I'm Head Over Heels In Love With This Photo From The Ex in 1906

I really am. I just love it. Especially if you look close — click here and then on the photo that pops up to make it full-sized and scroll around looking at the expressions on the faces of these people from 190freaking6. Just amazing.

They're sitting on a spot in the Exhibition Grounds that's now probably actually just a littttle bit outside the Exhibition Grounds, pretty much where Lake Shore Boulevard is now. Behind them, in a sliver on the left-hand side of the photo, you can see just a bit of the Manufacturer's Building. It was built a few years earlier and would burned down in the 1960s. They built the modernist Better Living Building to replace it. It's still there today.

There's a bit of interesting history related to monument behind them, too. It was built by the Independent Order of Foresters, a fraternal organization (kind of a little like the Masons) with roots going all the way back to the royal English forests of the 1300s, when people used to band together for safety. The Foresters spread to Canada thanks to Oronhyatekha — a Mohawk from the Six Nations of the Grand River First Nation, near Brantford, who was the first indigenous student at Oxford, the second indigenous doctor in Canada, a member of our national rifle team and the very first indigenous member the Foresters ever had. A bunch of the indigenous artifacts at the ROM come from his collection; he'd started a museum of his own in the Foresters Temple at Bay & Richmond. He died about six months after this photo was taken. And he'll totally be getting his own post someday.

 I came across this photo here.

The Toronto Circus Riot of 1855

Toronto in the 1850s, with edge of the Fair Green bottom-centre

These weren't the kind of clowns you want to mess with. They were, by all accounts, a pretty rough crew. They were in town for just a couple of days — part of a touring show from the U.S. called S.B. Howes' Star Troupe Menagerie & Circus. Along with the clowns, there were acrobats and equestrian trick riders and a bunch of exotic animals: big cats, elephants, even a giraffe. The circus had already performed a few sold out shows that day — it was a rare big draw in a city that was just starting to come into its own.

This was the summer of 1855. And Toronto was growing very, very quickly. Forty thousand people lived in the city now — and new immigrants were flooding in all the time. With the very first railroads starting up, the population would double over the next 20 years.

But in a lot of ways, it was still a rough, pioneer town. It would be a long while before we got our reputation for being Toronto The Good. If anything, we were the opposite. There were 68 taverns along Yonge Street — an average of one every 1200 meters between here and Barrie. In the city itself, there were 152 of them. Plus 203 beers shops on top of that. And then, there were the brothels. We had a lot of brothels.

The circus was done for the day and the clowns had the rest of the night off, so they decided to take advantage of the local nightlife. They picked a brothel near the corner of King & Jarvis and settled in to have some fun. But the rest of the night wouldn't go as planned.

It seems the clowns picked the wrong brothel. This one was a hangout for some of the men in a local volunteer fire brigade: The Hook & Ladder Firefighting Company. And these weren't the kind of firemen you wanted to mess with either. In those days, there was no central, public, government-run fire department. When a fire broke out, all the companies who were nearby rushed to the scene with their horse-drawn engines to get there first and call dibs. Just a couple of weeks earlier, the Hook & Ladders had arrived at a fire on Church Street at the same time as another brigade. A fight broke out. As the building burned, the firemen rioted in the street. And when the police showed up, they got pulled into the brawl too. In the end, the firemen were charged with assault. And the battle became known as the Firemen's Riot. The Hook & Ladders were no strangers to violence.

S.B. Howes' Star Troupe Menagerie & Circus

No one seems to agree on exactly how the fight at the brothel got started. Some blame a particularly loudmouthed clown. Some say the clowns cut in line — or knocked the hat off a fireman's head. But this much is clear: that night, the clowns kicked some firefighting ass. At least two of the firemen were seriously injury, dragged out of the brothel to safety as the Hook & Ladder crew retreated. For the rest of the night, the clowns could drink and screw in peace.

But it wasn't over yet. Those firemen had a lot of friends. In those days, Toronto was still pretty much entirely run by a small group of Protestant, Tory elites. They were all members of the Orange Order, hung out together at the Orange Lodge, and made sure that other Orangemen got all the important jobs in the city. The police were pretty much all Orangemen. And the firefighters were too. Usually, they focused on beating up Catholics. But they were willing to make an occasional exception.

The day after the fight at the brothel — a Friday the 13th, no less — a crowd began to gather around S.B. Howes' Star Troupe Menagerie & Circus. An angry, Orange crowd. The troupe had pitched their tents at the Fair Green, a big grassy space on the waterfront, just a few blocks east of the St. Lawrence Market. (Now, it's the south-east corner of Front & Berkeley, near the Toronto Sun building.) The farmers and merchants who had set up stalls nearby were told to clear out. There was trouble brewing.

