Vintage Toronto Ads: A Romantic Meal from Parkdale Wines

Originally published on Torontoist on May 8, 2012.


Time, October 26, 1970.

Call it a populist romantic meal, 1970-style. Instead of buying a fancy vintage to accompany a luxurious feast of chateaubriand or surf and turf, you line up at the nearest liquor store, fill out the form (unless you’re lucky enough to be near the first self-serve LCBO outlet), bring home an affordable red wine with a classy chateau on the label, and choose your preferred method of preparing frankfurters topped with French’s finest mustard. (Based on the look of this hot dog, the vintner suggests boiling or steaming.) Et voila—pleasurable, cheap fine dining for the proletariat!

Etobicoke-based Parkdale Wines, maker of Chateau Cartier, was acquired by Labatt in 1965. Given beer’s association with backyard weenie roasts, perhaps it’s not so surprising somebody in marketing paired one of the company’s wines with a hot dog. In some ways, if you can follow the long series of buyouts and mergers that followed, the company could be considered one of the ancestors of current vino giant Vincor.


Vintage Toronto Ads: Clean, Rich Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer

Originally published on Torontoist on January 3, 2012.


Mail and Empire, November 2, 1911.

While we doubt that Toronto’s cultural elite emptied bottles of PBR at their private clubs a century ago, we sense the local importer had a good feel for who this brew could be marketed to: germaphobes and health purists. The claims of cleanliness also make us wonder how lax local brewers were toward sanitizing their facilities, or if there was a subtle implication that Lake Michigan water was purer than Lake Ontario.

Despite advertisements such as this one, Pabst, along with fellow American brewers like Anheuser-Busch, failed to gain a toehold in the Toronto market during the early 20th century. Few drinkers appear to have switched over from local producers like Dominion or O’Keefe’s.

An odd fact we discovered while researching this piece: during Prohibition in the United States, Pabst survived by manufacturing cheese. Their most popular product was Pabst-ett, a processed product that was too similar to Velveeta for Kraft’s liking. Result: Kraft sued and won, which led the cheese giant to produce Pabst-ett under license for a while and then, once Prohibition was over, to acquire the product outright. Which leads us to wonder: what if the marketing gurus at PBR bought back the rights to the name and marketed Pabst-ett as a hipster snack (playing on the humour of its low dairy content) to be enjoyed while tossing back a can or pitcher?

The Black Bull of Yore

Originally published on Torontoist on April 23, 2011. Additional images have been included.


Robertson’s Landmarks of Toronto (first series) (Toronto: J. Ross Robertson, 1894).

Patio denizens and motorcycle enthusiasts may be relieved to hear news reports that fire damage at the venerable Black Bull was largely confined to the upper apartments and that the bar will reopen today. Had the three-alarm fire spread, Toronto would have lost what is debatably its oldest watering hole: drinks and hospitality were first served at the Black Bull in, depending on the source, 1833 (a year before York became Toronto) or 1838 (a year after William Lyon Mackenzie’s rebellion).

Based on a portrait of the bar in Robertson’s Landmarks of Toronto, even in its early days the Black Bull attracted a parking lot full of hogs…of the animal variety.

York was a hospitable place in the old days, for the places of entertainment in every section of town were very much more numerous, when compared to the population, than they are now. Up to a recent period, when it was succeeded by a brick building, bearing the same name, however there stood at the north-east corner of Queen and Soho streets the antique-looking inn, shown in the illustration, with a swinging sign and wooden water trough and pump in front. This was the Black Bull Hotel, a favourite stopping place for farmers on their way to town from the west and north-west.


The Globe, July 14, 1858.

The property was originally purchased by Peter Russell, for whom nearby Peter Street was named, in 1798 and was initially used for farming. Other illustrious families whose names remain on downtown streets (Baldwin, Willcocks) were owners of the property at Soho and Queen West over the first half of the 19th century. According to Robertson, the first landlord of the Black Bull Hotel was a Mr. Mosson. Between 1886 and 1889, the building was bricked and expanded.

