Sixy years ago on the morning of April 22, 1960 thousands of people streamed into Woodford Square in the heart of Port of Spain to hear a speech by Eric Williams, Chief minister of Trinidad.It was the day that Williams proclaimed the independence of the British West Indies. An excerpt of his speech is as follows:
"From today, April 22, 1960, 11 am, we are a different people. We are not what we were on April 21. We are here today as West Indians—the new nation born out of the amalgam of disparate cultures and different racial stocks. Our demonstration today demonstrates national unity. … A demonstration such as this is not only a political leap forward. It is also a spiritual purification."

67 YEARS AGO, TODAY
The closure of railways across Trinidad was a long drawn out process which was first discussed in 1920 when the TGR, that had opened in 1876, suffered its first year of financial losses after 45 years of profitable operation. Financial instability was largely due to the introduction of privately operated omnibuses for public transportation between 1908 and 1920. After WW1, there were also many private road haulage companies using surplus war equipment which greatly impacted freight traffic.
Due to diminishing profitability on the railways, four separate economic enquiries were carried out by the Government in 1926, 1936, 1956 and 1963. The only improvement in the situation occurred when the railways proved “indispensable” during both world wars. It has often been said that railways in Trinidad were retained after 1936 due to the critical role it played during the second world war when it was saved by the Americans who used it to build and supply their base at Waller field.
Despite efforts to arrest the decline by successive administrations, by 1950 the railway was in serious trouble once again. But the roads still had some way to go before they could completely substitute the railways especially when it came to the transportation of bulk commodities like sugar and very heavy oilfield apparatus for drilling and refinery.
Nevertheless, the writing was on the wall and it seemed the “indispensability” of the Trinidad Government Railway was beginning to fade with each passing year. The critical role played by the railway during both World Wars was being quickly forgotten in the face of post war economic realities. In the face of mounting criticism, the Government acted.
On the 12 March 1953 came first closure announcements across the TGR. The Arima to Sangre Grande, San Fernando to Princes Town and San Fernando to Siparia lines were all to lose their passenger services. Substitution bus services were widely publicised in the lead up to closures.
Closures came as had been announced on 1 April 1953 and on this date the Arima to Sangre Grande line was completely closed to both passenger and good (some Orange Grove bound cane traffic continued for a few more years).
The Guardian reported on the last departure from Sangre Grande, which left the station at 9:15 pm on the evening of April 1st. “The last train gave three mournful blasts each lasting three to four minutes as a farewell”. Also, on the same day, 1 April, the San Fernando to Princes Town (Guaracara line) and the San Fernando to Siparia line both closed to passenger traffic. The Guaracara line lost its goods service on 8 June. These lines were closed despite much protest.
In a twist of fate, the Siparia line was to hold on to its goods services, presumably in order to service the now booming oil industry and the sugar cane scales between Usine Ste. Madeleine and Penal.
In the 1950s the road system in Trinidad was not yet suitable for the transportation of heavy refinery equipment and drilling oilfield apparatus and reliance for this was placed on rail as was the transportation of bulk cane to Factory.
During the course of its life the Siparia line brought many people to the district from all points of the railway network particularly during the yearly festival of La Divina Pastora when many extra trains, known as “Specials”, were put on in order to accommodate the high volume of traffic. This practice continued for several years following the withdrawal of passenger trains to Siparia in 1953 and there was a brief resumption of a passenger service 1964 when the authorities in Siparia petitioned the need to provide transportation for school children to and from San Fernando, this service only lasted a very short time.
The reality was that people in the 1960s stopped using the railway. The route taxi became very fashionable and people saw it as a status symbol. Many will argue with me over this; however, one only must ask the old TGR workers and the argument becomes clear. People were not using the service. Trains ran empty except for periods of “rush hour” or perhaps during Carnival time.
Within the final years, no service was more abused physically and verbally, than the railway. “Deficit-ridden,” “not economically viable”, “a drain on the economy.” “barren, bankrupt and archaic,” were some of the terms used by the public and press to describe the service.
Physical abuse was perpetrated by vandals, and by the thousands who travelled daily without paying fares because of the dated ticket examination system in operation. This contributed greatly to its demise.
Despite closures and measures designed to arrest the demise, losses over the final years continued; in 1964 the service lost $3.6m; in 1965 3.2m; in 1966 2.7m; in 1967 1.6m; and in 1968 (final year) $1.2m.
A Cabinet-appointed committee which examined the railway, with special reference to closure, dismissed the possibility of the service ever becoming viable.