They say word reached the police before violence broke out. But of course the Chief of Police, Samuel Sherwood, was an Orangeman. That's how he got to be Chief of Police. In fact, years earlier he'd helped to organize a conservative Tory attack on a liberal Reform Party parade. One of the Reformers had been shot and killed. So when Chief Sherwood heard about the trouble down at the Fair Green, he dragged his feet for as long as he could. And then, eventually, he sent a few men to check it out.

By the time they got there, it had started. People were throwing stones. And while the circus performers and the carnies were apparently able to hold the mob off for a while, it couldn't last. Eventually, the crowd overwhelmed them. And when the Hook & Ladders arrived, all hell broke loose. They stormed the circus with pikes and axes, overturned wagons, pulled down the tents and the Big Top and set them on fire. They beat clowns to a pulp. Circus folk ran for their lives. Some dove into the lake for safety. It was mayhem.

It took the mayor to settle things down. He came to the Fair Green in person, kept a fireman from killing a clown with an axe by grabbing it out of his hands, and called in the militia to take control of the situation. Once things had calmed down, the circus performers came back for their belongings and then ran like hell.

Council's inquest into the Circus Riot

The police had done pretty much nothing. They just watched. Even Chief Sherwood himself had eventually shown up, but could only claim to have stopped the rioters from setting fire to the cages of the animals. Of the 17 people who were charged in the riot, only one was ever convicted. All of the police who were at the scene claimed they couldn't remember any of the Orangemen who had been there. Just like they had a few weeks earlier, after the Fireman's Riot on Church.

That, as far as most people were concerned, was bullshit. And it would keep on coming. A few months later, there was another Protestant vs. Catholic riot — and Chief Sherwood's memory was again suspiciously fuzzy as far as Orangemen were concerned. A few months after that, he was under fire again after freeing a suspect who had been accused of robbing a bank.

But by then, there had been another mayoral election. And for the first time in more than 20 years — since William Lyon Mackenzie's rebellion — a liberal Reform Party candidate had won. City council called for deep reforms to the way Toronto's police force was run. The government of Canada West (essentially what they called Ontario back then) agreed. An inquest was launched, and in the end, the whole old system was overthrown. Every single police officer in the city was fired and a new force was created from scratch. Half of the old constables would end up being re-hired and it took nearly 100 years before the Orange stranglehold on power in Toronto was finally broken. But the foundations of our current, modern police force had finally been laid.

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You can read more about the riot and the history of the police here. And the riot in general here. They're both awesome sources.

I got Toronto's tavern stats from this piece, about a rivalry between Tory and Reform-minded doctors (most notably John Rolph, who'd played a huge role in Mackenzie's rebellion). It's a pretty neat read for anyone interested in the politics of medicine in the city in the 1800s (which I'm sure you all are).

There's a list of Toronto riots thanks to Google Books here.

Jane Jacobs On The Importance Of Old Buildings

Jane Jacobs in NYC, 1961

I'm finally reading a Jane Jacobs book for the first time. It's her big one: The Death and Life of Great American Cities. They say it's one of the giant landmarks in the history of urban planning. She wrote it back in 1961, overturning a lot of old conventional planning ideas — like, say, that demolishing an entire residential neighbourhood to start from scratch is a great idea. She spent a lot of her time fighting to save communities from being turned into housing projects or expressways — first in New York City and then here. She moved to Toronto in '68 — in part because we're awesome and in part because she was worried about her sons getting Drafted into the Vietnam War. She arrived in T.O. just in time to help lead the famous fight against the Spadina Expressway, which would have leveled huge swaths of the Annex and Chinatown.

At one point in the book, she lays out the four conditions she thinks are necessary for a diverse and thriving neighbourhood. Essentially: short blocks, mixed use, a dense enough population and a mixture of old and new buildings. She spends a whole chapter explaining each one, but here's a short passage about old buildings that particularly stuck me:

"If you look about, you will see that only operations that are well established, high-turnover, standardized or heavily subsidized can afford, commonly, to carry the costs of new construction. Chain stores, chain restaurants and banks go into new construction. But neighbourhood bars, foreign restaurants and pawn shops go into older buildings. Supermarkets and shoe stores often go into new buildings, good bookstores and antique dealers seldom do. Well-subsidized opera and art museums often go into new buildings. But the unformalized feeders of the arts—studios, galleries, stores for musical instruments and arts supplies, backrooms where the low earning power of a seat and a table can absorb uneconomic discussions—these go into old buildings. Perhaps more significant, hundreds of ordinary enterprises, necessary to the safety and public life of streets and neighborhoods, and appreciated for their convenience and personal quality, can make out successfully in old buildings, but are inexorably slain by the high overhead of new construction.

