Taddle Me No Tales

by John P.M. Court (1998. 2020) 1

Universities and government bodies more than any other classes of institution in recent history have enjoyed access to the corpus of scientific and applied knowledge that would enable them to act as exemplary stewards of the environment. For various reasons – in general, a readiness to defer to other considerations that crop up – they have often lagged behind, rather than led the way, in the practical application of that knowledge. The relationship between ’s physical environment and the university campuses evolving within it began to falter when the (U of T) built a dam across Taddle Creek in 1855, creating McCaul's Pond. Tranquillity reigned over this landscape for a quarter of a century. Its pastoral beauty, contrasting with the rapid urbanization steadily expanding around it, was evocatively captured in local song, poetry, folklore, campus customs such as frosh dunkings during initiations, early scenic photos and Lucius O'Brien's celebrated, 1876 painting.1 Then, as Professor Douglas Richardson explains: “Toronto Baptist College, later McMaster University, overwhelmed an already polluted stream in 1881 by discharging the sewage from McMaster Hall, its new home on Bloor Street, into the Taddle.” By 1884 the pond and creek had become such an aesthetic disgrace and health hazard that Dr. William Canniff, who earned renown as the city’s first full- time, salaried Medical Officer of Health, insisted that the Taddle be channeled underground into a sewer.2

What went amiss? Then as now, most institutions did not need to concern themselves with the subsurface quality of running water that simply passed by or through their properties – the water being transitory by nature. The clear exceptions that create at least a moral and sometimes legal obligation to take some responsibility occur when the institution modifies the watercourse with some physical intervention, or otherwise makes use of the water itself. (Another exception involves an owner voluntarily signing on to a watershed-wide conservation partnership, as did Glendon College in 1996 for the watershed, but this is a distinctly recent phenomenon.) U of T intervened with the Taddle in both respects: constructing a coffer (barrier) dam with flood gates to modify the campus landscape via a

1 CAMH Corporate Archivist; Associate Professor [History], Department of Psychiatry and Institute of Medical Science, Faculty of Medicine, University of Toronto. 2 picturesque setting of a pond in elegant parkland alongside their magnificent, new University College (UC) building; and sanctioning immersions into the pond and stream in the manner of a swimming pool, at least during the annual student initiations.

By late in the twentieth century the university and urban environmentalists seemed to feel the Taddle’s loss more keenly, as the notion of a downtown campus watercourse evoked both nostalgia and modern enhancement ideas. These were buttressed through part of the original Taddle route having survived as a campus ravine parkette, albeit one with structural encroachments, called Philosophers’ Walk. Along with this nostalgia have come various attempts to explain the stream’s sudden, ignominious demise more than a century ago. As with Professor Richardson’s explicit description of the cause, the finger seems to be pointed more often than not toward factors external to the university notwithstanding that it intervened to create the pond which, as with this stretch of the creek, existed on private U of T property. The usual suggestion is that the watercourse’s degradation resulted from community environmental issues that were largely beyond the university’s control, along the lines of “ ‘the stench and fever from the Taddle’ caused by discarded refuse and dead animals.” 3 A 1981 U of T publication ignored McMaster Hall (long since acquired for the university) as a factor in favour of pollution from the village of Yorkville, exacerbated by: “Townsfolk [who] used the pond for the execution and disposal of pets.”4 Still more recently, their alumni/ae magazine in 1995 ascribed the source of the creek’s problems in vague, generic terms as simply “pollution.”5 Like any institution concerned with its reputation while trying to come to grips with an often colourful history, U of T may be understandably anxious to minimize the fallout from this historical blemish on its campus environment.

A survey of archival and published documentary sources indicates that in fact the long-ago decline from cherished landscape to buried sewer was precipitated by a range of factors, both internal and external to the university:

 The problems causing the pond-stream degradation were allowed to fester over many years before any concerted remedial action was launched.

