Wright Lithographing in the "Good Old Days"

London Life employees pose before company headquarters ca. 1920. The building became
Wright Lithographing. (From the writer's collection.)

For the record, I don't really believe in the "good old days." The folks in the photo had spent years fighting a world war and a flu pandemic.  But these were definitely better days for the office building behind them. I'll even bet the clock worked. It was 5:00. Quitting time. But there were still a few minutes to pose for a company photo before heading home.

The building now known as Wright Lithographing was built for Sanitary Dairy in 1902 but bought by London Life in 1906 to become the company's head office. When the insurance company built its new headquarters at Wellington and Dufferin in 1927, the Wright family took over the building. It's been known as Wright Lithographing ever since. 

Nowadays though, it's not looking too good. Farhi Holdings has recently returned the old clock and lettering, removed a few years back due to vandalism. But it's still empty and boarded:

November 2021

Farhi Holdings bought the building in 2007. It's listed on the company website as available for lease but how much effort has the company made to find a tenant in the past 16 years? 

Well, in an interview earlier this year, Mr. Farhi mentions he sent the city an affordable housing proposal for the building. London apparently turned it down, stating other sites could contain more units. Apparently Farhi also had a letter of interest from a financial institution but the deal fell through. No other interest since 2007? Seems like it might be time to sell. 

The vandalism problem might go away if the building was occupied. If anyone lived or worked in it, they'd be keeping an eye out for vandals. Folks are vigilant about a building in which they have a vested interest. And in 2009, the company tore down a rear addition to make more parking space. So parking shouldn't be a big problem, either. 

Of course, one of the reasons for the high vacancy rate downtown was the vacancy tax break that owners of empty commercial buildings received up to 2019. That rebate was originally intended to assist property owners who were having trouble finding tenants during economic recessions. But it also created an incentive for landlords to leave buildings empty. 

But there are rumblings of new ideas to lower London's downtown vacancy rate, including a vacancy tax and land expropriation. The purpose is to "disincentivize" land speculation. 

And that's exactly what's going on with the Wright building, among others - land speculation. Farhi buys properties as an investment, with no specific plans for them, and holds them for future demolition and land reuse or a profitable resale. After being vacant for 16 years, I fear the future for Wright Lithographing is the former. 

Why bother with rules anyway?

Here it is: the proposed site of Auburn Developments' 17-storey "luxury" highrise. A development Auburn and some city councilors say will add vibrancy to Victoria Park and West Woodfield. On November 16, 2021, London City Council voted 8 to 5 in favour of  rezoning to allow the development.  Here's what Auburn intends to build. 

OK, the proposed highrise isn't much uglier than what's built anywhere else these days. You may like it or you may not. But those of us who oppose the rezoning are concerned about more than aesthetics. There are good reasons why a highrise shouldn't be built at this location:

* City Planning Department recommended that City Council refuse the Auburn application. Why does the city employ expert staff if the politicians won't take their advice?

* The proposed development is not consistent with the Provincial Policy Statement of 2020 which promotes intensification in appropriate locations while preserving heritage.

* The proposed development does not conform to the Official Plan of 1989.

* The proposed development is not in keeping with the policies outlined in the West Woodfield Heritage Conservation District Plan.

* The proposed development sets a precedent that may enable more highrises around Victoria Park and in other city HCDs.

* The city is developing a Victoria Park Secondary Plan to establish maximum building heights and densities around the park. The plan is not yet completed. Why should the city make zoning decisions prematurely?  

What London should do, of course, is:

1) Build highrises outside of HCDs, preferably on the downtown parking lots.

2) Allow a one-block low to mid-rise buffer zone around Victoria Park.

As I've said before, there's not much point in having guidelines if any developer can override them by pressuring City Council. Why have rules when exceptions apply to anyone who asks?

Update: May 2022:  City Council has voted to give the Victoria Park Secondary Plan the go-ahead, despite there being very little agreement about what the perimeter of Victoria Park should look like. But of one thing there can be no doubt: allowing highrises to flank the park will detract from this valuable core-area green space. 

The Lost Art of Letter Writing

How wonderful it is to live in the technologically-advanced twenty-first century, with email, texting, and instant digital communication. It's comforting to be able to contact friends and relatives on the other side of the world and receive an immediate response. Our pioneer ancestors would have appreciated the convenience, not to mention the prompt reassurance that loved ones were alive and prosperous, though they might never see them again.

And yet, there's something charming about handwritten words. For those of us who have piles of old family letters, there's nothing like curling up and perusing them. The letters my relatives saved tell me about their lives and the world in which they lived and struggled. I often feel like I know those people who died decades, even more than a century, before I was born. 

Take the letter my great, great grandmother, Jane "Jennet" Moore, wrote home to her parents in Ireland, on July 12, 1847. It was a great help for compiling our family history. Jennet writes her parents that she now has five children, William, James, Robert, Eliza Jane, and John:

Of course, family historians have lots of ways to find the names of their relatives these days. Ancestry and other genealogy websites speedily grow family trees. But it certainly saved us time to have Jennet record the names of her children. What we didn't know for many years was that she had three children after this letter was written - three more boys, in fact. That's where census records came in handy.

From the address label we learned the name of her father, James Richie, and where she came from, Larne, County of Antrim, Ireland. The postmark is for Oxford County, Upper Canada (U.C.), although the province was officially Canada West by that date. 

Jennet's return address appears at the end of her letter, informing her family that they can reply to her at Ingersollville, Oxford, Brock District, Canada West, N.A.

