Commemoration meets community.
There might be a playgroup one day, indoor bowls the next, or a tangi, a Euchre night, a wedding, a roller derby, a cabaret, a community board meeting, a life drawing class, a gig.
Almost every small town in Aotearoa has one: a town hall. They are often called the heart of their communities, but they are brains too, multi-functional facilities that roll the kinds of spaces you find in abundance in cities — music venues, classrooms, council chambers, churches, daycares, libraries, shuffleboard courts — all into one. Many of these have an additional purpose too, one of commemoration.
In Aotearoa, memorial halls date to the post-World War I era. Before the war ended, memorial monuments had started to spring up around the country, many in the form of cenotaphs, statues and plinths. According to historian Jock Phillips, in his book To the Memory: New Zealand’s War Memorials, “national pride and imperial propaganda” informed these memorials, but so, he writes, did grief. More than 18,000 New Zealand men died, in action, of their wounds, or of disease, during the conflict, 16,697 of whom were buried overseas. “The war memorial functioned as a surrogate tomb.”
Still, this approach to commemoration was not without controversy. Some felt money could be better spent, tending to wounded veterans, for example, or creating endowments for widows and children. There was also “much support for utilitarian memorials — buildings or facilities that would serve the community. The most popular choice was a hall”.
The idea didn’t exactly take off. Only 24 memorial halls were built nationwide in the wake of World War I, representing less than 5% of 505 community memorials erected during the post war period. This changed after World War II, Phillips explains. For one, the Labour government was less interested in imperial glory and more interested in practicalities. In 1946, Minster of Internal Affairs Bill Parry announced a subsidy for the construction of community centres that would also serve as memorials. These would primarily be town halls, but they also could include swimming pools, libraries and sports facilities. The idea, Parry wrote in his forward to a booklet explaining the initiative, was to create commemoration through the kind of place “where the heroic deeds of our men and women overseas can be constantly recalled … and [which] actively perpetuates and fosters the ideals for which they died.”
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The government eventually contributed to 362 projects, 277 of which were in rural areas. Phillips notes that the government funding generally only covered less than half of construction costs. Local committees tended to raise the rest: “bazaars selling scones, cakes and toys were common, and a popular initiative was the Queen Carnival, at which local people voted with money for women who aspired to the title.”
Not all town halls are war memorial halls, but they are so prevalent that community centres that are not officially designated as such are still often referred to as “the memorial hall”. And when someone uses that phrase, you know just what they mean. Draughty, echo-y rooms, a kitchen with an aging zip, cheap to hire. Though some have been replaced recently, often due to earthquake risk, most remain very much as they were the day they were built. This can both be a blessing (elegant art deco lines, stacked stone, rimu tongue and groove flooring) and a curse (lack of insulation, long-established communities of rodents).
Whatever the state of any given memorial hall, the poignancy of its dual purpose will persist. While you are playing badminton, square dancing or, as I once did at the Luggate Memorial Hall, straining to hear Don McGlashan sing over the howling of an immensely drunk woman in the back row, you might pause for a moment to read the names memorialised on the inevitable plaque. You might count the number of names and compare that number to the population of the community you are in. You might notice, heartbreakingly, that some of the people listed share the same surname.
For all these reasons, memorial halls are treasured in small towns. Here are some of our favourites.
Ōmarama Memorial Hall, Mackenzie Country
Built in 1959, the Ōmarama Memorial Hall was succumbing to neglect when a public meeting was held in 2009 about its future. At the time, there was no heating or fire alarm, and the wiring was a mess; the hall could not be used in winter at all. The community rallied, fundraising commenced, and $750,000 and five years later the renovated and extended building re-opened as a fully-serviced community centre, complete with commercial kitchen, stage, seating for 120 people, broadband, a library and doctors’ rooms. It has been used enthusiastically and often ever since, a testament to the value of halls like these, having hosted everything from Ahuriri Community Board meetings, to line dancing classes, to a cooking demonstration with celebrity chef Simon Gault.
