ART DECO AND CARS IN NAPIER
JACQUI GOES ALL ‘30S ON US
There’s a bit of something for everyone at Napier’s Art Deco Festival — whether you like architecture, costume, cars, or just a jolly good knees up, you’re guaranteed to have a good time. But there don’t seem to be that many who own both a period car and some period clothes; packing to manage spares and oil, plus stockings and silks — without accidentally combining the two — can be tricky.
Oops
At Phillip Island in Australia this year, my beloved thoughtfully hurled himself down on the tarmac on corner one of the annual International Island Classic motorcycle event and was left unable to passenger in a 1930 Austin 7 tourer (aka ‘Chummy’) in anything approaching comfort, or, indeed, in anything else. Nor could he be left alone for too long. However, rather than cancel, he urged me to fly to the Art Deco Festival, and thus it was that I arrived in Napier without a single spanner to my name.
Warbirds to the rescue
Fortunately, I’d entered the Napier Vintage Car Club (VCC) rally organized by the Hawke’s Bay branch, and had enough friends who had also entered to be able to get a ride, which is how I arrived at the clubrooms bright and early on Friday morning in the navigator seat of a 1918 Packard that can usually be found parked at Wanaka’s Warbirds and Wheels Museum.
The Packard’s driver, Robert Duncan, is allergic to dressing up, though he cut a fine figure in the parade in a beautiful gangster-striped three-piece suit. I was suitably clad for the 1930s, if not for navigating in a car like this. No sooner had we started off — with Phil Dunstan in a 1916 Locomobile, Mike Hanning in a 1935 Buick, Peter Tally in a 1926 Packard, and Allan Dippie in the gorgeous blue Victoria Packard following my directions rather than relying on their own passengers (no pressure, then) — than my hat blew off, nearly taking my head with it. Firmly affixing Robert’s waxed canvas workaday item and with the chinstrap pulled tourniquet-tight — stacking hats isn’t a pretty sight, but it worked — we were soon on our way, after successfully applying the Packard’s 12-cylinder engine to beat the Locomobile to a drag start.
The route took in delightful loops of the local countryside — the route-setter having done a fabulous job of finding apparently deserted roads — to our picnic-lunch stop, the 1908 house of a local car collector, recently rebuilt to the original plans after a couple of fires. There, we met the veterans and others who’d chosen alternative route options.
Tea on the lawn, or what
Forget hampers and tablecloths; Robert and I are made of sterner stuff, and downed our sarnies double-quick to spend time amid the Rollers and Bugattis, Astons and Land Rovers out back, several of which we’d see the next day in the parade.
Lesson of the day: it’s hard for two folk to manage two
take-away cups, a map and pen, manual gear change, and a two-ton car without power steering. Prepare for spills.
Quite a sight
All sorts of activities go on in Napier on festival Friday — indeed, walking tours of the art-deco buildings, including interiors, and Charleston dance nights had begun the day before. We headed back to base for an early night; we needed a good rest, as Saturday, parade day, would start bright and early.
The day began with time spent admiring the chain-driven one-ton 1914 Stewart truck with its twin-cylinder, horizontally opposed, transverse motor, brought up as part of a fleet from Bill Richardson Transport World in Invercargill.
Each year, there’s a hero marque, and, for 2020, it’s Bugatti. But, this year, the theme was commercial vehicles, and, among the flappers and dandies, there were plenty of overalls, boots, and bicycles, with delivery baskets affixed, weaving between the pickup trucks.
The 35 pre–world War II commercials in the parade were under three tons and less than 4m long due to the route’s tight turns — notwithstanding said turns, a vintage bus also plied the waterfront between the traction engines and trailers, and the fleets of pre-war cars. The town centre is closed to modern vehicles for the duration.
The parade itself is fabulous — the streets are lined with onlookers as the 300 pre-war cars crawl past, laden with owners and friends plus VIPS, interspersed with period motorbikes and bicycles. In theory, I was to remain aboard the Packard; in practice, I was evicted to make room for the Prime Minister and her bodyguard, who replaced me alongside Robert, resplendent in his pinstripes.
The parade itself is fabulous — the streets are lined with onlookers as the 300 pre-war cars crawl past, laden with owners and friends plus VIPS, interspersed with period motorbikes and bicycles.
Quite a parade
The mouthwatering line-up that followed the bagpipe band included everything from a maharaja’s limo to a humble Austin 7 van, Phil Henley’s 1906 Cadillac Model K runabout, and Brian Stevenson’s 1935 Auburn, and almost everything in between. Part way along, the door of Bruce Bixley’s 1929 Studebaker President Regal opened and his dad Doug, who was driving, waved me aboard to take up the free seventh seat.
“How did she manage that?” asked the bystanders I left behind.
Quite an event
The parade ends for the featured marque at the Napier Soundshell, with the others parking up and down the waterfront or in front of the Art Deco Masonic Hotel. Several of us took tea in the damask-lined green room of the hotel before re-entering streets packed with fabulously dressed crowds, strolling or watching buskers performing with period props, sipping tea or eating ice creams. A fashion parade of genuine vintage or retro garments — including the maker of my Saturday outfit, Mintage — walked to the tune of a jazz band. The most notable segment was from a group of Māori in the clothes their ancestors would have worn, including one 93-yearold kuia escorted by two great-grandsons dressed in her late husband’s vintage suits.
Quite a night
By evening, picnic tables had come out, gleaming with glass and flatware laid out on white tablecloths, accessorized with diners in evening dress, watching and being watched by the passing parade. Saturday’s lesson was to charge the camera and empty the memory card nightly.
Yet again, I passed up the ticketed evening events in favour of some sleep, ready for Sunday morning’s optional hot breakfast at the VCC clubrooms, then into Napier to watch the traditional kart racing and the Gatsby Picnic, with its prize for the most stylish set-up.
Gazebos covered vintage picnic ware, antique turntables and cloths, with the cars parked between them glittering in the bright sun, which sparkled on the sea behind.
By this point, there was still a public fashion show to come, but some folk were already packing up for the day. The Packard was in its trailer ready for the trip back south as I headed for the airport — still without a spanner and more determined than ever to make it next year aboard one of my period Austin 7s.
Cars and people from many eras were on display. Brass era alongside genuine art deco era cars and on through to the late 30s cars offered great viewing to any enthusiast.