“Old” Streets of Toronto

Across the map of Toronto, there are several “Old” versions of major streets: Old Yonge Street, Old Leslie Street, et cetera. These are smaller and certainly older streets that predate yet still exist alongside their longer, newer counterparts.

How old are these “old” streets anyways? Why were they built as they were in the first place? Why were they replaced?

Tremaine’s Map showing old courses of Toronto’s streets.
Source: Old Toronto Maps

Here are five examples of “Old” Toronto Streets and their histories:

1. Old Yonge Street

Year rerouted: 1835

When Yonge Street was laid out in the 1790s, it was not the continuous straight path we think of today. The sheer length of the street almost welcomed obstacles. At York Mills, the challenging topography around the West Don River caused it to divert east just south of York Mills Road. It curved north and back west to join the original course. In 1835, the street was realigned and straightened. It seems in the 1920s, Yonge Street was re-routed again slightly to the west to allow for better automobile navigation.

Today, the old, “orphaned” course remains as part of Mill Street and Old Yonge Street. Old Yonge’s narrow, curvy course in parts maintains a rural quality. While at one time Yonge and Old Yonge once connected at its north end, this connection is now a roundabout. Finally, because of its length in the province, there are other Old Yonge Streets in Thornhill and Aurora.

Yonge Street, 2021.
Source: Google Maps.

2. Old Sheppard Avenue

Year rerouted: ~1934

Sheppard Avenue once existed in two separate sections on either side of the Scarborough-North York border. A traveller wishing to travel east or west through the two streets had to jog about 300 metres on Victoria Park to reach the other section. In 1934, the two roads were joined through a curving road running from just past Woodbine Avenue to the lower street in Scarborough. The move was the idea of Ontario Premier George S. Henry whose estate stood where the new Sheppard Avenue connection ran.

Today, the orphaned North York section of the old road now exists as residential Old Sheppard, albeit with small parts removed around Highway 404.

Old Sheppard Avenue, 2021
Source: Google Maps

More reading: Scenes From O’Sullivan’s Corners & Muirhead’s Corners

3. Old Lawrence Avenue

Year rerouted: ~1961

Lawrence Avenue is and was one of many streets which was impact by Toronto’s ravines. West of Victoria Park Avenue, Lawrence once took an interesting route across the East Don River Valley. Like Sheppard Avenue, there were two sections of the street: the Scarborough section which exists today and a North York section. The North York section jogged up Victoria Park over the Canadian Pacific Railway, ran briefly next to the track, and continued west for 1.5 kilometres. From here, it took a rather curvy route south down the East Don Valley, crossed the Don River via a bridge, and curved back north and west before continuing towards Don Mills Road. Presumably, this was easiest way in the 19th century to navigate the valley.

In 1961, Lawrence Avenue was straightened with a road directly connecting Victoria Park and Woodcliff Place, curling northwest from Scarborough with several new bridges to accommodate the Don River and CPR.

Today, the orphaned old road exists as roughly as part of Roanoke Road and, more famously, a short access road to the East Don Trail named Old Lawrence. The remaining section west of the river along with the old bridge itself have been lost.

More reading: Scenes From East Don Trail

4. Old Leslie Street

Year rerouted: ~1968

Like Lawrence Avenue, Leslie Street’s course at one time also had to divert around the East Don River. Also of 19th-century origin, a traveller going north on Leslie had to turn west for a short distance and then northwest for about 500 metres to meet with Sheppard Avenue. There was then a jog east on Sheppard, which included a bridge over the river and finally a left turn to travel north again.

In the 1950s, with the construction of Highway 401, Leslie Street was altered to curve through the highway, but the course has otherwise remained the same. In 1968, the street was reconfigured again to join with Sheppard more directly. The Don River was also straightened and a new bridge was constructed which spanned the entirety of the new four-way intersection.

Today, the old course remains as Old Leslie Street, albeit a shorter version of the original route is available today to the public. It joins the new Leslie Street via Esther Shiner Drive. South of that street, there are City facilities. North of Esther Shiner, Old Leslie serves the Leslie Street TTC Station before it crosses over Sheppard via an overpass. It then curls back down to join the street (there is also a parking lot with an entrance to the East Don Parkland trail).

More reading: Scenes From East Don Parkland

5. Cummer Avenue

Year rerouted: ~1969

The original course of Cummer Avenue west of Leslie Street was an 1819 construction. The street was laid out as a side road from Yonge Street by the Cummer family to access their holdings (a mill and camp) near the East Don River. When it approached the valley, it curved down to roughly follow the river’s course. It crossed the river via a bridge and eventually the railway tracks at a level crossing. Finally, it terminated at Leslie Street.

By 1969, the street was rerouted to curve north away from the river (which looks to have been straightened around this time as well). The street passed through a new wider bridge over the Don River and then under a railway overpass before eventually becoming McNiccol Avenue at Leslie Street.

The old, orphaned course still exists in parts. The curved section lives on as part of the East Don Parkland trail, although not all of it follows the old path. The old bridge is in situ as well. The trail travels east through the hydro corridor where it terminates at the railway tracks. On the other side, Old Cummer Go Station and a hundred-metre long Old Cummer Avenue hold the old name.

More reading: Scenes From East Don Parkland

Click here for the map below of “Old” Streets.

For more “Old” Streets, I created a sequel here.

Toronto’s Lost Streets: Tate & Water Streets

In the compelling theme of ‘Lost Toronto’, the area bordered by Eastern Avenue, Cherry Street, the Don River, and Mill Street in the West Don Lands has had a transformative history. Two intersecting streets, Tate Street and Water Street, were at the figurative and geographic centre of this intriguing district.

In his Landmarks, John Ross Robertson wrote Water Street was named after the Don River, which the street once ran along. Before 1876, Water Street was East Street after its location in the city of Toronto. In its longest version, Water Street ran from Eastern Avenue to the railway tracks. The street looks to date from the 1830s when the marshy area of the east end of Toronto was added to the street grid.

Robertson wrote Tate Street was named after Mr Tate, the contractor for the Grand Trunk Railway (the right of way ran south of the street). In its longest version, Tate Street ran from Cherry Street to the Don River. Don Loucks and Leslie Valpy wrote in their Modest Hopes: Homes and Stories of Toronto’s Workers from the 1820s to 1920s that Tate Street first appeared on maps in the 1850s.

Several details are available about life on Tate and Water Streets. Loucks and Valpy describe the area around and including the streets as a “bustling neighbourhood, with rows and rows of workers’ cottages as well as large and small factories”. The detailed Fire Insurance Map of 1889 tells us these were mostly tiny, one-storey, wooden structures, some of which (mostly on Water Street) had rough cast or plastered finishes. It also shows a relatively populous district with several pockets of empty lots, notably on Water Street north of Front Street and the south side of Tate Street near Cherry Street.

The Toronto Directory for 1880 offers a snapshot into the working-class identity of Tate and Water Streets. Professions are listed as mostly labourers. This is not surprising considering the proximity of industries: Gooderham and Worts distillery to the west, the Toronto Rolling Mills (until 1914) and Grand Trunk Railroad to the south, and the William Davies Co. giant meatpacking operation to the east.

Toronto directory for 1880
Source: Toronto Public Library

At the close of the 19th century, several developments altered the course of history for Tate and Water. By the early 1890s, the Canadian Pacific Railway opened a branch through the east end of Toronto and up through the Don Valley. The track ran south of the western side of Tate Street, crossed Water Street at a level crossing, and then curved northeast adjacent to the Don.

In 1900, the William Davies Co. successfully applied for some changes to the street grid to accommodate an expansion:

The closure of Beachall Street from Front to Mill;
The closure of Tate Street from the west limit of Beachall Street to the east limit of Vine Street
The southern extension of Vine from Front to Mill

The eastern closure of Tate Street from the new Vine Street (which was later renamed to Overend) razed structures across nearly thirty lots on and around Tate.

