This article vividly describes the lost culture and commerce of shopping in Island Bay before cars were common and before the supermarket and online trade. It was a different world. The article first appeared in Southern Bays 2007 and was reprinted in 2022 with additional images, and memories from Pat Hutchison. Both Pat and the author Barbara Hoskins, were life members and founders of the Historical Society.
As a child living in Island Bay in the 1940s, I was always fascinated by the number and kind of shops that there were as we walked down The Parade. In marked contrast to the Island Bay of today’s one supermarket and one butcher’s shop, there were about eleven grocers’ shops, five butchers’ shops, six or seven greengrocers’ shops and about ten dairies.
Most of the shops were quite small with dark, crowded interiors. The butcher’s shop always had a bar around the top of the wall with carcases hanging by hooks from it, a big wooden chopping block in the middle and sawdust on the floor. People needed to go to the butcher almost every day, especially in the summer, as there were no refrigerators or freezers. Most homes had a “safe” which was a wooden or metal cupboard with mesh to let the air circulate. It was kept either inside or on a cool wall outside the house and meat could be stored in it for perhaps a day or so before it was cooked.
The grocers stood behind their counters and placed the goods on the counter as you requested them. Their supplies of basics such as flour and sugar arrived in bulk and the shopkeeper weighed the goods into brown paper bags. Flour was sometimes bought in calico bags that were often used to line boys’ homemade trousers, once the flour was used. Biscuits came in big square-shaped tins to be weighed out and children would go in to buy what remained in the tin - “a pennyworth of broken biscuits, please.” Cheese came in huge slabs or rounds which the grocer sliced with a wire cutter and there was always a slicer – originally with a handle to turn but later with an electric motor, on which to slice the bacon and the ham. Many people dropped their written order into the grocer who packed all the items in a carton which was then delivered - sometimes by the grocer in a van, or sometimes by the grocer’s boy riding a bike with a metal carrier on the front to hold the carton.
There was a dairy on almost every corner which people also needed to visit each day. Most people had a standing order for bread – white or brown. Vienna, barracouta or sandwich were about the only choices. The bread was unsliced and people just took it home unwrapped, although sometimes there were calico “bread bags” (mostly old flour bags) brought from home to carry it in. Children often called for the bread on their way home from school and delighted in “picking off” the uneven bits if their loaf was a barracouta which had been broken in half! The dairies sold cones of ice cream, milk shakes, chocolate bars, and sweets – all set out in jars in tantalizing rows along the counter for children to point at and ask for “a ha’penny worth of aniseed balls.” I think you could get a bottle of milk at the dairy if you had missed the milkman.
People put their milk bottles out at the gate at night and the milkman, with his horse and cart, delivered the milk early in the morning. Many people in Island Bay also got milk from Mr Knight who farmed cows in Happy Valley. His milk was delivered by horse and cart or a small truck with milk cans on the back. Customers left out a billy can and a note saying how many pints they wanted and this amount was ladled into the billy. This milk was not pasteurized and some people preferred it to the City Council milk which was pasteurized and came in glass bottles with round cardboard tops. Crates of half pint milk bottles were delivered to schools for children to drink through a straw at playtime.
The green grocers went to the markets (near Courtenay Place) early in the morning to get their vegetables, fruit and flowers. There was not the variety then that there is now – no broccoli, no courgettes, no aubergines, and no out of-season fruits or veggies – we ate what was grown that week! This made us look forward immensely to when the apples would be ripe or when the tomatoes would come in to season. During the war years when exporters could not send their crops to overseas markets, children were given a free apple at school each day. The apples were always packed in wooden boxes and each one was wrapped in tissue paper. The tissue paper was flattened and used as toilet paper (much softer than the usual newspaper!) As part of their war effort, many families dug up their lawns and grew some of their own vegetables.
There were three drapers' shops in Island Bay. They sold the all-important wool and knitting patterns, sewing patterns, materials, threads, elastic and buttons, but they also sold clothes for those who didn’t make their own clothes. Most women sewed and most mothers became adept at cutting down clothes for their children - dressing gowns from overcoats, or small boys’ pants from skirts.
Bootmakers repaired shoes, re-soling or re-heeling them and we always had metal toe and heel plates on our shoes to stop the leather soles wearing out too quickly. There were two bootmakers on The Parade and there was also Mr Avery on the corner of Derwent and Medway Street who had a little shop on the front of the house.
