Downes, Marie Catherine (Catherine) Interview

Today I’m interviewing Catherine Downes, and the date is 29th August 2024. So Catherine, will you tell us the date you were born?

I was born on 21st September 1923.

Yes, and you spent your early life on Patoka Station, which must’ve been really remote in the days that you were young. Would you like to tell us some of your early memories about living in [on] Patoka Station?

Well, goodness me – it was of course very remote. Yes, it took something like … if I remember rightly, and I may not … the best part of two hours to get from Hastings to Patoka, which meant there were not many excursions into either city. And we usually went to Hastings because my grandparents lived on the outskirts of Hastings, sort of halfway to Havelock North. And so we would go and visit then, and we would spend time while my parents were doing shopping or business in town, mostly in Hastings rather than Napier.

And you didn’t go to school during those years?

There wasn’t a school to go to. Well, the nearest school was in Rissington which was about half an hour’s drive, and we could certainly have gone to that school in the morning because a service car went down from Puketitiri – another good half hour’s drive further on. So we could have caught that service car at the Patoka … it was hardly a store, but it was a Post Office. Later on it developed into a store and sold all sorts of things, but when I was a child it didn’t seem to be doing very much except distributing the mail.

So it was very remote ..?

It was indeed remote.

But you didn’t miss out on your education, you still had ..?

Oh, we had correspondence education, and the original correspondence that we did came from England because, see, New Zealand Correspondence School was not in action when I turned five and needed to be educated.

So did you have to send papers all the way to England, and they would come back again?

Yes.

And what was the education like?

Very good. I’m a Master of Arts.

But what subjects did they teach by correspondence when you were young?

They taught most things; they couldn’t teach science because there wasn’t a lab [laboratory] of any sort. There was no capacity for introducing a lab for us to learn science, but we could learn botany because of the plants and things growing all round us, and suitable books with information about local plants. And I suppose there would be native plants, which weren’t of course included in the English correspondence. But books were available, so if you were interested … [conversation in background, mostly deleted]

So where did you get your books from?

I suppose at least some of them came from England, but I really don’t know; they arrived, and we learnt from them. And that’s, you know, [chuckles] sort of end of story. [Chuckles]

Was it an enjoyable experience, that Correspondence learning?

I certainly enjoyed it, but I was a studious child. I don’t know what my sister and brother made of it, quite. Susan was an artist; she drew and painted very well but she wasn’t exactly literary, I think.

How old were you when you had to leave Patoka Station and go to boarding school?

Twelve.

And what was that experience like?

Very unpleasant. [Chuckle] It’s funny to think on I suppose, but then – well, [chuckle] what I disliked, I suppose, about it – as much as anything else – about being mixed up with these other girls, and getting on with my education of course, but they weren’t interested in being educated. They were interested in clothes, and – would you believe it – boys! [Chuckles] I didn’t know what boys were. [Chuckles] You know, it seems a bit rude to say it now, but the only boys I really had anything to do with were the shepherd boys, who were not educated to the level at which we were educated by our correspondence. So boys didn’t interest me.

And how many years did you have to endure boarding school?

Six, I was there. [Chuckle] I got Matric [Matriculation] in … can’t remember what year it was, but I think after six years I had got Matric, and so I was ready to go off to university, which I wanted to do; I was a studious little girl, as I said before. Now I’ve interrupted myself …

Do you know how old you were when you went to university?

I think I was eighteen, because I got Matric when I was fifteen. And I wanted to get a scholarship, or a boarding bursary, so I stayed at Nga Tawa [Diocesan School] and achieved those purposes, so when I went to varsity – and I went to Otago – it was the middle of the war by then, which complicated things a bit. I mean, one wasn’t supposed to continue selfishly with one’s own education instead of getting involved in the war effort.

Not sure what you could’ve done differently, though. It’s a long way from home; your boarding school was … whereabouts?

Nga Tawa? I was going to say “in hell”, but I really mean near Marton.

And then Otago was a long way from Patoka Station, so did you come home very often during those years?

Well we came home almost every holiday time, which was three times a year.

Would you fly in those days?

You couldn’t.

No, so how did you get home?

Well, on a train.

How long did that take?

Oh, a day, I suppose.

And then a ferry?

No, we didn’t need a ferry.

From Otago, you did.

Oh – yes. But that was another story really, yes; I don’t think we came back from Otago for every holidays.

How many years were you at Otago [University]?