In 1905, the Canadian Northern Ontario Railway acquired the lands east of Cherry Street between Eastern Avenue and Front Street. The company built freight yards on the property, which would later serve the Canadian National Railway from the 1910s onwards. Water Street lost about eighteen residences north of Front Street.

Archival images of the area are limited, but two images in 1907 offer a good insight into the physical look of the area. The photos look up and down Water Street from north and south of the CPR crossing and Tate Street. Most notable are the wet, muddy, wagon-tracked streets. Tate and Water, along with Mill, Cherry, and Overend Streets were not paved.

The foot of Water Street had a row of houses (numbered 2 to 14) on the west side. The corner property was a grocery run by the McSherrys. The archives label these homes as “old”. While not condemned like others that are photographed, the age and condition of the structures likely made the area more primed for redevelopment.

Old houses ( front view ) – 2 to 14 Water Street, 1912.
Source: City of Toronto Archives

A few newspaper articles may have further pointed to the shabby nature of the residences. In 1904, a Mrs O’Brien was severely burned by an exploding lamp in her home at 12 Tate Street. In an odd tale from 1908, an 18-year old girl was turned away by her step-father and mother at 22 Tate Street after giving birth. The girl was taken in by a George Davis at 44 Tate Street where she slept downstairs in a low, mouldy room where water had been creeping in. Davis had four rooms in the house and he sublet two rooms to another family. While these events may have been one-offs or coincidental, they do fit the narrative of what was about to happen.

Old house – Mill Street opposite Water Street (161, vacant), 1912.
Source: City of Toronto Archives

In 1911, The Canadian Pacific Railway expanded again. In April, the company served notice to all “tenants of the district bounded by Cherry, Water, Overend, Tate, and Front Streets to vacate their premises by the end of the month”. Freight yards and sheds were to go in their place. The Globe noted the properties occupying the area were “shacks” and would be torn down. Tenders to tear down or remove sixty houses were awarded by the company at the end of the month, although residents stayed until June.

In May, the City granted permission to the CPR to close Tate and Water. The company had already acquired 90% of the property in the area. In June, there seemed to have been an impasse with Thomas O’Connor’s property. The CPR needed the property to build a railway viaduct. The company stated they would expropriate if no price was agreed and they differed on price. Loucks and Valpy wrote William O’Connor was a champion oarsman whose family moved to Tate Street in the 1860s; it is unclear if Thomas O’Connor was related, as the authors wrote the O’Connors left Tate Street in 1891. The final house on Tate Street was demolished in 1913. The streets continued to exist in the city directories and real-life, albeit as shortened versions of their former selves without anything except CPR and CNR structures built upon them.

Aerial, 1965.
Source: Toronto Public Library.

Industry in the West Don Lands area continued for the next seventy years. In the 1990s, the former William Davies Co buildings along with the CPR and CNR tracks were gradually removed. A failed project in the 1990s entitled ‘Ataratiri’ aimed to redevelop the land for residential use, a goal which was eventually fulfilled by the Corktown Commons parkland and the rebranded Canary District in the 2010s.

Ataratiri site plan, 1990. Source: City of Toronto Archives

Although Mill Street, Front Street, Cherry Street, and Eastern Avenue remain today and there is a new Rolling Mills Road, traces of Water Street and Tate Street and the bustling residential district once contained within them are essentially non-existent. Tannery Street roughly lays where Water Street once stood.

Tannery Road, 2020.
Source: Google Maps.

Two Amazing Rooftop Views of Toronto’s The Ward

In the early 1900s, St. John’s Ward or familiarly just ‘The Ward’ was a dense, immigrant enclave in the central core of the City of Toronto. The neighbourhood was roughly bound by Queen Street, College Street, Yonge Street, and University Avenue, and housed some of the city’s first Black, Jewish, Chinese, Irish, and Italian colonies. Two early 20th-century rooftop photos provide interesting overhead views of the physical makeup of the district.

The first rooftop view was taken in 1920 by iconic Toronto photographer William James from the top of the Alexandra Palace Apartments, formerly located at 184 University Avenue opposite the terminus of Gerrard Street West on the edge of The Ward.

The southeasterly scene below and far beyond the Alexandra Palace Apartments is fascinating. In the foreground is a great visualization of University Avenue’s history as two separate streets. Among the recognizable landmarks are Old City Hall and the T. Eaton Co. factory complex in the background (more on this further down), the Hester How School at centre-left, the Presto-O-Lite factory and the Toronto House of Industry at centre, and the African Methodist Episcopal Church, First Baptist Church, and Maclean Publishing Co factories at centre-right. Interspersed is a dense grid of low-rise housing and other structures which ultimately came to define The Ward.

There was another photograph also taken by James from the Alexandra Apartments, this one dated to “circa 1920”. Although generally quite similar, noticeable differences exist between this and the 1920 photo, most visibly that the latter is a much broader view of the same general area of The Ward.

While the date of the zoomed-in image is approximate, it almost certainly precedes 1920. The main differences between this and the 1920 photo is the lack of the Prest-O-Lite Factory (built 1917) and the northernmost Eaton’s factories (also built 1917). The most important detail, however, is the Eaton’s Annex building, which appears under construction. The store opened in 1913, which likely dates the image to 1912 or 1913.

The Alexandra Palace Apartments (also simply called the ‘Alexandra Apartments’, ‘The Alexandra Palace’, or ‘The Palace’) was a 7-storey, luxury apartment building constructed in 1904 during Toronto’s first apartment building boom, meaning it was one of the first of its kind in the city. The architect was the prolific George W. Gouinlock, who also designed the Temple Building. Famous residents included tycoon E.P. Taylor and Ontario Hydro founder Sir Adam Beck (the old Ontario Hydro Headquarters was directly north of the apartment). It is said that residents moved into the Palace to retire.

In the 1920s, the Palace went from apartment house to apartment hotel with a dining room already in its offerings. In the 1940s, the building was slated to become a nurses’ residence for Sick Children’s Hospital. By the 1950s, the building ceased to be a residence and was heavily remodelled to be a modern office building, losing much of its original exterior features. In 1968, the Alexandra Apartments building was demolished.

Postcard of The Alexandra, Queen’s Park Avenue, Toronto, Canada’s Finest Apartment House, 1910. Source: Toronto Public Library.

Postcard views of the Alexandra Palace, 1910s. Credit: Chuckman’s Photos.

The second rooftop photograph comes from the top of an Eaton’s factory tower once located adjacent to the Church of the Holy Trinity. Like the Alexandra Apartments picture, it was taken by William James. It is dated “circa 1910.”

The view is looking northwesterly over The Ward and has several common landmarks with the 1920 Alexandra Apartments image, such as Toronto House of Industry, the Hester How School, and the Grace Church. In the foreground along Bay Street (at the time called Terauley Street) and Dundas Street (Agnes Street) are the Terauley Street Synagogue, the Lyric Yiddish Theatre, and Police Station #2 (which appears to have officers in its yard). As with The Palace image, there are also the tightly packed streets of tiny residences, many undoubtedly housing men and women who were employed by Eaton’s. Finally, the distinctive rooflines of Queen’s Park and Toronto General Hospital loom far in the distance (with the Alexandra Apartments somewhere nearby).

The Eaton’s factory itself where James captured the image was a 12-storey structure located adjacent to the Church of The Holy Trinity. It was built around 1910 in a period when the Eaton’s footprint in the area expanded from a single store at 190 Yonge Street in 1883 to encompass at least half the block between Yonge, Bay, Queen and Dundas Streets by 1920. The factory was demolished in the 1970s when other Eaton’s factories and warehouses were razed in part to make way for the Eaton Centre (The Eaton’s Annex store referenced earlier was destroyed by fire in 1977).

