“At one time or another almost every great city in the world has been devastated by fire, and this is particularly true of North American cities in the 19th century when wooden frame construction was very common. But despite the loss of life and the destruction of famous architectural landmarks, those fires often proved to be blessings in disguise and the cities that rose anew from their ashes were frequently better than they had been before, purged of old dilapidated buildings, and enhanced by new structures, suited to the needs of growing, thriving communities.” — Eric Arthur, St. Lawrence Hall, 1969
Over the early morning hours of April 7, 1849, Toronto’s Great Fire destroyed businesses, homes, two newspaper offices, the old St. Lawrence Market, and St. James’ Cathedral. The blaze exposed the weaknesses of the city’s emergency services and highlighted public apathy. But from its ashes grew sturdier structures — and a new major landmark — that still stand today.
King Street was then Toronto’s main business artery. The block bounded by King, George, Nelson, and Duke (present-day Adelaide Street) Streets provided plenty of fuel for a fire. Taverns stored large amounts of hay and straw for horses and catered to heavy-drinking clientele who might be careless. Hardware stores were filled with oils and other combustible items. Dry-goods retailers carried clothes and linens. Wooden sidewalks were high enough off the ground that they could provide a good draft. Buildings were covered with wooden shingles. There were some protective measures in place, such as a fire act passed in 1845 that prohibited such actions as smoking in stables and heavily regulated chimney sweeps.
The fire began around 1 a.m. in either a stable or hay loft at the back of Graham’s Tavern at the northeast side of King and Nelson. A cause was never determined, though either careless smoking or a lantern were suspected. It rapidly engulfed the centre of the block, then, helped by light winds, spread in all directions. To the east, it burned down the Bank of the Home District. To the south, it burned through another tavern to reach King Street, then spread east and west, taking out several retailers.
The growing city, which had a population of around 24,000, was covered by six volunteer firefighting companies with limited equipment and access to only four engines, half of which dated back to the mid-1820s and were in poor condition.
Theoretically, during an emergency officials could force any male between the ages of 16 and 60 to provide assistance ranging from pulling engines to demolishing buildings. While the penalty for refusing to comply so was imprisonment, it appears this was rarely, if ever, enforced.
Firefighters also had to deal with the city’s poorly maintained water systems. A reservoir for firefighting had been installed around modern-day Dundas and Huron Streets in 1843 but failed due to poorly installed wooden piping. Maintaining two water systems was a financial drain on the city. While the hydrants provided poor water pressure, firefighters didn’t help matters: they often took too long to fill their carts and hoses, wasting water that could have been used.
The bells of St. James Cathedral were used as a fire alarm, but keys were available only at city hall (now encased in the present-day south St. Lawrence Market building) or St. Patrick Market, near present-day Queen and John Streets. As Frederick Armstrong observed in his book A City in theMaking, “When one considers the amount of time it must have taken for someone to run or ride from the fire to get the keys, unlock the church and ring the bell, to say nothing of the time required for the firemen to assemble and bring the engines to the fire, it is a wonder that any buildings were saved once they were ablaze.”
It was around this time that the only fatality occurred. Richard Watson, the former publisher of the recently defunct government newspaper Upper Canada Gazette, was helping rescue materials from the office of the Patriot newspaper when he either suffocated or was trapped after an upper floor collapsed. His death was not noticed until later that morning, when he failed to come home. Mirror owner Charles Donlevy broke his leg when he was forced to jump from the roof of a nearby house after having attempted, unsuccessfully, to move printing equipment out.
As the fire moved west of Nelson Street, the water supply broke down, leaving firefighters to watch for an hour as the flames spread. By 3 a.m., fuelled by materials from stores along King Street, the fire covered three blocks. Embers and shingles flew everywhere — Bishop John Strachan reported that he saw some two miles away.
Among the places the fiery debris reached was St. James Cathedral. This wasn’t the first fire the church had faced; it had been rebuilt following a blaze in 1839. This incarnation was not visually stunning — during a visiting to the city earlier in the year, English cleric and writer Henry Christmas described St. James as a building “with the commonest possible round-headed windows,” which “but for the ill-proportioned and stumpy attempt at a spire, might answer as well, or perhaps better, as regards to the exterior, for a corn exchange.”
At 3 a.m., a burning shingle lodged in a window lattice, igniting the cathedral’s tower. The slow spread of the fire across the cathedral — it took an hour for the roof to collapse — allowed time for the organ and library to be removed. According to some accounts, the firefighters were unable to climb the tower and the fire engines were elsewhere. The Examiner noted that, as the spire was slowly engulfed in flames, gawkers refused to help. “While if they had acted instead of idly speculating and talking, the cathedral might have been saved. At length the spark burst into flame and it was not long before some persons were inside wasting pails of water on the flames which a single pail would have prevented when the fire was confined to a mere spark.”