Being a bar, it’s inevitable the Black Bull would eventually land in the police blotter. In a court case reported in the December 7, 1895 edition of the Globe, proprietor Richard Allcock and bartender Charles Bates were sued by carriage builder William Potter for $200. The plaintiff went to the Black Bull for a drink with a friend that September, but “while there a number of others congregated and had a drink at his expense.” When Bates demanded payment, Potter refused and a fight ensued. As Bates threw Potter out of the bar, the bartender struck Potter with such force that he lay unconscious for a week and was bedridden for a further five. The defendants denied the charges.

According to a 1903 classified ad, the Black Bull offered anyone looking for a place to stay a “large comfortable room, en suite or otherwise, for rent, with or without board.” That the ad didn’t use “quiet” as an adjective may have been due to incidents such as one that occurred on March 10, 1904. Four rowdy young men caused a ruckus in their room that night, during which they ignored the bartender’s attempt to quiet them down. When proprietor William Seager went up to the room, the men pounced and broke his leg. Two months later, when the incident went to court, Seager hobbled his way to the stand on crutches. His attackers received sentences ranging from 60 days to six months.

Corner of Soho St. and Queen St., looking north-east

Clifton House, 1972. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 2032, Series 841, File 48, Item 26.

For much of the 20th century, the premises operated as the Clifton House, a name it shared with an east end home for boys where beer was the only drink available in its beverage room. Articles published after the name reverted back to the Black Bull in 1977 indicated that it was “pretty rough” during its Clifton days. All we were able to ascertain about the Clifton was that it was among the 68 venues licensed to sell beer in Toronto in 1934. By the early 1980s, when the bar was owned by retired football players Bobby Taylor and Jimmy Hughes, the Star reported that “the only reminder of its past are the colourful residents who patronize the pub, along with Ontario College of Art students and a full range of athletic types.”

Additional material from Robertson’s Landmarks of Toronto by John Ross Robertson (first series) (Toronto: J. Ross Robertson, 1894); the December 7, 1895 edition of theGlobe; and the December 23, 1903, May 26, 1904, November 1, 1934, and November 18, 1980 editions of the Toronto Star.


New Year’s Eve, 1976

Originally published on Torontoist on December 30, 2014.


Toronto Sun, December 28, 1976.

From the moment a group of up to 20 rowdy teens boarded the subway at Sheppard station during the final half-hour of 1976, TTC employees sensed trouble. Clad in ski jackets and jeans, the inebriated New Year’s revellers ignored the advice posted in ads promoting that night’s free service: they brought their party onto the TTC.

No one in the group realized that their actions would play a key role in ending free New Year’s Eve rides for the next 30 years.

As the train headed south, the teens moved between cars, smoked, and smashed bottles. While the group obliged conductor Peter Goehle when asked to remain in one car and butt out their smokes, they demonstrated their displeasure by giving him a Bronx cheer. As the train approached York Mills, three of the teens visited Goehle’s cabin to wish him a happy New Year. “I told them I didn’t mind if they had a good time,” Goehle later told the Star, “but I didn’t want it to get out of hand.”

Rowdiness on the TTC during New Year’s Eve had grown since it had accepted an offer from McGuinness Distillers to cover fares for the evening in December 1972. Sponsorship was necessary due to legislation that forbade the TTC from providing complimentary fares at its own cost. City officials, auto clubs, and temperance advocates hailed the free rides as an opportunity to combat drunk driving. McGuinness promoted the service through humorous ads advising revellers not to kiss TTC drivers.


Toronto Star, January 3, 1977.

The service caught on: ridership estimates across the system rose from around 242,000 in 1972/73 to 350,000 in 1976/77. The mood was generally mellow amid the blare of noisemakers and haze of pot smoke. “For many without parties or other functions to attend, welcoming the new year aboard the subway has become something of a tradition,” observed a Star editorial. “It’s healthy for citizens to turn to the transit system for a public celebration—just as much as it is for those who choose to turn up at Nathan Phillips Square.”

