June Hamilton Interview

Erica Tenquist: I’m talking to June Hamilton at Ahuriri, Napier, and the date today is 21st February 2020. With me is Jenny Hall.

So, June, could you tell us a bit about yourself?

I was born in Wairoa, so I lived there all my life ‘til I moved to Mahia with my husband, and we had ten years there; then we came down to Napier in 2001 and I’ve been here since then. Whilst I was here my husband passed away in 2009 and I’ve been on my own since then. Two of my daughters built the apartment that I’m living in now, so I’m very lucky because they’re very hard to get – apartments in Napier.

And it’s a perfect place to go to Art Deco. Did you go to Art Deco at all?

We used to, yes. Can’t this year.

So we’ll now go back and start at the beginning; when you were born …

Righto, well, I’m a twin and my sister and I were born in Wairoa Maternity Annexe in 1929 and that annexe was in Queen Street, I think, at the time, on the corner, [an] old house. It actually moved when I was having my children to the other side of the Borough District School, and I think it stayed there for many, many years. [Chuckle]

Jenny: It was Black Street.

June: Black Street.

Your twin, what was her name?

Fay.

And is she still alive too?

No. No, she died quite a long time ago. We both went nursing in Gisborne and because of the fact that you weren’t allowed to get married while you were nursing ‘cause you had to live in, she stayed nursing and I returned to Wairoa and got married. So we separated, and she met someone in Gisborne and got married there, or actually at Waiotahi Valley – my mother and father were living there at the time. We had a big wedding there and she lived in Gisborne for the rest of her life but she passed away quite a few years ago.

You don’t know the date?

Well, I did know, but I’ve forgotten I’m sorry.

What was her married name?

Williams; married Bert Williams from Gisborne.

So he’d be Albert Williams?

Yes.

Did they have children?

Yes, they had two girls and one boy.

And did you go to school in Wairoa?

Yes. Oh yes, I was brought up in Wairoa; went to Wairoa Primary School and then the District High School. And then my mother was very ill when I was about sixteen and she was in and out of hospital. We didn’t quite know what was happening, but she evidently was having miscarriages. She spent a lot of time in hospital and in the finish I left school and was helping at home with the other five children.

Five younger brothers and sisters?

Mmm, well Fay was the same age as me. So I got a job with Peter in the studio and she worked for Winters, and then we both decided that we would like to go nursing. And so I started there but I got engaged at Christmas-time …

To Peter … second name?

Peter Budge Hamilton.

And he was … photography ..?

Hamilton Studios. And he learnt that when he was in the navy in the … part air force. He joined and trained for the navy out of Auckland.

So he was a cadet?

Yes. And then he went overseas and they hadn’t picked up that he had an impediment of speech and he had done all his work for a commission and he just had to go and visit the Admiral and he would’ve been granted his commission. And when he went to speak to the Admiral he couldn’t say his name.

Oh!

So the Admiral said, “Well, we can’t put you back into rank.” He said, “I don’t know what we’re going to do with you ‘cause you’ve done all this training, but I can’t give you a commission because if you had to give an order under stress …” Funnily enough, he never ever did that under stress. But he hated the phone Pete did; he loathed the phone because if he had to say his name over the phone, he couldn’t.

So that went with him for the rest of his life?

Yes. Yes. And he got teased at school, and one boy used to take him off and he actually ended up worse than Pete. And when he was older – he’d actually come through to Wairoa – it was in the club next door, and Pete and another friend were there; and he had a worse impediment than Peter because he’d copied it and it stuck with him. Peter got rid of his, really, except sometimes. But he couldn’t use the phone. If people knew who was talking he was fine, but he couldn’t say his name over the phone. So that was my job. [Chuckle]

Jenny: Where was Peter born?

June: Gisborne. He was the youngest of five children.

Well, Grandad Cooper lived with us always – that’s mother’s father. Granny died when Fay and I were babies, and her eldest sister, Mildred I think, died just before Gran. I understood that they got that bad flu that was going round at the time. [Spanish flu] But it turns out that they did get the flu I think, but also Mildred had been pregnant and lost the child. She didn’t marry and she actually died. But I didn’t know that until just recently, actually.

So what was [were] your mother and father’s names?

