. All things you’d never thought of, you know. And then you’d go off after the other guy. The – you’d get all these sort of stories and then in 1960, I was told I was to go and do my first relieving job at Eketahuna, where I’d be there for a month, for the local policeman to go on leave. And you didn’t realise just how many jobs the local constable had to cover. You would be the bailiff, you’d be the probation officer and in some cases you’d be the inspector of chartered premises and in some areas you’d be the inspector of fisheries. There was a wide range of things you had to do and it would vary from, you know, from Eketahuna to Woodville and so on. Clerk of the Court and – but it was something you learnt pretty quickly. And you had no one to turn to. You just had - because of my age and I was in my early 30s, of course, when I got that first appointment and I would go from one station to the other. I might go from Eketahuna to Bulls, Bulls to Woodville, Woodville to Shannon, something like that. So, I was away for most of the year from the station, but by joe I tell you I learned an awful lot from that. And one of the strange things was, you would get people coming to you who had problems that they didn’t want to discuss with the local constable but they needed to talk with somebody from the law and get advice. Sometimes it was embarrassing. But – and you had to deal with that and give them advice on what course of action you think they should take. Sometimes it was a civil matter, you know, but you got to know an awful lot of people in these towns and some of the jobs you’d get word that one publican would ring my boss at work and say: ‘Look we’ve got problems with the pubs here, there’s four of us and I know that Joe Bloggs, Bill Smith and David Brown are all trading yet I’m – I keep to the licencing laws.’ So the next thing you’d get a ring from the boss. ‘Right, I’ve had a complaint from
’ So the first thing I would do, I would arrange for a meeting at the police station, nine o’clock in the morning. All the publicans and they must be there. And I laid it down that they had to comply with the licencing laws and if they failed to do so that I said: ‘This is a warning now, the next – if I catch you, you’ll be prosecuted Or I’ll report you for prosecution, it’s not my decision.’ But I report the facts to my superiors and they would then in turn decide whether there was enough evidence to charge. And that was quite fascinating, because I caught one – he was new to the pub, I lent him the station licencing laws. I found out later that he damn well had one all the time and I warned him. Blow-me-down two nights later I went back to his hotel and he was still trading after hours. So I booked him. He’d pleaded not guilty and the be heard in the Pahiatua Court. So, I got up with the sergeant there and I had to give my evidence. Then the guy didn’t have a lawyer was going to defend himself. So I said to him: ‘You want to ask questions of the constable?’ And the defendant said: ‘No sir’. So the magistrate would say to me: ‘In the evidence you told the court that two day before you’d found this man offending and you gave him a warning. Where did you get your authority to give a warning?’ Well I was dumbfounded. I was trying to be nice to the guy and give him a fair show and I got dressed down properly. So anyhow I – he was heard and then the guy didn’t want to give evidence so the magistrate had no alternative but to find him guilty of course. Opening, exposing and selling. So, that went by the board and then the following day – oh by the time the case had come up I was back in Palmerston so I had to travel over and the next day I was at court acting as court orderly and the court clerk said to me: ‘Constable when you’re finished the magistrate would like to see you.’ I thought: ‘Oh gosh, he’s going to follow up from, you know, yesterday.’ So anyhow I duly went into his room and he said: ‘Sit down constable,’ which was something unusual again, they usually make you stand, you know. He said: ‘I just want to talk about the matter yesterday.’ He said: ‘You obviously were quite upset at the way I spoke to you, you know, I was quite stern with you.’ He said: ‘It wasn’t for your ears really, it was for the defendant to think he’d got the constable into trouble.’ Because the blimmin publican a few days later had come in and saw me to apologise for getting me into trouble. I didn’t let on that I’d seen the magistrate in between times. So it’s just the little things like this you know cropped up. But you met, as I said, all types of people. You’d try to help people. I got in trouble at Woodville because a guy couldn’t pay his fines but he said he could pay five pound a week. The order was for about ninety pound. It was an order for court and I was supposed to: ‘Either you pay the ninety pound or I pick him up and take him to the nearest jail,’ which happened to be Mount Crawford. And I sent this ten pound into the registrar of the court – Dannevirke and a few days later I get a ring from my boss. He said: ‘You’re in a bit of trouble,’ He told me that the registrar of the court had objected to me just only receiving ten – the five pound and I said: ‘Well the guy can’t afford it. What am I to do? Put him out on the street? Lock him up with no job? Put his family, you know.’ And I said to the boss: ‘If I had the money I’d have paid it and he can pay me back.’ Well I got told off for that. So you can’t do a damn thing right you know. You try to help people, which I’ve done all my life but no he said: ‘You just can’t do those sort of things. It’s an order of the court and you could be in real trouble if you fail to obey that order.’
IJ: Sounds like you were a couple of times.
RC: Yeah, I was. I learnt the hard way. But anyhow the strange thing was, they let me go and I told this guy, I showed him the official letter I got from the court. So he went out and got extra work and stopped going to the hotel, cause he was a bit of a boozer but not a drunken, but he certainly liked his pint or two and – but eventually he got it paid off. But it was just a warning to me

IJ: What was it about the police that kept you there all that time. What was it that you liked about it?
RC: I liked the challenge, mainly because of the variation of work. You’re dealing with all sorts of people, you’ve got the people like the complainants who had suffered through a burglary or whatever, you got the people who were the victims of road accidents maimed for life in some cases, you dealt with the families of people who’d been killed in road accidents, you were dealing with criminals. Some criminals I helped. I make no apologies for that. One guy I locked up and he left a wife and four children and so I just felt sorry for this family and so I went to a – my grocer and he made up a great big box of goodies, things that you’d think a family would need and had it delivered by his delivery boy. And the family were very appreciative because the husband wrote to me from prison – from Mount Crawford prison thanking me. And those sort of things – but it was the variation of work. One drunk could be quite nasty, quite vicious and others were quite funny, you’d have a laugh, you know, with them. I’ve never ever had a guy that I locked up that ever turned on me again. I’ve had guys – in fact I was only talking to one this morning, he’s a butcher in town, I called on him this morning. I was in the area. And I used to lock him up several times with disorderly behaviour. You know, we’d never ever held any ill feelings. Other people that I’ve known I’ve locked up for burglaries and things, and firing guns and what have you, they all saw how serious it was as they grew on in life, you know. And when I had my big cancer operation in 1982 I got a letter out of the blue from a guy in New Plymouth, I’d barely forgotten his name then I suddenly remembered who he was and he was firing shots with a BB gun around town, you know. And he half-pie threatened me when I come to take the gun off him but then he put it down and he really said how sorry he was. So I never reported the fact that he had pointed the gun at me. You know, and I could’ve. They would have been a lot more trouble. But his mother had read or heard that I was in hospital after a serious cancer operation and wrote and told him and that is how he came to write to me.
IJ: You struck humanity at every level.
RC: Well I tried to be. You try to be. But, you know, we’ve had a few bad eggs in the job and lately I’m just horrified what’s going on at the moment. But – and I only know one of them – and I worked with him and it just astounds me that he’s even involved. But I’ve made some wonderful friends in the police, you know. And there’s many incidents that you could talk about.
IJ: Ok, we could talk about those people in a moment, but could you just talk about your late wife.
