'Christmas in Kingston some twenty years ago began on the first day of races, and from that date until about the sixth of January high revel held its sway.'
H. G. deLisser, Daily Gleaner, December 14, 1912
'There were not so many race meetings then as now, hence the December races were an event; for two nights and three days hundreds of people camped out on the course; they pitched booths there, had their meals there, fought there, and altogether enjoyed themselves. It was a delight to see the course at night: A thousand lights gleamed on it; everywhere were groups of three, four, half-a-dozen folk; the scent of food hung upon the air, guitars were twanged, songs sung, merry-go-rounds swung merrily around, pedestrians walked to and fro, the bars did a lively business. Now and then you would hear the cry, "Soger coming!" - that soldiers from camp were making a raid. Then there would be a wild rush in one direction and another, a precipitate covering of goods and chattels, a scream for "police", a confusion of noises, a babel of tongues. But these alarms quickly passed away, and in spite of them the people of the city would throng to the course.'
some December races in Kingston, 1805-13
John Wilson Davis, owner of Viper, was one of the group of prominent Coloured men who owned property and racehorses in St Ann in the 19th century.
Daily Gleaner, Wednesday, October 28, 1868
We regret in having to record the death of the veteran 'Father of the Turf' in this island, John Wilson Davis, Esq., at his residence in St. Ann's, on Sunday last. The deceased was in the full possession of his faculties to the last, having rode round his property on Saturday and given various directions concerning its management. This is almost marvellous, when we consider that he had attained the extraordinary age of ninety-seven years. Mr. Davis was known throughout the island and was universally esteemed.
Daily Gleaner, Wednesday, October 28, 1868
We regret in having to record the death of the veteran 'Father of the Turf' in this island, John Wilson Davis, Esq., at his residence in St. Ann's, on Sunday last. The deceased was in the full possession of his faculties to the last, having rode round his property on Saturday and given various directions concerning its management. This is almost marvellous, when we consider that he had attained the extraordinary age of ninety-seven years. Mr. Davis was known throughout the island and was universally esteemed.
Harper's Magazine, Volume 22, 1861
The races, or "The Kingston Meeting," as it is called, is the crowning event of the year, and takes place in December. Men, women, and children, who can walk or drive to the course, are sure to be present. Nothing else is talked of for a fortnight previous. "Just in time for the races," is the remark of every one to the newly-arrived stranger: "how lucky!" "Very," answers the stranger, politely. As the time approaches the excitement of the negro population exceeds all bounds. Every woman purchases some piece of finery, and every man a new hat, to wear on the occasion. They all have stakes on their favorite horses, varying from a cent to a shilling. They know the name of every animal going to run - their pedigree, their capacity, their owners, their riders. When the long-expected morning at last appears, shops are closed and business is suspended. No one would dream of demanding payment for a note that came due on Race-day. About noon streams of people may be seen traveling to the course, half a mile out of town. A stand has been erected for those who can afford and are willing to pay for indiscriminate shelter. First-class nabobs keep their carriages, and the oi polloi keep their feet.
The latter, some ten or twenty thousand in number, are certainly a strange and motley crowd. As in dense bodies they rush to and fro to catch the various points of the race, their black faces, white dresses, and lively decorations form curious contrasts. The animals competing for the "Queen's plate," the "Garrison cup," or the "Jamaica spoon" are not likely to call forth the admiration of foreigners. The horses may have an unexceptionable pedigree, but they do not look in very high condition. Their negro riders flaunt the faded colors of their masters, and use the spur (bound to their naked feet) with great liberality. Three races per diem will keep this large assemblage of persons exposed to a blazing sun during three entire afternoons. Miserabile dictu! They do not know the meaning of the word time. For many succeeding days the inhabitants talk of nothing but the winning nags, which, more frequently than not, are the property of the same individual, for race-horse breeding is a luxury in Jamaica that few can afford to enjoy. In the "good old days" it was different. The Jamaica aristocracy could then afford to breed fast horses, and many of them did so.
1870s
Daily Gleaner, May 10, 1930
REMINISCENCES OF HORSE RACING IN METROPOLIS
The Scenes Witnessed, And Things Done in City Fifty Years Ago.
TIME OF MERRIMENT.
(By A. BAIN ALVES.)
Brightly and merrily dawned the morning of Tuesday 11th December, 1878. The City of Kingston was gaily decorated, flags and buntings were hung out from the various commercial houses. There was joy and happiness depicted on the faces of all as they walked the streets. Everybody gaily attired in holiday garb; men and boys would salute each other, as they met with the following pleasantries: "Ah my boy! Today is the day of days! He who follow Anne dies! (Anne was Mike Morgan's great mare that was racing that day in the Queen's Purse of 3 miles) St. Anne forever."
