I have decided that one of the things that I need to do this year is 'write up' and check the information I have about my New Zealand family. I have started with my father, James Kevin Riordan (Jim). I have quite a lot of information about him as it happens, as he was a Railway worker, and went to the Middle East in WW2. Men tend to give rise to a more detailed paper trail than women.
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This is my father with his mate Curly, somewhere at a camp in the desert in 1941. |
Dad was born in 1917 in Omata, just outside New Plymouth, to Martin Riordan and Margaret Malone. At the time of his birth, the family was living on a dairy farm in Hurford Road. One of the things I would like to find out sometime is where exactly on Hurford Rd the family lived. I know it was somewhere not too far from the Royal Oak factory which his father Martin supplied. If I can find some old maps, I will hopefully be able to narrow the location down a bit.
Dad obtained Proficiency at primary school, and by 1938 was working with the Railways, firstly as a junior porter, and by 1955 he was a Guard. When men were sought for the War, he joined up serving in Railways Operating and Construction Companies, after entering Egypt in September 1940. In a chance meeting at a genealogy conference in the early 90s, I met a man who served in his unit, who told me Dad was much in demand in the canteen of an evening, where he sang Irish folk songs.
Dad moved to Waitara at some stage after his war service, where he was a guard. As a single man, he was boarding at the Masonic Hotel. It so happened that my mother, Katherine Lalor, was working there doing 'domestic duties', which I know included cooking. There was a courtship, and in 1956, my parents married, when my father was 39. Just under a year later, their first daughter was born, to be followed by three more in succeeding years.
From a moving company receipt, it was clear we moved into our Waitara home in July 1960. Dad clearly enjoyed being a husband and father, and making our house a home. (Back then, lower income people could still buy homes, through State Advances home mortgages.) I have many happy early childhood memories of Dad working hard around the property. He had a huge vegetable garden, planted fruit trees, and also numerous flower gardens. He had magic green fingers. He laid the concrete paths, dug drainage, and made a fence.
There was a day that I remembered walking down to the Railway Station with my Dad, to find the steam train was in its shed, with a wagon in front of it. I was only four at the time, but I still knew that wasn't 'normal'. I asked Dad why the wagon was there, and he told me it was so nobody could steal the train. I thought he was being silly! But it turns out that is exactly why the wagon was there. In the very early hours of 3 March 1962, shortly after my father had come home from work, he heard the locomotive AB.817 going past our house, when he knew it should have been in the loco shed. There was a chase with cars up to Big Jims Hill, but the train was by then returning to Waitara. Newspaper accounts appeared in various papers, and are all collected up in a file at Archives NZ, as are copies of 'official' documents. My father received a letter of commendation for his part in the incident. There was even an editorial in the Christchurch Star about the event on 10 March 1962.
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Excerpt from editorial in Christchurch Star, 10 March 1962 |
I have many idyllic memories of my early childhood. But in early June 1966, my childhood came crashing down, when Dad collapsed at work, and died not much later, of a sudden heart attack. I missed him acutely. Over the years, I have written various pieces about him, from the heart. The posters above are ones I prepared for the genealogy conference in the 90s in Palmerston North, when Anne Carian was organising the wall displays. The conference theme was 'Tracking the Lines' with Railways being one of the sub-themes.