RC: Right, now in 1979 I met her. And then in 1982 we were married, March of that year. 1985 I was asked to go to the police college to take on computer training as the senior sergeant down there was discovered he had cancer and wasn’t very well at all. And, but I was allowed to come home in the weekends. And one particular weekend I came home and I noticed it was pretty quiet and she was sort of holding her stomach. And I said: ‘What’s the matter?’ And she said: ‘Oh I get pains every now and again.’ So I said: ‘Will you please see the doctor, you know, arrange to see the doctor on the Monday.’ Which she did. But the following Monday I came home, oh she was given tablets, you know, and I would ring her during the week and the following Monday I came home – the following weekend I came home and she didn’t appear well at all. So when I got back to the college I rang her GP and asked whether he could arrange for a scan, I said: ‘I think it requires a scan.’ I said, ‘She’s a person whose never had an illness in her life.’ Rarely ever saw a doctor. So, this was arranged very quickly and the next thing I knew, I received a call at the college to ring the GP, which I did and he then said that the surgeon wanted to have a yarn with us. So we arranged a date. By this time I was just finishing up at the college. And we went over to see him. And he then broke the news that she had cancer and he wasn’t even going to open her up. The scan revealed it was quite bad and was spreading. As you can well imagine this came as a great shock to both of us and then the nurse took her out of the room and I stayed behind with the surgeon – Mr Haye it was. And I said: ‘Are you suggesting a time frame – like 12 months, 18 months. He said: ‘Oh no, probably two or three months.’ Which hit me and that was around May when this was all done and then August of 1985 she passed away. We had the Cancer Society and hospice people tremendous support and we’d have – they would come morning and afternoon and then we had a night nurse came in and from 10pm to 6am, which allowed me to go to bed. I had tremendous support from all our friends and then a group of volunteer nurses – volunteers from the hospital where she did voluntary work, helped people on a voluntary basis, and they came in to me one day and with the doctor and said: ‘Right you’re taking the day off today, get right out of it. Don’t come back till late this afternoon.’ And those sort of things just gave you a break. But it really hit me so hard because she gave me so much support up till that time with the project of researching, writing the book. In fact it was her idea that – I can remember the night she said it. ‘Is it possible for you to record all the names of all these people that served in all these stations?’ And I said: ‘Well, I don’t know.’ I said: ‘I haven’t seen any records of who served, you know.’ But as a result of what she said I made enquiries and discovered that there was records available at the Police College right up until the early 1940s for every station from day one. So then I went to our district clerk who is now called a CEO in most organisations and he produced what I called the ‘little red books’. And there were six books of A5 size and in it in 1941 the district clerk of the day has started recording the in and out movements of every person who came to our district. The date he arrived and then it might be two or three books later, the day he left. So when I went through these and I started to put these names down, the date he arrived in the station and then, as I said, it could have been two or three books later, when I found he’d left. So I was able to go up and record it. And if you’ve seen my book you’d notice the staff that have been listed and there’s only about six dates of the whole lot out of all the districts that I was unable to complete. Today there’s no way could that be done. Because it’s all done through computers and those old handwritten records are not available. And they become very valuable books. And I treasure them, that are in my archives and it’s amazing how everybody remarked on the fact that I was able to do that. Many districts tried to do it they did it by year in most cases but not the actual date they arrived and why I emphasis the date a person arrived, or the date he left it meant that if families wanted to find out further information they had a date to be guided by if they went to the newspaper concerned. And quite often, particularly in the early days, the local newspaper would say that: ‘Constable Bloggs has arrived from Wanganui to take up duties,’ whatever station it was. And quite often they would give a decent write-up about his previous police career.
IJ: Because the local newspapers did that then didn’t they.
RC: Yes, exactly.
IJ: People who had arrive, policeman, priests, teacher, anything like that.
RC: Yes and that has helped many people. I think I may have told you earlier. that one of my hobbies is doing research for families who have had relatives in the police and because I only recorded the dates they came into our district and the dates they left I was unable to give much detail – well I didn’t give detail of previous history, but it was available to me if they wanted me to do it. Which I did in 90% of the cases. They became very important for these people because on a number of occasions after I sent the reports off to the various families they would write back and say: ‘We went to Wellington to do research and we went to the National Library of New Zealand,’ where they dug out the papers of say the West Coast or Canterbury of where ever and were able to find these stories, way back in the early days in particular.
IJ: So you gave them the trigger points to enable them to do that.
RC: Exactly. They knew the dates they had left a station or arrived at a station and that’s why I emphasise the importance – not the year, because if you give a year it could cause massive problems. Just to give you an example of that, I had a ring from the local archives department and they, one of the ladies there said that she’d had a letter from a guy, a historian in Welling – ah in Auckland. And he was trying to find out about the hangman Tom Long who had died round about 1908. He was the hangman from 1897 to 1907. And thought to have retired to Wanganui. So they had nothing there because this historian in Auckland had been suggested to him, he may have been in Palmerston North at one stage. Well I had no record of him. So anyhow I decided to – I went to Massey University Library and looked through their tapes and newspapers and things and then I sort of got a lead which indicated December of 1908. And I went right through every column because sometimes there would be a little snippet about a person dying or whatever. I looked at death notices first of course in the newspaper and then I had to go right back to December 1st and go through again. And it wasn’t till December the 16th where I suddenly they had in large print: ‘The sergeant of police at Wanganui.’ The into the normal print, had been reported to him that the hangman Tom Long had been killed in a bush accident up at some place just north of Wanganui.10 And, of course, I dug this and went through all the newspapers and sure enough here’s a full detail of what had happened. He had been felling bush for the natives of the area and unfortunately for him a log had fallen on him and killed him. The amazing thing was that two days later they had the Coroner’s Court, two days later. I’d known coroner’s cases – two years later. You’ll never get a Coroner’s Court today that talks in just days after an incident. And they used to have coroner’s juries in those days and all the evidence would be, probably from some of the natives would have given evidence and the policeman that went to the scene and that type of thing. Put before the coroner and the jury and a decision was made. He died as a result of injuries received in an accident.11 And that was that.
IJ: But you were able to find all this out. But quite laborious.
RC: Yeah but of, course I had to, what I failed to mention, I had to get the information sent from the Wanganui library, the microfiche down, which I was able to put through the machines at the library at the college. And that cost me $5 to get that. I got a receipt, you know, all the rest of it and I duly put this report into this guy in Auckland with the receipt to say it had cost me $5. I wasn’t asking for any fee for research, it took me some hours. Never heard from him again. You know, little things like that. Just a bit annoying. All the effort you go to and he just didn’t accept why should he pay $5. But I had to. So, that was one of the nasty things that come out of helping people.
IJ: Yes, you get all sides of human nature don’t you.
RC: Oh yes exactly.
IJ: As well as, you mentioned the little red books and there were many other sources of names and scrabbled in ceilings and did all sorts of odd things didn’t you with your research?
RC: Yes, when I went around the stations, one of the things I had in the car was a set of overalls. Grubby-looking overalls and quite often you’d have to, you’d find the trap door into the ceiling and you’d say to the officer-in-charge, it might have been a constable in a one-man station or, for instance Pahiatua, I said to the sergeant: ‘Would you mind if I climbed up into the ceiling.’ I can remember him saying: ‘What the hell you wanna go up there for?’ You know. I said: ‘Oh I might find somebody of interest.’ And I was glad I did because up there I found a pile of the old police diaries. It was a book about two-foot six in length and about twenty inches wide. And it was the diary of the station and each day the member or members had to record their duties. And the time they started, any incidents during the day, whether they went to any road accidents or a column for arrests, any meals that they had to buy. Because quite often you would see in the record where a constable left the station on his horse Trigger and he’d go off into the wild bush looking for Joe Bloggs and while he was away he might have had to go through a settlement where he had to make a purchase of a meal. One recording I will often giggle about was the Woodville policeman. He’d had a telegraph communications from Masterton Police, Constable Cooper where Constable Cooper wanted to confer with the Woodville policeman and suggested they meet at Eketahuna on a particular day at a particular place so, of course the Constable of Woodville got on his horse and he then changed horses at Pahiatua at the livery and went on. And then had his conference and then came back and sometimes it would be very late at night before he got back. Sometimes they may have to hire a horse and trap which would normally cost ten and six pence or twelve and six pence, it varied in different places and if they considered it too far for the horse to go for a break. But in this diary it recorded in the meal column: ‘meal for self, one and six pence, meal for horse, and in brackets (chaff and oats) one and six pence.’ So you couldn’t say that the constable ill-treated his horse. He got the same value, but he had to buy from the livery or wherever to feed his horse. But all those diaries from Pahiatua, I took possession of, and they started from day one, right through to the 1960s when the use of the diaries stopped. But when I took them to National Archives in Wellington I mentioned: ‘Have you got any other diaries from
?’ And I named the station, you know, and they came out with all these diaries. Each one from Day 1. Now they’re the only stations that I was able to do a complete day-by-day record which helped with incidents for my book.
IJ: They would be a great insight into policing of the day, wouldn’t it?
RC: Oh absolutely. And see I used to relieve at Woodville and Eketahuna on that side of the range, on the Eastern side of this range and from 1960 – 66. Course I naturally looked up Woodville’s diaries in those years and here’s all my records recorded, and the same with Eketahuna. And brought back memories of some of the incidents, you know. In Eketahuna when the doctor and I got called to a guy who was threatening to shoot his neighbours and everybody else. And, of course, I had to arm myself with a pistol and a rifle from the station, went out and sitting behind a tractor in a paddock, trying to talk the guy into giving himself up and the odd bing hitting the tractor. Well I tell you it wasn’t very pleasant but eventually he gave himself up and he ran out of ammunition I think I never even got a shot away! So just as well too. But to think that here’s all those diaries from those stations. Someone – obviously the officer-in-charge had decided to send them to National Archives because they were crowding up his station. But on this side, I only found two diaries from Foxton. No other station.
