On September 14, 1878, The Globe reported on “The Great Rainstorm”, a phenomenon that overwhelmed Toronto and the Don River. A view from the Necropolis Bridge, the crossing near the cemetery, described the water swelling gradually in the morning, but overflowing by eight o’clock. By mid-day the bridge had been completely swept away. The river was a wild scene of flowing water and debris. Fortunately, the newspaper reported a week later that the bridge was re-erected and travel was resumed. The dramatic event is one episode in the life of the bridge and road, which would come to be a notable, lost part of Toronto’s history and geography.
The Winchester Street Bridge
The crossing at Winchester Street and the Don River was an important one in and out of the City of Toronto. And potentially one of the oldest. A bridge has existed in some form since the days of John Graves and Elizabeth Simcoe. That latter wrote in her journal of “Playter’s Bridge,” a crossing made of a fallen butternut tree. Later versions of the bridge included sturdier constructions, albeit were prone to washouts as per the 1878 storm and another storm in 1894, which resulted in its “almost complete destruction.” They were also variously named: The Necropolis bridge as mentioned, the Winchester Street bridge which was the most common name, and simply the Don Bridge (albeit this was more famous as the crossing at today’s Queen Street).
Playter’s Bridge, as painted by Elizabeth Simcoe, ca 1796. Source: York University Archives
Fleming Topographical Plan of the City of Toronto, showing Winchester Street and its continuation, 1851 Source: Old Toronto Maps
In a pre-Bloor Viaduct Toronto, the Winchester Street Bridge and the road extending from it was the most northern path to and from the city on the east side. Its origins lay in the 1840s, likely as an alternative to the Queen Street bridge for travelers heading into market. Its location at this junction points to its prominence as a stop on the way into and out of town — and an ideal spot for a tavern. The Don Vale House stood on the west side of the Don River near the bridge from the late 1840s. It was noted as a popular yet rowdy locale, particularly for gambling activities. It was torn down in 1876. There was also an old toll-gate house which “stood for so many years at the foot of the hill close to Winchester Bridge,” which was removed in 1882. It was reported as an “eyesore” and “tramps who have lodged there free of cost will miss the old shanty.”
Bouton Atlas 1858 showing the Toronto Necropolis, Don Vale House, and the Winchester Street Bridge. Source: Old Toronto Maps
Don Vale House, 1870. The image is from John Ross Robertson’s Landmarks of Toronto. Source: York University Archives
The Winchester Street Bridge, 1890s. This is a similar westerly view as the image in Landmarks of Toronto. The track in the foreground is the Belt Line Railway. Source: City of Toronto Archives
Over its history, numerous repairs have been made to the Winchester Street bridge, including rebuilding it altogether. In addition to a new causeway built after the 1878 storm, it was reported in October 1885 that the “new Winchester-Street bridge” was almost ready; it was already planked, and the approaches were just about complete. In late 1888, the idea of erecting a high-level bridge was being explored. In 1894, the bridge was described as “long been regarded as unsuitable and unsafe during floods,” as proven by the storm that decimated the bridge that year. In 1902, a proposal was endorsed to fit the bridge with $10,000 of lumber to repair the bridge. In March 1909, the bridge was condemned and majorly repaired and rebuilt at a cost of $15,000. It was reported that during this time, travelers on the Danforth would have to use the Gerrard Street bridge as an alternative until the bridge opened several months later. This somewhat regular need to repair or rebuild the bridge might reflect its frequency of use and its proneness to disaster caused by the Don River.
Approaching the Winchester Bridge, 1890s, looking east. The image is the opposing view as the above image. Source: City of Toronto Archives
The Winchester Street Bridge, 1894. The view is looking south with the Isolation Hospital and Don Jail in the background. It also appears to be the same bridge as the above photo. Source: City of Toronto Archives.
The Winchester Street bridge in 1910. It was rebuilt the previous year. The view is looking south. Source: City of Toronto Archives
The Winchester Street bridge in 1915, similar to the above view. This may have been the final version of the bridge. Source: City of Toronto Archives.