Yet some TTC officials grew alarmed at the behaviour they witnessed during New Year’s Eve. Chairman Gordon Hurlburt opposed the program, citing an incident in which he and his wife couldn’t use the stairs at Davisville due to vomit and shattered beer bottles. General manager of operations James Kearns warned in January 1974 that, as partying and open consumption of alcohol increased, “this might develop into a serious situation.”

That situation developed on Peter Goehle’s train. As the train passed Summerhill just before midnight, the teens noticed homeward-bound restaurant workers Gurmail Singh, Ranjit Singh Manjat, and Omparkash Verma. At least one of the teens approached Singh and called him a “Paki.” When Singh responded that he was a Punjabi-speaking Indian, the youth grabbed his hair and began punching him in the face. Goehle saw what was happening and contacted train driver Edith Bujold, who called the incident into transit control.

While waiting for instructions, the train stopped at Rosedale. James Carson, a 61-year-old investigator for the Ontario ombudsman’s office, boarded the train. He had spent a quiet evening with friends and was rushing home to his apartment at the Colonnade to check on his flu-stricken wife.

Carson boarded in the midst of the assault on two of the three men. Hearing a cry of “Let’s get the Pakistanis,” he urged the attackers to stop. One teen kicked and punched Carson, while another threw him off the train. Carson, who had fought in the Second World War and Korean War and worked as a counsellor at the Don Jail, told the Star that he had “never seen hate in the eyes of men as I did on the subway train that night.”


Despite a broken, bloody nose and a six-inch gash on his leg, Carson urged the assault victims, who had run off the train, to get back on. “I didn’t think it would be right to give up that easily,” he later noted. “We got on the train again and the passengers just sat there like lumps of granite. They were probably thinking, ‘Nice guy, damned fool.’” One assailant approached Carson and told him to put his head back or else he would hit him again.

Meanwhile, Bujold and Goehle were advised to keep the train running as normal until security met them at Queen Station. When the three victims got off the train at Bloor, Goehle called them to his window and asked if they wanted to continue south to talk to security. All refused. He was then approached by Carson, who felt Goehle had a “frightened, paralyzed look on his face” and was “gutless” for insisting the train move on. Goehle’s version was that Carson almost expected him to arrest the teens on the spot—“I wasn’t going after that group of 20 by myself.”

While the TTC claimed that security met the train at Queen, Bujold and Goehle indicated that nobody showed up until Union. The rowdy teens left the train at Queen to greet 1977.

News of the attack heightened awareness of racial tensions in the city, and racist acts targeting those of Indian or Pakistani descent in particular. Over New Year’s weekend, an NBC news program aired a report that declared racism in Toronto was “like a time bomb ticking away.” The past year had seen several racist attacks on TTC property and the increased use of “Paki” as an all-purpose slur. Editorial pages, such as the Globe and Mail’s, condemned these incidents:

Every single time something like this happens on the subway or anywhere else in Toronto, it must be greeted with anger. Racism and urban violence have to be fought hand-to-hand, on a daily basis by everybody if they are not, imperceptibly, to gain legitimacy… The transit system, and Metro, are headed for trouble if there is any feeling at all that these kinds of acts are “understandable” or “unavoidable.”

TTC officials bickered over the handling of the incident. Some believed the security system was fine and that the messages logged from the train didn’t leave a serious impression. Others, including Hurlburt and union officials, felt the train should have remained at Rosedale or Bloor until help arrived. TTC chief general manager Michael Warren felt that while the free rides saved lives, they encouraged the rowdyism that had led to 90 recorded incidents that night.


Toronto Star, January 14, 1977.

Thanks to an anonymous tip phoned into CFGM radio (now CFMJ), two of the teens were arrested on January 4. One was initially charged as an adult because New Year’s Eve was his 16th birthday, but he was dropped to juvenile delinquency status when it was realized that in the eyes of the law, he had not officially become a year older until January 1. The suspects were released into the custody of their families.

