Jack McLaren, Let's All Hate Toronto (Kingswood House, 1956)

Lister Sinclair is best remembered today from his sixteen years as host of CBC Radio One's Ideas and as a long-time panellist on Front Page Challenge. But his association with the CBC goes back much further. Bombay-born and London-raised, Sinclair and his mother were stranded in North America while visiting the World's Fair when war broke out in 1939. They moved to Vancouver, where an eighteen-year-old Sinclair—instantly feeling at home in the coastal city—studied mathematics and physics at UBC. There, he also wrote for The Ubyssey, was drawn to the theatre by an interest in classical drama, and developed a life-long friendship with Pierre Berton. Arriving at the University of Toronto to continue his studies, Sinclair took part-time work as a voice actor for CBC radio to make extra money.

His aspiration to be a dramatist was encouraged by producer Andrew Allan, who Sandy Stewart wrote in From Coast to Coast: A Personal History of Radio in Canada (CBC Enterprises, 1985) was "mainly responsible for bringing excellent radio drama to Canadians during the Golden Age" of Canadian radio between 1944 and 1954. Until the 1940s, the CBC hadn't shown much interest in developing Canadian talent but, as producer of innovative CBC programs like the Stage series, Allan gave tremendous freedom to Sinclair and other writers to produce dramas that explored the country's heritage.

Beginning in 1944, Sinclair would compose more than seven hundred radio plays. Never one to shy from controversy, one of his early plays, The Case Against Cancer, demystified the disease for a popular audience, while another, Hilda Morgan, prompted debate in the House of Commons because it concerned a young, pregnant widow exploring her options. As his later career would illustrate, the young Sinclair was really—as Claudia Calabro put it in the Ryerson Review of Journalism—"a teacher and thinker disguised as a radio playwright."

Observers have sometimes criticized that not many radio scripts of the golden age have stood the test of time. "But the critics have missed the point," Stewart argues. "They forget that these scripts were not intended to 'hold up.' They were written of and for their time," mirroring the contemporary social life of the country. While many of Sinclair's jokes in We All Hate Toronto could've applied to prewar Toronto, this anti-Toronto satire was timely. During the Second World War, servicemen from across the country flooded into the city and frequently complained that it was dull and puritanical—and they'd likely have agreed with Sinclair's barbs.

McLaren's view of city traffic.

Upon the first of the show's several broadcasts, Torontonians were outraged and huddled around water coolers for incensed chit-chat. Frank Tumpane recalled, in the Globe on April 26, 1951, that "anguished cries" of Torontonians denouncing it "as an attack on the city of their birth or adoption" echoed "in the press throughout the land."

"We All Hate Toronto simply scintillates with some of the worst cliches ever to be dredged out of a notebook," Tumpane wrote. He complained of misfired jokes so "shopworn and hackneyed" that they might've been repeated since "back about the time of the Boer War." He felt the play was so juvenile that being offended by it would be "about on a par with complaining publicly about the kid who sticks out his tongue at you as you walk down the street." On the other hand, Gordon Sinclair writing in The Star in late 1951 ranked the radio play "as one of the four best broadcasts ever aired."

The story concerned Charlie, a young everyman from a nameless Canadian locale, who decides to move to Toronto to pursue the "sacred principle" of money. After hearing the news, his parents let out "a dreadful shriek," bemoaning that their "respectably brought up" son would choose "the city that nobody loves."

Being outfitted at the local department store, Charlie is assisted by Mr. Beelzebub—a native Torontonian—who offers Charlie advice. He suggests, for example, that Charlie sew fish-hooks in his pockets to prevent the pick-pockets of Bay Street. And, in a comment that foreshadowed one of the most ridiculed incidents of the Mel Lastman years, Beelzebub warns that Toronto winters could be tough because councillors had "voted that it wouldn't snow there any more" and sold all the snow-clearing equipment. And since no satire about mid-century Toronto would be complete without ridiculing the city's notorious puritanism, Beelzebub launches into song, with the music provided by the CBC's Lucio Agostini:

The people are pure, and vengeance sure
Descends on a budding Lothario.
So any whose folly inclines to the jolly
Tries not to get caught in Ontario.

Later on, another character, standing in the shadows of the tallest building in the British Empire and the largest hotel in the British Empire, gripes that gossipy and judgmental Toronto was also "the largest small town in the British Empire." In this city, alcohol was so difficult to obtain that the hobo in the park continuously offers Charlie nail polish remover and hair tonic. Toronto's reputation for rigid respectability, forged in the 1830s and 1840s with the rise of middle-class moral reformers, had long been enshrined in law. But civic authorities were beginning to be relaxed.

McLaren showed the continuity of the joke through the ages by repeating the same joke three times.

Overcoming the objections of one and all—even the train conductor suggests he'd much prefer to disembark at Port Credit—Charlie pulls into Toronto, "the swarming, seething tumultuous sky-scraper-ridden heart of Ontario," expecting "an endless throng of eager, excited, happy, bustling people!"

"Only," as the narrator punctuated a vast radio silence, "he happened to arrive on a Sunday." Another tried and true Toronto joke motif, the success of the sabbatarian movement in Toronto—with fights over Sunday streetcars and tobogganing—had long made the city the butt of jokes. In about 1890, T. Hadley McGinnis opined that Sunday was "a terror...unless one happens to enjoy going to church, walking about the quiet streets, reading, or sleeping." That same quip, in a 1955 Maclean's article, was harnessed in the name of reform. As with puritanism, Toronto's sabbatarian laws were weakening in the post-war period.

By 1947, agitation grew for a loosening of restrictions against Sunday sports, eventually achieving success (albeit by a bare majority) in a January 1950 referendum. Although being pushed to the fringes by a new middle class and increasingly diverse population, the old conservative, religious order would not give in without a fight.