The Eaton’s image is dated “circa 1910”, which is likely accurate as it is very comparable to the “circa 1920, but likely 1912-3” Alexandra Apartments photo. The Prest-O-Lite factory does not appear in the image, thus 1910-1917 is a fair timeframe.

Today, if the two William James rooftop photos were recreated, they would be taken from Mount Sanai Hospital and the Bell Trinity Square office building, respectively. Ironically, the Alexandra Apartments and the Eaton’s factory were both constructed and demolished in similar periods: the 1900s to 1910s and 1960s to 1970s. The dwellings, houses of worship, and businesses of The Ward also largely disappeared by the 1950s as lands were expropriated for various projects. The district continued to change since then until the present-day, making these century-old views a far cry to today’s world.

When Taddle Creek stank: Why the river was lost

Note: This article first appeared in Spacing Magazine, Issue 56. It has been reproduced here with permission.

In the late nineteenth century, Taddle Creek between Bloor and College Streets was a risk to public health. The waterway was then known as University Creek, since it passed through the grounds of the recently formed University of Toronto. It was considered a nuisance by everyone who commented on the unpleasant situation.

Once part of a picturesque natural landscape, by 1873 the state of University Creek had begun to decline, and it worsened over the next decade. Although arguably not the filthiest waterway in Toronto at the time (the Don River or Garrison Creek may have taken that title), the stream was essentially an open sewer.

Watercolour by Lucius O’Brien entitled University College, showing McCaul’s Pond on Taddle Creek, 1876. Credit: University of Toronto Archives.

The cause of the filth was sewage flowing from the nearby Village of Yorkville. The Toronto suburb was its own independent political entity at the time and, in the 1870s, its water supply and drainage were proving inadequate. Consequently, residents on Prince Arthur, Elgin, and Lowther Avenues, as well as on the north side of Bloor Street West, discharged their waste directly into the creek. There were also reports that McMaster College (now the Royal Conservatory) draining “refuse water from the sinks and water closets” into the stream as well.

Citizens called on the University of Toronto and City of Toronto to close the creek and hold Yorkville accountable, but little was accomplished.

And so, University Creek stank. McCaul’s Pond – the connected man-made pond named for the school’s first president – was a cesspool. Winds carried the stench as far north as Bloor Street, south to College Street, west to St. George Street, and east to North Street (now part of Bay Street). Above all, the University Creek nuisance posed a danger to the well-being of the approximately six hundred students and faculty at the University, the residents living around Queen’s Park, and visitors to the park.

University of Toronto Campus Map of area bounded by College, St. George, Bloor and Surrey Place, 1859. Credit: University of Toronto Archives.

The mismanagement of University Creek had consequences for the health of Torontonians. According to The Globe, dwellers close to the waterway had become “accustomed” to the odour, but their sense of smell had been “deadened” as if they were working in a “soap boiling factory.” A former alderman of the city was said to have been “laid up” by an unspecified illness caused by the creek.

Ultimately, however, an even greater fear grew out of the University Creek debacle. The impacts of wide-spreading diseases like cholera were well-known in Toronto by this time. The Town of York had experienced a bout of cholera in 1832, which took the lives of several hundred residents from a total population of 5,000. Two years later, another epidemic of the same kind hit what was by then the City of Toronto. These events led to greater awareness of sanitation and the creation of a municipal public health board. When Dr. John Snow uncovered the disease’s water-born roots in England in the 1850s, Toronto was, in theory, better placed to understand and respond to the disease.

McCaul’s Pond, present site of Hart House, circa 1880. Credit: University of Toronto Archives.

But a cholera outbreak swept through Europe and Egypt beginning in 1881. By 1883, the outcry over the state of Toronto’s waterways and the tangible possibility of an epidemic heightened concerns even more. At least two news articles unceremoniously likened University Creek to the ”River Styx” of Greek mythology. Another commentator argued in The Globe that cholera resulting from the stream would have been a ”blessing in disguise” as it would have spurred officials into action after a decade of inertia.

In 1883, public health reports on University Creek finally spurred action. Toronto’s medical health officer in commenting on the state of the polluted stream and its ”effluvia,” suggested the only effectual remedy was the construction of a sewer and, in the short term, the use of ”disinfectants.” In an interview with The Globe, Dr. John Oldright of the Provincial Board of Health echoed those recommendations. With that, the matter was turned over to the Board of Works, which solicited tenders for a University Creek sewer. The City Treasurer quoted a total cost of $11,200.

In 1884, the City Engineer received orders to proceed with the project, and the stream was encased underground. By May, the southern section of the University Creek sewer was completed first, connecting it to the existing Murray Street sewer. This portion ran through the grounds of “Sleepy Hollow”, the estate of Lieutenant-Governor John Beverley Robinson, on the south side of College Street between University Avenue and McCaul Street, “so that surplus water that may collect at the approach will be carried away”. The northern section was completed later that year.

Hering & Gray: Plan of the City of Toronto, Proposed Intercepting Sewers and Outfall, 1889. Credit: Fort York and Garrison Common Maps

Just as University Creek disappeared underground, references to the waterway’s name faded in the decades following the construction of the new sewer. Today, Taddle Creek – the common name for the stream since about the 1920s — lives on in the legends of lost Toronto. The ravine-like landscape of Philosopher’s Walk hides the north end of University Creek while Hart House and Hart House Circle sit over the former McCaul’s Pond. With some recent calls to daylight this portion of Taddle Creek, perhaps one day this long-buried creek may live again, only now, its fresh, clean water will be a public health benefit rather than a curse.

When Toronto renamed a street – twice

As Toronto City Council looks at renaming Dundas Street over its namesake’s support of slavery within the British empire, it is a reminder that it is not the first time the city has grappled with such an exercise.

Asquith Avenue runs about 350 metres east from Yonge Street just north of Bloor Street in Yorkville. Today, it is most known for being the home of the Toronto Reference Library. Hidden within its history is Asquith is not its original name; in fact, it was renamed twice before.

Asquith Avenue in 2021. Source: Google Maps.

Annexation & Duplication

The origins of Asquith Avenue lay in the 1830s with the independent village of Yorkville. The street was originally known as Jarvis Street, named after one of the village’s builders Sheriff William Botsford Jarvis.

Map of The Incorporated Village of Yorkville in the County of York and Province of Canada, 1852. Source: Historic Maps of Toronto.

When Yorkville was absorbed into the larger City of Toronto in 1883, the annexation created duplication in some street names between the two entities. There was already a Jarvis Street in Toronto (ironically, it is a candidate for renaming today for its own slave-owning connections). Named for Samuel P. Jarvis, it ran from the lake to its head at Bloor Street – and was only short distance away from the Jarvis Street in Yorkville. To avoid confusion, the smaller street was renamed.

“The names of the following streets in St. Paul’s Ward, which conflicted with the names of other streets in Toronto were changed: – William-street to Hawthorn-avenue, Jarvis-street to Bismarck-avenue, Sydenham-street to Cumberland-street, York-street to McMurrich-street, Beverley-street to Boswell-street, Grange-street to Baker-street, Emma-street to Baxter-street, John-street to Roden-place, Balwin-street to Crown-street, Dufferin-street to Bernard-avenue, Victoria-avenue to Dobson-avenue, and Chestnut-avenue to Turner-avenue. The accounts were passed, and the meeting adjourned.”
“Civic Committees”, The Globe, March 7, 1883, pg. 3

*Plan of the city of Toronto, 1882*: Source: Historic Maps of Toronto

The new name chosen for the former Jarvis Street was Bismarck Avenue. It was named for Otto von Bismarck, the Prussian statesman and later German chancellor who was best known for unifying Germany in the 1870s. The change was proposed by German-born Alderman Newman Leopold Steiner, Toronto’s first Jewish Alderman. In May 1883, Steiner read a communication from Prince Bismarck thanking Council for the naming honour.

