Prince
Monolulu and The
Pearlie's
(Picture
kindly supplied by Mr.
Jernst Pearson)
When I
look back on my childhood
growing up in the East
End of London, it seemed
to me that the place was
filled with a wonderful
collection of raggle-taggle
people who today would be
most likely be thought of
as colourful
characters. Now, I am
not sure whether there
were more of these
characters walking about
then or if I am seeing my
past in hindsight.
However, what I do notice
today is that many people
I meet or see on
television are working
really hard at being
different or unique and
failing badly. People
would be far more
interesting if they
behaved as themselves and
stopped the pretence.
Anyway I will not argue
with any of you who
believe that I was
looking at the world
through younger eyes in
the past and not with the
jaded ones that perhaps I
use now and so saw the
world differently.
Of the
many colourful characters
I remember, I would like
to introduce you to three
special ones. These
characters, although not
the strangest or even the
most bizarre I have ever
came across in my life
were however amongst the
most interesting. Each of
them held a fascination
for me and now holds a
special place in my
memory.
 The
first character that I
want to introduce you to
is Prince Monolulu.
This man was larger
than life and, to say
the least, a colourful
character par
excellence. He made
for an exotic figure when
seen in his colourful
clothes. One could not
help but stop and look at
this amazing man whenever
he appeared. But as
remarkable as he was to
see, it was his
formidable personality
and charm that held the
attention of his audience
and would make him the
centre of attention
wherever he went.
The Prince
came to prominence in
1920 when he picked the
winning horse of The
Derby and won, for
what was at that time, a
small fortune. Following
this, he was often seen
on the Newsreels shown
in the cinemas of that
time when reporting of a
special meet of The
Sport of Kings. As
his popularity grew, he
began to be sought out by
both working people and society
people alike. However
the public interest in
the Prince went beyond
their love of his dress
and winning charm, people
believed that he was
empowered with some extra
knowledge and knew which
horse would win a race.
There is
nothing more potent than
someone thought to have extra
knowledge and
especially someone with a
knowledge that could lead
to the making of money.
Without doubt, the Prince
was both a shrewd and
clever man who knew when
he was onto something.
Certainly, he did not
dress in such a colourful
style and learn to charm
simply to amuse society.
The Prince was many
things, but first and
foremost, he was a
businessman and in the
business of turning a
profit. He knew how
to present himself to his
adoring public and did so
to the best of his
abilities. And since just
about everyone in Britain
enjoyed a flutter on
the races at some time,
just about everyone would
be interested in getting a
tip in the hope of
winning a few bob.
What harm was there in
that? The Prince being a
man of generosity was
naturally willing to
share his knowledge with
the punters and
would pass them neatly
folded pieces of paper
with the name of a horse
scribbled on it in pencil
in return for a small
sum. As a result,
everyone would be happy.
The first
time that I saw the
Prince, I was very young.
Being young, I did not
have the good fortune to
see him at a racetrack. I
first saw him surrounded
by a large crowd and
holding court down the
lane. The Lane
was Petticoat Lane,
the famous street market
that took place every
Sunday morning from an
early hour until about 1
p.m. There is, or was, an
old law that made it an
offence to sell certain
articles on a Sunday
after 1 p.m. Whether this
law is still in effect
now that Sunday shopping
has come to Britain, I do
not know. However, Sunday
street markets like the Columbia
Street flower market,
Brick Lane and Petticoat
Lane still close up
at this time.
To return
to the Prince: having
been born in the East End
of London, and close to
the docks, I was used to
seeing and talking to
people that came from
different parts of the
world. Bethnal Green had
been a haven for
immigrants over the years
and there were many
living there from Africa,
India and Pakistan. As a
result, the Prince was
not the first black man
that I had seen. However,
he was the first black
man, and indeed, the
first man that I had ever
seen that was dressed in
his manner.
My first
encounter with the Prince
was not by sight, but
rather by sound. He had
been blessed with a loud
voice and my attention
was drawn to the sound of
someone yelling something
out in the distance. As
we came closer, I could
see a crowd of people and
I could hear I gotta
horse ………
I gotta horse.
Suddenly, the crowd
seemed to part and there
before him in full
regalia was the Prince. I
stood there astonished at
the sight of this
majestic looking man. The
Prince was, or so I
thought, of an enormous
height that seemed to
equal the size of his
personality. I found him
overwhelming. Whether he
was actually of an enormous
height, I cannot say,
but what must have added
to his height was the
large headdress of
coloured ostrich plumes
that he wore on his head.
This made for an amazing
sight, especially to a
small and impressionable
child.
The
remainder of his clothes
was equally imaginative
and decorative. He wore
baggy multi-coloured
trousers along with a
black and gold doublet.
On that day, he also wore
a long silk open robe of
multiple colours that
swayed and swooshed as
he moved. On his bare
feet, he wore sandals and
he carried a large
multi-coloured umbrella
on his arm. I suspect
that he used the open
umbrella to signify his
location in any large
crowd and so guide
prospective punters his
way. However, when he was
in the vicinity, one
always knew exactly where
he was since his beaming
voice would carry a large
distance and help
identify his location.
As the
reader can tell, the
Prince made for a
remarkable figure. I
remember being at a loss
to explain who he
was. Was he a king? Was
he a great potentate from
an exotic land? Anyway,
completely bewitched by
the gentleman’s
obvious magnetism, I
pulled my parents in his
direction. Being small, I
was able to get close to
this giant, as I needed
to get a closer look at
this magnificent sight. I
did not get too close to
him since although I
found him fascinating, he
was also somewhat
frightening to me on that
first occasion. Through
gaps in the crowd, I
could see that he
displayed a regal
deportment in his
movement and in his
manner of talking. There
was little doubt that I
was by now both intrigued
and very much taken
by him. After all, it was
not every day that one
saw such a figure
strutting down the
street.
