ARTHUR GOULD RUTLAND MEMORIES
Born - 5th September 1903 at Fendalton, Christchurch, New Zealand.
At a young age he moved with his parents to Cobden on the West Coast, then to Tahunanui in Nelson. They resided at Rui Street, presumedly while his dad had their house built, situated on the hill above Tahunanui School. It was accessed by a steep clay track that was covered in pine needles from a good number of pine trees on the property so was almost impossible for his mother in her latter years to walk down without his assistance. At the bottom of the section Dad had built a small shed behind a Macrocarpa hedge which apparently had housed his motorbikes in those heady carefree years! A small wooden bridge enabled one to cross a wide ditch alongside the main road. He was caring towards his old mother and would visit her every Friday night (late night), and take her the weekly food stuffs which always seemed to have a loin of meat! She must have been lonely up there on the hill and had little to look forward to apart from a visit on Sundays and a drive while we played at the beach. Sometimes he mowed the lush grass with a hand mower while we explored the path up to a shed and the Tennent’s place, (where the ‘red headed Scotchman’ lived), picked shrivelled pears or looked at the rain barrel and were told not to poke holes in it (a very old and well rusted 40 galleon drum)! Once I went into the back bedroom, rickets blue colour, a small window with a blow fly trying to escape, and sparsely furnished with drying walnuts and apples on the floor, I think. The bathroom was small with a hand basin that fitted into the corner with a fabric petticoat to conceal the pipes and a very ancient tin bath along one wall. I wonder if the hot water was heated from the coal range in the lounge? The kitchen had tubs with tongue and groove wooden covers which doubled as bench space. No fridge or mod cons that I remember. So sad.
He was educated to primary level at the Tahunanui School. He confessed to wanting to be a doctor but as he had to support his widowed mother he did an apprenticeship at Montgomery’s garage I think, and studied at the Nelson Technical School night classes and by correspondence (I.C.S.) for motor engineering. He had to walk or ride his pushbike into the city from Tahuna. Later he went into partnership with Ned and Dick Everett, presumably in the motor trade, or possibly bikes. In 1930 he started his own business, as he thought, why should the boss get the profit of the men working for him so he started out in upper Bridge street next to the dairy where we used to get ice creams when permitted! After marrying Phyl Wood they lived at Mount St, later moving to Tasman Street before building the house at Iwa Road where he lived for the rest of his life. Cost 1500 pounds then.
The first garage of A.G. Rutland Ltd. had a wooden oil soaked floor with a big pit in the middle for cars to have their innards looked at. It also had a petrol bowser to the right that had to have the petrol pumped up from the storage tank below by a swing handle before it was released to whoosh into the car. In the left corner of the garage was the office with a high stool and a sloping desk for the book work. We were allowed to use the stamps (Not Negotiable, Account Overdue and Paid,) using a purple stamp pad which sometimes resulted in well stained fingers. Sometimes we had lunch at the garage or went with him to the Civic Lounge for lunch, always served with thin bread and butter. My younger sister I’m told dropped her crusts from her lunch box behind the desk. Why were there rats around? Esme was the office girl at some stage.
Facing the challenge to expand he then moved across the road to 165 Bridge Street where he developed A.G. Rutland Engine Reconditioners - the One Stop Motor Shop. This was extended when he bought a small cottage in Harley Street and made a back entrance to the work shop therefore using the front as a showroom for new cars and a office area. He sold the famous Yugo,Lada, Suzuki, Audi, Alfa Romeos, to name a few. He was progressive in business, keeping up to date machinery and bought a huge crankshaft grinder imported from the UK which created a stir when it was delivered to the garage. It was capable of doing industrial crankshafts that needed to be reconditioned. For years it was manned by Cyril Wells and then his son, when Cyril retired. The Dynamometer, situated in the rear garage, was a state of the art diagnostic machine consisting of two large rollers in the floor, and a car could be driven on to these, the wheels causing the rollers to rotate at various speeds. The operator could then assess the acceleration response, and the exhaust fume content also! With this machine there was no need for road tests.