Whether it was common to call Ingersoll "Ingersollville" at that time or whether that was a Jennet-ism I don't know. The hamlet was not even officially a village until 1852, so perhaps she could call it whatever she liked. As for Brock District, it was created in 1839 from the London District but abolished in 1849. 

Jennet's letter home may have been prompted by news of suffering in her homeland. Since she and her husband John had left Ireland in the late 1830s, conditions there had deteriorated. In 1847, the year remembered as "Black '47," the Great Famine was at its worst. "We are sorry to hear of the distress in Ireland," Jennet writes.* "We hope that none of our friends are suffering under it. We hear bad accounts from the south of Ireland." The accounts she'd heard were correct; the west and south of Ireland were the worst hit. 

But Jennet could report that her husband had a good-paying job and she urged a relative to join them. "We had a letter from Robert Moore. He thinks of coming to this country ... he could do better here ... John has wrote to him ... John is serving a time in the iron foundry. He can do well by it. When he serves one year he can get a dollar and a half a day." (I haven't calculated that daily wage into today's currency but would be pleased to learn how.)

John and Jennet eventually moved to St. Marys where John operated an iron foundry. They died in 1895 and 1855 respectively and are buried in St. Marys. The kids mentioned in the letter grew up and did their own thing. William became Moderator of the Presbyterian Church of Canada; James and Robert, my great grandfather, became hardware dealers; Eliza became an overseas missionary; John went off to South Africa. 

Robert married my great grandmother, Fanny Clarke, in 1882, but not before sending this charming love letter from his home in St. Marys to hers in Ingersoll on May 15:

"I will be glad to drive over to Woodstock with you on Sunday. You think four or five weeks a long time between my visits. I assure you I do too. I would like to go oftener but it is so inconvenient getting back & forth that it is hardly possible.

My Dear Fanny the months will soon wear by and then we will be together all the time. I will be glad when that times comes for I do love you and am sure you love me so that I expect we will be very happy together.

I have no fear of getting my eyes opened the way you speak of (jokingly of course). I believe it will be just the opposite. The more I know of you the more I will love you and I hope it will be the same with you toward me." 

Robert and Fanny were married in Ingersoll on November 9, 1882, the ceremony being performed by his brother, Rev. Will. They remained together until Robert's death in 1910, I hope as lovingly as he anticipated. They had two daughters, my grandmother, Helen, and Kathleen.

The girls, of course, became letter writers themselves, even at an early age. When Robert was away on business, he could expect an in-depth report on everything going on at home, including the activities of family pets like "Caesar" and "Jack." This letter is from his younger daughter, Kathleen, who had yet to perfect her calligraphy skills. A note at the bottom from Fanny explains that "Helen is busy reading," in case Robert wondered why there was no note from his older daughter. She did write at times, however, because we have letters from her too. 

When she was 11, in 1901, Kathleen helped herself to Papa's company letterhead to comment on the recent letter he'd sent home to his business partner, Mr. Browne. Fanny had read aloud the letter Robert had sent to "Mr. B." Here Kathleen comments on Robert's ride in one of those newfangled automobiles: "I was wishing that I was there to have a ride in a horseless carriage." Naturally! What could be more exciting to a turn-of-the-twentieth-century child? Well, maybe a glimpse of royalty. "Did you see the Duke and Duchess?" she continues. "What did they look like?"

The couple in question were the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York, later King George V and Queen Mary, who visited Canada in the autumn of 1901. Their visit lasted five weeks but where Robert was so that he might have waved at them we don't know. His letter was probably returned to Mr. B.

After Robert's death in 1910, and my grandmother's marriage to my grandfather in 1911, Fanny and Kathleen decided to see Europe. Unfortunately, their timing couldn't have been worse, sailing overseas in the summer of 1914. Although they did enjoy a tour of Britain, they never made it to the Continent. In this letter of August 5, mailed to a London hotel, Helen tries to contain her panic: "Where are you and what are you doing? Have you been attacked yet or sent home or what? We hear such terrible rumors of war and I am so glad it has broken out before you got over to France. It might have been so terrible if you had got over there & couldn't get back." Only the day before, Germany had invaded Belgium and George V had declared war on Germany for its violation of Belgian neutrality. World War I was about to begin. 

We also have various letters soldiers wrote to their friend Kathleen, thanking her for the "sox" she'd knitted them, and asking after friends in Canada. There's never any mention of  battles, attacks, or the horrors of the trenches. As her friend, Elliott points out in the excerpt below, "anything interesting would not pass the censor."

But in another note from that same year, Elliott states: "Remember me to Jack and tell him I said this death or glory stuff is not what it's cracked up to be." That message was for my grandfather, Helen's husband, who was in the military but didn't leave Canada. It may be among the great understatements of all time. Perhaps it was Elliott's way of saying "Be grateful you're home."

Elliott, by the way, was Lt. Elliott Manery Durham of the Canadian Expeditionary Force, who enlisted at Sault Ste. Marie in August 1914, aged about 22. Information about him and other WWI personnel may be obtained here. 

And envelopes can be interesting too:

The letter inside this envelope is nothing remarkable, just a note from Fanny to her niece, Sadie, letting her know about her upcoming trip to Britain and hoping she and Kathleen can visit. But the letter was carried on the S. S. Empress of Ireland, a Canadian Pacific Liner that sank off the Gaspé Peninsula on May 29 of that year. The Empress took only fourteen minutes to sink after colliding with a freighter in the fog. 1,012 people drowned in the worst marine disaster in Canadian history. 