 U of T shared in responsibility for the location of McMaster Hall, having sold the site in 1880 from its land-banked campus holdings for a relatively modest consideration to one of its own associates, acting on behalf of the Toronto Baptist College (TBC). 3

 The site chosen for this new development lay a short distance upstream from the heart of the campus and overlapped into the Taddle’s stream valley, even though U of T had identified other, more compatible uses for the valley and had a considerable range of campus tableland sites still available.

 Enjoying close personal links to U of T, and while flirting with its formal affiliation overtures (never consummated), TBC accepted the design and installation of a new sewage disposal system that was less than state-of- the-art, thereby worsening the Taddle’s environmental conditions.

 And finally, U of T’s responses throughout the early 1880s to the identified public health crisis continued to lack a sense of urgency; moreover they focused on some but not all of the causes and culprits while using the city’s remediation proposals as a bargaining chip in town-versus- gown political squabbles with Toronto and Yorkville municipal officials.

From the 1850s until a year or so before its diversion underground in 1884 both McCaul’s Pond and the Taddle, also known as “the University Creek” were fundamental to the university’s physical and mental landscape. They provided a parkland setting for both the contemplative and recreational aspects of campus life. It became the picturesque haven intended by UC’s architects, Cumberland and Storm, in counterpoint to campus buildings and the city, farmland and the remaining wooded areas nearby. An 1868 U of T graduate recalled of their president many decades later that: “Dr. McCaul was fond of wandering around the park, surveying the pond named after him and the Taddle stream flowing in and out of it (where Hart House now stands).”6 Then, as the Town of Yorkville’s population expanded beginning in the 1860s, linked to Toronto by a horse-drawn street railway down Yonge Street, the pond “rapidly became a holding tank for all the sewage discharged into Taddle Creek” by its upstream residents. The university’s response, however, was largely or wholly confined to tackling the effects rather than the cause: “There are frequent references in university records to money expended [on the pond for]‘removing nuisance’.” 7

In 1880 the Toronto Baptist College was established as the theological branch of the Canadian Literary Institute. Founded two decades earlier in Woodstock, as an independent, denominational institution, it was partly a response to others of similar conception such as Queen’s 4 (Presbyterian, Kingston),Trinity (Anglican, Toronto) and Victoria (Methodist, Cobourg until 1891). TBC was largely the creation and beneficiary of Toronto’s William McMaster whose business success was capped by the founding presidency of the Canadian Bank of Commerce. McMaster had also been active and well connected for over three decades in Ontario public and political life, notably on the national scene as a Liberal Party senator and locally as the celebrated force and grand patron of his denomination’s leading temple, Jarvis Street Baptist Church. As well he had occupied since 1873 one of the slots allocated at the time for external (non- academic) volunteers on the U of T Senate. In 1880 an authorized biographical publication recorded his previous donations to the Woodstock institution which “is now to be moved to Toronto where a building is to be erected for its accommodation, to which Mr. McMaster contributes the further large sum of sixty thousand dollars.”8 By 1886 a similar squib boasted that he was “chairman of the board of trustees of the Baptist College, which was erected and furnished by him at an expense of over $100,000.” 9 When the senator died the following year his will provided an additional endowment through the bulk of his estate amounting to almost $1 million.10

Thus it came about that U of T’s Board of Management (a forerunner of the Board of Trustees, 1884-1906, subsequently the Board of Governors) approved the land sale on 31 March 1880: “Deed to Hon. Wm. McMaster of lot on south side of Bloor Street, west of Creek, for Baptist Theo. College.” 11 William Mulock, a lawyer volunteer and Member of Parliament who frequently filled in as the board’s chair until appointed to the position (and Vice Chancellor) in 1881, moved in the same business and Liberal Party circles as McMaster and was a fellow member, 1873-78, of the U of T Senate.12 Mulock was also the “primary force” for U of T’s efforts, largely successful, to woo the denominational and professional colleges into federation during the 1880s.13 The Board of Management’s 1880 land sale was their last occasion to make official reference either to McMaster himself or the TBC, notwithstanding numerous minute book entries (and pasted-in press clippings) over the next four years concerning the creek’s pollution problems and eventual channeling underground.

