# 58 ~ Toronto's "Lost Island"

Sorry if the title of this post is a little deceiving!  To those of you who were hoping for news of a discovery of an island in the Toronto harbour where dinosaurs still roam, or where a group of stranded travellers were scheming their way back to the city while fighting off mysterious monsters ... I apologize!

This coming weekend, on Saturday, May 23rd, and Sunday, May 24th, I will be conducting four tours each day on Toronto's very well known set of islands.  These tours are free and are conducted through the auspices of Doors Open Toronto.

The Toronto Islands are a place set apart from the city.  There is a certain amount of mystery to the islands.  And, they were once home to a number of buildings that have been demolished.  Though lost to us now, they paint a charming picture of the Toronto Islands as our city's "back garden".  So, I've decided to put together a post of a brief history of the islands and some of the buildings that once stood there.

Geologists tell us that the Toronto Islands were created over thousands of years.  Over 10,000 years ago, as the last Ice Age that struck the North American continent ended, the ice receded and what is now the St. Lawrence River opened up.  Over a very long time, the currents of the river washed away at the chalks of the Scarborough Bluffs, and deposited the silt and sand in Toronto's harbour, forming the Toronto Islands that we know today.  As many of those who are keen on Toronto's history will know, the lake shore and harbour of Toronto has changed considerably, even in the last 200 years.  The Toronto Islands are no exception.  The contours of the Toronto Islands have shifted and changed considerably.  Some of these changes can be spotted in the following two maps.  

This map from 1813 portrays the Toronto Harbour, Garrison Reserve, and the Toronto Islands.

This contemporary map from Google can be compared to the map above, from 1813, showing how the Toronto Islands have changed over two centuries.

According to tradition, the Toronto Islands served as a place for the region's aboriginal people to convalesce.  The sick and the tired would be taken over to recover.  This is a tradition that carried on after British settlement in 1793, and it is a tradition that is with us today.  Every summer, thousands of us who live in the city travel across the harbour to get away from it all.  The islands have become an important retreat, especially for those who don't have cottages north of the city to retreat to.

By the middle of the 1800s, a few people had begun to live on the Toronto Islands all year round.  The first permanent residents of the Toronto Islands were the Hanlan family, who settled near Gibraltar Point, towards the west end of the Islands, in 1862.  John Hanlan would later build a hotel at the northwest tip of the island - I'll discuss the hotel later in this post.  The area become known as "Hanlan's Point".  John's son, Edward "Ned" Hanlan earned a worldwide reputation as a rower, before retiring from athletics and taking over his father's business.  You can read a biography of Ned Hanlan at the Dictionary of Canadian Biography by clicking here.

Growing up on the Toronto Islands, Ned Hanlan picked up the skills that would make him a world class rower.

Land on the Toronto Islands was subdivided to make way for cottages, recreational and amusement attractions, and hotels, like the one Hanlan had built.  Along the southern side of Centre Island, facing the outer harbour and Lake Ontario, large Victorian summer homes were built by Toronto’s leading families.  They were looking to escape summer in the city, and they could also take advantage of their memberships in the Royal Canadian Yacht Club, which relocated to the Toronto Islands. 

By 1899, there a total of eight tenants on Ward’s Island, who each paid $10 rent to stay there for the summer season.  By 1913, this number had increased so much that the municipal government found it necessary to organize the area into streets, and the area eventually evolved into a cottage community.

The number of people living on the islands only grew, and by the 1950s, this residential community stretched all the way from Ward’s Island to Hanlan’s Point - so across most of the islands.  There were about 630 homes, as well as services like a movie cinema, a bowling alley, stores, hotels and dance halls.  These attractions were located at the southern end of Centre Island.  But, the homes on the Toronto Islands were threatened when planning began for the Gardiner Expressway.  In the early 1950s, he new thoroughfare ate up a lot of recreational and park land along the city's lakefront.  City council chose to demolish the residential community on the Toronto Islands and replace it with parkland, to compensate for the loss of all that green space on the city side of the harbour.  City crews began demolishing the homes on the Toronto Islands. 

