My Story
I have finaly found some time to reflect on my time in Queen Street, the people I met and the reasons behind this sites existance.
I wake up and look at the monitor, 68 the magic number, down from 148. The first of 17 heart restarts. The first one did not work I found out afterwards it reset on the second attempt. They only try three times, I did not ask what they do then. You could tell how strong they were by the burn marks left on my chest and back where the adhesive pads were. These transmit the electricity for the shock that stops the heart. It then is suposed to restart by its self comming back in to rythm. My local Doctor later told me he would by kept up to date with the proceedings via email and he followed it with great interest, and agreed it was a tough time I was having.
In the early part the photographs were of a more frivolous vein. However after the first operation failed and the pills and the depression set in they progressed to being much darker as my mood changed.
During this stage I spent most of my time on Queen Street, I was very unwell with a worsening serious heart condition. The first operation was unsuccessful and I had to wait a further six months to allow it to heal so they could try again.This was when the majority of restarts occured. At that time I was on a cocktail of drugs that induced severe depression along with a few other issues and could barely even walk up Queen Street. The side effects were so distressing that it just sucked the life out of me. Unbelievably terrible and thought at times "if this is all it's meant to be, I don't want to be around much longer."
Around this time during a visit to the specialist I enquired as to wether or not it would kill me, his reply was, after a significant pause, and checking the ECG printout he said probably not, however it was a possibility. That cheered me up no end.
Some days the side effects were so bad I could not stand up and would be stuck at the library holding on to a bookshelf to stop me from falling over. On other occasions it was so difficult I would call my wife and get her to talk me down Queen Street to our apartment as I was worried that if I passed out someone might steal my camera and she would not know where I was.
It was during this time that I developed a strong affinity with the guys and girls on Queen Street. Feeling so desperate myself I discovered I had a lot in common and many became my friends which in turn lead to a wide range of experiences some extremely sad stories and some, now in hindsight, quite funny.
A few words I wrote while wandering Queen Street on a wet morning.
I was walking alone with my heart on the ground.
Looking at people that have no right to be around.
As my eyes wandered by, my brain in a shroud, does anybody care, I wondered aloud.
Sad eyes, bare souls, everywhere to be seen.
I thought again who really cares, you know what I mean.
Not you, not me, or any I see.
Just many rushing by with somewhere to be.
No thought given, no care at all, just hurry by on my way to the mall.
Can’t stop, can’t see, somewhere to be.
Not here not now, too sad to involve.
Who cares about their story waiting to be told.
Don’t know, don’t care, Lord just get me outa here,
Right now, quickly, as fast as you can.
I don’t want to be seen by that kind of man.
So I’m gone, I’m home, who really cares.
Just me and all of those desperate stares...
What follows is a little oversight into the photos including a number of stories about some of the people I met in Queen Street over the five and a half years I spent on Queen Street, Auckland city. Most were taken in or very close to Queen Street during daylight hours. Many photos were taken with permission however some it was not possible for obvious reasons. I gave my card with my contact numbers to all and a small donation as thanks. On some occasions there was a higher cost...$10, $20 the highest was $40 I was happy to pay as I often said it is your face and without it the photo will be pretty awful. I think in some instances it was a matter of pride and that I was willing to pay for the privilige as a number of street photographers will literally steal a photo on the street without permission. I had a couple of heated run ins with a couple of photographers who were treating their subjects with little or no respect. I guess this is why over five and a half years I had very little in the way of problems once my reasons were known and my reputation on the street developed.
A large number of photos were taken of people on the street with the condition that they would not be published on Facebook. This was the reason for the 'Mike Wheelton photography' site as there is limited opportunity to share and no opportunity for negative feedback (haters).
Another photographer published a photo on Facebook of a guy on the street along with some incorrect information which was thought to have come from me. This resulted in me being confronted on the street and told in no uncertain terms that this was not what was agreed too and there would be trouble. I pointed out that it was not me and I did and would not break that agreement and the matter was resolved. The person who put the post up was warned not to do it again as if he did there it would be a a major problem.
At the beginning, there was quite a bit of suspicion as to what I was doing on the street with some thinking I was the Law snooping around taking photos of the street residents. That along with the fact that at one stage I was sure I was not going to make it to the second operation I decided it wasn't worth the effort to get a haircut or worry too much about general appearance. I guess my outward appearance was looking a little dishevelled at that stage.A number of people thought I was homeless myself at that stage. I also thought I was, mentally so at least.
The drugs I was taking at that time, found me arriving at Intensive care in Auckland Hospital seventeen times during that period to have my heart stopped and restarted didn't help my general outlook on life. There was one highlight of the restart process was Propofol which was the drug used to put Michael Jackson to sleep every night. It is used as a general anesthetic. One of the Doctors, who was about to administer it to me, had a discussion with me about it and the effects it produced, such as euphoria and the wonderful warm feeling before it all goes black. He explained that if the dose was introduced a little slower the feeling would last a little longer. I asked him to to take a little more time when administering it as previously I had experienced some discomfort as the drug was released. It was quite a pleasant few seconds before the lights went out.
A number of followers have asked the perenial question "do you ask permission?" or "have you signed a release form?". The reality was that a number of people I photographed were under the influence of drugs or alcohol and in some cases mentally impared, this along with the fact that many on the street used nicknames and aliases meant they would have virtually no value in a court of law. You can see in many photos the subjects were quite aware of my prescence as the were looking straight at me. I would in ask permission and show them the photos on the screen on the back of the camera quite often commenting on the photo asking them if they new who the good looking bastard was in the picture was. Other times I would take a photo of someone and his mate would chime in with why don't you take my picture to which I would reply that they were too good looking and their photo would be crap, and I only took photos of ugly people which was normally met with much laughter especially from their "ugly mate".
