The donkeys were Taffy Davies' idea of course. The same Taffy Davies with the gammy leg after he copped a bullet in the thigh at Gallipoli. He was a canny bloke.

'An entrepreneur is how you would describe him,” says son Taffy junior. 'He knew the power of a penny.” There's both disbelief and a deep respect here. 'I could tell you a few stories.”

Taffy Davies junior looks through his past photograhs. Photo: Tracy Hardy.

And this is one of them, the story of one of Taffy's enterprises - donkey rides on Mount Maunganui's Main Beach.

The donkeys were ‘Snowy' and ‘Brownie' for obvious reasons, and the grey ‘Murphy' and ‘Smithy'. 'They were named after Dad's mates in Gallipoli that didn't come back.”

But their memory lived on in four-legged, big-eared, braying namesakes. That was Taffy's way, and people were charmed.

So why has this story surfaced nearly 80 years later? Probably because of a photograph on pages 144 and 145 of Alf Rendell and Fiona Kean's new book ‘Rendell's Tauranga - Historic Tauranga From Above.'

It's a photo of Snowy, Murphy, Smithy and Brownie. They have history, and donkeys are blessed with a cute factor as big as their reputation for stubbornness.

Taffy and his brother Jim on the famed donkeys.

Taffy senior used to watch the summer excursion trains pull into Mt Maunganui, where the police station on Salisbury Avenue is today. 'Each train would deliver 1,700 holidaymakers. They also delivered a business opportunity, and Dad twigged on to it.”

Taffy senior bought four donkeys which had been wandering Ponui Island in the Hauraki Gulf, for five pounds each. They had to be hogtied and craned aboard a longboat before a Union Steamship vessel to Tauranga.

'Thruppence a ride. And four donkeys means four thruppences, which is a shilling,” says Taffy.

That's right, every time the donkeys went down the beach, around Donkey Rock and back, it was a shilling. And the money mounted up. 'That's how Dad's mind worked.”

Taffy, the ideas man, was a hands-off donkey ride operator, mainly because of his injury. 'Brother Jim ran them with Mum's help. She loved them.”

'Jim would take the donkeys down the beach at 10 o'clock in the morning and come home whenever. He had 350 pounds in the bank when he left primary school.” That was a lot of money at the time.

But Taffy would never let them spend any money. It had to be banked with the Post Office in Tauranga. He didn't want everyone in small town Mount Maunganui knowing how much they had in the bank.

They also saved money on fences, which meant Snowy, Murphy, Smithy, and Brownie free ranged. And with freedom, they would always make a beeline for the campsite.

'When everyone was down at the beach, the donkeys would go into a tent and forage for bread, onions, or cabbage.” Taffy says it was embarrassing, but holidaymakers just treated it as a wonderful story to take home.

The donkeys sussed out another good eatery. The proprietor of the Mount Hotel had a lovely vegetable garden, and the donkeys knew exactly where to go.

'Dad would send me down on my bike to head them off. The proprietor would always give me a burst, and Dad would never come with me.”

Taffy goes from one donkey story to another. One of them died. 'Wandered off a cliff or something,” says Taffy.

So they bought two new jacks from Ponui Island. 'Dad told me to take the donkeys down to meet the ferry – the plan being the wild donkeys would follow the tame ones home.”

But when the ferry approached the tame ones got restless. 'They were braying like hell, raking their hooves on the wharf and just about leaping in the water.” The new jacks were jennies, females, and they chased each other all over town.

'Our jacks had been living like monks,” says Taffy.

But they quickly rediscovered themselves, and when a colt arrived unexpectedly a couple of months later, Taffy senior called it a discount. One of the jennies was pregnant when purchased. So, three for the price of two.

The private Oceanside Hotel was right beside the paddock and the proprietor came to the Davies' house next morning. 'What's going on with the donkeys? No-one could sleep last night. Guests were complaining and leaving.”

In nearly 25 years of Taffy Davies' donkey rides, there was no inflation, no price rise. Just thruppence – thruppence times four, of course.

'However, to compensate the rides got a bit shorter. Something of Dad must have rubbed off.”

You could call it added value, but some other Taffy Davies enterprises grew around the donkeys.

He set up a small summer shop with shutters right next to the donkeys. Ice creams, soda, chocolate, tobacco, and matches.

Had to be a winner. He set up two coppers right next door to the camp and sold hot water. Sixpence and ninepence, depending on the billy size.

He even built a corrugated bunkhouse next to the camping ground and sublet the family home to holiday makers. A nice little earner.

He set up a bottle dealership next to his shop, so when the kids brought in empty beer bottles, they would spend the money at his shop. Taffy Davies had his own economy running.

And when he won a 120 pound double off a bookie he bought a corner section at the Mount. Suffice to say, it's now owned by Dr Gareth Morgan. That 120 pounds became a nice seven figure earner.

Taffy Davies of Taffy Davies beach donkey rides was a smart man, and a delightful chancer who loved a beer and wanted to do the best by his family.

The Gallipoli mates are probably all together again and chuckling at the way Taffy Davies commemorated them.

And a whole generation of kids from Taumarunui northwards would be eternally grateful for the pleasure he and his beasts of burden brought them.

One of the donkey's once ate a ten shilling note that a tipsy onlooker waved under its nose. But that's another story.