It could be the very same cannon that lobbed 6lb shells across what's now Cameron Road into the garrisons of Ngai Te Rangi at Pukehinahina 150 years ago.

It's a simple and beautiful piece of engineering, but at the same time a fiendish and evil damned thing.

The cannon that helped shape a city: TCC Heritage manager Dean Flavell with the 1800s Armstrong gun. Photo by Chris Callinan.

And here I am touching it. What a privilege! Running the fingers around the muzzle and the rifling, which ensured the shells from the Armstrong cannon flew further and truer.

'When the man from the Imperial War Museum saw the cannon, he got so excited,” says Dean Flavell, the Tauranga City Council's cultural heritage manager.

He probably wanted it. But the booty man from the Imperial War Museum went home with only photos and memories, even though he's descended from the imperialist land grabbers who once owned the cannon and used it against our own.

Now it's my cannon, it's my treasure. But it's also your cannon – yours as a ratepayer of this city.

The difference being I could see it and touch it. You may never get that experience.

That's because the cannon is in an unexhibited exhibition. It's one of 30,000-plus artefacts which lie beneath dust covers, in boxes, on shelves and out of sight in a secure warehouse at Mount Manganui.

The city fathers have shied away from the politically unpalatable issue of a museum. They preside over a city which wants a museum, but won't pay for it. No votes there.

So this reporter is one of a privileged few who have seen Tauranga's treasures?

'You certainly are. This is most unusual, most unusual,” says Dean.

I do feel special. But it almost didn't happen – I had to inveigle my way in.

I requested a tour of the 1000m2 storage facility so I could tell you, the ratepayer, what's there. You have a right to know what you own.

Tour cancelled

The Tauranga City Council apologised and said, 'No tour”. Why not? The communications department tells me, 'Staff feel vulnerable. The artefacts are quite political. They don't want to draw attention to themselves.”

There's a sweetener though – would I like to see some swimsuits that have been pulled for loan from the National Maritime Museum in Auckland?

Swimsuits? Really?

'Surely ratepayers have a vested interest in knowing what's there,” I tell them. 'It would assist informed opinion on the museum proposal. They are fobbed off with swimsuits. I am sure they would find that insulting.”

I implore them. 'Surely someone at city hall can unlock the facility for the benefit of those who own the artefacts. Please reconsider.”

A member of the council appointed museum steering group, Graeme Purches, says it has nothing to do with the curators, but everything to do with the politicians.

'Many in council are reluctant to let the public see what's in the collection, probably because better knowledge could mean increased support for the project.”

In default of as tour, I fire off a list of questions. How many, how much, who, what how etc? It comes back to me that for some unfathomable reason my email has been passed around elected members.

But it works. One day soon after I find myself outside a warehouse in Mount Maunganui.

NZ's Fort Knox

It's conspicuous only in its anonymity. It's the only warehouse or factory in the street that's not sign written, not identified. But Fort Knox probably doesn't have neon signs either.

The city council remains on high sensitivity alert. I am alone – a reporter with pencil and notebook ready to look, learn and inform.

He council sends its ‘hired guns', five of them. What did they think I was going to do?

There were spokespeople from several departments and then the two people I did need to talk to: aforementioned Dean, manager of cultural heritage, and Fiona Kean, cultural heritage coordinator.

Dean's a kind of museum curator – but he's not, because he doesn't have a museum.

'I am passionate about history, about people knowing where they come from and a sense of belonging. And it doesn't matter whether you have been here centuries or five minutes, you need to know the history of the place.”

History like that, lying in a sturdy, thermostatically controlled cardboard box that he opens with gloved hands. It is a water bailer – from a canoe – pulled out of the Lakes area and carbon dated at 700 years old.

'Oh yes, precious. Absolutely. Nothing else remotely like it.”

Of course it should be in a museum and it should be viewable. But forever the diplomat, Dean says, 'I have no control over that.”

Uncovering our treasures

There's more history, working history, like the delightfully restored 1948 Austin van which sputtered up and down The Strand delivering pies and bread. And the peace stone – the Te Arawa of Maketu and the local Ngai Te Rangi had been scrapping, skirmishing and slaughtering for 10 years.

The restored Austin that used to deliver pies and bread along The Strand

When they eventually sat down for a little conflict resolution in Otumoetai they laid down a stone to mark the spot and the occasion. The fact the stone was chopped up for a backdoor step is irrelevant.

'Three quarters of the history remains. And it opened up Tauranga as a peaceful place to live,” says Dean.

The bowls, Maori bowls – now they're fascinating. While Sir Francis Drake kept the Spanish Armada waiting with a roll-up at Plymouth Hoe, Ngai Te Rangi were playing ‘inter-tribe' down Devonport Road.

Maori had little stone wheels which they tossed down a marked track. The farthest and the straightest was the winner. So that's where Millie Khan got it from.

'The artefacts are locked up, but we don't want the stories locked up,” says one of the suits.

That's why they came up with ‘Hands-on Tauranga' – it's an object library where schools can order in artefacts. It gives kids access to a museum when there isn't one.

And there's the two shipping containers which have housed the extraordinarily successful WWI exhibitions. Another is due – this time the role of wartime nurses. It only confirms an appetite for our history.

The storage facility is chockablock with absorbing stories about who we are and where we're from. To have it sitting in storage costs you and I $105,000 a year for the lease, plus insurance, wages, upkeep of artefacts maintenance and restorations. It is not cheap have exhibits which are not exhibited.

'A favourite piece? I love it all,” says Dean, a deeply committed and passionate man.

And I am sure we would all love it all if we could only get in to see it.

'It's not that it's closed,” says Dean. 'Researchers and their like are allowed in.”

But it's not open either and that's a scandalous shame.