Following in footsteps from the past

Mark HURRELL driving 'Sammy the Bull'

Last Saturday was a very big day for my 16 year old son Mark. It was the day he had been waiting on for so long. After six months of driving fast-work he was finally getting to drive in an actual race. It wasn't a totalisator race though, just a workout race, but that didn't worry him. It was his first ever real race and that was all that mattered.

Mark has been keen on harness racing since he was just a young boy. My husband Ross is also a big harness racing fan and has spent many years following the horses. Back in his younger days he even bred and raced a few himself. We have close friends who breed and race horses so his interest in racing has never waned. And now he has passed this love of the horses and racing on to our son. 

Harness racing is the absolute number one favourite thing in Mark's life. Nothing else is as important to him as the horses. He had no real interest in school, and despite the fact I wanted him to stay at school for another year, all he wanted to do was work with the horses. No amount of convincing him otherwise was going to change his mind so last month he left school and began his harness racing career. He has worked part-time in a local stable for the past year but now he gets to spend as much time as he wants there, without the interruption of having to go to school. In the past six months he has learnt so much and has gained so much experience working with and driving numerous different horses. He is now ready to begin the next phase of his career to become a fully fledged race driver. 

Harness racing is not a career path chosen by many. But looking back into my family history I have found several branches of my family involved with harness racing. One branch in particular though, on my maternal side, was right into it in a big way. Let's step back in time to early last century, and it is at this point in time I have found three of my great grandmothers brothers who were all involved with the harness racing world.

William WALLIS (1884 - 1968), Joseph WALLIS (1894 - 1972) and Thorley WALLIS (1901 - 1973) were all harness racing trainers and drivers, each achieving their own fair share of success. They lived and breathed harness racing, much like their great great great nephew Mark does now. Harness racing was only in it's infancy way back when they were training and driving, but looking closely at these photos of them below, not too much has changed. The gear the horses wear is still quite similar, although now days most horses wear some "added extras" that help them out that wee bit more (things such as blinkers, murphy blinds, ear plugs, shadow rolls, nose flappers, spreaders and boring poles). Perhaps one of the main differences is the fact that the harness the horses wear is no longer made of leather, but is instead made of a plastic coated nylon which is much easier to keep clean and doesn't needed oiled, therefore a lot less work.

William WALLIS, pictured with 'John Dillon', date unknown

Joseph WALLIS, pictured with 'Indian Child', 1922

The shape of the carts these horses have on from almost 100 years ago are also very similar to what is still used now days by the majority, although some trainers are now beginning to use 'speed-carts' based on American designs which do look quite different. 

But I guess the biggest difference is the fact that the horses now days are no longer ridden. In early harness racing in New Zealand almost all horses were ridden. Back in the 1920's when the WALLIS brothers were starting out in their harness racing careers, most race meetings would be half ridden races, half cart races. But carts quickly became the norm and ridden races were eventually phased out completely by the late 1950's. It was only earlier this year that I saw for myself for the very first time an exhibition "saddle-trot" (a ridden race) at a local race meeting. It was run to show the spectators the way that harness races used to be run way back in the past and was very interesting to see. 

Thorley WALLIS, pictured in the winners circle with 'First Glance', 1922

 As well as my WALLIS family and a branch of my EGAN family who were all trainers and drivers, my own father and grandfather (Ron ENGLISH and Robert ENGLISH) were huge, huge harness racing fans. Although Dad or Grandad didn't actually work in the harness racing industry, they followed the horses almost religiously and one of their favourite past-times was to attend race meetings all over the countryside (and have the odd wee bet). They both passed away before Mark was born and I wish with all my heart that they were still here now to see him drive. I have no doubt at all that they would be extremely proud and absolutely chuffed with what Mark has chosen to do with his life. And I bet they are looking down from Heaven with huge smiles on their faces, thoroughly enjoying watching their grandson living his dream. 

