By Roselyn Fauth
As we prepare to unveil the new monument honouring those who lie in the Free Ground and in unmarked graves in the wider Timaru Cemetery, I have been curious about who some of the people are who rest there. I pulled up the Timaru District Council website, searched for those in Row 0, and put their burials into chronological order. They have no physical markers. No families noted. Just names, ages, and dates online whose burials were assisted by the government.
These were the men and women who fell through the cracks in those early years — the ones with no money, no relatives nearby, or no one willing or able to pay for a burial. Then, out of curiosity, I typed each of their names into Papers Past. I would like to share what I found in Papers Past, about Cornelius O’Connor, buried on 14 July 1863, Row 0, Free Ground, Timaru Cemetery.
He is is one of the earliest recorded government-assisted burials in Timaru, along with: George Miller, 30, buried 27 February 1863, William Peters, 37, buried 18 April 1863, Cornelius Connor, 30, buried 14 July 1863, Joseph Ashe Day, 49, buried 21 July 1863, John Hammond, 47, buried 19 September 1863.
I expected just a death notice, but I found a full Supreme Court murder trial, a night of terror at an accommodation house on the road to Washdyke, and the voices of ordinary people caught in a moment that none of them could undo — all preserved in the pages of the Press and Lyttelton Times.
These men lived hard, itinerant lives in a young settlement. Their deaths passed with little ceremony. Telling O’Connor’s story today restores the dignity of a life that might otherwise remain only a line in a ledger.
His story — which begins in a wooden hotel on a winter’s night — is one of the earliest recorded "row 0" deaths in Timaru to require government assistance for burial. I think it reveals far more about early South Canterbury than a name on a map ever could... I a hunt for history at my local cemetery is more than the interesting headstones, its the un marked humps and hollows too.
This is his story, pieced together entirely from newspaper reports.
Author’s Note: This story has been pieced together from historic newspaper accounts and Timaru Cemetery records. It is shared with respect for all involved, and with the intention of honouring those early residents of Timaru who rest without a marked grave. Any interpretation reflects the evidence available in the 1860s newspapers and is offered in a spirit of remembrance, not judgement. Before I found the court reports or the grim details in the witness statements, all I knew about the two men at the centre of this story were the barest facts.
One was a name in a burial register: Cornelius O’Connor, aged 30, buried 14 July 1863 in Row 0, Free Ground, Timaru Cemetery.
The other was a name in the newspapers: George Lumley, the man later tried for killing him.
Nothing else. Not their families. Not their backgrounds. Not their work, their hopes, or their struggles. Just two names — one in a cemetery list, one in a court column — whose lives collided inside a small wooden accommodation house on the road to Washdyke.
A Winter Night at Mason’s Accommodation House
Mason’s Accommodation House stood beside the early road to Washdyke Creek — a simple timber building offering beds to travellers heading north or south along the coast. It wasn’t grand or comfortable, but in 1863 it was one of the few places where a working man could find shelter, a fire, and company.
On Friday 10 July 1863, five people were there:
- George Mason, the owner
- Cornelius O’Connor, a labourer aged around 30
- George Lumley, also around 30
- Thomas Henry MacMahon, a labourer
- Walter Whittaker, a teenage servant boy
The newspapers describe a typical winter evening: the men sat in the kitchen talking, warming themselves by the fire, taking an occasional glass of grog. Mason served a “nobbler” of spirits, but witnesses agreed that none of the men appeared drunk. There was no sign of trouble brewing.
Still, small irritations arose — a mention of cigars, a heated remark about £75, and perhaps some misunderstanding or teasing. Later witnesses could not even remember the full details. They all agreed that nothing seemed serious.
Shortly after ten o’clock, Mason showed the men to their beds:
- MacMahon to a small bedroom
- Whittaker to his own tiny room
- O’Connor to a sofa-bed in the sitting room
- Lumley to a small room adjoining the same space.
There was one candle burning. Mason removed a light from O’Connor’s room to prevent fire risk and then retired to his own room, believing the house was settling for the night. Within minutes, it wasn’t.
A Sudden Altercation
The witness statements printed in the Lyttelton Times tell a remarkably consistent story.
Lumley stepped out of his bedroom into the sitting room and sat on the edge of the table. O’Connor, half undressed in bed, spoke to him about the earlier disagreement over cigars. Words were exchanged. O’Connor rose, walked around the table, and gave Lumley a blow to the face — not heavy, but not light either.