"As for really new ideas of any kind—no matter how ultimately profitable or otherwise successful some of them might prove to be—there is no leeway for such chancy trial, error and experimentation in the high-overhead economy of new construction. Old ideas can sometimes use new buildings. New ideas must use old buildings."

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You can buy The Death and Life of Great Americans Cities here. Or borrow it from the Toronto Public Library here. Or read more samples from it on Google Books here.

And you can learn a little more about the Spadina Expressway in Agatha Barc's post for blogTO here.

Dream 02 "The Adultorous Fox" (William Hincks, 1853)

In his dream, William Hincks was at a party. He was in a wonderful mood. His most recent paper on the follies of Darwinism and the superiority of quinarian taxonomy had just been published; he was the toast of the faculty. He drank and danced and laughed.

But at midnight, a fox walked into the room. He was impeccably dressed: his suit cut in the latest fashion, his shoes polished, his gloves crisp and white. He surveyed the room and, catching sight of the professor, approached him.

Hincks was annoyed. He didn’t know this fox; didn’t want his triumphant night disturbed. But there was no escape, the fox caught him by the elbow. “I must speak with you, professor. You see, I have fallen in love with your wife. We’ve been seeing each other socially for several months now. And I understand that under the circumstances, the only honourable course of action is for you to challenge me to a duel. I’ve prepared myself, sir, for whatever may come.”

And with that, the fox drew his sword.

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Learn about William Hincks here. 

Explore more Toronto Dreams Project postcards here.

Bicycles! Bicycles! Bicycles!

Over at blogTO, Derek Flack is raaaather good at putting together galleries of old Toronto photos. And I think his post of old bicycle pics is one my favourites so far. Most of them are from the early 1900s, back when the car-to-bike ratio was a little less, uh, Rob Ford friendly — some cyclists fly across the not-exactly-gridlocked Bloor Street Viaduct, another trudges up the muddy, automobile-less hills of St. Clair. I'll re-post a couple of my favourires here, but why even bother scrolling down when with a quick click you can check out his full post right here.

Riding along the Don River, between Don Mills & Leaside, 1912

University Avenue, looking at about where the American Embassy is now, 1912

Yonge Street & Summerhill, 1915

The Royal York Hotel, 1919

Adding A Legend To This Old Photo Of The Foot Of Bathurst

So. This is what the foot of Bathurst used to look like. That's Bathurst going right to left toward the lake. And that's Lake Shore Boulevard (which is also called Fleet Street for this stretch) going up through the middle of the photo. East to west.

01 This is the edge of Little Norway. At the beginning of the Second World War, Norway was officially neutral, but Hitler invaded and occupied them anyway. The Norwegian King managed to escape the country and set up a government in exile in England, joining the war on the Allied side. What was left of the Royal Norwegian Air Force came to Toronto to train. They flew out of the island airport and had their camp just across the gap on the mainland — right at the foot of Bathurst. You can really only see the edge of Little Norway in this photo, most of it is off to the left. Today, that's where Little Norway park is. And you can still catch the ferry to the island airport in the same spot the Norwegians did back during the War.

See what Little Norway looks like today here.

02 This is Maple Leaf Stadium. It opened in 1926 and was home to the Toronto Maple Leafs, the minor league baseball team who played here right up until the '60s. Some of those squads are considered to be some of the best minor league teams who've ever played the sport. Sparky Anderson — the legendary Hall of Fame manager of the Detroit Tigers and Cincinnati Reds — played for one of them. In fact, he got his start managing right here, when the team's owner suggested he might be better at that job than he was at playing shortstop. They tore the stadium down in the' 60s, when the team was sold and moved to Kentucky. Today there's a gas station on that corner and a housing complex behind it. You can see more old photos of the stadium here.

See what the intersection looks like today here.

03 This little building is still there today. It was designed by the same architects who designed Maple Leaf Stadium: Chapman & Oxley. They designed a bunch of the most iconic sights along the lake shore. They're the same guys who did the Sunnyside Pavillion, the Palais Royale and the Princes' Gates (which you can see in the top right-hand corner of this photo, number 8). Originally this was called the Crosse and Blackwell Building, because that was the name of the food company who they built it for. Now, we just call it 545 Lake Shore Boulevard West and Rogers runs some of it cable channels out of it.

04 This was built just a couple of years after Maple Leaf Stadium — as a warehouse for Loblaws. You can see the freight train pulling up to it at the bottom of the photo, blocking traffic at what doesn't really look like the safest crossing in the world. When Loblaws moved out in the '70s, it donated the building to the Daily Bread Food Bank. And when the Daily Bread Food Bank moved out in the year 2000, Loblaws tried to demolish it. But the city stepped in and saved it as an historic site. Now, apparently, they're trying to figure out how to turn into a Superstore and office space. You can read about all that in The Grid here.