IJ: They hadn’t been kept.
RC: Well either they were destroyed, but they certainly were never sent to National Archives. And once again I emphasise just how much history we lost through the failure of people in the stations not doing this. If a directive had come from say Police Headquarters for this to be done then we would have had some marvellous records. But there was one book at Foxton that is now down at the Police Museum where the – it was a book of memos from the Commissioner’s Office. And it was sent to the Officer-in-charge of Palmerston North and in it this memo it said: ‘Would you please instruct the Police Constable at Foxton to make sure that the local residents do not remove the driftwood from the Manawatu River bank.’ It was quite amusing because it helped to build up so that any floods came along it wouldn’t be there to help support the bank. But silly little things they came up. But they all had to be sent to every station and the constable would note it in return back. But he would have to record in his book the fact that the memo. And course we didn’t have photocopiers in those days to actually do it. But to find that book it was priceless and I could quote you the page number – 109 of that particular one because I’ve used it when I’ve talked to many organisations and actually taken it to them. I found that people doing genealogy - when I spoke to their organisation they took a great interest in these sort of books because they just didn’t know when they were going to find something. It was really good.
IJ: That whole history – I guess, it grew on you I mean you obviously have interest, but it started out with that suggestion that you might be involved in it. It’s become an all-encompassing thing in your life really, hasn’t it.
RC: Oh, the more I got into it, the more I realised just what I was finding out about a district. See no one knew at that time that we had a station at Mangatainoka, we had a station at Makuri and has a station at Awahuri out here, in those days the 1890s, Awahuri had their rugby club, their tennis club they had a livery there, they had a few general store and all this sort of thing. And they appointed a policeman there. Ok, admittedly he was only there for six months and that was just up Green’s Road. And I met a lady who remembered that constable, she’s elderly, she died many years ago, of course, but people are quite amazed about all the little things about stations that were only there for a short time but they were there.
IJ: The police in those days were very much of the community too weren’t they.
RC: Oh yes. They had to be part of the community because people had to look to them for advice or guidance and whatever problems they may have. In the early days and I take Levin as a good example when they had no police there, Levin had more or less started because as you are aware, Levin is inland from the coast but in the early days the general trend was for settlements to follow the shoreline and particularly from Wellington up to say, Wanganui where we had stations. And where there was rivers, like when they came to the Otaki River it was too deep to cross at the mouth of the of the river. So people came inland and then found a way to cross and then go down and then follow what they called ‘runners’. They started off with Maoris who would carry the mail of foot. And then eventually they built tracks and things where they could use horses to do the same job. But the – So in Levin they found they needed a policeman but no one had been appointed. So the locals were asked by the Wellington Secretary of the Province to appoint or select somebody to be a district constable. They would then in turn, look around, perhaps a meeting and one would be nominated. The information would be relayed to the Secretary of the Province and he in turn would then say: ‘yes you are logistic constable.’ He could have been a farmer, anybody, but someone that someone could go to. And he was issued with a set of handcuffs, a rifle and a pistol and a baton. And I think, from memory, there was a notebook to record things. Or notebooks which were sent to him. And, of course, from time-to-time he would report any incidents to Wellington. And they - and then eventually, this guy resigned and he then – it was decided then that the district was growing in Levin, so they then made an appointment of a constable for the district.
IJ: These people who took on the job as district constable, were they every given any training or

RC: No, but I’m glad you brought that up because as it happened this particular guy – the farmer – had been a policeman in England for about 10 years, I think from memory. And, so when they found out, course he was a natural choice. But he had immigrated to New Zealand and took on farming.
IJ: That role of police has evolved over the years obviously quite a lot, but there’s still that community role.
RC: Oh yes. I just found out recently that two of the constables in Ashhurst are very much involved in their job out there. The former, he’s now deceased, Constable Keith Rowe, he ended up as the Mayor of Ashhurst at one part. Now policeman way back and I’m talking the 40s and 50s, weren’t allowed to be involved in politics. But they could get involved in community politics I suppose, city council, borough council those sort of things. And many – the Mayor of Greymouth was a local – one of the local constables. In Timaru, one is the Deputy Mayor, he was a senior sergeant down there. A guy from Wairoa, who became involved and then he decided he wanted to step in for the Labour Party and then he applied to the Commissioner to get permission but he was told to do in central government, he would have to resign from the police and stand and if elected then he would have to resign – pull out of the police all together. You may recall in the last General Election in Palmerston North when a police inspector – Dave Scott stood against Steve Maharey, but he had to stand down from duties. He campaigned, he ended up halving Steve Maharey’s vote and – but because he didn’t get in, then of course, he had to put a report to the effect he wanted to carry on his police duties and he just naturally just carried on.
IJ: But all those other things in the community, and of course, this relates back to your own history where you were – had been over most of your life actively with all your athletics and sport.
RC: Exactly, oh yes. I liked to have got involved. You were on various committees. I remember one year where they brought out health stamps showing a scout and a guide on it and the campaign got together and asked if scouts and guides could make the effort of selling health stamps and I took on the task of organising the whole of Palmerston North. I divided, I had many maps supplied to me by the City Council of Palmerston and I broke the Palmerston North up into areas and issued and say Te Awe Awe Scouts that’s your area, that’s your boundaries and your to cover every street in your area. And then the next one might be the All Saints’ Guide Company. And they were to do a particular block and I was able to get every scout and guide troop to cover the whole of Palmerston North and they went out all the stamps – that was a big job because one of the headaches I had: if they happened to be selling stamps on a particular day and it might have been a bit wet by handling the stamps all the time they’d get a bit sticky, but we would overcome it and various troops had various containers to carry their stamps in. But we broke a record and I think it was a national record for the sale of stamps. And, you know, you got a few praises from – I remember old A. E Mansford12, the Mayor giving me heaps of praise for the organisation. But I was only a pin head, it was the people who did the job, but someone had to start it off.
IJ: Put it all together. Cause you went right up in Scouts?
RC: Yes right through to a Commissioner. For the southern area – yes the southern area.
IJ: I’d like to go back to a little of your own police career because we’ve talked a little of that, with all the history and the other things, but at the core of that, you were a policeman and there have been many incidents, no doubt, in that policing career, some of which you are still bearing the scars from, literally. Tell me a little of the ones that spring to mind. The sort of highlights – or lowlights, if you like of policing.
RC: Well, once you got into - your first duties were of course, on the beat. And when you’re on the beat, after – particularly in the late 1950s and they had the power cuts and the lights of the city were cut off at eleven o’clock at night. The timing was really surrounded when the picture theatres would come out at 10:30 or around 10:30 and allowed people to walk through the streets in safety and get off to their homes. But then all the lights would – complete darkness. And all you had, and you had to make sure you had a torch that worked. It was a police-issue. And of course you had to do all the doors on your beat to check that they were locked. I remember once in King Street coming to a door, and you’d just naturally – you knew where the door handles were after a while, you didn’t have to shine your torches just put your arm out and felt. And this particular night, turned the handle and all of a sudden the door opened. Well I don’t know whether you’ve ever had goose pimples but to me they felt like boils because you thought: ‘good heavens somebody has gone into this building.,’ and you just stood there and listened for some time. You wouldn’t hear a thing. But in this particular night was a rat that was running around and just made little noises and - but of course then you turned your torch on. Then you’d catch glaring eyes looking at you, you know, with this rat. And you’d have a giggle to yourself. Sometimes you were too embarrassed to tell your workmates you were scared, you know. But – and I always remember another door I found unlocked, it happened to be my dentist. And he was upstairs next to where the ANZ bank is in the Square today. A Mr Scott. And I opened the door and then I found that I heard noises upstairs and I thought: ‘oh well this is not a rat.’ So I took my shoes off and I very carefully climbed up the stairway. Now I’d been up the stairway on a number of occasions when I’ve paid a visit to the dentist.. And I couldn’t recall any squeaky boards, you know, which would give you away. So I got to the top and then I listened, and I could hear someone in a room and then I could see a flick of light. So I knew someone was in the – now in those days you didn’t have phones – cell phones or anything to call up, you’re on your own. So, I crept up to this door which was slightly ajar, I could still hear movement, so it was obviously he didn’t hear me and then I somehow tripped a wee bit and went up against a wall. And then there was silence. And I thought: ‘Now where is he?’ So I decided to stand back from the door and I brought my big hefty left foot up and I booted the door , because I thought if I was in the same position I would get in behind the door. And this guy did just that and when I kicked the door it flattened him against the wall and I rushed in with the torch and then I was able to grab him.
IJ: Straight out of the movies.