On Monday morning, Charlie awoke to a whole new city—because, as the narrator put it, "on Mondays, Toronto makes money!" Torontonians sang as they passed Charlie on the way to work:

Debits and debentures;
Assets, files and dockets.
Off to put our hands in
Someone else's pockets.
...
Sing a song of money
Pockets full of dough;
Out for filthy lucre
Off to work we go!

Sinclair's most trenchant critique was that "the curse of financial prosperity hangs over Toronto like some miasma from the low-lying swamp on which the luckless city was originally built." In the decade following the war, Toronto was well on its way to surpassing Montreal as the economic engine driving the country. In this era, the city entrenched itself as the banking and financial capital of the country; the TSX became the country's preeminent exchange; and more and more corporations chose Toronto for their headquarters.

McGeachy agreed and cited jealousy as the primary cause of animosity. But, with the sort of smugness that'd be sure to breed resentment in any non-Torontonian reader, McGeachy concluded: "Only foolish people can be angry with a rich capital for being one."

But Sinclair hit the mark where McGeachy missed the point: it's not just that Toronto was wealthy but that its wealth was perceived as having been achieved off the backs of the rest of the regions. On the trading floor of the stock exchange—"the heart of the Dominion, pumping the life blood of commerce through all the arteries of the land"—a broker tells Charlie: "It's good for Ontario; everything that happens here is good for Ontario; we hope. You see, all the profits come to Toronto. That's why people dislike us. If we weren't in the Stock Exchange, I could explain to you that it's the old story of the argument between the haves and the have-nots; in other words, the class war!"

McLaren's view of the city's new subway on day one.

But Sinclair, having attended university in a hot-bed of anti-Toronto sentiment, surely would've known that this sentiment was real and deeply held. In places like Vancouver, it is bred in the bones, a kneejerk reaction that—depending on the cultural or political circumstances at a particular moment—can be tongue-in-cheek or deadly serious. Yet Sinclair's radio play also contained obvious affection for his adopted home.

McLaren addressed some similar themes as Sinclair. But in the decade between Sinclair's play and McLaren's book, the city had continued to grow up. So the cartoonist added his own digs. Foregoing the easy gibes at Bay Street plutocrats, McLaren took aim at post-war consumer culture.

McLaren's view of the city's new subway on day three.

Pierre Berton offered a mid-century thesis, which was quoted in Beverly Fink-Cline and Leigh Cline's The Terrific Toronto Trivia Book (Nelson, 1979). He said that, because most Torontonians come from somewhere else, "Torontonians don't give a damn what anybody says about Toronto." But the furious reaction against We All Hate Toronto seems to contradict this idea. For each new instance of anti-Toronto sentiment over the years, the local press duly recorded it, and journalists would initiate another round of finger-wagging and hand-wringing.

Sometimes the coverage could take a sly pride. "We harbor a suspicion," the Peterborough Examiner theorized in a November 1954 op/ed, "that Toronto secretly prides itself on being thought of as the bete noire of Ontario and has deliberately encouraged the belief that it has a cloven foot."

At other times, this defensive brand of civic boosterism revealed the city's deep-seated post-war status anxiety. Historian A.R.M. Lower suggested to McGeachy that "Toronto's secret ambition [was] to become less and less unlike New York." Fuelled by Sinclair, McLaren, and others, this anxiety was so deeply ingrained that in the late 1950s when a CBC crew set out to interview Torontonians for a radio documentary they actually expected to hear nothing but vitriol towards the town. Surprised to learn the crew had heard nothing but praise, Star columnist Dennis Braithewaite tied the city's need for love with its city-building aspirations: "Maybe we are all growing up at last."

Barry’s comedy is also steadily accumulating critical acclaim lately. Earlier this week, the Onion A.V. Club voted Todd’s 2001 album, Medium Energy, among the best comedy recordings of the decade, with staff writer Scott Gordon lauding Barry’s ability "to construct such mini-snowglobes of sarcasm." Known for delivering tight jokes in his trademark monotone drawl, Barry’s sets consist of observational satire, anecdotes, and sometimes-uncomfortable interactions with the audience.

"You don’t have to be afraid to sit up front at my show," Barry assures me. "But I might start talking to you. But it won’t just be, 'Why you wearing that fucking shirt, asshole?'"

He also brings a new sort of celebrity to the Comedy Bar stage, having recently been voted (alongside the likes of Jamie Oliver and John Mayer) as one of the "Top 10 Hottest Men to Follow on Twitter" by a blogger on Smak News.

"I saw my name on it and I couldn’t believe it," says Barry. "I’m hot; like super-sexy-hot. One of the hottest guys to follow on Twitter. I guess loads of women want to follow me. And they’ll probably un-follow me when they don’t get what my jokes are about."

Whether you find Todd sufficiently hunky, calling him one of the funniest stand-ups touring these days seems a less controversial proposition. Regardless, these three headlining shows at the Comedy Bar are something to tweet about.

Todd Barry performs at the Comedy Bar tonight, November 20, at 10:30 p.m., and tomorrow, November 21, at both 8 p.m. and 10:30 p.m. He’s also set to guest star with the Sketchersons as part of their Sunday Night Live Show this Sunday at 9 p.m. Limited tickets are still available for $25 at the door; some specially priced $20 student tickets are also available.

City officials first noticed the Edgewater Hotel sign's deterioration in May of 2006, when the owners of the building at 14 Roncesvalles Avenue applied to the city for a variance, so that they could erect a new sign on the building's rooftop. The building was then a Days Inn (it recently became a Howard Johnson), and the new sign would have been an illuminated Days Inn sign.