My mother was Freda Cooper, and Dad was Harry Rua Howell. And he was called Rua because Gran at the time was living up at the lake (Waikaremoana) running a boarding house – Granny Howell – and she had a Māori man midwife, and he sat outside and told the ladies what to do – that’s what their custom was at the time. And so that’s how he got called Rua, so he was Harry Rua Howell. [Spells, H-o-w-e-l-l] Yes, so that was interesting. And Gran ran a boarding house up there for years, evidently, in Lake Waikaremoana.

And was that boarding house near Tuai?

Past Tuai, right up in the Waikaremoana …

And we’re talking about the 1920s, are we?

Must’ve been, ‘cause Dad was born there.

Might’ve been earlier?

Might’ve been, yes … ‘cause I was born in 1929, so that would’ve only made him ten, so yes.

Before 1900? Yes.

Mmm.

And the boarding house – was that for workers around the lake, or …

Yes.

the power stations? ‘Cause I don’t think the power station was there then.

No. The power station didn’t come there ‘til I was about ten, I think, in Tuai.

So we’ll go to your parents then; they met at Wairoa or Gisborne?

Wairoa. Dad was driving for the Duco Motor Company – I think it was Duco. Mum was working in the office over the road from him that was on the corner where the supermarket is today. She worked for the Hawke’s Bay Motor Company, and Dad was working this side for some transport company, ‘cause that’s where he started up his business of trucks … or is it where he got his first truck? So that’s how they met; she was a book-keeper for the Hawke’s Bay Motor Company.

And he was driving and had trucks?

Yes. So they were all born in Rissington, and there were five boys and two girls in his family, and Betty, the youngest one, was only two years older than Fay and I, and we weren’t allowed to call her ‘auntie’ [laughter] when we were kids. [Chuckles]

Jenny: The Howell family are well documented, aren’t they, in [a] genealogical tree?

June: Are they? Yes.

Jenny: Aren’t they? Is that the same family?

June: I don’t know.

Granny was a bit of a hard case. She was a redhead; she used to ride horses, so Claude Allen told me, all round the district. And she was midwife, untrained, but she was the local midwife, and she ran a post office and a boarding house. And there always – I can just remember – there were always people staying; there was always on open fire a big pot of vegetables, which I don’t think was ever emptied – it was always full. Mum never liked going there. [Chuckles] She fed people. I mean, they used to get … at that time when she was running the telephone exchange on party lines where sometimes there were six or … and people’d come rushing in going mad, ‘cause this woman was on the phone and they couldn’t use the phone. [Chuckles] Party lines were [the] bane of her life ‘cause she had to do the exchange.

How old were you then?

Oh, must’ve been about five or six. So we loved going to Gran’s ‘cause she used to let us bake, or do anything. And we used to walk down the hill and around to the store – which was about half a mile – to buy stuff and come back and cook it.

And is this out at ..?

Rissington. We used to love going there as kids – Mum never liked it ‘cause she didn’t think that pot ever got emptied. [Chuckles]

Jenny: ‘Cause if you arrived, Gran always fed you?

June: Yeah. And if any … what would you call them, after that first world war? Lot of harmed men running around; hobos, they used to call them. And they would come … they knew; they had a sign outside to say this was a safe house to come to for a meal. And it was a safe house for a meal. [Chuckle] It’s a wonder they didn’t get poisoned, [chuckles] Mum used to think. [Chuckles]

Would you go there most school holidays?

Yes. Yes.

And how would you get there?

Well Dad had trucks, and he also had a car, and he would take us in the car to Rissington and drop Mum and us all off, and then back he’d go to his trucks, ‘cause he employed all his brothers as well. There was Horace, Gary, Alec … I can’t think how many, four? Yeah, and there were two girls, Beryl and Betty. [Motorbike noise]

And you mentioned Claude Allen. Was Claude Allen one of his friends?

No, no. He must have lived at Rissington at some stage, ‘cause he said Gran was a redhead; well when we knew her, ‘course, she wasn’t. She was grey.

Did you become a prefect or anything when you got to the high school?

No, ‘cause I left in the fourth form, unexpectedly – Mum had had miscarriages while we were holidaying at Mahia. I used to have to run for Doctor Jardine to come I don’t know how many times. Well I didn’t know what was happening – there was blood everywhere; I think I must’ve been about nine or ten. And she ended up in hospital and ‘cause I was the biggest twin I …

You got the job?

Yes. And my headmaster at the time said, “Now, you’re coming back to school when your mother’s better, aren’t you, June?” “Yes,” I said, ‘cause I loved school. But anyhow, that was … I didn’t ever get back to school.