Source: *Robertson’s Landmarks of Toronto*, 1894

22-24 Bismarck (Asquith) Avenue, 1890. Source: Toronto Public Library.

16-20 Bismarck (Asquith) Avenue, Parker’s Dye Works, side entrance, 1910. Source: Toronto Public Library.

“Lose all traces of Prussian Plutocracy”

Bismarck Avenue remained for another thirty years until World War I. Canada joined Great Britain in the Great War against Germany. As result, in 1915, the street name’s relevance came into question.

Alderman J. George Ramsden — the local representative of St. Paul’s Ward where Bismarck Avenue was located and the individual for which Ramsden Park is named for today — was an adamant champion for the street’s renaming. In May 1915, Ramsden presented a petition of 400 signatures of local residents around Bismarck and moved to approve the change. Among the signatories was the Central Methodist Church on Bloor Street, which backed onto Bismarck. According to the Toronto Daily Star, the site of the church was given by the grandfather of one of the victims of the sinking of the Lusitania – an event that stirred great resentment against Germany and its people, even at home. The council meeting went as follows:

“For that reason it was the desire of the petitioners that Bismarck avenue should lose all trace of the German Chancellor and of Prussian plutocracy. (Applause).”
“Refuse to appoint Smith as Head of Fire Department”, Toronto Daily Star, May 18, 1915, pg. 2

The Toronto Daily Star noted the Street Naming Committee normally only met in the fall, but given the circumstances, greater haste was needed. North Toronto previously had a street named for Kaiser Wilhelm, which was renamed by the the committee. Among the new possibilities for Bismarck were “Asquith”, “Kitchener”, and WWI battles in which Canadians prevailed such as “Ypres” and “Neuve Chapelle” (although newspaper also noted Torontonians may have trouble with their pronunciations).

Toronto City Council in its inaugural meeting of 1915. Alderman Ramsden is numbered 14. Source: Toronto Public Library.

Controller Ramsden in 1934. He retired from politics a few years later. Source: Toronto Archives.

At risk of change was more than just Bismarck Avenue, however. “If we change one or two German names, we might as well change all of them,” Alderman Ramsden commented. There were 16 “Teuton” names across the city of Toronto and the goal was to erase any reference to Germany in the city.

An interesting exchange during a Board of Works meeting. “Strachan Ave. Bridge is all a Bungle”, The Globe, July 31, 1915. Source: Globe & Mail Archives

Finally, in August 1915, along with a collection of German-origin names, Bismarck Avenue was formally changed to Asquith Avenue. The Globe explained the move in strong terms:

“No longer will the memory of Bismarck be perpepuated by the nameplate of a Toronto thoroughfare. The memory of the man of iron will be replaced by that of Great Britain’s incomparable statesman, Premier Asquith.”
“Bismarck gives way to British Premier,” The Globe, August 11, 1915, pg. 7

Asquith Avenue’s two former names are noted in the Goad’s *Atlas of the City of Toronto*, 1924. Source: Goad’s Toronto.

The Power of Names

The history of Asquith Avenue is a great summary of how and why streets are named and/or renamed. In many cases, it is out of necessity to avoid duplication and confusion, often following municipal consolidation. In other situations, they are motivated by the idea of elimination an undesired connotation surrounding that street – that is, either as a re-branding or as a politically-motivated exercise.

That time Toronto renamed Ann(e) Street to Granby Street.

Why? To rid a bad reputation.
What was Ann(e) Street named after? "A dear old lady."
What was Granby Street named after? Who knows.#TOhistory pic.twitter.com/MZlyDedRvG
— Bob Georgiou (@BobGeorgiouTO) July 3, 2020

In the 1880s, the idea of honouring a German statesman may have made sense. Toronto had a historic community of German settlers and at least one decision-maker of German descent. During World War I, with Toronto and Canada in a conflict with universal ramifications, honouring German ties was perhaps not as obvious. Strengthening the British character of the city — as Toronto often did in other ways, sometimes to very racist outcomes — became a priority. It turned into a deliberate attempt to “erase” all German connections in the city (at least, on the surface).

Names, statues, and monuments reflect the dominant values of the society and people who at the time have the power — both socially and politically — to make those commemorations. The kinds of places that are marked change or should change as that society evolves – or, at least, be afforded the opportunity to hold fair and serious discourse on the possibility of doing so.

Names do not necessarily create, ‘erase’, or ‘sterilize‘ history. They do, however, emphasize and prioritize the types of stories that are told or not told. The history of the naming of Asquith Avenue certainly shows that.

Asquith Avenue in 2019. Source: Google Maps.

A Toronto ghost sign explained (with a side of tartar sauce)

Recently, the redevelopment of a lot on the southwest corner of Pape and Gamble Avenues revealed an interesting bit of local Toronto history. The result of the removal of a billboard, an intriguing image on the north wall of 1042 Pape Avenue in East York was uncovered, revealing an intriguing tale of a small business and a city’s fascination with a popular dish: fish and chips.

Bunt’s Fish & Chips ghost sign, October 2020. For a detailed image, click here. Credit: Google Maps.

Signs of the past

Ghost signs are or were hand-painted advertisements located on the sides of buildings, which promoted businesses and products. A key to their placement is often the enterprises and subjects contained in the advertisements were situated or available nearby.

A ghost sign promoting Quaker Oats and others was revealed in the Honest Ed’s redevelopment in May 2018. Credit: Bob Georgiou.

This particular ghost sign at 1042 Pape Avenue is curious in that it promotes multiple elements. The top portion displays a slightly faint but distinct Coca-Cola logo. The bottom half is less familiar and carries much of the mystery. It reads:

BUNT’S FISH & CHIPS
WE DELIVER * GE 5213
POST OFFICE AT 1038

1038-1042 Pape Avenue in 2019. Credit: Google Maps.

It is a bit of cruel irony that a billboard covered the ghost sign for many years, as billboards replaced ghost signs as a mass marketing technique. With the big banner taken down, however, it allows us to dive deeper into the sign’s past and answer some important questions:

When was this sign painted?
Where was Bunt’s Fish & Chips?
When did it exist?
What about the post office?

Pape Avenue and Gamble Avenue, before redevelopment. A gas station has been at the corner since the 1950s. Credit: Google Maps.

Dating the Bunt’s ghost sign is an interesting task which is aided by a few pieces of context. The heyday of ghost signs as a promotional technique lasted from the early 20th century to about the 1950s or 1960s, with many coming in the Roaring Twenties when Toronto experienced a commercial, industrial, and demographic boom. This sign is particularly well preserved, so unless it was touched up later on as signs sometimes are/were, one can reasonably speculate it originated after 1920. It also may have helped that the billboard was protecting it from the elements. To know for sure, specific details about Bunt’s Fish and Chips and the post office must be uncovered.

A brief history of fish & chips

Working within the first half of the twentieth century, pinpointing the rise in popularity of fish and chips shops in Toronto is a useful exercise. When one thinks of old fish and chips restaurants today, two come to mind: “Len Duckworth’s Fish & Chips” on Danforth Avenue and “Reliable Fish & Chips” on Queen Street East. Both eateries opened in or around 1930. This means the Twenties and Thirties appear to be a good period to learn more about fish and chips restaurants.

Two fish and chips institutions in Toronto. Credit: Google Maps.

In perusing the Toronto City Directories, fish and chips shops first appear as a business type in 1923. 16 shops were listed for that year. Of course, it is very well possible they existed prior to this year. The Globe advertised business opportunities for fish and chip shops as early as 1922. Nonetheless, we can safely point to the mid-1920s as a period they at least became notable. As a point of comparison, in the United Kingdom, the national dish grew in popularity during World War I and hit its apex in 1927 with 35,000 shops across the country. A similar explosion occurred in Toronto: there were 137 fish and chips enterprises in the 1930 City Directory. It only grew from there.

