Down and out on Main Street
As banks, supermarkets and community police bases disappear, can the Kiwi small-town heartland survive? Nikki MacDonald reports.
Alady in white approaches. ‘‘Someone said to me the other day they saw a policeman in uniform in Waikanae. Where would he come from? I’m in and around here and I have never seen one.’’
Russell Feist is still wearing his police volunteer badge, but he can’t help. The community police base behind him has been closed since April, when an attack on a volunteer in Auckland shut down volunteer-manned bases around the country.
This month, Waikanae became the first community to be told its base would not reopen. Feist can no longer tell you the whereabouts of community constable Brett Polglase – the rosters the 22 volunteers used to keep track of his movements are long gone, stripped out in preparation for the women’s clothing shop replacing it.
Gone, too, are the firearms licence forms carefully stapled together to prevent time-wasting visits to the constable with only one of three forms completed; the troves of bagged and logged lost property and the community comfort that comes with seeing the blue chevrons tracking across a police sign.
‘‘To me it is the hub of community, where people go when they have a problem,’’ says Alison Vautier, who has run the pop-in centre a couple of doors up for 21 years. She still sees police about once a day, but felt safer with a physical place to go.
Across the mall from the empty police base are two more empty shops. One – a former cafe – is papered over with newspapers.
Around the corner is the bank that Westpac confirmed this week it would close, along with 18 other branches around the country. And out on the main road, the Waikanae Hotel has been reduced to rubble, to make way for extra parking for train commuters to Wellington, an hour’s journey away.
You’d think Waikanae and the other towns and suburbs around the country losing banks, post shops, police bases and other High St staples were all dying. You’d be wrong.
With the rash of ANZ and Westpac closures, some communities are losing their last commercial bank branch. Fairlie, Milton and Ranfurly in the south, Ngaruawahia in the north.
It’s a sign of the times, the banks say. More than 85 per cent of banking is now done outside branches.
The losses will particularly hit the elderly as many don’t drive or use internet banking. With patchy internet and cellphone coverage, rural areas will be worst-affected.
Grey Power president Tom O’Connor is appalled at banks putting ‘‘obscene profits’’ before people. The closures, combined with dwindling other community amenities such as Post Shops and community policing, could prove the death-knell for small communities, he says.
‘‘Cost-cutting and the march of modern technology is leaving too many people behind.’’
In previous generations, post offices were community hubs. But they’re also disappearing. There are now 883 post centres, compared with 992 in 2006. But many of those remaining have been farmed out to local businesses.
And when the banks go, it’s another reason to bypass local shopping areas, making life more difficult for remaining businesses. But it’s not for want of potential customers.
At 10am on a Tuesday, Waikanae is humming. A busker strums Neil Diamond numbers as young mums push strollers and oldies push zimmer frames.
Waikanae’s population is growing, and that should continue. The same is true for other areas losing key facilities. So is technology killing community centres?
At the hot bread shop next to the closed police base, Erin Potter is pulling chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.
With the Westpac closing she will have to drive to Paraparaumu to pay the bills she can’t pay online. With two small kids, both partners working long shifts six days a week at the bakery and insane traffic, she doesn’t know where she’ll find the time.
Customers are also upset about the police base closing.
Just along from Westpac, Westbury Pharmacy owner James Westbury is livid about both closures.
‘‘It almost undermines business confidence in here, that this is not a growth area. It’s death by a thousand cuts.’’
Police coverage seems to have progressively reduced, and shop theft has increased. While he understands police need to change how they work, just having a police sign in town provides comfort and a deterrent.
George McPeak edges up to the Westpac ATM. The 86-year-old is slow and shaky but independent. He still drives and has accounts at other banks. Westpac’s closure will be inconvenient, but not the end of the world.
Others are less lucky. And in other towns, there are no remaining banks to switch to.
Once a State Highway 1 pitstop, Ngaruawahia is having to reinvent itself following the 2013 highway bypass.
The town was already smarting following the loss of two banks since 2014 and a May slagging by broadcaster Heather du PlessisAllan, who called it ‘‘rotting’’. So ANZ’s decision this month to close its Ngaruawahia branch was just another blow.
RSA manager Wendy Diamond had just switched her business banking to ANZ, after Westpac left town in 2014, so she could bank daily.
At least Diamond can drive 10 minutes to Huntly or The Base – her mother is elderly and doesn’t drive. She, too, had switched from Westpac. ‘‘It feels like we have been abandoned.’’
Anne Ramsay at the town’s community house is also incensed, having switched to ANZ from Westpac. The town still has a credit union, but they don’t do business banking.
‘‘They are doing the superfriendly ‘we care’, blah, blah, blah and then they show absolutely no social responsibility whatsoever.’’
