The old Hastings bank that sucked up money
The slow disintegration of a stately Hastings lodge is seemingly not for a lack of investment in it, writes Marty Sharpe.
There’s a reason the old, ramshackle Willowpark Lodge in Hastings looks out of place. Because it is. The two-storey, worse-forwear boarding house was moved to its present site 104 years ago, having spent 30 years as the Union Bank of Australia – one of the grandest and most stately buildings in the city’s centre.
It was clearly once quite regal but lost its lustre long ago and for the past few decades, its slow disintegration has been witnessed daily by those making the commute to work.
The transient nature of the building is matched by its occupants. For as long as records show, the building has been a boarding house providing temporary accommodation, short and long term, to many.
It’s the sort of building that cries out for attention and further investigation.
A visit to the premises by Stuff did not yield much. Tenants were unwilling to talk; several suggested trying the manager’s room.
I knocked on the door. A woman answered but closed the door before I’d finished my opening line.
I contacted the owner. Since 2002, it’s been owned by PRM Investments Ltd. The company’s sole director and shareholder, Philip McLean, lives in Taradale. He was thoroughly disinterested in discussing the building, its past or future.
So a scour of records and books elicited the following, for those who may be interested.
Built in 1884, it’s a classic example of colonial architecture in that it was constructed of wood but designed to look like stone.
An early newspaper report on the newly finished bank spoke of ‘‘fancy wood, polish and plate glass’’, and the building being ‘‘furnished with handsome counters and desks of kauri, as polished as the urbane manager and his staff’’.
Early last century, the bank replaced its premises with a brick building and the original was split into two pieces and transported by steam traction engine to its present location.
Its early days remain a bit of a mystery but it seems it has been a boarding house since the 1940s, when it was known as De Villa Flats.
No records could be found of former residents other than one Whiti Mane, a member of the 28th Ma¯ ori Battalion. He went to war in 1940 as a sergeant, leaving his wife (recorded only as ‘E’) at home in the flats.
Sometime in the 1940s, the building was purchased by the Zelcer family. By that stage, the first signs of age were showing.
The first record of concern around the state of the building came in 1968, when the Fire Service said it held safety concerns for the occupants.
In a letter to the ‘‘Estate of Molly Zelcer’’ in 1977, Hastings chief health inspector spelled out his concerns around ‘‘complete noncompliance’’ when it came to fire safety and ‘‘the generally poor state of cleanliness and repair of these flats’’.
Molly’s children sold the building to a group of local people in 1978. It was owned by Trade Inn Auto Court Ltd from 1981 until May 1990 when local newspaper subeditor Ray Maultsaid bought it.
Sometime in the past 40 years, a row of smaller flats was built on the 1150 square-metre property around two sides of the building, bringing the total number of units to 24.
The next 25 years followed a similar theme, with regular correspondence from the council and Fire Service to the building’s owners, expressing various levels of concern around the dangers posed to tenants.
Some of these missives got quite heated, particularly in 1996, when a council officer discovered repair work on a fire escape to the top floor had not been done – despite the council telling Maultsaid to do it five years earlier.
The fire escapes were now very unstable, rotting, and coming loose from the walls.
In a hand-written note among the council’s records, an unnamed officer said that Maultsaid did not seem to know what a building warrant of fitness was and ‘‘his thoughts were it was a load of rubbish’’.
In mid-1996, Maultsaid was told the council had been requiring improvements at the building since 1985 and ‘‘the situation endangering lives cannot be allowed to continue any longer’’.
In response, Maultsaid wrote the council’s danger assertion was ‘‘absolute rubbish’’ then, over two pages, he outlined the work he had done, saying he had spent ‘‘more than $150,000’’ on the place and reminding officials ‘‘I know it was a headache to the council before I bought it’’.
He said the tenants looked out for each other and were quick to act; ‘‘for instance, when someone has left their dinner on the stove’’. He added that no property owner should be expected to allow for an arson attack nor could they be expected to sit next to the fire doors 24 hours a day.
‘‘So can we forget about calling Willowpark Lodge dangerous?’’ he wrote.
It seemed the council couldn’t, and it was classified as a dangerous building. Matters deteriorated further. The council wanted the top floor vacated. Maultsaid refused to do that, and lawyers were called in.
In late 2001, Maultsaid sent the council a fax containing ‘‘various irrelevant threats and complaints’’.
He had, by that stage, apparently relented to the council’s demand that no-one should be living in the upstairs part of the building until the fire escapes had been fixed.
By that stage, it must have become too much for Maultsaid. He sold the building to PRM Investments in November 2001 for $360,000.
A few months into his ownership, McLean also started getting letters from the council asking him to fix the fire safety issues, specifically around evacuation plans, alarms and smoke stops. This went on for a few months.
When the council discovered, two of the four upstairs rooms were occupied, things got worse. The Fire Service, initially semiplacated by ‘‘interim measures’’ McLean had put in place, informed the council in December 2002 that it believed there were people staying upstairs and it could no longer agree with the interim measures.
The lawyers returned and the matter ended up in Hastings District Court, where on July 1, 2003, Judge Geoff Rea told PRM to ensure no-one stayed on the top floor until further order of the court, that the fire safety work be carried out and that a building consent be applied for.
That work was carried out and, some 14 years later, the building is meeting all council requirements.
Today the property, which has a council valuation of $720,000, looks much as it has for decades.
The top floor remains unoccupied, with up to 10 people allowed to live downstairs, and an unknown number in the surrounding units.
Local historian Michael Fowler said it was one of the city’s oldest buildings and very important ‘‘from a heritage point of view’’.
‘‘Like the old Albert Hotel [built in 1882 and demolished in 2014], it was left to go into disrepair and it’s a shame it hasn’t been better looked after,’’ he said.
‘‘The city has very, very few buildings left of that age.’’
The building’s future is uncertain. Like much of its past, really.
Its early days remain a bit of a mystery but it seems it has been a boarding house since the 1940s, when it was known as the De Villa Flats.