As well as our own Post Office at 121b The Parade, we also had our own Police Station at 113 The Parade where Constable F Burrell lived. There were at least two doctors practising in the Bay and two chemist shops. Many people went to the chemist for advice concerning medical problems – they could not always afford to go to the doctor. Mothers were much more inclined then, to use the traditional methods that their mothers had taught them for childhood complaints and diseases and for treatment of such things as boils.
There was no public library in Island Bay. When I was 8 or 9 I was allowed to go on the tram to the Newtown Library which was opposite the Hospital. It had a children’s and an adults’ section. There was the Bedford Book Club on The Parade which was a lending library, I think. There was also Mr Campbell who wrote a column in the Evening Post and lived at 124 The Parade. He walked around the district with a suitcase of books which he had chosen for his customers whose tastes he knew. He arrived at our house each Saturday when I think my mother paid 3d or 6d (3 or 6 cents) for a book. He did not have any children’s books.
As a child I was probably unaware of the difficulties that our parents had in feeding their families. The Second World War came on the heels of “the great depression” that had seen many parents out of work and really struggling to put food on the table. Things had improved somewhat by 1937/1938, but then in 1939 our country was at war and ‘the war effort” and “Food for Britain” became the catch words and gradually, rationing began.
Petrol was the first commodity to be rationed in 1939, right at the beginning of the war, but, as not many people that we knew had cars, this did not have a huge effect on us. The allowance was 10 gallons (45 litres) a month, and half of that for motor cyclists. Ration books were printed to make sure that everybody received only the amount to which they were entitled.
Gradually, most of the other necessities of life were rationed and you didn’t go anywhere without your ration book. Sugar rationing began in 1942, butter in 1943. and meat in 1944. Each person was allowed 8 ounces (227 g) of butter, 6 ounces (170 g) of sugar, 2 ounces (57 g) of tea and 2 ½ pounds (1.13 kg) of meat per week. The number of coupons varied with the quality of the meat – good steak used a lot of coupons, cheap mince not so many. In a restaurant, coupons were handed over when a meat dish was ordered - if the ration book had been forgotten, diners had to make do with fish or poultry which were coupon-free. Cream was unavailable, but most of us poured the “top milk” off the top of the glass milk bottle, added a little sugar and whipped that up to top the daily pudding! Our family used to buy mutton bones to boil up for soup, leave the fat to harden on the top of the bones and water, then use it as shortening to make biscuits instead of butter. Usually we made cinnamon biscuits to disguise the fatty taste.
There was a shortage of eggs and many people preserved eggs either using Isinglass or by covering them with a greasy substance called Ovoline. The eggs were stored in a wooden box with air holes and you were always careful to break eggs for cooking into a cup first, just in case the egg had gone off!
Each person was allocated 26 coupons for clothing every six months. A full-length coat usually of wool gabardine or herringbone tweed took twelve coupons, a gym frock four, and a blouse four. The coupons also had to be used for household linen. Women were issued with a special page of coupons for one pair of fully fashioned silk stockings every six months. Runs in these were a disaster and had to be mended by hand. Lisle or rayon stockings took two coupons. Nylon stockings did not arrive in NZ until after the war unless they were brought by the American servicemen.
Cigarettes and loose tobacco were in short supply. There were long queues when fresh supplies arrived. People also queued for chocolate and sweet biscuits as well as wool – in fact if you saw a queue somewhere you quickly got on the end of it, in case there was something you were after!
This handling of coupons must have been a nightmare for shopkeepers. Many people had hard luck stories or special events to cater for and they tried to obtain extra amounts. The coupons had to be balanced up and posted to the central authority by a certain date either weekly or monthly.
My father was rather unusual, in that he always went on a shopping expedition up the Parade on Friday night. In those years it was mostly women who did the shopping. He paid for the grocery order that had been delivered during the week, called at the stationers, at the chemists and at the greengrocers where he filled his Gladstone bag with fruit and vegetables. Of course, he had to take our ration books. We were a family of two adults and two children and we mostly had enough coupons, although we did swap spare tea coupons for some sugar coupons with a couple who lived nearby with their two elderly parents.
Once the war was over, rationing did not end as the people of Britain still needed our help. Many families continued sending food parcels to Britain. Meat rationing was abolished in 1948 and butter rationing in 1949. By the 4th June 1949, New Zealand was free of rationing, except for petrol rationing which ended in 1950 – eleven years after it was introduced.
