Toronto has been described as a city of neighbourhoods, mostly with ethnic-related boundaries. Toronto has Greektown on the Danforth, Little India in the east end, Koreatown on Bloor, Little Portugal and Little Italy on College, Spadina’s Chinatown, Little Persia on Yonge, north of downtown, and so on. Those ethnic divides are also true in my area. We have Chinatown East just across the street, and a polygot community of newcomers north and south of us.
When I think about it, though, my 15-minute city tends to divide itself economically. Our little one-way street edges Regent Park, Canada’s largest community housing project; St Jamestown to the west, an aging apartment complex with a population of about 25,000 people, many of whom are newcomers, low-income families and seniors; and Moss Park, a hardscrabble area with the densest collection of shelters and associated challenges.
Our own home is also part of that cultural and socio-economic divide. The house dates back to 1917, was built by a fellow named Tong Lee when the area east of us was often industrial (a building at the end of our street was, at that time, a munitions factory). Our house became a rooming house and eventually sat empty in the late 1990s until it was bought and gentrified by new homeowners who lived in it prior to us.
Our home sits on the edge of Cabbagetown, a neighbourhood that is now mostly well-heeled and often perceived as self-satisfied (a project to add a much-needed daycare centre was recently stopped by residents who complained it would interfere with street parking). The neighbourhood is called Cabbagetown. I’ve been thinking of the irony of that name and how a wealthy neighbourhood chose to take the name of a former slum as its own (fyi there’s a great book by Hugh Garner, titled Cabbagetown, which details life there in the 1930s).
Cabbagetown’s original name is Don Vale, named after the Don Valley that I’ve been focusing on in Seeing Place. It’s an admittedly beautiful neighbourhood, filled with Victorian homes and workers cottages lived in by people associated with the building industry and factories that ran along the Don River. In the early 1970s the area was scheduled for large-scale demolition, to be replaced by high rises similar to the ones in St Jamestown. A Jane Jacobs-style protest movement saved the buildings, which were over time renovated and the neighbourhood gentrified, taking the name Cabbagetown over the original Don Vale. The original Cabbagetown was south of us, in what’s now called Regent Park.
The name Cabbagetown comes from an immigrant and impoverished population who grew vegetable gardens in their front yards, with stewed cabbage being notorious smell. The area, a slum, was torn down in the late 1940s, and renamed Regent Park. The neighbourhood was touted as the future of community housing, but was also insular with few roads and by the 1990s had a poverty rate of about 73 per cent with a phenomenally high crime rate by the mid-1990s. It’s currently being redeveloped into mixed housing, with proper roads and community services. Regent Park is now a great place to spend time and far more active than Cabbagetown to the north.
I note that there’s some irony in the name Cabbagetown, directly associated with poverty, usurped by the original Don Vale community.
I also note with less amusement that a 2009 BIA proposal to make Parliament Street — the main thoroughfare that bridges Regent Park, St Jamestown and Cabbagetown — more pedestrian friendly by adding benches and parkettes, was shot down by non other than the Don Vale Residents Association, a Cabbagetown neighbourhood group who felt that adding benches would lead to loitering (notorious quote: “it’s our community but it’s a jungle out there.”
The redeveloped Regent Park has public sitting areas that are well lit and well-used by multi-generational families and groups of friends, areas that add to the vibrancy of the community. This year the proposal to develop Parliament Street is being revitalized, and it will be interesting to see if lessons have been learned from Regent Park will benefit the community at large. Hopefully, this time it won’t be stopped by a vocal minority of gentrified home owners.
PS I’m not really as grumpy as I probably sound. I live in a lovely neighbourhood and I’m fortunate we were able to move in before prices skyrocketed. Our next-door neighbour started renting out a portion of his home and, truth be told, I couldn’t afford to live there.
A wonderful big picture view of your expanded neighbourhood and its history. It’s interesting to see how cities evolve, for better or worse. Time to read some more Jane Jacobs. For sure, you live in an area of Toronto that is multi-cultural, a defining characteristic.