Over the following weeks, further reports of racially motivated attacks on people of Indian descent surfaced. Three teenage cousins visiting the city from London, Ontario, and New York City claimed they were beaten around 3 a.m. on New Year’s between Yonge and Spadina stations. On January 7, Guyana native Indal Narine was kicked in the back and legs at Victoria Park after he declared he wasn’t from Pakistan.

McGuinness sent mixed signals about continuing its sponsorship after the TTC commissioner suggested the distiller pay an additional $10,000 the following year to cover extra security. “Our $55,000 should be enough to cover the cost of a few broken subway windows and the mopping up of a little spilled beer,” stated McGuinness spokesperson Peter Mielzynski. “As far as we’re concerned, the protection of subway riders is the sole responsibility of the police New Year’s Eve or any other night. We simply buy time from the TTC. We can’t be expected to pay policemen’s salaries as well.”

There was debate over who should police the subway; Warren felt it was the Metropolitan Toronto Police’s responsibility, not the TTC’s. Deputy police chief Jack Ackroyd felt the media was going overboard with its coverage and claimed that exaggerating racial problems would deepen tensions. “If you start keeping track of how many times one racial group assaults another,” he said, “I’m not sure that won’t escalate the problem further.”

On January 14, the Star published the first statements from the men Carson had tried to protect. While Manjat declined to talk, Singh and Verma discussed the incident and its lingering psychological effects. Verma, a 46-year-old father of five, admitted that he was “scared all the time.” He had been afraid to help the others because of his age and fear of being struck. He observed, though, that he was generally happy in Canada and that “all countries have bad people.” The three men were discovered through the efforts of publisher Aslam Khan, who was irritated that the media had assumed the victims were Pakistani (none of them were).

In response to such incidents, Metro Toronto chairman Paul Godfrey hired Ryerson president Walter Pitman to serve as a one-man task force on racism. Pitman quickly became alarmed by a report that showed a high level of bigotry among Toronto high school students, especially toward those of Arabic, Indian, and Pakistani backgrounds. His report, Now is Not Too Late, was issued in the fall of 1977 and provided 41 recommendations related to fighting discrimination.


Toronto Star, April 4, 1977.

Carson was honoured for his bravery, especially by the city’s Asian communities. He was presented with a ceremonial sword by the Shromani Sikh Society on January 23 and named “Man of the Year” by a Pakistani community newspaper. Globe and Mail columnist Scott Young wondered when, or if, the white establishment would jump in, as officials such as police chief Harold Adamson had urged people not to emulate Carson’s actions. “In my opinion, people who have the bravery and humanity to act in some way when other people are being bullied should be honoured, thanked, treated as exceptional citizens,” Young wrote. “It diminishes us all when this does not happen at an official level of our society.” Those honours finally materialized in June, when Carson received the Ontario Medal for Good Citizenship.

During a January speech in front of the Canadian Council for Racial Harmony, Carson (who’d been made an honorary member) blamed entitled inebriated youth for the recent racist attacks. “It’s about time we realized that the bulk of these kids are just damn rotten spoiled brats,” he told the audience. “If these kids treat their parents like dirt at home, why are we so surprised when they lash out at people in the subway.”

Yet Carson forgave his assailants when they had their day in court. In April, Judge H.D. Wilkins placed both offenders on probation for six months. By the time the decision was handed down, Manjat and Singh had returned to India. Their absence, combined with difficulties in identifying the prime assailant, led to the dropping of one of the common assault charges.

In August, McGuinness declined to renew its sponsorship. The TTC decided to continue extended-hour service on New Year’s Eve, but to charge the normal fare. Each of the 27 trains in operation that night carried two uniformed police officers, while a mini police station operated at Bloor. When the stats were released in January 1978, the TTC discovered that the axing of free fares had cut ridership in half. Though Warren mused about accepting proposals from new potential sponsors, free New Year’s Eve rides were dead.