Winchester Street bridge in 1953. View is looking east. Source: Toronto Public Library
Here The Road Winds…
The winding road on the east side of the bridge was curiously not also named Winchester Street. Rather, it took on several monikers throughout its history. It must be noted that it is not easy to track the changes as its naming in maps and directories does not appear to be consistent — that is, sometimes it is not named at all or concurrent sources will name it differently. The first names identified in the 1800s seem to have been the similarly related Don Road, Don and Danforth Road, and Don Mills Road. After the turn of the century, it took on Winchester Drive (or Road), which is likely its most famous name. Its final evolution was as Royal Drive.
City of Toronto Directory, 1856 showing the Don Road (Winchester Drive). Source: Toronto Public Library
Goads Fire Insurance Map, 1910. Source: Goads Toronto
It must also be noted that Winchester Drive was related in name and geography to the modern Broadview Avenue, but that connection and timeline is somewhat murky. An old aboriginal route lent itself to a new road in 1799, running east from the Don Bridge at Queen Street northwards to the saw and grist mills on the Don at about Pottery Road. It would aptly be named “The Mill Road”. In an 1884 annexation, The Mill Road was split in name north and south of Danforth Avenue into Don Mills Road and Broadview Avenue, respectively, possibly reflecting the odd, angular path taken by modern Broadview as it crosses Danforth Avenue.
However, in somewhat conflicting evidence, the 1856 Directory splits the two roads into The Mill Road, from Queen Street to Danforth Avenue, and The Don (and Danforth) Road, from Winchester Street to north of Danforth into Todmorden. This meant that for a time, the road leading northeast from the Winchester Street bridge and the road northeast of The Danforth was the same continuous road, even if their origins may not reflect that. Both roads were named Don Mills for a time as well.
Plan of the area bordered by Don River, Danforth Avenue, Broadview Avenue, and Winchester Street, 1892. Source: City of Toronto Archives
Winchester Drive would run along the river before turning east to pass under the Canadian Pacific Railway subway (appropriated also called the Winchester Street subway). In 1918, a flood caused by an ice-filled Don River made the road impassable, pointing to the low-lying situation of the southern part of the street. As it curled northeastward, it was positioned between two ridges, with Broadview Avenue overlooking on the east side. This followed the topography of the former Dallimore Creek, a tiny Don River tributary. At the top of the hill was the Taylor Tollgate, which was situated on the south side of Danforth Avenue in the corner between Winchester and Broadview Avenue.
Winchester Drive, along the Don River, in 1902. The view is looking north on the east side of the river. Ice looks to be blocking the way. The CPR tracks and Swiss Cottage Hospital are barely visible centre-right. Source: City of Toronto Archives
Winchester Drive, looking west as it approaches the CPR subway, 1915. Source: City of Toronto Archives.
Winchester Drive looking north, 1909. The Swiss Cottage Hospital is on the left. The house overlooking the road on the right was located on today’s Montcrest Boulevard off Broadview Avenue. Source: City of Toronto Hospital.
Likely a view looking south on Winchester Drive, 1907. A small structure appears in the 1910 Goads Map on the east side of the street under the ridge housing Broadview Avenue. This may be that structure. Source: City of Toronto Archive
Winchester Drive looking south from Danforth Avenue, 1919. The Bank of Nova Scotia occupies the former place of the Taylor tollgate and the later place of the Pizza Pizza currently situated there. The empty space to the right would soon be occupied by the Danforth Lavatory. Source: City of Toronto Archives
In 1901, the Swiss Cottage Hospital for smallpox was built on the west side of Winchester Drive. The isolation hospital was formerly located near the Don Jail and moved to a more remote area north of Riverdale Park when life around Gerrard Street grew busier. Winchester Drive had very few dwellings on it — if any at all. The Globe reported on its opening:
Constructed for its estimated cost, $5000, it is a picturesque structure of brick and stone, in the Swiss style of architecture. Bosomed in the precipitous cliffs that overlook the eastern banks of the Don, it is ideally situated. Looked at from the river flats it occupies a commanding height, yet behind and beside it to a height of 40 feet above it rise the steep banks of the Don. Taylor’s road winds up the cliffs just south of the hospital, but separated from it by a deep ravine. The hospital is practically in the centre of 150 acres of natural park land, and far from habitations.
The Globe, November 27, 1901
In 1927, it was reported that the hospital would close as it was deemed inadequate to deal with recent smallpox epidemics. The Swiss Cottage stood until 1930 after facing its unfortunate end by fire.
