We pretended not to see him and slunk into the alley when the next minute there was an almighty bang! We started running but Father Donnelly was a very fit man and sprinted across the road and caught up with us near the drill hall. First he demanded our bag of crackers and the matches, then he gave both of us a couple of swipes on the bum. He then frog-marched both of us back down the alleyway to where a very angry Mr Rickard was trying to salvage the now smouldering ruins of his sandwich board, the paper posters had been blown to pieces and there was small bits of paper all over the footpath. Mr Rickard looked at both of us and shook his head murmuring "bloody kids".

Father Donnelly took us both by our jerseys into the shop and up to the counter where we were then made to apologise to a very cross Mrs Rickard. We then (with very sincere expressions on our faces) apologised to both Mr and Mrs Rickard and immediately shot out of the shop, across Seddon Street and into the flower show where we tried to merge with all of the other Convent kids and look as insignificant as possible.

We were both certain that Father Donnelly was going to inform on us to the Head Nun, but he never did and we were both certain that he would tell our parents about our act of vandalism to Mr Rickard's Truth poster, but again he never did. Thank you Father Donnelly!

Father Donnelly was a real "live wire" in the Parish who got involved with the young people. He formed the local Catholic Youth Movement, he also with the assistance of my own mother, Terry Mischefski and Peter and Mavis McKinney, founded the Waihi branch of the Legion of Mary. There were two Father Donnellys in the district, our own Felix, who was the Curate at Waihi, and also his brother Father Kevin Donnelly who was a resident priest in Te Aroha.

He was an outstanding guy, really hands on and into everything. He had a black (I think), Volks Wagon and with this car he organised youth programs, (table tennis, rock and roll etc), in the parish hall. Swimming trips to the Tauranga bridge water hole, trips to the beach, and I think even bush walks. He was single handedly responsible for the increase in attendance at mass of all of the teenagers in the parish and made us proud of being Catholic. He also gave me back my bag of fireworks after Mass on Christmas Day and declined to tell my mother why he was holding them for me.

At that time in New Zealand history it was considered "correct" to speak English with a cultured "English" accent, however at Waihi Convent a number of words were pronounced differently.The Parish Priest was Irish, all the nuns were Irish and as well many of the senior members of the congregation were Irish, so an Irish pronunciation of a number of words was very common.

In fact the most important day on the Saint Joseph's school calendar after Christmas Day and Easter was Saint Patricks Day and on that day every girl and boy at the school came to school beddecked in green ribbons. We all wished each other "Erin Go Brae" (Ireland Forever), and went to a special mass where we sung "Hail Glorious Saint Patrick, Dear Saint of our Isle, on us thy poor children, bestow a sweet smile�"

The most important places in my early life were the Roman Catholic Church, the Convent School, and as well the Academy Picture Theatre. Followed closely by Tex Richard's book shop and Spearings Stationery both of which also sold lead soldiers. Later as I grew even older, Wally Kingsford's Bike shop gained importance as he sold all sorts of fishing tackle and adventure gear, and as well the hardware shop on the corner of Seddon Street and Moresby Avenue where Mr Asby sold WWII bayonets for seven and sixpence.

But the Academy picture theatre was probably the centre of my entire universe and every Saturday afternoon myself and the rest of Waihi's children would go and watch the movies. It cost 9 pence (about $1 at today's NZ values) to sit in the first three rows which were always snapped up very quickly, and so I think that the Saturday afternoon movies in Waihi were about the only thing in my life I was actually early for.

There was no TV back then, I think TV arrived in the early 1960's and so the pictures were the town's main source of entertainment. The actual building still stands and I can remember the queue for the picture theatre stretching often up to about Wallace Supplies, or even Mrs Jesney's beauty shop, but when the biblical yarn "The Greatest Story Ever Told" came to town, the queue reached right back as far as Clark's the Chemist, on the corner of Seddon Street and Rosemont Road, and not everyone got to see the movie.

At half time the theatre used to play a song which sounded to my young ears as "The Maori Grenadiers." I can only really remember the chorus which went like this:

We can lick the Brooklyn Guards, if they'll only play the cards, and we run like the devil when the ground is level for about 400 yards. And the girls the little dears they're in love up to their ears when they see us coming when they see us running we're the Maori Grenadiers!

(Footnote: This was probably The Bowery Grenadiers a song about rival Hibernian volunteer fire departments in mid-1800s New York. Mike would have heard the popular Mitch Miller version being played. Listen to this short MP3. John Archer)

Rugby was about the only sport that Saint Joseph's took seriously and our coaches were Father Donnelly, Mr Wheeler, Mr McHardy and Mr O'Flaherty. At the same time that the boys were being taught seven-a-side barefoot rugby, the girls were being taught basketball (now called netball) by Mrs Alexander (I think). All of these sports were then put to an annual test of Catholic Schools which was always held at Te Aroha.

