Rudman's city: Iconic sign to be restored for old time's sake

By BRIAN RUDMAN

Advertising hoardings are not my favourite part of the urban landscape. But like most people who have got to know the Ponsonby area in recent times, I make an exception when it comes to the Bushells sign atop the old Rupa family store in Freemans Bay.

The dilapidated shop with its sagging verandas and fading old sign was, until its rebuild began, a nostalgia flashback to a childhood where the tea was loose and the grocer scooped biscuits out of bins into brown paper bags.

This morning, sadly, this old link with the past comes down. But the good news is, within a few weeks the sign will be back in place, almost as good as new.

I say almost as good because, in the interests of illusion, the restored - or should we say recreated - sign will be deliberately aged. Just how old it will end up looking, those involved are not too sure. But everyone agrees it shouldn't look gleamingly, full glossily, brand new.

Why, you might ask, go to all this bother? For Dilip Rupa it's something of a labour of love. His parents bought the store, complete with sign, back in 1953. Over the years the family battled public authorities who variously eyed the site for motorways, urban renewal and school expansion.

In 1968, his mother Rewa gained fame by sitting in front of a bulldozer to stop Education Department work next door that was threatening the shop's foundations.

Mr Rupa is now rebuilding the shop from the ground up. He sees the sign as an integral part of the exercise.

This is great news to Auckland City heritage manager George Farrant, who says that while the shop and sign are not scheduled buildings, they do have "iconic value to the community." In recognition of this, Mr Farrant says the city was willing to bend the rules as far as the rebuild was concerned, in return for the sign being restored.

For Mr Farrant, the recent restorer of the Civic Theatre, the Bushells sign is a significant landmark in the same league as the Sky Tower, One Tree Hill and the Museum - one of those rare icons that Aucklanders instantly recognise and identify with. The community, he says, would be worse off if it disappeared.

Which thanks to Mr Rupa, it will not - or will, according to how much of a purist you are when it comes to preserving things.

For the problem is, after more than 55 years in the rain and ultraviolet rays, not an awful lot of the actual sign is left. Gazing up at the remains yesterday, one had to fill in the gaps with lots of imagination.

Also somewhat suspect are the weatherboards on which it was painted. Mr Farrant fears they are rotten beyond saving. Mr Rupa and his signwriter, Rod White of Brave Design, are more optimistic. Mr White reckons that having lasted this long it's probably heart rimu and good for a few more kilometres. Today they'll find out.

The plan is to remove the weatherboards, three at time, cutting the studs to avoid splitting the boards. Back at Brave Design's Henderson studio, the sign will be reassembled.

The old lead paint will be removed, any rotten wood replaced, the wood coated with a preservative, and painting begun. Thanks to digital photography, a perfect copy of the original hand-painted sign, mistakes and all, is available as a template.

Paint samples have been analysed to perfect the colours. Mr White says they will try to "antique" the colours as they apply them, introducing a few deliberate imperfections with techniques such as rag-rolling.

Mr Farrant, who has been known to dig his toes in when others suggest faking it, is relaxed about the present exercise. Perhaps if it were the Sistine Chapel and we had $15 million there might be a case for an authentic restoration, he says. But "it's more realistic if we realise the sign doesn't so much have intrinsic value in itself, but visual iconic value."

He says as long as it doesn't look new, the public will quickly forget that the restored building is a replica, and just see it as being there again.

I'm hoping he's right.