Three – I did a Bachelor degree at Otago, which took three years. And then I came up to Wellington, by which time I think the war was over so it was not quite so difficult to [chuckle] be getting on with one’s studies.

So when you were at Otago University where did you live?

For a couple of years in St Margaret’s Christian College.

What was that like?

I shouldn’t stress the ‘Christian’ because it’s naughty of me to laugh. But … oh, it was good, they looked after us very conscientiously. We were adequately fed.

Did they have quite strict rules?

Fairly strict. It was Dunedin after all.

[Chuckle] Where would you’ve lived in Wellington? You continued your education at Victoria University?

Yes, I did my Honours at Victoria. In Dunedin I was at St Margaret’s College for two years, I’m pretty sure, and then I went with another girl and we found a flat of sorts. It was quite a nice flat; not terribly far … it was quite a long way from varsity really … but it wasn’t long enough to be a perfectly jolly nuisance.

How did you get around? Did you catch buses or walk?

Well, sometimes one, sometimes the other. Depended how far [chuckle] you needed to go, really. Yes, there must’ve been buses, I suppose, ‘cause there wasn’t any … I mean, I didn’t think they had trams in Dunedin when I was there, but I’m not sure.

They might’ve had trams in Wellington, did they?

In Wellington they had trams, so I’m not sure whether I’m confusing the two.

When did you get involved in theatre?

I was born to it, I suppose.

I suppose you were. Can you tell us a little bit about your mother, [Delmira Crosse, née Bokenham] ‘cause she was an actress, wasn’t she?

Yes, she was. Yes – she was an extremely handsome woman. You can see her on the …

Beautiful.

She came out to Australia, in fact, under contract to J C Williamson’s, who were a firm that ran theatrical groups of one sort and another, I suppose.

It was quite a brave thing to do as a young woman, to come out from England to Australia …

Yes, she wasn’t in fact terribly young – she was into her thirties, I think. She’d been working with various theatrical groups, touring in England.

When did she meet your father? [Hugh Edward Crosse]

On a ship; he was overseas in the last couple of years of the war, I think, [First World War] when he was barely into his twenties, I suppose.

Talking about your mother, you said she was adventurous, so how did she manage going from actress to farmer’s wife? Do you think it was a happy life for her?

Well, I suppose [chuckle] … probably had its disadvantages. But she and my father got on very well, so that was a happy aspect of farming life, and if some of it wasn’t quite so congenial … well, whose life is totally congenial in every minute, so …

Absolutely. But you said you were born to theatre really, so was that the influence of your mother?

Well yes. Yes, the house was full of plays … copies of plays … that I could read. We couldn’t go to the theatre very often; we lived a long way out of town, and theatre of course was a fairly scarce activity even in Napier or Hastings. They had theatres, and they had companies who were active, but [there] wasn’t any possibility of being involved with those groups because I wouldn’t’ve been allowed to drive into town at night.

How old were you when you got your driver’s licence?

Oh, about thirty, I suppose.

So your first opportunity to get involved with theatre – was that at university?

Oh, at school we did. [Chuckle] I remember doing ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’, and I of course was Lady Whatever-her-name-was; [Lady Bracknell] tough old biddy. That’s at boarding school. And we may’ve … well we did … one-act plays. So generally, even at Nga Tawa, I got the opportunity to perform in a proper theatrical group, learning lines and performing on the stage, full scale. Yes, we performed when I was at that school for six years, so I had the opportunity to perform.

So you really were always exposed to theatre in the sense that you had the availability of those plays to read, and then the opportunity at boarding school?

Yes. Yes, yes. Yes, see the … oh, heavens! The Correspondence School encouraged us to do play readings. [Chuckle]

I have to say it sounds more academic than the Correspondence Schools of today.

Quite likely. [Chuckles]

In Dunedin did you continue to be involved in theatre?

Oh yes, yes.

Ooh, tell us about that – what did you do in Dunedin?

Ibsen, which is … gosh, I can’t remember the name of the damn thing. Oh, ‘Ghosts’ was one of the things we did, Ibsen’s ‘Ghosts’. And we did other things as well, and I can’t …

Were you involved in producing then? Because later on at Patoka you were involved in producing.

Yes, I did direct one or two plays, I think, as well as performing. Not everybody was keen on directing, [chuckle] so I got stuck with that.

I think it was a lot more than one or two by the sound of it too – there’s some people with memories of those plays.