But you caught up; you had enough language to be accepted to be a nurse.

Yes, oh yes. Yes. But then I didn’t stay, you see, because I got myself engaged. And I wasn’t going to be engaged for three years in Gisborne, [chuckle] and my husband in Wairoa. It wasn’t going to work. We never even thought about it at the time; I went back after I’d got engaged and the matron said to me, “Oh, Miss Howell – when are you planning to get married?” And I said, “Well we haven’t even talked about that yet.” She said, “Well, you’re going to have to, aren’t you?” And I said, “Why?” She said, “Well, you’ve got to live in.” ‘Cause the nurses had to live in in those days; they were not allowed to leave for three years. So you knew that you were stuck. And at the end of your three years after living in there was one room for the nurses that actually finished, that they could have ‘til they did their final exams. I must say that quite a lot of nurses didn’t finish, because … [Chuckles]

Obvious reasons.

[Chuckles] Yes.

So you were married at Wairoa then?

No, married in Gisborne, ‘cause my father was so angry – he didn’t want me to get married so soon.

How old were you?

Eighteen, nineteen. So my in-laws put on my wedding.

And was your frock beautiful?

Oh, it was lovely. And Fay was my … and Joy and Pat, my younger sisters, were at school at Ayton House in Gisborne, and they came to the wedding. And Mum did too, and Dad did turn up. yes. He turned up at the church.

Did you have a reception?

Yes, Peter’s parents put it on. And I know that Dad gave them some money for it, but [road noise] he never told me. I forget who told me [chuckle] – that was years later.

So you were married happily to Peter for how many years?

Forty-five.

So how many children did you have?

Six.

So is Vicky one of the eldest?

Second-to-youngest. Megan is the youngest; she lives in Sydney, and my son and Gay live in Perth; Gay’s my second daughter. Christine, the oldest one, is in Auckland, and that’s where my thirty-eight grandchildren and great-grandchildren are. Gay was next, and she only had two children. She had a terribly bad accident when she was first married; she was actually pregnant with her first child, and we thought she was going to lose him ‘cause she was so badly damaged. But after a few years of hospital treatment – I went over for about six months, and …

Did Peter go with you, or was he a photographer still?

Well he had to be, ‘cause he had weddings. So I had to go on my own, so I was backwards and forwards quite a bit.

Can you tell us about the photography business at that stage?

Well, it was straight photography, studio only and candid, and in those days we processed all our own stuff in the darkroom. And we did people’s films that they had in their cameras – that was quite a big business until colour came in, and that changed it a bit, and then …

When did colour come in? Would it be in the fifties?

I think it’d be in the fifties, ‘cause I remember we went up to Gisborne to KKK [Limited] – he was the first one to have a colour machine and he was doing our films in colour but it was very expensive; very expensive for a long time.

Did you have your own house in Wairoa?

Not to start off with – we lived above the studio. But after I had two children – they were six weeks old – it was too awkward … cramped … and we moved into a State House for six months while we had a loan for our house through RSA. And every time we got some plans done and the builder … somebody would pinch the builder; they were very hard to get, builders, at that time because it was not long after the war; people weren’t doing … Anyhow, I think we drew up six lots of plans in the finish.

And then this lovely old house came on the market and Lyall [?] talked to Peter about it, and he said we could use our money that we had towards that, and he said, “You’ll be better off.” Because every time we got a builder something would happen, and I was having another baby so the plans would have to be altered, and it was getting to be a bit of a nightmare.

So what street did you end up in?

Awhitu Street.

Still not far from the photography studio?

Oh yes, quite a way. Yes, well as the river goes round like that, the studio was here [demonstrates] and the house was out here. So my father was furious when we bought it; he really told Peter off. He said, “You can’t leave a girl down here on her own” – ‘cause there was [were] no houses around at the time – “with these children. How’s she going to manage?” But anyhow, we managed.

Did you do all your own cooking and housework and looking after the children?

I wasn’t at the photographers from the first baby, because Pete employed people. The business was well on its own feet. And the day my youngest daughter started school I had a whole week, to think, ‘Well, what am I going to do?’ And it was lovely. [Chuckle] We had two acres of land, so I was planning all these gardens and things, and Peter had a massive heart attack. Oh!

He was in hospital for six months, so that was the end of that.

So you ran the business?