We used to visit Dad and he would be dressed in a white dust coat, as befitted the manager and would emerge from behind a machine with a welcome smile and say hello sweetie pie or how’re popping? Dad was fastidious with cleanliness and would smell of soap and a whiff of garage, a combination of oil and machinery. (The men’s loo was a source of consternation if he entered too soon after someone had vacated it - the air hadn’t had time to clear, causing him to wonder at the diet of the previous tenant, the conclusion drawn that a meat diet is the culprit.)
For winter warmth there was a pot belly stove in the work shop but it was still pretty bleak to visit. A cavernous building, with large, air force blue “precision” machines which hummed and whirred when in use each having a wooden standing area to prevent operator fatigue from the concrete floor. I was fascinated with the curls of metal around the machine - left over from a lathe that reground cylinders. A heavy endless chain hung from a track way up on the ceiling, and it’s hook was used to hoist engines out of vehicles. Dad had a staff of maybe twelve men, and they appeared to work in designated areas - the men in the machine shop were ethereal blokes in the murky shadows, and those who worked out the back seemed to have a brighter environment. These chaps used jacks to elevate the front of the car, and they were able to lie on flat trolleys and skate under the car to poke around; these were phased out when the large hydraulic hoist was installed out the back. There were big vats out there too to submerge engines in which must have had some detergent to remove the gunge as the ’blocks’ would come out clean.
His ear was finely tuned for assessing if an engine wasn’t “running sweetly” and he would suck air if an engine” pinked” i.e. laboured with a clonking noise under the bonnet, usually remedied by a hasty gear change up hill. It appeared to be a physical assault almost and he would explain about the combustion in the piston causing explosive forces etc, which was beyond our comprehension. Following a car with volumes of exhaust smoke would cause him to mutter about “the mixture being too rich” …. burning oil? Phrases like “tappets needing adjusting, Big Ends falling out and cam shafts, as well as re-bores” were common place, but not understood by his family.
He was particular about his own car and woe betide if we didn’t shake sand off our feet after a visit to the beach or left smears on the windows after eating ice creams. Saturdays often was the car wash day (had to be clean for Sundays), so some of us have inherited the love, care and respect of fine cars. Petrol heads! Oft times on Saturdays a radio commentator would convey the trill of the grand-prix above the thrum and roar of the racing cars in the background and early in the piece Stirling Moss, Denny Hulme and Bruce McLaren became familiar names with this sport.
He was always cheerful and had a merry whistle. He was a man of integrity, and was sorely tested by those he called “sharks and robbers” and we can only assume they were the ones who did dud deals or failed to pay their bills …..although it could have been The Government? “Crows I have to pay half my income to the gomment,” he would mutter darkly, “that’s 50c in the dollar”! We weren’t that impressed but understand now. Mr Penny worked in the store/office for many years - a smoker I recall and a tippler I suspect, as he had a very red and bulbus nose! In later years Dad would walk to work and home up the track from Milton St to Iwa Road - his routine then to read the 'rag' and cook up his pot of vegs. Saturdays he would have his usual shower and shave routine and then don his old gardening clothes, very decrepit tread bare jumper plus a floppy panama hat and then attack the lawns and garden. Woe betide a J.W. or Mormon who would interrupt his bonfires!
He died - 8th November 1988
MOTOR BIKES OWNED
Douglas, Indian Scout, Indian Chief, Matchless, Royal Enfield, Norton, Aerial, Sunbeam, Harley Davidson.
CARS OWNED -
1914 model T Ford, Chevrolet 4 (tourer), Chevrolet 6 cylinder (tourer)
Model A Ford, Hupmobile, Chevrolet 6 (later model), Essex 4 and 6 cylinder
Austin 4 (baby), Morris Maxwell, Mercury, Triumph T.R.4, Fiat, Alpha Romao
ORGANISATIONS HE BELONGED TO
Rowing club in his youth,
Harmonic Society
Baptist Church Choir - was conductor for many years. Produced the Christmas cantatas.
The Nelson Luncheon Club,
Engine Reconditioners Association
The Motor Trade Association
The Home Guard during the war years. They met in the drill hall in Harley Street.
Man’s dress ring in my possession belonged to John Rutland I think.