Below is the current law regarding photography in New Zealand.
"It is generally lawful to take photographs of people in public places without their consent. However, you must not film or take photos of people if they are in a place where they can expect privacy (such as a public changing area or toilet) and that person:
- is naked, in underclothes, showering, toileting etc
- is unaware of being filmed or photographed
- has not given consent to be filmed or photographed.
You should not take photos of people if:
- they are in a place where they would expect reasonable privacy and publication would be highly offensive to an objective and reasonable person
- it has potential to stop other people's use and enjoyment of the same place
- you have no legitimate reason for taking the film or photos.
However, you can take and/or publish photos or film of people where there is no expectation of privacy, such as a beach, shopping mall, park or other public place.
It was quite a revelation to discover how "normal" many people on the streets were. Some times it took years to strike up a conversation and be trusted. Many have addiction or mental healh issues but this did not inhibit our relationship.
There was a huge range of people to talk to, funnily enough. I found nearly all to be respectful and amongst the few people who would talk to me openly during this difficult time, these included Steve who helped me immensly when I was really struggling, with his calm outlook on life and infinite words of wisdom.He had in the past travelled to India and was a considerable calming influence in my darker days, others including Fatty, Johnathan, The lawyer, Romeo, Viper, Moko Pete, Maori, Dog, Wolverine, Artsoul Andy, Tui, Mikey, Brucie, Johnny Cool, The Hillbillies, Rudi the Taxi driver, my truly wonderful wife Vicky and more.
I spent a lot of time talking to a number of local Taxi drivers of all different nationalities on my walk into town every day. We shared stories and on a number of occasions would not accept a fare to take me up to the Hospital when I needed a reset or would lose their place in the que to drop me home when it was raining heavily at no cost. I would return the favour by hopping in the cab to make it look like I was fare when the parking wardens were on the prowl and they were waiting in a loading zone.As time went by I found most of them to be great guys and fun to talk to and quite often explaining the New Zealand way with regard to politics, customs, culture and thought patterns. One person in particular had a pretty rugged road to get here and spent a considerable time in Japan. During this time he became fluent in Japanese and Chinese. He had a strong Eastern European accent and when he picked up Chinese customers from the Casino late at night they would ask him if he spoke Chinese to which he replied in his heavy accent, no, no Chinese. He would listen to the conversations as to how much they had lost that night, and in some cases many hundreds of thousands of dollars. He would take them down to the Vault on Customs street and wait while they picked up another few hundred thousand in cash and take them back to the Casino. Some of his stories were fascinating.
There were a number of humerous encounters with a number of parking wardens, some who gave no quarter and others who would confide in me some of their more humerous experiences. Many outsiders felt they were hardly done by by these people but many times the stories reflected a more human side. I am unsure how many of those could be repeated here but some revolved around compassion shown to people with physical handicaps, some because of their looks, others because they simply treated the the wardens with respect.One common thread among Chinese drivers was their convienent lack of English when confronted by a parking warden, I would listen in to the conversation which would include lots of use of "I don't understand, have no english" however when I was standing behind them I would say something in English only to see them spin around and answer in perfect english.
This also would happen to me as they would park on the pedestrian crossing blocking the way when you had the cross now sign, repeated requests would be made to them back up a little so we could get through. These were always met with blank stares and mumblings about no english. One day after repeated requests to one driver with no response a large Samoan chap who was standing by me listening to the conversation leaned in the window and told him if he did not back up he would get fuc#ed up in a big way, the driver suddenly remembered how to speak english and told us if we touched him he would call the police. We both laughed as he backed out of the way.
One of the best stories came from a guy I met early on when he was telling me how he won over $2000 on the pokies, he went on to tell me how it was spent. A significant amount was put into his daughters bank account. When I enquired as to where the rest went, the reply was a little hazy however it involved a decent steak meal, a few naked women, sex and lots of drugs. His only regret was he was still high and would not be able to sleep for a few days as it would take some time for the drugs to wear off. I was sorry I missed the the early parts of that evening.
There was always a number of security guards on Queen street at the time. A couple I got to know were a large South African guy, 150kgs, 6ft 10inches, arms about a meter long. The other a Fijian man with whom I would play the most pathetic games with, although at the time we both hugely enjoyed. I was pretty wasted at the time and it always gave the day a lift. It mostly consisted of me trying to snatch his cellphone as I walked past without him seeing me coming, which would result in him muscling up and pretending to administer some rough justice. The other one which was even more pathetic was sneaking up and pinching each other's bum. This was always hilarious as he or me would be completely focused on other activities and suddenly you feel a hand on your bum. We frightened each other a number of times! This would be done, obviously, when they were not busy on other duties. The big guy was always being threatened by the guys on the street. He would invite them to take their best shot and then reach out putting his hand on their head and they couldn't even reach his chest let alone anything else. They were held in high respect by a lot of the guys on the street and only when having to do their official work, moving people on etc, that things would sometimes become a little heated. Looking back an outsider would think it was rather immature but it helped us deal with the day to day boredom. I loved the Fijian's childish happy sense of humor.
