Vintage Toronto Ads: Which Vehicle Has the Right of Way?

Originally published on Torontoist on September 6, 2011.

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Toronto Sun, September 27, 1981.

The courtesy suggested in today’s ad only went so far. After two more decades of drivers pinning in public transit vehicles, legislation forcing vehicles to yield to buses became provincial law on January 2, 2004. We suspect there were drivers who took fiendish glee in purposely cutting off buses one last time on New Year’s Day before the risk of receiving a $90 fine kicked in.

Thanks to lobbying efforts from the Association of Municipalities of Ontario and the Canadian Urban Transit Association, Ontario followed British Columbia and Quebec in enacting a yield-to-bus law. TTC officials felt the law would result in speedier service, with some routes expected to see travel times decrease by five minutes. Signs on the backs of buses employed more forceful language: “please” was dropped from the yield warning sign. The change of wording outraged Toronto Star reader Harold Nelson, who complained to the paper that the TTC was “not as polite as it once was.” His remarks prompted Barbara Gilbert of Newmarket to respond. “When was the last time you saw a sign that said ‘please stop?’” Gilbert wrote. “Maybe the reader should familiarize himself with the rules of the road before he heads out in his vehicle.”

Additional material from the April 24, 2004 and April 30, 2004 editions of the Toronto Star.

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Monorail! Monorail! Monorail!

Originally published on Torontoist on September 1, 2011.

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A photo montage showing what a monorail might have looked like at Bay and Bloor. The Telegram, April 29, 1958.

You’ve heard all the jokes and Simpsons references related to Doug Ford’s vision of a Toronto monorail, his grandiose derailment of Waterfront Toronto’s development plans. But Ford is not the first Etobicoke-based politician to be mesmerized by the possibilities of single-rail travel. From the 1950s onwards, civic officials from the former township have participated in schemes ranging from a monorail system within Etobicoke General Hospital to an above-ground link between Union Station and the airport. One flirtation with single-rail technology that Etobicoke civic officials helped promote with their suburban peers, though, had it ever become reality, would have resulted in a monorail being installed along Bloor Street, instead of a subway line.

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Vernon Singer, Reeve of North York 1957–1958. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 217, Series 249, File 251, Item 1.

For an idea that ultimately stunk to City of Toronto officials, it’s appropriate that the inspiration came at a sewer convention. North York Reeve Vernon Singer was attending a sewage conference in Dallas in early 1958 when he wandered off to the local fairgrounds. He was mesmerized by the short monorail line that had attracted visitors to the site for the past two years. Back at the convention, Singer told fellow Metro Toronto councillors Chris Tonks (the reeve of York Township) and Charles R. Bush (an Etobicoke representative) about his discovery. The politicians met a publicist for the system’s manufacturer, Monorail Inc., who dazzled them as Lyle Lanley wowed the citizens of Springfield. Especially impressive was the construction cost: $1 million per mile. Given the trio’s reservations about the estimated $200 million cost for an east-west subway along Bloor Street, a monorail that could be built for peanuts was highly appealing.

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Globe and Mail, April 29, 1958.

Once they returned to Canada, Singer and Tonks demanded that Metro Toronto council conduct a full investigation into the benefits of monorail before giving final approval for a Bloor subway. While Tonks believed it would be “deplorable” if his demand wasn’t met, TTC Chairman Allan Lamport wasn’t so sure. “Lampy” told the Star that he thought “a couple of high-priced salesmen have been advising some amateurs.” He believed any monorail on Bloor would be “an ugly roller coaster,” that it didn’t make sense for Toronto to build an elevated rail line when cities like Chicago and New York were tearing portions of theirs down, and that estimates that 60,000 passengers would be transported each hour were only possible if multiple lines were built. Metro Toronto Chairman Frederick Gardiner shared Lamport’s reservations, as transit consultants advised him to stay away from monorails—cars swayed in the wind, switching cars off line was time consuming, and promises of high speeds had never been realised. It also became clear that the $1 million per mile estimate only applied to building the tracks, not to costs like securing rights-of-way, demolitions, and building supporting structures like pillars.

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Editorial, the Telegram, May 1, 1958.

