Wyn Drabble: You don't know what you've got till it's gone

Wyn Drabble asks why we are destroying our past. Photo / File

In her 1970 song Big Yellow Taxi, US singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell sang, "Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone, they paved paradise and put up a parking lot."

Later, in one of the most striking lines of the song, "They took all the trees and put 'em in a tree museum".

The same idea applies to heritage buildings and I became more aware of this during my recent visit to the South Island.

The two examples which struck me most and which I know I have mentioned before were the Hydro Grand Hotel in Timaru (built 1912, demolished 2017) and the Ashburton Railway Station (built 1917, demolished 2013), both of which were significant landmarks in my life.

"You don't know what you've got till it's gone."

The Hydro Grand was, to me, an essential part of the skyline above Caroline Bay, not forgetting also the provider of some much appreciated amber fluids in my younger days. Now it's bare wasteland.

Gone is the eastern tower topped with a round colonnaded balcony and dome, gone are the recessed balconies, the bay windows, the arches. A wasteland.

"You don't know what you've got till it's gone."

Ashburton Station had some architectural merit too but gone are George Troup's gables, eave brackets, bay windows, latticed windows and ornate valancing, all replaced by characterless commercial premises.

But the memories of the cafeteria bunfight remain, those seven minutes of sandwich, pie, and tea-based frenzy. And steel-strong reinforced cups and saucers you were allowed to take on board with you to leave under your seat on the train (though there were passengers who tried to see if the crockery really was unbreakable by throwing it out the window as the train crossed the Rakaia River bridge).

Now, characterless commercial premises.

Wyn Drabble

"You don't know what you've got till it's gone."

I'm sure nobody would suggest demolishing Mr Troup's ornate railway station in Dunedin. Whatever next! It even earned him the nickname, Gingerbread George.

But his lesser works have merit too. Ōamaru's station appears to be hanging on by the skin of its teeth, partly through housing an out-of-character Asian restaurant.

Invercargill has lost a couple of architectural gems too, both listed as category 2 historic places. Newburgh Building (1928) was a striking four-storey structure on Dee St but in 2020 it suffered the wrecking ball of progress. For development.

The former W Lewis Drapery (1913) was an ornate three-storey block with historical and architectural significance so, of course, it also had to be demolished in 2020. For development.

2020 must have been a bumper year for demolition. In that year, Greymouth's demolition derby saw the end of Revingtons Hotel and Waitaiki House, both listed as category 2 historic places. For development.

"You don't know what you've got till it's gone."

There's also good news. On my southern drive, I detoured to Waimate where I found a derelict building of sufficient architectural/heritage merit to make me pull up the car and take a photograph. That has to survive, I thought, and subsequent research suggests it might.

It started life circa 1907 as a shopping arcade (Quinn's Arcade) but that did not work out so it was converted to a theatre (Arcadia) with a billiard saloon and has had various other lapsed lives. Now its fate is in the hands of a wealthy local.

Thank you, wealthy local. I'm loving your work. One day I hope to see the fixed-up structure.

See, it "don't always (need) to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone".

And anyway, if it does happen, you could always reassemble the bits. Inside a heritage museum.

Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, a writer, musician and public speaker