In 1968 officials of the Public Transport Service Corporation, which operated the railway, reported on the unsafe condition of the rail tracks as the key reason why the service could not be retained. The cost of rehabilitating the service and making it safe was put at $590,000, money which "could be better utilised in providing a more efficient bus service".
Personally, I believe that had the railway managed five more years of operation after 1968 there may have been a return to the rails by the public as our road traffic situation in and out of Port of Spain began to deteriorate.
I'm sure the debate will continue for many more years to come.
Source:  Glen Beadon 1 April 2020  VM of T&T

After the end of slavery in 1834, labour became scarce, and to fill the void, hundreds of peons from neighbouring Venezuela came to Trinidad as seasonal workers. An ethnic mixture of Amerindian, African and European, they were known as the cocoa panyols .
The harvesting of cocoa pods was very labour-intensive. Ripe pods were gathered every few week during the peak season. The high pods wer cut with large knives attached to bamboo poles ( gullets), taking care not to damage nearby flowers or buds. The pods were collected in large baskets, which workers carry on their heads , and piled up ready for splitting . Source: Virtual Museum of Trinidad & Tobago, April 2020
Photo Credit : Scott He  

Did you know that as far back as 1940s housing development schemes existed ?
Morvant is located in the southern foothills of the Northern Range of the island of Trinidad. The first settlers were working-class families who made their livelihoods within the homes and businesses of the (relatively) more affluent middle-class people living in the nearby capital city of Port of Spain. Long before the political advent of the PNM -- the Trinidad government in the 1940s undertook in Morvant an innovative community-based housing development program that strengthened the social and economic stability of the village . The housing development scheme was patterned on the community development and housing strategy that was being used in Puerto Rico and, some years later, was used in Cuba. Through this program, the government solicited the interest of several Morvant families and encouraged them to assist one another in restoring older homes and in building new homes in Morvant. As a result of this housing development approach, many new families joined the older Morvant residents and came to belong and strengthen this vibrant, resourceful and proud working-class community ( Source : Wikipedia)

RECOLLECTIONS: I often cast my mind back to blurred memories of driving through sugar estates like Brechin Castle and Usine Ste Madeleine (USM) in the mid-60s. My parents had friends in both places and would often be allowed to take short cuts through the private estate roads. Brechin Castle (BC) was my favourite during crop time when we would often encounter trains loaded with cane going towards the factory or empties going in the opposite direction. There was a point over the Couva river where road and rail converged into a single bridge. Here a system of traffic lights held up road traffic if there was a train approaching from either direction. I was delighted in 1989 to see the bridge with rails still in situ and the remains of one of the traffic lights. Railway lines on either side having long gone. Sadly, on my last visit the old bridge seems to have been replaced altogether by a wider new one.
The sugar industry in Trinidad closed altogether in 2005.
Only a few years ago there was a plan to restore Brechin Castle as a “Sugar Heritage Village” museum and business park. The venture seemed to gather steam when four diesel locomotives from USM were moved by heavy haulage road vehicles to BC, on 6 November 2012.
I first visited the site at BC a few weeks later, on 28 December 2012, and met with Prof. Brinsley Samaroo and Arjoon Singh. On that occasion, I donated to the museum a series of vintage photographs (slides) taken of the sugar industry in Trinidad by the late Dr. Arthur Down. At the meeting we discussed plans for the museum which included a Sugar Museum, Sugar Archives, living Railway Museum (with short train rides for visitors), golf, convention facilities and a few other things. My last visit was on 21 February 2016 when Prof. Samaroo invited me to tour the sugar archives building which had been beautifully built to a high standard, as was the museum which we visited afterwards.
Sadly, since that time, things seem to have come to a standstill. I don't know what has happened, but it seems that funding for the project has been suspended and lately we are informed that the factory is to be demolished.
BC and USM once had everything and could have very easily set up an operation similar to that which now exists in Barbados at St Nicholas Abbey rum distillery & heritage railway. Redundant sugar workers and local people alike, could have benefited tremendously had this been realised at BC in Trinidad.
A recent British Parliamentary study of the effect on local communities across Britain by having a heritage railway and this also could equally apply to a heritage center such as BC in Trinidad. The following is a quote taken from the British report: "Economic Benefits - Heritage railways make a major contribution to the economies of the areas they serve both in terms of attracting tourism and of substantial spending on local services. Research undertaken for a number of railways suggests a mean benefit to the local economy of around 2.7 times the railway’s turnover. In aggregate, this would suggest that the economic benefit nationally is just under £250m".