"The biggest adventure you can take
is to live the life of your dreams."
~~ Unknown  ~~

Family Treasures: ..... it ain't just a rock !!!

This seemingly innocent little rock isn’t just any ordinary old rock. Sure, it doesn’t look like anything special but to me it holds a much deeper meaning than the fact it is just a rock.

As I child growing up I can recall seeing this rock holding open the front door at the Mataura home of my great uncle Bert (Herbert RENSHAW, my paternal grandmothers younger brother). The home had previously belonged to Bert's parents, my great grandparents Herbert and Bessie RENSHAW. After Bert died in 1986 this rock then moved to my grandparents home and it was at this point I actually started to wonder, … what on earth has Grandma kept that rock for !!!

But it turns out that this rock is special; perhaps not to anyone outside the family, but it is to our family. This is the very same rock that held open the front door at the home of Herbert and Bessie in Bothwellhaugh in Scotland. They were married in 1910 and not long after that Herbert found this rock while walking home from work in the nearby coal mines. I guess it may have appealed to him and he thought it ideal to hold the door open due to the fact it has a perfectly flat bottom which makes it sit so well on the floor. And for it’s actual size (140mm long) it is a pretty heavy rock.

Herbert and Bessie outside their NZ home

When Herbert and Bessie emigrated to New Zealand in 1926 the rock was obviously packed in with their belongings and came with them, to continue its job on the other side of the world. I guess in a way they brought a tiny piece of Scotland with them.

Over the years it appears as though it has had a few coats of paint. It is predominantly black now but showing through is various shades of brown and cream. The true colour of the rock is only evident on the bottom where it’s normal grey colour shows through. I will never re-paint it though, I will leave it the way it is as I think it’s unique colour allows it to tell some of the story of its past.

It’s role in my home today is a continuation of it’s role for the past 100 years. It sits in the doorway that goes from my dining room into the passage that leads to the bathroom, laundry and the back door. It sits right up against the doorframe to prevent the door from closing properly so that my beautiful birman cat Sophie can have access through to the laundry where her food and dirt box are located. 

Who knew that something so inconspicuous as a chunk of painted rock could hold such a special meaning. I only hope that in another 100 years time it will still be serving the same purpose in a home belonging to one of my descendants.

Faces from the past: My great, great grandmother, Marianna Rydzewska

Marianna (nee Rydzewska) SCHULTZ

This beautiful photo used to hang high on the wall in the front bedroom at my great grandparents home in Stratford Street in Gore. This is the face of my maternal great, great grandmother, Marianna Rosalia RYDZEWSKA. She was born in Muhlbanz, West Prussia (now part of Poland) on the 19th of August 1859, the second daughter of August Valentin RYDZEWSKI and his wife Rosalia Marianna SLIWINSKA.

In July 1872 Marianna (age 13), her parents and her siblings Johann, Francisca and Paulina left their homeland behind and sailed from Hamburg, Germany on board the sailing ship ‘Palmerston’,  disembarking at Port Chalmers, New Zealand on Christmas Eve 1872. During the voyage Marianna met a very handsome young gentleman by the name of Johann Valentin SCHULTZ (age 25), and he became her husband three years later. They were married in the Catholic basilica in Invercargill, New Zealand on the 24th of November 1875.

Like many of the other Polish immigrants, after arriving in New Zealand Marianna and Johann anglicised their names to become Mary REGEFSKY and John SCHULTZ. After their marriage John and Mary went on to have a family of nine children, two of whom died as babies; Frank (b.1877), John (b.1879), Martha (b.1881), Joseph (b.1882), Thomas (b.1884), Adam (b.1886), James (b.1887 - my great grandfather), Alexander (b.1890), and Thomas (b.1893). 

Many of the Polish immigrants that settled in southern New Zealand lived in the area of East Gore then known as Germantown, with many of them working on the development of the railway. In time some of them were able to purchase land and John SCHULTZ purchased 200 acres at Croydon Bush, west of Gore. Life was tough for immigrant families trying hard to settle in a new country where they often struggled to be understood, but John and Mary worked hard to develop their land and raise their young family. 

