5 OF TORONTO'S BEST OLD MOVIE THEATRES

Ghosts of Toronto's Past | Rebecca Barrett 

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In the past month, the big news in Toronto’s local heritage scene has been that the iconic Scotiabank Theatre will likely get demolished in the coming years to make room for RioCan’s new developments. The dramatic social media response to this news has really gotten me thinking about the larger presence that movie theatres have in our city’s cultural landscape.

Just as movie theatres can represent everything modern and fast-paced about a city – all the newest and most impressive 3D and IMAX technology, come to life in front of our very eyes – old movie theatres can remind us of a slower-paced, simpler, and more charming vision of a city. They harken back to a time when marquee signs were updated by kids on ladders and when going to the movies was a special occasion to get dressed up for. The movie theatres on this list have all stood the test of time and contain more charm and character in a single marquee letter than the Scotiabank Theatre has in all its giant Rubik’s Cube, broken-escalator glory. So, even though we can (and should) acknowledge the inevitable change that the demolition of the Scotiabank Theatre will cause to Toronto, hopefully this list can also remind us that there are still other, more interesting and iconic, places for us to eat popcorn in the dark with strangers.

1. Fox Theatre (2236 Queen St. E)

The old marquee sign is one of the most endearing qualities of the Fox. Source. 

Located in the Beaches at the intersection of Queen St. and Beech Ave., this theatre has been around since 1914 – making it the second oldest movie theatre in Toronto, after the Revue Theatre. It has only one screen and shows a mix of independent and foreign films, old classics, and second-run movies that have already left the bigger chain theatres.

It underwent extensive renovation in 2007, which focused on restoring the theatre’s 1930’s décor. The restoration saw the addition of an old-fashioned popcorn machine, a chalkboard menu, and a reupholstered smoking wall. If you’re looking to take a step back in time, Fox Theatre won’t disappoint.

2. Humber Cinemas (2442 Bloor St. W)

Humber Cinema’s simple and bare façade, redeemed only slightly by the tree out front. Source.

Humber Cinemas is located in Bloor West Village, at the corner of Bloor St. and Jane St., and was originally one of five Toronto Odeon Cinemas. The Odeon Danforth is now a fitness centre and the other three Odeons have since been demolished – meaning that the Humber location is the only one left. It closed in 2003 and sat abandoned for six years, but in 2009 new ownership took over, renovating and rebranding it.

The reopening has been a success, but there is concern among the community that Plazacorp, the sites owner, is planning to tear down the theatre to build condominiums. The neighborhood’s local city councillor has been in dialogue with Plazacorp to incorporate the cinema within the condominium’s designs. Visit before it’s too late!

3. Hot Docs Ted Rogers Cinema (506 Bloor St. W)

The front of the Bloor Hot Docs Cinema. Being the main location for Hot Docs, it’s not unusual to see lines of festival-goers crowding the theatre and trailing down Bloor. Source.

Located in the Annex at Bloor St. and Bathurst St., the Hot Docs Ted Rogers Cinema first opened in 1913. It was demolished and rebuilt in 1940, getting renamed multiple times over the years – first it was the Midtown Theatre, then the Capri, then the Eden, and then the Bloor. Eventually is was sold to the Blue Ice Group in 2011, who currently manage the theatre in partnership with Hot Docs Canadian International Documentary Festival.

This theatre is most known for, among other things, its history of screening The Rocky Horror Picture Show with a live cast on Halloween and on the last Friday of every month.

4. Revue Cinema (400 Roncesvalles Ave.)

The Revue’s iconic art-deco signs and marquee, still standing 107 years later. Source.

The Revue was built at the intersection of Dundas St. W and Roncesvalles Ave., in the middle of Roncesvalles, between 1911 and 1912. It is a designated Toronto heritage site and the city’s oldest standing movie theatre for showing movies. It also holds the record for the oldest continuously running movie theatre in Ontario, showing movies continuously from its creation to 2006 (almost a hundred years!). There had been plans for the Revue’s demolition in 2006, but a large community grass-roots movement saved the theatre. It reopened shortly after in 2007, with a screening of Some Like it Hot.

Nowadays, the Revue plays select blockbusters, indie films, and hosts arts and culture events.

5. Regent Theatre (551 Mount Pleasant Rd.)

The Regent Theatre, complete with its old-fashioned green and yellow sign. Source.

The Regent Theatre first opened in 1927 as The Belsize Theatre. Located at Mount Pleasant Rd. and Davisville Ave. in Midtown Toronto, it was built to be very opulent and impressive – including decorative arches, ornate plaster trim, and small Venetian-style box seats in the auditorium. Beginning in 1953, the theater stopped screening movies and instead showed live stage performances of Canadian theatre. But in 1988, it was renovated and reopened as The Regent Theatre and began screening movies once again.

Now it screens a mix of Hollywood releases and independent arthouse films.


These movie theatres are charming and simple, and though they probably won’t be showing the latest Marvel movie in IMAX anytime soon, they represent the heart and history of Toronto in a way that the Scotiabank Theatre never can.

I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD

Ghosts of Toronto's Past | Rebecca Barrett

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Considering all the incredible architecture and public art that exists everywhere in Toronto, the CN Tower is, by comparison, a huge eyesore. Made out of industrial concrete, it looms above the city like a wartime bunker. But, being the most widely recognizable symbol for Toronto, it’s a popular destination for tourists. Locals, on the other hand, wouldn’t be caught dead there – I don’t know anyone from Toronto whose idea of a fun time or a good night is heading on over to the CN Tower for ridiculously expensive drinks. There are expensive bars with huge covers all over the city but, for whatever reason, the CN Tower just doesn’t have the same allure for locals.

I’ve been thinking about the role of the CN Tower in Toronto. It seems strange that the most iconic symbol of a city is something that appeals to tourists but that locals tend to at worst abhor, and at best ignore. Thus, I want to dedicate this column to the CN Tower and, more interestingly, the view from the top.

The westward facing view of Toronto from the top of the CN Tower. Source. 

This definitely isn’t a unique phenomenon to Toronto. There are tall buildings serving as tourist destinations in cities all over the world – Seattle’s Space Needle, New York’s Empire State Building, Dubai’s Burj Khalifa, Berlin’s TV Tower, Hong Kong’s International Commerce Center, Paris’ Eiffel Tower, the list goes on and on. But there are distinctions to be made within this list. Some of these tall buildings are, first and foremost, historical – like the Eiffel Tower or the Arc du Triomphe. It makes intuitive sense for these to be tourist destinations more than local attractions because they represent the history of a city. For example, Napoleonic buffs around the world would naturally be drawn to the Arc du Triomphe because it played a role in Napoleonic France.

Comparing The CN Tower to other tall buildings that also serve as tourist destinations around the world. Top (L to R): The Eiffel Tower (Source), Burj Khalifa (Source), The Space Needle (Source), The Empire State Building (Source). Bottom (L to R): The CN Tower (Source), Eureka Tower (Source), International Commerce Center (Source), TV Tower (Source).

But let’s consider the trickier cases – the cases of buildings that don’t serve any real historical value (at least not to the majority of tourists that visit them). This is where I believe the CN Tower fits in. While the CN Tower does have a history, which I’m sure appeals to some people, it is not necessarily symbolic purely because of that history. Rather, it seems to be symbolic to Toronto simply because it is tall.

Thus, the question becomes: why are tourists so attracted to climbing to the top of tall buildings? Why is it a cliché to eat lunch or get drinks beside a rooftop view of Toronto, or Berlin, or Dubai? Even more unclear: why are the observation decks of tall buildings so often considered romantic? In An Affair to Remember, when planning to reunite with her lover Carry Grant in six months’ time on the top of the Empire State Building, Deborah Kerr says “it’s the nearest thing to heaven we have in New York.” Maybe she’s right, but if that’s the case, then why do the locals of any one city tend not to want to partake in such a romantic and heavenly experience too?

Carry Grant and Deborah Kerr in An Affair to Remember. The Empire State Building is behind Kerr! Source.

The only possible answer I can come up with is that there is something appealing in the bird's-eye view that tall buildings offer. The CN Tower offers a different perspective, a wider perspective, where one can seemingly observe everything about Toronto at once. When a city is so infinitely complex and mysterious that no amount of vacation time seems like enough, maybe taking in the view from an observation deck allows tourists to feel like they are experiencing more of the city than they really are. From the top of the CN Tower’s observation deck, you can see streets, buildings, lights, parks – seemingly everything the city has to offer in one instantaneous glimpse. This is certainly more immediate exposure to the city than would be possible from simply trekking around on the ground. In fact, this could also explain why locals aren’t typically interested in climbing to the top of tall buildings in their own city just for the sake of a bird's-eye view – they already have a more detailed and nuanced experience of the city, and don’t feel like they need the extra orientation. In other words: they already know their way around. (That, and the fact that the CN Tower is located in a rather unappealing and boring section of the downtown core.)

