Have you ever stopped to think about your address? I mean, really think about it? And not just the street name – which you might idly have paused to wonder about the origin of – but the number? Or why you even have one? For those of us with one, they’re the sort of thing you take for granted, and it’s easy to forget that having a street address gives you access to other critical things, a bank account being the prime example in Aotearoa (as a thought experiment, try to imagine what life would be like without a bank account). Joining the library also requires a street address, although it is possible to sign up to the electoral roll without one. Further, you often need to supply an address when applying for identity documents, largely because that document needs to be sent somewhere. It would seem that some legislation requires you to be able to provide the police with a street address. Mostly, though, a street address is about access, in more ways than one.
This delightful image of a square villa - with toddler standing perilously close to the road - was probably taken in Christchurch (surely those are the Port Hills in the background!) in the early 20th century. If you look closely, you can see a street number on the gatepost to the right (it’s clearer in the original, which you can get to via the image reference). Image: Alexander Turnbull Library.
A street address is, somewhat obviously, a link between person and place, and it is this link that makes them fundamental to urban archaeology in many places - and hence why you find an archaeologist writing a blog post about them. As most of you will be well aware, archaeology is not just about what we find in the ground, it’s about who put it there. In an urban context, a street address is a key way of making that connection between archaeology and people. Thus, understanding the history of street addresses in a particular place is pretty helpful when it comes to researching its archaeology. Which makes it pretty surprising that, in more than 20 years of practicing archaeology in Ōtautahi Christchurch, it was only in writing this blog that I learnt the full history of the city’s street addresses. In my defence, I had a vague understanding, which has not been disproved by this research. But still…
There is some evidence to suggest that the first use of house numbers in Europe was in 15th century Paris, but it was the 18th century and the Enlightenment that saw the proliferation of comprehensive street numbering systems across the continent (Cicchini 2012: 614-615, Rose-Redwood, et at. 2022: 94, 97, Tantner 2009: 10).* Drawing on the work of Michel Foucault, Rose-Redwood, Tantner and Kim note that this timing coincided with a widespread obsession on the part of authorities of the era with accounting for people – or, more correctly, with accounting for people and space to enable the ‘better’ governing of both (Rose-Redwood, et at. 2022: 96). In his own work, Anton Tantner describes street numbering as being part of a broader Enlightenment concern with classification and order, outlining how street numbers served to permeate the walls of houses, which had heretofore kept out the authorities (2009: 9-10). Indeed, the early European house numbering systems generally grew out of military concerns (such as conscription and locating billets), policing, conducting a census or taxing the population (Cicchini 2012, Rose-Redwood, et at. 2022: 97-98, Tantner 2009: 12-15). Perhaps unsurprisingly, there was also at least one instance of street numbers being introduced to enable authorities to track the location of a Jewish population (in Prague, 1727; Rose-Redwood, et at. 2022: 97). Nothing, then, to do with helping people find their way around a city, or locate a particular person or business – not only does this reflect the smaller size of urban centres at the time, but also the smaller geographical extent of many people’s worlds, and the widespread use of house and shop names (Thale 2007: 135).
The 19th century saw a change in the driver for house numbering, particularly in the United States, where, perhaps fittingly, capitalism reared its head and private enterprise got involved. In particular, the publishers of street directories began to see real value in individual street addresses, as their directories relied on accurately locating people and businesses (Rose-Redwood 2008: 290, 293). In case you’re not familiar with them, street directories were the forerunner of phone directories (also now a somewhat quaint relic…) and listed all the occupants of a city according to where they lived (in theory at least – the reality is that the information in street directories must be treated with caution). City authorities did continue to play a role in house numbering, but it was often pressure from directory publishers that led to street addresses being established – this pressure typically revolved around the idea that having street numbers would make deliveries of goods more efficient, and thus be good for business and the overall profitability of the city in question (Rose-Redwood 2008: 295). Rose-Redwood (2008: 293) notes that some directory publishers had worked as census-takers before pivoting, as it were, and using that same data as the basis for their new venture – no data protection laws in those days… Given that, it won’t surprise you to learn that some government employees also sold data to directory publishers (Rose-Redwood 2008: 299). What’s not clear from Rose-Redwood’s (2008) analysis of the role of directory publishers in house numbering is why these city authorities needed prompting to establish street addresses. It may reflect the fact that other systems had developed in order to efficiently tax and police local populations without street addresses, but it’s also possible that what happened in Christchurch sheds some light on this.