Well of course, for years at Patoka I belonged to the Women’s Institute. We had a drama group, and so most years we put on a one-act play; we couldn’t manage a full-length, though we may’ve done the odd reading of a longer one.

Were the performances at Patoka?

Yes, because we had a perfectly good village hall with a good stage. My husband [Harold Edward Parkhurst] and I saw to that when it was built, which was after we’d been living there for a wee while.

And so all the locals from the area would come to see the plays?

Oh yes; the locals would come, and of course the members of the Women’s Institute performed. My husband was also persuaded to perform, so that was quite nice having two sexes, [chuckle] not just women playing all the men’s parts.

Catherine, when did you meet your husband?

At Vic [Victoria University] I suppose. No … Unity Theatre I think was the first place we actually came together.

And you both travelled to England, I think, early on?

Yes. But you’ll have to wait for a minute, because I’m not sure …

Was he studying psychology?

He was studying psychology, but I was studying languages. I had to study a non-language unit, so … oh gosh, what was it called? Greek History, Art and Literature, I think.

Ooh, that sounds very hard!

It’s not [chuckle] … it’s not a bit hard; there’re all sorts of pleasant things to read, and so that worked perfectly. But anyway …

So I think you got married in 1948?

Yes, I think so.

And then you went to England and …

We went to England quite shortly after.

Where did you live in England?

Mostly in London, I think.

And you had a rather unusual job there – was it working for ..?

A theatrical dressmaker. [Chuckle]

So that brings us to your other amazing talent, which is crafts …

Well I don’t know that it’s amazing, but [chuckles] I‘m quite handy with my fingers.

But you are well-known in this area for your craftsmanship. But that must’ve been rather interesting, working in the theatre … was it costumes?

Well, certainly when we needed costumes I was among the people who could make them, but not necessarily the only one.

Was it a Russian woman you were working for at that time?

Yes, I suppose … what the devil was her name? Oh, I’ll have to [chuckle] let that stew for a while because I can’t remember her name.

When you were in England it was just really after the war, so things must’ve still been quite tough?

Oh yes. Yes, everything was tough. Yes, it’s quite curious; we travelled round and saw places, and went to Canterbury and saw the cathedral in a wide, grassy space – you don’t see it there now. If you’ve been there you know exactly where you can see it … middle of the city. 18.19

What about food while you were there – was it still really hard for people at that time?

Well there was rationing, but there was plenty … plenty to eat. You didn’t get much meat, which of course we Kiwis were accustomed to, but we were never short of nourishment, so that was not a problem.

Probably be an interesting time to be in London?

Yes – I think that almost any time is an interesting time to be in London.

Of course, yeah. And your husband was continuing his studies during that time?

He was also working. Oh, I’ve forgotten what the outfit was called.

But it was in the field of psychology?

Yes.

What brought you back to New Zealand?

Well I could say … got homesick, but I think we came to the conclusion that New Zealand was [a] nice place to live, so we’d come back.

Nice place to bring up children …

Well certainly, yes, that would’ve been tough in England.

When you came back did you straight back to Patoka to live?

I have no idea.

[Chuckle] But you did end up on Patoka Station?

Yes, we had a block of it, and we ran that ourselves.

So you ended up farming?

Yes. I was never hands-on.

Not even as a child?

No!

You didn’t have farm chores to do at all​

No.

So it was always academic?

Yes, from the time we learnt to read, I suppose, we spent a lot of time doing lessons.

And even when you were a farmer’s wife, in a sense you still had your other pursuits, your handcrafts ..?

Yes.

How did you get so good at what you do?

As far as the handcraft went, my grandmother and her sister were skilled craftwomen …[a] couple of Scots women who came out.

And so they taught you to sew and to knit? And did you do weaving as well?

A little bit of weaving, but I don’t remember really, because we didn’t do a lot of that. And one had to have things to do it with. And then, I suppose, we got to the point where we had to go to boarding school, so we couldn’t go on with our handicraft.

But obviously those skills you learnt stayed with you; you must’ve had a love of it as well?

Yes, well we had you know, a talent or a feeling for it and … so we just did it.

And Catherine, when did you get involved in the Women’s Institute? When you came back to Patoka?

Must’ve been, because I don’t think it’d got under way in Patoka until … well, until about the time we went back to live there, I suppose.

And you rose very high in the ranks of Women’s Institute, because I think … did you represent the Institute overseas?