Since the ship sank in relatively shallow water and was apparently carrying about £200,000 of silver bullion, the insurance underwriters decided to conduct salvage operations. Much of the mail the ship carried was recovered, dried out and hand-stamped "Recovered by divers from wreck of S. S. Empress of Ireland." The postage stamp is missing; it would have fallen off when immersed in water. 

I don't have letters from every branch of my family, but Kathleen was one of those sentimental savers who hung on to letters, postcards, and photos. Most of them she kept in her portable writing desk. As a child, I liked to take this box off the shelf, place it on my knee and have a good rummage through it, reading the letters and looking at the old photos. 

This isn't the proper way to store archival material of course. Old letters should be placed in acid-free envelopes, archival crystal clear bags, or three-ring page protectors, all of which will keep delicate paper from being exposed to harmful dust, moisture or pollutants. In defense of my family's preservation efforts, though, I can confirm that some material, such as Jennet's letter, has indeed been removed from the desk and protected in proper archival fashion. The rest of it I need to work on ...

So the next time you're thinking about emailing someone, consider sending a handwritten letter instead. Your email may be read and forgotten, perhaps not read at all. But there's nothing like a letter delivered by "snail mail" to get people's attention. It's personal and charming. And, since it takes more time and effort, a letter or card shows you care enough about the recipient to write. 

But, best of all, if your letter is saved, future folks will learn all about you and your life in 2021. Your efforts will be appreciated by future historians, genealogists, and kids who like to "rummage." 

* I have modernized the spelling and grammar in all excerpts. 

Tombstone Tourism: Denfield (Welsh) Cemetery

There's lots of reasons for visiting cemeteries. Some people visit the graves of loved ones to honour their memories. Others find hallowed ground a source of comfort, visiting for spiritual contemplation and prayer. Genealogists look for information about deceased relatives.

Some of us just like cemeteries. 

Whether it's the silence and tranquility, the interesting grave inscriptions, or the feeling of closeness to those who walked the Earth before us, there's something emotional about older graveyards. And you can learn a lot about a community from reading the monuments raised to its founders.

Take Denfield Cemetery. It's located on the west side of Denfield Road, just south of the hamlet of Denfield in the former London Township (now part of Middlesex Centre). Without knowing anything about the history of the area, a visitor quickly deduces that many of the early Denfield settlers were Welsh, the Matthews and Rosser families being among the most prominent. Small wonder that, when a memorial service was held on site in 1934, local historian Dr. Fred Rosser was chosen to deliver the historical lecture.

But I should start at the beginning, 200 years ago in 1821. That was the year three Welsh families arrived in the district - the Matthews, the Morgans, and the Rossers - three couples with no fewer than 25 children among them. Typical for those days, the first burial was one of the little people. William Matthews, aged seven, was the first interment, in 1826. 

It was David Morgan who donated the land for the cemetery, on the northwest corner of the 15th Concession and Denfield Road. A frame Baptist church was built at the cemetery in 1841, replaced in 1854 by a brick building after a storm blew off the first structure's roof. Not surprisingly, early services were conducted in Welsh. And until a baptistery was built in the church in 1870, chilly baptisms took place in nearby Denfield Creek.

Another church building was built closer to Denfield's main intersection in 1890, presumably for convenience. If you're thinking the original building was hardly worlds away from Denfield, you're right, but the distance between concessions in horse-and-buggy days seemed farther than now. And a row of newer houses now fills the gap between the 16th and 15th concessions, so what constitutes "Denfield" has widened. The 1890 church is still standing, empty and unused.

The young Lombardo brothers are said to have played a charity concert at the church during the temperance era. Apparently Carmen Lombardo sang a song entitled "Nobody's Going to Get the Key to My Cellar" which didn't go over well with the stricter locals - until they counted the money brought in by the collection. Then all was well.*

By the twentieth century, the old cemetery was looking a little rough. In 1925, the plot owners set up an endowment fund for upkeep and that same spring the grounds were tidied and trees planted. The current fence and gate were added in 1933. Then came the the 1934 memorial service, held to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Baptist congregation, founded before their actual church was built. Historian Frederick Thomas Rosser, author of The Welsh Settlement in Upper Canada and London Township Pioneers, gave a talk that day. I wouldn't be surprised if the London Free Press sent a reporter to the event but, not knowing the exact date, I haven't found a record of it yet. Hence, I can't tell you what he said.  Maybe one day.

In May 1953 the legendary tornado of that year damaged many of the older stones. The cemetery was restored as much as feasible but it was noted that many of the early monuments were deteriorating anyway. Hence, the addition of this memorial stone which commemorates little Willy Matthews as well as other pioneers, both old and young:

*A story recorded in London Township: A Rich Heritage 1796-1997 Volume I. Another source of information about this church and cemetery is "Highlights in the History of Denfield Cemetery" by W. D. E. Matthews, in Western Ontario Historical Notes, Vol. XX, No. 1, March 1964. 

A Walk Through Walkerville

If you're looking for an interesting day trip from London, Windsor might not be your first thought. But a recent excursion to Canada's Automotive Capital made for an enjoyable day out. 

Why? Most of the day was spent in Walkerville, Windsor's answer to London's own Wortley Village. That is, a heritage neighbourhood filled with older buildings that have been adapted into restaurants, antique shops, quaint boutiques, and pubs. The neighbourhood has lots of examples of architectural reuse, including a Bank of Montreal that's become a restaurant/club (left) and the old whiskey storage facility that's now Walkerville Brewery.