During the approval process for the new rooftop sign, city staff determined that the Edgewater Hotel sign had heritage value. The variance was approved, but only on the condition that the owner of 14 Roncesvalles Avenue agree to restore and maintain the Edgewater sign. The new Days Inn sign was to have replaced the still-extant upper, triangular part of the Edgewater sign—the part that said "Hotel." The familiar "Edgewater" portion would have remained intact.

Nearly three years later, in February 2009, no noticeable restoration work had been completed on the neon sign, and the new rooftop Days Inn sign had not been erected. City inspectors returned on February 6 and noted deficiencies in the Edgewater sign's upkeep, including damaged supports and faded lettering. The case went before the Property Standards Committee on April 24. The Committee granted the owners—who are identified only as "1118084 Ontario Limited"—an extension on making the repairs, until September 1.

If any repairs were made, they weren't sufficient. Shortly after the city issued its take-down order on November 3, the sign was removed—presumably by the building's owner. Telephone messages left with the owner's office staff went unreturned.

It's impossible to say definitively that the owner of 14 Roncesvalles Avenue allowed the Edgewater sign to fall into disrepair deliberately in order to skirt the city's demands that the sign be repaired and maintained, but, given so much evidence of the owner's indifference, this is a likely explanation. Gord Perks (Ward 14, Parkdale-High Park) has been telling his constituents as much (and he said the same thing to NOW Magazine). Also, there are precedents for this tactic of strategically avoiding repair work. Toronto has a somewhat infamous history of allowing heritage buildings to be demolished by neglect.

City Council passed a bylaw, in 2007, to close the loophole that used to enable heritage property owners to refuse to repair their buildings, but the bylaw only applies to designated "heritage properties." The building at 14 Roncesvalles Avenue isn't designated, and so Parkdale has no recourse but to adjust to life minus a prominent marker of its past.

Huge thanks to Jane Clark for the tip, and for assistance with research.

Hat tip to Rami Tabello.

Laugh Sabbath presents Paul F. Tompkins at the Rivoli (October 25, 2009). Photo by Kaori Furue/Torontoist.

Back in August, Tompkins was in Atlanta, anxiously trying to publicize his weekend of gigs at the Laughing Skull Lounge (he was taping footage for his upcoming DVD, You Should Have Told Me). Despite his sizable following, he was having trouble filling the seventy-four-seat venue. He took to Twitter to get the word out, which fell on the ears and iPhone of Bob Kerr. According to Tompkins, Kerr did "his least favourite thing," which was to send a tweet suggesting he come to another city (Toronto) while he was mired in promoting a pending show elsewhere. "So," said Tompkins while being interviewed between shows for the TVA Podcast, "I replied, half-kiddingly, but also half-angrily: get three hundred people to say they'll come see me, and then I'll come to Toronto." Within minutes, Kerr created a Facebook group called "I Wanna See Paul F. Tompkins in Toronto!" and in just one week, it boasted over three hundred earnest members.

True to his word, Tompkins started making plans for a Toronto show. He consulted his friend Martin Gero—Hollywood writer/producer and former Ryerson student—to select the perfect venue. Gero recommended the Rivoli for its historical significance (i.e. the birthplace of The Kids in the Hall). When it came to recruiting a middle act, some of Laugh Sabbath's regular performers (Laugh Sabbath is the Riv's weekly Sunday night comedy show) submitted their demos to Tompkins, and he chose quirky and hilarious Katie Crown. And to host, who better than the man who made it all happen?

iPhone souvenir from show night: Comedians Katie Crown, Paul F. Tompkins, and Bob Kerr at the Rivoli. Photo by Michelle Joseph.

Torontoist was lucky enough to attend the packed early show and chat with Kerr before the man of the hour arrived. After waiting almost three months, he was anxious to get these shows started and to finally meet his favourite comedian. "There's nothing like performing in front of one of your all-time heroes to make you doubt everything you've ever written," he told us while looking over his set list.

Tompkins arrived in a grey three-piece suit complete with matching tie and handkerchief, and thereby became undoubtedly the most dressed-up performer to ever enter the backroom at the Riv. After spending so much time listening to Tompkins on podcasts and reading his copious daily tweets, Kerr said it was like they had met before. "It was weird because I felt like I would never see him," he told us. "Even when I knew he was coming to Toronto. It's almost like he doesn't actually exist. I've only known him from all these other mediums, mainly audio or reading. But when I saw him, it was like, 'Paul, hi!' He looked exactly like I thought he would look...it just felt like I knew him already. I actually relaxed when I saw him. Suddenly, I just wasn't afraid of him...of being in the same room."

Most don't have the courage to engage their idols directly and invite them to their towns. Despite everything he did, Kerr maintains he's no exception. "It's not like me," he insisted, "but, I think the fact that I wanted it to happen so bad overtook my own personal hesitations. I wanted to see him face-to-face...shake his hand and talk to him."

Tompkins's Impersonal CD, autographed to Kerr: "Dear Bob: Thank you so much for making this happen. You should seriously consider starting a cult. Gratefully, Paul."

Needless to say, the shows were fantastic and very well-received because the room was full of true fans—people who cared enough to lobby to get him to Toronto. In between shows, Tompkins said on the TVA Podcast, "As soon as I walked out on that stage, I felt like I had been there before. There was something really magical about it...it was great. I would say this is one of my all-time favourite nights of my career."

But the story didn't end there. Within a few weeks of his return home to LA, dozens of new Facebook groups popped up asking for the very same thing. At last count, there were thirty-two additional groups, the most enthusiastic being Halifax who raised their three hundred in just three days (PFT is currently scouting venues for this show). The most far-flung of the lot is a group from Malmö, Sweden, called "Paul F. Tompkins till Malmö!"