In the stores, factories and workshops, hilarious shouts of laughter would greet such remarks as: "A horse, a horse, my Kingdom for a horse! Walker's horse Is going to kill Anne to-day - to-day what a Queen's Purse it is going to be!" All this; intense excitement was caused from the fact, that it was Tuesday, the first or opening day of the great, the grand annual racing carnival. The great three days race meeting on Kingston's historic race track. It was then no wonder that the votaries of the Sport of Kings male, and female, young and old, rich and poor were carried away and thoroughly intoxicated by their passionate love for horse racing, the Sport of Kings, and the king of sports which seems to be born in the bone of every son of Britain, irrespective of colour, class or creed. King and Harbour Streets and on every other street could be seen dozens of boys running and yelling at the top of their voices: "Race Book, Race Book! Buy your race book! These race books were coming out red hot from the three competing printeries, the Gleaner, Murray Auld and Jordan and Osborne. The competition among the boys was so keen that many a free fight would occur. Three or four would rush up to a good humoured gentleman who would require a race book, then would commence a wordy dialogue as to the merit of the race book. One boy would shout as he pushed his book into the hand of the prospective buyer: "See ya sah, buy my book Murray Auld sah, It better dan Gleaner." "HIm da tell you lie sah! Gleaner have hein everything; fe him and Missa Osborne own, only have in so so song sah." This sort of good humoured rivalry would continue until 11.30 a.m. when the boys would all flock to the race course.
Hundreds of saddle horses were brought down from St. Andrew by their owners and were hired out at 8/ for the half day to the clerks, artizans and tradesmen who would go mounted to the races in their morning cut-away coats with Kersymere pants and patent leather boots. They would also affix a long white or blue gossamer turban to their hats that hang down the back; while they would carry in hand a ribbon wrapped whip and a rakish, savage looking pair of spurs attached to the heel of the boot. Such were the equestrian holiday-makers of the past. There were many gentlemen who kept in those days their own saddle horse and who would always rig out in the pink of fashion. The late Mr. Fred Rousseau of St. Andrew, was one of the most prominent equestrians. He never bought or kept or rode a horse, unless it was filled with fire. It was a real pleasure to see him mounted and pirouetting on his restive steed down King Street on race day. The small boys used to be green with envy. Another fine sport was Mr. Alfred Grey, the veterinary Surgeon of Peters Lane. His father kept a veterinary hospital on West Parade and he and his son, "Alfred the Great" would go mounted and prancing off to the races. In those days he was quite a dapper young lad. He is still an enthusiastic turfite and no race meeting is complete without him.
It was a genuine pleasure in those days to see the hundreds of young City and Country Sports galloping up to the course after each race, running what in those, days was known as “Broo Broo" races. They would race for drinks, for small sweeps that would be spent in the booths and sometimes a side bet of one pound to ten pounds. It was a joyful sight to see one of these wild riders come sprawling to the ground. This would evoke great shouts of laughter. This however, never happened until they were half soaked with good old Jamaica Rum, sometimes called "Colonial Wine.”
In those slow but happy days we had plying in the City for hire about twenty-six stick busses. They were so called because the flat roofs of the busses were supported from its tray body by six uprights no bigger than the ordinary walking sticks - they each had on their backs a board about 6 ins. wide on which would be painted in white their various mottos as:- "The Sun shine for all" "Rattle at the band's gate." "I work for It in spite of the tramway.” Those busses used to do a roaring trade during the three days of the races. The busmen would dress up their busses, their horses arid themselves in the colours of the stables they loved best. "Sir Wee" (Mr. Jacob Wareham) owned one of these busses and used to drive it himself. He used to wear Mike Morgan's colours, blue body, scarlet sleeves and black cap, as he loved Morgan, and Morgan loved him. Wareham wore those colours in spite of the fact that his horse, Determine was running in the pony purse and his colours were red jacket, red cap and white sash. Zacky, an old busman, used to decorate himself and his bus with Walker's colours, white body, scarlet sleeves and black cap. It was a fine sight on race days to see the bus horses with main plaited and varicoloured ribbons flowing from head and main and tail; while the busmen and their buses would be one mass of colour.
KINGSTON EN FETE.
On this day the whole city of Kingston was "en fete" and from eleven o'clock it was one solid trek to the race course. At 12 o'clock the stores and factories commenced to close up their doors and by 1 o'clock everybody except the sick was on the race course.
