The Gaol

They used to say "Jail ain't make to ripen fig", meaning that if you went to jail don't expect to be idle. You had to work. The original cost of the gaol, built in 1812 on what is now Frederick Street, according to the accounts laid before the Council on 16th August 1813, was £29, 853 sterling (one pound sterling was $4.80).

Writing in 1866, Daniel Hart, Commissioner of Prisons, observed that crime in the island was much less than in other countries in proportion to its population, and that the natives of the island formed but a small proportion of the total commitments.

By the profitable employment of the prisoners, the prison department was made self-supporting. The original building was 208 ft in length an 59 ft in width. This prison was capable of containing 98 prisoners in separate cells, and 294 when more than one prisoner sleeps in one cell. There were separate quarters for females and debtors. There was also an infirmary, a store room, work shop and bakery. The baths were separated for different classes of prisoners, it would appear that felons did not bathe with debtors. There were three airing yards.

None of the subordinate officers, except the night watch and matrons, remained in the prison at night, there being no quarters for them. During the administration of Lord Harris (1845 - 1854), some thirty five years after the original construction, the gaol was enlarged to 312 ft in length and 251ft in width, with the height of the walls being 25 ft.

The prisoners earned their keep in those days. The greatest number of prisoners kept in confinement at any one period was 315 males and 22 females.

Besides the principal prison at Port of Spain, there were five liscenced prisons in different parts of the island and one penal settlement at Irois. Prisoners convicted for not more than 35 days were committed to the licensed prisons and were employed by the wardens in the cleaning, making and repairing of roads. Prisoners convicted of serious crimes and those who had to serve long periods of time were taken to Irois. These were employed in the felling, squaring and hauling out of timber. They were also employed in the replanting of the forests.

The timber taken out was cut into boards, planks and beams of various proportions. Prisoners were also employed in the cleaning of the streets in Port of Spain and San Fernando. Education in gaol in 1866 saw 31 prisoners learning writing, 42 reading, 31 arithmatic, 31 scripture reading and 45 spelling. During that  year, 1410 persons were convicted and passed through the gaol. The cosmopolitan nature of the prison population in that year gives an idea to the extent of the people coming to Trinidad from all over the world. The gaol in the "Experimental Colony" reflects this:

America - 9

Antigua - 17

Anguilla - 7

Africa - 117

Barbados - 79

China - 81

Dominica - 10

Demerara - 7

England - 5

France - 6

Guadelupe - 2

India - 688

Jamiaca - 2

Madeira - 6

Martinique - 3

Montserrat - 21

Nevis - 27

Ireland - 7

Saba - 3

Tortola - 2

Tobago - 16

Trinidad - 201

Scotland - 4

St. Vincent - 22

St. Kitts - 19

St. Thomas - 4

St. Lucia - 6

Cape de Verde - 1

Amongst the various charges laid were 23 for selling rum without a license; 5 for setting fire without giving notice; 2 for shooting with intent; 5 for robbery with violence; 1 for riotous behaviour; 10 for resisting police; 2 for riding on the shaft of a cart; 22 for obstructing the street; 69 for obscene language; 6 for murder; 314 for larceny; 12 for furious riding; 27 for exposure of person; 150 for debt; 14 for cutting and wounding; 1 for cruelty to animals; 495 for breach of contract (indentured Indians); 1 for arson; 124 for assault and battery.

Some of the professions of those convicted: 19 washers; 3 wheelwrights; 18 tailors; 2 tinsmiths; 10 seamstress; 2 schoolmasters; 9 shoemakers; 4 saddlers; 4 sawyers; 1 sailmaker; 2 solicitors; 4 professors of music; 1,118 labourers; 1 auctioneer; 3 boatmen; 3 butchers; 1 coach painter; 9 coopers; 1 coachsmith; 1 cigarmaker; 1 distiller; 3 interpretors.

These selected at random show a range of trades and professions, some no longer in existance. In those days there was one first-class turnkey who received £100 per year (a pound was $4.80). £100 was also given to the inspector of prisons, and the superintendent got £350. There was one clerk who got £150, an assistant clerk who got £75 and one overseer getting £120. The teacher was given £50. There were four second-class turnkeys who recieved £80, seven third-class got £70 and nine fouth-class who recieved £50 a year. The matron got £40 per year.