Singer and Tonks pushed ahead. They arranged to meet with Monorail Inc. president Murel Goodell at Singer’s downtown law office on May 3, 1958. This move outraged Gardiner and other councillors who felt the reeves lacked the authority to hold a meeting that seemed designed to stall the subway. As Singer and Tonks had “got us into a mess,” Gardiner insisted that the meeting be opened to other local bureaucrats. Tonks consulted his “respect for taxpayers” playbook and told the press that if Lamport didn’t show up, “it will be a slight on the endeavours of those trying to save the taxpayers from a huge expenditure.”

Around noon on May 2, Singer talked to Goodell on the phone and warned the Texas businessman to be ready for a fight. Goodell claimed he was a fighter. Four hours later, a telegram arrived from Goodell indicating that he wasn’t coming to Toronto. “We agreed to meet you in a small, informal session,” the wire read. “We are not ready for any official meeting without first a thorough investigation plus conferences with our experts and your local authorities on what Monorail can do in Toronto.”

So much for being a fighter.

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The Telegram, May 3, 1958.

Gardiner was furious. He called the cancelled meeting “the biggest municipal flop in years.” All of the daily newspapers had editorialized against monorails, with the severest attacks appearing in the Star. The paper believed Goodell chickened out when he was “unprepared to face a stiff quizzing by men who know their business” and regretted not seeing Gardiner and TTC officials tear into him.

The fiasco didn’t deter Singer, Tonks, and Etobicoke reeve H.O. Waffle from introducing a motion at the next Metro council meeting to “make immediate arrangements” for a study. As the Telegram put it, they seemed to have “one-track minds” which “refused to be thrown off the track.” To the reeves’ amazement, Metro council voted 9 to 8 on May 6, 1958 in favour of further study. Over the next month, pro- and anti-monorail supporters gathered their evidence for a June 17 meeting.

But the pro-monorail forces underestimated Frederick Gardiner. Unbeknownst to the rest of Metro council, Gardiner commissioned A.V. Roe’s Avro Aircraft division to study the use of monorails within Metro Toronto. Like the TTC, Avro felt monorails had no place in heavily built-up areas. Where they might work was in the suburbs, especially along CN’s rail line from Union Station to Malton Airport. Besides offering speedy service to passengers heading between the landmarks, such a line could also have provided commuter service between downtown, Weston, and Rexdale, and hooked into the subway system at Union and the proposed Dundas West stations. That such a line would also service Avro’s aircraft and engine plants in Malton could have only been coincidental. The report estimated construction would cost $76 million.

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Weston Times and Guide, May 8, 1958.

Several councillors were outraged, as Gardiner refused to let them see Avro’s report in the name of confidentiality. Despite censure for his actions, Gardiner emerged victorious when a motion for further study into monorail as public transit, which would have delayed a final subway approval vote by 60 days, was defeated 15 to 8. The Avro report was eventually released to council and the Bloor subway line got its go-ahead. While consideration was given to a Union-Malton monorail for a couple of months, the plan was rejected by the Metropolitan Toronto Planning Board that September. A direct rail link from downtown to the airport would remain at the dream stage for years to come. Monorails were envisioned for sites like Exhibition Place and the Toronto Islands, but the line that operated at the Toronto Zoo from 1976 to 1994 was the only one that made it off the drawing board.

Will Doug Ford’s dream of a waterfront monorail come true? The city’s history says don’t bet on it.

Additional material from the Avro Aircraft Limited Report on Monorail (Toronto: A.V. Roe, 1958) and the following newspapers: the April 29, 1958, April 30, 1958, May 3, 1958, May 6, 1958, and June 18, 1958 editions of the Globe and Mail; the April 29, 1958, April 30, 1958, May 1, 1958, and May 3, 1958 editions of the Toronto Star; and the May 3, 1958 edition of the Telegram.

UPDATE

Like other hare-brained ideas which emerged from either Ford brother, no waterfront monorail is on the horizon as of early 2018. Re-reading this piece, it’s interesting the note how Avro’s vision of a monorail service between Union Station and Malton sounds a little like the UP Express train (though they’re still working on a proper connection with Dundas West subway station).

New Year’s Eve, 1976

Originally published on Torontoist on December 30, 2014.

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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.

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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.”

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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.