A page from the 1880-81 Wise’s New Zealand Post Office Directory, showing how names and locations were listed prior to street addresses being issued. Image: H. Wise & Co.. 1880-81: 68.
It was in 1877 that the possibility of numbering the houses was first raised with the Christchurch City Council, by one G. A. Buck (Globe 20/11/1877: 2). At this juncture, it’s important to note that New Zealand’s 1867 Municipal Corporations Act made street numbering the preserve of councils (and meant they could compel people to display a number for their house) – and councils still hold this responsibility today (CCC, n.d.). Astute reader, you won’t be in the least surprised to learn that Mr G. A. Buck was a directory publisher. And while successful in that sphere, there are no house numbers listed in the resulting directory, indicating that his plan for bringing more precise location data to Christchurch homes and businesses – although approved by the council – was ultimately unsuccessful (Globe 20/11/1877: 2). In this, the councillors who had argued that people were unlikely to support the scheme were thus proven correct (Globe 20/11/1877: 2). Of interest about this scheme is that it was to use Colombo and Worcester streets as the baselines – essentially, the two central streets of the city, and thus a nice symbolic selection, connecting all addresses to these points (Globe 20/11/1877: 2). And thus, Christchurch’s hapless residents were left to find their way around the city without the aid of a simple street number (or, it seems very likely, street signs – but that’s a whole other story).
Address-less homes and businesses, Christchurch, 1881. Imagine being the person seeking a job with Mrs Hargreaves, desperately trying to find her house and make a good impression (Mrs Hargreaves advertised for servants a lot, and I imagine she was hard to impress at the best of times…). Image: Press 6/10/1881: 1.
It would be another five years before Christchurch city (the area within the Bealey, Fitzgerald, Moorhouse and Hagley avenues and Park Terrace) would get street numbers. Once again, they came about as the result of a proposal from a private individual – Thomas Tait – to carry out the work (frustratingly, I couldn’t find out much about Thomas, although he was somewhat of a serial proposer of house numbering, also doing so in Sydenham, Timaru and Wanganui, but only Christchurch accepted his offer – make of that what you will…; Press 6/6/1882: 3, South Canterbury Times 26/9/1882: 2, Wanganui Chronicle 15/6/1882: 2). Once again, some councillors objected that the city was not ready for a such a step (although there was no explanation of why, or what readiness might look like, it is presumed that the councillor in question was referring to the number of vacant sections in the city). One noted that the work should be carried out by the council, not a private individual (Globe 2/5/1882: 2). The mayor of the day (J. G. Ruddenklau), however, was a strong supporter and noted that the council would probably never get around to such a task on their own, suggesting a certain lack of interest in the matter. Letters to the editor in the papers were also largely in favour, although there were the inevitable quibbles about the method (Lyttelton Times 3/5/1882: 6, Globe 2/5/1882: 2, Press 6/5/1882: 7). Tait’s scheme was approved, and he was contracted to carry out the work, although householders could also put up their own numbers (Globe 11/7/1882: 3, Press 24/6/1882: 2). In this scheme, the baselines were what are now Fitzgerald and Moorhouse avenues, with the even-numbered houses on the north side of the east-west streets and on the west side of the north-south streets.
Thomas Tait, approved to carry out house numbering in Christchurch. Image: Press 24/6/1882: 2 (supplement).
But the story of Christchurch’s street addresses does not end here (I know, I’m exhausted too). You see, what we know as the city of Christchurch today was in the 19th century one ‘city’ and several surrounding ‘boroughs’, each of which was responsible for their own street numbers. And there were streets that ran through more than one of these areas. And duplicate street names, ‘River’ being dispiritingly popular. You can imagine the chaos: letters on the wrong side of town, doctors at the wrong address, parcels gone astray. Nightmarish. In fact, in 1908 the Chief Postmaster noted that there were 88 streets in the city with 38 names between them (Star 21/7/1908: 3). Something must be done! And, indeed, it was. A plan was developed, edicts were issued, numbers were ordered and, et voila, Christchurch had a completely new set of street numbers. While the doctors of the day were happy, historians and archaeologists have been cursing ever since.** Now, the next paragraph goes into some nitty-gritty details for those who are interested – if you’re not, just skip straight to the conclusion. No one will know.