RC: Yeah it was and, of course I flicked the light on and then made him lay down and bring his arms back and out come the hand cuffs. Whew, you know quite relieved. And I was able to ring the police station on the doctors – dentist’s phone and of course, they had to relay the message to the only patrol car we had, only one car in those days and eventually they came round and grabbed him and then I was able to secure the premises. But, of course, the early shift which started at five in the morning had to then go to the premises – he would have by this time, had found out that his place had been burgled, or whatever, because of the papers and things scattered around. So we didn’t know whether anything had been stolen though there was nothing on the offender cause he would have been searched when he got to the station. And you always used to make sure you searched the back of the car when they got out too, cause these guys would take things out of their pockets and try and shove them down the back of the seat, you know. But old Bruce – I think his name was Bruce Scott, he was quite chuffed to think one of his clients had caught this offender.
But many years later, and if you’ve ever seen my book, where the honesty box is, where there was a report from the Standard that people were pinching the papers out of the honesty boxes. So, I - my first thoughts – I was given the task of trying to get these offenders. The one way was to climb up, or get in behind the trees in the Square, but then I realised I was too far away from the honesty box. So then I got the brain wave of having the box shifted about four feet just from Duran the jewellers, cause I could see very clearly because of the angle of the glass from the jewellers shop from the little letter slot in Mr Scott the dentist’s room because the postman would come along and just poke the mail through, you know, and of course the dentist nurse would then come along and collect all the mail. And so I saw Mr Scott and he said: ‘Ray there’s no trouble here’s a key.’ So I was able to let myself in, just after starting time, the honesty boxes would be put there around about six in the morning. And then I had a match and I was able to just open up the letter slot enough for me to see through and I had a – we tried it with a constable and you can make out he’s putting money in, you know, because there was no provision to giving change and of course they had to put four pence in the box and, I always remember one guy coming out and he had six pence and he put the six penny piece in the box and took the newspaper, didn’t bother about the tuppence change, you know. But I knew the guy and he said that the next day he would get his change back by only putting two pence in you know. But then another guy, who I also knew, in fact I was in the pipe band with him, he’s now deceased. And I thought: ‘This guy he’s a bit of a, bit of a wag-a-band time and he poked his hand into his pockets and then only came out with not enough money and then he had another coin which was a shilling so he knew he wouldn’t get any change, so he put his money back in and didn’t even take a newspaper. So he must have got one later in the day. But I caught seven of those guys and we put them before the court – of then I rushed – when I caught a guy, I grabbed him, rushed him down to the post office where we had a guy inside the little area and he then in turn rushed him across the road and went in the back entrance of the police station where he was processed. Then he’d had to go back to get the next guy. And we went before the court and D G Sinclair was the magistrate, and all these offenders got up. And the funny thing was that four of them were represented by the same lawyer and the other three by another lawyer in town. But they had been told by their lawyer that all they had to say, and they want him to give evidence, that they intended to pay for the paper later in the day at the newspaper office. It was up to the magistrate to think to himself, is the honesty being honest with the court or is he telling a pack of lies. And, he had to discharge them all but warn them that he had doubts about their stories but because they’d given evidence on oath that he was letting them go. But the strange thing was, the next day, my superintendent called me to his office and said: ‘ I want you to go across to the courthouse, the registrar will be waiting for you because the magistrate want to see you.’ What the devil have I done now? And so I reported to the registrar a Mr Seebeck, who then in turn took me to the magistrate, he took me in and the magistrate said to Mr Sebeck: ‘Your no longer required thank you, you can return to your duties.’ And the magistrate said to me, or discussed the case with me from the previous day. He said: ‘I have no doubts that those buggers were pinching the newspapers,’ but he said: ‘as you know, in the definition of theft, it is that you intend to deprive the owner permanently of that item.’ And so he just relieved my mind because he had to choose, whether I was telling the truth or whether the defendants were. But I’ve never forgotten that.
IJ: As a policeman did you feel on trial at times?
RC: Yes you felt that you’d done something wrong. I had another occasion when I was relieving at Woodville. And there was four pubs there. And each pub was out to try and get a bit of after-hour trading. I’d been warned prior to going there and even by the constable who I was to relieve when he went on leave, that these guys will try and carry on with after-hour trading and he wanted them knocked off. And being the local police, it was hard for them because they were then looked upon as bad news for the local policeman, so they used to get in the flying squad from Palmerston or when it came to relieving time he would get someone to come in and do the job. And there was a new publican at the Railway Hotel. Said he had worked in a hotel but had never been in possession of a licensee. And, of course I questioned him about the when I met him about the Licencing Act of 1908 and I hoped he was familiar with it and asked him if he had the Act in the hotel. He said he didn’t. I then said: ‘Well I’ll lend you my Licencing Act for one week and I want you to study it. Because after I get it back from you if I find that your after-hour trading or selling to anybody under 21-years of age, then you’ll be booked.’ Well this guy religiously said he had read the book and he knew everything about it. A week later I got an anonymous call to say the Railway Hotel was trading after hours. I’d been there at about quarter past six at night, it was six o’clock closing in those days and so I went down about half past ten and of course the place was chocker block. Obviously it was one of the other pubs ringing. Wouldn’t have been the licensee cause I would have recognised their voices probably, but there would have got someone to ring. So anyhow I charged this guy with what they call ‘opening, exposing and selling. Also, I took the names of all the persons in the bar. Some sneaked out while I was taking names. But you couldn’t avoid that being on your own. So he pleaded – then I got a ring from a lawyer, a Mr Lusk, who later became a Queen’s Council. And I – and then a few days before the trial, by this time I was back in Palmerston North. But this lawyer rang me. He said: ‘Oh Ray I’m letting you know that I’m withdrawing from this case,’ He said, ‘as far as I’m concerned this guy is guilty,’ he said: ‘I have heard what you’ve got to say through your prosecutor and the sergeant at Pahiatua. But this guy still wanted to plead not guilty.’ Well he then – we went to the court case in Pahiatua and I stood up and gave my evidence and that I said on a previous occasion I’d warned him about trading and I’d let him off with this warning and given him the book on the Licencing Act. And then, after I gave my evidence he then asked the defendant, the licensee of this hotel, whether he wanted to ask any questions of the constable and he said no. He said: ‘Are you saying that the constable’s evidence is correct?’ And the guy said: ‘Yes’. And he said: ‘Do you want to give evidence on oath?’ And the guy said: ‘oh, not really.’ He said: ‘well you’d better get in this box, your defending this case, because I’ve got some questions to ask.’ So me made him get in the box. And he then heard what the guy said, he’d been trading and had been caught. So he called me back into the box and he said: ‘Constable, where do you get your authority to warn anybody? It’s your duty if you find an offence committed is to put a report into your superiors. It’s their decision as to whether they give a warning, not yours.’ And he ripped into me. Well I was just dumbfounded. You think you’re doing your job and now you’re getting blasted for doing, and being nice to the guy, by warning him. So it was once again I was in that position of being called to the court the next day and he said D G Sinclair once again ‘Look’ he said: ‘look I just felt sorry for you, but I wanted to impress on the licensee that he was doing his job and he was going to convict him. But that’s one of those things that happened. And I’ve always remembered
.