In the midst of all this, Tompkins hasn't missed a beat—he is embracing this new way of booking (he wrote a how-to blog post and created the #tompkins300 hashtag on Twitter to keep up with everyone's efforts). With thirty-two cities on the list and growing, this could turn into an international tour.

And how does Kerr feel about starting this trend with Tompkins? "I feel spectacular," he told us. "It's something that me and Paul did together, which makes me feel amazing because Paul's a hero of mine. And now that it's picking up and it's a possible career vehicle for him to travel around and know that people are actually excited in these different cities. How great is that for Paul, or for any comic?"

If you missed Paul F. Tompkins when he was here, many nearby cities are campaigning for shows (e.g. Detroit, Montreal, Boston, Chicago). Consult the #tompkins300 hashtag on Twitter or search for "Paul F. Tompkins" in Facebook. If you would like to see Bob Kerr, the man who lit this fire, he is middling for another LA comedian, Todd Barry, at the Comedy Bar this Saturday, November 21 at 8 p.m.

All photos by Ayngelina Brogan/Torontoist unless otherwise specified.

Artworks on display in the public preview.

The scores of artworks for this year’s sale have been collected and displayed at OCAD since Wednesday. They can be previewed online or in person until 8 p.m. this evening, and the public sale begins tomorrow at 10 a.m. Attendees will receive a number as they arrive at the sale, and this is the order in which purchasers are called upon to make their selection. In the past, some people have lined up the night before to secure their place in the queue.

The fundraiser features over one thousand works of art, and to receive this many submissions, OCAD makes participating verge on fun for those, like me, who contribute. They even mail each person that requests one an artist package consisting of two pre-cut pieces of art paper to use for your creations, should you choose. Unfortunately, they inevitably arrived pre-creased by what could be inferred as Canada Post’s blanket “fold and bend” policy, which instantly rendered the unconventional 5.5” by 7.5” size even more of a hurdle. (The logic of a format just slightly larger than standard remains one of "Whodunit?'s" more profound mysteries.) After cutting pieces of wood to size, I produced two paintings, signed the back of the works (rather than the front), and sent them in.

A DJ performs at the gala event.

“Whodunit?” also has a ticketed gala event, which took place on Wednesday. It featured a silent auction of mystery works selected from among the submissions, and a live auction of larger-scale works obtained from emerging artists. We spoke to Wil Kucey, the chair of the “Whodunit?” Curatorial Committee to find out how the silent auction works are chosen. “We aim to choose works that offer a nice balance between recognizable artists’ works and works that are strong in their own right but are created by perhaps some lesser known artists.” Proving that “lesser known artists” are indeed represented in this group, one of my paintings went into the silent auction. It certainly adds a dynamic element to the experience—hovering inconspicuously near an auction sign-up sheet, trying to will people to bid on your piece with your mind.

A gala attendee considers the silent auction works.

The stress of the auction over, it was time for the best part—viewing the hundreds of mystery artworks at the preview, and finding your own amongst them. It’s hard to say just why wandering the shelves and musing about who might have made certain pieces is so enjoyable. It might be the dramatically different outputs that people manage to produce within the same, small rectangles. It could just be the sheer volume of works in one space. The small-scale, high-volume formula seems to strike a chord—AWOL gallery’s annual “Square Foot” show had a lineup down the street for its opening night this year. As a participant, it’s interesting to see how your work either fits in with or stands out from the masses. I’ll have to decide if I can brave the sale tomorrow to find out if and when my work gets chosen.

Visitors take in the larger, live auction artworks.

We asked Wil Kucey few more questions to get an organizer’s perspective on “Whodunit?”

Torontoist: How did the concept of a mystery art sale come about?

Kucey: The event is based loosely on a similar fundraising event in the UK, called “RCA Secret,” originated by the Royal College of Art. The idea of being able to highlight great art in a fun and engaging way speaks to the spirit of the OCAD community.



Who is the most unexpected or unusual contributor you've had to the sale?

One of our annual donors who might be a bit unexpected as a visual artist is author Margaret Atwood. In the past we’ve had works donated by David Blackwood, Bobbie Burgers, Ian Carr-Harris, James Lahey, Christopher Pratt, John Scott, Floria Sigismondi, Tom Cochrane, Bruce Cockburn, Burton Kramer, Jesus Mora, Charles Pachter, Andy Fabo, Reinhard Reitzenstein, Gary Taxali, and Atom Egoyan.

How much do you think the chance of acquiring a piece by a notable name influences people's decision to participate in the sale?

It’s definitely a factor; we have some real keeners who line up very early to get first dibs. We’ve had people line up as early as 4 p.m. the night before and camp out (in November!). We open our doors and give out numbers to people who have lined up as early as 6 a.m. so that allows those who have waited in the cold to take a break and get a hot coffee or some breakfast. But there many more people who enjoy buying art in the event because it puts all the work on a level playing field, and they are forced to choose art simply because it speaks to them, rather than worrying about buying art they think is valuable based on the name of an artist. That’s really where the appeal lies in this event, for most of our supporters. But the fact that you could walk away with a treasure you love that also just happens to be created by an a-list artist is the icing on the cake! 


The “Whodunit?” public preview takes place at the OCAD main building at 100 McCaul Street, and ends today at 8 p.m. The sale opens at 10 a.m. tomorrow.

All photos by Michael Chrisman/Torontoist (who also has pieces in the show this year).

No reason's been given for the failure of imagination: just a note that “the concept is still under development with input from GO and YRT,” along with a promise that the final site will be presented at a public open house in a few months' time. The designer for the station on the toll highway will be Aedas, who did the pleasingly aerodynamic design for Sheppard West, so we might expect something similar, but who knows.