There were seven executions in 1866. There were 3 convicted for arson; 18 for cutting and wounding; 10 for murder; 7 for killing and slaying; 6 attempts to commit murder; 6 for assault to commit rape; 6 for rape; 11 for robbery with violence; 8 for assault; 6 for assault and battery; 7 for shooting with intent; 1 for malicious injury to person.

The old instruments of torture left over from the Spanish times remained in the gaol on Frederick Street for many years. One wonders whether they're still around.

The Red House

It was a hot night in the dry season of 1808. Mosquitoes seemed to be attacking the little town of Port of Spain by the millions, swarming out from the nearby swamplands. It was one of those nights when the noise from the streets was especially annoying. Tossing and turning in the bed, sweating; why isn't there the habitual cool breeze?

Suddenly, a piercing scream disrupts the uneasy slumber. Governor Thomas Hislop sits bolt upright in his soldier cot. The blanket slips to the floor. The scream, and the stinging smell that gets the adrenaline pumping instantly: smoke. Now, he hears the crackling. Yes, fire, and a big one at that.

The fire that had Governor Hislop startled from his sleep destroyed a large part of Port of Spain. The small town had grown tremendously in the last twenty years, since thousands of French immigrants and their African slaves flocked to the island to establish plantations and businesses here.

The prevalent building style of the city was wood and shingles, a bad choice of materials as this night of flames and smoke was to prove. Hislop had to deal with hundreds of homeless people from one day to the next. Valuable historical records from Spanish times were destroyed. To deal with the chaos and to prevent such a disaster in the future, Hislop's administration passed legislation with regard to building regulations, stipulating that the re-building of the destroyed parts of town and any other new construction had to be made with brick and stone.

A wise decision, which was put into action by Hislop himself and his successors Munro, Woodford, Grant, Hill, Gregor and McLeod. The latter, Sir Henry McLeod, laid on February 15, 1844 the foundation stone for a new government building on the west side of Brunswick Square (now Woodford Square). This was to be the first building on the site where the Red House now stands - let us call it the "first Red House", even though it was not then known by that name.

The architect of the first Red House was Richard Bridgens, known to us also by his drawing of Trinidadian people, i.e. Amerindians, the "Negro Figuranti" and scenes of Tobago. He was then appointed as the Superintendent of Public Works, a sector of the public administration that had been very busy since the 1810s and 1820s, when Governor Woodford did some major structural changes in the town.

The builders of that first Red House were G. de la Sauvagère and A. A. Pierre. The final building was somewhat smaller than the second (present-day) Red House. Somewhat artless, it was comprised of two blocks, connected by an archway through which coaches could pass from Abercromby Street into Prince Street (now Sackville Street). In those days, it was exclusively pedestrians, people on horseback, and carts and buggies that populated the streets, and a detour around the Red House would have been inconvenient for those muscle-powered means of transport. Also, in case of fire or public turmoil, the part of town behind the Red House had to be easily accessible for fire fighters or for the police.

The first Red House was opened in 1848 by then Governor Lord Harris, an enlightened man who contributed much to the development of the island, in particular to learning and education, founding a library and the first public school system that included Indian and black children in the countryside. The building was then not quite completed, but the inauguration ceremony in the Trinity Cathedral took place anyway.

Fifty years later, it was still not completed, for reasons unbeknownst to the author. Olga Mavrogordato in her book "Voices in the Street" quotes the Port of Spain Gazette of 1892:

"Nothing further had been done to complete the buildings since their erection some fifty years ago. The only attempt to relieve the monotony of the whole is to be seen in the arching of the carriageway through the courtyard which is a perfect skeleton and, like the ruins of Pompeii, is more suggestive of what the buildings must have been than of what they were intended to be."

The Director of Public Works in the 1890s, J.E. Tanner, apparently took those comments to heart, and together with the increasing need for a proper public records office, £15,000 was allotted over the next years to carry out extensions and alterations. The first Red House started to look a little more stately.

In 1897, the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria was celebrated all over the British Empire. Trinidad, too, spruced up, and the first Red House was painted red. This was when it got its name - not officially, but by Trinidadians, who henceforth referred to it by that name. The name stuck, and so did the red colour, at least up to the year 2001 when this article was written.

