trade with the English on the south side of Lake Ontario.
Natives named the fort Toronto, meaning “Place of Meeting.” That fort was burned by the French when it became evident that the British might take it over. An obelisk erected on the actual site, and a concrete outline in the grass of Fort Rouille, just west of the bandshell on the CNE grounds, is all that is left to tell the tale.
The British were anxious to own this new territory and negotiated with the Natives in 1787 for the land that the city of Toronto now occupies. Natives still contend that ownership of the Toronto Islands was never negotiated in the treaty, named “Toronto Purchase.” This treaty encompassed an area stretching 23 kilometres (14 miles) along Lake Ontario and running northward for 48 kilometres (30 miles). In return for this, the British paid the Natives 1,700 pounds sterling and 149 barrels of goods (axes, cloth, and blankets). One year later, the southern section of land was surveyed for a townsite.
It wasn’t actually settled until 1793, when John Graves Simcoe established Fort York. Simcoe called the new settlement York, in honour of the son of George III of England.
At noon, on August 27, 1793, Simcoe ordered the first royal salute to be fired to celebrate the birth of the capital of Upper Canada. To pay homage to such status, Upper Canada’s first “government house” was a canvas tent. Three years later the first parliament buildings were constructed at Front and Berkeley Streets. Unfortunately, the buildings were burned to the ground by American forces during the War of 1812. Little York defended itself bravely during the war against the American force of 2,400 soldiers. However, the Americans won the day after an eight hour battle. Not satisfied with winning, American soldiers torched York’s public building and temporarily occupied the town until the British regained control.
Government officials erected a new brick government building on the same site, in 1818, and it was destroyed by fire as well. A third parliamentary building constructed west of present-day Union Station on Front Street served as the seat of the government until 1893. New buildings were then erected in Queen’s Park at the head of University Avenue on April 4 of that year, and the Ontario Legislature opened its 26th session. Premier Oliver Mowat presided over the legislature.
A traveller visiting the settlement in 1798 remarked, “A dreary dismal place, not even possessing the characteristics of a village. There is no church, schoolhouse nor, in fact, any of the ordinary signs of civilization. There is no inn, and those travellers who have no friends to go to, pitch a tent and live there while they remain.”
Upper Canada’s capital, situated on low-lying ground, became known as Muddy York, especially in the spring. It was Bishop Strachan, an educator and the first Anglican Bishop of York, who was instrumental in the development of the settlement. Bishop Strachan founded King’s College, chartered in 1827, as the first institution of higher learning in Upper Canada. King’s College later became known as the University of Toronto.
The name York ceased to exist in 1834, when the settlement reverted back to the Native name, Toronto, and it was incorporated that same year as the City of Toronto, population 9,000. This grand city inhabited one square mile and extended north to Dundas Street, west to Bathurst Street, and east to Parliament Street. The first mayor of the city was William Lyon Mackenzie, a Scotsman, editor of a newspaper, and opponent of the Family Compact — the ruling class. Mackenzie’s career as a reformer climaxed during the armed Rebellion of 1837. This battle was fought near Montgomery’s Tavern on Yonge Street, and it ended with Mackenzie’s defeat and exile.
Trinity College, Toronto, circa 1860.
Courtesy of Metropolitan Toronto Reference Library
The most famous and the longest street in Canada, Yonge Street, began as a soldier’s trail in 1795. This pathway provided a route and connection to Lake Simcoe to the north. York’s first industry, a tannery, opened on Yonge Street in 1812. In 1849 Yonge Street saw the city’s first public transportation: four six-passenger, horse-drawn omnibuses operating between the St. Lawrence Market and the Red Lion Hotel in Yorkville. The first horse-drawn street railway in Canada appeared on Yonge Street in 1861. Electric trolleys began in 1892 on Church Street and reached a speed of 10 miles per hour. Timothy Eaton opened his first business in 1869 — a dry goods store on Yonge Street, and Robert Simpson followed suit three years later.
The first steam engine to be built in Canada was at Good’s Foundry. On April 16, 1853, this quaint locomotive, named Toronto, was transported down Yonge Street to the permanent tracks on Front Street, at the foot of Bay Street. A month later that same locomotive headed the first train to run in Ontario. It went from Toronto to Machell’s Corner, which is now Aurora. The first train to visit Toronto on the newly completed Grand Trunk line arrived on October 27, 1856. The city’s first Union Station, a small brick building at the foot of York Street, was built for joint use of the Grand Trunk, the Northern, and the Great Western Railways until a new station was opened west of York in 1873. The Union Station that we see today was started in 1914 and completed 13 years later, at which time it was opened by the Prince of Wales (later King Edward VIII) during his 1927 trip to celebrate Canada’s 60th birthday.
Crime always accompanies major cities, and although we read about it every day, it certainly isn’t new. By 1862 at least 12 people had been hanged in Canada, and Toronto had some stories to share. Flogging and branding were common punishments for petty larceny and other misdemeanours in the early 19th century. The hangman usually administered the lash and most often did so in public. It was also his duty to brand criminals. This was usually done on the hands or on the tongue, until 1802, when it was abolished for all but manslaughter.
York’s first public execution occurred in 1798. The crime was forging an order for three shillings and sixpence. The accused was John Sullivan, a tailor. It had actually been Mike Flannery who did the forgery job. Flannery had simply used Sullivan, but upon hearing news of the discovery of the forged document, Flannery fled to the United States. Sullivan was merely the man who signed the document in order to cash it. He was sentenced to death, and confined in an old log jail situated near the present King Edward Hotel. On the day of the execution, October11, people celebrated as if it were a public holiday. A huge crowd of men, women, and children congregated by the gallows, and there stood Sullivan waiting to be hanged. The crowd watched with bated breath. Snap went the rope. Sullivan’s neck did not. The rope had broken. Not only was he the first to be hanged. He was the first to be hanged twice!
In 1816 a murder occurred on Yonge Street. Elijah Dexter shot James Vanderburg during a quarrel. Some people thought Dexter had shot in self-defence, but government officials thought otherwise. He was charged and found guilty of murder and sentenced to death. Once again the crowds gathered. People took time off from business and farm chores to watch the hanging. This time it was Reverend John Strachan who escorted Dexter to the scaffold. When Dexter appeared, the crowd cheered. Dexter had no intention of dying. He wasn’t ready. At the base of the scaffold he refused to ascend. The jailer was a resourceful man. Off he went to get a horse and cart, and then placed Dexter in the vehicle with his back to the scaffold. Next he moved Dexter under the scaffold and then adjusted the noose accordingly; finally, he lashed the horse and off it bolted, leaving Dexter to hang in the air.
A gruesome murder occurred in 1819, near Whitby. It was so brutal that some citizens took the law into their own hands. The murderer never stood trial. The murderer was a Frenchman named De Benyon. Apparently, De Benyon had difficulty tolerating his 13-year-old stepson. He turned the young man out of the house on a bitter winter night. Sometime later he allowed the lad back in and proceeded to tie him up in front of the fireplace. The boy literally roasted to death while De Benyon watched. Caught in the act, he tried to escape, but his neighbours overtook him near a bridge over the Don River. No one cared to wait for the authorities. They hung him on the spot.
In 1828 two men were scheduled to hang at the same time, at York’s second jail, near the northeast corner of King and Toronto Streets. It was incredible, this fascination with death. Ten thousand “concerned” citizens turned out to witness this. How far will people go to watch a hanging? Quite the distance, it would seem, since York itself had only a population