A southward facing bird's-eye view of downtown Toronto, including the CN Tower, City Hall, and the Eaton Centre. Source.

Bird's-eye views can be cathartic and humbling. They can put our everyday worries in perspective and remind us that there is so much more to the world, and to our city, than what we experience from our home on the ground. The CN Tower is a source of wonder for many people, not because of its architecture or historical significance, but purely because it reminds us how small we all really are.

Time-lapse of the CN Tower lit up at night during Pride Week -- sometimes it's pretty. Source.

THE COFFEE TIME LORE OF DUPONT & LANSDOWNE

Ghosts of Toronto's Past | Rebecca Barrett

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In my Weird Heritage article last fall, I had initially wanted to include the Coffee Time located at the corner of Dupont and Lansdowne. But the more people I talked to and the more research I did, the more I realized that it was part of a larger and more complex evolution happening in the Dupont corridor right now. This article is my response to that evolution: it is a dedicated look at the lore of Coffee Time and its sad demise as the result of gentrification.

Around the turn of the 20th century, Dupont Street (especially around Davenport) was one of Toronto’s primary manufacturing districts. There were factories, mills, and warehouses such as the Ford factory and showroom, and the Toronto Evening Telegram office. But in the 70s and 80s, zoning restrictions and pollution required many of these factories to close their doors. Most of the residents moved out to the suburbs and the area remained largely industrial and low-income.

One of the numerous empty and deserted warehouses on Dupont. Source.

At the northeast corner of Dupont and Lansdowne, there used to be a Coffee Time. Simply put, this Coffee Time is the stuff of legend. Pure Toronto legend. Because the area is notorious for crime and poorly policed, the Coffee Time had become known as a huge hub for prostitution and drugs. But, more than that, it served as a gathering place and community hub in the neighbourhood, even providing a public-access computer for patrons who may not have had access to one at home. Without passing judgment on the activities conducted on its premises, the Coffee Time was a landmark in Toronto and had a prominent presence in the lives of thousands of people in the neighbourhood. A Canadian rapper, D-Sisive, even wrote a song called Coffee Time at Dupont & Lansdowne, referring to Coffee Time as “a donut decorated crack house.” So…there’s that.

In 2018, the Coffee Time was sold to condominium developers and closed its doors permanently (although, weirdly, I think it continues to operate as an independent coffee and muffin shop, on a month-by-month basis). This news was received with both glee and sorrow – some thought it was sad to say goodbye to such a long-standing Toronto landmark, others thought it was good because the neighbourhood would become safer. In any case, the drama didn’t stop there.

A photo showing the proximity of the Coffee Time to the offending Food Basics. Source.

At this point, condominiums had already been slowing rising along Dupont, changing the landscape to attract young families and yuppies. One such condominium development was located on Lansdowne across from the Coffee Time. It had initially planned to build a new Metro grocery store for the community, but decided to open a Food Basics instead, Metro’s discount chain. This was probably to cater to the large low-income demographic still living in the area, but this decision was met with absolute and unadulterated mass hysteria. The condo residents started a public petition to replace the Food Basics with the Metro they had been promised. Eventually, the outcry became so absurd that the Beaverton weighed in. The push towards exclusionary gentrification was intense, but as far as I can tell, Food Basics still stands today.

In the past few years, there has also been a surge of independent art galleries moving up to Dupont, and an increased interest in turning the old abandoned warehouses into loft and co-op arts spaces (where before they had been common resting places for squatters). With news headlines such as “Is Dupont the Next Ossington?” and “Is Dupont the Next Liberty Village?”, it seems like it was somewhat inevitable that Coffee Time would be sold to build condos. Nonetheless, it served its community well and resisted gentrification as long as it could. Long-standing landmarks like Coffee Time – which affect everyone’s lives, both positively and negatively – contribute to the culture of a community and define it both from within and outside. As a result, all the new developments and changes happening along the Dupont corridor constitute a definite change in the community’s identity and spirit. Maybe it’s a good change, maybe it’s a bad change -- that depends on who you ask. But either way, it deserves our commemoration.

RIP Coffee Time, ?? -- 2018. Source.

