Port of Spain in the last two
decades of the 19th century, the 1880s, was a prosperous town. There were
vicissitudes in both the principle economies, cane and sugar, notwithstanding
trade. The export-import business fairly flourished with dozens of
well-established merchant houses. There were ten steamship agencies and several
well-appointed hotels.
The Port of Spain Gazette of January 30, 1885, carried an interesting notice
placed there by a Mr. A.W. Grey. It notified the public that his telephone
exchange, although well established since the “15 ultimo”, felt that it had to
apologize to his subscribers who were at a distance from his exchange in the
delay of installing their telephones. It fact, Adelbert Grey had been in town
for a couple of years. He had come out representing the Tropical American
Telephone Company. A lot of time and energy was spent putting up poles and
stringing wires all over the city, much to the consternation of the many kite
flyers. It was, however, with no little embarrassment that Mr. Grey, upon
making a trip to the U.S.A., fell foul of the law. It would appear that he was
paying his own salary from funds meant to be used in establishing the telephone
service.
It took some doing, but Adelbert
untangled himself, returned to Port of Spain and re-established his position.
His rates were for business houses within one mile of his exchange, which was
at Almond Walk (now Broadway), $ 4 per month, payable in advance. For
residences of business subscribers $ 3 per month, also in advance.
Historian Michael Anthony reports
that he did very well, so much so that he formed a company on the 5th March,
1885, the Trinidad Telephone Company Limited. It had eight employees and a
shareholding of 335 shares. During this period, the police band was organised
by Mr. Lionel Modrant Fraser, who was at the time inspector commandant. The
customs house and steamer warehouse were completed in 1880. The San Fernando
waterworks commenced to operate in 1883. José Bodu comments that the town
received a liquid of the colour of pea soup and the odor of rotten eggs. This
result was due to the Director of Public Works, neglecting the advice of Mr.
Unsworth, and English expert, to obtain water from the Montserrat Hills, and supplying
San Fernando from a sulfurous spring names La Coulee. The result has naturally
proved disastrous. The San Fernandians preferred to stick to the rainwater
tanks of their ancestors.
The cricket pavilion at the
Queen’s Park Savannah was completed in 1887 to the delight of the lovers of the
game. The architect was Mr. Gerold. Jose Bodu records that on the 7th November,
1883, the first aeronautic experiments made in the colony occured at Shine’s
pasture during the course of the month. The performer was a member of Donovan's
Circus, then visiting.
The first attempt was
unsuccessful. The balloon hadn’t risen 10 feet high when the parachutist jumped
out. A successful attempt wax made on the 11th, when the balloon reached a
height of 500 ft. On a third occasion, on the 15th November at the Princes Building,
the balloonist, on account of not receiving sufficient public patronage,
elected to remain on terra firma and sent up the balloon without him. Shine’s
pasture was generally in the area of where Victoria Square is now.
On November 17, just as the
inhabitants of Port of Spain were quietly sitting down to their dinners about
six o’clock, a rumour spread to the effect that fighting was taking place on
the wharf. A vast crowd directed itself to the South Quay where it was seen
that the Venezuelan steamer ‘Bolivar’ which had started a short time previously
on her fortnightly voyage to the city of the same name, had to put back and had
taken a berth alongside to the end of the steamboat jetty. It appeared that
soon after weighing anchor, a number of Venezuelans had been found on board,
unprovided with either ticket or passports. On being asked by the parser for
their papers, several of them produced revolvers and commenced firing. An
attempt was also made to seize the wheel of the steamer, but the wheelhouse was
defended by Mr. Harry Lee, the son of the owner of the vessel, alongside the
jetty.
The firing attracted attention on
shore and the news was telephoned to the police station. In the meanwhile,
corporal Skinner and two water policemen boarded the vessel. Fortunately,
during the firing, only two men fell wounded, general Uritis and lieutenant de
Freitas. One death occurred, but that was by drowning, Mr. Emira Ochoa, one of
the party that had attempted to seize the vessel. He had jumped overboard and,
while endeavouring to effect his escape by swimming, apparently entangled
himself in the garments of which he was trying to divest himself. With the
intervention of armed police and the arrival of colonial secretary Hon. Henry
Fowler and the Hon. Vincent Brown, acting solicitor-general, order was restored
and the perpetrators arrested.
In much the same manner that
Adelbert Grey was given permission by the island’s colonial authorities to
establish a telephone system in the early 1880s, A.M.R. Roblins of New York was
allowed to lay down a system of tramways in the streets of the city. Any
novelty created a stir. At a time when most residents could remember the period
of emancipation and the emancipated slaves walked the streets together with
their former masters, the idea of public transport, one of life’s little
equalizers, attracted both attention and a degree of speculation. Already, the
streets were becoming lined with tall poles, carrying thin wires through which
the voices of the well-off traveled from home to exchange and from exchange to
other homes and offices. Fashionable ladies acquired the knack of striking
elegant poses while on the ... Now the sight of steel rails being laid out upon
the city’s macadam or burnt earth streets attracted attention and discussion. A
huge mule stable had been erected not far from the La Basse, near to the
railway station, for the accommodation of the power that would pull the public
transport, with standing room for some 80 animals (the stables, not the public
transport).
