The Great New Zealand Robbery

by Scott Bainbridge

  ‘This is it,’ Haywood said. ‘He got through here.’

  Detective Sergeant Mathieson looked at his watch. ‘If he’s run, he can’t have made much ground. We’ll get the dog to track him.’

  No sooner were the words out of the detective’s mouth than the skies delivered on their promise of rain. It began to pour.

  ‘Lucky bastard,’ someone commented. ‘The dog won’t pick up a scent now.’

  — — —

  Police descended upon Mount Eden Prison and roadblocks were set up at a radius of 6 miles (9.7 kilometres) and on all major routes out of Auckland. It was not yet known how Nash left the area, but it was assumed he had an accomplice waiting in a car parked on Normanby Road, outside the Colonial Ammunition Company.

  Workers heading home in any direction on Friday afternoon experienced delays as police checked the rear seats and boots of all motor vehicles moving out of the city. At the Harbour Bridge toll plaza, buses were stopped and searched. Detective Sergeant Irving and Detective Constable Stewart drove out to Auckland Airport (at Whenuapai in those days) to check the passenger lists and to observe each embarkation. Beat constables in central Auckland went to the bus terminal and train station to observe all commuters; Wharf Police secured the wharves and boarded all outgoing vessels.

  Detective Ron Chadwick was assigned with heading to 8 Bridge Street on the chance Nash would go home.

  By the time I arrived there, Maria Nash had been informed about the escape and that Trevor was on the run. She was quite fearful about the possibility he would come home. She was very hospitable and understood why I was there. She made herself busy the whole time looking after the children. I waited in the lounge, clutching my service revolver. The thought crossed my mind he might burst in with a machine gun and I would have stood no chance. There was a lot of activity outside, with police cars going up and down the street. Then, after the news officially broke, the street became a hive of activity. It became in those few days one of the busiest streets in Auckland. From what I gather, Maria truly feared him coming back. There had been a relationship breakdown somewhere along the lines, but she would not say exactly why.

  Teletypes in police stations all around the country ran hot. News of the escape was broadcast on late-night television—the first time news of a prison escape had been broadcast by this medium.The New Zealand Herald ran a front-page article under the headline ‘£19,000 Payroll Thief: Man Cuts Through Gaol Fence to Freedom’ that outlined the early details of the escape, describing Nash being 32 years, 5 feet 9 inches, of fresh complexion, and with black hair and hazel eyes. When last seen, he was wearing dark charcoal trousers, a Harris tweed coat and—inexplicably—a silk cravat, and carrying an attaché case. The escape captured nationwide attention, and for a time Nash became the nation’s most talked-about man. Few people knew anything about the Waterfront payroll robbery—probably due to the lack of publicity—and many early reports of the escape erroneously referred to him as a bank robber. In any case, the story of his criminal offending was secondary, if not irrelevant, to his daring escape.

  Nash’s photograph was handed out to every beat constable in Auckland and circulated to all police stations in the country. Newspapers were asked to print a paragraph and run his photograph each day until he was caught in the hope it would be engrained in the minds of the public and he would be quickly found. The roadblocks remained in place over the weekend and every available officer was tasked with making enquiries on the streets and with their informants. Few doubted he would be found quite smartly.

  Detective Sergeant Thomas Irving, who had led the Waterfront payroll robbery inquiry team, was placed in charge of investigating the escape and of apprehending Nash. While every police officer in the country was expected to make their own enquiries in the line of their ordinary duties to assist with locating Nash, the chief detective was reluctant to place a full complement of detectives on the case. In the end, two men—Detective Constable Bill Brien and CIB plainclothes officer Constable John Hughes—were tasked with investigating the escape and with following up all leads and sightings.

  Inside Mount Eden Prison, an inquiry into the escape began immediately. Superintendent Haywood was furious: he regarded any escape as a personal affront. The La Mattina fiasco the previous year had been embarrassing enough, but at least in that case the prisoner had remained on prison grounds. This time, a prisoner had virtually walked out of the front door.