For those not familiar with Walkerville, it was founded by distiller Hiram Walker, producer of Canadian Club Whisky, and became a town in 1890. Walker oversaw much of this "company town" himself, even building housing for his workers. It was annexed by Windsor in 1935, by which time industry had diversified to include the automotive industry. 

Despite its incorporation into a larger city, Walkerville has a small town feel. Its main thoroughfare is Wyandotte Street, filled with thriving independent businesses that manage to feel old-fashioned and hip at the same time. My friend and I had lunch was on the patio of The Kildare House, an Irish-style pub filled with lovely dark woodwork. I also need to recommend Biblioasis, not only because they're my publisher, but because what's a fun neighbourhood without a good indie bookstore? 

After lunch, a walk through some of the side streets led to some magnificent old houses like Willistead (right), home of Hiram's second son Edward.  The mansion, designed by Detroit  architect Albert Kahn in the 16th-century Tudor style, was built 1904-06, and really looks like a piece of Old England transferred into Canada's southernmost city. The Windsor municipal government wanted to tear it down in the 1970s but, fortunately, wiser heads prevailed and this 36-room mansion is now a banquet hall surrounded by Willistead Park. 

Surrounding Willistead are other lovely houses, including more designed by Kahn, all nestled among tall trees providing much needed shade for an afternoon walk in July. Altogether, Walkerville contains Windsor's largest concentration of heritage homes, so it's the perfect neighbourhood for architectural buffs to ooooh and aaaah over. The homes are well-preserved, displaying obvious pride of ownership. I think I might have seen one or two B&Bs, something to keep in mind if I decide my next trip needs to be more than a day.  

The only ambiance spoiler, while dining outside on Wyandotte, was the noise from the non-stop trucks headed for the US border tunnel. By non-stop I mean about a hundred transports an hour. My friend, originally from Windsor, assured me it's been like that for decades. My first thought was that all these trucks should be rerouted so I can hear myself think. Unfortunately, Windsor has very few other routes for the truck drivers to take. When  the tunnel was built in 1930, city planners wouldn't have imagined the number of trucks there'd be in the future.

So there you have it. A unique, fascinating - albeit noisy - heritage hotspot within a two-hour drive, recommended by Jenny. Here's to the town Hiram built! 

  

Sign up for a tour of Labatt Park, the World's Oldest Baseball Grounds

 

Labatt Park, the world's oldest continuously used baseball grounds, is finally receiving the promotion it deserves. I say "finally" because, despite owning the park since 1936, the City of London hasn't done much to boost its fame. But this summer, Tourism London is providing tours of the park, which has brand new interpretive signs as well as historical displays in the Roy McKay Clubhouse. You can book your tour here.

Some readers don't need to be told. You're already fans of baseball and Labatt Park. You enjoy the leisurely pace of the game, the fun of keeping a scorecard, the quoting of statistics. You love evening games, sitting in the grandstand under a dark, moonlit sky, the lights of downtown London shining across the River Thames. You also enjoy sitting in the stands on a bright summer day sipping a cold beer, cheering the crack of the bat. 

For others it's like watching paint dry. You may not be into spectator sports at all. 

Even if you're not into baseball, though, Labatt Park is still of interest to everyone interested in London history. Or women's history. Or black history. Some of the new signs illustrate why:

Signboard images courtesy of Tourism London.

The sign above illustrates how the floods of 1883 and 1937 were devastating to Labatt Park as well as the rest of downtown London. The 1883 flood destroyed the original grandstand. The Flood of '37 damaged the park again, necessitating the building of the park's third grandstand and a new clubhouse. 

During the first half of the 20th century, Labatt Park was visited by various Negro League teams from the US. Famed pitcher Satchell Paige visited in 1954 while touring with a baseball version of the Harlem Globetrotters. After Jackie Robinson broke the "colour barrier" in 1947, players formerly in the Negro Leagues, like Ted Alexander, played in the Intercounty Baseball League. 

During World War II, Labatt Park was the home field for several women's baseball, softball and fastball teams, including the London Supremes who played in the Michigan-Ontario Women's Fastball League right into the 1950s. It's like A League of Their Own right here in London. At left on the above sign is Marion Clark Knowles, pitching for the London Supremes. 

Courtesy of Stephen Harding

Information on the above topics and more can also be found inside the Roy McKay Clubhouse (right) which has been turned into a museum space. Shown here are displays about the Supremes, the PUC Playground Olympics, and the famous London Tecumsehs. The Tecumsehs, created in 1868, were named after their patron, the Tecumseh House Hotel that once stood at York and Richmond streets. One of their players was Fred Goldsmith, probably the inventor of the curve ball as this book explains. In 1877, the Tecumsehs became international champions by defeating the Pittsburgh Alleghenies 5-2 to win the International Baseball Association championship. Before it was Labatt Park, the diamond was Tecumseh Park. 

Courtesy of Tourism London

You never know who'll drop by while you're in the clubhouse. Here Barry Moore, 97, poses with a display of his own uniform, glove, and spikes. Mr. Moore, a retired teacher and minister, also found time to be a pitcher for the London Army team of the Intercounty Baseball League. The jerseys  in the background represent London Majors players who enjoyed exceptional careers during the team's 96-year history. Also on display are the jerseys of Londoners who have been inducted in the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame in St. Marys.

Today, of course, Labatt Park is home to the London Majors of the Intercounty Baseball League. More information about the team and former players can be found here. Founded in 1925, the Majors are getting pretty historic themselves. 

Let's Play Ball!