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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.

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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.

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

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

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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.

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Toronto Star, December 14, 1973.

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

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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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.

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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.

O Eglinton Rapid Transit Service, Where Art Thou?

Originally published on Torontoist on May 7, 2010.

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A subway train heading to Warden station, 1968 (likely around the time the eastern extension of the Bloor-Danforth line from Woodbine to Warden opened). Photo by Eric Trussler. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 1567, Series 648, File 242, Item 7.

Public transit lines love leaving Eglinton Avenue at the altar. The courtship begins with a proposal to build a constructive relationship until a politician runs down the aisle to stop the wedding. The current controversy over whether the proposed Transit City LRT line along Eglinton will be delayed from its original target date, truncated, or built at all may sound like a broken record to longtime local-transit observers. Once upon a time, work started on an Eglinton subway line until it was axed by Mike Harris’s government in 1995. Among other proposals to build a service along Eglinton was one offered forty years ago that led a right-leaning daily to support the development of a “transit-oriented lifestyle” for Torontonians. The thoughts offered back then by the editors of the Telegram might be points to ponder for those now rushing to stop the ceremony.

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Buses at Eglinton terminal, 1967. Photo by Eric Trussler. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 1567, Series 648, File 218, Item 7.

October 1971 was a busy month for transit geeks. Ontario Premier William Davis unveiled grandiose plans for a series of never-realized pyramid-shaped residential and commercial complexes designed by Buckminster Fuller. They were to be constructed above a subway line in the “Spadina ditch” between Eglinton Avenue and Lawrence Avenue that was meant to house the cancelled Spadina Expressway. Over on Yonge Street, work delays on the northern extension of the subway from Eglinton to Sheppard mounted as labourers building the section around York Mills continued to strike when the contractor refused to provide an eighty-seven-cent-an-hour wage increase. Combined with community opposition, other labour issues, tunnelling errors, and indecisive management, the strike forced the TTC to reset the targeted completion date for the eighth time since work began in 1968 (the line opened in two stages during 1973 and 1974).

On October 25, North York council voted to ask the TTC to build its next rapid transit line on Eglinton Avenue instead of a proposed subway along Queen Street. Council also asked for feasibility studies into the use of railway lines for commuter services and into the possibility of providing an express bus service from the proposed Finch terminus of the Yonge subway extension to the airport. The chief selling point of an Eglinton line, at least to North York Controller Paul Godfrey, was that it would run through all six of the municipalities that made up Metropolitan Toronto.

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Headline of editorial, the Telegram, October 26, 1971.

The following day, the Telegram led off its editorial page with a piece about the Eglinton proposal, which it felt should be championed by Metro Council. That’s not to say that the Tely didn’t have some reservations:

We’re not impressed with Mr. Godfrey’s argument for an Eglinton subway on the grounds that Eglinton Ave. passes through every municipality of Metropolitan Toronto. It sounds too much like the kind of parochial politics that judges elected representatives by the number of public works they can win for their constituencies.

Subways and other transit facilities shouldn’t be located on any such basis. They should be planned to meet present and future need and to promote future growth in areas where it is most suitable and will be most beneficial.

Putting aside politics, the paper felt there was a strong case for building along Eglinton.

Eglinton Ave. is situated close to the centre line of Metropolitan Toronto. It has already been the focus for tremendous apartment and office building development both east and west of Yonge St. It will undoubtedly continue to attract more development in the centre and at both ends.

One rapid transit line, the Yonge St. subway, already crosses it. The projected Spadina line will, hopefully, soon do so. An Eglinton line could serve as a feeder from Scarbor[ough] and East York on the east and York and Etobicoke on the west to the Yonge and Spadina subways for transfers south to downtown or north to Yorkdale and Willowdale.

In its first stage, the Eglinton line should probably extend from Victoria Park Ave. on the east to at least Dufferin St. on the west. Plans should be made at the beginning, however, and right-of-right be acquired wherever possible for its eventual extension to the eastern boundary of Scarbor[ough] and to Highway 27 in Etobicoke.

As for the province’s role in building this line:

As part of its Toronto-Centred Regional Plan, the Ontario government intends to encourage development to the east of Metro Toronto. It can do this by heavily supporting the early extension of the Eglinton rapid transit line eastward to the Pickering boundary and eventually beyond it. Development follows transit and transit can be used as a useful tool to influence the direction and extent of development.

