Today nothing remains of this railway line which wended its way through the sylvan town of Walmer in the early twentieth century. Not even a memory, the sound of the whistle or the smell of the coal fired engine which traversed the arboreal streets such as Villiers and Water Road all the way to the municipal boundary at 14th Avenue recalls this miniature train.
Main picture: Narrow gauge train leaving the Main Station in Port Elizabeth Continue reading
Originally the sea waves crashed to shore where Strand Streets lies today. Devoid of jetties, piers or breakwaters, the beaches stretching from the current Campanile to the South End were used as landing beaches.
In 1857, this situation was to change. Ultimately the sandy beaches along this stretch of coast was to be replaced by a sea wall. Exactly why it was named a quay and not an embankment cannot be ascertained.
Main picture: Victoria Quay from the North Jetty Continue reading
In his thesis on the development of the Port Elizabeth Harbour, Mr E.J. Inggs raises some interesting facts not only about the convoluted path to the ultimate construction of a harbour but also the operation and importance of Port Elizabeth’s harbour to the Cape Colony.
Apart from these aspects, what really piqued my interest was the issue of the wage levels of the Mfengu Beach Labour, as he calls the cargo loaders and unloaders. Their remuneration perfectly reflects what Economics 101 identifies as a fundamental factor in economics viz supply and demand.
Main picture: Mfengu unloading cargo from surfboats
The long saga to erect a lighthouse at Cape Recife is covered by this blog.
Main picture: Cape Recife Lighthouse
These settlements were never called suburbs or townships but colloquially they were known as locations ab initio . What is less well known is that there were various black settlements in Port Elizabeth from its earliest days. Their inhabitants were generally Khoi but later came the Mfengu after the British authorities granted them rights to live here in 1851.
Conspicuously absent from central Port Elizabeth is even fragmentary evidence of their location dwellings or artefacts. All that remains of these settlements are some footnotes to history. Ultimately these residents were relocated to Red Location and New Brighton in the early part of the 20th century.
This blog attempts to set that right.
Main picture: Part of Stranger’s Location at the top of the hill next to Russell Road
Happy Valley was a magical place for young kids and probably still is even for the jaded visual palates of today. In the daytime it is a pleasant stroll alongside the babbling brook that is the lower reaches of that misnomer, the Shark River, where it spills out under the bridge into Humewood Beach. There are lily ponds, rockeries, gigantic palms and peaceful retreats in which to sit. Every few meters there is another delightful interpretation of a fairy tale or nursery rhyme scene to consider.
Main Street: Aerial view of Happy Valley with Humewood beach on the upper right
Comedians like to jest that the shortest book per the tome, Guinness World Records, is about Italian War Heroes. Undoubtedly, a book on Port Elizabeth in 1812 would be a close second.
This extremely brief blog is a comprehensive description of the area which was yet to be christened Port Elizabeth.
Main picture: A decade before the arrival of the 1820 settlers
Of all the early inhabitants of the nascent Port Elizabeth, Frederick Korsten deserves to be remembered, yet there is no tribute to him. The most fitting monument would have been the preservation of his former magnificent home but even that now lies in ruin.
Even a comprehensive biography would have salved our conscience yet even that road to salvation has been rejected. John Centlivres did make an attempt in 1868, yet in length it is little more than that of a eulogy. What he fails to mention or even allude to, is that Frederick Korsten was his father-in-law, nor does he provide an insight into what made him tick.
Such disdain for history reflects poorly on the denizens of Algoa Bay.
Main picture: Frederick Korsten
Hard tailed Hogs with their equally hard tailed chicks on the back burbled laid back into town from points North and West, occasionally emitting an ear shattering bark to serve notice of a weekend of mayhem. The Kawas, Hondas and Yammies made a more strident entrance, racing between robots but the attitude, chicks and threads were the same. It was September 1977 and 4000 horsemen of the Apocalypse – well the Nomads Motorcycle club amongst others – had descended on PE for a weekend of exhaust fumes and burning rubber fueled by high octane petrol as well as high octane chicks, brandy and rum – Coke optional.
Main picture: The 1978 massed bike parade through the city
This blog is based mainly upon the reminiscences in the 1940s of Anthony Scallan who was born on the first floor of his father’s shop in Main Street on 12nd October 1952. Below, the sign on the shop front, it read, “James Scallan, Tailor.” This business was run by John’s grandfather, James Scallan, an early Settler but not strictly 1820, and by his father, Patric [sic], who had been born in 1822.
This blog vividly recounts what Main Street was like in an era when most buildings were double-storied with the upstairs area being the family’s home.
Join me on a journey to a long-lost world of early Main Street, not only the buildings but also some of the characters that inhabited them.
Main picture: Brister’s furniture makers in Main Street just before Donkin Street Continue reading