Fierce advocate for the importance of history
professional life and incredibly meticulous in his research. He was known to have something of a short fuse on a professional level for those guilty of inadequate thinking and sloppy expression.
McLean was born to Joan and Murray McLean in Oamaru in 1957, the older brother of one sister, Deb.
His father worked in the local petrol station as a pump attendant. With his mother a stay-at-home mum, and his father working three out of every four weekends to provide for the family, the young Gavin quickly learned to fall back on his own resources to occupy his time.
Oamaru was a fertile town for many outstanding rugby players, but his interests became diametrically opposed to that culture. His sanctuary was the harbour, where he spent hours fishing and contemplating the history of that waterfront.
Oamaru was reclaiming its lost heritage while McLean was a teenager. The first export of frozen meat to the mother country was loaded on to ships at Sumpter’s wharf from Totara, which was given a makeover for the tourist industry. It was through his early fascination with the buildings he had to bike past to get to the harbour – known affectionately as the ‘‘historic precinct’’ – that his historical curiosity was piqued.
After gaining a BA with honours at Otago University, he moved to Wellington, where he became involved in gay rights and law reform.
In the 1980s he contributed to the editorial and production of the Pink Triangle, a locally produced gay magazine in Wellington.
He spent much time at the Wellington Gay Community Centre, which was also the base for the Wellington Gay Task Force during the homosexual law reform campaign of the early 1980s.
Well-connected politically, and wellversed in Labour Party politics of the time, he became involved in the law reform process itself. He had a good handle on the personalities involved, and was valuable in advising the people who were heading up the gay
reform movement, including Fran Wilde, who was taking legislation through Parliament.
But history was McLean’s great passion in life. For many years he was a key figure in the Professional Historians Association of NZ/ Aotearoa (PHANZA). He was there at the association’s beginning, pushing it into existence.
He curated exhibitions at the National Portrait Gallery, and helped teach museum and heritage studies, as well as architecture students, at Victoria University.
After working for Government Print and the Historic Places Trust, McLean joined the Historical Branch of Internal Affairs as a senior historian in 1999.
He moved across to Manatu¯ Taonga Ministry for Culture and Heritage when it was formed in 2000.
He was hugely productive as a historian, both for the ministry and in his spare time, writing, editing or co-editing more than 50 publications, in addition to numerous journal articles, Te Ara and NZHistory web features, book reviews, and appearances on TV documentaries, including Captain’s Log and Coast.
His publications at the ministry included the best-selling illustrated general history Frontier of Dreams (co-edited with Bronwyn Dalley); the Penguin Book of New Zealanders at War (co-edited with Ian McGibbon and Kynan Gentry); and the Penguin Book of NZ War Writing (co-edited with Harry Ricketts).
He wrote a huge number of books on local history and heritage, shipping and business history, including a history of the Lyall Bay Surf Lifesaving Club.
He had a love of ships, shipping and the seafaring world, particularly in relation to New Zealand’s maritime history.
His deep interest in shipping led him to a decade of summer gigs lecturing local history aboard cruise ships around Australia and the Pacific.
Two years ago he was about to set out on another cruise when he fell and broke his neck. Complications over the ensuing years led to a gradual decline in his health.
Going into medical retirement, he spent more time at his Island Bay home, which offered a remarkable view of Cook Strait and a perfect vantage point from which to observe his beloved ships come and go. – By Bess Manson
Sources: Deb Hill, Michael Kelly, Ian Spicer, Graeme Russell, Ky Gentry, New Zealand Review of Books Pukapuka Aotearoa. Do you know someone who deserves a Life Story? Email obituaries@dompost.co.nz strong person and she lived with Raoul’s suffering every minute, day and night.’’
Wallenberg’s mother and his stepfather, Fredrik von Dardel, repeatedly questioned the Swedish and Russian governments, but to no avail. The former, tainted by its neutrality during the war, sometimes appeared as uninterested as the latter.
In 1979, driven to despair and growing old, her parents committed suicide two days apart. Their wish was that their children keep looking for Raoul until 2000, then stop; Lagergren, however, continued the hunt.
In 1989, at a meeting with KGB officials in Moscow, she was given a wooden box containing Wallenberg’s personal effects, including his diplomatic passport, identity cards and money. Still she believed he was alive, held in isolation, his identity hidden.
She and her brother Guy, a physicist, spent almost 50 years searching for their half-brother, by which time they were barely speaking to one another.
She was born Nina Viveka Maria von Dardel in 1921. She always spoke with delight of Raoul’s talent for mimicry, particularly at family parties during the war years. ‘‘He used to entertain the family with sketches in which he played all the parts,’’ she told The Observer in 1989. One had an Englishman with an Oxford accent, a Scot, a Frenchman and an American arguing with a Nazi officer. ‘‘He acted it so well we were shouting with laughter.’’
In 1943 she married Gunnar Lagergren, a Swedish judge. He died in 2008. They had four children including Nane, who was married to Kofi Annan, the UN secretarygeneral, and another daughter, Mi. They accompanied their mother at public appearances promoting the cause of the missing diplomat.
Wallenberg remained everpresent in Lagergren’s home: there was a bust of him in her hallway; his architectural sketches were in her study; the packet of his belongings handed over in Moscow was stored in her basement.
When Guy died in 2009, Lagergren asked that Wallenberg be officially declared dead. The Swedish government duly published search notices for him and received no new information. On October 31, 2016, the authorities recorded his official date of death as July 31, 1952. Lagergren was by then 95 – and her life’s work complete, although her goal remained unfulfilled. – The Times