  Guards and prisoners who had been working outside that Friday afternoon were interviewed. Hofker and Taylor were the only ones to have had close contact with Nash, and they stated he was largely confined to the engineering workshop the whole afternoon, apart from a number of points at which he was outside unsupervised carrying stacks of angle-iron. The longest period of time he was out of sight was ten to fifteen minutes.

  Guard Beaver, who had been supervising a party of prisoners working on concrete posts, reported that he noticed Nash behind the concrete-post shed about 50 yards (45 metres) from the fence at around 2.45 pm. It was out of the ordinary for him to be in that area, but he looked busy and Beaver assumed he was there in relation to whatever he was doing in the engineering shop. Nash was next seen in the engineering shop at 3.10 pm, when Taylor left to begin the shower relay for the outside workers. It was surmised that each time Nash had cause to head outside that afternoon, he sidled over to the wire fence and gradually snipped an opening big enough to squeeze through.

  It was thought that, after Taylor left to supervise the shower relay, Nash deliberately brought in the wrong type of iron, expecting to be sent outside again to restack it. This would have given him a useful period of unsupervised time outside before Hofker sounded the siren to finish work at 3.15 pm. He might have been dismayed when Hofker told him simply to stack the steel inside, but when Hofker dashed off to sound the knock-off signal Nash seized his opportunity. Even though he would have known that the comfortable margin allowed for in his original plan had vanished, he must have decided to make his break after all.

  He would have sprinted out of the engineering shop to the back of the quarry crusher shed and along the 108-yard (98-metre) stretch to the wire compound fence. There was little risk of being spotted from the prison buildings, as there was a high wooden fence blocking his route from view. He could have been sighted from the number-three tower lookout, but Guard Rozenboom had left his post fifteen minutes earlier than he was supposed to at 3.30 pm, in order to head across to the number-two lookout to count in nine prisoners who were returning to the cell house. The investigation found that it was accepted practice for guards on this shift to leave their posts a few minutes earlier than scheduled so that prisoners didn’t have to stand about, waiting to be readmitted, for too long. The effect, however, was that when Nash ran across the open ground in full view of number-three tower lookout there was no one there to see him. Nash may have been observing their movements over a period of time and knew that this flaw allowed him a window of opportunity. He may also have guessed that the alarm, sounding as it did so soon after the routine test, would be disregarded by the police and perhaps even by many of the prison staff. It’s hard to say how much was luck and how much was meticulous planning. Either way, everything worked in his favour.

  He had already created an opening through to the Colonial Ammunition Company yard next door. All he had to do when he reached it was wriggle through and he was free.

  — — —

  Investigators confirmed the cut in the prison wire fence had been made by a pair of tin snips. An inventory was carried out in the various prison workshops and a pair of snips was found to be missing from the tinsmith’s shop, which was situated 53 yards (48 metres) from the engineering shop. Nash didn’t have access to this shop, so he must have had inside help. The four prisoners who worked in the tinsmith’s shop that Friday afternoon were interviewed, but all denied having anything to do with Nash.

  It was hard to prove otherwise. Throughout his imprisonment, Nash had conspicu
ously preferred to keep himself to himself and was not known to go out of his way to befriend other inmates. He generally only talked to a few fellow inmates, and only when spoken to first. He rarely turned down requests for legal advice from other prisoners wanting to appeal their sentences, but he tended to steer them in the right direction of assistance rather than take up their cause himself. He became even more reclusive after the public examination into his financial affairs. He had no known friends or associates, and prison authorities were at a loss to know who could have assisted him in his escape.

  With cooperation from Superintendent Haywood, Detective Sergeant Irving with Brien and Hughes began making enquiries within the prison. The inmates who worked with Nash in the engineering shop were interviewed, as were those with cells on either side of him. None had anything to offer.