Dundas by any other name would still have problems

London's main street has been Dundas for a long time. Since the beginning, in fact, when Surveyor-General Thomas Ridout instructed Mahlon Burwell to survey the town plot in 1826. 

Now, 200 years later, after a Toronto City Council vote to rename their Dundas Street, there is media speculation as to whether London will do the same. 

All of this is because Henry Dundas, most powerful politician in Scotland in the 18th century, was apparently a creep, even by the standards of his own time, which were pretty low. His contemporaries called him King Harry the Ninth, The Great Tyrant, and The Uncrowned King of Scotland. Given his efforts to delay the abolition of the transatlantic slave trade during the 1790s, it's been decided Dundas needs to be given the old heave-ho anywhere he's commemorated. 

So how do we get rid of his name? While the procedure may alter, according to this article, in London "the process to change a street's name begins with an application at city hall, including a $512 fee. After staff review the request, council can hold a public meeting prior to making a final decision. Unless council decided otherwise, the proponents of the name change would be required to cover all signage costs plus $200 in compensation paid to each property owner whose address is changing." 

New business cards, new flyers, new address labels, new signs above doors, for every business and residence from the Forks of the Thames to the eastern city limits way out at Nissouri Road. Then there's the controversy that would surround the choice of a new street name. This Prof suggests renaming the street after Tony Small, the first known black man to visit the site of London. "Small Street?" 

Once we've set a precedent by renaming one street, how many others will we have to rename? Most of our oldest streets are named after colonial officials, battlefields, generals, royalty, and Dead White Males. Then there's Plantation Road in Oakridge, which a child has convinced the grown-ups should be renamed despite its obvious reference to trees in this context. 

I'm not completely against renaming Dundas, although I think the new name would need to be something generic like "Main Street" - bland and boring but uncontroversial. Some people call it "Bum-das" but that's not official. Personally, I'd rather have a moratorium on renaming Dundas - and other streets - until we solve a few more important problems. Because we all know there are more pressing issues, right? Especially in the downtown core:

1) There's a lack of good quality businesses and attractions to lure visitors. 

2) There's free parking around the suburban shopping malls. 

3) There's a perception that downtown is full of aggressive panhandlers, drug dealers, and mental cases. 

I work at a Dundas business and I'm aware of the problems. Some of the issues are overrated and I'm not afraid to wander around. But folks elsewhere read articles like this one  and get turned off. And until we change the narrative, we're not going to attract more visitors. 

We know what we need to do. Incentivize businesses to move downtown. Provide parking deals. Build affordable housing. Care for the mentally ill. Treat addiction as a medical, not a criminal, problem. 

It won't be easy. But please, City Hall, could you try to fix the present instead of the past? 

Don't change the Ontario flag

According to a London Free Press article, Western University employee Mano Majumdar doesn't like Ontario's flag. He finds it "surreal" and "bizarre" and says “This flag does not represent the distinctiveness of Ontario or Canada. I think we need to have a conversation about decolonization."

For those of you who haven't looked at the provincial flag lately, I've pasted a reminder above.  You'll note the Union Jack along with the shield of the Ontario coat of arms. It was adopted by Ontario's legislature on April 14, 1965, probably to appease Ontarians of British origin after Canada's new Maple Leaf flag replaced the Red Ensign. 

What Mr. Majumdar dislikes, of course, is the presence of the Union Jack, and perhaps the English flag over the three maple leaves. As the article states, "Majumdar sees the flag as a symbol of Ontario and Canada as a colony." 

Gee, living in a city called London with a Thames River must really bother this guy. I feel for him, having to put up with street names like Piccadilly and Pall Mall. Perhaps we should completely "decolonize" and change all our names to ones with more "distinctiveness?" 

But the Ontario flag doesn't mean we're a colony. It's simply a tribute to Ontario's origins. The province was settled by United Empire Loyalists, followed by waves of immigrants from the British Isles. The  Union Jack on the Ontario flag recognizes this simple historical fact. 

Does this flag mean much to newcomers? Probably not. Is that a reason to change it? I don't think so. Would I immigrate to another country and campaign for a change of flag there? Of course not. I wouldn't expect my country of adoption to change its flag to suit newcomers, even if I did find it "surreal." 

I'm well aware that there's hostility to Britain. For some, the word "Britain" seems to by synonymous with "oppression." In fact, I suspect that some people don't want diversity or inclusion so much as they want to tear down what remains of our British connection because they're personally offended by it. Perhaps Mr. Majumdar dislikes the Ontario flag because of its resemblance to the Civil Ensign of British India?

Apparently Mr. Majumdar is now facing a "racist backlash" to his comments. He's "surprised so many people are passionate about this flag." Go figure. Criticize a flag and raise people's passions. Who would've imagined that? Apparently not Mr. M.

Look, I'm not in favour of racism (although many who read this will probably accuse me of it) and Mr. Majumdar has the right to his opinions. But the truth is we can't make our colonial past disappear, and there's no real reason to try. We should commemorate it. And occasionally celebrate it. And preserve it on our provincial flag. 

If you can't tolerate it, I'll help you pack.

 

On the Renaming of Ryerson Public School

 

Photo taken June 6, 2021

The Thames Valley District School Board intends to rename Ryerson Public School on Waterloo Street. Then they’re going to review all school and facility names to determine if any others should be renamed. We can expect the next will be Sir John A. Macdonald Public School near Highbury and Cheapside.  

This, of course, follows the discovery of the remains of 215 Indigenous children buried on the grounds of a former residential school in Kamloops, BC. Today we’re being told there may be three times as many burials at Marieval School in Saskatchewan. The deaths were apparently undocumented by the school administration, their families never told the children died. 

