"Missing Men" Post WW1 and 2014: Same Phenomenon but Two Different Stories - Research essay, October 2014

“Missing Men” Post WW1 and 2014:
Same Phenomenon but Two Different
              Stories

                 Paul Callister

             Callister & Associates
              www.callister.co.nz

          Research essay, October 2014

Missing Men Post WW1 and 2014: Same Phenomenon but
                  Two Different Stories

Background
In the media there is much discussion about the New Zealand Man Drought.
But this is not a new phenomenon. In 2014, the year commemorating the start
of World War 1, my own family history illuminates an even more important
Man Drought, one that also dramatically affected the lives of many New
Zealand women.
The Callister and Ashton families were early European settlers in the
Wairarapa. As a young boy, I used to visit my grandparents, who by then had
retired from the original family farm and were living in Carterton’s Seddon
Street. Also living with them was my grandmother’s sister, Great Aunt Hilda
Ashton.
My Great Aunt Hilda was slim, dark and tall with penetrating eyes. My mother
called her ‘handsome’. In old photos Hilda looks severe, but then so did
everyone in those days when being photographed was something of a formal
occasion. As a boy, I was a bit scared of her.
Over half a century later, I still visit the Wairarapa. On I3 August 2014, I
attended the re-enactment of the first group of soldiers leaving for World War
1 one hundred years earlier. This centennial ceremony was held in Masterton’s
Square, edged on one side by the Town Hall and on the other by the Wairarapa
Times Building. Following the ceremony and the re-enacted speeches, the
soldiers then marched to the Masterton railway station with the crowd
following them, just as had occurred a century earlier.
The following day, the Wairarapa Times Age (14/8/14) reported that, “It is not
known how many of the 64 World War I soldiers they represented actually
returned from the conflict but Wairarapa war historian Neil Frances said of the
first 100 men to join the fight from Wairarapa 23 were killed.” Like many other
towns throughout New Zealand, in each Wairarapa town the war memorials
display long lists of those who lost their lives in the war.

Figure 1: Re-enactment of the first group of soldiers leaving for World War, I3
August 2014

Source: Paul Callister

From both an individual and societal perspective, the war’s toll was tragic. But,
from a demographic vantage point, it is interesting to examine Hilda’s life set
against these particular events.

My Great Aunt Hilda, a War Spun Spinster
Hilda Theresa Ashton was born in Carterton in 1896. According to the online
encyclopaedia, that year, a general election saw the re-election of PM Dick
Seddon; the Brunner Mine disaster and the death of 65 miners, as well as the
founding of the National Council of Women, with Kate Sheppard elected as its
first president.
The five yearly Census of Population and Dwellings also happened to be taken
that year placing New Zealand’s population at 743,214. Coincidentally, Hilda
died in 1976, another census collection year.
My Great Aunt Hilda was a spinster, a term that you don’t hear much these
days. When I was young I thought it was Hilda’s own choice not to marry.
Instead she became a ‘career woman’ earning her keep as a dressmaker. Today
she probably would have had a small shop and a website, but back then she
worked from home. Many women attending the 2014 re-enactment of the

troops leaving Masterton for the Western Front wore the types of clothing
made by Hilda.
In common with many spinsters at that time, Hilda did not live alone. Instead,
for most of her adult life she lived with her older sister Flora, and Flora’s
husband, Arthur Callister. According to the June 25th 1914 edition of the
Wairarapa Times, Hilda was the bridesmaid at Flora and Arthur’s reportedly
‘quiet’ wedding. In fact, Hilda continued to live at their Seddon Street home
until she had to go into a local retirement home, Carters Court, many years
after the death of her older sister, my grandmother.
Like many older New Zealanders, I have become interested in my family history
and the effect of the two World Wars on New Zealand society. With my father I
recently visited Carterton’s war memorial. There, on the list of those killed in
World War 1, he pointed out the name of the man with whom my aunt had
had ‘a romantic interest’. According to The Papers Past website, Captain FHE
Morgan, of the Wellington Regiment (17th Ruahine Regiment) and Military
Cross holder, died of wounds on July 22nd 1918, just four months before the
end of World War 1.
Figure 2: Carterton War Memorial

Source: Paul Callister

Looking back, I now realise that Great Aunt Hilda’s spinster status wasn’t
unique or unusual or even, less charitably, self inflicted but was, in fact,
commonplace. In fact, Hilda was just one of an entire generation of spinsters.