The same could have been set up at BC and running as of 2016. As time goes by the dream diminishes and the cost of restoring BC soars out of sight.
In Trinidad we have very interesting history that would be of great interest to locals and foreign visitors alike. Below is some of the history associated with Brechin Castle which I know most local people don’t realise.
The abandoned Brechin Castle that some of us know today is not the original sugar factory or “Usine”. The original factory was a much smaller operation that was located to the west of Couva, south of the river and towards the sea on a location that was to become known as “Tractor Shed”. The BC we know today was built on what was Sevilla Estate.
HISTORY: Sevilla Estate was acquired as part of the great centralisation of sugar estates which began to take place following the abolition of slavery.
This was the beginning of a process of amalgamation in the sugar industry which was moving away from smaller holdings, each with their own crushing mills and factory, into what became known as ‘Central Factories’ or much larger and more efficient modern works where cane would be brought for the process of sugar manufacture.
The introduction of Central Factories was the prelude to the railway age in Trinidad where it became essential to transport cane to factory quickly and efficiently from greater distances. Because of this, particularly in the West Indies, both the sugar industry and railways are indelibly associated.
By 1886 Brechin Castle, which by then included Sevilla Estate, was in the ownership of Turnbull Stewart and Co. The company owned a railway for their cane transportation needs as well as ocean going ships to transport manufactured sugar to the UK.
A very good description of Turnbull Stewart and Co's operation is described by J.H. Collens in his 1886 "Guide to Trinidad" as follows:
" the train has started again; rolling over the muddy Couva River by the longest iron bridge in the island, you see on the right the fine works of Brechin Castle (Mr. G. Turnbull), in the Savanetta part of Couva (Savanetta = little savanna). These were the first Vacuum Pan works erected in Trinidad, and the fine crystals made here took the first prize at the local exhibition in February this year (1886). On the left is Sevilla, worked in connection with Brechin Castle. The first building is the estate hospital; a little further, on the rising ground, is the residence of Mr. John S. Wilson, planting attorney of Messrs. Turnbull, Stewart and Co. There is telephonic communication between Brechin Castle and Sevilla, and from the former to the shipping place. Behind Sevilla, in the direction of Montserrat, are Milton (Messrs. C. Tennant, Son and Co.) and Rivulet (Mr. G. Turnbull)."
The railway bridge over the Couva river described in the 1886 account above still stands to this day. It was known as the “Sevilla Bridge”. This bridge was originally built by Contractors and Engineers Westwood and Baillie & Co. of London England and in 1922 it was reinforced by TGR engineer C. R. Walker so that it could take the heavier Canadian engines (21 Class) which began to arrive in Trinidad in 1920.
Travelling south in 1886 the factory was on the right, today it stands on the left of the old railway line. Also note the mention of the "shipping place". At one time there were 18 "Shipping places" or "Embarcaderes" before the coming of the railways when produce was moved by river to the sea for onward shipment.
By 1913 Brechin Castle estate, including Sevilla Estate, was owned by Trinidad Estates Co. under attorney W.G. Kay. At the time it included the following estates: Rivulet, Milton, Caroni and Sainte Helena. The company was managed by J.W. Arbuckle and J. Gilbert. The Engineer was F.M. Goodwin.
In 1923 a group of estates near Tacarigua known collectively as Orange Grove and belonging to West Indian Estates changes to Trinidad Sugar Estates Limited. In 1924 the original Trinidad Sugar Estates Limited became part of Caroni Sugar Estates (Trinidad) Limited with factories at Caroni (note: the original Caroni Estate, close to Caroni village, was originally known as “Frederick Estate” and today Frederick settlement still exists) and Brechin Castle.
In 1936 Tate and Lyle purchased 50% of Caroni estates. Then at around the same time, Caroni (1937) was created when Tate and Lyle, with Caroni Sugar Estates (Trinidad) Ltd, formed a conglomerate which included Waterloo on the Western coast and Brechin Castle in Couva.
In 1939 the Brechin Castle sugar factory had been rebuilt to process canes from both Caroni and Brechin Castle. Later the capacity of the factory was doubled to include the Waterloo factory which was demolished.
By 1940 the landscape of its headquarters, Brechin Castle, was changed with new factory and the four cooling ponds at the back as well as major company offices, the dispensary, Sevilla School, Sevilla Club and residences for mainly expatriate senior staff. This was the when the new factory (the one now abandoned) was built on the old Sevilla estate.
Caroni continued to expand with the acquisition of Esperanza in 1956, Woodford Lodge in 1961 and Sainte Madeleine in 1962.