There are a few annual events which also allowed me to get special shots. One was the Zombie walk which always was huge fun. Some of the participants were scolded for scaring the young Asian students by ganging up on the girls closing in on them then scaring the crap out of thier captives. Many of the participants along with their make up artists who went on the walk put a tremendous effort to make it a great photo day on Queen Street.
The drug scene was always strong, with most requirements being available on Queen Street. There was a lot of drug dependance on the street and it was particularly sad to see the effects on mates close up. It always began with "nah I can handle it" to a few days later "hey mate I am hanging out can you lend me $20 and I will pay you back next week" which of course never happened. I always found this difficult as over time it became obvious where the money was going as when I gave a "donation", it sometimes saved some unpleasantness as their dealer would appear from nowhere and grab the cash to repay the debt. It always facinated me how much dealing went on in Queen Street under the noses of all the security cameras and passing police.
Synnies in various forms (synthetic Drugs) were on the street the whole time I was there. The strength of which has increased dramatically over time. This normally travels under the news radar until there are a few deaths such as happened in August 2017. It becomes embarassing for the government especially proir to an election when they were trying to spin thre was no homeless problem in Auckland. The police are then instructed to do something about it.This normally involved just moving all the users on to somewhere else so the general public won't see them as much then the politicians wuld then say things like "the problem is under control" or " its not really an issue" then a few weeks later its back to where it was.
The effects are very harsh on some users, normally just passing out in seconds but some others having adverse reactions as fitting or some cases death. Towards the end of my time on Queen Street they were a common occurance, all day, every day, for a couple of weeks ambulances were a common sight with a reported twenty one callouts to incidents in one day alone. A common saying at the time was that when you observed someone fitting on the street, it was "they can't handle the synnies". Some of the public were very concerned and would rush in to help but the Queen Street regulars would just walk on by shaking their heads in disbelief. I was challenged quite a few times for taking photos of the users but I just carried on.
The synnies were the drug of choice the effect was quick and hard. I would watch the process from purchase to collapse.Once the drug was smoked by burning on a coke can then inhaled the effect was quite quick. Many would get dizzy and attempt to walk it was interesting to watch as it was like the 5 step walking dead from the movie Kill Bill. They would make a few steps then collapse on the footpath, the gutter, or doorway. The public would rush in to see what they could do, a ambulace would be called however generally the would come arond quite quickly unfortunatley some would not and have to hospitalised. Some didn't and a number died around this time.
582 sleepers, that's how many people were sleeping in, on or around Queen Street during my time on the street. These were nearly all taken on Queen street or 100 meters either side of it. No higher than Aotea square and down to Quay street. Many I photographed several times as they would disappear for a while then return in many cases just released from prison, to repeat the process all over again. I don't know why I began photographing sleepers, I guess it was just that there were so many of them at the time and in a number of cases as time went by got to know quite well. Many shared their stories with me and I even has a request from a very attractive young lady to come and watch her perform at a gentlemans cub towards the top of Queen Street. I declined sadly as I was not sure what all that excitement would do to my poor old heart which was giving me so much greef at the time, however I appreciated the offer.
Not all were sleeping in the normal sense of the word as towards the end a number had passed out from synnies use or were under the influence substances. Glue sniffing was particularly unpleasant to witness as the users seems to fare very poorly from this and was distressing to see them with glue all around their faces and clothes. I understand it was one of the cheaper methods of getting out of it.
There are always TV stations and individuals on the street looking for the Human interest story and the potential to save some souls. The reality is once all the cameras have gone, the programme aired and the dust settles, the individual concerned who was inundated with many so called job offers has to undergo a drug test before starting employment. They would refuse to comply as they knew they will fail, so it's back on Queen Street they would go until discovered once again and the process is repeated. I recently saw a Herald article featuring a chap who had given his last dollar to a passer by and what a great gesture it was but in reality it was just a great story by a guy attempting to get some money.
Many of the people I met admitted to drug use for a variety of reasons. These included physical and sexual abuse quite often from close family and even parents and relatives. This was quite common especially among young men who would get very emotional when relating their story to me and this in turn led to significant anger and barely supressed agression. (I am currently listening to a radio report on a grandfather who has been sentanced for abusing his three granddaughters from the age of three).
Early addiction was common as many mothers were drug users and they were born addicts, in some cases given drugs from an early age. Some because of mental health issues and or alcohol fetal syndrome etc. Some confided in me that if they could not get out of it on a regular basis they would be unable to cope. This would in turn lead to a major meltdown which would inevitably involve violence and they wind up back in jail again.
For a considerable number of people the first place they go to when let out of prison is Queen Street, this is where their "family" is and the first few days are spent finding their feet again. In too many cases they have nowhere to go and too little money for accomadation so they sleep rough on or around Queen Street. In many cases after a few days their old problems or weaknesses reoccur and an arrest will follow and so the cycle repeats.
It took me a while to work out what "family" were as I heard many times about someone's aunty or cousin who was on Queen Street and realised they could not all be related, however most residents on the street refered to their mates on the street as Family.For many a spell in Mount Eden prison was no real hardship as a number had family, real or street, already in there.One Queen Street regular told me after an eight month sentence that it was not too bad as his girlfriends dad was in there. Some didn't mind being arrested as I was told it was all a matter of timing, as if you arrived too late you would miss dinner and/or breakfast before the first prison van left for the courts. Many new the system very well and I once encountered a young man who was walking past a group of us talking when asked what he was up to he replied "i'm on way up to the police station to hand myself in" as he had a warrant out for his arrest.One of the others in the group said he had one too but he would just wait for the cops to catch him while he passed the days sitting on Queen Street in plain sight.