By 1963, all the residents of the Toronto Islands who were willing to move on had done so.  Those who remained carried on a very long battle to keep their homes.  By 1970, only 250 of those original 630 homes remained.  They were clustered together on Algonquin Island and Ward's Island.  Through the 1970s, island residents continued to lobby both the municipal and provincial governments, and as various elections came and went, the prospects of those living across the inner harbour kept changing back and forth.  However, no significant demolition was carried on through the 1970s. 

There was a showdown on July 28, 1980.  Municipal authorities sent a sheriff to serve eviction notices to remaining residents.  Most of the island residents met the sheriff at the bridge to Algonquin Island.  Those who had gathered managed to convince the sheriff to withdraw.  On July 31, 1980, the community won the right to challenge the 1974 evictions. The Islanders lost the challenge, but by this time, the province had started a formal inquest. On December 18, 1981, the province of Ontario passed a law legalizing the Islanders to stay until 2005.

On July 28, 1980, there was a "showdown" between Toronto Island residents and a sheriff who had been sent to evict them.  The stand off took place here, on the bridge between Centre Island and Algonquin Island.  Residents eventually persuaded the sheriff to leave, and in 1981, a law was passed to allow Island residents to stay, at least temporarily.

The community's final fight for survival was finally rewarded in 1993, when the Ontario Government passed the Toronto Islands Residential Community Stewardship Act, which enabled Islanders to purchase 99-year land leases from a Land Trust.

This briefly tells the story of how those homes on the Toronto Islands that we know today managed to survive.  But what about the buildings that were destroyed?  Here is an inventory of some of the buildings that used to grace the landscape of the Toronto Islands.

HANLAN'S HOTEL

As mentioned, the Hanlan family were pioneers in settling on the Toronto Islands.  The family had settled there in 1862, and in 1878, John Hanlan built a hotel near the northwest tip of the islands.  The hotel was destroyed by a fire in 1909.

Hanlan's Hotel, circa 1890.

Tennis at Hanlan's Hotel in 1905.

Local children enjoy the water while a regatta assembles in front of Hanlan's Hotel in 1907.

Hanlan's Hotel is shown here sometime shortly after it opened in 1878.  It certainly would have been a whimsical place in which to stay and enjoy recreation on the Toronto Islands.  It was destroyed by a fire that swept through Hanlan's Point on August 10th, 1909.

THE LAKESIDE HOME FOR LITTLE CHILDREN

This home was built as a summer retreat for economically disadvantaged young children.  Many of them suffered from Tuberculosis or other respiratory diseases.  The original home opened in 1883, near the western end of the Toronto Islands.  In 1891, John Ross Robertson, who had founded the Evening Telegram newspaper, and who had lost his own daughter to Scarlet Fever, donated the funds for a large addition to the home and a veranda that looked out over the lake.  

This painting from 1892 shows the location of the Lakeside Home for Little Children relative to the Gibraltar Point Lighthouse.

Every June, the children who enjoyed the home were taken from the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children, which was then located on College Street.  The sick children would be paraded down to the docks in a long line of carriages, with many of the children still in their hospital beds.  They stayed on the Toronto Islands until September, when they would be brought back to the hospital.

The home was damaged in a fire that struck on April 22nd, 1915, but fortunately, none of the children had yet arrived for the summer.  Robertson once again gave a donation and the home was repaired and continued to be a fresh air haven for thousands of children.  It continued until 1928, when a new country home for the Hospital for Sick Children opened up in Thistledown, Ontario.  The former Lakeside Home for Little Children was then used as emergency housing during the Second World War.  It was being used as a housing complex up until the time it was demolished in 1956.

The Lakeside Home for Little Children, circa 1883.

Hospital Ward, Lakeside Home for Little Children, circa 1883.

Children being transported to the Lakeside Home in 1923.

Patients from the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children are seen here being transported to the Lakeside Home, aboard the S.S. John Hanlan, in 1928.

The two photographs above show a similar scene, with children being transported across the Inner Harbour to the Lakeside Home for Little Children.  The lower photograph also gives us an insight into what nurses and policemen wore to work.