DEPARTMENT STORE SANTAS: A GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST

Ghosts of Toronto's Past | Rebecca Barrett

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The Eaton Centre is a pivotal landmark in Toronto. Right next to City Hall, connected directly to the TTC, and touching four major intersections, it’s pretty much impossible to avoid. I’ve known for a while that for this article, my last one before the holidays, I wanted to look at some of Toronto’s classic Christmas traditions. What I didn’t expect was that my research would repeatedly lead me back to the Eaton Centre.

Some of the Eaton Centre's holiday light displays. Photo courtesy of Rebecca Barrett.

Nowadays, the Eaton Centre’s most well-known Christmas tradition is probably their huge light displays in the shape of reindeers and Christmas trees that stand almost two stories high within the mall. But what I didn’t know, is that the Eaton Centre is responsible for so much more holiday cheer than just that – in fact, it started some of Toronto’s most renowned and long-lasting Christmas traditions!

Setting the scene: a postcard of Eaton's Old Storefront circa 1923. Source.

The Santa Claus Parade, in its current format, starts at Christie Pitts Park and ends at the St. Lawrence Market. But, when it initially began in 1905, the parade simply consisted of Santa Claus arriving at Union Station by train and walking up Bay Street with the Eaton family to the Eaton Centre, where he would hold court and meet all the kids. There were no floats, no band, and no crowds – the parade was essentially just a security escort to the Eaton Centre for Santa.

After a few years, this annual walk began drawing crowds of young children, who came out to cheer for Santa and (according to reports) throw snowballs at him. In 1913, the route changed to accommodate the growing crowds and the Eaton family introduced a sleigh and 8 live reindeer, specially brought in from Labrador, to pull Santa. This time, Santa paraded 30 miles down Yonge Street, ending at Massey Hall for a concert and a party (and who wouldn’t want to party with Santa?).

Santa Claus partying on his float in the middle of a huge crowd circa 1918. Source.

Around the time of the First World War, the parade began to develop its modern and familiar format. By 1917 there were 7 parade floats – most of which were storybook and nursery rhyme characters – and every year it would grow. By 1930, Eaton's Santa Claus Parade was aired on national radio, and by 1952, it was broadcast on CBC as the largest Santa Claus parade in North America. And to think: all of this fame and prominence because the Eatons had to pick up their department store Santa at the train station, 50 years earlier.

The famous Mother Goose parade float circa 1930, which was the longest continual float in service (featured in the parade annually from 1930-1960, each time painted a different colour). Source.

But the Santa Clause Parade isn’t the only Christmas tradition that the Eaton Centre introduced to Toronto. Since the beginning of the 20th century, there was an intense rivalry between Eaton’s and another Canadian department store, Simpsons. This rivalry resulted in a kind of “Christmas arms race” between the two stores. Each tried to design more and more elaborate and enticing holiday display windows as a way to outcompete one another and draw children (and, by extension, their families) into their stores. These displays would feature music, automatons, and mechanics all staged in a whimsical children's-themed diorama.

Children running over to look at Eaton's window display. No date. Crown Copyright. Source. 

Children peering in at Eaton's window display circa 1953. Crown Copyright. Source.

Eaton's window display of Santa's workshop circa 1958. Crown Copyright. Source.

These display windows became an iconic symbol for the city that the holidays were coming – and even today, Hudson’s Bay (which bought out Simpsons) continues to celebrate the unveiling of its own holiday windows in the Eaton Centre. By now, the Bay’s window unveilings have become a huge production with free concerts at Queen and Yonge and celebrity appearances. Of course, over a hundred years later, the display windows look a little different:

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These windows tho... 😍📸🎄 #hudsonsbay

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In hindsight, I probably should have suspected that many of Toronto’s Christmas traditions began with department stores (like the Eaton Centre) and the rabid commercialism and consumerism therein. It might seem like an unromantic common origin for these traditions, but I think there’s still some magic floating around the city at this time of year. These traditions are still important because they are ingrained into the city’s fabric and they get us excited for the holiday season.


Happy Holidays!

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WEIRD HERITAGE: 6 OF TORONTO'S QUIRKIEST LANDMARKS

Ghosts of Toronto's Past | Rebecca Barrett

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Toronto is a weird and wonderful place. All over the city, there are unsuspecting nooks and crevices hiding unusual cultural landmarks. Taken together, these everyday instances of random weirdness create a lesser-known portrait of the city’s cultural heritage. Here are 6 of my favourites – some are weird because of their history, others are weird because of their appearance. Either way, they’re worth checking out.