(Recording stopped from 2:27:20 – 2:27:33)
RC: Oh there’s just so many incidents happen. Another one was a fatal accident in the Gorge and it was a guy overtaking everybody and he forced this jeep into the railings and the railings gave way and a piece of timber went right through the vehicle and pierced the woman who was a passenger. And he pleaded not guilty, he was a guy from Wellington. A traveller. Then eventually he was found guilty of overtaking because the Crown Solicitor of the time was Joe Ongley, who later became Judge Joe Ongley. And Joe said to me one day: ‘Ray I want to go out and look at the scene for the court case.’ Now I took a crayon out and I scrapped on some rocks the point where this incident had taken place because I was called to the scene at the time I was in charge of all fatal accident inquiries and hit-and-runs. And I could be called out any time day or night. Sometimes I’d be working anything up to 18 – 20 hours a day if after my normal duty I got a call out. And I’d take it right through to the court case. And this guy was fined £100 cheap for a death of a person, you know, I just could never get over it. And Joe Ongley said: ‘We’ve wasted our time, you know, in allowing this guy
’ It was in the Supreme Court and for this guy to get away so cheaply for this death. And in the, I was going to say hundreds of hours, but it would have been hundreds of hours, but an awful lot of work went into it because you’re the investigating officer right from the start. Cause once you got to the scene, whoever was at the scene, it would have been a sergeant, he knew I would be taking over the inquiry and he would say to you: ‘Do you want any of my men to stay behind and give you a hand?’ And I’d say: ‘Yes I could do one or two for measuring purposes, you know.’ And then he’d return to the station. But those sort of jobs, then I had another one of a big hit-and-run, happened outside the, or just north of the Awapuni raceway and this guy was walking to the races and he got hit from behind and it was obvious from the scene that a car had hit him from – and there was broken glass all the scene these guys had gone into the raceway they were later seen cleaning the car and then they must have left the scene of the raceway and then gone down and went down, I think it was Walker’s Road, from memory where a lady was washing her dishes. It was a trotting night, Ian and she happened to see the lights pull into this gateway and from the torches and things these guys had, she could see them wiping something down, you know, and didn’t think anything of it, didn’t ring the police. But when she heard the next day about this hit-and-run and wanting to know if anybody had seen a car - a damaged car. She walked over to the area and saw all this broken glass. So she came back and of course, I’d been put in charge of the inquiry instead of the CIB. So I had samples of glass from where the impact took place. I had samples of glass from where they’d tried to clean up inside the trotting grounds in the parking area, that was in separate envelopes and then I went to the riverbank and there was separate glass there. Now we advertised on the radio and the next thing we knew we had a ring from the Stratford Police. A garage there had reported a car being brought in that morning with shattered glass right throughout the car, broken windscreen, all the rest of it. And the owner came from Eltham. So the Superintendent Mahood said: ‘Right, I’d like you to go up there. I’ve spoken to the District Commander in New Plymouth whose given permission for you to go in to his district and to ask for any assistance from the officer-in-charge of that station and if you want to take someone, you can do so.’ So I took a Constable Herbert. I examined the car, we took samples from the car and, of course, at that stage we couldn’t prove it but we – it looked, and appeared that the car – the glass, the broken glass was the same as all the other areas. So I eventually took all those to the DSIR and they were able to prove beyond doubt. I also took samples of paint found at the scene of impact, couldn’t find any at the parking area, but we found some certainly down Walker’s Road. Now that – what they were doing, they were ripping bits of carpet off the floor of the car and bringing it out to wipe it. And in doing so they were knocking flakes of paint off. It was an older car. And the – this guy incidentally, who was injured, was unconscious for 40 days. I knew the guy and he eventually died. And – but I was able – these flakes of paint that I took to the DSIR the guy on the machine over there was able to show me that that car had been painted seven times in its career. An amazing machine, although it was just a flake of paint they put it under this machine held in a little clamp and they were just able to blow it right up. And you could pick out the colours of the paint and, of course, match the paint on the car and the flakes off the car and, of course, we charged him. Now my own lawyer, he ended up being the lawyer for the defendant. I’d interviewed these guys in the Hawera Police Station and also the Eltham Police Station cause I’d struck the brothers – passengers. And they let one or two things slip and I knew I had him. But I interviewed them in the form of a question and answer statement, which was used in a murder case when I first joined the job. I’d never forgotten it. I found it a very good way of interviewing people. Where you wrote down the question you asked the person, and then you put ‘a’ for answer and his reply and then you put ‘q’ for question and then it went on – and so on. And it went to the court and he made – he was found guilty by the jury and, but he trapped his brother, got up and gave evidence and trapped himself and his brother in front of Joe Ongley. I can just see me sitting in the – where the press sat and Joe Ongley turned around and big smile all over his face and he gave me a wink. He knew that he had him, because this guy was tripping himself up.
[Brief Interruption]
RC: Now with this guy the victim regained consciousness in the hospital but he was unable to talk properly, he slurred in his speech and I could remember when I told him what had happened with the guy being given three months and he said to me: ‘I wonder what would have happened if I’d died at the scene. What would happen – what sentence he would have got?’ It was the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever experienced in my career in doing investigations into fatal accidents and things. And it was very sad because even a lot of lawyers in town said what a ridiculous it was, the sentence because a lot of people knew this guy in town, he was a great follower of rugby, he would be picked up by his team mates, taken to the grounds and he would be given a seat where he could watch his rugby. Everybody would help him up the stairs, you know it was just so sad to see him so badly injured. But eventually he died. But that was one of my best cases. But in that case the judge in his summing up, and this is going back to how you can try to help people. And when I interviewed the offending driver, I said to him: ‘Now before we start this interview, I’ve got to warn you that everything you say will be taken down in writing,’ and all the rest of it and could be used in evidence against him. I said: ‘If you wish to have a lawyer present, you can do so, we can stop this interview now,’ and he said: ‘No, no, I’ve got nothing to hide,’ you know. So we carried on. And I gave him all the help I could to be fair, you know, throughout the interview and I was even cross examined by his lawyer and in doing so the lawyer at the finish of the case – or the judge at the finish of the case congratulated me on the way I had conducted the inquiry in fairness of way. And the defence lawyer got up and agreed with him. But the thing was this lawyer was my own lawyer and it was nice to be recognised by a court that they considered you had given a fair precis of what had taken place and help the client you didn’t abuse your powers in any way and that was good. And never in my whole career did I ever have any defence lawyer or judge ever question the evidence you gave and I’m proud of that because, you know, today lawyers will try and trip up the guys. But the marvellous thing today Ian is the video recording of cases. And they just can’t dispute that. A defender can have his lawyer present and it’s all recorded on video and there’s no way that they can dispute those sort of questions put before the court.
IJ: Certain developments in technology must have made the policeman’s life easier.
RC: Oh absolutely. And saved court time. And then it also for a jury to be able to see the video, hearing what questions were put to the defendant and hearing the response. Now sometimes the defendant’s answers are not very clear. Sometimes he may be a guy who’s – well he may not speak well, he may not – he purposely tries to hide his answers or make it hard to understand but with technology they can bring it up somehow. No it’s marvellous.
IJ: One of the aspects of police life, and you would have come across this, is you see some horrific things, see some horrific sights. How do you cope with all that? Was there any support and assistance.
RC: Well there was no support. You were told at the training school that you were going to go out, you were going to be going to fatal accidents and things and there were going to be some pretty gruesome sights. I don’t know why I differed from other people, but strangely enough I was able to handle it. I found it difficult dealing with children around about the age of my daughter who was killed by going through a glass door when she was only eight and a half. And every time I used to see children on a mortuary table – on one occasion I said to the pathologist, I said: ‘Look, I’m afraid I’m going to stand down from this one because she’s the age of my daughter that was killed.’ He knew she’d been killed. He said: ‘No problem Ray.’ But when you come to accidents, where bodies are ripped apart, and I say ripped apart, where limbs are placed on, you placed them on the mortuary table separate, because they’re all in bags in the chiller until they we’re ready to do the post-mortem. But I’d worked from 1960 to half way through 1963 as a pathologist’s assistant. I had been trained by Dr Kineally, Dr Fulton, Dr Derby, Gillies, and several others and I got used to it. And I did 302 bodies in my work in the pathology over three and a half years. And I got hardened to it. Now why I was able to stand it, I don’t know. Whether it was when I was on a farm when my uncle would kill a pig or kill a sheep, you know, for putting – cut up to be butchered for the table. But, yet other simple things, I would crack up. You know, and that’s why I probably got put on the job for the Erebus13. Because if any experience in my career, if you could handle the Erebus story up in Auckland at the School of Medicine, 8 tables going all at once and then you could handle anything. And I was the only one – I said to the two psychiatrists who wanted to interview everybody and I said to my boss: ‘Look there’s no need.’ Once I got back from there I was at work the next day where my workmate, we shared the same motel, I had to get him sent home. He was a sergeant. He couldn’t handle it. He was walking around every night and he just couldn’t get over some of the sights he saw.
And – but they’re very unpleasant, I had to remove a guy’s foot that had jammed in an accident in Whakarongo Bridge. Ripped the whole of the left hand side of the car off there was bodies everywhere. And this guy was jammed in there and we couldn’t get the pedal – his foot was jammed underneath, it was hanging by a thread, a bit of flesh. And the fireman said to me: ‘This car’s going to go up in a minute, we’ve got to try and get him out,’ You know, I said, there’s a farmer there, he had a knife on him and I cut the bit of flesh where the fireman were able to pull him out. And it was a few minutes later that the car did catch fire but at least we had the fire brigade there to, you know, put it out. But, and I thought nothing of it. It was just something I had to do. Because if you didn’t do it and the fire brigade hadn’t been there he would have been incinerated.
IJ: Consequences would have been much worse.
RC: Oh absolutely. But, of course, the guy eventually died, not through me removing his foot he had massive internal injuries from the impression of the steering wheel into his chest.
IJ: Amazing life. And you too, you were saying you were involved in thinks like the ruckus in the Square.