  Prison informers snitched that Nash had been on friendly terms with Edward Horton, and that Horton had helped him. Horton was doing life for committing a violent rape and murder on Mount Victoria in 1948—a crime that may have spurred Jack Marshall’s support for the death penalty in the electoral campaign a year later. Horton had become a model prisoner and he was eventually allowed out on supervised trips as part of a sports team. In December 1955, he slipped away while competing at the Mount Albert Indoor Bowls tournament, and for the three days that he remained at large Auckland residents were warned to lock their doors lest he rape again. The escape caused a huge public outcry and Marshall, then Minister of Justice, stopped all outside privileges for murderers and imposed severe restrictions on others.35 Horton was interviewed over Nash’s escape and merely sneered at police, refusing to say whether or not he was involved.

  — — —

  Irving conferred with the recently promoted Detective Senior Sergeant Schultz, because there was every chance that Nash was being harboured by criminals on the outside—his fellow robbers, perhaps, or trusted associates. All agreed that they should go through the investigation file for the Waterfront Industry Commission robbery and draw up a list of likely conspirators with a view to going knocking on doors. Just as they were busying themselves with this task, Irving was summoned into the office of Chief Detective Hill, who showed him a copy of that morning’s Herald. Superintendent Haywood had been interviewed and was quoted saying that Nash had received outside assistance in his escape and was being hidden somewhere in the city by criminals. He had no definite ideas on whether the escape had been planned in advance, he said, but added, ‘I think he had somebody to contact when he got clear.’36 Haywood stopped short of revealing whom he suspected, but Irving looked at the chief.

  ‘I already got the call,’ he said. ‘Apparently the superintendent saw Gus Parsons loitering outside the prison yesterday morning and believes he might’ve aided Nash.’

  — — —

  Late Saturday morning, Detective Sergeant Irving called over to Haywood’s house near the prison to formalise Haywood’s statement. Haywood attested that around 10.25 am on Friday morning—the day of the escape—he had spotted Gus Parsons hanging around outside the prison. He had some suspicions because he had noticed Parsons loitering outside the prison a few months earlier, on the day a prisoner named Bennett had broken out. He was convinced at the time that Parsons had something to do with it.

  It was an association Irving could not discount, particularly as Parsons’ name figured prominently in the Waterfront payroll robbery, despite the fact he was in prison at the time. He had boasted to several prisoners of organising the heist, and had offered to name names in return for shaving some months from his lag, until unknown inmates cornered him and made him change his mind. The Modus Operandi group investigated a possible alliance between Nash and Parsons. It was not definitely known whether they were friends or associates. Both were in prison at the same time, but that is where the commonalities ended. Nash was a loner, staunch and silent, whereas Parsons was a big-noter and would sing like a canary.

  Still, on the night after the escape, CIB received an anonymous call in which someone growled, ‘If you want the bully on Nash, watch Parsons, Layton and Over!’ The caller hung up, but two hours later he rang back and repeated his message.

  — — —

  For Parsons, the year of the Waterfront payroll robbery, 1956, was the year when everything turned to shit. When his stuff-up brought Māori Mac’s firm down like dominos, Parsons found himself in the awkward position of having to give evidence. He was faced with Hobson’s choice: if he kept his trap shut, things would go against him in his own upcoming trial, but if he turned fizz he had little doubt MacDonald would kill him. Parsons tried to wriggle out of the situation by hustling Pennell and McDonnell, two mugs who owed him money, to take the rap, but they dogged on the stand. Parsons chose the lesser of two evils and refused to sing. After all, there was no way to avoid Mac, as Parsons was due back in court to answer for the copper-wiring venture. He was settling into a five-year stretch when the Waterfront payroll robbery went down. When Nash was imprisoned a year later, the pair shared the same block, although they weren’t observed to spend much—if any—time in one another’s company.