Note: fruiterer's are greengrocers; confectioners are dairies
20 Service Station - J Hookham
24 Hill R - dairy
62 Marshall J - furniture manufacturer
62A Creswell C - baker
66 Prince Mrs G – confectioner
112 Parade Service Station – C Foster, proprietor
130 Self Help Grocery Co-op Ltd - A Durston manager
130 Stewart Mrs V – dressmaker
132 Borelli E –cake shop
136 Pratt R – cake kitchen
138 Janson F – grocer
140 Sumner C – hardware dealer
142 Reed C – confectioner
142A Hack Mrs C - fancy goods and dressmaker
144 Wood Mrs J - dressmaker
146 Wallace Rachael – bookshop
148 Sharples Ltd - grocers - H Sharples manager
200 Sternberg A – medical practitioner
204 Duncan Buildings
204 Eason G – chemist
204 Townley M Mrs - pastrycook
204 Mattina B – hairdresser
214 Empire Theatre
214 Salmon M – confectioner
216 Cook S – grocer
294 Gestro S Mrs - pastrycook
294A Ngan G - fruiterer
298 Eatox Butchery Co - H Haworth manager
298B Fanthorpe B – confectioner
Humber St crosses
300A Dudley L – grocer
306 Self Help Co-op Grocery Ltd
358 Griffin J - confectioner
364 Lowe M Mrs – stationer
15 Thomson A – grocer
Dee St intersects
65 Lum G - fruiterer
67 Ward J - grocer
67A Foseland S – butcher
Tamar St crosses
113 Burrell F - constable
121 Ritchie A Mrs – confectioner
121A Brown L – hairdresser
121B Island Bay Post Offices
123 Clarke H - chemist
A note from the archives: Mr H. Clarke, who lived with his family on the first floor was both chemist and manager of the Post Office. The post office was recessed from the footpath as can be seen by the pillar dividing two shops in that area with a connecting door from the pharmacy through into the post office. He was a well-known identity around the Bay and a member of the Bowling Club. Later the young Peter Bacon came along to work in the shop and during Mr Clarke’s illness managed the business. Peter Bacon went on to serve for many years as the local pharmacist.
127 Howard and Tilyard - butchers
A note from the archives: Mr Howard was of average height with sandy hair and fairish skin while Mr Tilyard was tall with dark wavy hair. Both were gentlemen and as pioneer shopkeepers serving the people in this area, were well respected and contributed to the general dignity of the suburb. Mr Tilyard and his family occupied the dwelling.
129 Cook Strait Fisheries Co
131 Irving J - grocer
A note from the archives: James Irving took over this shop from Robert Todd. Mr Todd, his wife and four children has come to Island Bay from the South Island where they had lost everything because of the depression. He and his family lived above the shop which they managed but did not own. James Irving took over as owner, followed by Mr Bruce Niven. Each family lived above the shop. [The Irvings lived three doors away from Barbara Hoskins’ family in Derwent St for at least some of the time they owned the shop].
133 Rump B - watchmaker
A note from the archives: For many years the shop, on the south side of the two-shop property was occupied by Mr Bernard Rump, a watchmaker who was contracted by Littlejohns as an instrument marker and repairer. He was a very talented man who had migrated to England before World War l where he met and married his English-born school teacher wife. He later came to New Zealand. Mr Rump was interned on Somes Island during World War l much to the distress of his family. Mr and Mrs Rump had two daughters and lived in premises over the shop.
135 Geddes R Mrs – draper
A note from the archives : The drapery shop owned by Alex Geddes was we-stocked with good quality children’s wear and served the community well. Their stock included first grade linens for embroidery enthusiasts and they also provided a hem-stitching service. One could take a piece of plain linen to the shop where Mr or Mrs Geddes would hem-stich it in preparation for hand-crotched edging.
139 Sue Young and Co – fruiterers
141 Bedford Book Club
141 Jones F - bootmaker
145 Kelly LD B – bakers
145 Back E - confectioner
147 Dallow & Son – stationers
A note from the archives by Pat Hutchinson: Who could forget these good, gentle people? You could buy anything in the way of stationery from them, and books of course. The paper boys of the day always spoke of them with respect. Again pioneers in the Bay who set standards and lived by them.
155 Citizens Service Stores Ltd
157 Hansen H - draper
A note from the archives: Harold Hanson, drapers, shop and residence, was built on a vacant piece of land next to the right-of-way leading from the Parade through to Clyde Street. Both Mr and Mrs Hanson were highly regarded members of the community. They stitched articles of quality which were in demand by the local people catering for both ladies and children. They also supplied a variety of knitting wools, pure linen embroidery materials and cottons. There was one daughter who boarded for many years at Erskine College.