Red Cross Hut, Lakeside Home for Little Children, July of 1924.

This photograph shows the Lakeside Home for Little Children looking rather abandoned in 1954.  It was demolished two years later.

THE ROYAL CANADIAN YACHT CLUB

The Royal Canadian Yacht Club an trace its origins back to 1850, when a small group of Toronto boating enthusiasts established the Toronto Boat Club.  This evolved over the next three years to become the Toronto Yacht Club, and the group applied for a Royal Warrant.  This involved obtaining permission from the Sovereign of the day to use the word "Royal".  The petition was actually granted by Queen Victoria, and the Royal Canadian Yacht Club was born. 

Sir Caismir Gzowski allowed a building that he owned near the site of today's present Union Station to be used as the first clubhouse for the original Toronto Boat Club.  In 1853, the clubhouse moved to a scow that was docked at the foot of Simcoe Street.  In 1858, the clubhouse moved again to a steamer called the Provincial.  The new headquarters lasted for a decade, until the Provincial was pooled away from its moorings by ice in the harbour, and was eventually blown up to eliminate it as a risk to any other ships navigating through nearby waters.

The following year, a clubhouse was built on Front Street, near Simcoe Street.  This site was eventually replaced when a new clubhouse was finally constructed on the Toronto Islands in 1881.  This first RCYC clubhouse to be built on the Toronto Islands was evocative of the summer cottages that were so much in vogue at the time.  With the tall tower to one side of the clubhouse, and the verandah that encircled the building, there would have been plenty of vantage points from which to take in all the boating events that took place in the harbour.  On the inside, the clubhouse presented another face.  Complete with dining space, lounges and residential rooms, there was no question that the building was a resort for the well-to-do.  The lighthearted, rustic look of wood and ivy on the clubhouse's exterior gave an intentional contrast to the brick homes that those who came to enjoy the clubhouse were escaping from back in the city.  Designed by noted Toronto architect Frank Darling, this clubhouse stood on the site of the present day RCYC clubhouse, until it was destroyed by fire in 1904.  Fire was a serious threat to buildings in Toronto and other cities at the time.  Most buildings were constructed of wood and were both heated and illuminated by coal stoves or lanterns.  In fact, most buildings were put up with the expectation that they would only last a few decades, anyhow.

The first Royal Canadian Yacht Club clubhouse on the Toronto Islands was built in 1881.  It lasted for just over twenty years before being lost to fire in 1904.

Garden Party, Royal Canadian Yacht Club, circa 1900.

When the 1881 clubhouse was burned to the ground in 1904, it was replaced by a new facility, designed by architect Henry Sproatt, and completed in 1906.  The style of this second RCYC clubhouse to be built on the Toronto Islands was definitely a step away from the rustic nature of its predecessor.  There was definitely something more formal about this second building.  The architectural firm of Sproatt & Rolph, which had designed this building, had also designed Victoria College, which was in the Gothic style, the Canada Life Assurance Company building on University Avenue just north of Queen Street, which was in a Classical style, and many private homes in Forest Hill and Rosedale, many of which were in the Georgian style.  So, the firm was definitely very versatile in what they had to offer.  This second clubhouse only lasted a dozen years before it fell prey to fire, too, in 1918.  

The second clubhouse for the Royal Canadian Yacht Club to be built on the Toronto Islands was completed by 1906, and was destroyed when fire struck again in 1918.  It was replaced with the current building, which was made to look similar to the 1906 design by Sproatt & Ralph.

The burned out hulk of the second RCYC clubhouse served until a slightly altered reincarnation of Sproatt's clubhouse could be completed in 1922.  The fire had been devastating, though fortunately the club's trophies and silverware service had been saved.  However, it was because the design by Sproatt & Rolph had been so popular that the third clubhouse was built to resemble the second clubhouse so closely  This third facility is the one that survives today.  It is Toronto's largest wooden building, and holds a ballroom, a dining room, and other social spaces.  This is not to be confused with the clubhouse across the harbour on the mainland, on St. George Street, just north of Bloor Street.