Still, this could be the perfect opportunity to sling some ideas the TTC's way. Torontoist thinks the aerial projection of the site plan (above) looks a bit like a huge moth; at a push it could be made into some kind of Batman symbol, perhaps to be projected into the sky to call for help should somebody carelessly dig into a tunnel. Not that this would ever happen, of course.

If the private consortium that runs the highway could be persuaded to part with some of the eight-million-dollar profit they made last quarter, cost would be no object. So, what would you put inside the dotted line?

Renderings courtesy of the TTC.

I wish I could respond with the answer I think you want to read, but I can’t. In short, the Sunday morning subway start time of 9 a.m. won’t be changing anytime soon.

Here’s why.

There are sixty-eight kilometres of subway track in Toronto. Add to that more than six hundred switches and signals. And, of course, the sixty-nine subway stations we maintain.

When the subway closes each night, an army (or maybe it’s a battalion) of maintenance crews descend into the tunnels and begin a wide range of work including: sweeping and cleaning debris from the track to prevent fires; rail and switch inspections; rail and switch replacement where required; repairing decaying tunnel concrete damaged by ground-water leaks; removing asbestos, replacing burned-out lights; re-cabling and replacing the signal system on the Yonge-University-Spadina line with an Automatic Train Control system; and, of course, station cleaning and maintenance that can’t occur when passengers and trains are in the stations.

Much of the work is time-consuming and requires crews to set up in the tunnel for hours at a time. Sunday mornings give our maintenance crews an additional three hours to complete much of the routine and specialized work required to ensure the system remains reliable and safe.

On any given weekday, maintenance crews have just three hours to get to a work location, set up, complete the work, pack up, and return to the yard. Sundays, though, afford us with additional time to complete the routine work but also more complex tasks.

If the TTC were to narrow that Sunday morning maintenance window, some of those complex tasks would not get finished. The result, then, would likely require a disruption to normal service to get the job done; assuming emergency repairs don’t cause us to do that sooner, at a much less convenient time for you, the rider.

Simply put, subway systems require constant and vigilant maintenance. Toronto’s system does not have a network of redundant or express track to fall back on when the mainline needs work. Keeping that Sunday morning window open, therefore, equals a more reliable and safer subway system.

Finally, the TTC does run a network of buses and streetcars on twenty-four routes when the subway is closed—the Blue Night Network. The two routes that replace the subway—320 Yonge and 300 Bloor-Danforth—are the most frequently used routes on the network. The TTC is committed to ensuring people who need to get around, whether at 4 a.m. on Tuesday or 8 a.m. on Sunday, can do so on public transit.

Among the topics to be covered in the class are the norms of masculinity and femininity, how gender is portrayed in the media, power relations between men and women, homosexuality, sexism, transgender issues, equity, and gender-based violence and oppression.

The Miss G Project for Equity in Education, a grassroots young feminist organization campaigning to end oppression in and through education, spearheaded the mission to bring the course into high schools. Sheetal Rawal, co-founder of the project, said the idea developed in 2005 from a conversation between herself and a friend in a dorm room. "[We were] talking about our experiences in high school and those of our younger siblings. We thought it was bizarre that people often don't get a chance to talk about how gender norms and expectations affect their lives until and unless they take particular courses at a post-secondary level."

As Rawal sees it, safety is a big part of what makes the course a necessity. "As recent studies in this province have shown (Falconer, CAMH, Roots of Youth Violence), gender-based violence in schools is ever-present and needs to be addressed through preventative measures. One of those measures is education and creating a safe space for students and teachers to discuss the very real issues present in their personal experiences, their communities, and their lives in general, both within and outside of the classroom."

The course isn’t just for teenagers who are struggling with their gender identity, said Rawal. Gender issues are relevant to everyone, and a broader education in the subject can create a better, more informed, and understanding society.

By the time the classrooms empty out for summer vacation, the goal is that students will be a little less confused about how gender affects their lives and the lives of others. Maybe girls will feel a little more comfortable expressing their individuality, and perhaps boys will give up their macho personas and bust out those razors. Fewer teen-'stashes, at least, would indeed contribute to the betterment of society.

Big thanks to Karen Whaley for drawing our attention to this tidbit.

Motorists who drink this December will have plenty to worry about, since this holiday season will be the first during which Ontario's toughened drunk-driving penalties will be in force. Under the new legislation, effective last May, being pulled over with a blood alcohol level between 0.05 and 0.08 results in a three-day license suspension on a first offense; a seven-day suspension and mandatory driver education on a second offense; and a thirty-day suspension and mandatory treatment program on a third offense.

A tow from Long or any of his subcontractors will cost seventy-five dollars, plus three dollars for every kilometre travelled, meaning that, altruism aside, it's likely to be quite a lucrative holiday sideline—though Long pointed out that parking and cabs are also extremely costly.

Similar services in the GTA—like the charmingly named Safe-T-Ride, or the Durham-based Keys To Us—rent actual, human designated drivers, who chauffeur impaired partygoers home in their own vehicles, for less than the cost of a tow. (Safe-T-Ride quotes thirty-five dollars for the first fifteen kilometres and five dollars for every 4 kilometres thereafter. They say the holiday season is extremely busy.)

Or, you know, you could just take the TTC.

Order a tow from Downtown Towing (and subcontractors) this holiday season by calling 416-GET-HOME (438-4663).

Photos by Christopher Drost/Torontoist

Northfield said that it’s the Globe’s default policy to publish, but that of course exceptions may be made in special circumstances. They don’t publish if they will "knowingly" cause harm to the prisoner, or provide the kidnappers with any information they don’t already have. In Fowler’s case, Northfield does not believe the Canadian media provided any fresh or tactical information to the kidnappers.