On the day of the competition we would all get out our green and black streamers and bedeck two of Mr Richie's buses and then off we would go, and singing all the way. It was one of our big adventures for the year. The other being our school picnic. I don't know how long it took to get to Te Aroha, but the roads back then were a horror story and I had usually thrown up into a brown paper bag by about the middle of the Karangahake Gorge.

I don't think the boys ever won any of the football tournaments that I can remember, we often used to beat Paeroa and a couple of the other schools, but generally Te Aroha was usually too strong, plus they had the advantage of playing on their home ground. Our girls usually did much better and would often win one of the trophies.

Towards the end of the year the nuns organised the school picnic. Often it would be at Waihi Beach but sometimes they went even further afield, including the hot pools at Katikati and also the not so hot pools at Matamata. Great excitement would fill the school on the week of the picnic and all sorts of games and adventures were planned. On the day of the picnic we would once again cram into two of Mr Richie's buses and then off we would all go singing and cheering.

The mothers of the farming kids would often come, Mrs McHardy (I think there were three Mrs McHardy), Mrs Mulhern (I think there were two Mrs Mulherns), Mrs Thompson, Mrs Bicknell, and Mrs Wheeler. They would assist in supervising the kids and as well preparing lunch inside the beach hall. Lunch was usually spagetti and baked bean sandwiches and a large milk can full of cordial. The priests would often come too. I don't know how the nuns coped with the heat on those days. Back then they were shrouded from head to toe in a long black habit, with a white wimple raised above their foreheads. Once again, they would eat behind curtains or in another room.

Going home was always a lot of fun, because by then the sunburn would be just starting to kick in and as well the sand and salt all through our clothing would be starting to irritate tired young bodies. The next several days were often spent in bed with backs, hands and faces covered in Calamine lotion.

Each year the parish organised a bazaar which was usually held in the Memorial Hall. The whole parish got behind this venture and all sorts of hand made items were produced. A number of my mother's non-Catholic friends would also knit things for it as well. One woman, Mrs Mida Langdon used to knit or crochet some absolutely beautiful items which were often raffled. The nuns made fudge, toffee apples and turkish delight. Their turkish delight was the very best I have ever tasted. The bazaars were a wonderful break from school and everyone was guaranteed a bargain.

Sometimes the parish organised a 'Garden Party' which was a huge affair and had all sorts of things on sale. I think there was even a beer tent. Above the din of the crowd boomed Bob Caundle's voice as he was always in charge of the quick-fire raffles. At one of these garden parties my mother took a ticket in a picnic hamper. It was closed and wrapped in cellophane. She later won it and we had so much stuff to carry home that Bert Mischefski took us in his big old car. When my parents got inside and opened the cane hamper, it actually contained about a dozen bottles of various spirits and liquours...there wasn't a plate or cup anywhere! Well naturally enough Bert and my parents sat down and had a 'spot' or two. All three were very unwell the following morning and I don't think that my mother made it to Mass. My mother kept the cane hamper and it served the family for years as a sewing basket.

One day a year we had 'Calf Club' and it gave those kids who had pet calves a chance to bring them to school and compete for ribbons. It was always a lot of fun, because many of the towny kids would adopt a calf and then show it on the day, on some occassions it would turn into a mini rodeo. I think it was Ian McHardy who had the most well trained calf I had ever seen and he won the ribbon in his grade.

I decided to enter one year and adopted my neighbour Mr Ward's hereford calf called 'Matilda'. On the day of the calf club, Mr Bicknell went down and picked up the calf and I somehow or other won two ribbons and a cup, which I still have!!! I must remember to return the cup to Phil Mulhern, it's probably an antique by now.

Apart from the devil, I think that there were only two people on earth that the nuns feared. One was the Archbishop, His Eminence James Michael Liston, and the other one was the school inspector. We were normally made aware that the inspectors were coming perhaps a day or two before their arrival and then the entire school sprung into action. All 108 of us. Windows were washed and then polished with brasso and newspaper, the tennis courts were swept and all rubbish was minutely searched out and burned in the school incinerator (a 44 gallon drum with a hole cut in the bottom).

Even the school milk box was scrubbed sparkling clean and all of the crates refilled and stacked with 144 empty half pint bottles. Back then, each school child was required to drink a half a pint of milk each day, the milk was very creamy and although some of the kids avoided drinking it when they could, I loved it and held the milk drinking record when I was in Form 2; I think it was 4 or 5 bottles without stopping. In winter time we all sat around the rooms 'hot dog' and as the nun boiled up a large saucepan of milk for the class cocoa. These were very happy moments in the morning's activities as that was the time of story telling. The nuns were brilliant story tellers, all of them and if they read a story about pirates, they made the ocean move, the ship creak and the pirates larger than life. It was while waiting for cocoa to heat that Sister Berchmans read me my first "anti-war" story, it was about a Priest in the army during World War I, and was called "Fighting Father Duffy."