The fire then spread around the St. Lawrence Market area. Established in 1803, the market had evolved through a series of buildings. A permanent structure had been built on the southwest side of King and Nelson in 1831 and was also used for municipal offices. A new city hall that also included some market functions had been built on the south side of Front Street in 1845. The older structure was damaged in the fire, with parts of it completely destroyed.
Rescue efforts at various buildings continued; most of the books from the city’s second-largest library, the Toronto Athenaeum, were saved. While most merchants rustled up whatever help they could to save their inventories, King Street retailer Thomas D. Harris refused to let anyone remove any goods from his building, as he was convinced it was fireproof. Though the tin roof and iron shutters initially provided some protection, it, too, went up in flames.
At its height, between 3:30 and 4 a.m., the fire spread across six blocks and could be seen as far away as St. Catharines. It spread no further thanks to three key factors. A brief rain shower likely prevented any damage west of Church Street. The wind drove the flames into the cemetery next to the cathedral, helping to prevent the destruction of the city’s courthouse, a fire hall, and a church. And help for the beleaguered firefighters finally came when troops from the garrison at Fort York arrived around 4 a.m. and helped save the south side of King Street. The fire was under control by 5 a.m. and nearly out an hour later — around the time the first printed notice about “the dreadful fire” was prepared for that morning’s edition of the Globe.
“It is not easy to describe the gloom which this calamity has cast over the city, or the ruinous appearance of the ground so lately occupied by many respectable and industrious individuals, who, by the work of four or five hours, were suddenly thrown out of business, or seriously injured in their circumstances,” the Globe reported four days later. The paper called on the city to establish a night watch to help prevent similar disasters.
In a petition of grievances submitted to Mayor George Gurnett, firefighters complained about the public’s general apathy: “It has been the painful lot of the Firemen to feel that Citizens do not participate in or respond to their exertions — while upon duty mingling with the flames or drenched with the freezing water, their blood congealed with intense cold, with ever sinew strained to its utmost tension — the Toronto Fire Brigade have seen — have heard — too often heard the requests, the supplications of their Engineers or their Captains made for help to thousands of intelligent by idle Citizens — persons who have been more than once saved by the exertion of the Firemen from some former conflagration — they have heard no responsive cheer — they have received no help or succour — but sickening with the unnatural spectacle … they have been left to struggle unaided. “
When the petition had zero effect, nearly all of them resigned. The city was effectively without fire service for the rest of the year; council eventually agreed to address the complaints and create new companies. Further reforms to the fire service were slow, and it wasn’t until the 1870s that most firefighters were paid professionals. While councillors took months to heed public calls for revised building legislation, insurance companies didn’t wait — within a month of the fire, they refused to cover new wooden buildings.
Most of the properties damaged in the fire were rebuilt by the end of the year. It helped that, unlike other major 19th-century North American fires, this one didn’t bankrupt any insurance companies, meaning that claims could be processed quickly. Some businesses temporarily relocated, and a temporary fire bell was installed at the courthouse.
Two new major landmarks rose from the ashes. Plans to redo the front facade of St. Lawrence Market had been considered when the new city hall opened in 1845, but the city lacked the money to act on them. By June 1849, the decision was made to raze the remaining part of the old market; a new arcade of shops would be constructed, and most of the site would be dedicated to a new, more elegant meeting place — St. Lawrence Hall. A design commissioned from architect William Thomas in 1845 was revised for the new building.
Services for St. James Cathedral were temporarily moved west to the Church of the Holy Trinity, but the intention was to rebuild. The congregation was divided between those who wanted to a grand Gothic-style cathedral and those who preferred a more economical parish church. Unusually enough, in the context of Toronto’s history, the grander, more expensive option won, and construction began in late 1850; the first service was held in June 1853. Work continued intermittently over the next two decades — the structure was finally completed when the church clock was installed in 1875.
The glacial pace of improvements to firefighting and the city’s water system proved problematic in the long run: in 1904, the city was hit by an even more devastating “great fire” that destroyed an industrial and warehousing area. That fire finally spurred the installation of a high-pressure water system — and it was some of the destroyed blocks that would eventually give rise to the Bay Street financial district.
Sources: A City in the Making by Frederick H. Armstrong (Toronto: Dundurn, 1988); TorontoObserved by William Dendy and William Kilbourn (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1986); Robertson’s Landmarks of Toronto Volume 2 by John Ross Robertson (Toronto: J. Ross Robertson, 1896); St. Lawrence Hall (Don Mills: Thomas Nelson & Sons, 1969); the April 13, 1849, edition of the British Colonist; the April 24, 1849, edition of the Canadian Free Press; and the April 7, 1849, and April 11, 1849, editions of the Globe.