Whittaker heard Lumley say quietly: “He’s struck me, and I’m too old to return it.”
No one reported Lumley yelling or retaliating. MacMahon, witnessing the blow, advised them both to go to bed. He then stepped back into his room. Whittaker continued undressing with the bedroom door partly open, keeping half an eye on the light in the sitting room.
Only a minute or two passed. Then, as both newspapers report: “A loud cry of ‘Murder!’ rang through the house.” Whittaker and MacMahon ran from their rooms. In the dim light spilling from the sitting room candle, they saw O’Connor and Lumley struggling near the back door. In the scuffle, O’Connor was badly injured. Lumley held a knife.
MacMahon demanded he hand it over, calling out: “Your knife or your life!” Lumley immediately surrendered the knife and pleaded: “Spare my life.”
O’Connor slipped past him into the house and fell onto MacMahon’s bed. Whittaker stood stunned. Mason was called from his room. A messenger galloped to Timaru for the doctor.
Despite the efforts of those present, O’Connor’s injuries were too severe. He died the next morning, Saturday 12 July 1863.
Lumley Leaves Washdyke
At dawn, Lumley left the accommodation house and walked north along the road. Several hours later, he arrived at the Arowhenua Accommodation House, where he confessed that he had stabbed a man who struck him twice during a quarrel. According to the hotel keeper, he said he was sorry, adding that “it was too late to say anything now”.
Police found him at the Point Accommodation House, eight miles away, exactly where he said he would be. He did not resist arrest.
The Supreme Court Trial at Lyttelton
The trial took place nearly two months later, on 7 September 1863, before Justice Gresson. The courtroom was full, and the entire proceedings were printed in the Lyttelton Times, making this one of the most detailed early South Canterbury court records we possess.
The Crown’s case
- The Crown Prosecutor argued:
- Lumley inflicted three stab wounds
- At least one wound was fatal
- The attack followed only minor provocation
- Therefore the killing was murder
The Defence’s case
- Lumley’s barristers argued:
- He was timid and easily frightened
- He was physically struck first
- He acted in panic during a sudden struggle
- He was overwhelmed, confused, and not acting with malice
- They emphasised repeatedly that Lumley had no previous quarrel, no motive, and no history of violence.
The Judge’s direction
Justice Gresson told the jury that their task was not to decide whether Lumley caused O’Connor’s death — this was clear — but whether the act was committed with malice (murder) or in a moment of passion or fear (manslaughter).
He reminded them of the stakes. In 1863, a conviction for murder meant execution by hanging. After half an hour of deliberation, the jury returned their verdict: Not guilty of murder. Guilty of manslaughter. This verdict saved Lumley’s life.
Lumley was sentenced to three years’ hard labour, beginning 1 September. After serving his time, he disappears from the historical record — another itinerant worker who left one trace in official memory.
A unmarked Grave listed in Row 0
Cornelius O’Connor was buried on 14 July 1863 in the Free Ground at the Timaru Cemetery. With no family recorded, no estate, and no money for burial, the cost was covered by the provincial government — making him one of the earliest people in Timaru known to receive such assistance.
Today, all that marks his existence is: a name, an age, a date, and a line in the online cemetery records
But his final night — preserved in the pages of the Press and Lyttelton Times — reveals far more about early South Canterbury than many of the headstones in the cemetery.
Questions Still Waiting for Answers - Would you like to Join the History Hunt?
For those who enjoy a history side-quest, several mysteries remain:
- Who was Cornelius O’Connor before that night at Washdyke?
- Was he Irish, English, or Scottish?
- Where had he last worked?
- Did he have family overseas who never learned what became of him?
- What became of George Lumley once he left prison?
- Did either man appear in shipping lists, station ledgers, or parish records?
- What stories lie behind the other early Row 0 burials — the George Millers, William Peters, Joseph Day, and John Hammond?
Every unmarked grave is more than a place where a life ended — it is a reminder that every person, named or unnamed, has a story worth searching for.
Sources:
MURDER AT THE WASHDYKE NEAR TIMARU.
Lyttelton Times, Volume XX, Issue 1115, 18 July 1863, Page 5
CHRISTCHURCH.
Press, Volume III, Issue 257, 27 August 1863, Page 2
SUPREME COURT. Lyttelton Times, Volume XX, Issue 1130, 9 September 1863, Page 4
TIMARU. Press, Volume III, Issue 221, 16 July 1863, Page 3
SUPREME COURT. Press, Volume III, Issue 267, 8 September 1863, Page 2