Egerton Ryerson argued way back in 1847 that Indigenous children should be educated in boarding schools and his ideas were later applied to the residential school system. In 1883, when Macdonald was Prime Minister, Canada’s Parliament approved the funding for the first three residential schools. Ryerson died in 1882, Macdonald in 1891.

Here’s what else they did:

Egerton Ryerson

•         A founder of Victoria College, its first principal, and benefactor.
•          An advocate for secularization, to keep power and influence away from any particular church.
•          Chief Superintendent of Education for Upper Canada after 1844. His major innovations included school libraries, professional development conventions for teachers, and a central textbook press using Canadian authors.
•          Lobbyist for free universal education to provide schooling for those less privileged.
•          Creator of a system of school inspection to ensure provincial polices were enforced.
•          A founder of the Toronto Normal School in 1847. Canada’s first publicly funded museum was established in this building in 1857, using a collection based largely on artwork and scientific apparatus Ryerson himself acquired in Europe.

Sir John A. Macdonald

•          A leading figure in the discussions and conferences which resulted in the BNA Act of 1867 and the birth of Canada as a nation.
•          As Prime Minister, the builder of a successful national government for the new country.
•          The builder of a railway across the continent, a project many believed to be impossible. It was the largest engineering project of its kind in the world.
•          Creator of the NWMP in 1873 to patrol the North-West Territories.
•          Creator of Canada’s first national park, Banff Hot Springs Reserve, in 1885.
•          Proponent of Indigenous people gaining the franchise without losing any of their rights under either the Indian Act or any of their treaties. (They did not gain the vote until 1960 under Diefenbaker.)
•          Proponent of votes for women in 1885, the first world leader to do so.

While Macdonald and Ryerson were involved in the creation of the residential school system and no doubt intended Indigenous children to be culturally assimilated, it is doubtful whether either man intended the children to be abused or neglected. Their goals were likely to ensure the children graduated as English-speaking Christians who could farm or practice a trade, a not unreasonable goal given the time period. While the system appears outrageous to modern sensibilities, the instances of abuse and neglect at the schools were the responsibility of individual teachers, principals, and workers, not Ryerson and Macdonald, who were already dead. 

What names will go next?

There are other “problematic” school names in London. No doubt many of these will have to go too: 

Emily Carr: Her depictions of coastal Indigenous culture have been called cultural appropriation. One writer has called her a “narcissistic white colonizer.”

F. D. Roosevelt: He sanctioned the imprisonment of Japanese Americans during WWII.

Lord Elgin: During the Second Opium War in China, he ordered the destruction of the Old Summer Palace in Beijing, along with its collections of artworks and antiques, inflicting invaluable loss of cultural heritage.

Lord Nelson: Some aspects of his life and career are controversial, including his affair with Emma Hamilton. He may have opposed William Wilberforce’s campaign to abolish the slave trade.

Prince Charles/Princess Anne/Princess Elizabeth/Victoria: Clearly these names are offensive to anyone wishing to sever Canada’s connection with Britain and be a republic instead of a "colonial settler state."

Sir Arthur Currie: He embezzled ten thousand dollars meant for regimental uniforms into his personal accounts to pay off debts. Arguably, he wasted the lives of the soldiers under his command by taking Mons, Belgium on the final day of WWI.

Sir Wilfrid Laurier: He raised the Chinese head tax to $100 in 1900. In 1903 he raised it to $500. And in 1898, he removed the right to vote from the few Indigenous men given the franchise under Macdonald’s 1885 reform bill.

Sir Frederick Banting: It’s said he had a prickly personality and was subject to fits of rage. He even punched one of his colleagues in his laboratory. Some think he took much of the credit for the discovery of insulin, without giving much to fellow researchers Best, Collip and Macleod.

Now, how shall we rename the schools? Number them like in New York City? Bland. Rename them after the streets they’re on? That won’t do. Our street names aren’t woke enough either, often being named after colonial officials, streets in the other London, or battles the British won. Rename them after the heroes of today? Now there's a thought. How about Justin Bieber Public School? 

Questions:

Does renaming schools further Truth and Reconciliation? 

Does removing Ryerson’s name from a London school improve conditions on the reservations? 

Most people before the 1960s were racist, sexist or otherwise bigoted by today’s standards. The concept of empathy for others is quite modern. Abuse and neglect were rampant everywhere before our own enlightened age, and not just at residential schools. Should we simply remove all personal names? What will replace them? 

Senator Mary Jane McCallum has referred to the residential school system as the “genocide of children.” But consider the term genocide. Traditionally, genocide is the intentional murder of a group of people. It’s been practiced worldwide in such hideous examples as the Nazi Holocaust, Bosnia, and Rwanda. The term "cultural genocide," however, is new, an example of “concept creep” in which a term broadens to take on meanings outside its original context. So while forced assimilation may be a disgrace, doesn't calling it genocide trivialize this worst of crimes?

Is it not a tragedy the way extremists damage their cause by alienating those of us who might sympathize but don’t like their words or actions? I can’t support those tell me my country committed genocide or those who rename schools to signal their virtue. 

If we don’t have more respect for our past, what will become of our future?

Update February 2022: The school has been renamed Old North Public School. Completely generic and totally inoffensive. And boring. 

London Buildings: Double Houses

Midway between terrace housing and the detached home is the double house - that is, a house divided vertically by a common wall, designed for two families living side by side, each with their own entry. The double house was usually two storeys, the two sides usually, but not always, symmetrical if built at the same time. Seldom associated with a particular social class or architectural style, they were often built as rental units by landlords who lived elsewhere. The form probably stemmed from a desire for economy, since the shared wall meant a structure less expensive to build than two separate dwellings. 