Swiss Cottage Hospital, 1907. Source: City of Toronto Archives
The Royal Drive
Winchester Drive took on its final life in 1939. It was renamed Royal Drive to coincide with a visit by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth. Their motorcade traveled down the road into Riverdale Park for a demonstration by schoolchildren. Royal Drive would be used again in a similar manner in a subsequent royal tour in 1951 by Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh. It was reported at the time that the street would need to be completely resurfaced as it was covered in potholes. Princess Margaret traveled down the street in 1958, the last time a British Royal would do so.
The Toronto Daily Star, March 11, 1939. Source: Toronto Star Archives
Royal Drive met its end via the Don Valley Parkway project in the late 1950s. On the west bank of the river, the road descending down from The Necropolis was removed near the river to make way for the Bayview Extension. Today, Winchester Street ends at the top of the hill near Riverdale Farm and the cemetery. The Bayview Extension also necessitated the removal of the now-orphaned Winchester Street Bridge.
The Globe and Mail, ; May 8, 1959. Source: Globe and Mail ArchivesThe Globe and Mail, ; May 8, 1959. Source: Globe and Mail Archives
On the east bank of the river, the roadbed for Royal Drive was also removed and replaced at its north terminus by an onramp to the northbound Don Valley Parkway. Eastbound travelers on the Bloor Viaduct might note that a sign for Royal Drive hangs over the entrance to the ramp. According to the City of Toronto, this marker does name the highway entrance as Royal Drive. Interestingly, however, Royal Drive does not appear on the city’s Road Classification List as a street.
Royal Drive in 2021. Source: Google Maps
Source: City of Toronto
To compound the issue, a trail running on the table of land adjacent to it and the former Danforth Lavatory and City Adult Learning Centre is marked on Google Maps as Royal Drive. This path continues down into the valley, crossing over the onramp via a bridge and continuing into Riverdale Park.
Whichever is the case of the “real” Royal Drive, the lack of complete erasure of the name is likely intended to honour the royal tours of the past decades. It also aids in keeping alive the history of an early and prominent Toronto street.
In the annals of Lost Toronto, Sayer Street is a very colourful chapter. It is an interesting case if one only starts from the fact that the name only existed for about thirty years and no longer lives on in any capacity. It gets even more intriguing when we consider that the current version of the street is about a third in length of its older self at its longest in history. Finally, it is most fascinating when we learn that its modern geography contains very few remnants of its historic character.
Beginnings
Sayer Street’s history ultimately begins in the the first half of the 19th century. John Beverley Robinson was the Attorney General of Upper Canada, and owner of approximately 50 relatively empty acres extending east from today’s University Avenue between Queen Street and College Street. In 1828, Robinson donated 6 acres on its south end for the Law Society Society of Upper Canada, a landmark we know today as Osgoode Hall.
1842 Cane Topographical Plan of the City and Liberties of Toronto, showing Sayer Street (running from east of Osgoode Hall, unmarked). Source: Old Toronto Maps
Robinson continued to develop and sell off parcels of land north of Osgoode Hall in the 1840s. One of these developments included a street that straddled the lot line. Robinson named this street ‘Sayer Street’ — a variation of his mother’s — Esther — maiden name — Sayre. In 1842, Sayer Street ran from Queen Street to just north of today’s Dundas Street and had several buildings dotted on it. East of Osgoode Hall towards Yonge Street was Macaulay Town, a neighbourhood which came from the holdings of James Macaulay centred around todays Albert, James, Bay, and Elizabeth Streets. The new residential areas that grew out of the Robinson and Macaulay lands — including Sayer Street — came to be part the administrative district of the St. John’s Ward — which was commonly shortened to The Ward.
Life on Sayer Street
Although it is difficult to paint a full picture of life on Sayer Street, a few details emerge about its layout and landmarks. Structures were of modest constructions, usually one-storey and wooden. In 1853, 682 yards of sewer were laid under the street from Queen to Elm along with 14 culverts and “200 rods of eight-feet wide sidewalk” on Sayer’s east side to the College Avenue. In 1855, a petition from R.W. Abbott and others to the Standing Committee on Fire, Water, and Gas recommended a street lamp on the street between Queen and Albert. A year later, the Committee authorized the Gas Company to add three lamps. Some more street improvements were added in 1857 in the form of a bridge and culvert at Christopher Street (the purpose of these were unclear).
