Echoes of the past: Richmond Hill's Mill Pond and village core cling to community

Yorkregion.com
November 29, 2018
Kim Zarzour

Mark McAlister saw the front-page headline and his heart stopped.

Condos were coming to the Mill Pond.

The Richmond Hill man read further and his alarm grew: the story in the local paper detailed how the town had sold rights to the Mill Pond to a developer who was going to build floating condos.

“I was halfway through a phone call to the town when I looked at the date. It was Apr. 1.”

McAlister wasn’t the only resident to fall for the prank, then feel a flood of relief that their beloved little community would remain unscathed.

As any longtime “villager” can tell you, you don’t mess with the Mill Pond.

Residents in the centre of town are fiercely loyal to their community and, for the most part, they like it just the way it is.

For more than a century, the village and Mill Pond's cluster of eclectic shops and homes have held the heart of Richmond Hill, despite the challenges of a growing and changing population.

The community that stretches from the Pond -- east to Yonge, north to Elgin Mills and south to Major Mackenzie -- remains one of the most sought-after communities in Richmond Hill. But 150 years ago, it was the only community.

The town's history is encapsulated here, starting from its early days as a pioneer hamlet and a resting place for travellers on their way to Toronto.

If you look closely around the neighbourhood, if you listen old-timers’ memories, you will see and hear those early days echoing everywhere.

There are echoes at 10370 Yonge St., where a frame building once held members of John Stook’s family. Stook, a strange man and one of the area’s first pioneers, was known for wandering aimlessly, stabbing the air with his cane and scaring local children until one day, he and his family simply wandered away.

His brother Edward hung around, though, and, in 1822, he built his humble home near Yonge and Crosby.

Slightly to the south, history echoes again in the Richmond Hill Presbyterian cemetery with the tombstone of Abner Miles, another settler who put down roots after the Stooks disappeared.

Miles’ family built a tavern on the southeast corner of Major Mack and Yonge that became a favourite watering hole for Yonge Street travellers, drawing a steady clientele and eventually a village of houses and shops along Yonge Street.

To the west, more echoes reverberate at the Langstaff home at 107 Hall St.

This stately 1849 home was Richmond Hill’s first hospital. Its sweeping front lawn faced Yonge Street near the current Marshall Funeral Home and several generations of Langstaff physicians practised medicine there. The kitchen with its skylight provided light for daytime-only surgery.

The house was moved to front onto Hall Street in the 1970s and was recently purchased by developers planning to build townhomes. Street names in the development will have links to its Langstaff legacy, and the house itself is protected with heritage designation.

Over time, the little village straddling Yonge matured, with acres of rose-growing greenhouses on the east, Mill Pond on the west and by the 1950s, it was a one-stop shop complete with Canadian Tire, Woolworths and myriad mom-and-pop shops.

Since then, development has spilled beyond the original village boundaries, but this core neighbourhood remains, surrounded by amenities and echoes of the past.

Many homes closer to Yonge, dating back to the mid-1800s, are inventoried as buildings of architectural and historical importance or designated under the Ontario Heritage Act. Further west, toward the Mill Pond, are modern, ranch-style bungalows and split-level houses built on large lots in the 1950s and '60s.

And in many of those houses, old and new, live generations of villagers whose memories overflow -- and loyalties stay strong.

Ted Bunker is one of those longtime residents.

One of five generations who grew up in the area, he has fond memories of bonfires at the pond, hunting for crayfish, and foraging through shoreline grass and slippery muddy edges.

Bunker’s great-grandmother first settled on a 10-acre farm at the north end of the village (Lavinia White parkette is named after her). Now, he is raising his own three kids a few blocks away where they, too, feel rooted to the community.

“I am always amazed at how many families are still here,” says Andrea Kulesh, president of the Richmond Hill Historical Society. “It was an ideal village. We had everything. There was no reason to move.”

Bert Hunt also saw no reason to leave.