The Royal Canadian Yacht Club's Toronto Islands clubhouse today.

BISHOP ARTHUR SWEATMAN'S COTTAGE

The Toronto Islands have seen various amenities come and go over the years, but its church has survived for 130 years, although it has had its appearance altered and has been moved.  The Anglican Church of St. Andrew's-by-the-Lake was opened in 1884, and built at a cost of $2,000.  The church was originally located on Lakeshore Avenue, on the south side of the islands, towards the western end of Centre Island.  Prominent Toronto families, like the Gooderhams, owned cottages on the islands, were members of the Royal Canadian Yacht Club, and also contributed to the establishment of St. Andrew's-by-the-Lake.  

The architectural design of the church was a curious combination of Gothic and Medieval elements, mixed with something called "Stick-Style", which was often used for cottages and seasonal summer hotels.  Between 1919 and 1921, a set of stained glass windows were installed in the church.  These windows had been designed by Robert McCausland, a noted Toronto area stained glass window designer, whose work can also be seen in Toronto's 1899 City Hall and the Press Building at the Canadian National Exhibition.  

Above, the windows of St. Andrews-by-the-Lake Church.

This window, located in the main lobby of Toronto's 1899 City Hall, was designed by Robert McCausland, who was also responsible for the windows at St. Andrews-by-the-Lake church.

The church was moved away from Lakeshore Avenue to its current location in 1959.  This was at a time when a lot of the residential demolition was taking place on the Toronto Islands.  Fortunately, the church was moved very carefully, even though it was actually cut in half to facilitate the move.  The cherished McCausland windows were salvaged.  

The original rectory for the church was not so fortunate.  Often referred to as the "Sweatman Cottage", this name is a reference to the Right Reverend Arthur Sweatman, who arrived in Toronto in 1879, and eventually became the Anglican Archbishop and Primate of all of Canada.  Sweatman was a driving force in setting up the summer church community on the Toronto Islands.  His cottage was constructed at the same time as the church, for a cost of $1,500.  Photographs of the cottage show it having an outline very similar to that of the church, complete with even something that looks like a bell tower.  Verandahs and porches were the order of the day, especially for summer cottages.  Regular homes may often have included them at the front of the house, but on summer cottages, they usually wrapped around all four sides of the building.  A roof would often overhang these verandahs to create additional "outdoor rooms".

The Sweatman Cottage was not lost to fire, but instead, to the thorough destruction that City Council carried out across the Toronto Islands during their swath of demolition in the 1950s and 1960s.

Today's Rectory Cafe did at one time later serve as a rectory for St. Andrew's-by-the-Lake Church.  Built in 1948, it was due to be demolished during the demolition that swept across the islands.  However, its heavy concrete construction made it too difficult to take down, so it survived.

This photograph from 1888 shows the "Sweatman Cottage", left, and the church of St. Andrew's-by-the-Lake before the church was dismantled and moved to its current location.

THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER'S COTTAGE AT GIBRALTAR POINT

The lighthouse at Gibraltar Point is a much loved historical landmark in Toronto.  It doesn't quite rank as the oldest building in the city, but the fact that it was constructed by 1808 gives it a revered status in a city as young as Toronto.  It's a solitary landmark, too, standing watch over the harbour and the city as if it has watch Toronto grow for over two centuries.

The lighthouse itself has changed over the years.  Originally built to a height of 52 feet (just under 16 metres), it was extended in 1832, to a height of 82 feet (25 metres).  The original building was made out of stone from Queenston and the 1832 extension was made out of stone brought in from Kingston.  The light of the tower was originally burned using whale oil, until coal was used starting in 1862.  An electric light was put in, by 1917, and updated in later years.  Further minor renovations were made in the early 1960s.

In addition to these physical changes, the islands have changed around the lighthouse, too.  It once stood right on the water's edge, but with the shifting of the sand and silt around the lighthouse, it now stands about one hundred metres from the shore.

This painting of the lighthouse and Gibraltar Point was rendered in 1817.  Anyone who has been to visit the site of the lighthouse can compare this painting from nearly 200 years ago to the way the location looks today, and note the many differences.