Caroni later became 1975 Limited and the rest is within living memory for most of us.
What an important historic attraction this could be in central Trinidad. It could be the project that opens a new chapter or turning point in the tourism industry of Trinidad and Tobago.
Glen Beadon 11 March 2020

Of the countless jailbirds to tread this island, none has cast a longer shadow than [Bajan] John Archer, who set the local, probably the regional, and – who knows? – maybe even a world record with 119 criminal convictions, and whose very name would come to mean a ruffian and a bully.
“John Archer, a notorious Police Court character,” reported the Mirror in 1902, “better known as ‘Bad John’.”  It was from him we got the term badjohn, which lexicographer Lise Winer defines as “a kind of ruffian; a man willing to use violence and who likes being known as a dangerous person.”
So the above Mirror report continued:
Bad John,” and a woman named Augusta Wood, were charged by Detective John Dash with fighting in London Street, Corbeaux Town, on Wednesday morning.
“When the woman was arrested a sharp table knife was found in her pocket, and – at this stage the woman was heard to hiss in an under-tone, “I should have killed him”
“Before the stalwart constable at his side was able to divine his meaning the incorrigible “Bad John” hurled himself on the object of his wrath, and with a terrific and lightning-like right-hander on the jaw, sent her reeling against the dock he encircled the woman’s neck with his vice-like fingers, and bit her on her forehead . “In an instant five burly constables and a corporal were upon the fierce combatants trying to separate them. They soon succeeded and “Bad John” was observed to pull a tuft of the woman’s hair from between his teeth.”


He was dangerous all right, to others as well as to himself. Although it seems he had greater success against women, John was an equal-opportunities fighter, tackling women and men indiscriminately, as willing to give a good thrashing as to receive one.
James Inniss, for instance, fought John over a plank of wood on which John intended to sleep. Inniss “fell upon John with his fist and foot and beat him mercilessly… Some time later he again met John on the reclaimed lands and broke a piece of an oar upon his head and again kicked and cuffed him John seized a bottle and struck him on the forehead.”
In another case, Charlie Crab-Back beat John and convinced the magistrate that a woman had paid Bad John to beat him. Crab-Back was fined ten shillings for beating John, who was then sentenced to two months’ hard labour for throwing a bottle at Crab-Back.
His 45 previous convictions turned the magistrate against him, yet Bad John was also famed as a “friend and protector of all little children,” although no exemplary incident has so far come to light.
It’s not certain when John Archer was born. At his death in 1916 he was, according to the Port of Spain Gazette, 62 years old, although three years earlier the Argos had put him at between 76 and 80. We do know, however, that he was born and grew up in Barbados, where as a young man he served in the Second West India Regiment. The combination of a Bajan upbringing and military experience explains much of his character: his fierce loyalty to Britain; his obedience to figures in authority; and his proud if peculiar sense of probity.
Responding in 1904 to a charge of disorderly conduct John stated that he was in St James singing “Rule Britannia, Rule,” for which, ironically, he was arrested.
“He then told the Magistrate that he had been a soldier and would never tell a lie. If he did anything he would say he did it. He had been to gaol 60 times – not once for stealing.”
The magistrate asked: “You want to go up there to spend a few weeks?”. John replied: “Just as you choose, sir, I never fight against a power. I was a soldier.”


Such acceptance never faltered, although he often insisted that he did no wrong and never lied, but magistrates inevitably gave credence to the flimsy evidence of the police.
John “Bad John” Archer had left the regiment and Barbados in the mid-1880s with 300 others to work on the Panama Canal. It was the worst place for him. In the last half of the 19th century Panama experienced 40 administrations, 50 rebellions, five attempted secessions and 13 interventions by the US. Between 1863 and 1886 the isthmus had 26 presidents and almost continuous rebellions.
According to an account in the Argos, “Bad John raised a fearful riot in which 230 of the number were shot dead, and running for his life, he got on board the S.S. Don, which was lying in Colon Harbour. Two days after the S.S. Don was out to sea, the stokers noticed Bad John hiding in the coal bunkers, and he was taken on deck and made to work for his meals.”
He landed in Trinidad in 1887. “On getting here,” continues the Argos, “he was charged as being a stowaway and was sent to gaol for 14 days, that being the maiden imprisonment of his notorious career.”
He worked on the wharves, a very black man in ragged clothes. He frequently wore a battered old beaver hat which held a Union Jack or a small likeness of the king. John read the papers, discussed politics knowledgeably and carried himself with dignity. A fervent Methodist, he regularly attended the Hanover and Tranquillity churches.