Street addresses! So much easier to find Mrs Hargreaves! But J. Spence was clearly a bit behind the times… Image: Star (Christchurch) 22/2/1883: 2.
In this new scheme, the baselines were chosen because they were believed to be the limits of the city’s growth (history will make fools of us all), being the Port Hills and Hagley Park (Riccarton didn’t become part of Christchurch city until 1989). Within the four avenues, the streets were to be renumbered from north to south and east to west. Outside of this area, the streets were to be numbered from the town belts. Odd numbers were to be on the left hand side of the street, when facing north or east. The numbers themselves were to be brass and affixed (such a good word) to the gatepost, unless the householder complained, in which case they could be put somewhere else – doctors had advocated strongly for the gatepost. If you already had a street number, you wouldn’t have to pay for it to be replaced. If not, well, you were going to have to pay. The only streets that didn’t have to be renumbered (in the area covered by Christchurch city, Linwood, St Albans and Sydenham) were Cambridge and Oxford terraces, as these were already numbered from west to east (Lyttelton Times 7/10/1909: 5, Star (Christchurch) 14/1/1910: 3). The work began in September 1909 and had been completed by 31 March 1911 (Press 17/9/1909: 6, 19/9/1911: 8).
What we see in Christchurch, then, on the part of the local lawmakers, is both apathy (or that there were important things that street addresses to be focusing on) and a sense that the city wasn’t built up enough for street numbers to be required. In 1877, the latter views seem to have been borne out by the failure of the first scheme, but just five years later, matters had clearly changed. My thesis data does suggest a residential construction boom in the early 1880s. Many of these houses were built by home owners, and perhaps a new pride in home ownership and/or occupation encouraged people to take up house numbers to link them to a place in the city’s landscape, so that they could proudly say, I live at 396 Oxford Terrace. Or perhaps it was simply the case that the plethora of new buildings meant that, in the eyes of most residents, street addresses were necessary to help you navigate around the city. Or simply that the overall growth in the size of the city (whether in terms of population or number of buildings) meant that a tipping point had been reached, where street addresses were necessary to make the urban landscape legible (Rose-Redwood 2008: 289).
Katharine Watson
* In exploring the history of street addresses/house numbers, I would note that I only had access in English-language sources and these largely focused on Europe, England and the USA. As such, the historical background I’ve provided here has the same focus.
** It’s worth noting that changes in street addresses are not a problem unique to researching histories in Christchurch, but were in fact relatively common, as early systems needed to be replaced due to the growth of urban settlements.
References
CCC, n.d. Property numbering. [online] Available at: https://ccc.govt.nz/consents-and-licences/property-information-and-lims/property-numbering [Accessed 14 December 2023].
Cicchini, Marco, 2012. A new ‘inquisition’? Police reform, urban transparency and house numbering in eighteenth-century Geneva. Urban History 39(4): 614-623.
Globe. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers
Lyttelton Times. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers
Press. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers
Rose-Redwood, Reuben, 2008. Indexing the great ledger of the community: urban house numbering, city directories, and the production of spatial legibility. Journal of Historical Geography 34: 286-310.
Rose-Redwood, Reuben, Tantner, Anton and Kim, Sun-Bae, 2022. “Addressing the world”: a political genealogy of the street address. In: Frédéric Giraut and Myriam Houssay-Holzschuch, ed. The Politics of Place Naming: Naming the World. Wiley Online Publishing. DOI:10.1002/9781394188307. Pp. 93-107.
Star (Christchurch) . Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers
South Canterbury Times. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers
Tantner, Anton, 2009. Addressing the houses: the introduction of house numbering in Europe. Histoire & mesure 24(2): 7-30.
Thale, Christopher, 2007. Changing addresses: social conflict, civic culture, and the politics of house numbering reform in Milwaukee, 1913-1931. Journal of Historical Geography 33: 125-143.
Wanganui Chronicle. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers