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.

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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.

Vintage Toronto Ads: Just Dial GO

Originally published on Torontoist on March 4, 2008.

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The North Toronto Herald, March 22, 1974.

Congratulations. You’ve just moved into a home or apartment in the rapidly growing city of North York to start your bright future. You either don’t own a car or prefer to use one as little as possible. Fixed public transit services haven’t quite made it out to your neck of the woods yet you really want to be chauffeured by a bow-tie wearing driver with a creepy smile who will drop you off at your doorstep.

For a brief period in the mid-1970s, GO Transit and the TTC combined to provide a fleet of minibuses to come to your rescue. GO launched the first Dial-a-Bus pilot in Pickering Township in the summer of 1970, which ran for three years. The service was introduced to Metropolitan Toronto in October 1973, when three zones were launched in partnership with the TTC along either side of York Mills Road between Yonge and Leslie. Accessibility came at a premium compared to bus fares of the time (40 cents versus 30), with no transfers between Dial-a-Bus and regular TTC bus stops.

The experiment barely had time to prove itself. Service expansions to Armour Heights and Downsview lasted less than a year, while the York Mills service fizzled out in 1976. The stereotypical image of a user may have been a problem, as residents complained that only “maids” would provide the bulk of the ridership for proposed permanent TTC routes in the York Mills zones.

Vintage Toronto Ads: Hockey Night in the 1930s

Originally published on Torontoist on January 15, 2008.

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Toronto Star, December 3, 1937 (left), December 6, 1937 (right).

The rumour mill is swirling around the Maple Leafs this week, as a less-than-stellar season and mixed signals from club ownership lead to daily reports about the fate of the team’s management and captain. With all signs pointing to a third straight early vacation at season’s end, the team’s followers are steamed.

Fans 70 years ago may also have been frustrated with the club, though in their case the problem was a team that usually reached the Stanley Cup finals but couldn’t quite win Lord Stanley’s silverware. At least if the team lost, the TTC was there to offer a cheerful bow before a warm trip home.

Under the stewardship of coach Dick Irvin, the 1937/38 edition of the Leafs finished first in the Canadian Division, eight points ahead of the New York Americans. The NHL would drop its divisional structure after the season, when its active membership fell to seven teams after the Montreal Maroons suspended operations (the franchise initially asked for a year off, tried to relocate to St. Louis and officially folded after the 1938/39 season). The existence of the Maroons explains why the Montreal Canadiens are billed by their nickname in today’s ad, as other period game notices indicated the city the Leafs were up against.

The game in question resulted in a 3-3 tie, highlighted by a stick-swinging fight initiated by future Habs coach Toe Blake. The Toronto Daily Star’s headline two days later read “Leafs Draw With Canucks But Lose to Tough Mick.”

The major hiccup during the season was the loss of captain Charlie Conacher in November, due to a dislocated shoulder. Doctors urged Conacher to retire—he sat out the rest of the season, but would return to action with the Red Wings the following year. Leading scorers for the Leafs, and the league, were right winger Gordie Drillon (26 goals, 52 points) and center Syl Apps (21 goals, 50 points).

TTC conductors would have had a busy playoff season, as the Leafs fought their way past the league-leading Boston Bruins into the Stanley Cup finals. Transit authorities didn’t have to worry about a mass victory celebration as the Leafs lost the Cup on the road to the Chicago Black Hawks, a team that still holds the record for the lowest regular season winning percentage by a Cup holder (14 wins, 25 losses, 9 ties). The Leafs may have tempted the fates by rejecting calls for goaltending assistance by Chicago after Mike Karakas suffered a broken toe—legend has it that the Black Hawks approached veteran minor leaguer Alfie Moore while he was drinking in a Toronto bar. It was the fourth time the Leafs had gone down in the Cup finals since their last championship in 1932 and they would lose twice more before hoisting the Cup in 1942.