A Short History of New Zealand’s Uneven Sex Ratios 1
When Hilda was born, many still regarded New Zealand as a ‘Man’s Country’.
Certainly when Hilda’s own parents (mother nee Butler) were settling into
Carterton, there were many more Pakeha / European males than Pakeha /
European females living in New Zealand. In the 1867 census, there were just
over 45,000 more men than women out of a total Pakeha / European
population of 218,600 (a ratio of 152 males for every 100 females).
Although the large disparity between the numbers of men and of women
characterising the early days of colonial New Zealand had reduced by the time
of Hilda’s birth, in 1896 there were still 112 males for every 100 females
among what is now officially termed the ‘non-Māori population’. In the same
year, the difference was even larger among Māori, with 119 men to every 100
women.
For the non-Māori population, these uneven national sex ratios were
determined by patterns of immigration. Mining, sawmilling and building
railways attracted men. As a result many men found it hard to find a wife.
Rather than being a ‘Man’s Country’ (as described by Jock Phillips in his 1987
book), for many it was ‘Man Alone’, as John Mulgan described in his book of
the same name (published in 1939). According to calculations in Margaret
Arnold’s Master’s thesis which investigates the proportion of men and women
‘ever married’ at each census between 1896 and 1966, in 1896, the year Hilda
was born, just 58 out of every 100 adult males were ‘ever married’. For
women, who were in shorter supply, this figure was higher at 74.
One result of these early uneven sex ratios was formal and informal marriage
between migrant men and Māori women. Prostitution also flourished in early
colonial New Zealand as did, more covertly, male homosexuality as described
by Chris Brickell in his 2008 book Mates and Lovers: A History of Gay New
Zealand.

1
 A longer history can be found in Callister, P. and Didham, R. (2012) Man Alone' to 'Woman Alone'?: New
Zealand sex ratios since the mid 1800s, Working Paper, Centre of Methods and Policy Application in the Social
Sciences (COMPASS), University of Auckland.

But ‘nature’ ensured that birth ratios in 1896 were similar to what they are
today. In that year’s census, there were 103 boys for every 100 girls under five
years old.
By the time of the 1911 census, when Hilda was 15, there were just 101 boys
for every 100 girls in her age group. But, not surprisingly by the 1916 census,
when Hilda was 20, a large proportion of young men were overseas. In March
1916, the New Zealand Division was formed. By September, it was fighting in
the Battle of the Somme, as – so it later transpired - was my maternal
grandfather as part of the British army. According to New Zealand History
Online, of the 15,000 members of the New Zealand Division that went into
action at the Battle of the Somme, nearly 6,000 men were wounded and 2,000
lost their lives. My mother’s father was also wounded and shipped back to
England.
Helping to care for the wounded during WW1 was Hilda’s older cousin,
Theresa Butler. Theresa was the first New Zealand nurse to serve in the war
and one of the few New Zealanders to be awarded the 1914 Star.
Figure 3: Hilda Ashton’s cousin Theresa Butler

S o u r c e : A u c k l a n d W ar M em o r i a l M u s e um

Back in New Zealand, in the mid-war 1916 census, with all the soldiers
overseas, amongst 20 year olds there were just 71 males for every 100
females.
World War 1 transformed forever the sex ratio of Hilda’s generation. Many
young women had lost boyfriends, fiancés or husbands. For the remainder of
their lives, their chances of finding a husband were severely diminished.

