It seems a force is determined to deprive residents of Allman Town and other long-established communities in mid-town Kingston from what could have been put to use, long ago, to create a recreation space which could add to the quality of life of citizens long resident there.

Heroes’ Park is an area getting set to be hauled and pulled again. Why couldn’t they have a park like others did? Whoever benefits, it won’t be the citizens, some believe.

I am fully aware that Heroes’ Park is, for some people of power, a big, valuable piece of public land which has been sitting there for years, waiting to be developed, which, being interpreted is, “make money”, especially for those who have nuff already.

The big, open land which is called Heroes’ Park has a longer, stronger history than most of us know. It is a unique, urban area. Before the name Heroes’ Park emerged, it was called “Race Course”, a historic landmark. People in the know can tell of a time past when it was not “Caymanas” or Knutsford Park, which claimed the spotlight for horse racing.

Today’s people were not around for the early days of horses, but there are stories of big tents for visiting circuses. I fall under the visiting circus era with an unforgettable experience of a visit to a circus in Race Course when a lion got loose. He walked quietly around while adults and pickney alike shivered. He was caught and returned to captivity, leaving stories to be told forever.

Then, there was another headliner when the famous Paul Robeson came to entertain with his amazing voice in a concert at Race Course. The evening came to a painful end when one (or it could be more), of the stands, which were occupied by a large and active audience, broke down, taking several patrons, young and not so young, to injury and a few to their death. The death toll included a young cousin of our extended family. It bears a painful memory still.

Race Course that night was no place for enjoyment. It was all over the news. Our side of the family, fortunately, was not present. And, for a while, our enthusiasm for Race Course was almost wiped out as a place of recreation.

History books bear testimony to the varied nature of Race Course events, for instance, when an exposition staged there brought to Jamaica distinguished guests from far-off lands. Some of it was beyond my time, so I could only settle for hearsay, but from what was told to us, big tings did gwaan.

While our family continued to live in Allman Town, a friendly community, Race Course became the scene of popular sports events, among them, cycle riding and boxing. Contenders put into those games all the skill they possessed and were rewarded with prizes and titles.

The eldest son in our family, brother Howie, excelled in cycle racing, but didn’t waste time talking about it for talking sake. When word spread of a promising young cyclist who led the field on the cycling track at Race Course, it was then our parents and the rest of the family discovered that we had a star with us. From then on, we associated our brother with the saying: “A man of few words”.

There was a section of the extensive area called Race Course which was reserved for boxing. A gym was developed on the western side of the property and became very popular, but eventually, for reasons I still do not know, it was dismantled. Travel around the western area of the space and talk with the elders — as far as some are concerned it is still Race Course. It is likely that you will get an earful of what Race Course used to mean to Kingstonians. It provided space to kick football. There was where many were taught how to ride a bicycle. Young boxers earned their victories from training at the gym. Then, one day, we got awake to find that the great Race Course days were over.

When lifestyles in the area changed, Race Course became neglected. Imagine how much more could have been done for athletics in an area still surrounded by many schools, even now. If somebody had only had the foresight and the will to care for the needs of a new and creative people the name Race Course might still be revered and respected. If there had been courage to develop Race Course, not only Allman Town, but other areas, today it would be an essential part of mid-Kingston.

There still remains many schools in and around the heart of the city, from east to west Kingston, where young people could have benefited in their growing-up years. And even now, they could have maintained organised sports facilities and programmes and have them made available to youngsters.

Unfortunately, Race Course has been neglected and the area allowed to degenerate into a dust bowl and a car park. Even today, there are occasional bouts of criticism of the authorities as to why Race Course has been allowed to degenerate. Response has been rare.

The title “National Heroes Park” replaced the old brand, and today, even

Wikipedia, a foreign source of our own information, can educate us on what was and what is. Meanwhile, research reveals that it goes all the way back to 1783 that the park was originally a race track called “Kingston Race Course”. Poor King George didn’t even know where we were, but they tacked on his name and christened the place for him.

By 1905, George gave way to Knutsford Park and George VI Memorial Park. Gradually, over the years, many other developments have tried to be a big success, but “not to that”. It eventually became a place of heroes, a place of monuments, each keeping alive the memory of our heroes, from post-slavery to now.

Will plunking down the Parliament building there now make a relevant contribution?

When the current “Prince of Parliament” decided to declare earlier this week his intention to pack up and move Parliament from the corner of Duke Street and Beeston Street in downtown Kingston to the aforesaid Race Course land it was another round for conversation. Here we go again, redefining Race Course. This is not the first time that a prince of Parliament is flexing power in this field.

There have been more than one predecessor to the throne before him who was determined — or so it was said — to make a move. The belief apparently is that a new location would have made a better Parliament. In time, however, as soon as one would-be Prince begins to show off what the new Parliament would be like, kass-kass begins.

A popular view has always been: Why spend up big money to make the trek from downtown to midtown, especially when we have other bills to pay? Will the move-up improve the quality of Parliament?

It is early days yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we hear the same complaint again soon.

Question time, Mister Speaker, please to hear my voice: Will prosperity arrive in time to pay for “Race Course”? From where will funding come? Taxes or taxis?

Farewell to a genius friend

Walk good, Derek. The first poetic line I can recall hearing from you (1960s), “Trees with white socks”. You seem to have seen that phenomenon soon after you arrived on The University of the West Indies campus and saw trees whitewashed halfway. And what about “Jamaica is a wearing-out place.” Echoes of the seventies. You weren’t laughing at us. You were just being introduced to us. Walk good, friend. Glad to have known you.

Barbara Gloudon is a journalist, playwright and commentator. Send comments to the Observer or gloudonb@yahoo.com.