Today I begin taking us back, in the hope that I can get you jazzed up about an era long gone by – Toronto of the 1970s.
First stop, municipal politics. And in particular the man who came to be known as “the tiny, perfect mayor,” David Crombie.
“Crombie was elected to Toronto’s city council in 1970, and became Mayor of Toronto in 1972, ushering in an era of socially responsible urban development inspired by thinkers such as Jane Jacobs. Crombie was the first mayor who represented the reform movement of Toronto politics, and his policies differed sharply from those of the Old Guard who preceded him.
Much of Crombie’s time as mayor was spent trying to rein in the development industry. He initially imposed a 45 foot limit on all new constructions, but this was overturned by the Ontario Municipal Board. Crombie then put forward a new official plan that imposed varying height restrictions across the city, and this was upheld by the board.
(A very different story from today when it seems that the city can’t sell our sky space fast enough. Okay back to days of yore)
The Spadina Expressway had been halted by premier Bill Davis in 1971, but Davis continued to support the construction of the Allen Expressway in the north. Crombie attempted but failed to have it halted. He was more successful in countering plans for the Scarborough Expressway; all work was halted during Crombie’s term, leading to its eventual cancellation.
Crombie also opposed the traditional pattern of demolishing poorer neighbourhoods and replacing them by housing projects. The plans to redevelop areas such as Trefann Court, Kensington Market, and Cabbagetown ended under Crombie. Instead, he oversaw the creation of the St. Lawrence neighbourhood, an area of mid-rise, mixed-use, mixed-income buildings that followed Jane Jacobs vision of urban planning.
Crombie was enormously popular as mayor, being re-elected in 1974 and 1976 with large majorities.
Oh boy, thing have sure changed since then….
Back then the Prime Minister’s wife went clubbing at the El Mocambo with the Rolling Stones.
There was an experiment in alternative living for university students called Rochdale. Okay, so it did end up as likely the biggest party house in the world, run by bikers where you could buy any kind of dope your little heart desired. Maybe it failed on one level, but on another, it represented a time and a city where anything went and quite frequently did.
That my friends is the world of Night Town. Over the next month, I’ll dig into fashion, the music, the movies, and upload samples so you can really get an idea as to the sound and feel of Toronto 1970s style.
Got any memories of your own? Care to share? This is the place to do it. Who knows, one of your memories might find their way into the book as a bit of contextual detailing.
Oh, and more thing, uber thanks to wikipedia for the great slice of David Crombie history that you so kindly allowed me to cut and paste. :-)
Have a good week…..C
Toronto in 1970 was a far safer and more gentle place. Few remember this, but in the early 1970s, the Globe & Mail was published late at night, and if you were walking around the downtown, near a subway stop, the delivery truck would leave a naked stack of newspapers with a metal tray on top. There was no delivery box. You did not deposit a coin in to a slot. Instead, you just picked up ONE copy of the newspaper and then placed your money in the OPEN metal tray. People didn’t come along and steal the money. And there were no homeless sleeping on Toronto’s streets. There were few restaurants of any type in the downtown core. “Eating out” did not become fashionable until after 1975. There was a bank on every corner, NOT a Starbucks. And Christmas had not become the soulless shopping frenzy it is today, in 2012, Anno Domini.
I remember the newspapers out like that. Do you remember when taking a newspaper out of a box was on the honour system? You opened the box and took out a paper and then paid. I do remember it changing fairly quickly though and am pretty sure it changed to the pay boxes sometime in the 70s.
And if you missed the grocery store you weren’t buying any food until the next day. Especially if you messed up over the holidays. The only hope you had on those days was one grocery store on Bloor Street and now I’m darned if I can remember the name of it. It was the only place in town to buy any kind of produce after hours. Then slowly you started to be able to get it at Badalis on Church Street. That was so rarified being able to buy olives on a Sunday. Or cashews and gladiolis. I remember thinking I had arrived when I went into Badali’s and bought olives and flowers from the cranky old German man and took them home to my girlfriend.
I’m going to go and ask others on FB to see if they remember the name of that all night grocer on Bloor. One of the only all night diners that had anywhere near decent food at that time was People’s Restaurant on Dupont. And it’s still there. I wonder if the little booth sized juke boxes are?
It is interesting that few writers describe Toronto in detail. Perhaps there’s something in the city that works against it. In fact, Toronto is used as a generic urban setting, posing as other cities in countless TV programs and films. To me, Toronto isn’t it’s buildings or its citizens. Toronto is a psychology. A friend once described the place as “the folded city”, and by that he meant that Toronto had a secret life that went on within the “folds” of its fabric. Small groups of people met in the “folds”, formed relationships, and conducted lives largely unseen. The groups could be rich or poor, but they existed, discreetly, and mostly out of view. Often, by accident or invitation, one would walk into one of the “folds” and one would be astonished by a gathering of interesting or eccentric sorts, leading fabulous lives in the middle of “gray, boring Toronto”.
Torontonians lead very private lives, they are private about their wealth, indiscretions, yearnings. In a sense, the city is a grand mascarade, carried on behind a bland and quite ordinary mask. It is a city of a separate stories that, if you watch long enough, you find they all meet.