Five years later, on the 23rd March 1903, the first Red House was destroyed. Its windows were smashed by stones, the plaster of the walls damaged here and there by bullets, and then the whole thing went up in flames: an enraged mob vented its anger on the government's property. This incident is known today as the "Water Riots", since it started with the discussion of the increase of water rates by the Legislative Council, and ended with panic, death and destruction on the side of the protesters outside. The governor then was Sir A.C. Maloney. Again, for us interested in history, valuable records were destroyed, making it at times impossible to retrace the facts of times past.

In 1904, re-building began. It was a time of construction on the whole. Cocoa had brought a lot of cash into the economy, and the administration and some private individuals invested in beautiful buildings that are today Trinidad's heritage treasure: the Magnificent Seven were also erected in 1904.

The second Red House is the one we know today. Designed and built by German architect D.M. Hahn, who was Chief Draughtsman of Public Works, it cost an estimated sum of £47,485. It was much more splendid and elaborate than the first Red House, with beautiful gesso work in the Legislative Council Chamber (now the Parliament Chamber) and in the Justice Hall, which is depicted in its old, undecorated form in the first house on the cover of the Digest. The gessowork and the panels were in fact made in England, shipped to Trinidad in parts, and installed by Italian craftsmen who also worked in the halls of for example Whitehall.

The carriageway between the two wings of the Red House was closed by Hahn for vehicular traffic, but remained open to pedestrians, and had a beautiful fountain in the centre under the rotunda. The square opposite to it was renamed Woodford Square during World War I, when Germany and its city of Braunschweig (Brunswick) had become enemies of the British Empire and no major landmark was to be named for them. Similarly, Hanover Street (named for the German House of Hanover, whence Queen Victoria's husband hailed) became the extension of Abercromby Street.

Inspite of all these name changes, the Red House remained the Red House and is now officially referred to under this name.

Education and the first Model Schools

Both parties, masters and slaves, were engulfed by the rumours of the impending emancipation. The rumours that the slaves were soon to be freed became more insistent as news from the antislavery lobby in England reached them.

Governor Sir George Fitzgerald Hill, Bart. (1833 - 1839) and the planters had made the strongest representations possible to London and to their friends in high places there. They insisted that any sudden freeing of the slaves would mean absolute ruin for the colony. Estates would be abandoned and, in the event of the slaves becoming violent, even the 19th Regiment and the militia would not be able to safeguard the population. The terrible events in Haiti, the revolution, the slave revolts, the massacres of the Europeans were still in living memory.

They claimed that in view of the acute shortage of slaves since the abolition of the slave trade in 1807, it was to be anticipated that the Africans, when freed, would not return to work on the plantations. There would be no way of avoiding the complete collapse of the colony’s economy. The Europeans would go away, it was said, and the former slaves resort to savagery in the bush.

Emancipation in 1834, however, was one of those significant events that marked both an end and a beginning. In terms of race relations, it marked the end of a period when things were very clear-cut. It was also the end of clearly defined labour relations. Instead, social and occupational ambiguities would now enter the scene of things.

None of the terrible predictions of upheaval and bloodshed came to pass. Yes, plantations were ruined, fortunes were lost, lands changed hands. The labour shortage occurred, and less than 20 years later, fresh labour was found and fortunes were re-made.

In 1838, 20,656 slaves had been freed. Given the size of the island, this was not a large number, particularly bearing in mind the among of women, children and domestics amongst them.

One of the controlling factors of slavery was access to learning. At the end of the period of slavery, only the chosen few could read or write, perhaps no more than a dozen or so. The social, political, religious and emotional dislocation of the vast majority of the former slave population is hard to imagine nowadays - to describe them as ignorant would be to miss the point.

In the middle of all this, the Africans were not entirely unsought after. Rivalries between religions were as keen then as they are now and both the Catholics and the Anglicans vied with each other for converts. With the prohibition against giving education to the Africans gone, the offer of schooling was the attractive way to create converts. The British government also supported the possibilities  of an education for the former slaves’ children - especially since they were French and Patois speaking and had to be taught English. The various denominations were encouraged to start schools. The quality of this education in those schools, however, has been described by historians as low.

As the result of the plantation system and society in the towns being dominated by the French creoles, French language and the culture of the south of France were endemic. Catholicism was entrenched, and the hierarchical structure of the society almost feudal. The British, on the alert, did not want the former slaves to coalesce even further with these alien French, formerly aristocrats of an overturned regime.