A fine example is this Italianate double house located at 526-528 Waterloo Street. Built in 1874, it has the typical symmetry associated with double houses and fits in well with the surrounding mansions. 

Another attractive example is 80-82 Stanley Street, a colourful Victorian built ca. 1887.  At least one part is now an attractive apartment with nice hardwood floors and exposed brick walls. 

466-468 Queens Avenue is an example of a double house in which the two sides were built at different times. 468 (right portion) is the earlier part, its construction date unknown, while 466 was built about 1878. The doorways are original but that beautiful rounded stained glass window is an early replacement.

Not all double houses look as stylish as the above. Note this primitive structure on Ann Street:

Then there's 93-95 Dufferin, a double house in use as a commercial space since the 1980s. 93, the portion on the right, was built in about 1868 by Samuel Peters, Jr. (architect of Grosvenor Lodge) while 95 was added in the 1890s. The centre portion, associated with the original structure, was built in the 1880s. 93 shows Georgian influence, while 95 is more Italianate.    

It was Rygar Properties that first planned a mixed-use development for this site. Their plan was controversial since it involved the demolition of Camden Terrace on Talbot Street. The city allowed Rygar to demolish Camden provided they build a commemorative replica and incorporate 93-95 Dufferin into the new development.

Then Rygar sold to Old Oak Properties in 2019 and Old Oak applied to demolish the double house in early 2021. Heritage activists argued that the original agreement with Rygar should apply to the new landowner as well. City Council agreed and turned down the demolition request. Old Oak has now agreed to incorporate these buildings into their highrise development. 

So in May 2021 we have this going on:

It will be interesting to see how Old Oak incorporates the above double house into a development that includes a 40-storey skyscraper. 

A late 20th century double house in south London. Same idea ... but without charm.

No Skyscrapers at the Forks of the Thames

ACO London  was founded in July 1966, largely because of the threat to demolish these early commercial buildings on the west side of Ridout Street south of Eldon House. Nicknamed Bankers' Row, the streetscape is an excellent example of the architecture built in pre-Confederation era towns. Fortunately, John Labatt Ltd. paid to restore the buildings in the late '60s - early '70s and the Ridout Restoration has formed an integral part of London's historic heart ever since. Architectural enthusiasts considered these buildings safe, their future not in doubt. 

But then came Farhi Holdings Corp. with a plan to build a 40-storey "flagship and legacy" residential/commercial tower behind this row, incorporating the old buildings into the design. If you can't picture that, take a look here. 

So what's the problem? Heritage harpies should be happy, right? Isn't this a great compromise? The old buildings will be preserved and London will get more of the residential and commercial space city  planners deem necessary to revive our downtown core. 

Here are some concerns:

• This proposed tower and the one suggested by York Developments at 50 King Street may be a “slippery slope,” setting precedents for more towers to be built along the Thames, a Canadian Heritage River. When highrises crowd the waterfront, they detract from the ambiance of the river forks, Harris Park, walking path, and river view.
• Besides the Ridout Restoration, this part of Ridout Street contains:  Eldon House, London’s oldest house; Museum London, the city’s best-known gallery; the Old Courthouse, the city’s oldest building. Together, this streetscape constitutes the heart of London, an area we should be promoting to tourists. How could a modern highrise contribute to the ambiance?
• The proposed building and its podium are not in keeping with the style of the existing buildings, which constitute one of London's four National Historic Sites (the others are Banting House, the Old Courthouse and Wolseley Barracks). How can we preserve a capsule view of 19^th century Ontario with an unsympathetic contemporary development perched behind? 
• Before rezoning, the height of new construction here was limited to the height of the existing structures – three storeys. Should zoning changes or “bonusing” really allow buildings nearly ten times taller than what’s already there?
• The nearby park is a floodplain. The overflowing Thames has been known to cover Harris Park and its adjacent parking lot. How will the water impact a building on the park’s edge? According to this article, the Upper Thames Valley Conservation Authority has OK'd the development. But so many of us are used to seeing this.
• Will Bankers’ Row be able to withstand construction disturbances, including excavations and vibrations? We don't want this to happen. 
• Farhi's track record on preserving such buildings as the old Central Library and Wright Lithographing suggests his company may not be the best caregiver for the Ridout complex. There's already been a fire at number 435 and the building has not been fully restored. 
• Why build on this site at all? Surely there must be some other space Farhi can use for development. How about the the old Free Press building? Or the parking lot across the street?

     The issue goes before London's Planning & Environment Committee on May 31 and a great many Londoners, myself included, have written to PEC and the city, requesting them to turn down the rezoning application.

      Update: PEC has passed the motion for rezoning. Now it goes to full Council on June 15.                      

      Update: Council voted 12-2 in favour of rezoning. Most councilors believe this is a "win-win" situation, saving heritage yet promoting development. My prediction? Nothing will be built here and Bankers' Row will be gradually demolished by neglect. Of course, I hope I'm wrong.

      

100 Stanley Street: Make an offer to the City of London, Ontario. Fast.

Here it is. 100 Stanley Street at the corner of Wharncliffe Road South. A white brick Queen Anne house built about 1896, with a keyhole window on the main level and a rectangular oriel window on the second floor. The oriel has a small bracket detail above and rests on a decorated wooden sill. There's coloured glass in the windows. And there's lovely interior woodwork, such as a newel post shaped like a King chess piece.