Toronto has been described as a city of neighbourhoods, mostly with ethnic-related boundaries. Toronto has Greektown on the Danforth, Little India in the east end, Koreatown on Bloor, Little Portugal and Little Italy on College, Spadina’s Chinatown, Little Persia on Yonge, north of downtown, and so on. Those ethnic divides are also true in my area. We have Chinatown East just across the street, and a polygot community of newcomers north and south of us.
When I think about it, though, my 15-minute city tends to divide itself economically. Our little one-way street edges Regent Park, Canada’s largest community housing project; St Jamestown to the west, an aging apartment complex with a population of about 25,000 people, many of whom are newcomers, low-income families and seniors; and Moss Park, a hardscrabble area with the densest collection of shelters and associated challenges.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CY7zELnNTs_/
Our own home is also part of that cultural and socio-economic divide. The house dates back to 1917, was built by a fellow named Tong Lee when the area east of us was often industrial (a building at the end of our street was, at that time, a munitions factory). Our house became a rooming house and eventually sat empty in the late 1990s until it was bought and gentrified by new homeowners who lived in it prior to us.
Our home sits on the edge of Cabbagetown, a neighbourhood that is now mostly well-heeled and often perceived as self-satisfied (a project to add a much-needed daycare centre was recently stopped by residents who complained it would interfere with street parking). The neighbourhood is called Cabbagetown. I’ve been thinking of the irony of that name and how a wealthy neighbourhood chose to take the name of a former slum as its own (fyi there’s a great book by Hugh Garner, titled Cabbagetown, which details life there in the 1930s).
Cabbagetown’s original name is Don Vale, named after the Don Valley that I’ve been focusing on in Seeing Place. It’s an admittedly beautiful neighbourhood, filled with Victorian homes and workers cottages lived in by people associated with the building industry and factories that ran along the Don River. In the early 1970s the area was scheduled for large-scale demolition, to be replaced by high rises similar to the ones in St Jamestown. A Jane Jacobs-style protest movement saved the buildings, which were over time renovated and the neighbourhood gentrified, taking the name Cabbagetown over the original Don Vale. The original Cabbagetown was south of us, in what’s now called Regent Park.
The name Cabbagetown comes from an immigrant and impoverished population who grew vegetable gardens in their front yards, with stewed cabbage being notorious smell. The area, a slum, was torn down in the late 1940s, and renamed Regent Park. The neighbourhood was touted as the future of community housing, but was also insular with few roads and by the 1990s had a poverty rate of about 73 per cent with a phenomenally high crime rate by the mid-1990s. It’s currently being redeveloped into mixed housing, with proper roads and community services. Regent Park is now a great place to spend time and far more active than Cabbagetown to the north.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CO2eUs3NH4m/
I note that there’s some irony in the name Cabbagetown, directly associated with poverty, usurped by the original Don Vale community.
I also note with less amusement that a 2009 BIA proposal to make Parliament Street — the main thoroughfare that bridges Regent Park, St Jamestown and Cabbagetown — more pedestrian friendly by adding benches and parkettes, was shot down by non other than the Don Vale Residents Association, a Cabbagetown neighbourhood group who felt that adding benches would lead to loitering (notorious quote: “it’s our community but it’s a jungle out there.”
The redeveloped Regent Park has public sitting areas that are well lit and well-used by multi-generational families and groups of friends, areas that add to the vibrancy of the community. This year the proposal to develop Parliament Street is being revitalized, and it will be interesting to see if lessons have been learned from Regent Park will benefit the community at large. Hopefully, this time it won’t be stopped by a vocal minority of gentrified home owners.
PS I’m not really as grumpy as I probably sound. I live in a lovely neighbourhood and I’m fortunate we were able to move in before prices skyrocketed. Our next-door neighbour started renting out a portion of his home and, truth be told, I couldn’t afford to live there.
A wonderful big picture view of your expanded neighbourhood and its history. It’s interesting to see how cities evolve, for better or worse. Time to read some more Jane Jacobs. For sure, you live in an area of Toronto that is multi-cultural, a defining characteristic.
Thanks, Kim. Multi-culti, yes, and also affected by both built form and history.