163 Brown W - coal merchant
163A Robertson G - bootmaker
169 Martin R - medical practitioner
213 Rogers F - fruiterer
215 Milligan J - draper
217 Joe Lee & Co - fruiterer
219 Cooker M - dairy
221 Hart W - butcher
347 Serci F - fishmonger
349 Aprea A - hairdresser
351 Zino G - fruiterer
351 Dyer O - butcher
355 Barnao Bros. - store (grocer and fruiterer)
216 McCleery W - grocer
223 Allen C - confectioner
225 Brewerton N - accountant
15 Avery H - boot repairer
182 Macdonald T & J - tearooms
224 A Langtry A - manufacturer’s agent
226 Basil A Mrs - confectioner
12 Neilson R - tearooms
The late Mary Logan (1925-2016), nurse, teacher and writer, passed away earlier this year. She was well known in the Bay, particularly for her biography of Arnold Nordmeyer, and for her contribution to various cultural activities. She was an early member of the Southern Bays Historical Society, and wrote this account for its Collection in February 2007.
In January 1951, when I arrived in New Zealand, I stayed briefly in Auckland while my husband, John, himself a New Zealander, came to Wellington to start work and to find somewhere for us to live. The flat that he found was in Island Bay, on The Esplanade. 'Island Bay' he wrote, 'is an Italian fishing village.' At first I was bitterly disappointed – no Italian restaurants, no shops selling Italian produce. But before long, like everyone else in the Bay, I appreciated and was a regular customer at the fish and chip shop at the Terminus. People came from other suburbs, from as far away as Karori, for Fifi's famous fish and chips. No Italian restaurants, but I could look at Fifi's photographs of Italy while I waited for my fish and chips; and it certainly was, and is, a village.
There were, of course, several shops at the Terminus. We had a grocer – where we could buy spaghetti and macaroni, though made in New Zealand. There were a butcher and a greengrocer on the same side of The Parade. Across the road was the dairy, where Mr McEwan knew us all, including the children who would pick up the ordered bread on their way home from school. Just a step away from the dairy was Mr and Mrs Sinclair's Stationery and Bookshop, where people could drop in for their Dominion before taking the tram to work. I understand that just before the buses replaced the trams their shop was gutted by a fire.
I have asked many people whether they recall the shoe repairer at the Terminus in 1951, but no one seems to remember him. He was tall and well built, a Maori, who walked slowly, aided by a stick.
The greengrocer's on the corner, where Michael McCormack now has his art gallery, was the largest of this group of shops. The owners changed several times, but at one stage two young men and their mother kept the shop. If I remember rightly – though I may not do so - their name was Greco, but they were Italian. One brother was an accomplished guitarist. He gave me a recipe for a spinach and potato dish which I still make, and which is appreciated by family and friends. Later Raymond and Cindy Ching kept the shop, and were the last greengrocers there. Raymond used to deliver my vegetables early on a Saturday morning, One week I had bought – I thought – a 20 pound case of apricots for bottling. When I went out to the washhouse to check that they had been delivered, I found the case was only half full. I rang Raymond and reproached him. The cases I had seen in the shop had been full, tightly packed. Raymond assured me he had delivered a full case. Later I found pieces of apricot scattered on the garden and path outside. It looked as if an opossum, or maybe two, had found the window open and helped themselves to the fruit. I apologised, Raymond bore no grudge, and continued to deliver my orders.
I remember Colin and Janet Boyce in the grocer's shop, and they too delivered their goods. Colin used to cut the large cheese into portions with a wire cutter when you had decided exactly how much you wanted. No ready-packed pieces of cheese in those days. There seemed to be dairies on every corner, as there are now, just as hard a life then as now – perhaps more so. They were a great blessing on Saturdays and Sundays when all the other shops were closed. In the 1950s there were strict regulations about what could and could not be sold. One weekend we had been 'up the coast' and had picked a large quantity of blackberries, enough for me to make jam. But I did not have the amount of sugar I needed. So I went to the nearest dairy and begged for a bag – perhaps 2 pounds – of sugar. It was wrapped up in several layers of newspaper and I was warned not to tell anyone where I had bought it, otherwise the dairy owner could have been given a heavy fine.
Before long I ventured to the shops further along The Parade. There was a group of shops near the Empire Theatre. The one I frequented for many years was Miss Marshall's cake shop. It was not 'done' to buy cakes in those days, but Miss Marshall was not short of customers. My usual purchase was her excellent fruit square. When I was very busy I would serve this with custard for pudding, and there were never any complaints. My family appreciated it, as did people from other suburbs who came to Island Bay especially for Miss Marshall's cakes. When, for some reason, importers stopped bring in first-grade dried fruit, Miss Marshall decided this was the end of her fruit squares – she was not prepared to make them with second or third-grade fruit.