Hurst assured the audience that CTV takes these issues very seriously. They discuss, debate, weigh the pros and cons, and reach out to informed parties such as governments and other news sources. He added that the lens should be taken off the Canadian media regarding this incident. The Canadian minister of foreign affairs, the government of Niger, and the UN were the sources responsible for leaking the story, he claimed.

John Cruickshank, Robert Hurst, and Stephen Northfield address a packed Innis Town Hall.

The coverage surrounding Fowler was contrasted with the way the media handled the kidnapping of Melissa Fung, a CBC journalist who was captured and held in Afghanistan roughly two months before Fowler’s story hit the news. Cruickshank, who was head of CBC News at the time, put an embargo on the story, and all other news outlets followed suit. It wasn’t until Fung was released twenty-eight days later that the public learned about the story.

Fowler’s case was an entirely different set of circumstances, Northfield pointed out: in that case, news editors woke up to the story the morning after it had happened. "It’s very hard for us to maintain a blackout when there’s already light," Cruickshank added. Nevertheless, Hurst admits there is a double standard when it comes to the way the media reports on kidnapping cases involving journalists versus cases not involving journalists. "There’s no simple answer to these questions," said Northfield. "I wish there was a rule book."

Fowler sees this as a huge opportunity to create just that: a policy regarding all kidnapping cases. He believes blackouts should be employed in every instance, regardless of whether or not the prisoner is a journalist. But if that’s not possible and the news leaks, he says it’s imperative that reporters and editors talk to those in the know—other media, government, kidnapping experts—before anything goes to print or on the air.

An inquiry launched by the Canadian Press after the Fung incident concluded that no story is worth a life. "I hope this would be the underlying editorial policy of every board," Fowler remarked.

For a refresher on the coverage of Fowler's kidnapping, see the Globe and Mail, the Toronto Star, the CBC, and the National Post.

All photos by Remi Carreiro/Torontoist.

CBC's Don Newman (left) and Beaver's Mark Reid (right) onstage at Indigo.

Starting with Peter Martin's photo of Terry Fox running before dawn during his Marathon of Hope, Reid took the audience on a journey through Canada’s past and told the story behind a sampling of these now-iconic images.

Doug Ball's 1974 photograph of Robert Stanfield fumbling a football arguably changed the nature of the relationship between Canadian politicians and the media. Shortly after the photo, Stanfield and his Tories would go on to lose the election to Trudeau's Liberals. "A political image had never before had this much power," Reid commented. Whether the image influenced the loss or whether the photo represented Stanfield's political freefall is up for debate. Newman argued for the latter: "The air was going out of the Conservative campaign by the time this photo was taken. It represents far more than Bob Stanfield not catching the ball."

#92: "The Shawinigan Handshake," 1996. By Phil Nolan, Global News.

Veronica "Ronnie" Foster (at the very top of this post) became the pin-up girl for the nation's war effort when her photo was taken by the National Film Board of Canada at the height of World War II. "She's a good-looking lady and this photo was a great vehicle for showing what women did in wartime for employment," J.L. Granatstein, author of the companion essay to the photo, explained. Foster worked at the John Inglish Co Ltd plant in Toronto, which produced machinery and weapons. In 1943, Canadians produced 6 vessels, 80 aircraft, 4 thousand trucks and jeeps, 450 armored fighting vehicles, 940 artillery pieces, 13 thousand weapons, 525 thousand military arsenal shells, 25 million cartridges, 10 tonnes of explosives, and $4 million worth of instruments and communications equipment. The image of Foster, smoking while on a quick break from work, became a powerful marketing tool: the NFB used the image to encourage women “to do their part” as the country became entrenched in the war effort.

A surprising inclusion in the book is a photograph of Ethel Catherwood, a member of the 1928 Olympic team. It was the first year women competed in the Olympics, and every female athlete participated in an obligatory beauty contest. "Ethel took home the gold in both the high jump and the beauty pageant, prompting the San Francisco Chronicle to write—I'm paraphrasing here—'Canadian women are a breath of fresh air. Most female athletes have faces like hatchets,'" Reid recalled. "Ethel Catherwood, Nellie McClung, the residential schools apology...this book shows Canadians how far we've come."

Stan Behal, photographer behind #84 "Tarnished Gold."

From Shaney Komulainen's "Standoff at Oka," to Frank Lennon's photograph of Paul Henderson's 1972 Summit series goal, images of conflict, sport, and politics dominated the presentation.

"We wanted to share photos with emotional resonance that are of historical importance," Reid said. "We didn't actively say 'oh, we need three images of World War II' but these photographs are relatable, universal, and helped shape our nation."

Photographer Stan Behal took the time to come down and celebrate; his photograph of Ben Johnson crossing the 100-metre sprint finish line in the 1988 Olympics was one of those featured in the book.

"Inclusion in such a great work is humbling," Behal said. "I'm honoured and delighted."

All photos by Nick Kozak/Torontoist unless otherwise noted.

As a feature documentary, Prom Night in Mississippi is a disappointment. It unfolds as ninety minutes of preaching to the converted, with the Charleston youth unanimously agreeing that racial segregation is an outmoded institution, a dusty relic of pre-Civil Rights America. Like teenagers blaring punk music in defiance of their parents’ Chicago records, many of these kids see racism as old-fashioned, and decry their prevailing adults' attitudes towards segregation and miscegenation. Then again, as Freeman notes after the screening, "children are encouraged to go against the status quo." Nevertheless, while their outlook is refreshing, it comes at the expense of any real discourse.

Photo by Catherine Farquarson.