Westpac and ANZ are promising to leave behind ATMs and computers at libraries for internet banking. Ramsay laughs at the idea 92-year-olds will learn internet banking and do it in public. And what if they forget to log off? And getting cash out at an ATM in the BP station – ‘‘well, they were held up two weeks ago.’’ Despite the dilapidated state houses and paint peeling off main street shops, Ngaruawahia is also growing. It’s becoming a refuge from Auckland and Hamilton’s soaring property prices. But high school principal Chris Jarnet worries about local businesses. While his roll has increased by 44 per cent since 2013, the town is largely becoming a dormitory suburb – new residents return only to sleep. And if elderly locals have to go elsewhere to do their banking, they’ll probably get their hair cut and shop elsewhere too. Kiri Morgan, of Radio Tainui, says the closure of two banks in two years has hit both businesses and the elderly. ‘‘Although we have towns on either side of Ngaruawahia, which aren’t too far away, a lot of people are really stuck by transport, so it has had a major effect on our town. But, in saying that, our town is very resourceful, so we will make do.’’ Ramsay is also upset at the loss of community police, following a 2015 rejig of Waikato policing. Police said Ngaruawahia and Huntly services would merge to provide 24/7 cover. However, no-one seems to know exactly what that means, including the Ngaruawahia community. A police source at the time said Ngaruawahia would become a ‘‘ghost station’’. Asked for clarification, police say the station is ‘‘open’’ and police are available 24/7. So I call the station. It rings and rings and I’m put through to Hamilton. I ask about opening hours. I’m transferred to the communications centre. It’s open from 8am to 4pm, Monday to Friday – shall I put you through, the operator says. It’s 2.30pm on a Thursday. She puts me through. It rings and rings. Back to Hamilton. I explain I’m trying to reach Ngaruawahia. The lady laughs.
‘‘It’s a bit patchy and irregular at the moment. There never seems to be anyone there these days. We act as their reception. We should be able to help you.’’
Chris Jarnet was worried the policing changes would affect his youth aid relationships. However, a Huntly-based police liaison officer still spends significant time in Ngaruawahia.
But Ramsay reckons the only time she sees a cop is in a car, usually chasing another car. Gone are the days when you knew the community constable’s name and saw him getting the mail or lunch. Now she knows only one cop who comes there – Kevin. He’s from Raglan.
‘‘Getting a policeman – rather than go to the police station or try and ring, you’d probably be better to lie in the middle of the road and pretend you’d been run over. Someone will call 111 and get you a policeman.
‘‘People want their communities to feel safe. Having active policing in the community gives you a sense of it being safe, and we don’t have that.’’
Finding out exactly which police stations are closed, and how stations are staffed, is near impossible.
After a week of asking, police finally released a list of the 23 kiosks and bases temporarily closed as a result of concerns about volunteer safety. Most are in the Wellington and Auckland regions. Only they’re not actually closed, police say – you can still go there if there’s an officer present.
Then there’s another tranche of stations operating reduced hours. But police can’t say how many, or where, or what hours they’re operating. Which means the numbers of ‘‘open’’ stations are essentially meaningless, as many could be ‘‘ghost stations’’, like Ngaruawahia’s.
Greytown’s station doesn’t appear on any list but has been ‘‘effectively closed’’ to the public since 2014.
Karori isn’t listed either, but its cop shop is now a copy shop. The community base has been replaced by a three-hour weekly kiosk at the community centre. Councillor Andy Foster says the service had been progressively downgraded, from two community constables, to one. Now they have a one quarter-relationship with four different cops who staff Wellington’s northwestern suburbs.
Clive has lost its community constable and base.
Nonetheless, acting deputy commissioner Allan Boreham says police have never been more visible and available. Police numbers have increased not fallen, so those officers are still out there, and they still have community links.
The force’s 350-plus stations have not fluctuated significantly in number and there’s as likely to be a small increase as a small decrease in the future, he says. Fairfax investigations revealed 30 stations closed nationwide between 2009 and April 2015.
Investments in mobile technology allow police to do on the road many tasks they used to have to return to base for, freeing up the equivalent of 300 staff, Boreham says.
‘‘There’s not a lot of crime happening inside our police stations. It’s not where we want to be. We want to be out in the community, keeping the community safe.’’
He won’t say whether any of the 23 temporarily closed bases will reopen, with volunteers. They might, if local commanders can make them safe. The cost of a safety refit of the Waikanae office was estimated at $15,000 to $25,000.
Another 105 small stations identified as a high safety risk are being individually assessed and will be upgraded over the next 12-36 months. Boreham won’t rule out further closures but says any unsuitable sites would probably have to be replaced.
‘‘We are absolutely committed to providing reassurance in the community by being present in the community. Part of that includes police buildings.’’
Back in Waikanae, Russell Feist wonders what he’ll do with the 22 volunteers, who have staffed the base from 10am4pm on weekdays for the past 14 years. He was happy to continue – he didn’t feel unsafe.
There is some hope the community advice service will find another home, but it won’t be under the police banner.
Feist agrees it’s better to have police visible on the street rather than in an office. But very few people see them.
‘‘Take away the police sign and there is no police presence in Waikanae. Or so it appears.’’
And in Ngaruawahia, Ramsay has a message for both government and corporates using technology as an excuse to pull out of small towns and suburbs.
‘‘Little communities matter as well.’’ Additional reporting: Audrey Malone