There was a political need to break this alliance of interest, formed of a shared alienation to the British Crown. British education was the answer. It would benefit the Africans, and it would serve to gain their loyalty. During the mid-19th century, the majority of the Africans who were socialised French was diluted by the influx of former slaves from other West Indian islands, many from Protestant cultures like Barbados. They came to work in the fields, however, they did not stay there long. Little by little, the process of segmentation of the Africans along denominational and cultural lines crept in - Catholic/French and Protestant/English.

When Lord Harris assumed governorship in 1845, there were about 54 primary schools in Trinidad, many of them organised by different churches. Lord Harris was an unusual individual for his time - he was interested in mass education and voiced the opinion that “education was essential for the lower classes in order to fit them for freedom.”

He felt that education should not be handed over to the denominations, but instead was convinced that these religious bodies were competing for increased numbers in their individual congregations. The pursuit of these various ‘gains of converts’ would only lead to the creation of deep divisions in the society. Lord Harris advocated a state school system, which was secular and in the hands of the government. In thinking this way, Harris understood the inherent problems of a society segmented in various ways - of which he had enough on his hands with the beginning arrival of Indians from the other end of the British empire.

The creation of the education ordinance in 1851 which established a school in every ward, free and secular under the control of a board of education with salaried inspectors, was a landmark event in Trinidad. Dr. Bridget Brereton writes in her book ...:

“Instruction was to be entirely secular, but each week at stated times the clergyman of the majority faith in the ward would undertake to teach religion, with parents free to withdraw their children if they wished.”

In Port of Spain, a ‘Normal School’ was to be set up to train teachers for the ward schools, with ‘Model Schools’ attached to them for the teachers in training to practice and to come to grips with the challenge of their calling. This was the foundation of the school system in Trinidad.

Notwithstanding Lord Harris’ laudable intentions there were problems. Too few new schools came into existence - only 30 by 1870. Language was a real problem. Since English was the only language used for instruction, it went over the heads of most pupils, who spoke only French patois in their homes and in their community. Within a couple years, the population became entirely bi-lingual. There was also the problem of properly trained teachers as well as a lack of motivation to teach in the inadequate and dilapidated buildings that served as schools.

Sir Arthur Gordon, who arrived in Trinidad as governor in 1866, made a decision to take up the challenge of education. Harris’ ward school system of the previous decade had served to lay the foundations.

The Catholic church had become stronger now, as its main adherents, the French creoles, had once more gained financial ascendancy. The Catholics took the view that only state-aided denominational schools would be acceptable to them. They felt convinced that state-run schools were essentially ‘godless’ and that they placed Catholic youths in mortal danger for their souls.

At Governor Gordon’s request, an Irishman, Patrick Keenan, was sent out to investigate. Keenan was an expert in the field of organised education, and he produced a landmark document in the history of education in Trinidad. He recommended that the church schools be allowed state aid under certain circumstances. This met the Catholic churches’ necessities. The education ordinance of 1870 put into place a dual system of state-supported church schools alongside government schools in the wards.

To what extent this beginning of an education system served to divide the emerging society in its lowest and most vulnerable levels is a topic that historians discuss to this day. In the chequered landscape of our society, with its bewildering collection of faiths and creeds did we get off to a bad start?

Next time you take a shortcut through Lord Harris Square in Port of Spain and walk past his missing statue, or stroll down Harris Promenade in San Fernando, spare a thought for a noble man who spared a thought for children.

Cipero Train

The wail of the whistle echoed across the undulating countryside, startling the flamingoes to flight. The scarlet ibis made a magenta scar in the pale sky. It did nothing at all to the placid Gulf of Paria. William Eccles stared at the slow moving mangrove. The steam-driven paddle boat, the 'Lord Harris', was endeavouring to pause and come about. At the same time this produced a pillar of black smoke from its single stack.

In the distance, Naparima Hill still had about it a trace of early morning chill. On the nearby wharf, his tram awaited him. Its silvery iron rails were curving away in the freshly risen sunshine.

The Cipero embarcadere had been Eccles' creation. So too the tramway, which was at first hauled by mules, later steam-driven. William Eccles' had introduced public transport to Trinidad in 1859 by connecting Naparima to Mission, now known as Princes Town. He had also create warehouses and introduced large and powerful cranes at the Cipero Creek, so as to facilitate the loading and off-loading of flats and carts. He established a sawmill and machine and engineering works for the repairs to steam engines with a slipway for taking steamers that he owned onto dry dock.