1858 WS Boulton: Atlas of the City of Toronto and Vicinity, showing Sayer Street and St. John’s Ward. Source: Old Toronto Maps
Sayer Street School was located on the northeast corner of Sayer and Albert Streets. The schoolmaster was a Samuel Coyne. There are not many details known about this school. In January 1855, its attendance was reported at 105. In May 1854, five churches, including the Primitive Methodist Congregation, applied to use the school as a part of their Sabbath observances.
1858 WS Boulton: Atlas of the City of Toronto and Vicinity, Showing the potential location of the Sayer Street School. Source: Old Toronto Maps
The 1856 Directory provides names of residents of Sayer Street and their professions. Some repeat jobs include boot and shoe makers, watch makers, labourers, carpenters, grocers, bricklayers, and whitewashers. There were a number of widows listed as well. Some notable names are John Andrews, keeper at Asylum, Edward Stacey, city constable, Jeremiah Taylor, Methodist Minister, and Charles H. Pearce, minister of colored.
1856 Toronto Directory Source: Toronto Public Library
Listed at the head of the street was “Aston, John, Burton Ale Brewery”. There was an odd occurrence in March 1859 in which the mentioned tavern keeper John Aston was brought up with a charge of cruelty to animals in an apparently gambling game. There seemed to be “a machine” in which a cat and a dog were tied to it and the dog was made to chase the feline. Another dog was then made to “intercept” the cat. The cat fought off the dogs valiantly and scratched them badly. This did not seem to please Ashton and others, who then placed a dead rat with the cat “with the double expectation that the dog when he saw two of his enemies in the field would renew his assault”. This did not happen. The visiting police officer did not see any bets but noted that “heavy sums occasionally changed hands on the contest.” In his defense, Aston replied, in a very impertinent tone: “I have done it and intend to do it again. it is just for my amusement. You may fine me if you like, but if you do, I shall go home, get my dinner, and just do the same thing again.” The judge fined him $5 and advised he will have the police sharply watching him.
Related, a 1869 Globe article of Toronto’s saloons and taverns lists at least four registered establishments at 118, 135, 206, and 228 Sayer Street.
The Sayer Street Chapel & Toronto’s Early Black Community
In 1845, from land bought from John Beverley Robinson, some community members opened what would become the British Methodist Episcopal Church at 94 Sayer Street — a small wood frame place of worship that would house its congregation. It was a humble structure that would match the character of the street. The church would come to play a big role in the neighbourhood and in the history of the Black community in Toronto.
1858 WS Boulton: Atlas of the City of Toronto and Vicinity, Showing the potential location of the Sayer Street Chapel. Source: Old Toronto Maps
The gatherings of the community were well documented and start to tell a lively story of life on Sayer Street. In September 1858, two hundred and fifty coloured electors met in Aston’s tavern at the head of Sayer Street to elect a candidate. All but seven votes went to a Mr. Romain.
1934 St. James British Methodist Episcopal Church, 94 Chestnut Street Source: City of Toronto Archives
And there were, of course, happenings at the church, too. The Globe reported in 1852 of an assembly at the church — referred to as the Sayer street Chapel — on Monday August 2 for “their celebration”. The event was, of course, Emancipation Day and included prayers, speeches, and a procession through downtown with stops at Holy Trinity Church, City Hall, St. Lawrence Hall, and back again. Around the time of the 1854 Emancipation Day, prominent activist and newspaper editor Mary Ann Shad attended the church to form the Provincial Union, an alliance of community members with “the common purposes of self-help, racial uplift” and abolition. In the 1858 iteration of the event, the congregation and others marched with music to St. James Cathedral, the University for lunch, and then down Queen and Church Streets to the wharf. There was an excursion to the island and then a final soiree at St. Lawrence Hall (some also ended up at a tavern on Adelaide Street). In 1860, the procession went down Sayer Street to Queen to Bay to King to St. James Cathedral and St. Lawrence Hall. The afternoon continued at the University Park with speeches calling for the end of slavery in the United States before returning to the Sayer street Chapel and ending at St. Lawrence Hall for a soiree. This celebration of the abolition of slavery in the British empire and the denouncing of the continued existence in the United States falls with the renaming of the church to fall in line with support of Britain.