Yes, it's a bit difficult to see, the garden having become a jungle. Some would even say the foliage obstructs views at the intersection.

Nancy Finlayson lived here for decades, about thirty years in total. Her home was designated by the city in 2010. It stands on Stanley Street, at one time the main road out of the city to Port Stanley. 

But in 2017 the public learned that the city was considering demolishing her home, expropriating the land to widen Wharncliffe Road and repair the nearby railroad overpass. The road widening was necessary, the city argued, to remove the traffic bottleneck, prevent congestion and collisions. 

But Feisty Nan fought The Plan. And she wasn't the only one. Others in the city raised petitions on her behalf and staged demonstrations on the corner. The city was starting to look bad. Who tosses an old lady out of her home just to widen a road?

In 2018 the City of London indicated it was not without sympathy (or realized it looked nasty) and stated they were willing to spend an extra half million dollars to move 100 Stanley to a lot on a nearby street,  admittedly an accommodation most cities wouldn't bother with. Relocating her home was a way to save it from the wrecking ball and keep it within its own historic neighbourhood. And it would only cost $500,000 to cover the bill to move the house about 100 metres. 

Yet when the city offered to move her lovely home to the corner of Wharncliffe and Evergreen, Nan argued it would take the house out of its context onto a bare, treeless lot. She insisted she wouldn't move.

In January 2020 London City Council voted to expropriate her land. As recently as June 2020, Nan said she wouldn't leave. Unfortunately, she was told she needed to get out by October 1. In September, the city reached a settlement with her, offering $500,000 for her home and land. Perhaps she realized she couldn't "beat City Hall." She has moved to a home in Blackfriars. 

Yet despite the sale of the land and house, the city continued to consider moving the home, probably due to pressure from conservation groups such as ACO London. But in early 2021, city engineers suddenly estimated the relocation cost at $900,000 - $1,100,000 and, at this point, some on City Council decided the cost was too much.

On March 23, City Council narrowly voted to demolish the building. (I haven't heard how much that will cost.) The road widening is expected to begin either later in 2021 or 2022. Total cost: $39 million. Of which the cost of moving 100 Stanley was merely a proverbial drop in the bucket. 

One could argue that the city put poor Nan through a nightmare. A lady in her late seventies, kicked out of the home she loved. Anyone with an ounce of sympathy would be on her side. And her house had numerous interesting features, being particularly well preserved. I was "House Captain" in 2009 when her home was included on ACO London's 36th Annual Geranium Heritage House Tour. I remember Nan saying of her home "I love you." If it was my place, I'd love it too. It was particularly well preserved. And now, what she'll remember for the rest of her life was her desperate fight to save it.

But if I'd been her, I'd have let the city move the house. Just think of the advantages: a safer, less busy location; a new basement; new landscaping; the lovely home itself saved for future generations. Londoners in the 2090s might have been able to see a well-preserved home from 200 years earlier. 

I know what some will say. She impeded progress. She's only an attention seeker. She got a great price for her home so why complain. There's lots of old houses so why care about this one. The intersection is a bottleneck and needs to be widened.  Certainly the comments about the former owner posted online have been cruel indeed. Apparently there are some very nasty people out there, posting anonymously at the end of internet news stories. 

But let's for a minute pretend we live in an Ideal Heritage World. In that world an infrastructure change wouldn't adversely affect cultural heritage resources. Our cultural heritage would  be preserved in situ, there would be no expropriation, no demolition of municipally designated properties. We wouldn't be widening roads to make room for more cars. We'd be trying to find ways to get  people out of their cars, via car pooling, public transportation, bicycles, walkways, better planned neighbourhoods, etc. 

We don't live in that world yet. So here's my suggestion. The City of London should sell 100 Stanley for $1 to anyone who can move it. And forget about that high price tag for moving. ACO London has received two estimates suggesting it wouldn't cost more than $500,000 to move the house. Seriously. And surely selling the home would cost the city less than demolition. 

Just contact the city fast. Before 100 Stanley becomes another victim of Progress. 

Move "People and the City"

 

It was meant as a tribute to the people of London, Ontario, from the original First Nations to the community leaders of later times. Created by artists Stuart Reid and Doreen Balabanoff, it was installed downtown on August 5, 1991. 

And the people of London have been deriding their "tribute" ever since.

Not that the monument itself isn't terrific. Each section features a different group of people eg. Early Settlement; Politics; Sports & Entertainment, etc. Individuals pictured inside those panels include Amelia Harris, John P. Robarts, and George "Mooney" Gibson, among others. 

The problem is where it was placed. How are people supposed to study the pictures without taking their lives in their hands, standing in the middle of Wellington Street? Was a monument with such detail really meant to be placed on a traffic median? Of course not. The artists intended viewers to be able to walk around it and look closely at the figures. The explanatory plaque is across the street on the sidewalk but no one standing before the plaque can properly see what it's describing. 

It also obstructs visibility at the intersection. When I'm facing north, waiting to make a left turn on to Queens Avenue, I always wonder if a southbound car is just behind the monument where I can't see it. If so, will the driver be able to stop in time or slam into me? How much easier it would be if this piece of public art was somewhere else.

And now the base is crumbling because the salt spread on the city streets in winter is destroying the limestone. But what they should really be doing is moving the monument to a new location. How about next to City Hall somewhere? Or even better, in Victoria Park or Harris Park, where visitors could walk around it? After all, if the "people" have their monument, they should at least be able to see it. 

Well, at least the city is repairing the base, June 2022.