As indicated by the extract of an 1871 city directory map reproduced here for the campus area, there was ample property remaining for new university buildings and any others that U of T might choose to accommodate through sale or lease. In fact much of it was leased out over the next three decades for prime residential building lots to wealthy citizens such as the Woods, Flavelles and Masseys, as well as for institutions to which the 5 university wished to be closely allied such as TBC, Victoria College and the future .

As the thin edge of the wedge TBC was the first of several, followed by others in the twentieth century, whose boundaries were permitted to overlap into the university stretch of the Taddle Creek valley. Notwithstanding the influence of Senator McMaster, who may well have been attracted to the Bloor-Taddle site’s scenic amenity value, Mulock and the Board of Management might rather have steered him toward their ample holdings of tableland. There had been 50- to 100-year regional storms with “disastrous” flooding in April of 1850 and again in September of 1878, each rivaling or exceeding the force of Hurricane Hazel in 1954,14 that should have given rise to questions concerning the wisdom of developing on the slopes and bottomland of the city’s river and stream valleys. Moreover the university had itself identified a scholarly use for the creek corridor that would have been more sympathetic to its natural character, in much the same manner as parkland elsewhere in the valley, and considerably more so than allowing developmental encroachments – namely, a botanical gardens. That proposal had been made in the early 1850s, reaffirmed in 1878, and by 1906 despite the loss of the creek itself and much of its land base, was still recommended as a worthwhile concept by the “Flavelle Commission” that reported on academic and administrative matters for U of T. The commission, however, went on to admonish the university’s administrators against disposing of, or developing any more of this resource: “It seems scarcely fitting that any portion of this fine piece of land should be filled in and used for buildings.” 15

A few months after acquiring the Bloor-Taddle property William McMaster turned once again to the well-known architectural firm of Langley, Langley & Burke. They had designed and overseen the construction for him and his wife, Susan Moulton McMaster of Jarvis Street Baptist Church in 1874 and their Bloor Street East home in 1877.16 The architects prepared drawings in June that were approved under “our Contracts with the Hon. William McMaster dated July 14th, 1880.”17 The site plan (with signoff signatures) specified a lone combined drain (one to carry both sewage and stormwater runoff). A glazed pipe 9” in diameter would run from the rear of the main building, directly behind the later chapel addition (now concert hall), for 40 feet southeastward to a “cesspit,” 5 x 2 feet in size, and thence by an identical pipe in the same direction for the last twenty feet into the creek. Was it built? The fact that it was constructed (supported by accounts of deteriorating water quality commencing in 1881) is verifiable from a subsequent “Plan Showing Drain and Steam Pipes” among the as-built 6 drawings of “McMaster University, Present Buildings”.18

(Architectural site plan drawing of the drain and location: ref. Court, 2003 – “Ontario History” journal article, Fig 15, p177 and note 55, p188)

This was a curious approach, not just for its manifest failure to sustain the college’s own and neighbouring environments but in light of the evolved state of sewage technology. Heather MacDougall has noted that cesspools along with privies were by then considered “rudimentary,” accompanied as they were by “disease and discomfort”. By 1882-83 they were targeted as the foremost problems facing both the Provincial and Local Boards of Health and the chief official for the latter in Toronto, Dr. Canniff. 19 For major buildings, connections to street and trunk sewers, with lengthy conduits where necessary, were steadily replacing privies and cesspools. Going back 35 years, John George Howard had set the standard for servicing a large, institutional building in a remote location. As a civil engineer retained by the city for various sewer construction projects as well as an eminent architect, Howard from the outset in 1845 declined to consider the local creeks as a disposal route for the Provincial Lunatic Asylum (now Queen Street Mental Health Centre in successor buildings on the same site).20 The largest public building for its era in Canada West, the Asylum not only lacked a deep- pocketed benefactor but endured the pressures of capital cost restraint during its design and construction phases, battling the perception that as a provincial institution it was a political plum for Toronto.21