Hunt, who was born in 1927 and died July 15, 2017, was passionate about local history. He recorded memories from “old-timers” and loved to reminisce: swimming in the pond (bulrushes kept the geese out and water clean), skating until your toes froze, warming up at the pot-belly stove in the old pump house.

“You’d go in there, strip down, hang your clothes to dry out. Put them back on and away you’d go back out to play again.”

Mayor Dave Barrow, who was born in a 1.5-storey house on Centre Street behind the town park, also sees reminders of the past throughout the village.

His father, along with Bert Hunt and others, called themselves the “McConaghy Old Boys” -- classmates from public school who grew up together, then grew old together.

The mayor continues the old-boy tradition with his own McConaghy playmates, sharing memories like sneaking into the fair, skating in circles in the arena Saturday nights and eating gritty sandwiches in backyard sandbox birthday parties.

He stands in the parking lot behind McConaghy and pictures the baseball games.

“We weren’t able to hit it over the fence toward the cemetery and even if we did, we just left it. It was too creepy. We were definitely not athletes.”

Ed Gilbert's family operated a variety and gift shop on Yonge Street.

Gilbert’s grandparents moved to Richmond Hill in 1925, to four acres on the south side of Major Mackenzie. His father recalled trick-or-treating on Yonge Street, residents tossing candy from the upstairs windows, and Ed remembers dates with his first girlfriend, sodas and catching the double feature at the Yonge Street cinema.

The cinema -- where youngsters crammed three-to-a-seat on a Saturday afternoon -- gave way to memories of a different kind when it became the Richmond Inn -- notorious for its mud-wrestling -- and later the hot pink Major Mack Hotel, a.k.a. Pink Palace, a.k.a. Fantasia.

The strip club was reputed to be a front for the busiest brothel in the GTA. A stone’s throw from the war memorial and historic churches, Fantasia was a rough place -- the sign at the entrance warned gang colours must be removed or worn inside out. Politicians fought to have it closed, neighbours complained of lewd behaviour and multiple police raids saw more than 100 staff and visitors charged with prostitution-related offences.

It was closed for good in 2000, and in 2001 the empty building was torched by vandals. Two years later, it was burned to the ground, and owner Riccardo DiGiuseppe was convicted of fraud and sentenced to six years in prison and a $2-million fine.

In 2009, Tridel built the Renaissance condominiums on the site and those echoes of the past faded away.

Not all new developments are seen as an improvement, however.

Infill has become a concern for many residents who moved to the area to avoid cookie-cutter subdivisions. They worry that increased traffic and monster homes could erase the community feel.

Kurbanali Manji spoke to the issue at a recent town hall meeting.

“These plans are outrageous,” he said, referring to a developer's proposal for Arnold Street. “The developer is trying to concrete over so much history and character, destroying the very essence of this wonderful old village area.”

Ward 4 councillor and Mill Pond resident David West sees a constant struggle to ensure that the variety, quaintness and trees don’t get lost in the quest for progress.

“It is diversity in housing location choices that makes Richmond Hill different ... If we allow unfettered infill that is not compatible and sensitive to the unique characteristics … we risk eroding our ‘golden goose.' ”

Anne Winstone worries about change, too.

Growing up on Mill Street -- then a dirt road with a bridge too narrow for two cars to pass, raspberry canes and farmer fields to the west -- Winstone says the community was “a quiet family area” where neighbours gave you privacy but were there, should you need them.

Now the demographics are changing and new cultures are moving in. Winstone, a real estate agent, says the newcomers, too, are attracted to the ambience, amenities and community-led activities like Winter Carnival and Mill Pond Splash.

There are problems, she notes: too much traffic, no parking, heritage restrictions making some homes difficult to sell. Younger buyers are looking for “Gramma’s house” with big lots; they want modern conveniences, too.

But these are just hurdles to get over, she says, and she still loves the village, warts and all. “It is still a lovely area.”

This sentiment is what made that April 1 joke so powerful, says Mark McAlister.

No one wants condos on their Mill Pond, nor do they want careless development to erase the echoes of the past -- and so far, he says, the town has managed to get it right. “It has kept its sense of place.”