Anyway I digress, the Convent Schools were pretty much oppressed in New Zealand back then, receiving no funds whatever from the New Zealand Government and as well, the teaching standards of the nuns, (all women), "must" always be of the same exacting standards of all public schools which were mainly run by men. From memory, all the head teachers of all of the other public schools (apart from all girl schools) were males during the entire time I was at school. So there was tremendous pressure on the nuns not only to perform to the same standards as the public schools, but to even try and excell. In any event as any ex-convent pupil of the period will confirm, an education at a convent school in the 1950/60's generally put a pupil light years ahead of his public school companions in arithmetic, english, reading, writing and singing.

The school inspectors were always middle aged, faceless, grey suits that came into the classroom in the morning and sat at the back for about an hour. Prior to their arrival each nun made it crystal clear to every child in the class that if they were not on their very best behaviour, certain swift and terrible retribution would surely follow the very instant the inspector closed the door on completion of his visit.

The inspector would request a couple of books to check and so naturally the nun would rattle off the names of six students, all of whom she already knew had spotless neat handwriting with dozens of stamps of "The Sacred Heart" for good work on their pages.

These would be checked and the inspector would generally be gone before the tolling of the "Angelus" on the school bell just before lunch time "The Angel of the Lord appeared unto Mary -"

Whenever Bishop Liston was coming there was always the added chores of getting Saint Joseph's Church knocked into shape. The church was an old wooden structure with rows of wooden pews that generations of Catholic boys and my sister Leonie had carved their initials into during our many trips to the church for Mass, Benedition or choir practice. The building had a very warm community feel about it but it was well past its "use-by" date and was beginning to look more than a little tired. It was actually strengthened by a series of steel rods that were attached to either side at about the same level as the choir loft.

We always hoped that Bishop Liston would arrive on a Thursday. Once he arrived, usually in a large dark coloured 1930's V8 sedan, we would be formed up by our classes at the sweet pea trellis between the school and the nuns' two story barracks. We would then get inspected by the head nun, pure white hankies with small red crosses on them would appear from black sleeves, nuns would spit onto them and grubby Catholic children's faces would be wiped clean. Socks and stockings would be pulled up, green girdles adjusted, black and green ties straightened and hair brushed out of children's eyes. Once the head nun was finally happy, the nuns would draw their veils forward to cover their faces and we would march in pairs, along the concrete path, past the convent and into the front door of the church where we would usually sit close to the organ which was always played by Sister Mary Koska.

After the service was over we generally made our own way out of the church, a row at a time, moving to the central isle, reverently genuflecting, and quietly walking outside. His Eminence, Archbishop Liston, an elderly gentleman with a very kindly face would be outside chatting to various parishioners and we would then all line up and shake hands with him, turning his right palm upwards and kissing a huge jewelled ring that his Emmence wore. By now the nuns would be quietly lurking in the background keeping a very discreet but watchful eye on our behaviour. Then one of the nuns would quietly suggest to us that we might like to ask the Archbishop for a day off school.

Archbishop Liston was a real pushover for kids and I think that he gave us a day off school every single time he ever visited Waihi, and if he came on a Thursday we generally got the rest of Thursday and Friday off. The nuns, would then get a very well earned day off as well, and whereas most folks relax on Saturday and Sunday, these days were busiest days in the week for the nuns, where they did all of the husbandry on the convent on the Saturday, and then attended a number of devotional services on the Sunday so a day off from the Bishop was appreciated by them as well. After Bishop Liston came Bishop Delargy, and I remember that he only ever gave a half a day off so he wasn't as popular as his predecessor.

The circus usually came to town about three times a year. Sometimes a Grand Parade would take place up Seddon Street, and sometimes the full circus would be unloaded from the railway station and would then move slowly in convoy along Union Street, heading in the direction of the 'Rec' (now called Morgan Park).

Circuses back then were huge affairs boasting elephants, giraffes, lions, tigers, horses, and monkeys by the dozen. If ever they passed by Saint Joseph's everyone would pour outside of the class rooms and watch in awe as the circus came to town. Usually the elephants would be ridden or led by their trainers, and sometimes there would even be clowns. And then, as soon as school had ended we would tear down on bicycles to the Rec and stare in wonder at these strange animals from the other side of the world.

Waiting for a procession down Seddon Street at Waihi. However this was not a circus, but the 1962 Diamond Jubilee celebration.

The last Maori parishioner in Waihi to wear a moko was old Mrs Richards, Danny Richards grandmother. Danny had been whangaied (Maori adoption) back to his grandmother and as a kid he was always up to various pranks. I don't think she was on the phone because she often had to come to school and discuss Danny's education with one or another of the nuns.

Whenever she came to the school the older girls would study her from a distance. This very elderly Maori woman, who was dressed all in black and wore greenstone ornaments and a dark blue chin moko. She was the last of her generation.