[URBAN NOTE] "Captain John’s departure part of encroaching sameness"

[rfmcdonald]

The always-acute Edward Keenan wrote today in the Toronto Star about the import of the departure of Captain John's restaurant from Queens Quay to the shipyard. Yes, it was terrible, he notes, but it also had character. Will Toronto's future be one of characterlessness? (I'm skeptical that this is the case. Surely the city can acquire elements of character that are actually positive?)

Captain John’s was by most reports a terrible restaurant, the kind of place where word of mouth in recent decades held that if you went, you should avoid the seafood, and avoid the food in general if possible. It was musty inside and had grown rusty outside, and it was tacky in its design from the outset. Legions of Torontonians considered it an eyesore.

But you know, it had character, as did owner Letnik, who served as self-appointed captain and chef, and who lived on the boat at least some of the time over the years. Toronto once had a bunch of minor-celebrity eccentrics running its landmark businesses — Mel Lastman, Ed Mirvish, Sam Sniderman (and before them Timothy Eaton, inventor of the money-back guarantee) — and often their shops, like Letnik’s, were pure expressions of their eccentricity.

Slowly, surely, they’re disappearing: Sam the Record Man, World’s Biggest Bookstore, now Captain John’s and soon Honest Ed’s; Jilly’s strip club on Queen East and the Matador after-hours hall on Dovercourt, the little shops in Roy’s Square at Yonge and Bloor, even the nightclubs in the Entertainment District and so many small, unlamented little joints, diners and dives and family-run hardware stores and book shops and curiosity emporia across the city.

Change is the nature of cities, of course — it’s good! — but it’s fair to note the relentless monotony of what replaces the landmarks of yesteryear: green glass towers, Winners, Home Depot, Forever 21, Chipotle, Starbucks. As with most cities in the world, the distinct local features of this place are replaced by the samey-same-sameness of everyplace, the franchises of global culture, outposts of a global esthetic. These places are often prettier than the ones they replace, or at least less gaudy and more dignified. They are often more efficient at delivering goods and services, at better prices, with more consistent products. But they’re boring.