As jubilee ox roasting goes out of fashion, memories recalls one jubilee ox so large that it demanded the formation of a Gravy Making Society

In Darlington, the Diamond Jubilee celebrations began on Tuesday, June 22, 1897, when all the town’s church bells “lustily pealed” at seven o’clock in the morning. Just to make sure everyone was out of bed and celebrating, the bells were rung once more at 11am.

AN extraordinary 12,000 schoolchildren, overseen by 1,000 teachers, met in High Row, where they were all given a medal, a bun and an orange, before processing to South Park (the only known picture of the occasion is today’s front cover – look at the two men on telegraph poles high above the rooftops on the left hand side).

Darlington’s population was about 50,000, so The Northern Echo was right to use its favourite adjective to describe the “monstre throng” in High Row and the “monstre gathering” in the park.

In the park there was a monstre array of music hall-style entertainment which baffles the imagination. Not all of it was politically correct.

The Echo said there was “Montgomery with his London and Continental novelties; the Empire Troupe of bicyclists in their clever trick and fancy bicycle acts; the Ytsinos – talented Anglo- Japanese actors; Christo the clown and Mongo the ape; Les Freres Levinos, the indiarubber men; the two Ebony Brilliants, laughable negro comedians; a troupe of performing dogs; Charles Ulrick, the barrel king and trencher wonder; the Brothers Aerons, Japanese jugglers, and last, but not least, a handsomely fit up Punch and Judy Show which proved of immense interest to the juveniles.”

While all this was going on on land, in the water of the Skerne, the Darlington Swimming Club held races, put on “ornamental swimming” demonstrations and even played a seven-a-side polo match.

“Throughout the evening, the park was thronged by a mass of people, who found entertainment wherever they went. It was fast and furious while it lasted and was followed with avidity by those to whom it appealed,” said the Echo.

The weather was “truly tropical”, and it is hard not to feel that the paper’s reporter preferred to slip away somewhere cooler.

He wrote: “The park itself was a veritable paradise to those quieter spirits who sought its seclusion out of the busy throng. The dense foliage of the trees afforded shade from the burning sun and the many picturesque flowerbeds evoked the admiration of all.”

Darlington’s second diamond event was in the Market Place. A band of butchers had raised £22 to buy a prize ox from Mr Mitchell of Cleasby. It had been killed three days earlier – 60 stone deadweight – and displayed in Michael Trees’ shop window in Parkgate.

With a heavy crane lent by Cleveland Bridge, on a huge steel spit made by Darlington Forge, rubbed in salt from Messrs Mawson, Swan & Morgan of Newcastle, and surrounded by six braziers lent by the North Eastern Railway, the beast was roasted overnight outside the Dolphin Hotel (where the leisure centre is today).

In 1809, George III had celebrated his golden jubilee – the first ever celebrated by a British monarch – with an oxroast in Windsor, but the custom never really lasted anywhere outside the Quaker town.

THE Darlington and Stockton Times noted: “It is believed that Darlington is the only town in which the old-fashioned bullock roasting will form part of the celebrations.

“Residents near the Market Place look forward with considerable misgiving to this ceremony, owing to the smell of burnt flesh and coke smoke.”

Despite the paper’s sniffy attitude, the townspeople clearly enjoyed a good roast.

“All through the night, the improvised kitchen was surrounded by interested and jubilant spectators,” said the Echo. “As soon as the general population became astir (in the morning) the throng grew until there were some thousands around the barriers. In spite of the intense heat there were for some hours a perspiring, pushing, noisy, but on the whole good-humoured crowd watching the preparations for the distribution of the food, and by five o’clock yesterday afternoon the pressure on the barriers was so great that they momentarily threatened to give way until additional supports were affixed.”

After nearly 24 hours roasting, the beast was carved and fed to the assembled masses between bread from the 150 loaves donated by T Gill and Mr Clayton. A special Gravy Making Society had been formed to ensure that there was a suitable accompaniment, and a tin bathful of fat that had been collected from the cooking ox was available for those who preferred dripping.

The tidying up took days, and then the Ox Roast Committee was hit by a writ: Mr Dawson of Haughton-le- Skerne sued the committee for £3 8s to cover damages caused by the roasting process to his cab.

The committee’s accounts, now in Darlington library, record that he lost his case. The committee paid their solicitor’s bill of £1 15s, and was left £2 12s 8d in profit.

“The members and their friends had dinner at the Bull’s Head Hotel” in the Market Place, toasted their success and awarded themselves gold and silver medals – are there any still remaining anywhere from the grand old jubilee days of ox-roasting?