As fish and chip shops rose in popularity, there were new technologies to make frying more efficient. The Globe, October 9, 1924. Credit: Toronto Public Library and Globe & Mail Archives.

The Globe, March 19, 1937. Credit: Toronto Public Library and Globe & Mail archives.

Solving the Bunt’s mystery

From here we can look at the city directories and newspapers beginning the 1920s for any mention of Bunt’s. The first time this occurs is in the 1930s — albeit not on Pape Avenue. A “Bunt’s Fish Store” appears at 908 Broadview Avenue in 1933. Interestingly, The Globe also mentions this shop and address in February 1933, but it is named “Bunt’s Fish and Chips.” In 1937, a separate Bunt’s Fish & Chips opens at 1036 Pape Avenue.

The Globe, February 24, 1933. Credit: Toronto Public Library and Globe & Mail Archives.

Might’s Greater Toronto city directory, 1937. Credit: City of Toronto Archives.

Curiously, there is also a second (or perhaps, third in this case) Bunt’s Fish & Chips at 866 Broadview Avenue in 1937, located several doors down from the original 908 Broadview shop. The original store ceases in the same year, however. The 866 Broadview Bunt’s location does not seem to last long, either; it disappears by 1940.

In 1942, the remaining Bunt’s Fish & Chips at 1036 Pape Avenue moved to 1042 Pape Avenue. According to Postal History Society of Canada, Sub Post Office No. 109 first appeared on Pape at 1027 in 1925 but moved to 1038 in the same year, where it remained until 1980. It was located at 1032 from 1987 to 1992. Finally, after twenty years in business, according to the lack of entries in the city directories, Bunt’s Fish & Chips also shut its doors in 1956.

Postal History Society of Canada record for Postal Sub 109 at 1038 Pape Avenue.
Credit: Richard E. Ruggle

Might’s Greater Toronto city directory, 1942. Credit: Toronto Public Library

Thus, to date the ghost sign, we must look at the period in which Bunt’s Fish & Chips was located at 1042 Pape Avenue and the Post Office was located at 1038 Pape Avenue. With this, the Bunt’s ghost sign likely went up some time between 1942 and 1956.

A legacy continued?

Unfortunately, few details and memories exist or could be located about the inner workings of Bunt’s Fish & Chips. The Coca-Cola advertisement on the ghost sign is appropriate as it likely would have been a drink available at the shop with an order of food. One local East York history recollection recalls that fish sold for 7 cents and chips sold for 5 cents at Bunt’s.

Despite its short twenty-year life, the Bunt’s Fish & Chips’ story is partially captured through this remaining advertisement at its former location. The relic is not only a marker of the business but by extension, Toronto’s intrigue of the humble dish. Finally, another part of its legacy which continues today: the barbecue-themed restaurant now at 1042 Pape Avenue also serves fish and chips.

The Bunt’s Fish & Chips ghost sign as it appeared in June 2021 unfortunately with a graffiti tag. Credit: Bob Georgiou.

Did you ever eat at Bunt’s Fish & Chips or another old fish and chips shop? Leave a comment below!

If you want to read more about the development of this stretch of Pape Avenue in East York, read my article here.

The Curious History of 28 Jameson Avenue in Parkdale, 1895

In the July 6, 1895 edition of The Globe newspaper, an impressive 14-room house appeared for sale. It was listed at 28 Jameson Avenue in South Parkdale, fronting onto Lake Ontario which a spacious lawn and private boardwalk. The advertisement promoted the property as nothing less than idyllic.

At first glance, the listing of 28 Jameson Avenue provides a window into the real estate market and lives of residents of late-Victorian Toronto. While it does accomplish this, the events in the home in the year before this listing offer not only a dark anecdote in Toronto’s history but a dark insight into the potential reasons for its sale only five years after its owners moved in.

The owners of the property were the Westwoods, who moved into the house in 1890, appropriately naming it “Lakeview”. The patriarch, Benjamin Westwood, was a successful industrialist who co-owned “Allcock, Laight and Westwood”, a famous fishing shop on Bay Street. Because of Benjamin’s business forays, the Westwoods were a very well-to-do family, moving from 11 Walmer Road in the Annex to 28 Jameson Avenue. By the time they reached Parkdale, the suburb was only in existence for 20 years and had been annexed by the City of Toronto the year prior, and was filled with other Victorian mansion and affluent families — although not exclusively.

On the night of Saturday, October 6, 1894, the Westwoods’ lives changed forever. The doorbell rang at Lakeview, and Benjamin’s son, Frank, went to answer it. An unknown character on the other side of the threshold pulled out a gun and “randomly” shot the 18-year old man. As the assailant disappeared, the young Westwood cried out. His mother, Clara Westwood, found him in agony at his front door. Frank Westwood succumbed to his injuries days later and was laid to rest at Mount Pleasant Cemetery.

The murder captured newspaper headlines for weeks and months following the unfortunate event. The police identified, Clara Ford, a 33-year old of mixed race who grew up in Toronto’s ‘Ward’ neighbourhood and was known to dress in men’s clothing (as she was accused to have done the night of the murder). After police questioning, she admitted to gaining revenge on her neighbour Frank Westwood who harassed her for her darker complexion and ultimately sexually assaulted her. In Ford’s trial the following year, the woman was acquitted, claiming that her confession was forced and false. Clara Ford was set free and soon left Toronto. Little is known of her fate after the events of the trial. She was later falsely accused by a journalist critic of Ford of boasting that she did kill Westwood. The murder itself remains unsolved.

Although much was made of the sensationalist trial, the fate of Clara and Benjamin Westwood after the events of 1894-5 is less discussed. The family put Lakeview up for sale months after Ford was found not guilty. One can imagine their heartache in living in the home where the horrific event took place. The 1895 Might’s Toronto City Directory listed the occupants of 28 Jameson Avenue as ‘Vacant’, but the following year’s Directory noted ‘Benjamin Westwood’ at the address once again. An 1896 Globe article confirmed the house was still unsold two years after Frank Westwood’s death. The publication also noted Westwood was living at the address in 1897. Ultimately, the house went to George Edwards, who lived in the house by 1899.

Leaving Parkdale, the Westwoods looked to continue with their lives in other, perhaps familiar areas of Toronto. They first moved into a home on Bloor Street East near Huntley Street. By 1902 however, they found themselves in the high society of Rosedale at 90 Scarth Road, often making the newspaper’s “Social” column and the Blue Book. A ‘quiet’ wedding of their daughter to a Chicago man took place in the residence in 1909.

Benjamin Westwood himself died in 1935 at the age of 90. By this time, he and his wife lived on St. Clair West near Yonge Street. The elder Westwood was buried at Mount Pleasant Cemetery where his son was laid to rest nearly 40 years prior. None of the houses the family lived in after (and even before) Lakeview stand today.

For 28 Jameson Avenue itself, the future was also not as fortunate after the Westwoods left the property. By 1910, George Edwards moved out of the home and Arthur Penman came in. In the mid-1920s, Lake Shore Boulevard West was constructed just north of the address, using Laburnam Avenue as its right of way. It looks as though the home survived expropriation at that time. Penman was seemingly the final owner of 28 Jameson Avenue, however, as the address last appeared in the Might’s Toronto City Directory in 1931. Thirty years after the creative destructive effects of Lake Shore Boulevard West, the Gardiner Expressway obliterated the rest of South Parkdale in the mid-1950s.

Today, the existence of the Westwoods’ Lakeview mansion is undetectable. Its violent history some 125-years ago is hidden somewhere in the grassy parkland between the Martin Goodman Trail and Lake Ontario.