Recent projections give Metropolitan Toronto a population of 6 million by the year 2000. This figure can be questioned on many grounds and has been disputed by people who would limit growth of the city in favour of improving the quality of city life.

The two goals don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Good planning can accommodate controlled growth while improving the city environment. Good planning favours an Eglinton subway as a facility suited to the transit-oriented lifestyle that we hope will develop during the next two decades in Midtown Toronto of the future.

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An earlier map of the TTC’s vision for rapid transit in Metropolitan Toronto. Note that extensions to the two existing subway lines are the only confirmed projects. Notice any other projects that are echoed in Transit City? The Telegram, February 4, 1969.

Outside of North York, reaction from other Metro Toronto leaders was cool. TTC Chairman Ralph Day felt an Eglinton line had merit but it was too early to make any decisions. Toronto Mayor William Dennison preferred a line along Queen or King to service anticipated developments along the waterfront. In East York, Mayor True Davidson didn’t roll out the welcome wagon in an interview with the Star:

Sure it would be good for East York and other boroughs, but for Metro as a whole, it wouldn’t help. The Eglinton line wouldn’t do anything at all for the CNE or the planned Metro Centre on the waterfront, or anyone in the southeast areas…Giving priority to it is all based on the assumption that people will gravitate north, and I would be really surprised if this really happened.

We’re still waiting for an Eglinton line, True. We’re still waiting.

Additional material from the October 13, 1971, October 26, 1971, and October 27, 1971 editions of the Toronto Star, and the October 26, 1971 edition of the Telegram.

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

tely 71-10-26 editorial on eglinton subway

The full version of the Telegram‘s editorial from October 26, 1971.

As for the Eglinton LRT, construction began in 2011. Now dubbed the Eglinton Crosstown (or Line 5), service is expected to begin in 2021.

The War is Over

Originally published as a “Historicist” column on Torontoist on November 12, 2011.

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Family reads Armistice Day headlines, November 11, 1918. Pictured left to right: Mrs. J. Fraser, Jos. Fraser Jr., Miss Ethel James, Frank James, and Norman James. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 1244, Item 892.

2:50 a.m., November 11, 1918, the office of the Telegram newspaper on Melinda Street. An early morning full of anticipation as workers there and at Toronto’s five other daily newspapers waited for word sometime during the day that an armistice ending the First World War would be signed.

The news during the night had indicated that nothing was expected to happen till this morning. But there was not let up in the eternal vigilance that is the price of efficiency. Jimmie Nicol, the Canadian Press operator, was eating his lunch and joining in the desultory conversation with one ear turned to the key. He had heard the declaration of war flashed into the office and had waited four years and three months to hear this click of the instrument that would tell that the slaughter had ceased. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of a bite and jumped to the wire. Then that crowd of weary waiters came to life as it electrified. Each man knew his work and did it.

Within 20 minutes of the wire notice, special editions of the Telegram and the other papers hit the streets of the city, ready for citizens roused from their slumber by church bells, fire sirens, factory whistles and other loud noisemakers. The war was over and, as the News noted, “Toronto went mad with glory.”

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The News, November 11, 1918.

The city needed to let loose after a recent spell of bad news. The influenza pandemic that ravaged the world hit Toronto hard in October 1918. Companies like Bell Telephone lost up to a quarter of their staff due to illness or care giving. Churches, entertainment facilities, libraries, and schools were closed, public gatherings were curtailed, and visitors were not allowed in hospitals. During the pandemic’s peak in mid-October, an average of 50 people a day succumbed to the flu, which ultimately killed around 1,300 Torontonians that month. Combine this with daily reports of the mounting casualties during the final month of battle in Europe and it’s easy to see how Toronto was ready to party.

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The Telegram, November 12, 1918.