On April 19th, 1865, a crowd filled the Sayer Street Church to mourn the death of Abraham Lincoln. The Globe reported:
“The people assembled appeared much distreesed by the calamity which has caused their meeting, and as the various speakers alluded, in touching terms, to the untimely fate which had overtaken Mr. Lincoln in his efforts on behalf of their enslaved race, there was not a dry eye in the congregation.”
The Globe, April 20, 1865
The congregation and the Black residents of the street were not without unfortunate incidents. In 1854, during a Sabbath day worship, a “band of rowdies” disrupted the congregation. The Globe described it as “Disgraceful Conduct.” Fortunately, some of assailants were caught by Police. In December 1862, a “coloured man,” Washington Carey, was accused of disturbing the congregation. In 1851, a “coloured woman” was found dead in an unoccupied house. While no marks of violence were found on her, the death was mysterious. Her husband had died nine months before, and she was described as “not above reproach.” In 1856, a William Knowles appeared in court while charged with robbing Taswell Robinson, a Black man, of $55.
1934 Wedding at the British Methodist Episcopal Church Source: City of Toronto Archives
A Dangerous History of Sayer Street
In its history, Sayer Street had several and somewhat frequent dangerous and criminal episodes. Crimes have included trespassing, larceny, assault, robberies of houses and persons, and generally being a nuisance (such as one tale of disposing one’s litter outside their house). It is unclear if Sayer Street was any more perilous than any other street of the time, but there are notable events.
In an odd episode in February 1856, a Mr. Wiggins was robbed of £200 in the house of a Mary Anne Fawcett (sometimes spelled ‘Faucett’). The woman appears several times in the records, but on this first occasion, she is listed as employing a young man ‘Power’ and other ‘maids.’ Fawcett denied Wiggins was in her house. In September of that year, Fawcett was charged with the robbery. She had some cabmen aid her in the act. At this point, she was described as having a “house of ill fame” and Wiggins ended up in their after having a few drinks. From here, the story diverges of whether she knew he was there, if she had divided up the money with the cabmen, and even if Wiggins was even robbed at all. In the end, Fawcett was discharged. As an odd side story, while detained, Fawcett apparently overheard the escape plans of unrelated criminals. Fawcett was charged again in December 1859 for running a disorderly house; several men and two women who were in the house were arrested. The case was dismissed. Fawcett, immediately after being let go, advised that she had been assaulted by two of the men who were arrested. The group were brought to the bar again, and two of them were fined.
1911 Chestnut Street — houses Source: City of Toronto Archives
It was not the only brothel in the street’s history and the crime of ‘keeping a disorderly’ arose several times. In February 1863, a William Fraser was charged with running a disorderly house; others were found in the house at the time officers arrived. Later that year, Jane Mathers, a ‘dissolute character’ who kept a ‘den’ (which was possibly a disorderly house’ was arrested for being drunk and disorderly.
There were also references unfortunate references to death, such as a coloured woman Mary Ann Blinden found dead in an occupied house in 1851. She apparently was widowed with no home. She had no markings on her body and the verdict was “a rather undefined one”. In December 1859, a woman, Mary Sheppard, froze to death on the street. She was part of the Brooke’s Bush Gang. The woman had spent the day drinking and was ready to set off to one of the gang’s haunts on Stanley (Lombard) Street when “she got benumbed by the cold” and laid down on the street. She was found and brought to a police station where she breathed her last breath.
In 1870, Mary Lewis, of 112 1/2 Sayer Street, was found to have made “three very determined attempts to destroy herself.” She tried to throw herself in an used well. She was said to have “chronic suicidal mania” after three weeks ago trying to throw herself out a window. Later that year, a Black woman was stopped from throwing herself into the lake at Bay Street. She was married to Richard Lewis, a Black man, who “abused her so much lately.” She was under the influence of alcohol. The individual may have been the same woman — Mary Lewis — in both stories as the surname, suicide attempts, presence of alcohol, and lack of marital cohesion run through both tales.