It seemed
that the Prince was never
alone when in public.
Naturally, he was always
at the centre of any
group and would revel in
the admiration shown him.
In their midst, he would
hold court and answer
questions, but mostly he
would give his opinion on
any and all subjects in
his loud and booming
voice. He was a very
animated character and
would waive his arms
about as he spoke or
bellowed. Since his voice
could be heard far into
the distance, he proved
to be his own publicity
agent, informing those in
the area that the
Prince was holding court
today! I stood
amongst the crowd and was
completely captivated. I
am sure that I stood with
my mouth open and was
totally oblivious to
everything else about me.
The Prince
was not just a colourful
character and business
man, he was friendly and
a person who encouraged
the adulation of
children. After standing
in the crowd for a minute
or so, the Prince noticed
me. I remember that he beckoned
me to come forward
and join him. He demanded
that his adoring
courtiers make way for me
and soon a path opened up
allowing me to pass
through his court and
stand before him. I
remember not being afraid
as I made my way. He
welcomed me into his
presence and then
bellowed a number of
questions at me in order
to find out who I was. I
was told by my parents
that he asked me about
school and how I had done
that week along with
various other enquiries.
Without waiting for a
reply, the Prince
apparently launched into
the topic of the
importance of education
and the joys of being a
schoolboy. Naturally, I
was the only one present
who did not think it was
that joyful to go
to school.
At my
first audience with the
Prince he bellowed at me
to ask whether I liked
horses. I said that I did
The Prince appeared
overjoyed by my reply and
turning to his audience
he told them that
naturally I was destined
to become a JOCKEY!
I remember that he next
burst into laughter and
then began searching the
satchel that he always
carried. After a minute
or two, he pulled
something out that he
next plunged into my
hand, which he vigorously
shook. Once free, I
looked at the treasure he
had passed on to me. It
was a penny. I looked up
at him. The Prince was
beaming his wide
infectious smile and
displaying his somewhat
broken teeth. He next
concluded his business
with me by telling me to
use his gift
towards the purchase of a
HORSE!!! The
audience clapped heartily
and with that the Prince
once again let out his
ear piercing catchphrase I
gotta horse! And then
he was off to another
subject and another
interest.
Once
my audience with the
Prince was over, I was
taken from his presence
by my parents and made to
move off to look at
something on a stall.
Naturally, my head was
spinning. I was
bewildered by what he
said and remember asking
my parents if they
thought that I was indeed
meant to be a
jockey. I kept that penny
for years and for all I
know I may still have it
since I have a horde of
old pennies in a wooden
moneybox that I have had
since that time.
Whenever I
went to the Lane
after my first audience,
I would always look for
the Prince. I would
listen for his call and
look for his umbrella.
Upon his noticing me, I
would be called forward
to take up a spot before
him and he would talk to
me for a minute or so. I
always treasured those
little meetings and saw
them as something special
in my life.
Once I
moved from the East End,
I never came face-to-face
with the Prince again.
However, I did see him
once more at a race
meeting in Brighton at
number of years later. By
then I was older and had
become just another
courtier amongst his
admiring crowd. Although
I had long since realized
that his prediction for
my future profession was
not going to come true,
for some reason I did not
want him to know. I am
certain that his
prediction of my future
had been one of pure
showmanship and made
without malice for the
amusement of the crowd
that day. However when I
saw him that day in
Brighton, looking just as
he did when I was a
child, I could not bring
myself to talk to him and
remind him of our
previous meetings. I had
treasured my
first meeting with
the Prince and did not
want him to think that
perhaps I had failed to
follow my destiny. I
felt that he might have
been disappointed to
learn this. Of course
this is total silliness
on my part but then
…………..
I was in
college when I heard the
news of the Prince’s
death and I remember
telephoning my parents to
ask if they had heard.
Many years have passed
and with their passage,
the great horse racing
events have somehow
managed to continue in
his absence. And now, he
has slipped into history
and has been forgotten by
most. However, I am
certain that he is
remembered with affection
by those who dared to
answer his call of I
gotta horse and
perhaps won a few bob
from his tip. I am also
sure that he would be
happy to know that he is
not forgotten by that
once small boy, who
although he never grew
up, with some regret I
hasten to add, to be a
jockey or even to buy a
horse, fondly remembers
him and is forever
grateful to him for
enriching his childhood.
AFTER
THOUGHT
For those
readers wishing to read
more about the Prince, I
recommend the following
websites:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_Monolulu
and
http://www.mybrightonandhove.org.uk
Although
the Prince called himself
Ras Prince Monolulu,
his real name was Peter
Carl MaKay or McKay. He
was not of the Falasha
tribe of Abyssinia,
as he claimed, but was
born on the island of St.
Croix, now part of the
U.S. Virgin Islands, in
1881. He led an early
colourful life and was
even press-ganged into
the Navy and later
interned in a German camp
during the first world
war. He did pick the
winner of the 1920 Derby,
a horse named Spion
Kop, and won a small
fortune as it came
home at 100-6.
The title of his memoirs
was, naturally called I
gotta horse. He died
at the Middlesex
Hospital in London on
14th February,
1965. Regarding his
remaining family, he has
a grandson who lives in
Sweden and who is
interested in collecting
together any remembrances
and pictures of his
wonderful grandfather.
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