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Eastern Southland in the early part of this century belonged to the bush and the bush folk. The valleys echoed with the sound of steam-haulers, the ring of saws and the curses of the bushmen.
Art Hibbs grew up with the smell of fresh-cut timber in the milling settlement of Tahakopa. The settlement at the base of the MacLennon Range boasted a working population of 1500 within a radius of two miles, across thirteen mills.
Hibbs describes the poor quality of mill houses and how people washed in the creek. He explains life was simple, and you didn’t miss what you didn’t know you didn’t have. Once they borrowed a wireless for a week, however the crackle and static interference ruined listening to programmes. Newspapers were few and far between.
Boxing with bare fists was popular he says, as was the two-day sports meetings which involved side show competitions in shearing, wood chopping, sawing, running, long and high jump and shot put. Hibbs describes an accident in which his uncle was killed by a falling tree and a labourer who was killed as he tossed his own still lit match too near gunpowder explosives set up for stump extermination.
Hibbs acknowledges the work and life was rough and tough, and says he even knew a girl whose family, including three children, lived a bleak, cold existence growing up in a tent. In winter, he explains Takahopa would only get an hour and a half of sunlight per day and it was difficult to get rid of the ice.
Hibbs talks about draft horses, the train and general lack of access to the settlement. He recounts an incident when aged five he and his brother were caught eating berries his mother thought poisonous and the acute worry that caused since finding a doctor would have proven very difficult.
Hibbs explains he left Takahopa bush for the first time aged ten years old and discovered magic in all the things others took for granted like the cinema, motor cars and trams. His family moved a couple of times with mill work and he ended up joining his father once he’d finished school in the business.
He recalls a story about ‘Charlie’ who won a bet for having the longest hair and whiskers and made home brew with his winnings. The influence of the alcohol heightened his jealousy of a boarder in his house and through no one was killed ended with him shooting off his gun.
Hibbs says homebrew was readily made in the years of the depression, although alcohol was supposed to be signed for and consigned. He recalls a story about the homebrew of {Ru} Adams, the station master, whose brew was strained through a singlet and whose sock was found in the bottom of his keg. Hibbs admits in those days, “… they’d drink just about anything”.
Once after hurting his eye at the timber mill, he had to stop work. However once he’d consumed a large glass of Hokonui whiskey for the pain and discomfort, he "was good to get back to work". Hibbs stopped working at the mill when he turned 69 years of age but still lives at Riverton and makes whiskey.