Invercargill department store doomed for demolishment gets last hoorah
Friday, 26 July 2019
In its heyday D.I.C was a handsome store of high-fashion and household merchandise steeped in history. Reporter JO MCKENZIE-MCLEAN took a final tour of the now dilapidated store earmarked for demolition as part of the inner city mall project.
An empty KFC box and a few deflated balloons sit in the dirty display window. Lift your gaze, and hardly noticeable under the grime is a decorative leadlight panel - a hint of the history behind the locked double doors above which the bold letters D.I.C once beamed proudly out.
The large room is dark, abandoned and littered with bits of building rubble and rubbish left behind from a previous retailer. There is little sign of the once bustling old department store. At the back of the room my heart skips a beats with a nostalgic flutter. The D.I.C lift.
I was not sure what would remain of that old department store building. As a young girl I remember running through the lino isles, passed a climbing staircase, making a beeline straight towards the elevator. As the heavy doors would open, customers would be greeted by a woman sitting on a stool by the controls. With knees together and crooked hand sat Ngaire McIntyre. 'Stand back' she would say before asking which floor you wanted, taking the privileged position of pushing the elevator buttons.
Throughout the store, characters resembling that from the British sitcom, Are You Being Served, was more true to life than you could imagine, former store manager Ross McKenzie said.
'We had department heads just like, we had characters like that.'
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Undoubtedly, the most famous D.I.C personality was Ngaire.
D.I.C had given her a job 'in kind'. She was a member of the Crippled Children's Society and had a twisted hand and walked dragging her turned in foot. As a careful and caring lift operator, she was the eyes and ears of the store, he said.
'She was very valuable to me … she would be able to tell me what was happening on a daily basis. I would tell her about a sale, and I wouldn't have to run a full time add because she would tell everyone.'
Former manchester buyer Dave Keen, 88, who joined D.I.C in 1967, also remembers Ngaire with affection.
'She was a loved character. She knew customers and they knew her. Thinking back, she really added something to the store. She really did.'
Another loved character was Santa. D.I.C was famous for the Santa's Grotto. My brother and I were two of the thousands of Southland children who will have yearly pictures taken with Santa.
'Santa was an incredible deal,' Keen said.
'We always had a Santa's Grotto every year and thousands of kids would come in and tell Santa everything.'
Stepping back into history
Stepping into the lift was like stepping into time capsule - or carpeted coffin. The same grey patterned carpet my uncle had lined the elevator with all those decades ago was still there. To my surprise the elevator worked and it lurched us in darkness to the second floor.
The second floor would carry customers to more displays, and the popular Tiffanys Cafe, formerly the Rosewood Coffee Lounge. Tiffanys was a place where people would dress up and socialise. Some would sit around tables that overlooked Tay St, while others sat around the curved cane bar, drinking coffee and discussing business.
People would queue in a line choosing food from the bain marie counter.
'Tea, coffee and milkshakes were pretty popular,' McKenzie said.
'When the renovations were done Auckland head office tried to fancy-up the menu with filo stuff but it didn't work and we had to fight like hell to get the pies back.'
Friday night meals were particularly popular with shoppers, and the Southland cheese rolls and lamingtons were of course a favourite.
An old dust-coated Tiffanys sign was lying discarded on the original counter. The same pastel pink walls I remembered as a child in the 80s coloured the walls and same tassled lights dropped from the ceiling. A ripped piece of wall gib revealed a hidden wall with a burgundy coloured paper with ornate gold pattern revealing ghosts of the building's past.
On the third floor were the offices. The room was stripped bare - even the doors were gone. At the back a locked James Gibbons London Wolverhampton strong room remained stoically in position.
The last stop is where McKenzie started his career at the D.I.C at the back of the building, through a dingy corridor, where the display workroom and dispatch was located.
The display room now resembles a squatter's concrete bunker.
Very little visible heritage fabric remains of the building that was in its heyday one of the most handsome and immaculate in town.
Heritage data of the site
The site, known as Town Section 15 in project reports, had a long association with the drapery trade. In 1857, the site was purchased by John Blacklock. Herbert Haynes and Co opened in 1885 having already established in Dunedin in 1861. Daniel Haynes was the sole proprietor since 1872 and the Invercargill store flourished, undergoing dozens of alterations and extensions to improve design and modernise its showrooms. One notable improvement was to the store's street frontage in 1893, with the addition of a verandah along full length of the premises, including Bailey's chemist shop.
According to the New Zealand Heritage Properties report, commissioned by HWPC who is behind the mall project, this verandah is the only surviving pre-1900 example on the block.
One of the biggest shop extension projects was carried out in 1935 when they added an Art Deco-style second storey to the building. To reach the new showrooms a 'modern type of lift' was installed and an up-to-date staircase encircled it. The tearooms were also redecorated.
A Southland Times article at the time described the renovation as 'the biggest single shop extension projects ever carried out in Invercargill'.