RC: Yes. 1972 was a massive brawl between gangs of motor cyclists from Wellington right down to Canterbury.14 They were very vicious gangs. And of course, they wanted to have a go at the local Mongrel Mob in town here. I don’t know where the communication came from but they seemed to have planned it all to meet in the Square on the Saturday night. And we had limited staff and we didn’t know how many motor cycles were coming. But when it flared up in the Square and if you’ve seen my book you’ve seen a montage of photographs of the incident that night. But all hell broke loose. And these guys had – the bikies had motor bike chains which had been sharpened, they’d made wooden handles on one end, they were cut in half and were lashing some of these Mongrel Mob boys. A lot of them were teenagers. They had machetes, the guy that I tackled – I was struggling with one guy and I looked around and saw this bikie with a great big waratah standard and if you’d been on a farm you’ll know what a waratah standard is. Six foot steel and he was ramming the Maori boy on the ground and the rest of it, cutting him with a machete or hitting him with these chains. And you’re putting your own life in danger by interfering. But I just dived at this guy with the waratah standard and in doing so I tried to wrench it from him. But he let his bottom hand go and the waratah standard came back and got me on the knee cap and, of course, I was off work for two months. Now as I said to my bosses at the time: ‘He didn’t hit me deliberately, it was just the fact he let his hand go and it came back.’ But two of my cobbers who saw me on the ground, and there was photographs throughout New Zealand in the press, he had a dirty big trace chain around his neck that was another weapon that he could have lashed out with you, you know, and hit you. And it was a really nasty situation. And there was blood and stuff everywhere, all round the Square. And this reporter from the Evening Standard, I thought it was someone flicking their torches, I didn’t realise he was taking flashlight photographs of incidents and he took one of this scene that I was involved in which went right round New Zealand. In fact the photographers apparently have a competition and he got either first or second place for the best photograph for the year, you know, of this incident. But it was a nasty weekend, it was called the Easter uprising. But there was plenty of literature in the papers, it was sheer hell in there. And we were lucky we weren’t injured. But we ended up calling in men from Wellington, the Wairarapa, Hawkes Bay, Taihape, Wanganui, New Plymouth. And there was cars going hell-for-leather loaded with men, but unfortunately they got there when the battle in the Square was over, but they were able to help in contain the gangs. Because they went into hotels and fired shot guns, you know, everybody was just so scared of them. They were a vicious mob. They really were.
IJ: The little memories of – distant memory now.
RC: Yes, by jove yes.
IJ: What other incidents, spring to mind. I guess there are so many.
RC: Well, yes it’s difficult to – you could go into hotels and the funny side. One I recall, it was a Sunday and I was on with Sergeant Hardy and we went – paid a visit to the Café de Paris Hotel. Now you would go in the front door, you would see all round the bar there was seven once glasses of beer or nine ounces or whatever they were, and the bars would be wet, the place will be full of smoke, but not a sign of anybody. And of course, you’d rush through because you naturally thought that they’d all run out the back door. Anyhow when we got out the back door, or incidentally, Sergeant Hardy was well-known amongst the drinking fraternity he’d been really hard on pubs. He’d be the best sergeant I ever worked under, he was a great guy. But he put fear into those publicans. When we got out there, we came to the vegetable shed. They used to have a shed for all their vegetables and there might have been a shed for coal and coke or whatever. And here’s these guys all up sitting on top of the sacks of spuds and onions or whatever they are, making out that they were talking about a cricket game they were going to play against the next hotel – the Railway. So we went in there and the sergeant would say: ‘You, come here. What’s your name?’ And Sergeant Hardy, he had an unusual way of holding a pen, I’ll never forget it, he used to hold it this way when he wrote and he’d write away in his notebook, full details of the guy, took all the time he wanted and he said: ‘Have you been drinking?’ And, we’ll call him Mr Brown, ‘Oh not me sergeant.’ ‘Let me smell you breath.’ The guy would go <breath> ‘I think you have.’ So he’d record it that he could smell beer on his breath. Then he came to one guy who I knew but I didn’t know him by name and the sergeant asked him that question. I gotta laugh at this one and he had an idea, but he wasn’t sure so he said to me: ‘You do that to the constable.’ And this guy stood in front of me and he goes <breath> and you could smell it all right. And he said: ‘Oh I think he might have had a drink but I’m not certain.’ You know and this guy was looking at me and this guy now lives in Australia funnily enough. But I’ll never forget that, anyhow, they were all reported because it was obvious they had been in the bar, and they came to give their evidence. Once again it was D.G Sinclair the magistrate and the cunning old fox, he said: ‘Did you have that game of cricket?’ You know, cause they went in one at a time. And course all the rest were outside and they had to come in and give their evidence. And he said: ‘Yes.’ ‘Who won the game?’ ‘Oh we did sir.’ And ‘How many runs did your team score?’ And they might say 90 or whatever it was. He’d record this and ‘How many runs did you make?’ And he would make up a figure, you know. And course when each guy came in, all different scores, they didn’t expect to be asked this and the tally was quite different to what the runs they made and what the team scored, you know. Course they were all found guilty, you know. But it was quite hilarious and the magistrate said to the Defence Council and asked after you know when everybody had gone home, he said: ‘It took me all the time to keep a straight face because I knew I had ‘em. But you get those funny things, you know that happen.
And another time when Constable Abel and I and we were walking around the Square and heading towards Coleman Mall and we heard this breaking glass ahead of us and we just caught the glimpse of two guys coming out seconds later. So we took off. Course I was pretty fit in those days because I’d been doing a lot of running, you know, even up marathon running and things. I could last a fair distance. And I caught the guy I put my eye on, grabbed him and then I thought: ‘Well I’ve got him there’s no car around, so I handcuffed him around a lamp post. ‘You’re not going to lift that lamp post out. And so I went off and we went through George Street into Main Street and the guy – I could see my cobber way in the distance tailing this guy. And the guy went through – it doesn’t exist today - but it was sort of a under the railway when you could come out into Church Street and anyhow we lost this guy in the railway yards. But we spent a lot of time because guys would hide under the railway wagons parked there, you know, you had to go up and down, they could have been watching you, they could have ducked row to row. Oh gosh it was a hopeless job. Then we went back to supper and all of a sudden said, the other guy said: ‘What did you do with your guy?’ ‘Oh’ I said ‘I handcuffed him around the ...’ We went back to get him, I don’t know how to put this, he sort of had an accident and we didn’t want to touch him, so anyhow, we got his name and details and we were able to verify that. And he – we told him we would let him go because we didn’t want bad smells around the cells and we’d bring him up on summons for burglary. But they admitted it all we had our notebooks. So eventually he told us who his cobber was. But his cobber came in anyhow early the next morning and gave himself up and he was charged with burglary. It’s just one of those things, you know. But you see there was no communication, that was your problem. Police have got cell phones today, they can call for help. You had to rely on a man biking along in the pitch black and all you could see was the light of a bicycle coming towards you. If you wanted help you would stop this guy, he was going on the railway there on his way to work. ‘Would you mind hopping around to the station and letting the station know I need help in Rangitikei Street say.
Another time, there was a lot of little factories and things off – or at the back of buildings in Rangitikei Street and there was a service station about half way down but behind that there was a dry cleaning place. And this particular night a Constable Stephens was doing this side of the road and I happened to be doing the other side. We were double checking we were doing all the back alley ways and they were pretty scary because they were pitch black. And you would sort of walk quietly and listen for noises, you know. And anyhow this night he found this door to the dry cleaning place slightly ajar. So he listened for some time and he could hear movement towards the other end. So he pushed the door and I remember him saying: ‘Gosh I hope this blimmin door doesn’t squeak.’ And he sort of shaded his torch cause he felt there was something just inside the door. And it turned out to be a heap of dry cleaning clothes already dry cleaned. So, he then came out on the street and gave me the signal with his torch needing assistance. It was a SOS but with a torch. And, so I went over and we went down. So we drew our batons and as we went in there were rows of racks with all the dry cleaning hanging on them. So anyhow the first thing you did was to bend down and shine your torch to see if you can see any legs, you know. And he could see some legs but obviously he was lifting himself on the rail. So we knew that he wouldn’t hang on too long. So, he just walked down the row, he got his baton out and he could just see the hands on the rail. And he’d go bang bang and the guy dropped, you know. So, we got a burglar. You know, but he had all these, course they were pounds, shillings and pence in those days. But pounds worth of dry cleaning already to go out to the shops, you know, for distribution. But it just shows you how you can catch these guys from time to time.