1937 166-172 Chestnut Street Source: City of Toronto Archives
The Sayer Street Outrage
In the early morning of December 13 1858, two women — Ellen Rogers and Mary Hunt — were assaulted and raped by a gang of twelve men in Rogers’ home on Sayer Street between Osgoode and Agnes Streets. Several men went to the door and demanded entry. When Rogers objected and told them she had no girls there, they burst down the door. Hunt stated that two men held her down while five violated her. The Globe stated that Hunt herself was “not of good character” and the house was of “bad repute”, but both those facts did not “lessen the crime.” Hunt was staying with Rogers, who was violated at the same time in another room. The women fought them off valiantly but the men searched the house before scattering; Rogers had also escaped. A passing officer entered the house following the events.
Four men — Robert Gregg, William Ross, Alexander Diog, and John Hellem — were charged with “committing an atrocious outrage” and subsequently held at the bar in Police Court and tried the Winter Assizes. Testimony was provided by Rogers, Hunt, the prisoners, and witnesses. Gregg was the lead man, indicted for the rape of Rogers. Mr. Eccles, representing the prisoners, argued that the womens’ reputation meant they could not be relied on and “how easy it was for women to seduce misguided young man and then turn upon them and charge them with one of the most repulsive crimes known to the law.” Mr Cameron, representing the crown, iterated there was sufficient evidence, but should the jury not believe it, the charge of assault was adequate. Gregg and the others as accessories were found not guilty; there was cheering in the room. There was an unsucceful attempt to prov breaking and entering and buglary. In being called as a witness, an angry and crying Ellen stated she did not see the point if “she was not worthy of belief”
Ellen Rogers and Mary Hunt were interesting characters. In May 1858, Rogers was charged with running a disorderly house on York Street. She seemingly later moved to Sayer Street were she ran another brothel. Only month after the trial above, a man reported a robbery at the house of Rogers; her, Hunt and other “women of bad repute” were arrested. The next year, Rogers and Hunt were charged with defrauding a man, farmer Obadiah Rogers, of $100. The complainant accompanied Hunt to the house and his pockets were rifled through during the night. Hunt pleaded guilty to theft and Rogers was found guilty of receiving. Rogers was sentenced to four months in prison and Hunt to 3 months and two weeks; the complainant received $65 back. In 1860, Rogers — listed as a woman of abandoned character – was charged with bigamy, after marrying John Irwin, while her first husband, David Rogers, was alive and in Kingston Penitentiary. The first marriage was in Kingston in November 1856 while the second in January 1860. It must be noted that it unclear if this is the same Ellen Rogers from the Sayer Street Outrage as Rogers is listed as having a companion named Irwin — but this is a George Irwin. Also, her husband a year prior to the outrage left her. Nonetheless, she is listed as not of the greatest character in both. An Ellen Rogers appears in 1861 Census as living on Parliament Street and is listed as 38 years, married, and Roman Catholic.
1861 Census Source: Library and Archives Canada
The Murder and Arson on Sayer Street & The Greenwood Trial
On the morning of April 15, 1863, the body of Catherine Walsh was found in her home at 156 Sayer Street. She was strangled to death. A novel, “The English Country Gentlemen” was found in the house with the name “William Greenwood.” An inquest was conducted at Mr. James Ramsay’s tavern and the man was brought in but denied his involvement. Another dead body – the child of Walsh – was found in a cupboard.
1938 158-160 Chestnut Street Source: City of Toronto Archives
William Greenwood was 26 years old, a gardener, and worked for George Leslie’s Nurseries in modern day Leslieville. He was then employed as gardener of J.H. Cameron. Greenwood knew Walsh when she was servant and nurse for the Camerons. Walsh, 32 years old, came from Ireland to Canada about 10 years ago. Following the Camerons, she left to work for Mrs. Shanly and others on Sayer Street.
Greenwood knew Walsh and co-habited with her, but stated he did not kill her. He found her dead in her house. He moved her body to the bed and accidently knocked a candle under the bed, which started the fire.
Greenwood was found not guilty of killing Walsh but was culpable on the arson and received jail time of seven years. But in the midst of the murder proceedings, it was revealed that Green committed infanticide. This was the child of Agnes Marshall, who was working for Cameron and was intimate with Greenwood. Marshall seemed to have an illegitimate child and Greenwood help her hide it. He hid it in a water closet where it died and then wrapped it in one of Marshall’s aprons and threw it an apron.