All the electric light at the top of the lighthouse is still hooked up, the building is no longer ever put into operation.  It stands, tall and stoic, shut up against the wind and the rain, after all these years.  There is an enduring tale of the mysterious disappearance of the lighthouse's first keeper, who vanished a century ago now.  It is this legend, at least in part, that has helped to enter the lighthouse into the annals of Toronto's folklore.  But, perhaps a rendering of this story would offer good prospects for a future blog entry.  When the lighthouse originally opened, provision was made for a lighthouse keeper to be housed right next door.  There was an official "light keeper" right up until 1958, but this appointment was eventually rendered obsolete when the lighthouse fell out of use.  The lighthouse keeper's cottage eventually disappeared.  Below is a list of lighthouse keepers, followed by some images of the lighthouse keeper's cottage.

• John Paul Radan Muller (1809 to 1815)
• William Halloway (1816 to 1831)
• James Durnan (1832 to 1853)
• George Durnan (1853 to 1908)
• Captain P. J. McSherry (1905 to 1912)
• B. Matthews (1912 to 1917)
• G. F. Eaton (1917 to 1918)
• F. C. Allan (1918 to 1944)
• Mrs. Ladder (1944 to 1955)
• Mrs. Dodds (1955 to 1958)

George Durnan, who served as lighthouse keeper from 1853 to 1908, is shown here in June of 1907 being interviewed by John Ross Robertson, of the Evening Telegram.

Captain Patrick McSherry, lighthouse keeper from 1905 to 1912.

The Gibraltar Point lighthouse keeper's cottage stood to the north of the lighthouse.

The lighthouse keeper's cabin.

Interior, lighthouse keeper's cabin, 1908.

Above, details from the lighthouse keeper's cabin.  All three photographs were taken in 1908.

Houses near the Gibraltar Point Lighthouse, 1910.

This photograph from 1912 shows the area around the lighthouse being more built up than it looks today.

By the time this photograph was taken in 1954, many of the buildings seen in the previous photograph from 1912 had been removed.

________________________________________________

The buildings discussed above are just a few examples of those that once spread across the Toronto Islands.  There were many others that are lost to history, including hotels, boathouses, recreational attractions, and the baseball stadium near today's Toronto Island Airport where Baby Ruth hit his first professional home run.  To conclude this article, I have included a photographic miscellany that documents just a few of the homes that once stood across the Inner Harbour.

Cottage at Hanlan's Point, 1900.

Cottage at Centre Island, 1907.

Centre Island, 1907.

Hanlan's Point, 1908.

Hanlan's Point, circa 1908.

Centre Island, 1927.

A windswept day on Centre Island in 1912.

Homes on Toronto Islands, 1929.

Homes on Toronto Islands, 1929.

Cottage, Centre Island, 1930.

Ward's Island, 1933.

Toronto Islands, 1935.

# 57 ~ The Strange Case of the Parkdale Mystery

In the last year, I've really got into reading up on True Crime in Toronto.  I've always had a passing interest, but then again, who doesn't?  There's something about a gritty whodunit that most people find intriguing.  

I also started up a new tour this Spring called "Gangsters & Gallows".  It delves into some of the most infamous True Crime stories that Toronto has to offer.  But now, I'd like to share with you what was probably one of the strangest cases to ever be heard in a Toronto courtroom.

An 18 year old murder victim by the name of Frank Westwood was at the centre of the "Parkdale Mystery".

On Saturday, October 6, 1894, an 18 year old resident of Toronto, named Frank Westwood, returned home from an evening out with his friends.   He’d gone out at 7:30 that evening, and came home at about 10:30.  He lived with his family in a mansion on Jameson Avenue, which was a wealthy residential area on the western cusp of Toronto at the time.  Frank Westwood's father, brother and sister were already in bed when Frank got home, and his mother was just getting ready for bed.  As Frank was getting ready to do likewise, he heard the doorbell ring. 

The Westwood family home, on Jameson Avenue.  The house was eventually demolished when Parkdale was redeveloped.