Nevertheless Howard was aware of the professional standard, not disproved until the end of the 1880s (and still all too common today in the absence of treatment plants), that the only satisfactory alternative to a sewer connection was a direct conduit to a large body of rapidly moving water.22 Accordingly, after resolving some mechanical problems that had come to a head during the first few years of settling in, by 1863 the Asylum’s second (and most renowned) Medical Superintendent could report that Howard’s sewer plan was a success:

The sewerage and drainage of the Asylum and its grounds are now efficient and substantial. The main-sewer, from the building to the Lake, is about ¾ of a mile long, with a total fall of about 15 feet. It is well built of hard brick, egg-shape, and of ample dimensions. It is flushed by every rain, as all the weeping drains receiving the roof water discharge into it. The depth of its bottom, at the building, is about 15 feet from the surface of the land. The watercloset drains are 7 directly discharged into the main drain – the drains extending farther into the basement are well trapped.23

Not surprisingly, given the province’s closely-knit leadership circles, soon after the Asylum opened in 1850 William McMaster turned up for a brief stint on its governing Board of Directors.24 Their second Superintendent, the esteemed Dr. Joseph Workman, along with most of his colleagues and the emerging profession of sanitation engineers, were by then well aware of the direct link between a healthy populace and illness prevention on the one hand, and pure drinking water, good sewage arrangements and generally clean, germ-free environments. In 1855, for example, England’s Dr. James Snow had proved that the Broad Street water pump in London was spreading cholera.25 Dr. Workman and others demonstrated their contemporary awareness of such knowledge, as in the case of his 1857 report: “Since the general cleansing of the establishment, and the completion of the drainage, not a single case of fatal dysentery has occurred, and very few cases, even of the mildest form, have been observed. Erysipelas [a streptococcal infection] has entirely disappeared; and under the blessing of Providence, in the last visit of Asiatic Cholera in this city, the Asylum entirely escaped this dreadful scourge. The deaths which now occur in the Asylum are not ascribable to any morbific agency peculiar to the house or the locality.”26

From 1832 when public health measures were first advocated in Toronto and continuing through the 1880s, the city suffered numerous epidemics of cholera, typhoid fever and dysentery along with periodic outbreaks of malaria. It became increasingly accepted that their onsets were linked to poor sanitation practices and filthy conditions. The public health situation was exacerbated by frequent onsets of other ailments, notably smallpox, diphtheria and scarlet fever. Although the causes of the latter three would not now be related as directly to poor sanitation, Dr. Canniff categorized them among the “filth diseases”.27 Despite the enormous weight of tragedy, misery and financial costs to which they collectively led, sanitation reformers nevertheless faced steady resurgences of opposition from a host of parsimonious politicians and influential ratepayers. As Toronto’s first permanent Medical Health Officer in the 1880s, Canniff was regularly “defeated by a municipal government which had always been loath to interfere in private matters of sanitation and which generally found urban expansion and low rates of taxation preferable to expensive public health projects.”28 Plus ça change…