The cinema itself was always popular, particularly with the children, most of all with the boys, on Saturday afternoons. I was never strong enough to brave the rowdy events, but my sons were regular patrons. The hardware shop, sadly missed now by the locals, was established after the cinema closed, as was Ian Logan's gallery on the first floor. The re-opened cinema has proved to be a successful venture, attracting filmgoers from other suburbs. Across the road from the cinema was a large 'drapery and haberdashery' shop, later run by Pam Cromie, where I bought several attractive dresses. So much easier than going in to town – and cheaper! Of course there were dairies – two – in that area, also a butcher, Doug Timms, I remember. In those days we had everything we needed – as well as some choice – within walking distance of the Terminus.
If we were a little more energetic, or prepared to take the tram or bus for one section to the main shopping area, there was an even wider choice for the keen shopper. Of course the one place where most of us would need to go at some time, even if not very frequently, was the Post Office. It really seemed indispensable. There were always queues there, for banking as well as our postal needs. Its closure seemed a tragedy. How could we manage without it, we wondered. It seemed to be assumed that everyone had a car, and that it was hardly any further to go to Newtown or Kilbirnie than to the Island Bay Post Office. However the video shop supplies most of our postal requirements – as well as some of our entertainment. Also, thanks to the friendly and helpful attitudes, it adds to the general Island Bay feeling of neighbourliness.
On the same side of the Parade as the Post Office there was, in the 1950s, a Self Help grocery, always advertised as the cheapest place to shop. For the young, it should be said that Self Help' was not the equivalent to Pak N Sav, nor was it a free-for-all. However, the owners of the chain still seem to have the charitable organisation they established, although their grocery chain probably no longer exists. Although always advertised as the cheapest, it did not seem to be as popular as another grocery, Jansen's. Perhaps this was because the owner was a well known Island Bay identity who lived in a large house just behind the shop. I remember his giving broken biscuits to my eldest son, who was in a pushchair at the time. Most of the grocers at that time would have had broken biscuits for sale very cheaply. They had the biscuits delivered in bulk, in large square tins. These were prized possessions for many people who had bread delivered to them from the bakery into the biscuits tins which they kept at their gates.
'Old' Mr Jansen's son, Bruce, took over the shop later. It was he who embarked on the establishment of a supermarket in the Bay. This is in Medway Street, although it can still be approached on foot from the site of Jansen's Grocery on the Parade. It seemed to me at the time a very rash enterprise. Where would all the people – the customers – come from? Kingston was not yet an established suburb, and Island Bay seemed a very small place. A friend in the United States, ex-Island Bay, had written to tell me of the wonders of American supermarkets. But that was not Wellington. Yet I have lived to be thankful for our excellent supermarket.
Bruce, however, soon moved to 'fresh fields', and Peter Shaw, whom many people still remember, took over. And, sadly, the supermarket did spell the end for some local shops. One of the first to go was the greengrocery on the other side of the road, run by the Wong family. I am told that one of the sons is a doctor who lives in the Island Bay area. It's hard to leave the Bay! On the opposite side of the road, the Far family kept their greengrocery going for some time after the supermarket was established. Bill and Fay are still valued members of the Island Bay community, proprietors of the Stationery and Book Shop on the Parade. Fay is well known outside the Bay for her expertise in children's books.
In the 1950s and 60s we even had a shoe shop in the main shopping area. I used to buy the boys' school shoes there – another excuse not to go into town. There was also Hansen's Drapery on the corner by the footpath leading to Clyde Street. At one stage there were two chemists, or pharmacists as we would call them now: Mr Easson nearer the library, and in the centre of the group of shops, Peter Bacon, in the same place where we still have a pharmacy. The butcher, too, once Howard and Tilyard, had customers from all over Wellington, and further afield, for his meat and prize-winning smallgoods.
We are certainly very fortunate in the variety of choices we have for our shopping in Island Bay, and in our friendly and helpful shopkeepers. Also, to think about all the changes over the last 50 years is a study in social history. If we have lived through that time we may take the changes for granted, yet they have been very great – in our food and our drink, and also in the way we eat and drink and in our entertainment. Our suburb is revitalised now, a good place to live – and to shop. There must be a great deal I have forgotten, and many shops I have not mentioned, but I hope I have stimulated some memories of people who have added immeasurably to our lives in the Bay. I thank them all.
Editor’s note: Shopping is one of the less-well-studied areas of historical research