London's Last Brick Pavement

This little-used patch of Adelaide Street near the CNR tracks contains London's last stretch of brick paving. The second last section, on Talbot Street south of York, was ripped up late in the summer of 1979.  Just a quaint reminder of the London of yesteryear.

Those Were The Days...

A postcard from circa 1971 or later
shows Reg Cooper Square (or Centennial Square) next to City Hall. Looking a bit like a Venetian piazza, the square has a fountain, trees in the planters, and a weed-free look. Gosh, there are people sitting in the square, not just passing through. The postcard was published by Victor Aziz Photography, a long-time London business.

Survey Says...

What's this cute little rock? Someone's gravestone? Cairn? Milestone? Halloween decoration? Actually it's none of the above. It's an Ordnance Survey stone erected to mark the northeast corner of the military lands where British troops were stationed up until 1868. The Ordnance lands were passed over to the City of London in 1873 to become Victoria Park, the Fair Grounds, and rows upon rows of housing that today makes up part of London's residential core. The stone stands in a little patch of shrubbery on the southwest corner of Waterloo Street and Kenneth Avenue, just on the edge of Piccadilly Park. An explanatory plaque nearby was erected by the City and London & Middlesex Historical Society  Just one of those small but delightful historical items one comes across when prowling about the city on foot.

Reg's Rough-and-Tumble Rectangle

Good old Reg Cooper Square. For those of you not familiar with it, I refer to that mismanaged attempt to create a public space between City Hall and Centennial Hall in downtown London. 

Named after a long-serving civic employee who deserved better, the "square" - actually a rectangle - was meant to be a place for concert-goers to gather during intermission, an outdoor lunchroom where city workers could eat from their brown bags on sunny days, and a pretty view for those living on the west side of Centennial House Apartments. Instead, it's become a repository for pigeon poop, weeds growing between flagstones, and garbage strewn about by people attending downtown festivals. (Odd that anyone would think a park bench benefits from having a rib bone stuck between its slats - but I digress.)

 

OK, it's not all bad. The little tribute to Japanese Canadians added in 1977 (left) is an attractive, if rather well-hidden, feature. And although I'm not usually a fan of modern art, Ted Bieler's sculpture "Release" (above) is no eye-sore. Both these monuments could use a more attractive setting.

Part of the problem may be the surrounding buildings. I don't actually mind City Hall; there's nothing shabby about it. The Centennial House is not beautiful but, as I'm currently living in it, I can't critique it too much and can only assure the world that it's better on the inside. It's Centennial Hall that should be blown up - oops, I mean demolished - and a proper performing arts centre built on the same site. It's a mid-twentieth century disaster that doesn't deserve the term architecture.

Reg Cooper Square's main purpose at the moment seems to be to act as a short-cut for downtown pedestrians who don't want to hike around it. But maybe if we could convince the city to try a little maintenance, people might stop instead of passing through. Cutting the weeds back more often, painting the benches, repairing broken paving stones, and adding some attractive plantings might improve the square so much that not even its proximity to Centennial Hall could make it ugly. I mean, doesn't our Mayor ever look out the window?

A Stone on Simcoe

This little war memorial stands on the south side of Simcoe Street, commemorating students from Simcoe Street Public School who fought, and presumably died, in World War I.

It's also indirectly a monument to Simcoe Street Public School itself. Also known as Governor Simcoe School, it stood on the north side of Simcoe Street just east of Clarence. Built in 1887 and demolished in 1976, the school would have been attended by Guy Lombardo and his brothers who lived just a block away.

A reminder of London's past as well as a lost generation.

A Tribute to Dr. Agnos

Many of London's monuments pay tribute to notable local individuals. An example is this sign in a green area next to the semi-detached houses at 224-226 Richmond Street. It asks us to remember Dr. John William Agnos, avid naturalist and respected radiologist. John's father William, a Greek immigrant, bought 224 Richmond in 1950, while John's sister Georgia bought 226.

John graduated from Western's medical school in 1952 and became Head of Radiology at Westminster Hospital. But he was also an active and well-known environmentalist (in the days before environmentalism was trendy) and a president of the McIlwraith Field Naturalists. Eventually his interests in science and nature prompted him to produce a monthly column on these matters in the London Free Press. John passed away in 1991.

Heritage on Talbot

This attractive building - complete with heritage paint colours - has its own particular claim to fame, being the oldest wooden store front in London. Located at 357 Talbot Street, it's been sitting here looking cute since about 1863. It's currently the home of Heritage Antiques.

It looks small but stretches a long way back, and proprietor Tom Smits has filled it with a delightful variety of furniture, paintings, china, and ornaments. I coveted an 18th century French sideboard but realized it was too large to fit in my apartment. Maybe one day.

Update, May 2013 - Tom is closing his shop at the end of November. After 38 years in business, he's decided to enjoy a well-deserved retirement and travel. We'll be watching 357 Talbot to see its next incarnation.

Update: This is now London Coin Centre.