One lady was particularly staunch some days sportng a black eye or eyes along with other cuts and bruises. I offered her a position as my personal bodyguard as even I was scared of her, she was half my size. She would disappear for a few days normally to prison or doing community work up at the Oraki Marae working in the gardens which she loved, often working ten hour days quite happily. We would meet a few days later by which time she would be clean and fresh, however this would not last long and a few days later she would be back to her old ways. she always greeted me with hugs and kisses much to the consternation of the passers by who would nod towards me and her no doubt saying to their young offspring "see what happens when you don't do your schoolwork and study hard, you will end up on Queen Street looking like these two losers".
One character who was a regular, was a rather large chap who would just turn up on Queen Street, settle on one of the benches and just sit there sometimes for months at a time. He had a regular support group who looked after him and never let him go hungry. I used to buy him a pie and a coke every now and again and grab a few photos. He was a tremendous anchor point for "family" and always had a group with him which would attract the attention of the police. He would last for some number of months and would eventually get trespassed further and further up Queen Street until he was almost out of sight, however his health would deteriate slowly over this time and he would wind up in hospital, then on to a home. This occured a few times, however he seemed genuinely happy each time he was back on the street with family and friends. It was always good to catch up each time this occured.
One older gentleman had a spot just down from the Civic theatre. He was there most days, he was not homeless but travelled in by bus every day. A number of times he was given reasonable amounts, on one ocassion a chinese lady gave him a $50 note as I was chatting to him. He confessed his daily goal was "enough to get a packet of cigarettes and two bottles of nice sauvignon blanc" I saw him on a number times in the supermarket picking up his Groceries on the way home, sometimes quite early.
Another character was "the lawyer" who when served with various trespass notices would go up to the library, study all the relavent laws covering Queen Street, then go to court very well prepared and in some cases have the charges dropped as they were not valid or procedures had not been followed correctly. He was used by "Family" on a regular basis to check on their rights, hence the nickname 'the Lawyer'. We had a rather immature game where as I walked by I would call out in an angry tone "hey why don't you get a job" he would pretend to fire up and we would both be standing in the middle of Queen Street yelling at each other much to the horror of passers by who would give us a wide berth as they all thought it was real. I guess it would sound a little immature to most people but we both enjoyed the game and helped pass the time. I was shown a copy of his police record and soon realised why he had so much first hand knowledge of the law and its working. He was also reasonably popular with a number of shop managers with some bringing him coffee every morning as he would literally camp (live) on their door step for months at time with all his worldly possessions on the street with him. Every now and again he would be arrested on some minor charge and while was gone the council would be call by and all his posessions taken away as rubbish. This was an annoying setback but in a few days he would collect a new stash including clothes and bedding and carry on as before. There would be the odd occasion where things would get a little heated as some shop owners and workers tried to move him on. This did not really work as the younger female shop managers in the surrounding area liked him, treating him well and would immediatly come to his defence. In one event I witnessed the female manager got stuck in to the other complaints when threats were made towards him. I would sometimes step in to help diffuse the situation and on one ocassion was mistaken as a complaintent as I got a dressing down from one of the female managers. He is probably still there today.
Not all photos were of people living on the street. There was one particular young lady who always caught my eye. I took a couple of photos of her at different times, however on this particular day she was looking particulaly spectacular in a bright red dress and a red rose in her hair. I asked for a quick photo but just at that moment the lights changed and the cross now sign came on. She replied she was in a hurry and did not have time to stop and proceeded to cross the road, however she must have felt unhappy about her decision and turned at that precice moment and gave me a lovely smile and pose and continued on her way. I put it on my now deleted Humans of Queen Street Facebook page that night and it recieved over 24,000 page views. Amy posted on the page that she was sorry she could not stop however if she had the photo would not have been so spectacular. See Amy.
There was one particular fellow who was on Queen Street for the whole time I was. It took some time to establish some sort of rapport with him and get a photo. I was to learn he had no address and he told me that he would just walk all day untill he grew tired, then basically sleep where he stopped, I enquired as to where and he just pointed to the bench we were standing by. He was very well spoken and was the same age as me. I had trouble reconciling the fact that he just wandered the street and had no place to call home. He seemed quite happy and appeared to eat well, on some occasions we would pass several times on some days. I would see him given money on a number of occasions and I would do as well. I always felt embarressed as I could see he was uncomfortable taking cash, so in the early days I would give him $20 or so saying that I had just picked it up off the street and I was sure it was his. later I would just give him the money which was always followed by a quiet thank you. I was not the only one who gave generously, I saw one particular taxi driver I got to know quite well, James, who was from Europe go out of his way to cross the road to give a little to make his day easier. It changed my opinion of Taxi drivers. One day in early winter he was sporting an expensive full length new or near new Kathmandu puffer jacket. When I enquired as to where it came from he said a woman gave it to him because it was cold and wet and she wanted him to be warm. He wore it every day and when I last saw him he was still wearing it. It was not uncommon to see him sleeping on cardboard in the open during the day. One day when we both were wandering Queen Street it was obvious he had been in some sort of trouble as he had a black eye and some reasonable facial scratches. He is a very peacful gentle sort of person so when I enquired as to what happened, he explained someone had done it for no reason. When I asked as to what happened to the perpetrator he quietly replied that "his guys" had got him back and it would not be a problem in the future. I was pretty pleased to hear that the "Queen Street famliy" had sorted it for him. In hind sight I often thought I should have done more to help him as he admitted a few times he was getting tired and it would end soon. I can only guess what that may have meant. At the time I had to remind myself that I was an observer and that every person is in control of their own destiny and can do as they wish and it was not my place to comment or judge. This was something I had to remind myself almost daily.