“I know him and have always found him very civil and decently spoken,” said one anonymous commentator in the Mirror, who described one of many occasions on which John was arrested: “Presently the policeman asked his captive to wait a moment while he went round the corner in search of a witness. The prisoner affably consented and sat down on the kerb. Sundry evilly disposed persons urged upon him the desirability of vamoosing. But the arrested one said ’no,’ he had promised to stay.”
He held no fear of gaol, where he was the most well-behaved prisoner, because “it is just as the Queen’s Park Hotel to me.”
On the occasion of his 96th conviction, when he was sentenced to 30 days, he shouted to the magistrate: “I thought you would have given me some more.”
Indeed, one limerick published in 1912 has him asking Magistrate Blackwood Wright for a month in gaol because of the high price of food.
The truth is, Bad John disliked going to gaol. He mourned the death of Magistrate H.P. Hopson, who was lenient with him, and he hated Magistrate Wright for his harshness. John swore to suitably celebrate Wright’s retirement, and he kept his promise, informing all that Wright was a dog. For that he was charged with being drunk and disorderly and sent up for seven days.
John also refused to speak to constables, but he had much in common with them, for most were Bajans who spoke only English and hated the rowdy, patois-speaking masses. And the 1880s saw the height of conflict between those of British culture and the rest of the society. Education and the civil service were being anglicised; the Canboulay Carnival procession and the drum dances were outlawed; the Hosay was brutally suppressed; and stern measures were taken against African customs, such as religious practices and especially music-making.
John, naturally, despised the jamettes [A Trini term for a Brash and shameless skanky woman. What separates a jamette from just your average whore is that she is shameless and flaunts her skankyness]. Their anarchy would have gone against everything his Bajan heart held dear. At his trial in August 1904 for assaulting Louisa Brown, who tried to pick his pocket, he refused to cross-examine her. “I have nothing to ask her, she is a common prostitute, and your worship knows what a prostitute is,” he sneered, causing much laughter in court.
Despite all his fights he never took a life, but, rather, saved several.  “When the south-westers blew at the wharf, and craft and men were in danger, none so brave as he in plunging off into the heaving swells to save life and property,” eulogised the white planter Edgar Tripp [secretary of the Agricultural Society and committee member of the Trinidad Chamber of Commerce]: “Some three or four human beings owe their lives to him today – saved by him from the muddy depths of the harbour when seemingly all hope had gone.”

So when a Trini calls you a badJohn, you’ll know the word originated as a descriptor for John “Bad John” Archer: a Barbadian born ex-soldier who had served in the British West India Regiment, ex-Panama Canal worker, ex stowaway and wharf worker who was a notorious habitual criminal in Trinidad in the early 20th century. 

This is a copyrighted 2300 word account of how Rose Mary Young ("Lady Young") got into quite a pickle when she was in Trinidad during WWII. In addition I have provided here links to source material, the Red Cross Committee, Lady Young's letter of March 10, 1940 and Sir Hubert Young's letter of July 3, 1940. I would be very eager to correspond with anyone who is interested in this period of Trinidad's history. I can be reached at kburke9@mac.com. Thanks.
Kevin Burke, Cambridge, Massachusetts
When I arrived in Trinidad for the first time I immediately got a good feeling about Lady Young, based on nothing more than driving up the roadway that bears her name in back of the Hilton Hotel. (That scenic overlook! I thought I was in the south of France!)
I figured Lady Young must have been the wife of a colonial governor and in that regard I was correct – she was the wife of Sir Hubert Young who is remembered in Trinidad today as the man who suspended carnival during World War II. In my mind I pictured her as a model of feminine delicacy – hosting a tea party, cutting a ceremonial ribbon, all smiles – but in this regard I was much mistaken. In reality she was a tall, strapping woman who had earned a reputation as a daring aviatrix in her previous posting in Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia). Also – she was not at all ladylike. In her four years in Trinidad she showed herself to be fearsome, self-important, and, like her husband, a bit of a bully.
Sir Hubert was brought to Trinidad in 1938 to deal with the labour unrest that resulted in bloody riots the year before – twelve people shot dead by police. The Colonial Office felt he was just the man to take charge because of his earlier success in breaking a strike by copper miners in Northern Rhodesia. His reputation preceded him to Trinidad. Prior to his arrival, labour leaders, led by Capt. A.A. Cipriani, marched through the streets of Port of Spain with signs reading, “WARM WELCOME SIR ‘HITLER’ YOUNG”, “BREAD, NOT BULLETS” and “TRINIDAD IS NOT RHODESIA”.