I couldn’t do the processing; we farmed it out to a lab in Gisborne. And we kept it going, and it gradually changed because when he came out … because the six months he spent, in those days with that sort of heart attack he had, he never put a foot to the ground. They nursed him completely on bed rest, which was really the wrong thing to do, as they discovered [in] later years. And so I would have to go up; we had a van – I had the children in the van – and visit him as much as I could while trying to run the business and keep the kids going. It was a bit of a nightmare, really. And one day – luckily I didn’t have the kids in the car – we had this van, and I’m sure I put the handbrake on, ‘cause it was a round thing there, and I’m sitting on Peter’s bed, talking to him, and suddenly the van takes off towards the Nurses’ Home. [Chuckle] And the gardener at the hospital was running after it; I don’t know what he thought he was going to do, he couldn’t pull it … and it went over to the Nurses’ Home into the drain. I didn’t have the children, thank God! [Chuckle] And it just tipped over the bank and stayed there. I mean the kids would’ve been all right if they had, but they could’ve been in there ‘cause they weren’t allowed to go and see their father; they could just wave to him [chuckle] through the window ‘cause he had the outside room.

And was that at the hospital that’s where it is now, up on the hill?

Yes, but it was the old building, and he had a nice view of everybody coming and going. And he was not allowed visitors but everyone used to come up to this window and chat to him [chuckles] so that was nice. They just kept him … that was the treatment, was six months flat on his bottom. [Chuckle]

Did you join the Women’s Institute and things like that?

I didn’t have time. [Speaking together] I had a lot to do with them afterwards, when I was running programmes.

That comes on later. So the children went to Wairoa School as well? Mmm.

And then to Wairoa College, or did you send them as boarders?

No, no, they went … couldn’t afford boarding school. Wairoa College was – Wairoa District High School it was then – was good. They all did well; Christine did Occupational Therapy; Gay was a nurse; Brett and Leslie were school teachers; Vicky was a nurse; who’ve I missed out? Megan was an Occupational Therapist – I had two occupational therapists, Christine and Megan. That’s all of them, so they all did well. People run little towns down but you gain an awful lot of knowledge [chuckle] I think, in a little place.

Now, what were you given your ONZM [Officer of the New Zealand Order of Merit] for?

Services to the community. Well, I got involved with the hospital; I forget how I got involved with that. And I became Chairman of the Wairoa Hospital Committee. And then I got talked into standing against Freddie Beattie??? in Wairoa for the Hospital Board because nobody liked Fred; they didn’t think he was doing anything for Wairoa. And so I thought, ‘Oh, yes – I don’t mind having a go.’ I never dreamt I’d get in, but I did.

Do you know what year approximately that would’ve been?

I’m not sure.

Did you serve for the three years, or five years?

Nine. Well I got on to the Hawke’s Bay Board as well.

And what else, ‘cause you probably had a finger in something else as well?

Well I started a lot of projects. One of them was, at the time when you were old, you ended up in hospital and you died there. And it was really sad, because people didn’t visit, like they do now anyhow, because nobody had cars. And I worried about these people being sort of lost. And then there were a lot of people – I used to do Meals on Wheels – a lot of people that you went to saw nobody, and they got isolated; and I tried to do something about that.

You started a Visitors’ Service?

Yes. And I rang around and got the people from the hospital to come to the Nurses’ Home which was empty, and we put on one day a week. And I talked [to] a few of my friends like June Richardson and a few others to help me, and we used to spend the day with them. And what we did was, we brought all the old ladies – not many men, but mostly old ladies – over for the day, and the hospital I took them into, ‘cause I was on the Hospital Committee at the time and I became Chairman, so I had a bit of power. And I talked the hospital into providing the lunches, ‘cause they were just a few extras from the town, so that they still kept up with their friends. And I spent weeks on the phone to people asking if they would help – would they give just one day a year, just for a couple of hours, to pick up the people in town and bring them up to the hospital, and preferably to stay there and help with the lunch and everything, which came over from the hospital. I talked the kitchen into providing the lunches, because they just had to do a few extra because the hospital ones were being fed anyhow. And we managed to get the budget so that the people that helped got a lunch, too.

Did you go into the realms of having lunches that were suitable for the Māori people?