Around this time I would be walking up Queen Street listening to the Radio, in particular 1ZB and Leighton Smith. This would stir me up especially when the subject was homeless people and how the National government refused to admit it was a problem. I spoke to Leighton a number of times and even sent him some recent photos which did help him and some listeners hopefully to change attitudes. I used to love the Rednecks calling for all the homeless to be sent to boot camps to teach them how to work, etc, etc. I could not work out how it was going to make all these people I had recently met on the street to overcome both the mental and physical handicaps I saw every day. One particular chap I new had very little in the way of legs and I am still unsure as how the hell making him run up and down hills was going to overcome his severe handicap. I am still waiting for someone to tell me...
The amusing thing at this time was I would be visiting the likes of 277 shopping center in Newmarket and be greeted by one of the guys I new from Queen Street. When I enquired as to what he was doing in this part of town he explained he had been put up in a motel up the road costing over $1,000 a week. National budgeted on 2 or 3 million dollars to assist the homeless however this blew out to $42 million in under six months.
As my time on Queen Street drew to a close I redoubled my efforts to get a nunber of portraits I had been missing for various reasons. One person I was missing was a rather large guy who was always wandering Queen Street and surrounded quite often with only a blanket around his shoulders. I saw him sleeping rough a number of times around town and never had much in the way of posessions. He was walking towards me one day head hunched over looking at the ground so I took a deep breath, introduced myself and requested a photo. His reply was "I like having my picture taken" and "what should I do". I almost wept, here was this guy who I had been reluctant to engage with for the last five years only to find he reacted and spoke like a ten year old child. He sat calmly in Vulcan Lane as we tried to sort out the best angles as I always attempt to take the most flattering photo possible. His main concern was he had a rather large indentation in his head above one eye which he explained was caused by an acccident where a steel gate fell on him and done the damage to his head when he was a child. The photo came out quite well and he viewed it seeming quite pleased with the outcome. I can only suggest this as I don't know for sure but could be the reason why he spoke and behaved as he did. I gave him quite a large donation as a thank you for his time however it was probably motived by my shame over my pre judgent of a fellow human on Queen Street. After all these years on the street I realised I new very little. Here was a person who I had judged by his looks alone with no background imformation at all. I guess many others made up their own mind about him as many would have seen him on a daily basis and as I was intimidated by his outward appearance.
Another couple of characters I met were Mikey and Brucey. They lived on the streets and various other places. Brucey was always up for a hot chocolate and a muffin. Steve and I used to meet with him at a cafe in High Street to discuss world affairs. One day when he was in town for a few days I enquired as to where he was staying and the reply was on Fort Street. I enquired as to where exactly on Fort Street, a boarding house or a back packers maybe? Steve interrupted telling me that I did not understand, on Fort Street meant literally that, ON the street. The old police station down there had some reasonable cover and the area was well lit and pretty busy at night and was apparently safe. Brucey would leave his pack down there during the day assuring us it would be ok as mates down there would keep an eye on it. I would buy Brucey something to eat now and again and observed him giving half away to "Family" on Queen Street. At one stage Brucey converted to Islam and lived at a mosque, this however ended in tears. However it was fascinating seeing him on Queen Street in full Arabic regalia including white robes, scarf and Egal which holds the scarf in place. He would greet all the students in their native tongue and appeared to have a reasonable command of the language. Steve and I would tease him about him being a terrorist and ask him not to attack us two old men to which he replied he was a peacful person. He eventually moved to Wellington as a number of his mates did as they were well looked after down there. I guess that's where all the Politicians and embassies are so there is a much stronger focus on keeping the streets looking tidy.
Mikey was his "brother" and was one day introduced to his "parents". I am a little unsure if they were his real parents or "family". He was always good to talk to as he had many adventures underway at any one time, these included film making amongst many others. One particular adventure saw him, "Johnny Cool" and his wife undertake a trip to South America. The story I heard on the street was that somehow Mikey got involved in taking a "package" to Europe for someone he met in Brazil. He was arrested and put in jail along with Johnny and held there for some months. Mikey has a extremely vivid imagination and the investigators had huge difficulty in trying to make any head way in their investigations interviewing him for days while he tied them up with ever increasing tales. After a while they contacted New Zealand police who in turn contacted Mikeys mother who explained a few things about Mikeys unusal behavoural patterns. She flew to Europe to bring him home. I understand all charges were dropped and Johnny was released as well. Mikey is alive and well living in Wellington.
Johnny Cool was always dressed as a pirate and apparently the only person who was allowed to practice with nunchucks in Aotea Square. He gave me a demonstration one day and I was pleased to leave unscathed. I met him in McDonald's Queen Street just before I came home when he confirmed the story of his and Mikeys world wide adventures.