It was against this ominous backdrop that Lady Young set about creating new lines of discontent based on the prickliness of her own personality. She quickly came to feel unappreciated, even rejected, by her own people – the white British establishment. Her paranoia mounted and finally on 10th March, 1940 she snapped. Dipping her pen in bile she dashed off a letter to the Secretary of State for the Colonies, Malcolm McDonald, a letter so ill advised and harmful to her own cause that I suspect she was in an altered state when she wrote it.
The letter began this way:
“Unfortunately as you know matters have not improved. It is all too stupid and in the middle of a War, or arising out of a War is too deplorable. Unfortunately also, nothing much that we can do will mend matters, as these people and the whole section – a small and vehement one they come from, have not even had manners they have no conception of manners, loyalty, or any other civilized virtue. They simply don’t live in the same box as ordinary human beings, one cannot calculate what any of their reactions are; they are as strange and remote morally as the Africans and low Caste Indians who have, as everything tends to sink, – much influenced the whole trend of life in these islands.”
OOF! When I first came across this quotation (in a book) there was no context. I wondered – what “matters” was she talking about? Who were “these people”? I assumed she must have been referring to anti-colonial activists like Capt. Cipriani and Albert Gomes – her natural adversaries. But no. It turned out her chief nemesis was the doyenne of Trinidadian society, an Anglo/Scottish woman named Martha Eunice Simpson. Her family owned the immensely valuable Aranguez Estate in San Juan. Her father had been mayor of Port of Spain.
The vendetta between Lady Young and Mrs Simpson began innocently enough. In the summer of 1939 Lady Young founded a chapter of the Red Cross Society in Trinidad and with great fanfare installed herself as its president. As was her wont, Lady Young demanded total deference from everyone in the exercise of her pet project.
About a month later the war broke out. Mrs Simpson quickly recruited four of her friends and formed a group, calling it the “Ladies’ Shirt Guild” whose purpose was to make articles of clothing for the war relief effort. (She had done the same thing during WWI.) Critically, Lady Young was in Tobago at the time and knew nothing about it. The guild members were some of the most prominent women in the colony, including Dora Gilchrist and Edna Gordon. Dora was the wife of Trinidad’s chief justice, Edna a member of the fabulously wealthy Gordon clan. As a leading historian has pointed out, ladies of this social class “did no housework, never marketed, and rarely cooked.”
But, in times of trouble, they sewed. On 22nd September Mrs Simpson wrote directly to Queen Elizabeth offering to send articles of clothing to Buckingham Palace and received an enthusiastic reply. This was big news in Port of Spain as it was whenever the royal family took notice of Trinidad. On 5th November the TRINIDAD GUARDIAN printed the letter from the Palace under the headline: “THE QUEEN THANKS TRINIDAD CLUB”. In boldface below was Mrs Simpson’s name.
When Lady Young saw this she went ballistic. Mrs Simpson and her informal group had stolen the spotlight away from her and the Red Cross! It was a situation that required tact and persuasion, but Lady Young preferred steamroller tactics. At a meeting at Government House on 9th November, 1939 Lady Young, accompanied by her husband, berated Mrs Simpson for writing to the queen behind her back and tried to browbeat her into quitting the guild and falling into line with the Red Cross relief effort.
This heavy-handed approach only served to stiffen Mrs Simpson’s spine. She wouldn’t back down. On 14th November, making no mention of the Red Cross or Lady Young, she sent two packing cases to Buckingham Palace, filled with “shirts, pyjamas, bedsocks, pads, splints, nightingales, scarves & pullovers.”
Governor Young called it an “act of defiance.” Indeed, Trinidad was not Rhodesia.
What began as a folie à deux entered a new phase with the husbands, Sir Hubert Young, KCMG, DSO and Major G.H. Simpson, OBE, entering the ring, tag-team style, to take up the fight in defence of their wives. Over the next two months the two men locked horns and demanded concessions and “withdrawals” from each other. Forgotten was the war relief effort. It became simply a grudge match, a battle of wills. In an earlier day they would have settled it with pistols at thirty paces.
To use Lady Young’s term, yes, it was all “too stupid”. The only reason to mention it today is to shed light on a dynamic that is not well known – the tension that existed between the white elite and the governor, not just Hubert Young, but all governors. As Sir Hubert put it:
“[T]he Simpson episode is not an isolated incident, or a question merely of discourtesy shown by a local lady and her husband to my wife and myself, but a symptom of a state of affairs in this Colony which has done incalculable harm in the past . . . There are in this Colony certain disaffected persons who are always on the look-out for an opportunity to take up an attitude of antagonism to the Governor . . . These are the people whose malicious unkindness to officials from overseas and their wives is a well known feature of social life in Trinidad.”