Daniel Hart writes of Eccles:

"It was largely due to his enterprise that the San Fernando jetty was built. To accommodate the people from Pointe-a-Pierre and Savonetta, he established a station at Sandy Bay, another at Felicity Hall."

Eccles' steamers were called the 'William H. Burnley' and the 'Lord Harris'. He owned nine sugar estates and managed two others for his relatives, the Burnleys.

Ian Jardine, a descendant of Eccles, writes:

"With such vast acreage under his control and situated mostly in the Naparimas, it was not surprising that he constructed a railway there to facilitate the transport of his sugar. This was the first railway to be built in Trinidad."

Today, districts in the south are remembered by the names of Eccles' sugar estates as Mon Repos, Forres Park, Cedar Hill, Les Efforts, to name a few. William Burnley Eccles' roots were firmly planted in Trinidad. His people, Catholic Scots, had arrived in Spanish times before 1797, and for fifty years endured the vicissitudes of Trinidad's history. In William's day, they were a very powerful family.

Little did he know that that clear-cut morning was to be the last that he would have on his Cipero wharf, as within weeks he was dead. This man of energy and vision died in his 42nd year at his townhouse at Richmond Street, Port of Spain.

Apart from being a sugar planter and an entrepreneur, William Eccles was also a humanitarian with a sense of social responsibility beyond his times. As the employer of large numbers of Indian indentured labourers, the plight of these newcomers was very real to him. The estate hospitals that he created on his plantations were well equipped, and although the barrack yards were in a perpetual state of bedlam, Daniel Hart remarked that they were clean.

Eccles is remembered for the work he did amongst the orphaned. Ian Jardine writes:

"The high mortality rate among the indentured produced quantities of orphans, with no one to care for them, and it was due to his efforts that the 'Coolie Orphan House' was founded at Tacarigua."

This home was opened in 1857. It is now the St. Mary's home for children. There are no more Eccles left in Trinidad of his family. A surprising six young cousins died in World War I. There are, however, many Trinidadians of East Indian descent who bear the surname Eccles - they are the descendants of the orphans.

Trinidad comes into Modern Society

Modern times, so to speak, began to come to Trinidad in the period following the end of Britain's wars with France. For some 20 years, these two powers had contested over the remnants of the Spanish empire and over European hegemony. It had lasted through the last days of French monarchy, the French revolution and the first empire of Napoleon Bonaparte. By the time that England decided to free the slaves in the Caribbean in the 1830s, her navy essentially ruled the oceans of the world.

Unchallenged on the high seas for the first time in several decades, trade flourished. In Trinidad by the start of the 1840s, the old French plantocracy was reeling from the loss of manpower to run the plantations of cane and cotton.  Large estates went relatively cheap to the newly-arriving British entrepreneurs. A banking system was put into place in 1838 with the establishment of the Colonial Bank, the forerunner of Republic Bank today, to facilitate the change-over from a plantation economy to a regular economy based on imports and exports.

Indeed, this period marked a beginning. The commencement of a new society with different values and needs as compared to the previous slave society. The challenge for new labour to work the freshly liberated estates would soon be met by the simple expedient of importing workers from one end of the empire to another, this time under contract.

Ice

One of the really new commodities to come to these islands in this period was ice. Michael Anthony, author of 'First in Trinidad', recounts that ice arrived on the 17th September 1844. The 'Port of Spain Gazette' reported on page two:

"Ice, ice, ice. The Brigantine 'New England' under the command of Captain McCurdy has arrived from Boston with a cargo of ice."

There were people alive in the 1920s who could remember being taken to see this new wonder. Ice made from prehistoric water that had been formed in icebergs at a time when great mammoths walked the earth, was hacked off into gigantic blocks, packed into the holds of massive wooden sailing ships and transported to these islands. The man who imported ice into this country for the first time was D.P. Cotton, a forward-thinking newly arrived Englishman. A place was needed to keep this ice, and the first Ice House was erected. According to Michael Anthony's research, this first ice house "was in the rear of Government House, which itself occupied part of the Treasury" - would this have been lower St. Vincent Street, which ended at a wharf in an area known as 'Stinking Corner' as result of it being a fisherman's wharf?