When I first began shooting on the street I had some concerns as to how an older man would be percieved taking photos of younger ladies. The first attempt was with a young lady who had all the interesting features I thought would look great; ink, radical hair and peircings. I mustered all the courage I could stopping her in mid stride with the great opening line of "excuse me, do you mind if I take your picture" to which she replied "why". This wasn't what I had prepared for so I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind "I'm just a dirty old man who wants to take photos of pretty young ladies". She looked me straight in the eye and said "at least you're honest, go ahead, where do you want me to stand?". We both had a laugh, I grabbed a couple of photos and said goodbye. I met her on Queen Street a few more times and took some better photos. She introduced me to her mother one day when they were both in town for lunch.
Another young woman I randomly stopped one day for a photo had trouble keeping her eyes open when I took the shot. I requested if she could open her eyes a little more which she did, a number of years later that photo still makes me smile. I saw her on Queen Street a few times over the following years and took a few more photos. The last time I saw her was at the the bottom of Queen Street when I was with my wife, she looked stunning. I was struggling for words which is unheard of from me, and said something random. I guessed she could see me stumbling for words to which she said "I guess this is the first time you have seen me with my clothes on". We both laughed and parted company. My wife looked at me and said I wonder what she does for a living... I said I don't know but I could only guess. I think was lovely.
One young women who I met early on was a trending Goth from Papamoa, not far from my home town. Our paths crossed a number of times and I was always pleased to see her and see her progress. Nadia was quite happy to pose for me and did so regularly. The photos are of a quite random nature. She left town to move to Wellington, however a chance meeting in Queen Street one evening, we had a chat and agreed to catch up for a semi formal photo shoot the next day. Nadia and her partner were a little late as the complete make up routine could take up to an hour and a half. I took some wonderful photos of them both. Nadia has this rare ability to look straight at the camera and not blink or move and hold a pose naturally. I know Goths and their lifestyle is not everyones cup of tea however I found Nadia and her friends great. I went to a gathering of Goths, not sure what that is called, and one guy came over and suggested that my bright pink scarf was not suitable for this type of gathering. I quickly removed it and put it in my bag, the guys saw me do it and were quick to point out it was a joke and we had a laugh about it. Nadia's latest look is stunning and she does all her own make up and clothes. I personally like her look and love her open friendly nature, her willingness to pose early on helped me to gain confidence when approaching young ladies on the street.
One problem when taking photos of young ladies is some are very critical of their own looks. These women are not models and that is not what I wanted. I was always looking for a certian style or look. I personally love the look of freckles and found it almost impossible to find examples on the street. Many of the women I approached had them covered with make up, a number sort of agreed to a photo without their make up one day however it never eventuated. It seemed that teasing in their earlier school years about their looks has unfortunatly led many of them to believe they were less attractive than other girls who don't have them. I am not the only street photographer to express how few examples there are to photograph. One young women I met was unsure of my motives however agreed to my request and I think the results were stunning. She contacted me a few days later to tell me how much she liked the photo and could she have a high resolution copy for her mother. It pleased me immensley.
A number of times I took photos of younger women only to be contacted through facebook while running my Humans of Queen Street page to be told to remove thier photo in no uncertian terms to remove it as they thought they looked unattractive. l never understood this however a number of times I removed photos at their request. On another occassion I spied a young couple walking up Wellesley Street, she had a huge bunch of flowers and it was obvious they were both madly in love. I stopped them for the usual photo request which they reluctanatly agreed to after explaining they had just had lunch at Sky City where he had proposed and she had accepted. It was hard to get a decent photo on the street but I did and published the photo and the storys. Early in the evening I received an urgent message requesting I take down the post as only very close family knew and I understood her grand partents knew nothing about it. However by the time it had taken off and one of her friends had seen it and shared it all over the place. She called back a few minutes later saying "too late everyone has seen it" it was reposted and was happy with the excitement that it had generated on their special day.
One of the more horrific stories I had recounted to me was from a young Maori man with whom I had quite a long chat to about life in general. The longer we talked the more visibly upset he became and eventually the story came out. He recounted how he had been repeatedly sexually abused by both his father and his uncle when he was young and how at around twelve years of age he walked out to live on the streets. His anger was tremendous. We talked further he explained to me that he was quite small then but had now grown into a tall well built man. He went on to state how that if anbody touched him now in any way shape of form he would damage them permanently in no uncertian terms. This had caused him a few run ins with the law. I never really new what to say in these cases but I guess just listening to him, hearing his and others experiences, may have helped a little. I saw him on and around Queen Street for a few months then he disappeared as many so often did. I hoped it ended well but some how in all probabllity not.
There were and I guess still are a significant number of people on Queen Street who are on perscription drugs. I would often talk to one guy who had been a rough sleeper for a number of years who had a series of issues which necesssitated a significent number of meds. The conversation usually relvolved around his pills which he showed me a few times and was curious as to which did what. I had a look at them as he was thinking about stopping taking some or all of them as they made him feel drowsy. I looked them up and after seeing what they were for strongly reccomended he continue with them. He was and still is a Queen Street regular carrying all his posessions in his pack as did a number others in his situation. It always seemed to how unsatisfactory it was that someone with his illness and medication level was just left to live on and spend all day wandering Queen street.I was back in Auckland a year later and noticed he was still living on the street.