*          *          *
In early 1940 there came a major escalation of the dispute when the Simpsons decided to petition the Secretary of State for the Colonies for redress of their grievances, laying out the whole affair from their point of view. Governor and Lady Young rebutted the charges with their own version of events. It was against this backdrop of pettiness and spitefulness that Lady Young penned her infamous letter of 10th March.
The letter was a ghastly mistake on several counts. For one thing, although it was marked “private and personal,” the letter was widely shared in the Colonial Office – to the shock and alarm of everyone. Under Secretary of State W.B.L. Monson rushed to keep his boss from being pulled into the quagmire: “I feel that no comment on the substance of the letter can be made by the S. of S.”, he wrote on 15th April. The following day Asst. Secretary Harold Beckett spoke for the entire office when he wrote in his minutes:
“The fact that this is just an hysterical outburst must not blind us to the fact that Lady Young is saying what she really thinks. It does not make a very good mental background for anybody occupying the position of ‘lady’ of a West Indian (or indeed any other) Governor.”
As time dragged on with no response from Downing St., Governor and Lady Young realised their support was slipping away. They became completely unhinged. On 3rd July, 1940 Sir Hubert wrote, in a desperate letter to the Secretary of State, “They [the Simpsons] indulge in every form of slander and misrepresentation and also in victimisation and intimidation in some of their vilest forms.” Mrs Simpson’s entire family was “eccentric, self-willed, and well known for their intolerant attitude.” As for the tempest in a teapot created by his wife, he tried to inflate it into “an official matter of paramount importance to the successful prosecution of the war.” He even came up with a novel two-part theory to explain why Mrs Simpson had snubbed the Red Cross in the first place – first, jealousy (Mrs Simpson was supposedly “piqued” that she had not been appointed to the executive committee) and secondly, racial prejudice (she felt the Red Cross Society was “undesirably mixed” in terms of skin colour.) The latter charge was a real head-scratcher – of the twenty-nine people on the executive committee, twenty-seven were white and two were Indian.
Finally, on 13th August, 1940 – almost a full year after the formation of the Ladies’ Shirt Guild – the Secretary of State for the Colonies informed Governor Young that Mrs Simpson had been cleared by the Queen of any wrongdoing by writing to offer her assistance. It was a near total victory for the Simpsons and a stunning letdown for Governor and Lady Young.
Somehow – hard to figure – Sir Hubert was allowed to remain in his post. What happened next, though, could not be abided – his refusal to go along with the occupation of the island by U.S. military forces in 1941. For example, when the U.S. Navy proposed Chaguaramas as the site of its operating base, Sir Hubert argued for another location – the Caroni swamp. (We all know how that worked out.) In early 1942 the Colonial Office recalled him to London, citing “ill health” as the reason. A bully had been out-bullied.
As the Youngs were packing their bags, an ambitious plan was being floated for a new highway connecting the roundabout in St. Ann’s with the Eastern Main Rd. Although a name was not really necessary at that point, it was announced that the roadway would be named for the wife of the departing governor. Perhaps it was in recognition of all the abuse she had suffered. As a GUARDIAN editorial put it, “Firm, untiring, and constant, Lady Young has been a source of strength in the midst of many perplexities.” Many, to be sure.
Lady Young’s last day in Trinidad was 2nd April, 1942. As she walked to a waiting seaplane a photographer snapped a photo. On the left Governor Young looked like a cartoon version of a British colonial official – complete with bowler hat and walking stick. In the middle was Molly Huggins, wife of the Colonial Secretary, who seemed to be enjoying herself. On the right Lady Young was captured arching her back and clutching a briefcase. She appeared to be glowering at the photographer.
Before she got on the plane she was quoted as saying she “hoped that they might return one day on holiday,” but of course she had no intention of doing so. She hated Trinidad. Although she lived for another thirty-nine years she never set foot in Trinidad again.
The right time to return would have been on 3rd June, 1959 – the day the Lady Young Road was opened to motor traffic. It had taken seventeen years of digging and delay to create a paved path through the rugged terrain. In that period Trinidad had changed utterly. The power of the royally appointed governor had faded almost to nothing. A new group, the People’s National Movement, had won a majority in the legislative council. Mrs Simpson, whose family had enjoyed preferred seating in Trinidad for over a hundred years, pulled up her stakes and moved to South Africa. People barely remembered the tart-tongued lady who founded the Red Cross.