8 With the completion and opening of McMaster Hall in 1881 complaints about the creek gave cause to U of T’s bursar, J.E. Berkeley Smith, to place the matter on the Board of Management’s September agenda. Their sole response was to write to the reeve of Yorkville. A month later they met with city representatives who wanted to discuss opening public roads through the campus. (The meeting was reported via a detailed newspaper account – one of several that was pasted into the U of T board’s minute book without comment, hence evidently accurate from their standpoint.) The board members decided to negotiate for a quid pro quo, informing the city that any discussion of roads must await resolving the matter of “a sewer along University Creek in order to remove the nuisance created by the drainage from Yorkville.” With what might strike some as breathtaking hypocrisy, after two decades of responding ineffectually to the worsening condition of Taddle Creek while allowing their students to go on plunging into it, U of T president Daniel Wilson proceeded to lecture the city representatives that: “It would be a dreadful thing if typhoid fever perhaps should break out in the University or Baptist College on account of the filthy condition of the creek.” The city engineer had come prepared. He estimated that 200 yards of the creek, at six dollars per yard, would need to be sewered. Although U of T had raised tuition fees and consistently posted an annual operating surplus throughout that era, while also enjoying a substantial endowment from the ongoing sale of public land grants (225,944 acres around the province), its board told the city that it could not afford to pay. The city officials pointed out that the creek was on private university property, hence was not their responsibility. Moreover they felt that the university’s costs should be shared by negotiating with its lessees of building lots around the campus and by the village of Yorkville.29 And so the matter was left unresolved.

The board’s next monthly meeting had been preceded by at least one student’s complaint about the initiation rite of dunking, and a critical note in the student newspaper: “The stench arising from the Taddle is very pronounced. The prevalence of so much fever in the city is surely a good reason for the prompt abatement of this long standing nuisance.” 30 Dunking was allowed to continue for another year, however, until November of 1882. The board’s 17 November 1881 agenda included a report from one James Hathaway that purported to name Yorkville residents whose sewage spilled into the creek. They agreed to notify them to discontinue, otherwise “proceedings will be taken.” Three weeks later a news item outlined findings by the city engineer. Yorkville was indeed the main source of the problem, but not the only one; the Baptist College’s sewage was also draining into the creek. “The stream was in a much fouler condition… than it has been during 9 the past nine years. The health of all parties living in the neighbourhood of the Creek being endangered, the city commissioner was of the opinion that a sewer was most imperatively needed, and if one could not be put in at once the Yorkville sewerage should be cut off without delay.” The assessment commissioner reported a need for 7,554 feet of sewer (a significant increase from the October estimate) and since university property was not liable for assessment, recommended that they split the costs equally with the city. 31

This stalemate continued off and on for another two and one half years. In July, 1882 the board held a heated but unsuccessful meeting with the deputy reeve of Yorkville. Although he sympathetically took the brunt of the university’s grievances, his municipality was soon to be amalgamated into the city and his fellow councillors were intransigent in the meantime on the issue of the costs. At intervals until November of 1883 the board also received correspondence on this matter from William Campbell, a residential lessee backing on the creek where the museum would later be placed. 32 More significant pressure was brought to bear by the newly appointed Provincial Board of Health. The chairman, Dr. William Oldright (in later years a professor of hygiene and associate professor of clinical surgery on the university's medical faculty) made a special report in June of 1882, “Regarding Sewerage, Disposal of Sewage, and Water Supply in Toronto”. After brief preliminaries he led off by observing that: “Several localities in the city have become very offensive by reason of sewage discharging into channels which were originally natural watercourses, but which have now become open sewers. The chief of these are the University Creek [and two others]…” The Oldright report was published the following year in the provincial board’s First Annual Report… for the Year 1882.33

Ultimately, three years after the sewage discharged by McMaster Hall began exacerbating an already untenable environmental health hazard, the city and the university came to terms. At its May 1st meeting in 1884 the U of T board considered a letter from the city solicitor on the matter of the “University Creek Sewer”. It was “referred to the Vice Chancellor to give the necessary assent on behalf of the University.”34 Construction work began soon after, and the creek went underground while the memory of its early promise lived on.