It would appear that crowds of people converged on the ice house. D.P. Cotton advertised his ice for sale at five cents per pound and in quantities at not less than 100 pounds at 4 cents per pound. He also advised that ice should be covered by a good thick woolen blanket. He also suggested to families that refrigerators should be purchased and proceeded to import them himself a few months later.

Within a few weeks, a new ice house was built at the corner of Abercromby Street and Marine Square (now Independence Square). This building existed as a city landmark till 1977. The arrival of ice did change urban culture to some extent. It allowed for the preservation of food and with the emerging affluence presented to the public cool drinks, iced fruits, vegetables and for the very first time ice cream. Christmas 1844 was the first time that ice cream was enjoyed in Trinidad. Cotton's ice house flourished. It became a social center. He kept a range of imports frozen to eventually be put on sale, and perhaps on a more somber note, he also provided the newly-imported commodity to the town's mortuary, so that the dead may be kept a little longer in order to facilitate the arrival of out-of-town relatives for the funeral. Times were indeed changing!

Flowers

Flowers were imported into this country a decade or so later. This notice appeared in the Port of Spain Gazette in indeed flowery terms:

"A novel and we should think very useful and attractive store has just been opened on Queen Street for the sale of a large assortment of European flowers and fruit trees. Pillforce & Co. have on hand a collection of choice plants to delight the floral amateur and we have little doubt that at the moderate prices at which these beauties are offered they will soon effect a clearance."

Library

Lord Harris, governor of Trinidad from 1845 to 1854, was a great benefactor to learning and to intellectual refinement. Apart form the establishment of the Ward Schools, Lord Harris was instrumental in the creation of our public library system from somewhat humble beginnings in 1851. The original library committee comprised Chief Justice George Knox, the Attorney General Charles Warner, a member of Harris' council, John Losh, R.C. Archbishop Patrick Smith and Archdeacon George Cummings, and a person described as possessing refinement, Augustin Thoulouis. Knox Street in Port of Spain is named for George Knox. Dr. Court and Sir Louis de Verteuil soon to mayor of Port of Spain also served on the library committee, representing the town council. J. Danglade, Esq., was the first secretary/librarian.

The library was first located on Chacon Street, but moved to new premises in 1902. The site to which the library moved at the corner of Pembroke Street and Knox Street was in fact a former 'Government House' in that it was lived in by Col. Fullerton, one of the commissioners to Trinidad at the end of the Picton administration in 1803.

Cholera

By far and away the worst catastrophe to hit Trinidad ever was the cholera epidemic of the 1850s. In 1854, the total population of Port of Spain was about 18,500. In a nine-week period, 4,200 cases of cholera were reported, deaths as a result stood at 2,112 persons. 57% of the victims died, more than 10% of the population of Port of Spain! Weekly interments at Lapeyrouse cemetery were startling, the numbers being: 49, 170, 364, 455, 495, 256, 144, 43, and 36.

Having no idea of the cause of the epidemic, great feat gripped the town. tar was burnt in barrels on street corners, filling the air with its own vile odor. The clip-clap of mules' hoofs drawing carts filled with corpses joined hearses, decorated with encrusted wreaths, drawn by black plumed horses that were in turn draped in black net. Churches were crammed with a never-ending round of funerals. Bouts of black dysentery heralded this disease that wiped out entire households, rich and poor, African and European alike.

Soup kitchens were set up, and Port of Spain, sectioned off into zones, was volunteer-patrolled to take the afflicted to centers. $ 2000 was collected to help the poor amongst the sick and to bury the indigent dead.

People in those days had no idea that cholera was caused by the close proximity of cesspits to the waterwells, which was the case all over the town. San Fernando lost 14% of its population. The countryside fared a bit better. Obeah and black magic flourished as people in great desperation sought any means to save themselves. Many committed suicide, having lost their loved ones, their children, their spouse. From England came the news that cholera was a water-borne disease. The city's wells, public and private, were filed in and a system for the distribution of pipe-borne water was commenced in earnest.

In fact, a water company had been formed already in 1841 to bring water from the St. Anns and Maraval valleys into the heart of town, supplying households along the streets from the Savannah all the way to the wharves. Pipe-borne water coming out of taps right in your home was to the vast majority of locally-born citizens as strange as the arrival of ice.