1. “Hooker Harvey’s”: Gerrard/Jarvis

"Hooker Harvey's" in all its glory. Source.

This fast-food joint at Jarvis and Gerrard has long had the reputation of being a popular hub for sex workers. Although the neighbourhood has largely lost its grittiness since then, “Hooker Harvey’s” is still hailed as a cultural institution. In winter of 2017, plans for a new condo development that would demolish the restaurant were released, and there was a public outcry on social media in its defense. For now, “Hooker Harvey’s” appears to be safe.

2. Leslieville doll house: 37 Bertmount Ave

I wonder what the neighbours think? Source.

For over twenty years, Shirley Sumaiser has been collecting children’s toys and decorating her Leslieville house with them. There are dolls – old and new – stuffed animals, plaques, signs, mermaids, and M&M men. It’s undeniably kitschy and possibly terrifying, but it’s also earned her house landmark status among many Torontonians. (If you wait until it’s a little closer to the holidays, the dolls will all be decorated for Christmas!)

3. Club Paradise: 1313 Bloor St W

A difficult choice being made. Photo courtesy of Serruh Sparkles.

Just west of Bloor and Lansdowne, this strip club’s main claim to fame is its namesake song, “Club Paradise”, by Drake. That’s right – this is the club where Drake apparently “knows them strippers by their real names”. But its second weirdest claim to fame is that it's located right beside (indeed physically attached to) the Bloor Lansdowne Christian Fellowship. It’s one building with two tickets to paradise – a veritable one stop shop for all your sin and redemption needs.

4. Greek House: 1016 Shaw St

The Parashos house making a statement. Source.

There are tons of eccentric houses in Toronto’s west end, but this one is my favourite. The owners constructed it in homage to their Greek heritage and took inspiration for the design from Hellenistic Greece. The cherubs on the roof are the best part.

5. Rotary Phone: 1200 Bloor St W

"No Outgoing Calls...If I'm Ringing, Answer Me!" Photo courtesy of Hunter Molnar.

Earlier this year, Rob Kittredge, owner of the storefront at 1200 Bloor St W, installed a rotary phone that he found in a friend’s basement outside his establishment. The phone can only receive calls and can’t actually place them – meaning that the only time it gets used is when someone calls it, and a random passerby answers. Ever since, the phone has become a tiny cultural institution for connecting strangers, and the stories about these weird and random phone calls have become the stuff of legend. So if you’re interested in a chat with a stranger, call the number on the side (647-483-6060).

6. Half house: 54 ½ St. Patrick St

The half house looks like it's still under construction. Photo courtesy of Rebecca Barrett.

This house looks like an optical illusion, but it’s not – it’s just one half of a house. Back in the 1970’s, the company Windlass Holdings Ltd. was strategically trying to buy out the blocks bound by Queen, McCaul, St. Patrick, and Dundas. The homeowners at 54 ½ St. Patrick St refused to leave and eventually, they were the sole survivors of the buy-out. The company demolished their northern neighbour with surgical precision, keeping the internal supporting wall in between the two units intact – this support wall is now the blank exterior on the side of the house.


Cheers, Toronto. Stay weird.

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CONDOS GO UP, HISTORY COMES DOWN

Ghosts of Toronto's Past | Rebecca Barrett

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Katie Paolozza wrote an article for this column in 2017 about Honest Ed’s getting taken down. In that article, she raises an important question: “how should we then define a city that changes what is part of its core essence?” This article is my attempt to answer her, and all the other people who think that Toronto’s changing landscape is pushing our city’s heritage to the sidelines.

The critique is certainly fair – it seems that there are new condos going up every other day at the expense of beloved cultural institutions like Honest Ed’s. But the battle between condos and history isn’t black-and-white. In fact, we have more power over our city’s memorialization than we might think.

The demolition of Honest Ed's nearing completion. Source.

The “myth of Toronto”, the story and identity of our city, changes based on who you ask. Some people think Toronto’s myth is multiculturalism, for others it might be world-class cuisine, absolutely terrible public transit, or permanent construction. Insofar as we all consider different things important to Toronto, we all imagine the city’s myth somewhat differently. However, I think there are instances of common ground between our individual conceptions of Toronto’s myth — for example, many of us mourned Honest Ed’s demolition, suggesting that we all happened to agree that it was important to Toronto.