Many of the guys would congregrate at the Auckland library. In the morning there was always a que to get in and get to the computers on the first floor there was always a race on to get up the stairs first to get "Your" computer as they were available for free for the first hour at that time of day. It was always warm there in winter and had somewhere to charge your phone or watch a movie using the free WiFi available. The main security guard there was well known to all and ruled the place with an iron fist. All were welcome provided they behaved, were not too smelly, noisy, rowdy and if they wished to doze had to remain sitting up not lying down. One rough sleeper had an I Pad which he told me his kids had given him, would get cosy and pass the day watching movies. On a number of occasions I would witness the guard calling people out over bad behaviour, or in one case they smelled to bad. It worked, he came back clean later on. In another case a cell phone was stolen and the person who took it was identified on CCTV and when confronted about it he was told to go and get or he would banned forever. He returned the phone and apologised.
Begging on Queen Street was a common pastime. I tried it myself a few times. I was not wery good at I guess as the results were quite poor. It was interesting to watch the reaction of the passers by as I rattled my empty paper cup.The looks on their faces ranged from disgust,fear, and or embarrassment orsome avoided eye contact alltogether. At this time I was pretty heavily drugged and quite depressed. the amount earned on street was influenced by a number of factors. A disability or attractiveness was a bonus, especially if you were a young guy. Some could "Hustle" as it was called a significant amount in a day. The top earner took up to $1,200 on a good day. As we were chatting one day I witnessed him take $200 from a gent who I later met and was encouraging him to get off the streets and do something with his life.Others $300 was taken on a good day . I whitnessed many Chinese give significent amounts, $20 or $50 dollar notes were common I understand it was to do with the giver getting good luck by helping those less fortunate than them selves.
Another time, just off Queen St, I saw a guy I knew sitting in an entranceway. As in many cases when approaching people on the street you have to commit. You cannot make eye contact with them and then not do anything, and if you are walking to them you have to continue otherwise it won't look right. In this case I approached him for a photo as per normal, he said it would be $5, I said OK as I was committed by now. We chatted for a few minutes, during that time a number of visitors arrived and left, picking up baggies and dropping $10s or $20s into his lap. I watched this for a while and said to him "hey man, you got more money than I've got". He lifted the blanket and showed me the rest, probably a few hundred dollars. I asked for my money back as he was doing fine, he laughed and gave me my $5 back and said I could keep the photo.
Another time one of the guys I knew approached me asking if I wanted some meat. I couldn't figure out what the slang term "meat" related to thinking it was probably a brand of drug or something. After a few minutes he was frustrated and opened the bag and showed me some prepackaged fillet steak. I enquired as to how much and he said $20 for the lot. I was nervous about doing this as this was in the middle of Queen St on a busy afternoon and cameras were everywhere. He laughed and said he was a gangster and nobody would touch him. We eventually retreated to the local burger bar for a bit more privacy and the deal was concluded. It was one of those situations where to be accepted you had to be part of family. I nervously proceeded down Queen St to home expecting to be arrested at any stage. On arriving home I de-packaged it and threw the packaging down the rubish chute. I guess I wasn't cut out to be a gangster. There was a lot of petty theft on the street, sometimes to order as the older guys would ask young girls to hop into a store and grab what they wanted.The shops were powerless to do anything about it as they could not physicaly stop them and if they followed the girls they would run into thier minder who would openly encourage them to go sonewhere else.
There were a number of changes in the population makeup on Queen Street over this time as well, initially there were a high number of Chinese students in Queen Street easily identifiable by their clothing and style, this also included the cars driven and parked in Queen Street, some costing many hundreds of thousands. There was one located across the road from me, a Lamborgini would regularly have its appearance changed by its young owner from a Bat Mobile to a LA police car to something else. One day there was an altercation between him an a local driver who he had cut off and demanded he get out to discuss matters, I think he was suprised when the door opened and from behind the tinted glass appeared short a teenage boy of around twenty years of age wearing jandals.They went on their way after he was given a rather stern lecture on how to drive in Auckland.
As time went on the local population changed with a noticible increase in Indian students and a corresponding drop in Chinese. This change also had a coresponding change in the local food mart shops, as one of the managers told me the Chinese students would come in and spend up large on things like chocolate bars, junk food etc and not care about the cost however he bemoaned that the Indian students were all on a tight budget and would not shop with him and would go up to the local supermarket as it was cheaper, this cut his turnover in half. I had lunch on a number of occasions with Indian students who certianly new where the cheapest fast food combos were. One explained that he had $2500 to last him the year and seemed pleased tht halfway througt the year he still had just over $1500. The accomodation was equally tight with often large numbers sharing a flat. On one occasion a building manager explained that he wondered about all the commings and goings as he watched the security tapes, he checked one room and found fourteen in there. He evicted most of them only to look at the tapes later to see them all return. I understand some shared a bed in twelve hour stints which may have explained why there were always large numbers on Queen Street at any one time as they had to leave for twelve hours. When viewing Apartments on trade me their were floors literally covered in sleeping bags.
One evening I approached a fellow who posessed a remarkable full face moko and after a little negotiation $20 was the amount I would have to pay to get a photo. He also explained he had just been released from prison and seemed to be under the influence of something. I took the photo and we parted company. The next day I recieved a text from him demanding a meeting to "discuss" the previous evening. I always give a card which is how he was able to contact me. We agreed to meet outside the library where I thought I could seek refuge if required as the texts were a little threatening. As I approached I could see a group of guys hanging around looking a little unhappy however I wandered over to him to see what It was all about, at that point one of the bigger guys turned around looked at me and said " hey whats up my bro " it was someone I have known on the street for a number of years and have a good relationship with. Every one relaxed once they new I was family and and my reason for the photo was explained again, reasuring him it was all good I showed him a copy on my phone. I made the offer send a copy to him but he explained he had limited access to the internet or a cell phone so I went upstairs in the library and had a couple of copies printed out. He was waiting down stairs with a mate and when he saw them went very quiet, his mate was pretty impressed though commenting on how staunch he looked. His mate wandered off and he was still staring at the picture just given to him, I could see the tears welling up in his eyes, I commented on what a great photo it was to which he agreed. We shook hands and parted company.