Already in the 1820s, Governor Sir Ralph Woodford had arranged for water to be piped into his new government house at St. Anns. The state of the town in those days was one of elegant town houses standing right next to shacks and crumbling mansions from the period of the first French immigration wave some 40 years earlier. Herds of cattle sometimes stampeded through the streets, raising clouds of black corbeaux into the air which swooped at pedestrians, knocking off their top hats and frightening the horses. The aroma of cocoa and tonca beans filled the air. Dogs, goats, donkeys, horses and all their droppings made for a medley of smells. The sounds and rumblings of the carts filled the streets, which were often muddy. Only the center of the roads was paved to form a channel into which anything was flung. Cesspits were dug everywhere, adding their own charm to the evening air.

Under such unhygienic conditions, it took the cholera epidemic of 1854 to really bring pipe-borne water to the town. A huge reservoir was dug in the north-western corner of the Savannah known today as the Rock Gardens or Hollows. A channel took the water from St. Anns through the Botanical Gardens under the street to this reservoir. Its overflow area is known today as the Wild Flower Park.

But it was ultimately from the Maraval river that water came to Port of Spain. To facilitate this, an ordinance was drafted, whereby access was gained through lands owned by Eliza Piggot La Coste, Jean de Boissière, Henri Boissière, J.N. Boissière, Fritz and William Urich and the St. Clair estate. For the time being, the town's water needs were met.

Water, however, continued to be an issue in Trinidad. Some fifty years later, events around water distribution rose to a boiling point and the water riots occurred in 1903.

Public Transport

It was P. & H. Creteau who introduced public transport for hire. A horse-drawn cab system was introduced - handsome cabs, drawn by high-stepping chestnuts or matching grays. The 'Port of Spain Gazette' reported on the 19th October, 1864:

"Ten or a dozen cabs now make their daily appearance in King Street or Marine Square, of which the greater number would do no discredit to the streets of London itself." The article concluded: "Our vehicles are clean, decent to look at and well horsed, and the drivers are tolerably civil."

Postal Service

A postal service was inaugurated on the 14th August, 1851. In a real sense, this spoke for the integration of the society, connecting outlying districts, keeping people in touch with the rest of the world. It was only in 1850 that the British government had passed an act enabling colonial legislatures to create inland post., which was handled by the police service. They did this on horseback. The central post office was established on lower Frederick Street at the police station, and James O'Brien, Esq., became the first postmaster. The steamer 'Lady McLeod' carried the first mail to San Fernando. A special stamp, now very valuable, was issued. In September 1860, regular postmen were eventually introduced to the routes established by the mounted police.

The History of Transportation

All aboard!

‘Modern’ Trinidad is suffocating in the fumes and the noise of cars, trucks, vans and buses. Perhaps a just punishment for scrapping the coastal steamers and the trams and trains!

Public transport is a major aspect in the development of a country. In Trinidad, the first steps in that direction were taken in 1813, when a regular paddle-steamer service started between San Fernando and Port-of-Spain. The first of these commuter paddle-steamers was called the Woodford, and she was to be followed by a series of steamers that took up service, e.g. in 1837 by the Paria, in 1839 by the Lady McLeod, in 1853 by the Rothsay Castle and the Lord Harris. These steamers included La Brea and Cedros in their schedule. They were joined by the Janet Tennant and the William Burnley (both named after sugar barons of the day), and afterwards by the Alice and the Arthur.

To go down the islands, one had to rely on open boats in the early days. But in the late 19th century and up to the 1950s, there was an island steamer service in place. The first of these steamers was called the Ant and the last one the Lady Hollis, which stopped at Carenage, the Five Islands, Carrera, Gasparee, Monos and Huevos. A popular afternoon outing was a round-trip from Port-of-Spain to Chacachacare, which cost 60 cents including a delightful tea served on board!