Yes. [Chuckle] Yes; trying to remember the name of it, ‘cause it was an international body of which the Women’s Institute was a local … well, member, I suppose.

But you were representing us nationally overseas?

Yes, at one stage I did.

You must’ve been very capable to have that position?

I had a lot more education than most of the other members, though when I say that [chuckle] I’m remembering that one of the national committee members had been a mistress at Nga Tawa when I was there. Yes – so there was quite a range of women; I mean we weren’t all women with degrees, but a lot of the other members were skilled craftswomen, not particularly verbally educated.

So you had both, really, you had those skills …

Well yes, I’d …

… and the education.

… picked them up as I went, I suppose.

[Break]

It is 14th October [2024]. Catherine, we talked quite a bit about your mother, but not very much about your father; what are your memories of your father?

Ooh gosh … that’ll take time. He did of course go away in the First World War, but only just old enough of course, as [traffic noise] people did in those days; not very sensibly, but still, he came back.

When you say ‘just old enough’, how old was he?

Oh, eighteen or nineteen, I think … awful lot of them told fibs about their age.

And did he interact with you as children much?

Oh, yes. Yes, we were … well, I suppose, a good family; we all interacted, as you say, and talked about all sorts of things that interested us. He was interested in wildlife and all of that, and so we became interested and quite well informed in those days, which is a long time ago now. What I remember is not perhaps particularly interesting, but you know, we enjoyed it.

And you would remember him going away to the Second World War?

Yes. Yes, which had its points.

He was quite a high-ranking officer, wasn’t he?

Yes, he was … gosh … Lieutenant-Colonel, I think, but I’m not sure about that.

I think you’re correct.

I think it was as high as that.

Do you think that you got some of your leadership abilities from him, because he certainly belonged to a lot of different groups and organisations.

Yes. Yes, he was very good at that.

Do you think he enjoyed farming?

Oh yes, I think so; he started, after all, as a farmer’s son in Hastings, and went on doing it. So I imagine he would’ve been able to change careers if he really didn’t like it.

Catherine, you also had a pretty big role to play in what was known as the FUW …

Federation of University Women, yes.

What are your memories of that time?

Nothing in particular.

You played a very active part – your involvement meant that you were elected president in 2000?

Well I suppose if I said so there, I [it] must’ve been true. [Chuckles]

It changed its name, didn’t it, to Federation of Graduate Women?

Yes. Yes, that’s right.

And you were one of the people instrumental in changing the name and putting together policies for them?

Well, I suppose I was if it says so there. [Chuckle]

There was one part of your life that we didn’t really talk about; after graduation you worked for the RNZAF [Royal New Zealand Air Force] as a [an] archivist?

Yes. Yes, it was … well, there was a lot to record, so I got on and did it, I suppose.

How long did you work there?

Couple of years, I think; then I got married and we went to England.

In your spare time during those years you spent time at the Unity Theatre, where you met your husband, in Wellington?

Yes, it was Unity Theatre in Wellington, mmm. But before that I’d been to England; I assume that’s recorded there.

That association with theatre continued, because you belonged to the Napier Repertory Players for many years …

I was a member of the Repertory, but I didn’t perform much because of being out in the country and getting into rehearsals.

Did you ever direct any plays?

Oh yes, Women’s Institute.

But you didn’t direct any here in Napier?

Don’t think I ever did because the travel was inconvenient, to put it mildly.

But you still took a leadership role there too, because you were their representative on the committees, and also on the Hawke’s Bay District Committee for the Repertory Society – New Zealand Theatre Federation.

Yes. Well they probably needed representing on the Hawke’s Bay bodies.

I look at all the things that you belonged to and ended up in a position of leadership …

Well, I suppose I knew what I was doing, so I did it – I mean, that’s presumably what you do, too. [Chuckles] I don’t know, I seemed to be capable of doing it so I did it.

The other thing that I think is interesting is that you’ve been a member for so long of the Embroiderers’ Guild, and the Otatara Trust at EIT [Eastern Institute of Technology] over twenty years.

I haven’t had much to do with the Otatara Trust for a long time, but yes, it was interesting.

Tell me a bit about the Embroiderers’ Guild?