News of the armistice spread quickly throughout the city. In the east end, residents along Bain Avenue were awakened around 3:40 a.m. by a trumpeter. Half-a-dozen windows opened and an equal number of heads stuck out, asking each other what was going on. “The armistice is signed,” somebody shouted. “The war is over—no fake this time!” Within 10 minutes, most homes in South Riverdale were lit up and pyjama-clad neighbours congratulated each other on the good news. By 4 a.m., as the News reported, “the streets, as a rule deserted and silent at the hour of coming dawn, were filled with quick-marshalled companies of girls and boys, all marching with waving flags and all equipped for carnival.” Traffic jams of cars formed as some revellers decided to head downtown.

The Telegram sent a car around the city to survey how celebrations were breaking out. Everywhere they found scenes similar to those in South Riverdale: people on the streets dancing, singing, playing musical instruments, clanging tin cans, and gathering in their nightclothes and raincoats around impromptu sidewalk bonfires. Streetcars were so packed that passengers sat on the roof.

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Streetcar on Spadina Crescent, November 11, 1918. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 1244, Item 7110.

By dawn, streetcar service, apart from a few suburban routes, ground to a halt as conductors and operators abandoned their vehicles to join the festivities. Any driver who attempted to continue to head into the city was met with opposition by their fellow employees, as one determined Queen streetcar operator learned. Shortly after setting out on an eastbound course from Roncesvalles, he encountered a procession of 100 fellow Toronto Railway Company workers led by a Highland piper. When he failed to stop, the procession pulled off the streetcar’s pole and smashed its windows. Without streetcars, people wishing to head downtown jumped onto any automobile—the Telegram reported seeing as many as 28 people sitting in and hanging off one car.

Work was hardly on anyone’s mind that day. Few went to the office, and those who did didn’t stay long. City workers were told to take the day off. Bankers were obliged to stay on the job, but the only ticker tape flowing out of most financial institutions headed out windows onto the streets below. Courts were in session, but Police Magistrate Rupert Kingsford gave clemency to anyone up on charges of drunkenness, gambling, speeding, or other minor offences. “This is not a day for punishment,” Kingsford told those assembled in police court. “It is a day for amnesty and pardon.”

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Girl celebrating Armistice Day, November 11, 1918. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 1244, Item 905.

Out in the streets, a carnival atmosphere prevailed. People draped in Red Ensigns, Union Jacks, and other Allied flags were among those who descended by the thousands onto Yonge Street and other crowded downtown arteries. Some descriptions paint a scene similar to Church Street on Halloween with revellers, in the words of the Mail and Empire, “bedecked themselves in the most grotesque costumes with false and painted faces.” One person dressed as the recently-abdicated German emperor wore a sign which read “I am the Kaiser, kick me.” Knowing people might deliver four years of pent-up frustration against him, the man padded his posterior to soften any swift kicks. Hopefully he wasn’t mistaken for the numerous effigies of the Kaiser burned with glee across the city.

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Armistice Day, November 11, 1918. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 1244, Item 891.

Celebrants along Yonge Street between Shuter and King found themselves in a war zone. The Mail and Empire reported that “for several hours the main thoroughfare presented the appearance of a region that had been subjected to a gas attack, because of the battle of talcum powder by the boys and girls who waged it with little relaxation.” Anyone who objected to being doused in powder was, with the approval of bystanders, showered with a double dose. Despite a few people who were hit square in the eye, people were generally amused by the battle or rolled with it. They had little choice—according to the News: “the crowds were so dense that escape was impossible, and the victims soon purchased and used supplies of their own.” Police directing traffic took the powder showers in stride, even if they “looked more like millers than officers of the law.”

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Float representing “In Flanders Field” at Victory Loan Parade, November 11, 1918. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 1583, Item 161.

Officially sanctioned ceremonies began at noon on the steps of City Hall (now Old City Hall), where Mayor Tommy Church issued a proclamation. Following that was a previously scheduled Victory Loan parade that became a general celebration. Over 200,000 lined the route along University, Queen, Simcoe, King, Jarvis, Carlton, and College to watch the procession of soldiers and bond-promoting floats. Wounded hospital patients were chauffeured in automobiles. Airplanes dropped pamphlets urging spectators to “lend” to the loan drive. Music was provided by groups ranging from ragtag marching bands to the United States Navy Band led by, in possibly his only personal appearance in Toronto, John Philip Sousa. Of the floats, the most poignant was a tribute to the poem “In Flanders Fields.” The women’s page of the News described the scene portrayed: “There was the grass of the fields, the vivid scarlet poppies and the charred crosses of the men who had fallen. A man in khaki standing looking down at the crosses carried out the picture in its last detail.” When the parade returned to its starting point at Queen’s Park, it was followed by a religious service.