The TTC resisted offering free fares for the next 30 years. By the 21st century, this set it apart from GO and transit systems in surrounding municipalities such as Brampton and Mississauga. When asked about in 2003, a TTC spokesperson was blunt: “We don’t do that.” As late as 2006, TTC chair Adam Giambrone noted the system might lose as much as $1 million if it offered free service. The following year, revising losses down to $90,000, the TTC voted in favour of four hours of free service on December 31. Initially backed by Capital One, the 1970s tradition was reborn thanks to a series of partners, including current sponsor Corby (who now own several old McGuinness brands).

Additional material from the January 10, 1973, January 3, 1974, January 4, 1977, January 5, 1977, January 6, 1977, January 8, 1977, January 12, 1977, January 17, 1977, January 28, 1977, April 7, 1977, December 30, 2006, and December 7, 2007 editions of the Globe and Mail; the December 19, 1972, January 3, 1977, January 4, 1977, January 5, 1977, January 6, 1977, January 7, 1977, January 10, 1977, January 14, 1977, January 17, 1977, January 14, 1978, January 18, 1978, and December 31, 2003 editions of the Toronto Star; and the January 5, 1977, and January 6, 1977 editions of the Toronto Sun.


A Vintage Toronto Ads column originally published on December 29, 2010 also discussed the free transit service.


Toronto Sun, December 28, 1972.

For the fourth year in a row, New Year’s Eve revellers will be able to take advantage of free TTC service to go to and from their celebrations, even if only to stay on the subway all night to toast their fellow passengers. Free transit service to ring in a new year has occurred intermittently over the past few decades, almost always paid for by a sponsor—McGuinness Distillers did when they paid thirty thousand dollars to help Torontonians welcome 1973.

Since legislation at the time prevented the TTC from offering free service, city and law enforcement officials welcomed the donation. Alderman Paul Pickett, who had proposed a free ride scheme the previous year, hoped free service would “give a positive incentive to people to leave their cars at home and use the transit system.” An editorial in the Globe and Mail echoed the thoughts of many who also hoped the free rides would reduce the risk of an unhappy new year:

There was never really any acceptable excuse for impaired driving, on New Year’s Eve or any other night; but now it will be futile to plead that there was simply no alternative. Lives may well be spared, injury can be avoided, and the ignominy, expense and chagrin of arrest and charge can be set aside…It’s a magnificent opportunity to be both sociable and safe, and we hope that by now other distillers are wishing they had thought of it first.

Around 377,000 passengers took advantage of the free service. Subways and surface vehicles turned into parties on wheels, with young and old engaging in conversations, blowing horns, and freely drinking (which was illegal, but everyone seems to have turned a blind eye). One streetcar driver told the Star that he noticed those too young to drink took advantage of the night to explore the city or just ride for the heck of it. If there was a quotable line for the evening, it came from the many riders who repeatedly proclaimed “I can’t believe it’s free!”

Additional material from the December 20, 1972 edition of the Globe and Mail; the December 19, 1972 and January 1, 1973 editions of the Toronto Star; and the January 10, 1973 edition of the Toronto Sun.


Toronto Star, December 14, 1973.

And here’s the bonus material I originally posted on my blog on January 1, 2015:

star 1977-01-01 scarborough

Toronto Star, January 1, 1977.

The Star’s initial coverage of New Year’s Eve celebrations put a positive spin on the evening. A full page of its January 1, 1977 edition was devoted to scenes across Metro Toronto, from revellers downtown to skating clowns in Scarborough. Those who ventured out endured temperatures which dropped to -13°C.

On Yonge Street, the new year swept over the strip “like a new disco melody.” Among those mildly disappointed by the scene along Yonge that night was Chuck Ross, a 22-year old marketing analyst from North York. “Most of our friends have girlfriends now, so we figured we’d see if we could find some girls tonight by ourselves,” he observed. “I guess we haven’t tried very hard.” Spurned by the ladies, Ross and a friend wound up dining at an unidentified burger joint, staring at the mirror lining the counter.