He was sentenced to hang for it. In a twist, Greenwood ended his own life by hanging himself in his cell with a towel and cell bars.
Sayer Street Transformed
In 1870, Sayer Street was made into Chestnut Street. The reasons for the renaming is unclear, although other renamings have occurred to alter the public perception of a street. And it appears the renaming was somewhat controversial.
Someone writing to The Globe after the announcement complained of the change:
“Is it possible that the Corporation is not aware that Sayer street was so called by the late Chief Justice Robinson who wished to perpetuate a beloved mother’s maiden name in connexion with a property he owned, and many acres of which he presented to the city in the shape of the streets — reserving to himself and trifling and necessary privilege of naming them? It is not unseemly to wipe out from our city map the name of that mother who gave to Canada one of her most distinguished sons — of her who resided in Toronto from its earliest settlement and who has within it now upwards of fifty descendants?”
The Globe, April 12, 1870
Famed Toronto historians Henry Scadding and John Ross Robertson echoed this lament:
“But the modern Chestnut Street has nothing about it in the past or present associated with chestnuts of any kind. The name “Sayer” should have been respected.
It is unfortunate when persons, apparently without serious retrospective thought, have a momentary chance to make chances in local names. Chancery might well be invoked to undo in some instances what has been done, and to prohibit like inconsiderate proceedings in the future. Equity would surely say that a citizen’s private right should be sustained, so long as it worked no harm to the community; and that perplexity in the registration and description of property should not needless be created.”
Henry Scadding, Toronto of Old, 1878
“Chestnut Street was originally Sayer street, and there was no call for the change as it never had any association with chestnut trees.”
John Ross Robertson, Landmarks of Toronto, 1894
Today, nothing remains of the old Sayer Street. Its southern end was absorbed and removed by the new city hall and civic square and its northern end by the hospital district. The remaining street with its residences eventually gave way to parking lots, hotels, condos, office blocks, and new businesses.
At the current foot of the street, however, the new provincial courthouse stands over the former locale of the Sayer Street Chapel. In the excavations to the prepare for the building, artifacts were found related to the site and The Ward, including a former inscription stone to the church. On Google Maps, as of this writing, an entry appears for the British Methodist Episcopal Church on its former site.
2024 Chestnut Street at Armoury Street Source: Google Maps
Sources Consulted
“The 25,000 Loan.” The Globe, 26 Sept. 1857, p. 2.
“An Act of the Municipality of the City of Toronto.” The Globe, 7 May 1853, p. 219.
“Additional Lamps in the City.” The Globe, 1 Oct. 1856, p. 2.
Arthur, and Otto. Toronto: No Mean City. University of Toronto Press, 1986.
Backhouse, Constance B. “‘The Sayer Street Outrage’: Gang Rape and Male Law in 19th Century Toronto.” Manitoba Law Journal, vol. 20, 1991, pp. 46–68.
“Board of School Trustees.” The Globe, 22 May 1854, p. 3.
“Board of School Trustees.” The Globe, 8 Nov. 1854, p. 2.
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City Police, 27 May 1865, p. 1.
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“City Police.” The Globe, 12 Feb. 1859, p. 3.
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“City Police.” The Globe, 9 Feb. 1859, p. 3.
“The Conviction of Greenwood.” The Globe, 9 Jan. 1864, p. 2.
“Determined Attempt to Committ Suicide.” The Globe, 14 May 1870, p. 1.
“Disgraceful Conduct.” The Globe, 3 Feb. 1854, p. 2.
“Emancipation Day In Toronto.” The Globe, 2 Aug. 1860, p. 2.
“Emancipation Day.” The Globe, 3 Aug. 1858, p. 2.
“The Executioner Anticipated.” The Globe, 23 Feb. 1864, p. 2.
“The Greenwood Trial.” The Globe, 16 Nov. 1853, p. 2.
“The Greenwood Trial.” The Globe, 17 Feb. 1864, p. 1.
Henry, Natasha. “Freedom Abound: Celebrating Emancipation Day in St. John’s Ward, 1845–1860.” Spacing Toronto, 31 July 2018, spacing.ca/toronto/2018/08/01/freedom-abound-celebrating-emancipation-day-in-st-johns-ward-1845-1860/.
“Horrible Outrage On A Woman.” The Globe, 15 Dec. 1858, p. 2.
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