Frank Westwood opened the door about 14 inches, but left the security chain in the latch.  He would later describe seeing a young man wearing dark clothes and, possibly, a fedora, with a thin moustache on his lip.  This mysterious stranger, who was standing in the shadows, raised a revolver and shot Frank Westwood.  

 His family heard the gunshot and raced downstairs.  Frank Westwood exclaimed “Mother, mother, I am shot.”   Frank Westwood was lying on the floor of the front hall.  There was gun smoke in the air, blood on the floor, and a bullet in Frank's chest.  Frank’s father grabbed his own pistol, ran outside, and fired a bullet into the air in the hope that it would also summon the police.  He hoped that the gunshot would not only summon police but also scare of any prowlers, though no one was visible.  Mrs. Westwood telephoned Dr. Griffith, the family physician.  The doctor saw that Frank’s wounds were very serious.  By Monday, as Frank’s condition deteriorated, The Globe newspaper predicted: “It May Be Murder.”

This sketch of the shooting of Frank Westwood was based on Westwood's own description, and appeared in the Toronto News newspaper, on October 8th, 1894.  The shooting of Frank Westwood monopolized the headlines of newspapers across the city, and became a sensational story.

Frank Westwood never changed his story. Three days later, understanding that his own death was imminent, he made a statement to police.  He swore that he didn't know the identity of his attacker or any reason why anyone would want to shoot him.  Frank Westwood gave in to his injuries.  His funeral ceremony was held on Friday, October 12th, 1894.  The grounds of the Westwood family's home were crowded with family acquaintances and morbid sightseers, according to the Toronto World newspaper.  It was nearly dark before Frank Westwood's body was buried in Mount Pleasant Cemetery.

This sketch of "Lakeside Hall", the Westwood family home on Jameson Avenue, appeared in the Toronto News newspaper, on October 8, 1894.

"The Parkdale Mystery", as the newspapers had dubbed it, stumped Toronto police.  Shortly after the shooting took place, editors from The World newspaper wrote to the famed British crime author, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and asked him to solve the case.  Doyle was scheduled to arrive in Toronto the following month, to give a public appearance.  Doyle showed interest in the case, but said he couldn't help.  He pointed out that while he was the author of some of the world's most famous detective stories, he was not in fact a detective himself.  

The police investigation lagged on for several weeks.  Police sought out and questioned anyone who may have witnessed the murder.  The Westwood family once again went through every detail of the night in question that they had seen, but they hadn't seen much.  Benjamin Westwood, Frank’s father, was a financially successful sporting goods manufacturer.  He was a prominent member of the of the Parkdale Methodist Church, and was considered a moral pillar of the community.  He testified that he’d never had any major argument with his son, other than to occasionally criticize young Frank for smoking. Frank Westwood’s entire family failed to think of anyone who could possibly have any reason to murder the young man.  The family knew of no enemies or any romantic entanglements that Frank had gotten himself into.

Headlines like this one, which appeared in the Toronto News on October 8th, 1894, showed how Toronto newspapers outdid one another to sensationalize the story, and therefore increase their own circulation.

The only description of Westwood's murderer was the one that Westwood himself gave when he lay in his deathbed.  The description was of a "low sized man", wearing dark clothes, a dark hat, and with a thin moustache.  Before succumbing to his injuries, Frank Westwood did his best to imagine any assailant who would have wanted him dead.  One name that did come to mind was Gus Clarke - a tough construction worker who had run ins with police in the past.  Gus Clarke worked as a “stonehooker”.  In a time before concrete was easy to come by, “stonehookers” were workers who excavated shale out of the shallower waters of the Toronto Harbour.  Frank Westwood and his father had chased Gus Clarke away from the shores near the Westwood's Jameson Avenue family home.  Stonehooking could lead to serious erosion, and Gus Clarke had often broken the law by mining shale too close to the shore.  The police questioned Clarke extensively about his previous altercations with Frank Westwood, and although they eventually cleared him, Clarke led them to a female suspect, named Clara Ford.  