PICTURE PERFECT. THE MT SOMERS WAR MEMORIAL HALL. PHOTO: WADE GRIFFITHS
Mt Somers War Memorial Hall, Canterbury
Isn’t this place just a postcard? With its curved, church-y front doors and white walls built from Mt Somers limestone, the circa-1922 Mt Somers War Memorial Hall is an absolute peach, one that looks even prettier thanks to a 2021 upgrade supported by the Provincial Growth Fund. Its completion was celebrated with a special afternoon tea. Of course it was.
Good looks aside, the granite tablets listing the names of local service personnel killed in service are a reminder of the cost of war for small communities and for families. The World War I memorial plaques list 44 people, and there are two of each of the following surnames: Boucher, Brown, Burgess, McRae, Sutton, Stephen and Williams.
Ophir Peace Memorial Hall, Central Otago
Ophir boasts not a war memorial hall, but a peace memorial hall, something the township’s 50 or so residents are immensely proud of. This pride stretches back to the day the hall opened in May 1926, which was covered by Otago Daily Times: “the morning of the opening broke cloudless and calm, and the day kept so. The sun shone brightly upon some 250 people gathered outside in front of the hall and upon some 50 motor cars lining both sides of the street.” People came from all around, including the Ida Valley, Becks, Lauder, Clyde, Ōmakau and Alexandra. “Nine stalls were under the care of ladies, while men supervised roulette and ‘race game’ tables… the excitement of stalls and games was heightened by the entry every half-hour or so of the secretary to read out the numbers and winners of several raffles which had concluded. It had been intended to close at 11 o’clock, but it was 11.30pm before the crowd perceptibly thinned.” It was “the greatest bazaar ever held in Ophir”.
Clyde District War Memorial Hall, Central Otago
Designed by the county engineer and opened in 1953, Clyde District War Memorial Hall is art deco through and through, from the lettering above the front door to the curved wood panelling in the foyer to the wall-mounted lights. It’s home to both the Clyde Library and the venue for the legendary community-based theatre productions put on by the Clyde Theatre Group. Recent highlights include The Illiterate Book Club, Canoeing for Beginners and Waiting for Gateaux.
Wakapuaka Memorial Hall, Nelson Lakes
Set on the side of State Highway 6 in Wakapuaka, a wee township just north of Nelson, the Wakapuaka Memorial Hall is a sweet little ode to Moderne-style architecture complete with (possibly due to budgetary constraints) a trio of false front windows. Still, there’s something about the three pillars adjacent to the entrance that recalls Washington’s Lincoln Memorial. And the modest façade belies what is inside: a 120-person capacity venue with a fully-stocked kitchen, 80 padded chairs and six trestle tables. The hire fee for social functions is $236 per day, surely one of the cheapest wedding venues in the Southern Hemisphere.
BARRYTOWN HALL REGULARS THE EASTERN ON HALLOWED GROUND. PHOTO: JASON BLAIR
Barrytown Settlers Hall, West Coast
Hello Barrytown! Built of timber, complete with shuttered windows to keep the light out on long summer evenings, the Barrytown Settlers Hall doesn’t look like a typical memorial hall, but it is one, having gained war memorial status in 1955 when the original building (erected in 1929, apparently to serve as a cinema) was modified and an annex added.
The Barrytown Hall is best known as a music venue. In fact, it is world famous as a music venue. In a Radio New Zealand documentary about the hall, the musician Anthonie Tonnon called it “hallowed ground” for acts touring Aotearoa, thanks in part to its “reverberant” sound. Bands who have passed through Barrytown include UK Subs, The Dance Exponents, Trinity Roots, American post-rockers Trans Am, Steve Albini’s Shellac and The Mint Chicks.
Things have been known to get rowdy. In the Radio New Zealand piece, Robert Scott from The Bats describes how the band’s 1988 gig in Barrytown was interrupted by a motorcycle gang who, after being denied entry, drove their bikes into the hall, did a few wheelies, jumped on the stage, and commandeered the mic.
LAURA WILLIAMSON