05 I'm pretty sure all of the land in this entire photo used to be lake. It wasn't filled in with dirt until the 1920s, which kind of explains why all the buildings in this photo were built in the 1920s. The original shoreline was just to the right of this photo. That's the spot where Garrison Creek met the lake, and where John Graves Simcoe decided to build Fort York all the way back in 1793. The Fort, of course, is still there. But now they've snuck the Gardiner Expressway into the space between it and the right-hand edge of this photo. 

I'm also pretty sure I read somewhere that this is a pretty hard place to build really big stuff, since you're digging your foundations in land that used to be water. But that doesn't seem to have stopped anybody. The whole corner is pretty developed — there are even new condos going up right now in pretty much this exact spot. They haven't completely forgotten the history of the place, though: the condo tower right on the corner has a statue out front in commemoration of the War of 1812. Douglas Coupland designed. A Canadian tin solider stands victoriously over the body of an American tin solider lying on the ground at his feet.

See what the statue and that corner looks like today here.

06 The Tip Top Tailors Building. A Polish immigrant by the name of David Dunkelman started the company in a storefront on Yonge Street in 1909. By the time '20s rolled around, he could afford to build these new headquarters down by the lake. The building is still there, but now it's the Tip Top Lofts. Which look pretty awesome with that giant old red neon sign and streetcars passing by.

See what it looks like today here.

07 This is Coronation Park. It was the 1930s before they decided what to do with this land. During the Great Depression, it was a construction site — in the fight against unemployment, the government hired people to build that seawall just offshore. They didn't start work on the park until 1936, after the seawall was done. That's when the old King George died and the stuttering, new, Colin Firth-y King George took over. In honour of the crowning of the new king, a group of veterans of the First World War — awesomely calling themselves "The Men of Trees" and declaring that restoring green space was "the most constructive and peaceable enterprise in which nations could cooperate" — planted a big oak in the middle of the park. In honour of the military units who had fought Canada's wars, they planted 137 maple trees. And they weren't done. In the years after that, they added even more — a series of pathways curved through hundreds of trees. In 1939, King George himself came to visit with his wife, the Queen Mum. They drove along what we still call Remembrance Drive, as veterans and schoolchildren planted trees for every single one of the public schools and high schools in the city. Today, though, there's not much done to remember any of this. Some of the trees have died. Some of the plaques have gone missing. Most of the paths aren't there anymore.

Coronation Park is also where The Grateful Dead played a free show in 1970. The day The Festival Express took over Exhibition Stadium there were clashes between hippies and cops outside the official concert. Woodstock had convinced a lot of people that live music should be free. To keep the busted heads to a minimum, The Dead and some of the other Festival Express bands finally agreed to head over here to park after their official sets and play for the people who couldn't — or wouldn't — pay.

See what it looks like today here.

08 The Ex! This is very eastern edge of the Exhibition Grounds — you can see the Princes' Gates right at the edge of the photo. The Gates, as I mentioned above, were also designed by Chapman & Oxley. And, no surprise, they were also built in the 1920s. The Princes themselves were here to open it: Colin Firth's older brother, King Edward VIII, who abdicated; and their younger brother, who was also, very confusingly, named George. The Goddess of Winged Victory stands on top of the Gates, with a maple leaf in her hand and nine pillars beneath her representing the nine provinces in Confederation at the time. More recently, we've added a garden out front, with the official flowers of every Canadian province and territory.

See what the Gates look like today here. And what the garden looks like here.

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One of Rob Ford allies, Scarborough councillor Paul Ainslie, has been trying to get Coronation Park restored. You can learn more about that from the Toronto Sun here.

Torontoist has a neat post with an interactive panaroma of Coronation Park here. And there's more information about it here. Wikipedia's got more of the down low on 545 Lake Shore, the Tip Top Tailors Building and Chapman & Oxley.

The Toronto Dreams Project Sticky Plaque Division

Here's my new thing: sticky plaques. That's what I'm calling these stickers I'm printing, each with a QR code on it. (QR codes are those fancy looking codes that you scan with your smartphone to automatically open a webpage.) Those QR codes all link to webpages which tell the story of something historical that happened on the spot where the sticker gets stuck. Sometimes those webpages will be my own posts right here on the Toronto Dreams Project Historical Ephemera Blog. And sometimes they'll link to other posts I like.

The idea is to highlight historical stories and locations that might not already have their own official non-sticky plaques. And to provide more information and multimediaishness to some of the places that already do.

You can see photos of some of the places I've stuck sticky plaques here.