Even if you don't live there, you know the gates, since you've seen them while whizzing by on Kingston Road. And that's good: Spencer Clark wanted to make an impression.
Forged in Britain in 1839 for Toronto's Stanley Barracks, the gates were installed at this location 50 years ago. Those who've gone through them and down that winding road … well, they'll tell you about the inn, and all those anniversary, birthday and graduation parties they attended there. And that's too bad: The inn (built in 1914) was the cultural heart of this community until the city allowed it to flat-line.
But ask those who live here, and they'll tell you what really makes Guildwood Village the jewel of Scarborough.
"Trees," Bill Moore, 88, says matter-of-factly.
Top, prospective buyers tour the site. Centre left, the gates. Centre right, an early newspaper ad. Bottom, Bill Moore, 88, in the driveway of his 1950s-era Guildwood home. (PHOTOS COURTESY UNIVERSITY OF WATERLOO / J.P. MOCZULSKI/THE GLOBE AND MAIL)
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"After the war a lot of the new developments were bald of trees — not a tree in sight — and when you came down here, there was space between the houses and lots of trees and the Guild Inn, which was very attractive at the time. It wasn't long before we packed up and moved down here."
It was March, 1959, to be exact, when Mr. Moore and family moved to Rosa and Spencer Clark's cozy little village, which had opened, officially, less than two years before with a ceremony on Aug. 28, 1957.
Back then, while the media were focused on the "Avenue of Homes" — 12 model residences priced between $25,000 and $30,000 on Toynbee Trail near Chancery Lane — folks considering a purchase were looking up at all that rich, thick foliage and envisioning shady backyard barbecues underneath.
The trees — which included "elms, big ash trees, maple, beech, sycamore and a rare species, Changrae hickory" — were what "attracted Rosa [Clark]" to the Scarborough Bluffs site, Carole M. Lidgold says in The History of the Guild Inn (Brookridge Publishing House, 2000). Ms. Clark purchased it and started the artist's co-operative Guild of All Arts with second husband Spencer in 1932, the author writes.
It's always been about the trees. After the Second World War, when a series of exorbitant property-tax hikes forced the Clarks into building Guildwood Village in the first place, their priority was that their 500 acres remain heavily wooded.
To achieve this, Mr. Clark, an engineer, had aerial photographs taken in wintertime so the location of each tree could be mapped, then, wherever possible, he and town planner Dr. Eugene Faludi placed their English-inspired "garden community" in between them.
"It's sort of country and yet it's near the city," confirms May Knudsen, 79, who watched Guildwood Village grow up around her 1954 home. (Her house was built as part of an earlier six-home development in what was then called "Lakeview Terrace.")
Before the Clarks' dream became a reality, she adds, the clouds of mosquitoes were so thick in the "bush" that teams of exterminators had to be called in before construction could commence.
Once it did, however, it became apparent that it wasn't your average suburb. Not only were those entrance gates impressive, the homes built by the seven development companies employed by Guildwood Developments Ltd. were larger and more impressive than average. Power lines were buried underground for a clean, modern look and, writes Ms. Lidgold, "included in the plan were three miles of park walkways" to encourage pedestrian activity.
On a sunny, late afternoon a few weeks ago, Ms. Lidgold was kind enough to show me around the half-century-old village, which will celebrate this milestone with a plaque-unveiling ceremony tomorrow at 11:30 a.m. in the Spencer and Rosa Clark Parkette (Guildwood Parkway and Prince Philip Boulevard). Ms. Lidgold and Mr. Moore will be among the many speakers.
After meeting at the Guild Inn — "It's the city's fault that this is falling apart," she sighs — and being introduced to villager Val Wright, owner of a 1961 Cadillac-Henley-built home since it was new, we decide to look at the former model houses on Toynbee Trail.
Impeccably maintained and almost impossible to see through all the leaves, they've changed only slightly from the vintage photographs I've seen. May Tait, an 89-year-old widow and owner of one of the former models, remembers when she bought in '59, the real estate dealer handed her a promotional picture of the popular singer Juliette lounging on a chesterfield in her living room. "I was quite pleased about that," she laughs.
As we view the modernist apartment buildings and the townhouse complex at the bottom of Livingston Road, I ask Ms. Lidgold about her book. It started in 1998 after a conversation with American-born sculptor Dorsey James (who worked in the Guild's sculpture cabin), and took two years to complete.
Since "the Clarks never threw out a piece of paper," research came easy, she says. In fact, there was so much material, the real problem was deciding what to leave out. We drive over the railroad tracks on Galloway Road past the village proper to view a few of the old 1920s-era cottages, and then wrap up our tour.
Over all, it's how little Guildwood has changed that's most impressive. Mr. Moore, who moved to rural Scarborough with his family in 1936 and spent the first night of his 56-year marriage at the Guild Inn, confirms this. While there's a "monster home" going up on a street adjacent to his own that "looks a little bit out of place," his frequent drives around the neighbourhood prove that to be the exception. "It still looks very, very attractive and much like it did when we first saw it."
With its active residents' association, the popular "Guildwood Day" festivities, annual community yard sale, and a shared wish for the rebirth of the inn, it's a safe bet it'll stay that way for another 50 years.
Well, except for the trees — they'll be much, much taller.
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