This sketch of Clara Ford appeared in the Toronto News newspaper on November 28th, 1894.

Clara Ford became one of the most colourful characters to ever enter the annals of True Crime in Toronto.  She’d been born in 1862, in an impoverished part of Toronto, near the site of where the 1899 City Hall would eventually be constructed.  This part of Toronto, near modern day Queen and Bay streets, was home to some of the most economically disadvantaged residents of the city.  Clara Ford's own disadvantaged life would later be set in contrast to the financial comfort enjoyed by the Westwoods.  As an affluent family, who were pillars of the local Methodist community, the Westwoods were originally considered beyond reproach.  However, Clara Ford’s poverty would be used as a ploy for sympathy. 

Clara Ford was orphaned, and then adopted by a woman named Jessie McKay.  Ford's adopted mother, in turn, died at the start of 1894 - the same year that Frank Westwood was murdered.  At the time of her death, Jessie McKay was a patient in the Toronto Hospital for Incurables, a long term care facility for those suffering from consumption, heart disease and paralysis.  The Toronto Hospital for Incurables was located at King and Bathurst streets.  Clara Ford married rather spontaneously, and was just as quickly abandoned by her husband.

The Toronto Hospital for Incurables was a long term care facility for people with incurable diseases.  It stood near King and Bathurst streets.

So, Clara Ford had a tragic past, but she also had many traits that set her apart from what was considered conventional for a woman in Toronto at the end of the nineteenth century.  She owned a revolver, and often dressed in men's clothing.  She had been charged for impersonating a choir boy, a police constable, and a male professor.  Police found a dark suit in her room, and tests made on her gun showed that the bullets from her gun matched those that had killed Frank Westwood.

Clara Ford resided at Mamie Dorsay’s Boarding House on York Street and worked as a seamstress for a tailor named Samuel Barnett, whose shop was also located on York Street.  Her reputation was infamous.  She smoked, drank hard and had once pulled a razor on a customer in the tailor shop in which she worked.  Police brought her in for interrogation on November 20, 1894, about eight weeks after Frank Westwood’s murder. 

Chloe Dorsay, Clara Ford's landlady, from a sketch in the Toronto News, May 4, 1895.

York Street, 1856

When Clara Ford was informed that she was a suspect in the murder of Frank Westwood, she scrambled to put together an alibi.  She said that she was with an eight year old girl named Florence McKay, a relative of Jessie McKay, who had been Ford's adopted mother.  Ford claimed that they been at Toronto’s Grand Opera House, on Adelaide Street, just west of Yonge Street.  Ford claimed that they had both gone to watch a nickel and dime melodrama called “The Black Crook”.  When questioned by police, young Florence McKay seemed to want to shore up Clara Ford's story.  But, the young girl was eventually tripped up by police, and admitted that Clara Ford had never showed up at the theatre to watch the show.  

Sketch of Flora McKay, Toronto News newspaper, November 28th, 1894.

The Grand Opera House once stood on Adelaide Street, just east of Yonge Street.  It was demolished in 1927 and the Scotia Plaza tower stands on the site today.

Soon, Clara Ford became the most likely suspect in the murder of Frank Westwood.   She finally gave up and confessed to the murder.  According to Clara Ford, she'd met Frank Westwood while working as a contract seamstress in a home just down the street from the Westwood family mansion on Jameson Avenue.  Ford said that Frank Westwood and his friends had teased her about her appearance, and that had attempted to assault her.  She went into pretty specific detail about how she'd gone to his house that night in October of 1894, and waited till he returned home from a night out with his friends.  When she saw him go inside, she went to the front door of the house, rang the doorbell, and shot Frank Westwood dead.

The news that Clara Ford had confessed to the murder of Frank Westwood was splashed all over newspaper headlines, like this one in the Toronto World newspaper on November 22, 1894.  She became an instant celebrity.