Extensions, renovations and investment continued when DIC took over the site in 1959. The DIC was in its 75th year when it looked south to expand business having already established itself in Dunedin in 1884, and other major centres including Christchurch and Wellington.
It was a company with a proud history, progressive thinking and profitability. By 1968 it had 10 stores in the chain, turnover was approaching $12m, it had 4900 shareholders and a staff of 1300.
Bendix Hallenstein, a shrewd businessman, who was born in Germany and came to New Zealand in 1863 at 28, founded the company. He was the mayor of Queenstown for three successive terms and a Member of Parliament which he abandoned for his entrepreneurial endeavours.
The company began its life as an open warehouse and flipped shopping traditions on their head.
Dunedin journalist Gordon Parry, who wrote a history of the DIC for its centenary, described how customers were encouraged to walk about and see what was on offer.
'Shopping at that time was hedged about with the conventions typical of the Victorian era. Customers did not poke about among the merchandise.'
'Milady' would instead sweep into a store, approach a counter, was given a seat by a hovering floorwalker and asked what she would like to have shown to her, Parry recounted.
DIC moved with the times during the years, and began to attract wealthier customers and turned its attention to using display windows and lighting to attract the attention of passersby. They were also innovative. The Wellington store had the country's first escalator installed in 1929 and a real novelty was the introduction in 1898 of the country's first cash railway system. It was a way of transferring money between counters and cashiers with a network of overhead wires that led to the cashiers box. Along them small wooden boxes were propelled.
Bales of cotton and flannelette sheets
The department store had come a long way by the time it opened in Invercargill - but some old-fashioned practises might surprise some readers.
Keen fondly remembers bales of cotton and flannelette sheets arriving at the Bluff Port for the store. The bales were delivered to a Mrs Clarke who would rip them to length, then hem and fold them.
'We would take the leftover scraps and cut them into three inch by one inch pieces and staple to card with prices and post to every customer. We had thousands of customers and it was a huge job but because in those days we were a happy crew, everyone helped.'
During a major redevelopment in the 80s, staff pitched in and got down on hands and knees to help rip up carpet and lino while builders working on the top floor, he said.
'It wasn't out job but we had a hell of a lot of fun doing it. We had our own cricket team, soccer, netball and volleyball teams. Because the crew worked together so well and blended so well we were able to do those things. I can't but help those are days gone by.'
Staff were loyal, and so were the customers, he said.
'When I was away on buying trips, often I would think, 'that piece would appeal to so and so'. I would ring them up and ask if they wanted to look. Eventually, it got to a point they would say, 'charge it up and send it out', because I knew what they wanted.'
Another popular business was sending stock to Stewart Island via the office lady.
'Mrs Trail worked in the office but came from Stewart Island. People on the island would ring her up and she would go around the shop and get their purchases and send it over on the boat to Stewart Island.'
Like many who had gone before him, store manager Ross McKenzie started his D.I.C career as an 18-year-old in the display room. He worked his way up to positions such as store trainer, buyer, assistant manager then store manager.
The DIC was very much a place of hierarchy, working your way up the ranks and demarcation - God forbid departments crossed with each other.
'When we had a lingerie and corserie department there was almost like an invisible line on the carpet. You didn't put your stock over my line, and I didn't mine over yours. If you did encroach on my territory all hell would break loose. I would have knocks on the door, 'someone has put their fixture on my side' . .. in those days the cash registers only took the segmentation you were selling. If you were selling slippers you couldn't put towels through that register. There was very much department protection.'
There were also no alarms or security 'in those days', McKenzie said.
'There was no banking as such, we had to take the money in a suitcase to the bank. This was done on a daily basis. The suitcase was strapped to someone's hand…and it was carried to the bank. This was done also done on Christmas Eve with thousands and thousands of dollars in a little brown suitcase. It was absolutely incredible.'
After a warning from police someone's wrist could come off in a robbery, they dispensed with the strap and just carried the bag, he said.
Saying a final goodbye to DIC
As the old lift clunks back down to the ground floor, it's with a heavy heart and tear in my eye I step out, knowing it will be the last time I am in that lift. The emotional connection so many people through time have had to the building, from the DIC days, to Herbert Haynes & Co is deep. It's not just a building, it's history.
But, as Keen points out, while in its heyday it was one of the buildings in town - everyone knew where it was and what it stood for, times change.
'If a building doesn't serve a purpose, it's time to go.'
That building has served Invercargill well. I'm sure the likes of Daniel Haynes and Bendix Hallenstein would be horrified at the state of not just the building, but the block that has seen a gradual decline in occupancy rates and deterioration of its heritage buildings.
The Invercargill Central redevelopment will extend across the entire city block. Twenty-three buildings in total will be knocked down. Developers say the project will bring in hundreds of jobs, as well as an additional 1500 people into the CBD daily.
Invercargill has lost its heart, and the Invercargill Central project wants to give it back.