Toronto Sun, December 30, 1976.

At the International Centre on Airport Road, 5,000 people welcomed 1977 in a funky manner thanks to the Godfather of Soul, James Brown. Though his most innovative years of the decade were behind him (previewing the concert, the Globe and Mail described Brown as “the former king of soul, since demoted to a lowly dukedom”) the crowd enjoyed Brown’s performance—when they could see it. “In this big place our table must be at least 150 yards from the stage,” Scarborough resident Bill Neal told the Star. “We should have brought our field glasses.”

Over in Scarborough, around 4,000 people gathered to skate and dance to live music at the civic centre. A parade of 150 people, including marching bands and clowns, endured the frigid temperatures during their trek over from Scarborough Town Centre. “We just came along to warm up for a party later tonight,” noted 17-year-old Brett Cleminson, a member of the Agincourt Air Cadets Kazoo Band. “We go in all the parades even in the cold ones like this one.”

While bubbly flowed at most parties, tea was the strongest beverage served at Willard Hall, the Women’s Christian Temperance Union’s female residence on Gerrard Street (now operated by Covenant House). Few stuck around that night to partake. The beverages were “a bit stronger than tea” over on Camden Street where attendees included writers Marian Engel (guess which book of hers was mentioned) and Judith Merrill. The Star noted that both scribes went wherever their friends were: “No one else invited me,” Merrill noted.

star 1977-01-01 subway

Toronto Star, January 1, 1977.

As for the subway, none of the stories touched on the as-yet unreported racist assaults. Instead, those interviewed depicted a blissful scene:

“It’s like there’s a spell on New Year’s Eve,” said 18-year old Peter Juskovic of Downsview, as he joined the party-goers and the parties on the subway this morning.

“Everybody’s friendly, everybody’s happy. It’d sure be different world if it was like that all the time.”

Juskovic, a tow truck driver, was riding the Yonge St. line “for the fun of it” shortly after the New Year began, and he and his buddy, 18-year-old John Cowie, also of Downsview, were having the time of their lives.

“I started out New Year’s Eve by going to a tavern and having a great steak,” Juskovic said. “Then we went to Mrs. Night’s for some disco dancing, and then off to Nathan Phillips Square for a bit of skating—and, of course, to meet any available girls.”

“Right now, we’re riding the subways to meet people, wish them a happy New Year, make them smile, get them ready for tomorrow. It’s great. It’s a beautiful world right now.”

star 1976-12-29 ad page F5

Toronto Star, December 29, 1976.

In the weeks following New Year’s Eve, papers were filled with op-eds on racism in Toronto. Some were well-considered, others boneheaded. Among the latter was a piece by Paul Tuz, the executive vice-president of the Metropolitan Toronto Better Business Bureau, which was published in the Sun. His solution to racism: patriotism!

Warning: the following passage might make the heads of anti-colonialists explode. Heck, it will make most readers do their finest imitation of that scene in Scanners (you know the one I’m talking about).

Great empires, great nations have always been capacious and willing to receive and use the contributions of widely varying ethnic groups. The Roman Empire, the British Empire were strong because both were able to include, rather than exclude people of divergent races and cultures. In the case of the British Empire, racial and ethnic differences disappeared in common service to the Crown . The unifying force was loyalty. And in Canada today, our unifying force was ought to be something comparable.

Tuz then notes how schoolteachers no longer stress patriotism in the classroom, that school boards no longer supported scouting organizations, cadet corps, or other “organizations that help foster the principles of citizenship.”

We seem to have let slip away many of the old institutions by which we assimilated newcomers into the Canadian way of life; and we have failed to replace them with alternatives for bringing our adopted sons and daughters into the Canadian family. A family which can be proud of each and every one of its members.

Aside: while the Star and the Globe and Mail gave significant coverage to the subway incident in the days following New Year`s Eve, the Sun took its time. Readers learned far more about Prince Andrew’s visit to the Toronto area, a story a Sun editorial admitted it was bored by yet wasted tons of trees on.

star 1977-08-17 editorial

Toronto Star, August 17, 1977.