IJ: Oh excuse me, I think my cell phone’s about to ring. Oh no I just heard it. Your, sort of, scouting, you police life, your history work and your athletics, your running and that. And you did that for many, many years. And in fact, your memory lingers on with events named after you. Tell me about that.
RC: Well they had the Ray Carter run recently. It was three guys at the station who felt that something should be done to say thanks for the work I’d done amongst staff of getting them interested in athletics and things. You know, I had guys, senior rank to me senior detectives and things, I got them out running marathons and things, you know. One was, he ended up as Chief Superintendent Alan Galbraith, who was the head on the inquiry on the – blew up the Greenpeace ship in Auckland.
IJ: Rainbow Warrior.
RC: Yeah Rainbow Warrior. And then another guy, a chap called Warren Pratt who ended up as Chief Superintendent in Wellington for CIB. Warren – when they had last Waitangi day weekend the Armed Offenders Squad for the district, it was their 40th anniversary. And a guy from the station organised it. It took him over two years, I think. And he recorded every guy and I helped him through my material that I had. I would have built up the names of all these people. And they had it out here at the Rifle Range just for a start off. They had various functions, like a church function and a dinner and all that sort of thing. A remembrance time for some of the men who’d passed on. And, but this guy, he missed me. I went out to see him, I was pretty crook at the time. I intended to stay half an hour, but I stayed and hour. I caught up with guys who were in charge of Armed Offenders Squad like George Wood who’s now been Mayor of

IJ: Takapuna or Waitakere?
RC: Takapuna, you know that area. And he was the Detective Inspector here. And it was great to catch up with him. And many others, you know, guys and dog handlers and things and they came from America and Australia for it. But I missed this guy and he came and he asked where I was cause he’d heard that I’d been there. He made a point of coming in and he wanted to talk about his running days, you know. Matter-of-fact we just had a de-brief last week on it. And we’re going to change just one or two things. And – but I enjoyed getting these guys out and getting involved in running. And I had 17 guys ran the Feilding to Palmerston race. It was sponsored by the local newspaper the Guardian I think it was. And I used to get these guys out training, you know, after work. I’d get pretty tough on it if I found they’d not been – hadn’t done enough training but those were the sort of things that the kids – or the guys enjoyed. And the challenge that I put to them and as I said to you on a previous occasion, I did anything from 800 metres to 10 000 metres on the track but I never won a race on the track. But once I got into Harriers it was a different story, I did quite well in the Harriers. And the longer the distance the better. And of course, I ended up running marathons, you know against Arthur Lydiard and those sort of guys. And you know if I get to a sports meeting and Arthur’s there we always get together and have a beer and talk about the odd races we were in. And even Peter Snell and Murray Halberg. See I ran against Murray Halberg in Harrier races and that sort of thing. But, of course, you only see the back of him, he never saw your back. I can assure you of that. He was too quick for us. But they were good old days. You know, if kids today got themselves in sport and you find that very few that are in sport, never get themselves into trouble. But you always get these young people who decide to ‘Oh I can’t be bothered playing sport, I’ll go and have a puff of wacky backy, you know, or get into these drugs and course today with this P drug around, I don’t know a great deal about them but you’ve only got to read the paper, and you, no doubt, in your job would probably hear about it or see in the papers. And it’s going to be a bad news in the next year or two because it’s spreading so big and all the gangs are involved. Gangs own millions of dollars’ worth of property, they really do. Most of them have given up doing the bank robberies now, armed bank robberies because it’s easier to manufacture P and whatever. Very, very sad to see that happening.
IJ: Do you think that policing is now a more difficult job than in your day?
RC: Oh yes. Mainly Ian because of the fact that weapons are involved. I can recall the odd guy that might have picked up a fence pailing or baton, a bit of 2X2 or something. Try to have a whack at you. But there was no knives drawn, or guns drawn. I mean I’ve been at the end of a gun, you know, a couple of times, it wasn’t very pleasant but the - today when you see guys going into situations and a guy’s stabbed and it may not necessarily – and of course, as we well know today with gangs, they try to outdo each other because if the Black Power find that the Mongrel Mob have stepped into their patch and have taken over – or tried to take over the drug scene look out! They’ll bring out a gun and shoot you. Look at the trouble in Highbury you know, just unbelievable. But, I was just talking to Jenny Park the other day, the detective who got shot and she’s walking around pretty well you know. And, but and then I was disturbed - see where we started the Ray Carter run recently, I didn’t even know it was there, I was just walking around waiting for the start and I see this plaque with a tree behind it in memory of Duncan

IJ: Duncan Taylor15
RC: Yeah and I don’t know, I just get so annoyed and concerned. If I ever felt – I intend to do it, I’ve got to get hold of Craig Sheridan at the station to see if they are having any organised search for the plaque. I wouldn’t want it to be published that we were doing it, you know, because the offender might just shoot down and shift it , or I’m picking it will be in the river but however these things happen. No with the running, we used to go to some great meetings around the district. You know, your prize would be a cup, saucer and plate, you know. Or a book token or something like that. But that’s all you ran for and you were quite happy with that. But professional sports today, of course, it’s all this big money. No good.
IJ: Amazing money. And you’ve never really left the police force have you?
RC: No, I’ll be with them right to the end. I’m at the station at least once a week, sometimes two or three times. Whether it’s over organising a photograph to be copied or whether it’s for some other reason. I think I may have told you, they want to do all my photographs now on CD-Rom and they’ll satisfy the National Archives and the National Library and Police Museum and the local archives. So they’ve all got copies of every photograph that I have. And, of course, there’s over 600 I have mounted and, incidentally I will show you some before you go. But when we shift to the new premises, the old power building, the CEO here stopped me one day when I was at headquarters, regional headquarters in Cuba Street, he said: ‘By the way Ray we’ve got a room for you, for your archives in the new building.’ Now that really enlightened me because I struggled with the little room I’ve got where they are today, it’s just lack of room. And so I’ve been going and packing up stuff and getting it taken to the Police Museum, you know. But when I see the room and see what shelving’s required and then I’ll have all the photographs there. So no doubt they will want a photographic display when they open the new building, which I will be able to do. Takes me about two days to set it all up. Course I need a whole lot of display boards. But no, my life has been with the police and I’ve enjoyed the challenge that it gave me. Right from big challenges of being the district computer instructor and I’d never touched a computer before. And, mind you that was only with the Wanganui computer. Things are a lot different today. And then the challenge of writing the history of our district because no way in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought of sitting down and writing a book. But all of a sudden it was asked of me to do something, give it a go. I thought it was our own station for a start. But as it turned out, no one wanted to do it in the other small stations, so I ended up doing the lot. And that was the big – the making of the book because it sort of all worked in, because men were going from say Woodville to Palmerston, or Palmerston to Woodville, to Eketahuna or wherever. And they all linked and I was able to put some sort of story, you know, before them and then the research of all the different things that I found at National Archives. Person doing that sort of thing has got to have a hell of a lot of patience. Cause I can spend a whole day in National Archives , even two days and not find a damn thing. And then you found something and my word, it’s never stopped. And I’ve able to capture only a small portion of probably what really happened but you just couldn’t go on and on.
IJ: But that portion does give an indication. It’s a slice of it isn’t it.
RC: Yep. And to able to go back to Day 1 and name the policeman for every station in our district that was another achievement I was quite proud of, which my late wife had said to me: ‘Is it any possibility of finding out these names?’ And when I first started I didn’t think I could do it but then I started to do some inquiries and found these books at the Police Museum because they had station-by-station and the list of all the guys that had been to the stations and the day they arrived and so on. And that took it up to the late 1940s when that system stopped and then the district clerk – what I call the ‘little red book.’ And yes I treasure those because they just made all those people – and they love seeing their names in the book too. But so many times have we – a names come up and the guys used to say ‘we’ll go to Carter’s Bible and see when the guy was here.’ And that’s what they use to refer to: Carter’s Bible. You know, I made reference – I’m secretary of the retired club here and I sent out the notices the other day for our next meeting and I’d mentioned in it that an old inspector from Palmerston had recently died in Tauranga, you know and I said ‘Actually Charles was here from 18
1962-1966, you know and every no and again a name would come up and I need to get my list and I’ve got roughly idea there, course having had 30 years here in Palmerston so

IJ: You would have seen a lot of people come and go.
RC: Oh yes. As Ian Mathieson16, he went through and named – he counted all the names, there was 1400, Ian said he counted. Cause I worked a lot with Ian and he helped me with little ideas and I helped him with his research and only 10 days before he died I handed material over to him, plus a photograph of one of the offenders he was keen to get hold of and he didn’t expect to get a photograph. I at least found the names for him.