The Flavelle Commission’s recommendation to execute the botanical gardens concept on that site (a proposal that was revived again in 1920) was never taken up along the Taddle,35 nor elsewhere until the idea enjoyed a short-lived “flowering” at Glendon Hall during the 1950s.36 The former 10 stream corridor was destined instead for a mix of recreational uses and spillover of the back side of buildings. For five years beginning in 1898 the university installed a golf course comprising 11 holes on what remained of its open space north of Hoskin Avenue. Six holes were laid out along, or intersecting with the ravine, doubtless resulting in the removal of rocks, trees and other natural impediments in their path. But the forward march of progress soon took other forms. “By 1903,” as a U of T athletics’ historian explained, “there were complaints of the encroachment of buildings affecting the course and before long the Varsity Golf Club ceased to be.” 37

The last word here should appropriately belong to the university’s 1906 official history. Just over two decades after matters had come to a nasty head, President James Loudon replaced the earlier scenes of physical disgrace and official bickering by launching the initial wave of bucolic nostalgia. “The grounds are, roughly speaking, bisected from north to south by a shallow ravine through which there once ran a stream, the Taddle. The latter has disappeared in the drainage system of a great city, but the ravine, though filled in at intervals for roadways or for buildings, still serves pleasingly to diversify the University grounds.”38 …………………………….……….

1 University of Toronto Archives (UTA), art collection: watercolour, 1876, by Lucius O’Brien (1832-1899), the founding President four years later of the Royal Canadian Academy of Arts.

2 Douglas Scott Richardson, A Not Unsightly Building: University College and Its History. Oakville: Mosaic Press for University College, 1990, 52, 120.

3 Quoted by Robert Steedman, “Historical Streams of Toronto,” in Toronto Field Naturalist, No. 382, October 1986, 17.

4 Ian Montagnes, Taddle Tale, U of T pamphlet, 1981, n.p.

5 Alfred Holden, “Taddle Creek: Lost to View but Found in Memory,” in University of Toronto Magazine, Winter 1995, 42-3.

6 E.M. Bigg, “Some Reminiscences of the [Eighteen] Sixties,” in University of Toronto Monthly, XXIX:6, March 1929, 224.

7 Richardson, op.cit., 14, 119.

8 The Canadian Biographical Dictionary and Portrait Gallery of Eminent and Self-made Men, Ontario Volume. Chicago; Toronto: American Biographical Pub. Co., 1880, 166-71. Courtesy CIHM: Early Canadiana Online (ECO).

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9 George Maclean Rose, A Cyclopaedia of Canadian Biography… Toronto: Rose Pub. Co., 1886, 464. Courtesy ECO.

10 Unsigned, “A History of McMaster to 1928: Dr. C.M. Johnston’s Book is in Manuscript,” in McMaster News, 44:1, Winter 1974, 2-6. G. Mercer Adam, Toronto, Old and New: A Memorial Volume. Toronto: Mail Printing Company, 1891, 120. Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH, Toronto) Archives.

11 UTA, Board of Management Minutes, A70-0024/006: 31 March 1880, Vol. 1, 306-7.

12 Rose, op.cit., 519-20.

13 R.E. Babe, entry on Sir William Mulock in The Canadian Encyclopedia, Vol. 3, 1401. Also ref. Nathaniel Burwash, “The Development of the University, 1853 – 1887,” in The University of Toronto and Its Colleges, 1827 – 1906. Toronto: University of Toronto Library, published by the Librarian, 1906, Chapter II.

14 Metropolitan Toronto & Region Conservation Authority, Minutes, 1957, 226.

15 “Report of the Commission of 1905-6,” in The University of Toronto and Its Colleges, 1827 – 1906, ibid, Appendix K, 287. The province had appointed the Royal Commission on the University of Toronto [“Flavelle Commission”] by Order-in-Council 53/389 on 3 October 1905 under the Ontario Public Inquiries Act.

16 Eric Arthur, rev. by S.A. Otto, Toronto: No Mean City. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1986, 254.

17 Archives of Ontario (AO), Horwood Fonds; Langley, Langley & Burke Sous-fonds: Original contract drawings, Baptist Theological College, C11-632-0-1 (611)1, Site Plan [K-90].