Useful Links

Bateman, Chris. “The Lost Streets of South Parkdale.” Spacing Toronto, 4 Mar. 2017, www. spacing.ca/toronto/2017/03/04/lost-streets-south-parkdale/

“Digital Toronto City Directories : Toronto City Directories.” Toronto Public Library, www.torontopubliclibrary.ca/history-genealogy/lh-digital-city-directories.jsp.

The Dreams Attached to Places: From Suburb, to Slum, to Urban Village in a Toronto Neighbourhood, 1875-2002, Carolyn Whitzman, MA. A Thesis PDF

“Frank Westwood.” Mount Pleasant Group, https://www.mountpleasantgroup.com/en-CA/General-Information/Our-Monthly-Story/story-archives/mount-pleasant-cemetery/F-Westwood.aspx

Goad’s Atlas of the City of Toronto: Fire Insurance Maps from the Victorian Era, goadstoronto.blogspot.com/

Richard. “# 57 ~ The Strange Case of the Parkdale Mystery.” Toronto Then and Now, 1 Jan. 1970, torontothenandnow.blogspot.com/2015/05/57-strange-case-of-parkdale-mystery.html

Undine. A Murder in Toronto, 1 Jan. 1970, strangeco.blogspot.com/2017/03/a-murder-in-toronto.html

Whitzman, Carolyn. Clara at the Door with a Revolver: The Scandalous Black Suspect, the Exemplary White Son, and the Murder That Shocked Toronto. On Point Press, a UBC Press Imprint, 2023.

Scenes From The Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens

The Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens is a beautiful park in midtown Toronto which dates back almost ninety years. The cause to memorialize its namesake Alexander Muir was so great that he had the gardens dedicated to him twice.

Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens, 2020. Source: Google Maps.

The first Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens was located near Lawton Boulevard. It was in a triangular plot of land caused by the unusual eastward veering of Yonge Street near Heath Street. The “correction” was made to directly align Yonge Street in the original Town of York with Lake Simcoe when the street was originally surveyed in the 1790s. Yellow Creek flowed through the park.

Tremaine’s Map of the County of York, Canada West, 1860. Source: Old Toronto Maps.

With construction beginning in 1933, the Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens were officially opened on August 6, 1934. It was established 24 years after Muir’s death on June 26, 1906. The Gardens were located directly across Mount Pleasant Cemetery — his final resting spot.

Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens, 1934. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

“Alexander Muir Memorial Garden Officially Opened”, The Globe August 7, 1934. Source: Globe and Mail Archives & Toronto Public Library.

Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens, 1947. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

The entrance to the gardens featured an ornamental gate at Yonge Street. This led to an impressive stone wall and terrace with a carving of a verse of ‘The Maple Leaf Forever” — Alexander Muir’s best known work. In the garden were 1,000 rose bushes and a well-manicured lawn. In the north of the park was a sunken rockery garden and lily pools below a willow tree. Other ‘Canadian’ trees and Japanese cherry trees were also planted.

Old Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens Gates, 1935. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

Old Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens, 1935. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

Old Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens with Mount Pleasant Cemetery, 1935. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

Old Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens ravine or pond, 1935. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

Alexander Muir himself was a hero of sorts of old, colonial, British Toronto, so the appetite to pay tribute to him in the 1930s was high, especially with centennial celebration of incorporation of the City of Toronto happening in the decade. Among other identities, Muir was a patriot, educator, and composer. In addition to Yonge Street, Muir’s geographic footprint stretches across Toronto from Scarborough to Leslieville to Little Portugal — all school sites associated with him late 19th century.

Muir, Alexander, 1830-1906, 1855. Source: Toronto Public Library.

His ‘Maple Leaf Forever’ is an anthem for British Canada. Its original lyrics made a point of celebrating General Wolfe — the man who led the English to victory over the French at the Plains of Abraham — and highlighted scrimmages in the War of 1812 — a conflict used heavily in the construction of ‘Canadiana’. His funeral in 1906 was “impressive” and attended by “hundreds”, including the many older Toronto organizations Muir was affiliated with — the Loyal Orange Association, the York Pioneers, the Independent Order of Oddfellows, and others.

Muir, Alexander, gravestone, Mount Pleasant Cemetery, 1920. Source: Toronto Public Library.

In the 1950s, Toronto’s character was changing — both culturally and physically. The coming of Yonge Street subway almost spelled the disappearance of the Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens. The Toronto Transit Commission needed to fill in the ravine to make way for the Davisville Yard. The TTC eventually pledged to cover the $100,000 cost of moving the memorial. Proposed new sites for the gardens included on Lawton Boulevard itself which would have removed four houses and on Gladstone Avenue where Muir himself once worked. Eventually, a spot only several blocks north on Yonge Street was chosen.

“Subway Forces Move of Muir Memorial”, The Globe, December 29, 1950. Source: Globe and Mail Archives & Toronto Public Library.

Davisville Yard, 1956. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

The new location for the Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens was located near St. Edmunds Drive. The Lawrence Park neighbourhood was laid out in 1908 as a garden suburb with winding streets and comfortably sized lots. It also kept a ravine space extending south from the southeast corner of Yonge and Lawrence as parkland. This area would come to house the new Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens. In preparation, several hundred trees were cut down. A red maple from the old park was also moved to the new park.

Lawrence Park, 1934. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

Lawrence Park, 1947. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

The new Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens opened in Lawrence Park on May 28, 1952. Impressively, the wall and terrace were reconstructed in the new location and new trees and gardens were landscaped. A new, maple leaf-ornamented plaque was added to the gates to mark the occasion.

“Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens,”, The Globe, May 23, 1952. Source: Globe and Mail Archives & Toronto Public Library.

Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens, 1952. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens terrace, 1952. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens, 1956. Source: City of Toronto Archives.

A walk through the Alexander Muir Gardens today is a marvel. Leading from the gates is almost a labyrinth of paths and corners to discover. Well-presented flora and accompanying fauna catch one’s eye at almost every look.

Leading off the spacious lawn in the west part of the Alexander Muir Gardens, the park’s contours show themselves on the way up to Dawlish Avenue. This tree-covered topography hides Burke Brook, a Don River tributary. Following Alexander Muir Road past the tennis and lawn bowling courts, the trail continues through several parks ending at Sunnybrook Park.

As it has historically, the central wall and stairs rightfully remain the focal point of the Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens. In its modern use, the structure is best known as a popular destination for wedding parties. One wonders how much would-be brides and grooms and other park users have a look at the additional words of re-dedication which accompany the poem by Muir and reflect on his legacy and origins of the park. With everything that may come with it, Muir loved his country, and his profession in education is generally a commendable one.

In a current social climate in which the focus of commemorating Toronto history should be on untold stories rather than its colonial figures, these Memorial Gardens likely would not be a priority if they were created today. But alas, their visual beauty is a positive. Alexander Muir and his poem still live on today within the park.

Roads Never Built

By Bob Georgiou

This article first appeared in the Spring 2019/Issue 50 edition of Spacing Magazine. With permission, I have reproduced it here.

Throughout its history, the City of Toronto has reimagined its street grid. Growth periods following both World Wars brought with them road improvement schemes to address traffic congestion and better connect the city. Some projects – like the 1931 Church Street extension north of Bloor Street to Davenport Road – came to fruition. Others – most famously, the Spadina Road Extension-turned-expressway cancelled in 1971 – never saw their intended results. Here are four other road extensions in the 20^th century that would have altered the geography of Toronto if built.