Honest Ed’s didn’t instantly become a famous Toronto landmark the second it opened its doors. But when that sign was taken down 68 years later, there was a palpable feeling of collective loss, like the entire city was mourning. Sometime during its 68-year lifetime, Honest Ed’s came to develop a greater significance to the city. People had grown to weave Honest Ed’s into their day-to-day lives and family traditions, going there after school every day or taking their kids there every Christmas. When it was taken down, it wasn’t only the end of the building’s lifetime – it was also the end of all those individual traditions.

I think there is a correlation between Honest Ed’s value to Toronto as a whole and its value to individual people. In other words, individual people thought of Honest Ed’s as part of Toronto’s myth, and it developed greater value to the city in virtue of developing this greater value to individuals. And even though it’s gone, those individuals can still remember it through their family traditions that took place there.

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There's No Place Like This Place, Anyplace! Taken in the aMAZEment: Immersive Art Maze at Honest Ed's before it's final closing. @to4everyone Website link in profile for more of my work =). . . . #eventphotography #eventphotographer #canonphotography #canonphotographer #canon #キャノン #to4e #to4everyone #dslr #toronto #トロント #torontolife #torontophotography #torontophotographer #honesteds #anhonestfarewell #honestedsfarewell #honestedsartmaze #amazement #artmaze #comeinandgetlost @canoncanada #canoncanada @blogto #blogto @toronto_insta #toronto_insta @hypetoronto #hypetoronto @dailyhivetoronto #dailyhiveto @streetsoftoronto #streetsoftoronto @6tour #6tour @flickr #flickr #kylemartinmanoza

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A lot of Toronto’s myth develops like this, with pieces of ordinary city life gaining significance by being part of people’s day-to-day lives. This kind of myth seems like it relies on physical continuity, since an institution needs to physically exist to remain a part of people’s day-to-day lives. But I think institutions of Toronto’s myth actually have the power to withstand dramatic change, even demolition – because we can choose to remember them.

The same thing happened with Sam the Record Man: it began as regular store with no inherent significance to the city when it opened. But over time, it developed a greater meaning to individual people, and therefore to the city as a whole.

An old photo of Sam the Record Man in all its LED glory. Source.

We also saw this happen in 2003, when Corwyn Lund installed an ordinary playground swing between two buildings in Graffiti Alley. The “Secret Swing” became an urban legend and tiny cultural institution, a pilgrimage site for the cool youth of Toronto.

The Secret Swing's dedication: "new secret swing dedicated to all of Toronto". Source.

The Secret Swing was an ordinary object given no physical place of prominence in the city. But it became extraordinary through people’s continued interest and fascination with it, until it was officially dedicated to all of Toronto. (As an aside, the alley where the Secret Swing was located got boarded up in 2006, but you can still visit the site today.)

An old picture of some lucky person getting to ride on the Secret Swing. Source.

All of these institutions have been subject to change and taken down. But they haven’t ceased being a part of Toronto’s myth, for the same reason we didn’t just suddenly forget every time our parents took us to Honest Ed’s at Christmastime. The memories don’t go away. So asking how we can define Toronto in light of all these changes is the wrong question (sorry Katie!). We don’t have to change our understanding of Toronto’s myth whenever the city’s landscape changes; rather the myth just needs to survive the landscape changing around it.

With that in mind, I think the question we should be asking is: “how can we create opportunities for remembering the cultural institutions of Toronto’s past?” There are some examples of this already being done in Toronto: the Honest Ed’s sign is going to be installed outside the Ed Mirvish theatre, and the Sam the Record Man sign was moved to Yonge and Dundas Square earlier this year. These memorialization efforts are by no means perfect or free from criticism, but my point is that it is (at least) possible to turn our capacity for remembrance into a memorialization that persists through the changing Toronto landscape.

Sam the Record Man sign lights up the skyline behind Yonge and Dundas Square. Source.

There are so many more missed opportunities to memorialize Toronto’s myth – I certainly don’t intend to suggest that all the work has already been done or that I have the answers about how best to do it. I simply want to suggest that there isn’t a back and forth, all-or-nothing battle, between condos and history, and that Toronto doesn’t lose a part of itself with every new demolition. Even though the city might be changing rapidly around us and doesn’t seem to care about preserving our story, we still have some power over Toronto’s myth. After all, we’re the ones who ultimately have a say over what counts as myth, and it is up to us to find ways to remember it.

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Running through the 6ix with my woes. #honesteds

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