Well, it’s a … I was going to say fairly large, and I think it is reasonably large … company of people who enjoy doing embroidery. And we used to meet, but I can’t remember now how often. And I was in the country of course, it was more difficult, but sometimes I stayed with somebody in town … one of my friends or one of the Guild … and so I spent the night there and didn’t have to drive in the middle of the night. I had a certain amount of trouble with my husband about that. But of course after he died, if I didn’t go I couldn’t get to anything, so I altered my habits accordingly.

Is that when you became involved in more of those associations?

Well I suppose it was, really, because that was when I could get away and do it. [?] was interesting, and [I was] young and energetic enough; I just went and did it.

You had quite a long period of widowhood?

Oh yes, yes.

Well you certainly used that time to support so many groups and institutions …

Well, I was free to do it, so I did it. It would have been, I suppose, rather a lonely life if I hadn’t had enough to do.

You moved from Patoka into Taradale ..?

Yes, I had a little house in King Street, so that was handy and convenient.

Was it a big decision to move away from Patoka?

No, I think it seemed to follow on naturally as far as I remember it; just sort of developed.

Catherine, I did wonder about your grandmother that [who] you seemed to spend a bit of time with in Hastings. Was she an influence in your life?

I’ve no idea really. We certainly spent a bit of time staying with them in Hastings, the grandparents. And my grandmother had a sister. She was a very small woman; she was called ‘the At’, because we couldn’t say ‘aunt’ when we were really little, so we said ‘At’, and she went on to be called ‘the at’, as long as she lived, I suppose. But she was a dear old thing, very devoted.

So they lived together, the two sisters?

Yes. Yes, they lived well out of Hastings at a place called Woodland … oh, I can’t remember the name of the street. [Crosses Road] It was on the way between Hastings and Napier, but it was off the main road between Napier and Havelock North.

They did teach you quite a lot of the handcrafts that you became so well-known for, didn’t they?

Oh yes, Granny and At were very good at it. Probably have some of theirs round here, but I can’t see it at the moment.

Did your sister show the same interest in handcrafts?

She was an artist … painter and drawer … and she went on doing that I think for … many years, anyway.

So you were both creative?

Yes. Mother was an actress which is another line of creation, I suppose.

Your own following of theatre and going on to direct and perform in plays, I’m sure owes a lot to your mother as well ..?

Yes. Small, little, funny, and her performances, but still it was all good fun.

And Catherine, what do you owe your long life to?

Oh, heavens! Why do some people live longer than others? I ate well, I think, but obviously not enough to get terribly stout; I had plenty to do.

We didn’t talk much about your children – that would’ve been a busy time?

Any children [chuckle] keep you busy. How can I put them in a nutshell?

They were born when you returned from England?

Yes, they were all born in New Zealand.

So they were brought up farming as well?

Yes, but it’s more complicated than that sounds, what we were doing there.

Did they have to go away for their secondary ..?

Well eventually, yes. The boys went to [Wanganui] Collegiate, and the girl went to Woodford [House]. I didn’t really approve of that; I went to Nga Tawa in … oh, the other side of the country, anyway …

Marton? Is that where you would’ve chosen for her to go, Nga Tawa?

My daughter? No, I don’t think so; didn’t send her there anyway; she went to Woodford, which was handy. Nga Tawa wasn’t. Oh, part of the Nga Tawa bit was that one of the … oh, directors or whatever you call the members of the [loud voices coming through recording, inaudible] … group of local gentlemen who ran the place; one of them was my godfather because he’d been at school with my father, I think, and they’d been great golfers together. So that … well, they met in the town, I suppose.

So that’s how you came to end up going there?

To Nga Tawa, yes.

Because of that relationship?

Well, yes, I suppose it would. I didn’t like it.

No, and you remember it all these years later.

I think it was in the 1980s that you were made a Justice of the Peace; you’d still be at Patoka?

Yes, I think so.

Did you have additional things to do when you became a JP?

I really can’t think what specially I did; trying to find out.

It is an honour, though?

Yes, I think so. It was necessary to have people in the country in that position, and so there were three or four of us up the Patoka Road. There was me at Patoka, and Cecil Thomsen further down at Hendley, and … oh, what the devil was his name? At Rissington.

They obviously thought it was necessary to have them in the countryside.

Yes, they did; they needed people to take oaths of one sort and another.

To witness documents?

Yes.

Well I think we’ll finish there, Catherine, for now.

For now, she says, hopefully. [Chuckles]

Is that you saying ‘hopefully’? [Chuckles]

I was thinking you were saying it.

Not at all.