Authorities figured they had enough evidence to find Clara Ford guilty, and her trial began on April 30, 1895.  The case enthralled the city and made all the newspaper headlines.  Legal experts took sides to both prosecute and defend Clara Ford.  , which began on April 30, 1895.  Various witnesses were called, including early forensic experts, who questioned the ballistics tests that had seemed to prove that Clara Ford’s gun was the murder weapon.  The jury, of course, was made up entirely of men.  In Toronto, in 1895, women were not permitted to sit on a jury.  This jury of twelve men were shocked to hear Clara Ford change her tune.  She took back her earlier confession, claiming that police had forced her into it.  Once on trial, she pleaded "not guilty".  The trial lasted for four days, but it took the jury only 48 minutes to come back with a unanimous decision. 

Some sketches of Clara Ford on trial, from the Toronto News newspaper, May, 1895.  Reporters wrote about how she answered questions in a flippant manner and was seen "standing in a masculine attitude".

Amazingly, Clara Ford was acquitted.  She had become immensely popular with the Toronto public.  Her trial had successfully portrayed the Westwoods wealthy, while Clara Ford was seen as poor and hard-working.  The fact that Clara Ford was forced to carry a revolver proved that she lived a rough life in a rough part of town.  If Clara Ford shot Frank Westwood, even by premeditation, which seemed to be the case, well, the well-to-do son of an established family probably had it coming.  Or so the jury said, anyway. 

Clara Ford certainly had admirers in the courtroom, and they gave up a cheer when the verdict was announced.  Immediately, Clara Ford invited members of the jury - the all male jury - back to the boarding house where she was staying, for "dinner and entertainment", to celebrate her acquittal.  Later, there would be all kinds of speculation as to exactly what sort of entertainment the evening held, but the more sordid tabloids never had any concrete evidence to run with.  However, Chancellor Sir John Boyd, the judge who presided over the case, expressed his disgust at the blatant weakness of the jury system in the Clara Ford case.

Headline in the Toronto News newspaper, May 6th, 1895.

The murder of Frank Westwood and the trial of Clara Ford was one of the strangest stories in Toronto's legal history.  Whenever I have shared it on tours, I'm never quite sure if people believe that it really happened, of if it's a completely fabricated story.  I do, however, encourage them to look it up, just as I hope they will take this and other memorable stories home from my tours.  

Once she was free, Clara Ford was unabashed in once again confessing her guilt.  She went to the newspapers and told them how she had actually shot Frank Westwood dead ... but according to our legal system, she could not be put on trial twice for the same crime.  Clara Ford even appeared in a dime museum, the Eden Musee, in the clothes that she had worn when she killed young Frank Westwood.  

The Toronto News newspaper ran a sketch of Clara Ford in the male clothing that she'd worn when she shot Frank Westwood.  She would later appear in a sideshow attraction wearing the same outfit.  She thrilled audiences with her story of how she had committed murder, pleaded "guilty" to police, then pleaded "not guilty" to a jury, was acquitted, and then confessed to the general public after the court case was over.

Eden’s Musee was located near the southeast corner of Yonge and Adelaide streets, and would later be renamed Robinson’s Musee Theatre.  Of interest to entertainment buffs is the fact that Robinson's Musee Theatre would become the site of the first ever showing of a movie in Toronto, in 1896.  By that time, Toronto had mostly forgotten about Frank Westwood's murder, the Parkdale Mystery, and the trial of Clara Ford, and instead had turned their attention towards being amazed by this new entertainment technology.

The theatre where Clara Ford appeared eventually became Robinson's Musee Theatre.  It stood at the southeast corner of Yonge and Adelaide streets, until it was eventually destroyed by fire.

This plaque, which is affixed to the building which now stands where Robinson's Musee Theatre once stood, describes the history of that theatre and the first moving picture show in Toronto.

Clara Ford’s sticking her thumb in the eye of the local justice system was a step too far for Ebenezer Forsyth Johnston, the lawyer who had defended her.  He strongly suggested to her that she leave the city, and preferably never come back.  She took his advice, leaving Canada altogether, and joining Sam. T. Jack’s “Creole Coloured Burlesque Show”.  She was advertised in the Western United States as a woman who had killed a man and got off completely free.  


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Interested in more stories of True Crime in Toronto?  Check out the new tour that I've added here.

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