But after several very poor years on the farm, and heavily in debt, John found himself in trouble and had to sell his land. The farm was auctioned off and he had to find other ways to feed his growing family. He spent time working on the maintenance of local roads, and also made some extra money shooting rabbits. However, his debt was too much for him and he was eventually declared as bankrupt in July 1887. 

From the "Mataura Ensign"
17 April 1894

From the "Mataura Ensign"
20 April 1894

In 1893 John fell seriously ill with tuberculosis and then contracted pneumonia and could no longer work to support his family. He died on the 2nd of November 1893, aged just 47. Mary was 34 years old and seven months pregnant at the time, and was left a widow with seven young children to raise on her own. Her parents and her brother and two sisters were all living locally, so they would have been available to give her some support and help. 

But it must have been a very tough time for Mary as six months after John’s death I found an interesting report in the newspaper of a concert being held to benefit Mary and her young children. There were mixed reviews of the actual concert but in total it raised over £18 for her, which was a fair amount of money way back in 1894. They must have been a well-liked family for the town to do this for them.

Although Mary never fully came to grips with the English language and struggled with it throughout much of her life, she became a naturalised New Zealander in May 1926. My late nana (Doris, nee SCHULTZ) told me that as a child she would go to the home of Mary (her grandmother) each day after school and do chores for her. At times she struggled to understand her grandmother but remembered her fondly and said she was always very, very kind to her. 

Mary died aged 72 on the 22nd of January 1932 after a long battle with cancer of the liver. She was buried with John and their two young sons, Thomas and Adam, in the Gore Cemetery.

I have nothing but admiration for Mary and would love to have been around 100 years ago so I could have known her. To me she seems like a very strong woman, and I guess she would have had to have been to put the bad times behind her and carry on and raise her seven children on her own. To do it in this day and age would be difficult, but to do it 125 years ago would be extremely hard, especially too as she struggled so much with the language in her new homeland. I am very, very proud to be descended from Mary, such a beautiful, kind and strong Polish woman.

Those we love never truly die ......

Every once in a while the reality of life, ….. and in fact death, causes me to stop in my tracks and reassess my life and my place in this world. This past week has been one of those very reflective weeks.

After years of soul-searching I think I now have a better understanding of how this life works and I realise that God has an individual plan for each of us. We are never privy to this information though, we can only hope that the life he has planned for us is going to be a long and very happy one. 

Last Thursday afternoon my maternal uncle, one of my mothers younger brothers, passed away suddenly after a very short illness. He lived in Australia so I hadn’t seen him for several years. But that doesn’t make it any easier. In fact it probably makes it all the more sad and difficult due to the fact that, even though long periods of time had passed since I last saw him, I now know that this is one more very loved family member that I am never going to get to see again.

It’s made me once again realise that our time on this earth is finite, and we never know when it will be our turn to say goodbye. It has also made me realise that over the space of hundreds and hundreds of years, all of my ancestors I have lovingly searched for and wanted to find out so much about, they too have suffered loss and grief, often in circumstances that we today will never comprehend or fully understand.

It’s made me all the more determined to keep searching and keep recording what I find about my family members who have gone before me. As I’ve previously stated on this blog, I feel it is my purpose on this earth to be the link between the past and the future. So with renewed vigour, and a bit of a heavy heart, I will continue with my mission to document, preserve and share their stories. All of our ancestors and our much loved family members deserve to be remembered, and if they are remembered they will never truly die.

_________________

Paul John EGAN
Feb 1950  -  Oct 2014

My Uncle Paul was a free spirit. He loved life and he lived it his way.

He loved his family and his five sons meant the absolute world to him. 

Rest in peace Uncle Paul.

You are loved by us all and you will never be forgotten.

Sending lots of love and hugs to all your family in Australia.
x x x x x

_________________

"To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die"

~  Thomas Campbell  ~