For a film set in what is presented as one of America’s last remaining holdouts of racial discrimination, there’s very little resembling actual racism here. When a group of parents, upset by the high school’s mixed prom, decide to host a whites-only prom for their children, they refuse to appear on camera (in a fairly telling scene, a lawyer representing these families expresses their shared concern about appearing racist). The exception is the father of a white teenage girl who is dating a black classmate. Though ostensibly every bit the redneck stereotype (he’s even self-conscious enough to acknowledge himself as such), he defies the stereotype of a Bible-belt bigot, stating that he will always love his daughter, even if she chooses to live in a manner that fundamentally clashes with his own upbringing and belief system. In the post-screening Q&A, Saltzman described this man as "one of his heroes" in the film. He’s also about the only character to escape one-dimensional representation. The rest of the time we have a cast of characters—the white kid on the otherwise all-black basketball team, the stern-yet-compassionate principal, the token mixed-race couple—who belt out Saltzman’s sermon regarding racism’s folly with all the delicacy of an Ayn Rand novel.

But Salztman’s message, heavy-handed though it may have been, struck a chord with the audience. Members of the nearly sold-out crowd variously trumped up the film as "brave" and "important," flattering the efforts of both Saltzman and his Oscar-winning guest of honour. But there was a sinister echo in all the applause and scattered standing ovations that followed the screening. The overwhelmingly warm reception seemed to reflect less a shared appreciation of the film’s merits and more a theatre of wealthy, liberal, and mostly white elites celebrating their own enlightened attitudes towards racism.

Indeed, the whole event seemed wildly self-congratulatory, for both the filmmakers and the spectators who paid one hundred dollars per head to attend the screening. Watching the designer-dressed ticketholders trot down a red carpet ceremoniously laid out in the Varsity lobby, smiling widely for a photographer hired to snap photos, seemed an unknowingly ironic inversion of the more modest gala seen at the climax of Prom Night.

Ultimately, Prom Night in Mississippi is a difficult proposition. It’s tricky to evaluate a film noble in intention that is so clumsily executed. It’s the worst kind of documentary filmmaking in that it’s telling you what to think instead of stimulating independent thought. As such, it’s unlikely to change any prevailing attitudes towards racism amongst adults habituated to their own ways of thinking, but considering Saltzman’s pedagogical aim—the one-hundred-dollar ticket price for the event subsidized educational DVD packages to be screened in schools, both in the U.S. and Canada—it may encourage children and teenagers to break the cycle of discrimination.

At the very least, Freeman’s gesture has changed the lives of children growing up in Charleston. When asked if the high school has continued the tradition of a mixed prom into 2009, Freeman nodded and laughed, "They wanted me to fund it!"

The better news amidst all of that is that, as of September 2010, "anyone enrolled in a post-secondary degree or diploma granting program," as the TTC's release defines it, now qualifies for a student Metropass at the TTC's student rate—for a significant part of Toronto's population, in other words, a Metropass next year will be at least $10 cheaper than it was before.

Then again, at least one adult was lucky enough to get a discount well into next year anyway: Spacing's Todd Harrison, who discovered a loophole in the Metropass Discount Plan that let him sign up for the Plan, today, for a year, for $100 a month. (That loophole is now closed: effective Wednesday, the TTC's Director of Communications Brad Ross told us earlier today, "we will only be signing up new MDP subscribers for January 2010.")

As we showed in our look at how adult fares have changed over the past thirty years, this hike—fair or not—was relatively predictable, which is why it makes sense that the reaction to the hike on Twitter so far has been largely intelligent and measured, with many riders understanding that the TTC's move was a necessary, rather than a frivolous, one. Haha, just kidding; it's Twitter. What's that, djkidsupraa?

djkidsupraa is not sayin'; he's just sayin'.

In Toronto, this is what happens when you charge people one-quarter of a dollar more for something.

CORRECTION: NOVEMBER 17, 2009 This article originally said that the fare increase was effective January 3, 2010 "barring City Council voting against the decision"; in fact, as Brad Ross explained in an email tonight, "The Commission makes that call [on fare increases]. Council cannot overturn the decision." Our mistake was the result of citing a CP24 story, which concluded by claiming that "Toronto City Council has to approve the changes before they can take effect." (CP24's article has since been updated to omit the sentence.)

UPDATE: NOVEMBER 18, 2009 The TTC's press release contained incorrect information about the price of an Adult MDP Metropass and VIP Metropass; the new costs were listed as $110 and $106, respectively, when they'll actually cost a dollar more each (sacrilege!) as of January 3, 2010.

Sadface. (Fan reaction comment from Hostage Life's MySpace)

So, the record. Centre of the Universe is a musically explosive and intellectually ambitious (the band has written big ol' personal and philosophical essays for each song) behemoth dressed in catchy pop-punk clothing. It's full of nods to the crunchy, catchy past that plastered them all over modern rock radio and heavy Muchmusic rotation a few years ago, but by letting the guitars breathe (peace out, cheap distortion) and even slowing down (well, sort of, sometimes), the band finds a maturity that bridges their distinct classic-'70s snarl ("Bonfires," streaming above) with the airtight modern structures of other Clash-borns Green Day and Rancid ("Ratlines") and even some straight-up sludgy guitar rock that Bob Pollard could dig on a good day ("Nuclear"). It's the record that's been brewing in them for years—forever, really—and hearing the true conviction, joy, and momentum behind this defining performance should evoke, if nothing else, a respectful and universal holy shit. It doesn't matter if you've never considered yourself a fan of Hostage Life, but if you know or care about their contribution to the southern Ontario punk community, this is worth a listen.

What are you talking about, Underground Operations manages Stereos now! (Fan reaction comment from Hostage Life's MySpace)

So, the dirt. In an interview with Chartattack late last week, drummer Paul Miller explained that "[The decision] came about because [vocalist] Colin had to get away from band life for a good long while. All people really need to know is that there are no busted feelings and this was something that we had to do." Torontoist wishes all well.