On this day I was taken for the first time by my grandfather to the Kingston race course. I was whirled there along with my brother in a six stick bus, with a half yard of blue gossamer around my hat and a quart of peanuts packed away securely in my pockets. We came out on the race course, then, oh ye gods! what a grand and glorious sight, it has riveted itself forever in my young and impressionable mind, never to be forgotten, but to be locked away securely in my mental treasury as one of the most dramatic moments of my life. The whole race course was like a shifting panorama, with a vast swaying multitude; there was over one hundred tent-like booths laid out in long lines parallel to each other. There was a clear space the width of a street, between the lines of booths, and these open lines from north to south were called King Street, Church St., Duke Street, etc. The cross streets were called Harbour Street, Tower Street, etc., etc. These booths were gaily decorated with flags and bunting and from the entrance of the larger booths could be heard the strains of sweet music, combined with the popping of corks as they left the top of the bottles. Nearly all these booths had music of some sort from Gibb and Francis band down to the musical box and Gumbay drum.
Inside these booths could be found food of every description. There was the large boiled ham invitingly laid out with corned beef, roasted fowls and mountains of little French rolls of bread with cauliflower pickles and sauce. There was behind that the bottles laid out and back of the tent or booth a gaming table where you could try your hand at seven-eleven, parapinto or the sweat table. It might sound funny to say it, but, in those days there was practically no pauperism in Kingston and the prison and madhouse was a small and insignificant affair.
In the big booths one could obtain the best lunch for 1/ and wash it down with a good drink of old rum for threepence. In the smaller booths the lunch would be sixpence and a good lunch too.
On the race course in front of the booths there were hundreds of women and men with their tables and tubs where you could get a dish of rice and peas, better known as the Jamaica Coat of Arms with stewed beef or ackee and saltfish for threepence, and wash it down with a quattie ginger beer and quattie old rum, which was indeed a fine and refreshing drink. Rum was so cheap in those days that anyone could get drunk conveniently on sixpence. Yet there was very little drunkenness in those great days.
There was yet another class catered for on the race course, these people were called the quattie quattie class. They were our poorest people, they would go up to one of these women and call “Please for a quattie rice and peas with a good lively watchman.” The old mother would dip a long iron spoon into a huge yauba pot of rice and peas and put it into a small pudding pan, she would then take her iron spoon and mould up the rice and peas into a small hill on top of that she would put a piece of salt pork that was called the watchman, or look-out. She would then throw over all two spoonfuls of flour sauce. This was invariably washed down with a fill of ginger-beer and gill of rum.
You could also buy on the race course from the jerk pork men a quattie jerk pork, with bread, and mustard. On the Kingston course at its annual race meeting, from highest to lowest all were catered for and made comfortable and happy.
There were besides this hundreds of women who sold race cakes and dozens who sold stamp-and-go and bread. Who did not want strong drink, could buy water coconuts at one penny each.
Everybody in those days amused themselves in one. way or another, but nearly everybody loved gambling, so there used to be nearly two hundred sweat tables on the race course and every one had a real good time. “As I raise I pay," was the one cry from the sweat tables. Merchants and officers would take a shot on the open course on the enticing tables. "As I raise I pay" and as they were raising and turning down the box with the three little grey horses, as fast as the game would allow, and as they did not lack patronage, and as the game went on night and day for the three days and nights of races and sometimes for the whole week it will be seen that people went out for their annual fun and they had it with a vengeance.
In those days gambling like masquerading was allowed from the 11th December, the first day of the race to Twelfth Night, the 6th of January, during that gay and festive period, life would be fast and furious.
Daily Gleaner, December 16, 1879
THE KINGSTON RACES.
If one event more than another stirs and quickens, the dull currents of our social life, it is the recurrence of the annual races. Not alone do we now experience a stimulus from the cooler weather, with its crisp mornings and fresh evenings; not alone do our thoughts take the sentimental and generous turn appropriate to this glad season of the year; but we experience that pleasant community of interest attaching to the celebration of national sports. Horse racing, like most good things, has stood the test of many attacks, and it is difficult to name any amusement which is to-day more universally indulged in. With English peoples, horse racing has always been a favorite sport, as it satisfies their taste for gallant contest and for equine excellency. To-day, to-morrow, and Thursday, should the sun shine brightly out of a clear blue sky, we predict a gathering by no means inferior to its predecessors, on the Race Course. The Stands will be filled, the Course crowded, the cheers will be frequent and enthusiastic. If an proof were wanting of the taste of the Kingston people, it will be found in the liberal subscriptions they have made towards this week's racing for the encouragement of the breeders.