When McGuinness Distillers pulled its sponsorship of free New Year’s Eve rides on the TTC in August 1977, the Star published this editorial.

Additional material from the December 31, 1976 edition of the Globe and Mail and the January 9, 1977 edition of the Toronto Sun.


Who’s Afraid of the Self-Serve Liquor Store?

Originally published on Torontoist on March 15, 2011.

An LCBO employee tests out the first self-serve liquor store in Metropolitan Toronto. The Telegram, February 22, 1969.

The provincial government has recently mused about loosening Ontario’s liquor laws to allow greater mobility at outdoor festivals and other special events for those with a beverage in hand. We shouldn’t expect any rapid changes though—alterations to liquor regulations in Ontario have historically involved baby steps.

For decades after prohibition was dropped in Ontario, the government devised numerous methods of making drinking as unattractive as possible, from tight restrictions regarding service in beer parlours to requiring that Ontarians hold permits to purchase alcohol. A heavy-handed, thou-shalt-not attitude reigned supreme.

By the late 1960s, customers tired of having to purchase liquor by going into an LCBO store, signing a slip, and handing it to a clerk to retrieve their purchase, which was presented to them shamefully in a paper bag. As one customer put it, the process “makes you feel like a criminal or something. It’s a lot of nonsense.” Some clerks agreed, as they accepted slips signed by noted Torontonians like Donald Duck. Creating conditions which tut-tutted the public for wanting to buy liquor could only go on so long while the times were a-changin’.


The Telegram, July 23, 1968.

On July 23, 1968, provincial secretary Robert Welch announced that the province was launching a comprehensive review of the liquor laws. Plans to open three test “self-serve” liquor stores in Etobicoke, North York, and Weston the following year were unveiled, along with hints of studies into extending drinking hours on the weekend (which thanks to Sunday blue laws meant last call on Saturday was at 11:30 p.m.), lowering the drinking age (which occurred in 1971) and selling beer in grocery stores (which, unless you’re a fan of near beer, hasn’t happened yet). Welch felt that these changes were necessary to prove to younger Ontarians that “we are hip and relevant” (when asked if he was concerned about dropping the drinking age from twenty-one to eighteen, Welch replied “I’ve got more confidence in young persons’ approach to drinking than I have in some people who are sixty-one”).

The Weston store, located in a privately-built structure at 40 South Station Street, was the first of the initial trio of self-service locations to go into service. As its opening in February 1969 neared, the Telegram offered a glimpse of what customers would find inside:

The customer will enter through a turnstile, select the bottles of his choice and leave through one of five desks. Two walls are now lined with rum and Canadian whiskys and there are three islands of shelves loaded with liqueurs, brandies and other hard exotics. A separate room, panelled and ornamented with wine barrels, contains a wide range of wines.

Interior shot taken during the store preview. The Weston Times, February 27, 1969.

The store’s initial selection included eight hundred brands of hard liquor which, in the eyes of the Telegram, were arranged “like brazen hussies in a nightclub.” Two consultants, easily identified by their green blazers, were available to guide customers through the one-hundred-and-seventy Canadian and one-hundred-and-forty imported varieties of wine. If a consultant wasn’t around, cards were placed under each type of wine to indicate their level of sweetness. Among the remaining store staff were three part-time clerks that the Telegram claimed were the first female employees to work in a liquor store. None of the items on the shelf required a signed slip for purchase.

Opponents of self-service argued it was one more step in allowing too much permissiveness in society, which opened the door to more ruined lives and social depravity. Typical of the responses from those who disagreed with the concept was that of Reverend Gordon Brown of Runnymede Baptist Church, who felt easier access to alcohol would raise the crime rate (“It’s definitely a retrograde move. Criminality is related to alcohol”). Temperance advocates and religious organizations who worked with alcoholics feared that drunk driving incidents would skyrocket. Opposition also came from within the LCBO, namely clerks at existing stores. “It’ll never work,” said Bill Reed, a clerk at the liquor store at York and Wellington streets. He told the Telegram that “it won’t reduce the number of staffers required, it won’t be any faster—if anything, it’ll be slower and there will be a lot of shoplifting.” To combat shoplifters, and any temperance zealots tempted to wander in to smash the inventory, mirrors were set up around the Weston store for staff to monitor any fishy activity.