18 AO: Burke, Horwood & White Sous-fonds: C11-1032 dated ca.1908-19. The “Old D.P.” [drain pipe] is marked in its original, 1880 location, with an arrow from it indicating a subsequent move to the “Present Drain to Ravine” installed after the buried Taddle Creek sewer replaced the “cesspit” and the “creek.”

19 Heather A. MacDougall, Health is Wealth: The Development of Public Health Activity in Toronto, 1834 – 1890. Toronto: University of Toronto doctoral dissertation, 1982, 363, 378, 379, 391-2. In this excellent thesis the candidate has, with understandable diplomacy, elected not to refer to her alma mater and its problems along the Taddle.

20 National Archives (NA): Correspondence between the Provincial Secretary, the Commission for Erecting the Provincial Lunatic Asylum and the architect John G. Howard; Howard to the Commission Chairman, 20 March 1847; CAMH Archives.

21 The Toronto Globe, 9 September 1848, refuted charges published by the Niagara Chronicle that plans for the Asylum were too expensive and ornamental for a poor, thinly settled country, 12

“being more like a palace to ornament the rising city of Toronto.” CAMH Archives..

22 MacDougall, op.cit., 367.

23 NA: [British] Colonial Office 42, vol. 638, reel B-455, 207: Report of the Medical Superintendent [Dr. Joseph Workman], Provincial Lunatic Asylum, 1863. CAMH Archives..

24 Ontario, Third Annual Report of the Directors of the Provincial Lunatic Asylum at Toronto, with the Report of the Medical Superintendent. Toronto: 1853. CAMH Archives..

25 Charles Godfrey, MD, John Rolph: Rebel with Causes. Madoc, Ont.: Codam Publishing, 1993, 121.

26 Ontario, Report of the Medical Superintendent of the Provincial Lunatic Asylum at Toronto dated 1 March 1857. Legislative Assembly Reports, 20 Victoria, Appendix No. 12. CAMH Archives..

27 MacDougall, op.cit., 222-3 et passim.

28 Robert Steedman, “Water Supply and Sanitation in Toronto,” in Toronto Field Naturalist, No. 383, November 1986, 24; also ref. MacDougall, op.cit., 363; and Elwood Jones & Douglas McCalla, “The Toronto Waterworks, 1840-77: Continuity and Change in Nineteenth Century Toronto Politics," in The Canadian Historical Review, 60:3 (Sept. 1979), 300-323.

29 UTA, Board of Management Minutes, op.cit.: Vol. 2, 23 Sept. and 28 Oct. 1881; F.A. Mouré, “Outline of the Financial History of the University,” in The University of Toronto and Its Colleges, 1827 – 1906, op.cit., Chapter IV.

30 UTA: The Varsity, U of T student newspaper, 4 November 1881.

31 UTA, Board of Management Minutes, op.cit.: Vol. 2, 17 November and 8 December 1881.

32 UTA, Board of Management Minutes, ibid.: Vol. 2, 13 July 1882 and 6 November 1883.

33 Ontario, Legislative Assembly, First Annual Report of the Provincial Board of Health of Ontario being for the Year 1882. Toronto: printed by C. Blackett Robinson, 1883, Appendix D, Article V. CAMH Archives..

34 UTA, Board of Management Minutes, op.cit.: Vol. 2, 1 May 1884.

35 Richardson, op.cit., 54 (caption for illustr. 4.7).

36 John P.M. Court, “Glendon Hall and the Canadian Rose Society,” in The Canadian Rose Annual: Journal of the Canadian Rose Society, 1993, 31 - 43.

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37 T.A. Reed, The Blue and White: A Record of Fifty Years of Athletic Endeavour at the University of Toronto. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1944, 183-4.

38 James Loudon, “Buildings and Equipment,” in The University of Toronto and Its Colleges, 1827 – 1906, op.cit., 206.