Kennedy: If you were an athlete in Kingston you knew the Jock

The interior of Queen's University's Jock Harty Arena on Arch Street. The rink was demolished in 1968. The large time clock at the far end was relocated to the Harold Harvey Arena. Photo: Queen's University Archives

February 6, 2022

‘The Jock’ was once a ‘happening spot’ in Kingston

By Patrick Kennedy

Kingston Whig-Standard

In its heyday, back in the first half of the last century, it was a “happening spot” in Kingston.

In the winter months, the Jock Harty Arena was rivalled locally only by the downtown Grand Theatre and perhaps the breathtaking toboggan run at Fort Henry Hill as the city’s main entertainment venue.

Popularly known simply as “the Jock,” the original Jock Harty Arena, the first of three such structures to bear the name of a beloved Queen’s University alumnus, hockey star and ardent fan, was built in 1922, a 100 years ago this year. That original structure would’ve celebrated its centennial this year had it not been rebuilt after being severely damaged in a 1924 fire.

Of the many two-sport athletes the city produced, anyone whose teen years, in part or whole, took place in the 1940s knew the Jock. Like the Cherry brothers, Don and Dick, Don Gilmour’s dougie’s father, Jimmy Arniel, whose son Doug (Slugger) Arniel homered in 1967 to win Kingston’s first OBA senior title since 1932 when Jimmy was on the team, as well as ball players like Ron Earl, Bobby Gilmour, Tom Carty, Guy White Clyde Harris and hockey players Lorne Ferguson and Eddie Long.

The resurrected Jock Harty II, built at a cost of $95,000 ($1.5 million today), was open for business by the end of 1924. The steel-and-metal shinny barn is the one that Kingstonians with tall memories remember fondly, albeit frigidly.

The covered rink, located on Arch Street on the eastern edge of the Queen’s campus, was no colder than a meat locker, except, of course, on that frosty February night when fire ripped through its predominantly wooden predecessor. Ironically, that first Harty arena replaced a primitive Nissen hut-like skating rink that also went up in flames in 1922. Fires were a prime driver of urban renewal back in those days.

The rebuilt Jock was brightly lit. During daytime hours, streams of natural light poured in through long windows on the ceiling and along the walls. For decades it was the only artificial ice surface between Toronto and Montreal, a key reason why the rink hosted training camp for the Toronto Maple Leafs in the mid-1930s. (“Hey mister, aren’t you Turk Broda?”)

Like most arenas constructed in the early part of the 20th century, the Jock, aside from its modern highlights, had its share of notable quirks. They included the five-foot-high, tongue-and-groove boards that were embedded in cement and angled in the corners. Players resting between shifts sat eye-level with the top of the boards. That required them to first climb a couple of steps to reach the pine, then “stick” a smooth landing after hopping over the boards to get back onto the ice.

Then there was the playing surface itself. Beneath it was a base of sand — instead of concrete — and refrigeration pipes, the darkish colour camouflaging the puck and necessitating the annual white-washing of the ice and red and blue paint for the blue lines, face-off circles and goal creases.

The 70-foot-long, 1 1/2-inch firehose that was used to flood the ice drew water from a 1,000-gallon hot water tank. Ice making was usually a four-man job. The ice maker deftly worked the nozzle while a trio of helpers lugged the cumbersome hose into position.

Outside of the boiler room and, fortunately, the dressing rooms, the place held all the winter warmth of an outhouse. “Colder than billy-be-damned,” chortled soon-to-be centenarian Stuart Crawford, the Swamp Ward native who was born the same year the original Harty rink opened and who in the mid-1940s suited up for Queen’s and local hockey clubs. “It’s the cold that I remember. Other than that, it was a beautiful arena with terrific ice.”

The arena seated approximately 2,000 fans, including some 400 who jammed the so-called “rush end” for big games. On such occasions, a visit by the fire marshal was guaranteed.

The rink’s namesake, John Joseph Harty, was born in Kingston in 1874. He attended Kingston Collegiate and developed an unquenchable thirst for hockey while playing for Loyola College in Montreal. A fast, diminutive forward, he scored six goals to lead Queen’s to the 1896 Ontario Hockey Association championship. While completing a medical internship in New York City, he played pro for the New York Crescents. After returning home to the Limestone City, Dr. Harty coached the Queen’s Golden Gaels to the 1909 Allan Cup.

In 1919, Harty, then president of the Canadian Locomotive Company in Kingston, travelled to England on a business trip. He contracted the Spanish flu and died at the swanky Savoy Hotel. Three years later, the doc’s family, friends and classmates built the original Harty Arena in his memory.

The reiteration of the Jock played host to many memorable games over the winters. In a 1936 contest played before a capacity crowd and broadcast live on the university’s radio station CFRC, a hand-picked Queen’s/Kingston squad, buttressed by ice maker/goalie Bill Gowsell, blanked the Canadian Olympic team (Port Arthur Bearcats) 2-0.

The Jock also hosted the first local edition of the annual RMC/West Point tilt and many more afterwards until the construction of the Constantine Arena in the late 1950s. Every local hockey game of significance was played at the Jock prior to the 1951 opening of the Memorial Centre.

The Jock Harty II was closed in 1967 — demolished to make way for Humphrey Hall, home of the university’s psychology department — and replaced in 1970 by the Jock Harty III, which was part of the spiffy new $6-million physical education centre that stood at the corner of Union and Division streets. The latter rink was demolished in 2007. (Queen’s hockey teams now play their home games at the York Street Memorial Centre.)

Fifty-five years ago this month, Kingston resident Paul Gowsell became the last person to skate at the Jock Harty II, “four nights after the compressors were turned off in late February 1967,” the 74-year-old retired electrician confirms. “I skated around with a puck and stick, and even though there was some water on the ice, I didn’t care. I wanted one last skate.”

Gowsell had good reason to take that nostalgic final spin at the Jock. After all, he had more than a passing attachment to the quaint old puck palace. His grandfather worked there. Ditto for his parents, a few uncles and aunts and even a few cousins. Paul’s father, Bill, the aforementioned goalkeeper and Kingston and District Sports Hall of Fame inductee, ran the canteen for 30 years and served as icemaker for seven years. That was a skill he passed on to his son, who also logged 20 years of part-time duty in the canteen. An uncle, Roy “Dutch” Dougall, served as the arena manager for 40 years.

“On busy hockey or skating nights, it wasn’t unusual to have seven or eight relatives working there, mostly in the canteen,” Gowsell recalls. “One aunt would take tickets at the door, another would check hats, coats, and boots — the Jock rented out skates, as many as 50 pairs on public skating nights — while my dad and grandfather would sharpen skates on the new hollow-ground machine.

Recalling those popular public skating nights, Gowsell chuckles and says there was little concern over anyone’s lack of skill on the blades. “It didn’t matter, because there were so many people skating that if you did fall, you probably wouldn’t hit the ice anyway, the place would be that packed.”

On the night the Jock closed its doors for the last time, it hosted a dance — the Jock Hop — for the students. (Eventually the siren that signalled a period’s end and the large time clock were relocated to the old Harold Harvey Arena, which is now also part of Kingston’s sporting history.)

Casting his mind back to the Jock’s salad days, Gowsell points out that it was a simpler time with fewer things to occupy one’s leisure time. “No internet, no computers, not even TV,” he says. “There was not much to do in winter except maybe go to Pappas’s pool room, take in a movie, or go to the Jock.”

Patrick Kennedy is a retired Whig-Standard reporter. He can be reached at pjckennedy35@gmail.com.