The Post War Man Drought
The first census after World War 1 was taken in 1921. By then, Hilda was 25
years old and in the marriageable age band common at that time. According to
the 1920 New Zealand Yearbook, the ages of both bridegrooms and brides
increased dramatically during the war years, reaching to just over 27 years for
brides in 1917.
But Hilda faced what is now sometimes termed a ‘Man Drought’. In the 1921
census, there were only 87 males aged 25 for every 100 females of this age.
Not all the men would have been considered good marriage prospects. Many
returned from war bearing deep physical and mental scars, as my sister, Sandy
Callister, has written about in her book The Face of War.
Yet, due mainly to migration, in this 1921 census, across the whole New
Zealand population the sex ratio was once again more even, with 105 males for
every 100 females. Farming and manufacturing were attracting male migrants
and among the young New Zealand born, the ‘natural’ birth ratio ensured that
there were more boys than girls.
Yet, by the time Hilda was 30, a male shortage was still in evidence. In the 1926
census, for her age group, the ratio was 90 men to 100 women. When she was
40, it was 91, rising to 92 in the 1945 and 1951 censuses. In 1951, Hilda was 55
years of age and still a spinster. Yet, Margaret Arnold’s calculations show that,
in this census, 79 out of every 100 adult males were recorded as ‘ever married’
and 84 out of every 100 females. Marriage was far more common for both
men and women than in the early days of New Zealand’s colonisation.
I was first recorded in the 1956 census. I was nearly two years old at the time
and part of the post war Baby Boom with its high marriage rates. Arnold’s
research shows that in 1961, 83 out of 100 adult males were recorded as ‘ever
married’ rising to 88 for adult females. In 1961, I was a seven year old.

Everywhere I looked, adults were married. No wonder then that my Great Aunt
seemed to me the odd one out having never married.
Hilda was already 60 years old by the time of the 1956 census. Although World
War 1 had resulted in the deaths of many young men, it was the differences in
male and female life expectancy that affected the sex ratio of 60 year olds. In
this census, in this age group, there were just 85 men for every 100 women. By
the time Hilda died, just weeks before the 1976 census was undertaken, for
those aged 80, the sex ratio was down to 53 men to every 100 women.
Figure 4: Hilda’s headstone Clareville cemetery, Carterton

Source: Paul Callister

Yet, although Hilda Ashton lived during a period where, in her marriageable
age group, there was a ‘man drought’, census data show that overall - the 1945
census aside - there were more men than women in New Zealand.

The Current Man Drought
But the census year in which Hilda died, 1976, was a turning point. That year
saw an overall balance between men and women. But in every census since,
there have been more women than men in the population. By 1986, while
there were 98 men for every 100 women, by 1996 this had reduced to 97 and
by the 2006 census it was down to 95, a ratio also seen in the 2013 census.
But where the ‘man drought’ is really pronounced in New Zealand is in the
marriageable 25-49 year age group. In 2013, there were just 91 males for every

100 females in this age group. For those aged 25-49 years, this is a much larger
imbalance than has been seen in any census post World War 1.
We know why men went missing in the early 20th century, but why did they
appear to be missing once again as we moved into the 21st century?
Today’s story is a much more complex one, driven mainly by migration both to
and from New Zealand.
This begs the question as to whether we are now seeing a new group of
‘spinsters’? The answer is no for a variety of reasons. Changes in social
attitudes towards living arrangements, major shifts in women’s economic
opportunities and more supportive social policies mean that fewer women
remain single or childless throughout their lives. But some will always live
alone, while a significant number of others will go through long periods
without a live-in male partner, yet raise children. The Domestic Purposes
Benefit, introduced in 1976 just before my Great Aunt died, allows women
(and men) to raise children on their own, or with an ex-partner who does not
reside in the same household. Better economic opportunities allow women to
be ‘breadwinners’ raising children on their own or sharing childrearing with
separated partners. In addition, both women and men, can openly live with,
and now marry and sometimes raise children with, their same sex partners.
Through advances in reproductive technology, a man may simply be a ‘donor
dad’.
In 2014, finding a partner is also no longer restricted to a small geographic
area. Opportunities to travel as well as the internet widens the potential net. In
other words, local and national sex ratios matter less these days.
The end of the 19th century, when my Great Aunt Hilda was born, was a time
when single men, mostly young, often lived in bush huts in rural New Zealand.
World War 1 created a severe shortage of men in the marriageable age group
and created a group of young spinsters who remained single throughout their
whole lives. Now, most single people are urban based older women and most
will have had children. They either live alone in their homes or with other
single people, mainly women, in retirement villages. Hilda was single but never
lived alone. But her life covered a period where New Zealand shifted from a
‘man alone’ model to a time where ‘woman alone’ was starting to become
much more common. Were he alive now, I wonder what John Mulgan would
make of these changes.