Railway Fares (Single ticket, 2nd class)
Port-of-Spain to San Juan	$ 0.16
Port-of-Spain to Arima	$ 0.64
Port-of-Spain to Sangre Grande`	$ 1.07
Port-of-Spain to San Fernando	$ 1.16
Port-of-Spain to Siparia	$ 1.53
Steamer Fares (Cabin)
San Fernando to La Brea	$ 0.72
San Fernando to Cedros	$ 1.87
Port-of-Spain to Icacos	$ 2.89
Islands and Bocas Service (Single ticket, cabin)
Port-of-Spain to Five Islands	S. 1 D. 8
Port-of-Spain to Monos	S. 3 D. 3
Monos to Chacachacare	D.10
Coastal Steamer Service (Return ticket, North Route)
Blanchisseuse to Port-of-Spain	$ 4.80
Guayaguyare to Port-of-Spain	$ 3.20
Toco to Scarborough	$ 2.22
Scarborough to Bloody Bay	$ 1.60
Speyside to Port-of-Spain	$ 5.00
Scarborough to Port-of-Spain	$ 3.20

(Source: Franklin’s Yearbook of 1916)

When Tobago became a part of the colony on the 1st January, 1886, most of the vessels exporting produce to Trinidad were owned by Tobagonians. A weekly service to was started to the sister isle in 1910 with the Spey and Kenneth. In 1931, the Belize was one of a number of ships which serviced Tobago, followed by the Trinidad and the Tobago, which operated until 1957, and the City of Port-of-Spain and the Silver Arrow until 1960.

Up to 1844, there was no paved road to San Fernando, only a macadam track called ‘royal road’. Transport was an entirely private task, with horses over the few bridle-paths and Amerindian footwalks, with boats from bay to bay around the island and into the rivers. Streets were almost non-existent in Spanish times and for years after the English conquest. In Port-of-Spain, there were grass markets at Marine Square, just behind the cathedral, and at Sh... pasture, now Victoria Square, where grass for animals was sold.

William Tucker established the first horse-drawn omnibus service for passengers and packages between the capital and Arima in 1848, thus inaugurating the era of public transport on land. This omnibus service continued until 1862, at a charge of 10 cents per mile. It took about a day to get to Arima!

In the same year, Messrs P. & H. Creteau began a system of horse-drawn cabs. These cabs continued in Port-of-Spain until 1930, when the motor-car taxi cab arrived. The competitor for the Creteaus was from 1879 onwards Mr. Roblins of New York, who laid down a system of tramways in the streets of the city. In 1883, Roblins commenced the first mule-drawn tram. On the La Basse, near the railway station, were large mule stables with standing room for about 80 animals. The Red Tram started at Queen’s Wharf (now where City Gate is), along South Quay, up St. Vincent Street, turned west along Tragarete Road and up Cipriani Boulevard to the corner of Queen’s Park. The Blue Tram’s route included Queen’s Wharf, Almond Walk (now Broadway), up Frederick Street to Memorial Park, along Keate Street, along Charlotte Street and the Queen’s Park Savannah east up to the café at Belmont Circular Road.

In 1895, the trams were electrified and the mules went into retirement. The press remarked that their ‘speed was very high, fully 15 miles per hour’. To make room for the rails, the fountain on Marine Square was taken down and promptly disappeared. It was shaped in the form of a child, holding a swan lighlty by the neck, and stood where the statue of Captain A.A. Cipriani now is. The Red Tram ran from the top of Cipriani Boulevard to Tragarete Road and turned westward towards Cocorite. At the corner of Park and Frederick Street was the Transfer Station. The St. Clair, Belmont and Four Roads trams met here, and passengers could get a transfer from one tram to another without paying an extra fee. The trams were abolished in 1950.

What is now the busy ‘City Gate’, where thousands of commuters board the puffing blue buses and try to squeeze yet another basket into the endless stream of maxis, was once a proper railway station. Looking up into the cast-iron roof structure, one can still make out the elegance of the vanished platforms with a little imagination.

The first mule-drawn train ran between Cipero Creek and San Fernando in April 1859. Besides carrying produce from the sugar estates to the Creek, from where it was carried by barges to the steamers offshore, this was also a very popular mode of travel for the country and estate people. In 1864, the first steam locomotive came into operation, pulling the carriages from Cipero Creek all the way to Princes Town. In 1876, the rails from Port-of-Spain towards the east were completed and a train went on its way to Arima. It wasn’t until 1892 that the rails from San Fernando were extended all the way to Port-of-Spain, since transport by rail was much more expensive than by the sea. The two last extensions of the railway system were to Guanapo in 1896 and to Sangre Grande one year later.

During the first world war the locomotives were converted from coal to oil, and in the Second World War, when spare parts for cars were rare, the train saw another boom. The entire railway system, however, was scrapped in 1966, one year after the last train ran to San Fernando, making way for the motor car in its various incarnations, which had been on the scene since 1900.