  Parsons was released in 1960. Atlas Motors had folded in 1957 after Archie Banks was found guilty of 24 charges of false pretences. When Atlas Motors had got into financial difficulties, Banks had turned to a complex system of double financing and false hire-purchase arrangements to obtain £3800 from Unity Trading Company.37 Upon release, Parsons set up a wooden-toy manufacturing business on Dominion Road with Percy Over, and while police suspected this was yet another front for organised crime through money laundering they couldn’t prove it.

  The other man mentioned in the anonymous phone calls to police was Foster Layton, who was then in prison serving time for forgery.

  Police began looking at Gus Parsons’ firm, which comprised Over, Layton, George Pennell and Norma West, the moll of Aussie gangster Robert ‘Jacky’ Steele, who was out of prison in Sydney with plans for his next scheme and looking at re-establishing links in New Zealand. Gus was allegedly Steele’s right-hand man.

  — — —

  The morning after the tip-off, police received another call. A roadman, an ex-prisoner, stated he had been on road-works duty in Newton, when Gus Parsons drove out of East Street in a Land Rover. When the car stopped, the roadman leaned in to chat but the usually gregarious Parsons seemed in no mood to talk and wasted no time in driving on when the sign flipped round—but not before the roadman had caught a glimpse of the passenger, who turned quickly away from him and didn’t utter a word. The roadman told police he thought the passenger looked like Trevor Nash dressed as a woman. This was enough for CIB to despatch a vehicle and, later that afternoon, police pulled Parsons and a female passenger over on Symonds Street.

  The passenger was a woman. She was Parsons’ latest girlfriend, a widow named Phyllis Bailey, and the description given of her was far from flattering. ‘Her buffed shoulder-length black hair has the appearance of a wig as it is dull and lustreless,’ the report read, and, ‘she has the misfortune of having facial features resembling that of Trevor Nash.’ Mrs Bailey’s husband had been a cargo worker who was killed in an industrial accident on the waterfront in 1960 when the crane he was in toppled over. Mrs Bailey stood to receive £10,000 in compensation and insurance and it was rumoured Parsons was more interested in the money than in Mrs Bailey herself.

  Parsons was cooperative but regretted that he could not assist with enquiries. He agreed to make himself available at CIB for further questioning and was followed at a discreet distance to 27 Tawariki Street in Ponsonby, where Phyllis Bailey lived. At this time, police received another anonymous call alleging Nash was hiding out at 10 Weld Street, a house owned by Gus Parsons. The detective tailing Parsons was redirected and met Sergeant Davies outside. There they found a party in full swing. A drunk and abusive Norma West opened the door and told them to fuck off, but they forced their way inside, thrusting a search warrant in her face. They didn’t find Nash but apprehended anot
her fellow who was wanted for arrest.

  Parsons was interviewed by Detective Constable Brien and admitted he had been at C&A Odlin Timber Company near the prison on Friday morning to purchase timber. As he was leaving, he ran into Richard Champion, a trusty assigned to work in Superintendent Haywood’s garden. The pair talked briefly and Parsons offered Champion a packet of tobacco, which Champion declined. He was one month shy of parole and didn’t want to jeopardise it by being found with contraband.

  After interviewing Parsons a short time later, Brien reported:

  It is unlikely that Nash would confide in Parsons, as he is well known to talk loosely. Parsons did admit he was approached to act as a cover for Nash, but declined, as he does not want to appear again, as he is liable to preventive detention. Parsons did proffer leads where Nash was likely to be hidden. These were found to be worthless and it is likely Parsons is trying to make an impression for himself, although the possibility remains that he could have some knowledge of the whereabouts of Nash.

  CHAPTER 12

  MANHUNT

  The investigation team of Detective Sergeant Irving, Detective Constable Brien and Constable Hughes assisted by Detective Senior Sergeant Schultz spent Saturday and Sunday interviewing all prisoners thought to have any association with Nash who might have known or even assisted in his escape. No one said a word.