There were town routes which
commenced at the railway station on the Queen’s Wharf. In accordance with the
colour they were painted, the trams were known as the Red and Blue Trams. The
Red Mule Tram started from the railway and proceeded along South Quay, up St.
Vincent Street, turning west along Tragarete Road and up Cipriani Boulevard, to
the corner of Queen’s Park and turned around, making its way back along the
same route.
The Blue Tram, on the other
route, started from the railway station, went up Almond Walk, along Frederick
Street, turning east at Keate Street, up Charlotte Street and Queen’s Park East
as far as the café and the big silk cotton tree (which fell this year) at the
corner of Belmont Circular Road to return by the same route.
The fare for each journey was 5
cents. Tickets could be purchased at six for one shilling (24 cents). In 1895,
the mules went into retirement and the trams were electrified. The new trams,
imported from Philadelphia, were painted red, blue and green. They had seats
that could be reversed by swinging round their backs. It was forbidden to speak
to the motorman, and one was warned to wait until the car stopped before
getting on or off. This did not prevent the famous city personality ‘Arthur
Tramcar’ from performing spectacular feats of acrobatics on, in and around
tramcars. He, to the delight of both passengers and onlookers, would rush a
tram, leap on to the running board, and perform several cartwheels along the
board that ran the length of the car, to jump off with the flourish of an
Olympic star.
A lunatic rivalry commenced
between Arthur and the motormen. Arthur, taking a bet one time that he could
run right through a tram as it passed the crossroads of ... Road and Norfolk Street
in Belmont, waited poised on ... Road, facing east. His brand-new, white
watchekongs gleamed in the sunlight. The tram, traveling sough on Norfolk, had
picked up maximum speed from as far away north as Clifford Street. Arthur
pounced as the tram bolted, passed and emerged triumphant on the other side of
... Road. For those of you who wondered, the word ‘watchekongs’ is derived from
an advertisement that described canvas shoes as “Watch Your Corns”.
Arthur tramcar was not the only
person affected by the introduction of new forms of transport. Another city
character who was much taken by the new-fangled automobiles was Mahalle.
Mahalle drove with great dexterity an invisible motorcar, which would be parked
on a city street. Mahalle would be seen polishing it, applying the wax and
working up a sweat getting the shine just right, scrubbing the tires and
spitting on the chrome, shining it to an extent that he alone could admire
himself in it. He would then go and bathe, in public, and put on his best clothes,
Panama hat, two-tone shoes, the lot, approach his car, flick off any dust,
warned the little boys not to lean or even touch his brightly shining
automobile, get in, slam the invisible door, turn the key, press the starter,
put it in gear, release the brake and drive away. Many stories are related
about Mahalle ‘pulling up’ in front of an orange vendor, buying six navel
oranges, paying for them, tossing them into the invisible backseat and ‘driving
off’.
Mahalle used to pick up his
friend Spit-in-the-sea, another Port of Spain personality, who would walk,
every day, from upper Duke Street to Cocorite to spit in the sea.
Spit-in-the-sea would get in behind Mahalle’s invisible car, slam the door,
make himself comfortable after rolling down the invisible window, and off they
would go, busily walking one behind the other, one driving, the other quite
relaxed, looking out at the passing scenery all the way to Cocorite for his
fare to spit in the sea.
Mahalle had a sister, who sewed
on an invisible sewing machine, and a brother who picked invisible cocoa. In
those days, the town was peopled by greasy-pole climbers, sharpening knives and
scissors artisans, ice salesmen and pot and pan solderers. Cartermen muscled
their way through the donkey cart traffic jams and almost naked Indians carried
enormous loads upon their heads, their lean and scrawny bodies seemingly on the
point of snapping in two. There were no washing machines, and washer women
washed and put out mountains of laundry to bleach on huge piles of stones. They
collected them from the better-off and had to starch and iron them with dozens
of irons heated on coal pots. In those days, everybody wore hats, men, women,
boys and girls, rich and poor, hats were in until well after the second world
war. The same with bicycles - hundreds of them flooded into the city everyday
to line the pavements (unlocked) in wait of their owners.
Electricity was introduced in
1892 by the American entrepreneur Edgar Tripp. He leased a parcel of land from
the Borough Council for $ 100 a year, so as to set up his plant in the general
area of Stone Street, not far from Victoria Square. The Electric Light and
Power Company came into existence in 1894 under the chairmanship of W. Gordon
Gordon. Other directors were Eugene Cipriani and Lucien F. Ambard. More wires
were strung throughout the city and its outskirts and homes and streets were
illuminated by pale yellow lights which cast a strange and modern glow into the
eyes of the new generation. In those days, when the moon was full, the new
streetlights would be switched off so that the populace could promenade in the
moonlight.
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