The Venue-ization of Devon House

The losses pile up...

I used to be a regular visitor to Devon House. My office was nearby, so I often went for a lunchtime patty, eaten in the shady courtyard, met friends for drinks after work under the mahogany tree near the Grog Shoppe, stopped for ice cream on a Sunday night, took house guests there to stroll around the grounds and admire the old house.

I stopped going four years ago, when I attempted to walk with a visitor to the imposing front entrance, maybe to take a picture. We were stopped by a security guard, who said the driveway and front of the house was not open to the public.

“We just want to look at it,” I said.

“Not allowed,” he said.

“We can’t walk on the driveway?” I thought he was trying to keep us off the grass.

“No Miss,” he said.

I sought out the Devon House office, expressed my outrage, but yes, it was true – no one was allowed to walk to the front unless part of a tour or paying location fees.

On the rare occasions I went there for fairs or events after that, I could see how well used the grounds were – people having picnics, children eating ice cream. It was still ours.

Devon House was built on the grounds of the former rectory of the St Andrew Parish Church, by Jamaica’s first Black millionaire, George Stiebel. He was the son of a Jamaican housekeeper and a German Jew, who made his money from gold mining in South America. He returned to Jamaica to his wife and the love of his life, Magdalen Baker, to build the mansion of his imagination at the age of 60. Devon House was completed in 1881 and featured the trappings of great wealth – from a racetrack on the grounds to a ballroom cooled by imported blocks of ice. The courtyard was originally the old kitchen – kitchens were not included in wooden houses at the time – servants’ quarters and stables. George Stiebel died in 1896 and the house passed to his daughter, Theresa Stiebel Jackson.  

Devon House stood at the junction of Trafalgar and Hope Roads, so called Millionaires Corner, due to the three mansions there – Abbey Court, Reka Dom and Devon House. After Abbey Court was destroyed in the 1960s to build apartments, there was a similar plan to turn Devon House into a condominium, according to Enid Shields’ book, Devon House Families, or a gas station, according to local lore. Then Prime Minister, the Rt Hon Edward Seaga, acquired the property for the people of Jamaica and piloted a major renovation, done by architect Ton Concannon. Mr Seaga also sought to commercialize the property, so that it could pay its way. There was concern at the time regarding the preservation of Devon House’s heritage, but the renovation was done, and the small buildings of the courtyard became the shops we know today. Devon House was renovated again in the 1980s and in a city with a paucity of green areas, became somewhere for Jamaicans with few other opportunities for outdoor recreation to enjoy.

Fast forward to the extraordinarily misguided current ‘renovation’ of the courtyard. I’m sure there were issues – some were mentioned, poor drainage, uneven walkways, a dangerous (!) tree, the cost of maintaining green spaces and gardens, but surely there were other ways of addressing those problems? I have heard the cries to wait until the landscaping is finished – but you can already see what has been done, what the courtyard has been reduced to. A charming recreational space with the bones of the outbuildings of the old house intact has been made into a hardscape reminiscent of a shopping mall in Florida – no attempt to preserve historical integrity, no attention to charm or appeal, just the same look as nearly everything that’s being built now. You could be in a supermarket food court, a ‘developed’ public beach, the car park of the high-rise buildings going up all over Kingston. You could be anywhere in the world – anywhere that does not value its history or its distinctiveness.

What, really, is the point of naming anywhere a National Monument or a Historic Site, if this is how it is to be treated? Devon House is hardly alone – nearby Vale Royal is falling down, the Halfway Tree courthouse was renovated decades ago, I’m not sure if it was ever used thereafter, and is now also returning to dust. If we are really willing for our built heritage to be obliterated – every old house, church and bridge – then let’s just say so and stop the pretence of protection.

Devon House also has an important role as a green space. Some of the responses to the courtyard desecration from officialdom have been that it is only a small percentage of the property. That is true. But much of the property is accessible only under certain circumstances – paid tours, specified days of the week. I would like the management of Devon House to declare those restrictions – is it still the case that a Jamaican is not allowed even to look at George Stiebel’s house from the front? Can we sit under the big trees any day of the week?  

What has happened to Devon House is part of the crass, inauthentic venue-ization of Jamaica. Places of historical or natural significance cannot simply be – they must be made over into a place of paid recreation, often for tourists, with every aspect of their Jamaican-ness, their ecological, cultural or historical value destroyed. We’ve seen it happen to our beaches all over the island. And I can’t help thinking that the driving force behind this project is the new cruise ship pier at Port Royal. Did I mention that Devon House is no longer under the Ministry of Culture? It’s the purview of the Ministry of Tourism.    

The novelist in me loves George Stiebel’s story. It has everything, the mixed race young man, shunned by those with wealth and power, his ambition and willingness to take risks, his travels, the fortune made, the mansion built, a great love – even a curse, said to have brought repeated tragedy to the family. Why would we not make every effort to preserve the physical remnants of his legacy? Put another way, Devon House has MEANING.  

Many say nothing can be done now. But concrete and bricks can be jackhammered up – the constructions of men can be undone by men. I remember the outrage in the 1980s regarding the aviary erected on the lawns – and it was removed. That is my hope – that those whose responsibility is to protect Jamaican history and culture, to make a liveable city for all its residents, will understand a grave mistake has been made and wheel and come again.    

For more on Devon House, see the small book entitled Devon House Families by Enid Shields, available from Ian Randle Publishers.

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