Victoria Street

When: 1900s to 1930s

In 1906, the Board of Works discussed the possibility of extending Victoria Street from Gerrard Street to Carlton Street for a new streetcar route. Yonge Street relief had been a theme in road improvement, with Bay Street extended north from Queen Street to Davenport in the 1920s (it was even proposed to extend it to St. Clair Avenue in the 1930s and 1940s). Estimates in 1911 had the Victoria-to-Carlton scheme costing as much as $500,000, and a report by the Civic Improvement Committee proposed to extend it further to Bloor. With costs to expropriate property proving too high, Civic Works abandoned the idea in 1912. City Planners revived the idea in a grander plan for downtown streets in 1929. In yet another city-wide improvement plan in 1930, Works Commissioner RC Harris recommended a streetcar-free Victoria Street that would stretch north via Park Road to join with the also-proposed Jarvis and Sherbourne extensions of Mount Pleasant Road. A council motion in 1935 envisioned Victoria ending at Davenport Road, but none of these plans came to fruition. Today, Victoria Street is in fact shorter, ending at Gould after its last block was absorbed by the Ryerson Campus.

Credit: Civic Improvement Committee Report, 1911.

St. Clair Avenue

When: 1920s, 1960s-1970s

A Council decision in 1928 by East York and York County first imagined uniting the two sections of St. Clair Avenue. Initial talks involved land offers and easements from John H. Taylor and the Toronto City Estates to complete the extension in the Don Valley. Discussions followed in 1929 on the course’s starting point and overall engineering. One route extended straight east from Mount Pleasant Road while the other travelled by way of Moore Avenue via a bridge spanning the Belt Line Ravine from St. Clair. From here, the street would connect to the new Leaside Viaduct, then follow Don Mills Road to Woodbine Avenue before finally bridging diagonally across Massey Creek. Moore Park residents disapproved of the Moore Avenue alignment as it meant more vehicular traffic. Discussion seemed to taper off in the 1930s. Reprises in the 1960s saw a valley-spanning St. Clair brought up again, but these too ended in 1970 when the Metro government decided not to proceed after facing public opposition and high costs.

Cosburn Avenue

When: 1950s

As a candidate for East York Reeve in the 1956 election, Jack Allen campaigned on the eastward extension of Cosburn Avenue. After winning the position, he continued his push in 1957 and 1958, highlighting a scheme in which the street would continue past Woodbine Avenue by curving parallel to the disused CNR line in the Taylor-Massey Creek valley to connect with Victoria Park Avenue. The purpose was to relieve congestion at Woodbine and O’Connor. Allen also thought the extension would aid the case for a new courthouse at Cosburn and Woodbine and his vision of high-density apartment towers in East York. Parkland advocates at the Don Valley Conservation Association opposed the plan. Allen introduced a master zoning plan by developer and architect Sulio Venchiarutti of Urban Planning Consultants, but this was rejected by East York Council in 1959. A year later, the township adopted a different official plan and Allen was replaced as reeve by future mayor True Davidson.

Leslie Street

When: 1960s to 1990s

Following initial suggestions in 1968 and failed proposals in 1971 and 1973, in 1976 Metro Planners brought forward a $20-million extension of Leslie Street south of Eglinton Avenue. Debates around the idea coincided with another valley-spanning proposal in the 1970s for the direct routing of Lawrence Avenue from Bayview to Leslie. Arguments in favour of a lengthened Leslie centred on eased congestion – at the Leslie/Eglinton bottleneck and at neighbouring north-south avenues – while arguments against cited ravine destruction. Another report in 1983 and an environmental study in 1984 seemingly had the now $50-million scheme moving forward, with the route involving a high-level bridge over Wilket Creek Park, followed by a road along the CPR Belleville line before emerging at the Bayview Extension near Nesbitt Drive. Citizen groups argued that, if allowed, the Leslie proposal would re-open the Spadina Expressway debate. In 1988, Metro Council voted in favour of the 4-lane extension, but the price had gone up to $74 million dollars. Debate and public consultations continued into the 1990s with no extension built. In 2000 and 2002, Toronto Councillor Jane Pitfield proposed lengthening Redway Road to Bayview. Opponents feared the damage to Crowthers Woods and a rehashing of the Leslie debate, and nothing came of that plan either.

Sources

Victoria Street

“Planned New Car Lines” The Globe. 19 May 1906: pg 9.

“Open Victoria Street.” The Globe. 15 March 1907: pg 9

“The Extension of Victoria Street.” The Globe. 2 November 1909: pg 6.

“Victoria Street Extension.” The Globe. 14 January 1910: pg 7. – 330,000

“Extend Victoria St Under New Stature.” The Globe. 22 April 1911: pg 9. – 360,000

“Victoria Street Extension Favored.” The Globe. 3 June 1911: pg 8.

“C.P.R. to Keep Building Site.” The Globe. 28 July 1911: pg 8. – half-million

“Many Important Schemes for the Betterment and Growth of Toronto.” Toronto Daily Star. 30 December 1911: pg 5.

Report of the Civic Improvement Committee for the City of Toronto, 1911

“City May Abandon Victoria Extension.” The Globe. 24 February 1912: pg 9.

“Will Try Arbitration.” The Globe. 2 March 1912: pg 4.

“Victoria Street Extension Killed.” The Globe 18 May 1912: pg 9.

“Make Bloor Street Big Business Centre.” The Globe. 20 March 1917: pg 7.

“City Planners Propose New Downtown Streets.” The Globe. 12 March 1929: pg 15

“Work Commissioner R.C. Harris Presents New City-Wide Project.” The Globe. 15 May 1930: pg 13.

“A Bay Street Plan.” The Globe. 17 January 1930: pg 4.

“Victoria Extension Favored by Expert.” The Globe. 21 November 1930: pg 13.

“Report is Requested on Victoria Extension” The Globe. 26 September 1931: pg 14.

“Victoria Street Extension to Davenport Road Talked.” The Globe. 12 February 1935: pg 11.

St. Clair Avenue

“St. Clair Extension.” The Globe. 21 December 1928: pg 2.

“Favor Taylor Proposal St. Clair Ave. Extension.” The Toronto Daily Star. 21 January 1929: pg 3.

“St. Clair Extension Through East York Offer of J.H. Taylor.” The Globe. 21 January 1929: pg 13.

“Problem of Bridges Northeast of City has Many Angles.” The Globe. 5 February 1929: pg 23.

“Hottest Discussion at County Council on Radial Proposal.” The Globe. 7 June 1929: pg 28.

“Easement Offered for Further Link Extending St. Clair.” The Globe. 23 June 1929: pg 13.

“Citizens Reassured on Extension Plans.” The Globe. 22 August 1929: pg 21.

“Action Expected on Moore Avenue Boundary Bridge.” The Globe. 30 July 1929: pg 13.

“Objects to Bridge.” The Globe. 22 August 1929: pg 4.

“The Moore Park Bridge.” The Globe. 7 September 1929: pg 4.

“Residents Agitated By Bridge Question in Northeast Area.” The Globe. 20 September 1929: pg 17.

“M’Bride Declares St. Clair Extension ‘Out of Question’”. The Globe. 21 September 1929: pg 18.

“Scarboro Plans Work on St. Clair to Aid Jobless.” The Globe. 17 December 1930: pg 10.

“Request St. Clair Cross Don Valley.” The Globe and Mail. 31 October 1962: pg 5.

“Urban Renewal Study for Metropolitan Planning Area Covering 750 Square Miles Is Proposed.” The Globe and Mail. 7 February 1963: pg 4.

“Metro Shelves St. Clair Plan.” The Globe and Mail. 9 September 1970: pg 5.

Cosburn Avenue

“Promise to Campaign for Industry in Suburbs to Balance Housing Surge.” The Globe and Mail. 30 November 1956: pg 11.

“Site on Cosburn Ave. Urged for Courthouse.” The Globe and Mail. 14 February 1957: pg 4.

“Urge Alternate Site for E. York Court.” The Toronto Daily Star. 14 February 1957: pg 19.

“Reeve Asks Old Railway Be Expressway.” The Toronto Daily Star. 8 March 1957: pg 9.

“Reeve of East York Backs New Buildings.” The Globe and Mail. 3 December 1957: pg 5.