Seventeen eager customers were waiting outside the door when the store officially opened at 10 a.m. on February 24. One minute later, the first paying customer departed. Weston resident and trucking firm operator Douglas Wardrope put historical significance ahead of what was actually in his paper bag. “I’m not even sure of what I got,” he told the Star. “I guess I just wanted to be first.” (For the record, he bought a $2.55 bottle of Canadian whisky.) Wardrope raved about the new store, especially how fast he was in and out.

40 South Station Street as it looked in 2011. Photo by Cherri Hurst/Weston Historical Society.

Customers in Weston weren’t the only beneficiaries of change that day. In the traditional counter-service liquor stores and Brewers’ Retail outlets, the hated slips were amended so that signatures were no longer required—customers just filled in their brand preference. While self-service would prove the dominant form of store, it took twenty-five years before the last of the counter service stores was phased out.

As for that first self-serve store, the site is currently occupied by the Islamic Education Guidance Center.

Additional information from the July 24, 1968 edition of the Globe and Mail; the July 24, 1968, February 20, 1969, February 21, 1969, and February 23, 1969 editions of theToronto Star; and the February 21, 1969 and February 22, 1969 editions of theTelegram.


This story was referenced in a story on the history of selling liquor at LCBO stores I wrote for TVO in 2017, a piece which also led to my first television appearance.

tely 69-02-21 for against looser liquor rules

From the February 21, 1969 edition of the Telegram, the pros and cons of allowing self-serve liquor stores.

tely 69-02-22 opening dry run

The Telegram, February 22, 1969. 


Vintage Toronto Ads: Easy-Going, Manly Ales

Originally published on Torontoist on October 13, 2009.


Liberty, May 1960.

Based on these ad campaigns for two of Labatt’s top-selling brews in 1960, we surmise that 50 was targeted to men who indulged in a healthy round of log rolling/jumping or other potentially fatal tomfoolery while downing a few stubbies, while IPA was intended for the alpha male who wanted no distractions, apart from watching his favourite sport, while indulging in his favourite beverage.

India Pale Ale was one of the company’s oldest brands, having won awards in North American brewing competitions as far back as 1876. Labatt 50 arrived on the scene in 1950 to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the corporate stewardship of John S. and Hugh Labatt. The brew was Labatt’s best-seller until Blue overtook it in the late 1970s. Though it never regained the sales crown, 50 later developed a reputation as a cheap brew for hipsters to knock back.

What better place for happy young Toronto drinkers to sing the praises of their favourite beer in 1971 than the recently opened Ontario Place?


Vintage Toronto Ads: Aren’t You Glad You Remembered Hutch?

Originally published on Torontoist on April 14, 2009.


Toronto World, February 19, 1900.

A flip through the pages of any Toronto newspaper published around 1900 reveals numerous pitches for castor oils, kidney pills, liver pills, trusses, nerve tonics, Asian catarrh treatments, and assorted cures for ailments that might not be believed when taking a sick day at the office (“I can’t come to work today due to tired blood!”). The advertising for Hutch, a remedy for indigestion, was among the most graphic of the time, as today’s samples testify. This poor fellow’s hallucinatory images while in the depths of his agony are the stuff of literary masters of horror.


Mail and Empire, November 4, 1899.

Hutch’s ad writers were less reserved about describing the reasons one might need to use their product than their modern counterparts, though the man on the left may illustrate their true feelings. Colourful language and archaic terms provide much of the entertainment value of discovering these old ads—try dropping “eructated” into a conversation on your next walk past the site of Hutch’s manufacturer on Colborne Street.