With the opening of the road, the term ‘Lady Young’ took on a new meaning that was kind of hard to describe. GUARDIAN staff writer Carl Jacobs (later editor) tried to explain it this way on 5th June, 1959, “long before Wednesday’s opening, the project had attained a secret glamour that might well have converted the name of Lady Young into an abundantly fascinating personality.” And so it was – ‘Lady Young’ was transformed into an eponymous ribbon of road and a disembodied presence that replaced the memory of a flesh and blood woman who wanted to have everything done her way.

This David Moore painting is yet another excellent rendition showing the arrival of a TGR Train. Probably the 1:05 pm ex Port of Spain or perhaps the 4:25 pm.
Note the figures on the right: The Station Master who is second from right is receiving the "tablet" from the Engine Driver or is it the Fireman?
Notice the colours of the coaches indicate the real TGR, pre-PTSC.
That Gentleman with the children should not be walking on the tracks, but this is merely artistic licence.
On a normal day(during school time) the 4:25 pm ex POS would depart with 700 or so persons. These coaches had a capacity of 96 passengers seated (2 per seat), or 144 sitting 3 per seat.
That large wagon at the back of the train, behind the four coaches is the Brake Van. That would also carry excess passengers and any wheelchair passenger. In a previous time it would also carry the goods of small traders who would have made their purchases in Port of Spain.
If it is the 4:25 pm, it would sleep overnight in Arima to be joined later by the 6:10 pm ex POS. They would depart next morning at 6:29 am and 7:00 am for Port of Spain.
In the last years of the Railway the 6:29 am became 6:30 am.
The 6:29 am would run non-stop from San Juan, omitting Barataria, Morvant and Laventille arriving Port of Spain 7:31 am with a steam engine or 7:33 am with a diesel-electric engine.
Essentially the running-time was 1 hour 8 minutes making all the stops.
Thanks to Glen Beadon for sharing this article written by his friend on ABVMOTT.
"Credit must go to my good friend Mr Ruthven Bunting. A beautifully written account of this magnificent painting by another friend, the one and only, David Moore.
Source" Virtual Museum of TT

The Red House has been pro­claimed as the place for the con­tin­u­a­tion of Par­lia­ment.
A state­ment from the Par­lia­ment yes­ter­day showed a le­gal no­tice signed by Pres­i­dent Paula-Mae Weekes where she ap­point­ed the Red House as the place at which the Fifth Ses­sion of the Eleventh Par­lia­ment shall con­tin­ue.
Here is the full text of the procla­ma­tion be­low:
WHERE­AS it is pro­vid­ed by sub­sec­tion (1) of sec­tion 67 of the Con­sti­tu­tion of the Re­pub­lic of Trinidad and To­ba­go, that each ses­sion of Par­lia­ment shall be held at such place with­in Trinidad and To­ba­go and shall com­mence at such time as the
Restora­tion works have been on­go­ing at the Red House, which housed Par­lia­ment for decades.
Last last year it was an­nounced that sit­tings of the Up­per and Low­er House would re­turn to the Red House this month af­ter be­ing housed at the In­ter­na­tion­al Wa­ter­front Com­plex, Port-of-Spain for the last eight years.
Gov­ern­ment said last year it would take some time for Par­lia­ment staff and op­er­a­tions to move in­to the Red House and this would be done dur­ing while the hous­es were on re­cess.
It was not the first time the his­toric Red House had to be re­stored or re­built.
The orig­i­nal build­ing was de­stroyed in 1903 wa­ter ri­ots and re­built in 1907.
It was giv­en its fa­mous coat of red paint in 1897 when this coun­try, which made up British colonies, pre­pared to cel­e­brate then Queen Vic­to­ria’s di­a­mond ju­bilee.
Pres­i­dent may by Procla­ma­tion ap­point:
Now, there­fore, I, PAULA-MAE WEEKES, Pres­i­dent as afore­said, do here­by ap­point the Red House, Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, as the place at which the Fifth Ses­sion of the Eleventh Par­lia­ment of the Re­pub­lic of Trinidad and To­ba­go shall con­tin­ue.
Giv­en un­der my Hand and the Seal of the Pres­i­dent of the Re­pub­lic of Trinidad and To­ba­go at the Of­fice of the Pres­i­dent, St. Ann’s, this 10th day of Jan­u­ary, 2020.
Source: Trinidad Guardian, Jan 16, 2020