He's got a point. See also: The Police. (Fan reaction comment from Hostage Life's MySpace)

Hostage Life play their last show this Friday, November 20 at Sneaky Dee's with The Little Millionaires and others. Show is at 8 p.m. and costs priceless dollars...Or, more accurately, $5. Download Centre of the Universe from Juicebox Recording Co. for however much or little you would like.

German Cemetery, Vermandovillers, Somme, Picardie, France, 2006.

Carrière set about recreating the original photographs, in colour, to avoid the nostalgia that comes with contemporary black and white photography on the subject of war. He was taken aback by what he found. “I was struck by the sadness of the place…of how people would keep things as they were in 1919 right after the war and didn’t want to touch it in many ways. Or the amount of money that was put into some places to rebuild exactly how it was before the war.”

The idea is not new. “Then and Now” photographs contrasting battlefields and war-ravaged cityscapes with the way they appear today have been done before. To commemorate the twentieth anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, the New York Times recently featured an interactive slideshow that allows you to transition images back and forth between 1989 and 2009.

Carrière acknowledges that his endeavour was not completely unique or inventive, and he soon found the scope of his ambition to be rather limiting. “We’ve seen many projects of re-photographing sites and, although it is involving, it became a little too repetitious at some point.” It was therefore at this point that he began to wander thematically, leaving the approach of “album as tour guide” and embarking on his own journey. In trying to find these original sites, he found a different project that would produce the photographs that came to occupy the bulk of the exhibition.

Hill 62, Sanctuary Wood, Zillebeke, Flandres, Belgium, 2007.

“I came to realize it’s not so much about the war. It’s not the war that interested me as much as occupied land. A place that has been scarred by history. That was the real jumping-off point for me.” This altered focus created a shift from "human history as told through landscapes" as the primary subject to "landscapes as they are marked by violence." It’s a subtle shift, but it’s what creates the powerful, disquieting effect of the works. It positions war as an intervention, rather than as author. These are not ponds; they’re the circular remains of explosions. These are not soft ridges; they’re the lingering scars of trench warfare.

Although now of less importance to the project, Carrière’s research into the owner of the original photographs, whose name—Fletcher Wade Moses—was printed in the album, revealed a stubbornly mysterious character. Originally from Surrey, England, where he lived under the name Harding, he came to Canada after the war. At this point, he appears to have shortened his name to Fletcher Wade and settled north of Montreal. He established a photography business and was likely hoping to sell the images as a commercial stock portfolio. Carrière now believes that he must have purchased many of the photos in the collection, as no one person could have covered that much territory and survived at that time. The confusion around him remains unresolved, which does not bother Carrière in the least. “I’m happy I didn’t find him, because he remains a mystery. I hope I never find him, in a way, because he’s more interesting as a mystery than as a revelation.”

The only weakness of the exhibition may be the transition from the artist’s original intent to retrace another man’s steps to this more free-form exploration of “occupied land.” The tangible premise slips through your fingers as you dive into the story behind the works, still packaged under the banner of “Lieux Mêmes.” Perhaps, though, it simply requires a more lateral perspective on the idea of the same place. These are images of places that are the same yet different, bearing the burdens of violent enterprise that time can only hope to ease.

“Lieux Mêmes” is on display until this Saturday, November 21.

All images © Bertrand Carrière and courtesy of the Stephen Bulger Gallery.

Let's start with Peterborough, which plays Ann Arbor, Michigan, in the flick. True story: Ann Arbor and Peterborough are actually sister cities! Despite a little digital paintwork, locals had zero trouble spotting the landmark water tower.

There's a nicer view down Kenneth Avenue here.

In an early scene, young Jumper Dude (soon to be TO's own Hayden Christensen) falls into a frozen pond (actually in Ann Arbor!) but then he realizes he can instantaneously transport himself just about anywhere, starting with the main branch of the Peterborough Library.

Having a little fun, Christensen robs a bank and bad dude Sam Jackson comes to check it out. But as we see from the exterior on Bay Street…

…and the interior, this is the Canada Permanent Trust building.

Sometimes Reel Toronto likes to play detective, and sometimes we just like a gimme. So this bar (ostensibly in London) is actually, um, the Irish Embassy on Yonge Street.

The more bohemian set might recognize this one as the Green Room, off Brunswick.

We also get to see the patio.

We know they shot something in High Park, so we presume it's this jungle scene.

There's a big finale scene at this here apartment. Humble it may be, but it's actually out on Gamble Avenue.

Jumper's a bit of a weird animal because while they shot some other interesting bits (at U of T's Knox College and a "Seattle" scene in Peterborough, for example), the film got changed around and re-shot in parts before its release. No big loss.

In all fairness, Rachel McAdams and Drake are a lot more virulent than any flu.

Toronto's Inferiority Complex

Oh well, at least the internet thinks we're better than Vancouver and Montreal. (The highlighted query is a misquoted line from an episode of 30 Rock.)

Cold Comfort

We can blame this one on that Coors Light ad.

What the Funk?

After this summer's city workers' strike, Tourism Toronto launched a new campaign with the slogan: "Toronto never smelled so good." It looks like it's had an impact.

Then Again

...That was a lot of garbage.

Something in the Water

Perhaps Toronto doesn't have the third-best tap water in North America after all.

Go Leafs Go?

We're surprised there aren't more results for this one.

UofT is the Place To Be!

Not that anyone at Torontoist would know anything about this.

The Idiot Syndrome

Google Suggest can also provide useful information about local and federal politicians.

American Stylez

Of course, Google.com, which is mostly fed by U.S. queries, has its own flavour. We don't remember what state Toronto is in, but we'll write our congressperson and find out. And as for the city's providence, we always suspected that Toronto was blessed by God.