No. They didn’t at the time because Lena Manuel was on the Board with me and she didn’t do anything about that, unfortunately. She did lots of other things on committees and things, but she was useless at getting anything done. So we didn’t; but I had a lot of Māori women that I knew that came; I mean, we did do that. And there were a lot of lonely Māori people out in the community – because the Māori people were saying, “No, we look after our old people.” Well, they didn’t. I mean, they might have some, but they really didn’t. There were a lot of lonely old ladies, so we gradually …

Brought them in.

Yes. But it took a lot of time on the phone; and the country women were my best people because they were helpful; the townpeoplee were a bit … you know.

A lot of them would be working for the freezing works – their husbands would be …

Yes.

you’d have thought they’d’ve had some time …

Yes. So you’re fighting against lots of hard-core people who don’t think they should do things; I don’t know. But I found that the country women were my best helpers, and the town people … some of them came, some didn’t stay, some did. But we had a [an] empty ward, the Eleanor Harvey Ward, up at the hospital. So there were a lot of young Māori people with nothing to do, ‘specially girls, so I managed to talk to the person in Wairoa who was running a Government thing … can’t think of the name now … I had to really talk very hard to get her to start a little programme where we would pick up some of the old people that we did Meals-on-Wheels [for] and bring them up to the hospital for a day, and bring the old people over from the hospital. It started gradually. June Richardson was a huge help to me with the country people – the country women were much more responsive than the town women – they felt they had better things [chuckle] to do, I suppose – I don’t know, but it was …

Did you help in St John’s Ambulance?

Not at the start.

But at the end you were doing that?

Yes. ‘Cause I was on the … the hospital had its own committee … Wairoa Hospital … and when I became chairman of that, I got a lot of other things I could get done. But because I was on the Hawke’s Bay Hospital Board as well …

One would help the other?

But it did take a lot, but I had a very supportive husband. After his heart attack, he was never able to do the things that he used to be able to do so he encouraged me to do these things. He said, you know, “I can manage at home; you go and do this”, and he pushed me.

And what about the swimming club, or any of the sports clubs?

No, no. We had a big swimming pool up at the hospital that we made open to the public for a long time, and the nurses used to use it, ‘specially those who were living in. But you see, things changed with hospitals; the nurses didn’t live in, and once I left a lot of things dropped off.

Passing public going through from Napier to Gisborne – how did that affect the town itself?

Well, it actually survived very well, really. ‘Cause it was a stopping-off place. I mean it was a long trip to Napier and a long trip to Gisborne, so I think the passing traffic … well, it always stopped at Ostlers. [Chuckle]

Ostler’s Bakery?

Yes. [Chuckle] And so it sort of spread along the town a bit.

Jenny: Wairoa supported a big rural area, too, didn’t it?

June: Well they did.

Jenny: Lots of farms around.

June: Yes. And at the time the farmers were our best helper[s], then we had that terrible bout where everything collapsed in the farming world. We had a couple of suicides … farmers … and it was really quite bad, and I lost a lot of my helpers that way.

That would have been after Bola? [Cyclone Bola, 1988]

I think it might’ve been …

And when the bridge collapsed?

Yeah – oh yeah, that was a long time after that. Yes, before that we’d a real downturn, because everything seemed to go wrong for farming at the time. It was really very sad; I think there was [were] two suicides.

Jenny: Going back earlier, I think it was about 1948, there was a big flood, and that would’ve affected the studios?

June: No, ‘cause I wasn’t married until ’49.

Jenny: Oh, right.

June: So … yes, Peter was taking photos of that. It actually came through the studio; yes, it was about this high. [Chuckle] And out your way [referring to Jenny’s home] was Heather and Dan Walker, and …

You went for a picnic?

Yes.

Jenny: At Ardkeen.

June: Yes. And your Mum and Dad were living on that farm.

Jenny: At Matai, at Ardkeen, yep.

June: Yes. And we all came down to where that little creek was.

This is Jenny Hall’s parents – they went and had a picnic …

Yes, David and Isobel.

And when you wanted to get more photographic equipment, how would Peter get it?

Very difficult.

Because he wouldn’t be able to import much?

No, you couldn’t, you had to buy it through .. Kodak were really wonderful, and H E Perry – I don’t think they’re going today – but they really helped him a lot. And we had a couple of people down here, and one in Gisborne that had been in photography for quite a while, and they gave Pete quite a lot of equipment that they weren’t using. So everyone helped each other then; I suppose they still do, I don’t know, not being in business.

Jenny: So during the fifties and sixties Peter would have been busy with wedding photography, ‘cause he would’ve been the only one in Wairoa doing it, wouldn’t he?