“Conservation at the Polls.” The Globe and Mail. 8 November 1958: pg 6.

“Residents Oppose Cosburn Extension.” The Toronto Daily Star. 6 June 1958: pg 29.

“Metropolitan Toronto: Scratch-My-Backism And the Courthouse.” The Globe and Mail. 26 June 1958: pg 7.

“Expect Hot Contests in Suburbs.” The Globe and Mail. 18 November 1958: pg 5.

“Cosburn Plan Foes Cut Chairman Short.” The Toronto Daily Star. 25 November 1958: pg 9.

“The Suburban Elections.” The Toronto Daily Star. 28 November 1958: pg 29.

“East York Greenbelt Should be Saved.” The Toronto Daily Star. 20 December 1958: pg 29.

“East York Zoning.” The Toronto Daily Star. 11 April 1959: pg 29.

“Suites to Oust Homeowners?” The Toronto Daily Star. 16 April 1959: pg 1.

“Raze Homes for Apartments?” The Toronto Daily Star. 16 April 1959: pg 3.

“It’s Improper, Mr. Venchiarutti.” The Toronto Daily Star. 20 April 1959: pg 29.

“Appraiser’s Kin Swung Land Deal, Probe Told.” The Toronto Daily Star. 21 May 1959: pg 2.

“East York Plan Limits Apartments to 5 ‘Pockets’”. The Toronto Daily Star. 22 June 1960: pg 41

“An East York Dialogue on Conflict of Interest.” The Toronto Daily Star. 19 June 1961: pg 7.

Redway, Alan. East York 1924-1997: Toronto’s Garden of Eden. FriesenPress, 2018.

Leslie Street

“Subway Expansion, Restriction on Cars, Sought for Toronto.” The Globe and Mail. 26 March 1968: pg 1.

“Time Needed for Study: Planners delay Flemingdon Scheme.” The Globe and Mail. 21 November 1968: pg 5.

“Transit Can’t Cope: Planners Want to Widen Metro Roads.” The Globe and Mail. 10 July 1976: pg 5.

“Here’s a plan to improve traffic.” The Toronto Star. 29 January 1979: pg A8.

“Alderman Says Extension Won’t Solve Traffic Mess.” The Toronto Star. 31 August 1979: pg A15

“Transport Plan Not Changing: Eggleton.” The Globe and Mail. 11 May 1984: M3.

“Battle Won by War Still Undecided on Extending Leslie past Eglinton.” The Toronto Star. 20 November 1984: pg A25.

“Neighbors Protest Bayview-Leslie Road Plan.” The Globe and Mail. 31 March 1988: pg A16.

“Leslie Extension Sparks Emotional Debate.” The Toronto Star. 13 April 1988: pg A7.

“Leslie Street Debate Resurfaces.” The Globe and Mail. 23 March 1991: pg A9.

“Notice of Public Hearing: Leslie Street Extension on Bayview Avenue Widening.” The Toronto Star. 27 August 1992: pg A26.

“Plan for Leslie Street Extension Scaled Back.” The Globe and Mail. 7 October 2000: pg A27.

Scenes From Toronto Railway Museum & Roundhouse Park

Since the train first tracks in the 1850s, Toronto’s railways have been a big part of its geography and history. They connect the city and its surroundings, joining neighbourhoods and people. They were also the driving force of industry. Founded in 2001, the Toronto Railway Museum tells their stories. One finds it across the CN Tower, Rogers Centre, and Ripley’s Aquarium in the appropriately named Roundhouse Park.

Map of Toronto’s Railways, date unknown. Credit: Toronto Public Library.

Operated by the Toronto Railway Historical Association, the Toronto Railway Museum is based in the great John Street Roundhouse and the surrounding Roundhouse Park. The location is appropriate: Toronto’s railway corridor extended east and west of Union Station and was once the nexus of the city’s transportation network. In many ways, it still is.

Union Station Railway Corridor, 1969. Credit: City of Toronto Archives.

The John Street Roundhouse was part of that infrastructure. The structure itself was built by Canadian Pacific Railway between 1929 and 1931 as a maintenance and storage facility and to allow trains to, well, turn around.

As an interpretive experience, Toronto Railway Museum is immersive. It starts with an interior space in the Roundhouse’s Stall 17. There are maps and train memorabilia. There’s even a simulator which allows you to conduct a train around historic Toronto.

Outside, it functions as an open air museum. Well-produced plaques are located around park, often near significant landmarks. There are of course some train cars, some of which allow entry inside.

Most notable to me is the marker about the Workers of John Street. Most of Roundhouse Park’s landmarks highlight something physically awing like the Water Tower or a Canadian National Railway train, but this plaque focuses on the easily forgotten human element behind this tough industry.

Of course, Don Station is a remarkable site too. It is part of Toronto’s lost geography of bygone railway stations, companies, structures, and tracks. It operated 1896 to 1967 at Queen Street and the Don River. Then it spent time at Todmorden Mills until 2008 when it was moved to Roundhouse Park and subsequently restored. It also serves the museum’s gift shop and departure point for the park’s own train rides.

CPR Don Station looking west, 1910. Credit: City of Toronto Archives.

Goads Map, 1913. Credit: Old Toronto Maps

John Street Roundhouse closed in 1986. It marked an era where the railways were taking a bit of a backseat in Toronto’s development. Industry within the city was declining as manufacturing moved elsewhere. The physical lands of the railroads shifted too. Tracks were removed and lands — and some remaining sites — were redeveloped for new residential, commecial, and entertainment uses.

Union Station Railway Corridor, 1992. Credit: City of Toronto Archives.

The Corridor just south Union Station saw a lot of this transformation. In 1976, the CN Tower was completed. The 1980s saw opening of the Metro Convention Centre and SkyDome (now Rogers Centre). The latter actually replaced another roundhouse. Using the facade of the old Postal Delivery Building, the Air Canada Centre (now Scotiabank Arena) came in 1999 as the new home of the Toronto Maple Leafs and newly created Toronto Raptors. Since then, a condo community has grown up around it since as well as a fan area called Maple Leaf Square in 2010. Most recently, the area got the impressive Ripleys Aquarium in 2013.

Union Station Railway Corridor, 2019. Credit: Google Maps.

The John Street Roundhouse was designated a National Historic Site in 1990. Its heritage value comes from being the best example of a roundhouse in the country — its turntable actually works! Roundhouse Park opened around it in 1997 to further its legacy. In 1999, the roundhouse’s stalls became home to the aptly-named Steam Whistle Brewery and then Leon’s in 2009 (it closed for the Rec Room two years ago).

In 2019, the John Street Roundhouse celebrates its 90th birthday, making it a good time to reflect on its related history and geography. And stories. Lot of stories.

Useful Links

Old Time Trains

Toronto’s Railway Heritage by Derek Boles

Toronto Railway Historical Association

Toronto Railway Museum

Category: Toronto

“Old” Streets of Toronto

1. Old Yonge Street

2. Old Sheppard Avenue

3. Old Lawrence Avenue

4. Old Leslie Street

5. Cummer Avenue

Toronto’s Lost Streets: Tate & Water Streets

Two Amazing Rooftop Views of Toronto’s The Ward

When Taddle Creek stank: Why the river was lost

When Toronto renamed a street – twice

Annexation & Duplication

“Lose all traces of Prussian Plutocracy”

The Power of Names

Further Reading

A Toronto ghost sign explained (with a side of tartar sauce)

Signs of the past

A brief history of fish & chips

Solving the Bunt’s mystery

A legacy continued?

Further reading

The Curious History of 28 Jameson Avenue in Parkdale, 1895

Scenes From The Alexander Muir Memorial Gardens

Roads Never Built

Roads Never Built

Sources

Scenes From Toronto Railway Museum & Roundhouse Park