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The Big, Big Smoke

On April 20, 1904, thousands of disbelieving Torontonians, having heard rumours that the very heart of their beloved city of 226,365 souls had been destroyed by fire, quietly made their way downtown, fearful of what they would find. In an era well before the advent of radio, television, or Internet reporting, citizens had to rely on the local newspaper (and most of those stories were hours or days old), word of mouth from neighbours, or stories relayed over the telephone for updates on events unfolding around them. Without confirmation through one of these methods, no sane person could ever believe that such a conflagration had destroyed the city’s commercial heart. They had to see it for themselves.

Approaching the business area south of King and west of Yonge streets, Torontonians encountered a view that was truly unbelievable. Virtually every building on Bay, Wellington, and Front streets, right down to the warehouses and docks at the water’s edge, had been visited by the “fire fiend,” with most succumbing to the roaring flames. The once-busy streets and sidewalks were littered with fallen brick, while thick acrid smoke and the smell of charred wood filled the air. This wasn’t Toronto; it was Hell.

Subsequent insurance company and fire department investigations placed the number of destroyed or severely damaged buildings at almost 125, with monetary losses in excess of $10 million. Worse still, 6,000 people were out of work. Could Toronto survive this setback? Many believed it wouldn’t be long before Toronto’s rival at the head of the lake, Hamilton, would assume the role of new commercial heart of the province.

Bay Street looking north from Wellington towards City Hall, 1904.

Front Street looking west across Yonge, Bank of Montreal (now the Hockey Hall of Fame) on the right, 1904.

Those same investigations traced the source of the fire to the Currie Neckwear Company factory on the north side of Wellington Street a few doors west of the Bay Street corner. Up on the top floor a hot iron had been left too close to a pile of rags. Soon after the City Hall clock had chimed 8:00 p.m. that cold, blustery April 19 evening, flames erupted and quickly blew out nearby windows. Seeking fresh air, the flames leaped out of those windows and, caught by the wind, swept into adjacent buildings. Soon all four buildings at the Bay and Wellington corner were in flames.

And the fire just kept spreading. Low water pressure in the mains (a problem that City Council had refused to correct, even though downtown Toronto had been visited by a trio of major conflagrations over the previous decade) meant that the task facing the firefighters was an almost impossible one. They would do their best, but just how far the flames would spread was anybody’s guess. As the fire grew in intensity and more buildings came crashing down, it was obvious the city could use some help. Calls went out, and soon firemen and equipment began arriving on railway flatcars from Hamilton, Brantford, Niagara Falls, and Buffalo. Even the nearby communities of Kew Beach, Toronto Junction, and East Toronto (all still autonomous entities), as small as they were, came to the big city’s assistance.

Firemen and equipment in use at the time of the Great Toronto Fire of 1904.