June: Well, yes, and by that stage everything … because it was colour, we couldn’t afford that sort of machinery … and it had to go to Gisborne or down to Wellington. And the Post Office – we’d just taken his daughter’s wedding – and all of the photos went down to Wellington to be processed. The colour stuff was experimental, and you spent a lot of money on it and then a few months later you’d have to buy another … And then you know, that was no good; you couldn’t sell it. It was [a] very expensive time, so …

Biggest expense is when your children were young?

Yes, but we survived. It was hard going at times.

[Shows photos, some discussion, not relevant to interview]

I [did] live in massage out at Mahia, for cancer patients, and I did training on therapeutic massage.

I formed a Jack and Jill Te Kupenga Mahi Trust when I was out at Mahia for some work I was trying to do out there, [shows photo] and this is just a little bit of what …

What it involved …

Yes, and what led to it as well.

Jenny: What year did you go out to Mahia?

June: We came here in 2001 and we were at Mahia for ten years, so take away ten years from 2001 …

1991.

Mmm. Yeah. [Chuckle]

Did you enjoy being out at Mahia instead of in Wairoa?

Loved it … loved it.

How did your life change?

Well, we made a lot of really good friends out there, who are all now passed on. I don’t think there’s any of them left at all.

The Underwoods might be; they would’ve been out there then?

Oh, later – much later.

Christine and Brian Underwood – he was one of the doctors.

Mmm, in Wairoa. Yes, they came later; I think it might’ve been after we’d left.

And did you always have crayfish when you went to the Mahia Hotel?

I didn’t work at the hotel then.

No, no – when you went there for a meal?

Oh yes; yes, it didn’t start until halfway through when we were there. It was quite a while – it sort of went and stopped and went and stopped for a long time, but it has gradually grown. [Chuckle] It’s just that sometimes people didn’t work well together, and it changed.

And would the difference be between when some families left and others came?

Yes.

There would be a change of owners of the hotel, too?

No, mostly locals managed it; they sort of got on, and then they didn’t get on. It was mostly locals that had the hotel.

Jenny: It was only a small group of permanent residents, wasn’t it?

June: Mmm.

Jenny: Most of it was holiday people.

June: Yes. Yes, there weren’t many permanents. There were the Ormonds and … goodness, I can’t think of their names … knew them so well.

Smith?

Yes, that was before the Smiths went.

They were great friends of Peter; we actually sold our house to one of them. Bowens … Jack and Jill …

So when you went out to Mahia, did you sell the photography studio?

Yes.

So that you went into retirement out there?

Yes, we did.

What did you spend most of your day doing, you and Peter?

I don’t know, we just seemed to be busy. Well we were busy altering the house that we’d bought, and then we made a lot of friends out there and we seemed to be very social for a long time with the Bowens and the Ormonds, and … They started the golf club there, but Peter couldn’t last [at] that ‘cause he couldn’t walk far enough.

You were just happy out there …

Yes, we were. Well, I got tied up with Māori organisations, with Health, and we managed to get a clinic going there. It took a lot of toing and froing, especially … I don’t know, have you heard of Pauline Tangiora? She’s wonderful, and she’s a … not so wonderful person. [Chuckle] I don’t know whether you know her or not. Well, she was on our committee.

So you were extending what you had been doing with Health, out at Mahia?

Yes. Because you see, there was nothing out there, really, and we managed to get a health clinic started. But there was a lot of politics went on ‘cause Des Blake got involved, and you never knew quite where you were with Pauline, ‘cause she was always hopping off overseas. Yes, so it was trying times. [Chuckle]

But then you came down here in 2001?

Mmm.

Did you go yachting down here when you were close to the yacht club?

No. No, no. Well, it was because our kids were all yachties. We lived by the river when we were in Wairoa – our house went down to the riverbank, so all of our kids had yachts. They started with little P-class, and went up, so we were very involved that way. Once we went to Mahia, ‘ course the kids had all gone off, you see – they didn’t; except for Brett … had one boat there that he used to come and use. But the yachting club used to have something out there every year and we’d always get involved with that. But mostly I got into the Health thing.

Well, we’ll leave it there today, for you. Thank you, June, very much – and Jenny.

Original digital file

HamiltonJ3333_Final_Mar20.ogg

Additional information

Interviewer:  Erica Tenquist

People

  • June Hamilton

Accession number

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