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John Philip Sousa, University Avenue, November 11, 1918. City of Toronto Archives, Fonds 1244, Item 2576.

The partying continued well into the night. Sousa conducted a concert at Queen’s Park. Dances were held at the King Edward Hotel and other venues across the city. Bonfires burned on, including a large one fuelled by old wagons across from the Albert Britnell bookstore at Yonge and Bloor. A parade through Chinatown (then centred around Dundas and Elizabeth) saw a truck carrying smiling deities wielding gongs. The Star, then based on King Street, ran movies and bulletins on the side of a neighbouring building. Amid the jovial spirit, the News noted that some members of the crowd remembered the costs of the battle just ended: “Mingling with the wild abandon of youthful rejoicing was the note of sadness among those who recalled all too vividly the poignant sacrifice of war, and here and there in the swirling, gleeful crowds were lonely individuals who looked at the people but saw a grave in Flanders.”

The next day, tired Torontonians dragged themselves back to work and settled back into routine. The city estimated clean-up would cost $1,000. Little damage was done, and few arrests were made during the celebrations (it seemed even pickpockets had taken the day off). As the week unfolded, the Victory Loan drive wrapped up and the first postwar contingents of veterans returned home. The uncertainties of what peacetime would hold were pushed aside as the afterglow of the armistice celebrations lingered on.

Additional material from Our Glory and Our Grief: Torontonians and the Great War by Ian Hugh Maclean Miller (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002) and the following newspapers: the November 12, 1918 edition of the Globe; the November 12, 1918 edition of the Mail and Empire; the November 11, 1918 and November 12, 1918 editions of the News; the November 12, 1918 edition of the Toronto Star; and the November 11, 1918 edition of the Telegram.

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

This subject was also covered in an earlier installment of Vintage Toronto Ads, originally published on November 11, 2008.

Vintage Ad #653: Armistice Day, 1918

The Globe, November 11, 1918.

November 11, 1918: eager Torontonians, having seen several days of stories in the local dailies that the end of World War I was imminent, waited for word from Europe of the armistice that would bring loved ones home. The newspapers stayed close to their wires to put the presses into motion once the armistice was official. The Telegram described the wait:

The news during the night had indicated that nothing was expected to happen till this morning. But there was not let up in the eternal vigilance that is the price of efficiency. Jimmie Nicol, the Canadian Press operator, was eating his lunch and joining in the desultory conversation with one ear turned to the key. He had heard the declaration of war flashed into the office and had waited four years and three months to hear this click of the instrument that would tell that the slaughter had ceased. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of a bite and jumped to the wire. Then that crowd of weary waiters came to life as it electrified. Each man knew his work and did it.

Nicol received the wire at 2:50 a.m. The first edition of the Telegram hit the streets 20 minutes later. The paper used their speediness to take a potshot at the Star, who, “first in fake but last in reliability, put in a tardy appearance with the same news, accompanied by the morning papers.” Eaton’s used their regular advertising space to publish the official announcement and a blessing.

Vintage Ad #657: Drink to the Health of the Allies!

Toronto Star, November 11, 1918.

O’Keefe’s ad may have appealed to one group who welcomed the armistice, local drunks. The Telegram reported that inebriates around the city were “happy as larks” that not only was the war over, but that the city magistrate had declared a one-day amnesty on charges of public drunkenness, gambling, speeding, and other minor offences. The magistrate’s explanation for his actions? “We are doing it for our country.”

Vintage Ad #655: My Boy

Toronto Star, November 11, 1918.

Though the war was over, ads for Victory Bonds were published that day. Pitches soon switched from helping Canadians fight on to aiding returning soldiers and the citizens of countries devastated by the conflict. The city declared a half-day holiday for a bond drive, which quickly turned into a general celebration.

Additional material from the November 11, 1918 edition of the Telegram.

Vintage Toronto Ads: Take the TTC Test

Originally published on Torontoist on December 15, 2009.