IJ: Archivists collaborating.
RC: Yes. It’s so interesting for families today and I’m so supportive of anybody that goes out and wants to research their families histories, because so many are finding so much material and sometimes I am able to give them a lead. Although they’re only civilians, books that I research often refer to civilians. And in particular, one book that I came across in Sanson, because I wanted to find out where the first police station was at Rongotea. And I found that all the records were held at Sanson in the Manawatu County Council books. So I made myself known to the guy and he took me out to the big concrete cellar thing and all the old records are there. How the records ever kept so well, I don’t know because the conditions weren’t the best for books. And any librarian would have been horrified, or museum curator. But he brought out these three books that were about that thick and they were the copies, they were known as the ‘letter books’, and they were the carbon copy of every letter written by either the Chairman of the County Council or the Secretary of the County Council. And couldn’t find the – oh there was one book of the inward letters and then you’d find the response in the outward and for over five months I’d been trying to find out the name of the constable at Halcombe. I knew it had opened in 1879 and closed in 1881. But I couldn’t find the blimmin name. Anyhow, here’s a letter written by the Chairman of the Manawatu County Council and it had: ‘To the officer in charge, Police Station, Halcombe.’ And it said that he had received a letter from Sir William Fox who had a farm in his area and he had complained about wild dogs killing his sheep. And I was just so overtaken with this, I just couldn’t believe it cause it named the constable in the letter. And so of course, I made a start on that and I was able to learn about the constable there and how he paid twelve and six pence a week for the rented house for his police station. Cause they used to have a house but one room had to be the police office and then they would have to build a temporary cell until they could convey them to the nearest police station where they had a proper holding cell. And, but those letters, many of them – very few make any reference to police but they made reference to so many residents where one in particular: where the guy had complained that the County Council had dumped big stones on his road – or the road and it was very difficult for him and his horse and dray to take his milk to the factory and he said in the past the steam roller would come along and crush all those stones but no one had been near them. And, obviously the County Council made inquiries and found that the steam roller driver died. So no one had bothered to replace him or do something about it. But, just little things, but for family doing the research, they were able to get that letter, or able to record it, even if they couldn’t photocopy it, they could write it out word-by-word, from the carbon copy. And I got – I went there hoping for perhaps a couple of hours, I found what I wanted back where the first police station was and what the rent was paid, but I spent five days, going through this book page by page. And just it was so interesting. And that’s a big trap, Ian, even at National Archives you picked up cases of – didn’t relate to our district

IJ: But was interesting.
RC: It was interesting. Like the constable who applied for Ross, a station on the West Coast and he went over there, this is in the 1880s. And when he – he left his wife and four children, I think it was, behind. He was to get there and set up where the police station was and where his house was to be and all the rest of it. When he got over there, he met the bushman and they asked where the police station was: ‘Come with us.’ And they took him, here’s two big tents, one was his home, the other was the police station. And it started to rain and it rained for a week and eventually his wife and children came across by carriage and she stayed a week. She said: ‘I can’t live like this.’ And she wanted her husband to get transferred back to Christchurch. And they said: ‘No you’ve got to stay there. You applied for it, you stay there.’ So the guy resigned. So you know the conditions were just unbelievable, just unbelievable. But you couldn’t help reading about this and you think: ‘Good god, we might have felt that we weren’t issued with enough foolscap paper to write out on, not enough rulers or pens. But what they went through

IJ: At least you were issued with a building.
RC: Yeah exactly. They were issued a tent until a station was built. You know, I’ve got a photograph of a guy in Horopito and he arrived, but the bushman had put up a bush house in the edge of the bush and that was his home with what is the police station. But that only lasted about four years. But I ran into the grandson and who had some cutting about his grandfather, you know, and of course I was able to help him with his police side of his bit and pieces.
IJ: So in fact, your research is much broader – it’s got much broader applications than just the police. It’s an insight into New Zealand.
RC: Yep, and because when you research, you find that you’re dealing with incidents where these people worked. If you go to National Archives and find the files that you’re looking for and there’s just so many things. You just tipping the top of the iceberg. I say to people in organisations: ‘Write to the Director of the National Archives because they arrange tours through it.’ We did and it was all underground, all properly air conditioned but I just don’t know how many miles of files there is down below there. But it’s all catalogued and they can put you in the right direction or they’ll take you there and dig out a file and I was just – it’s just mind boggling.
IJ: Probably people will find out things they don’t really want to find out about their families.
RC: Oh yeah, don’t worry because the gazettes I had in my place when I lived in Fergusson Street and I used to speak to the Genealogist Society and they were wanting to know, and many times I would go to the early gazettes, very simply I would look up the index and once I saw the index, here’s the name they’d given me, look up the page, conviction for stealing a horse, or stealing a saddle and blanket, or some other item, to the value of one pound two and six pence or whatever it was and that was big money in those days and sure enough they were grateful. Then we’d organise, perhaps once every three months where different groups would come to my home and I was able to show them the Police Gazette because the 70 year, it had expired. Because under the Archives Act you can’t reveal anything unless it’s 70 years old plus. And I used to put all these gazettes out from 1877 right through to the period whatever it was and the chuckles these people used to get. They were quite hilarious. They’d all bring a plate along we’d have supper. But the buggers would keep us going till midnight. And – but they were finding things about their great grandparents that’s the part that amazed me that so many of the early settlers used to get in trouble of stealing and but they’re all gazetted. But they recorded all and put – and no doubt they put it into books that they wanted to write.
IJ: So your work’s probably helped an awful lot of families.
RC: Oh yes, I’ve had 107 requests from all over New Zealand and it all started at Massey in 1993 when I had to give two lectures to the National Conference and at the end of the first lecture 63 people required my assistance. I filled out a form, it was going to cost them 50 cents, that was just to cover the envelope and the stamp. And

IJ: Little did you know what you’d letting yourself in for.
RC: Yeah and I didn’t charge anything for research. I just did it because I love doing it. Been able to help people. And that’s been my life, been trying to help others, you know.
IJ: Perhaps the book title’s appropriate Ray: ‘Beyond the Call of Duty.’
RC: Well yes I suppose it would too, Ian. But oh well.

Transcribers Note: Ray Carter died 25 May 2019. This newspaper article describes his farewell: https://www.stuff.co.nz/national/113073728/police-historian-magician-and-professional-wrestling-referee-farewelled

1 Palmerston North Showgrounds was used as a camp for evacuated Napier residents.
2 Meynell Strathmore ‘Lofty’ Blomfield https://teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/4b40/blomfield-meynell-strathmore
3 Canadian wrestler who competed in the US and Canada. Retired c.1950
4 Augustus Mansford, Mayor of Palmerston North 1931-1947.
5 Hawkes Bay Today: Dannevirke: History of Hospital Wedding relived. https://www.nzherald.co.nz/hawkes-bay-today/lifestyle/news/article.cfm?c_id=1503456&objectid=11225260
6 The Voyage Out: 20th-Century Steamers, featuring Atlantis, https://teara.govt.nz/en/the-voyage-out/page-7
7 Video footage of the Jamboree of Peace: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgKrICH4dbs
8 The Battle of Arnhem https://liberationroute.com/the-netherlands/pois/t/the-battle-for-arnhem
9 Ian Cruden, Palmerston North City Councillor from 1989. Served four terms on City Council with the exception of one term he served until 2007, when he lost his seat.
10 Tom Long’s death notice in the Manawatu Standard 16 December 1908: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/MT19081216.2.38?end_date=31-12-1909&items_per_page=10&query=tom+long+inquest&snippet=true&start_date=01-01-1908
11 For more information on Tom Long see: https://teara.govt.nz/en/photograph/26489/tom-long-hangman and https://library.mstn.govt.nz/wairarapa-stories/our-people/tom-long/
12 Augustus Edward Mansford, Mayor of Palmerston North 1931 – 1947.
13 Erebus Disaster, 28 November 1979 https://nzhistory.govt.nz/culture/erebus-disaster
14 Newspaper story of the brawl from Manawatu Standard: https://www.stuff.co.nz/manawatu-standard/lifestyle/78443360/memory-lane-gang-tensions-erupt-in-palmerston-north
15 Detective Constable Duncan Taylor, killed on 5th July 2002: https://www.police.govt.nz/about-us/history/memorial/detective-constable-duncan-taylor and https://www.stuff.co.nz/national/crime/94404633/remembering-detective-constable-duncan-taylor
16 Head archivist at Palmerston North City Archives (Now the Ian Mathieson City Archives) from 1971-2002.

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