Another time when the downtown food court was still operating I ran in to Tame Iti whom I approached for a photo His reply was "sure if you buy me lunch" I agreed and Chinese food it was. We chatted a little as we ate and then it was downstairs for a photo. On the way he purchased a new hat which is one of his signature trademarks. He also stipulated the picture was not to be used commercially with out his permission and I was only allowed one which is a little difficult as you normally take a couple as you are never sure how they will turn out on the street as and number of factors can influence the outcome, however I took one and it came out fine.
I attended a few protests over the time one in particular was at the ANZ Events center in the viaduct, on this occasion all I was hoping for was a couple of reasonable shots however it was all quite peaceful with all the protesters and the police down one end. One protester was checking out the security fence right out in front of the center some twenty meters away from all the comotion down the other end whe he discovered the two meter high fence was not secured to anything and when he pulled on it it started to fall down upon seeing this two others ran over to help and the whole thirty meter fence fell over and all the protsters were just milling around not wishing to get involved in the confrontation at the other end had the opportunity to simply walk in the front door. Considerable panic ensued as the police, security and the rest of the protesters ran to the now exposed front door. There was one lonley female police officer standing where what was a two meter covered fence ws now on her own against thirty or so protesters. There was considerable pushing and shoving which resulted in the protesters taking control of the main enterance. I got a great shot of her face as the crowd ran at her. There was significant preasure on the police that day and I was impressed at the way they remained calm and well behaved while under considerable abuse both verbal and physical. I photographed one policeman being punched in the head and saw no retaliation at all, not sure I would act that way if someone hit me like that.
I found most people receptive to a photo althougth some were a bit grumpy. When I asked sometimes the answer was F#ck off, I would just smile and thank then give them my card and walk away.I learnt not to be to hasty in walking away as on a number of ocassions they would change their mind as curiosity got the better of them. They would than approach me and apologise then enquire as to what it was all about. My standard answer was it was nothing mean or nasty and likened to a person collecting stamps except I collected photos of people on Queen Street. Once this was estblished the next question would be where do you want me to stand ?. I found younger women say sixteen to mid to late twentys the most accommodating and friendly. Ocasionally the person I approached was younger than I first thought and her mother would appear from nowhere to enquire as to what I was up to, once explained the answer was normally yes and some requested copies for there own use. Others were already modeling for various publications.I purposely seldom took photos of yong people or children as I did't feel comfortable doing it.The older women I approacher always seemed scared or startled and were not as friendly or open with many being rude or agressive. Maybe as they approached thirty plus their life experiences had made them more suspicious of older white men and and were less open.Looking back I guess my outward aperance may not have helped.
Generally most people were quite friendly especially around both ends of the spectrum, was I guess they were happy where they were in life and equally happy within themselves.These were the people who were generally the most fun to talk to and probably the most honest in their conversations with me. These discussions were often quite revealing ranging over wide range of topics from drug use, prison records, occupations, and a whole raft of subjects.One favorite was a young lady I stopped randomly and confessed to me that her Dad was working in PNG for a while and started another family had children alternating with each partner. She went on to tell me her brothers and sisters call themselves the piano family because James my oldest brother has white skin, Natasha my sister has dark skin, Sam my brother has white skin then Darryl my brother has dark skin and I (the youngest) have white skin so we look like the keys on a piano when we stand together in chronological order.Her mother, fortunately, didn't hate on her Dad and his other family all moved to NZ. She went on to tell me that he whole family get on really well together and she loves her step-brothers and that we often take holidays together and meet for special occasions.
I met a number of transgender people whle wandering around Queen Street who I found to be very plesant and open. A number are very photogenic and occasions like the Parade on Ponsonby road and the opening of Priscilla Queen of the Desert always produced some spactacular and colorful photos. There was one young lady who was always imacculate, long blond hair, long painted nails, high heeled shoes, imaculate makeup, a wonderful figure, stunning. I would walk with her up Queen Street noticing all the admiring glances as we went. Many of my mates would see us together and comment on her looks and what was an old bugger like me doing with a girl like that, my reply was normally, just lucky I guess.
I found over time people on the street became more accepting of me and after the operation was successful my mood changed I got a haircut, and smartened my self up a bit. I purchased a nice suit jacket from the Salvation Army shop for $20 a hat and a dozen or more very bright scarfs from a shop in K road which I wore all through winter. I am unsure what people thought of me going from a scruffy bugger to quite a dapper gentleman wearing almost fluro attire. Someone commented that because of my colours they thought I was gay! Bright pink, purple, orange, yellow and green were my favourites. This had no affect on the guys on the street as they knew me by now and don't really think they cared what I looked like. I guess at this stage I was "hiding in plain sight" and most regulars on Queen Street knew me.
I was back on Queen Street early september 2018 talking to a few of the regulars and noticed synnies were still in plentiful supply and witnessed deals personally hapening in plain sight on the street. There were also instances of users passed out just off Queen Street, the more things change the more they stay the same I guess
After nearly six years on Queen Street I have left Auckland however I miss the street and all the characters I met.