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Toronto Sun, December 14, 1979.

How well do your savings stack up compared to a commuter from thirty years ago? Get out your calculators!

The TTC spent the first half of December 1979 preparing recommendations for presentation to Metro Toronto council the following month. Among the proposals were a freeze on transit fares for a year (thanks in part to an unexpected five-million-dollar revenue surplus) and the creation of a twenty-six-dollar monthly pass. A report devised by a joint committee of TTC and Metro Toronto officials (Transit in the 1980s: A New Direction) was presented to the commission and included recommendations for reserved bus lanes on Bay Street, Dufferin Street, Lansdowne Avenue, Victoria Park Avenue, and York Mills Road, along with the elimination of car traffic on downtown sections of King and Queen streets.

In other matters, the TTC scored a victory when it obtained a building permit to finish work on Kennedy subway station after a battle with civic officials in Scarborough over perceived weaknesses in fire safety standards. The news wasn’t so bright after a heavy snowfall on December 19 forced the grounding of three new CLRV streetcars. Chief General Manager Michael Warren partly blamed poor quality control by the manufacturer when the streetcars short circuited and started to smoke during the storm. Oops.

Additional material from the December 6, 1979, December 13, 1979, and December 20, 1979 editions of the Toronto Star.

Scenes of Toronto: Winter 2009

You Can’t Please All of the Riders All of the Time

Originally published on Torontoist on January 2, 2009.

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Our transit planners try. They really try.

System-wide service improvements unveiled by the TTC in November included extended hours and the addition of bicycle racks to many routes. While this was good news to many passengers, as with most things in life there are users who feel their needs were glossed over.

Hence the frustrations poured out onto an innocent service improvement bulletin posted on the Davisville bus platform by at least two disgruntled passengers unhappy with the current state of the 11 Bayview route. Never mind that their pleas and grousing are unleashed on a rush hour service that doesn’t pass by the neighbourhood’s largest health facility.

Perhaps the first passenger has a phobia about going to Lawrence station to use its frequent Sunnybrook service?

Sacrilegious Parking

Originally published on Torontoist on January 15, 2009.

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According to its website, Mount Pleasant Road Baptist Church promises to share with its parishioners, via John 10:10, “a delight that God is in the business of bringing order, beauty and joy to people who have suffered from the chaos of this world.” Joy, or at least a mischievous sense of humour, is evident on a sign hanging on the Belsize Drive side of the church, where officials could have placed a standard “no parking” sign.

We have not received official word from the gatekeepers to the afterlife on how many souls have been condemned to eternal wandering on the basis of poor parking decisions.

A Recession Lesson

Originally published on Torontoist on January 29, 2009.

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The current economic situation has not been kind to American retailers. With sales sinking and several wobbly chains going the liquidation route, the U.S. retail landscape might not be the best model to emulate at the moment.

This brings us to Yankee Stuff, a store proudly displaying the red, white, and blue (and several small Canadian flags) on Bloor Street in Korea Town. While walking by the star-spangled storefront in December, we noticed a sign in the window for a sale honouring the state of the economy south of the border. Since it was billed as an ongoing offer we assumed that, based on reading the work of several economic pundits, this sale would last for at least a year or two.

And how has the recession sale gone?

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We returned after Christmas to find that, based on the wrapping paper covering the display window, the recession had claimed another victim.
The lesson? Be careful of naming your sale after an economic event, as said event may come back to bite you.

Parking in a Time Warp

Originally published on Torontoist on March 12, 2009.

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The temporarily closed performing arts venue at the southeast corner of Yonge and Front has undergone a number of name changes since opening more than half a century ago. Which identity do you prefer—O’Keefe, Hummingbird, or Sony? We can take a pretty good guess at which one the Toronto Parking Authority likes the most, based on signage found at the Yonge Street end of the massive Green P structure on the south side of The Esplanade.

We’re not sure when this sign was erected, but it would have been correct between the opening of the Hockey Hall of Fame’s current location in 1993 and the name switch from O’Keefe to Hummingbird in 1996. Is this relic an oversight or does this reveal a gut feeling by parking officials that no one would ever adjust to any name change?

UPDATE: As of 2017, this parking lot will still direct you to the O’Keefe Centre.