Central Don Stables

Just when you think that things can’t get any worse, they usually do.

That’s what I was thinking when I was summoned into Inspector Johnson’s

office on a Friday afternoon. “I’ve had a call from Headquarters concerning

you, he said. “Great”, I thought, “Just what I need. They’ve found out

about the farm and I’m in deep shit!” But, apparently, that was not what this

was all about because the Inspector just passed a file folder across his desk

to me saying, “What’s this all about?”

The brown manila file folder was stamped with the familiar logo of

the Toronto Parks Department. I had no idea what it might contain.

When I opened it I felt like I had bumped into an old friend.

Inside was a proposal that I had drafted and submitted to the Parks

Department when I was seventeen years old. I had forgotten all about it and

now as I flicked through the typed pages and illustrations I had done, I

wondered why it had surfaced after all these years. The reply I had received

at the time was curt and condescending and I was surprised that they kept

the idea on their records.

When I was a teenager attending high school, I had a small stable

on Bayview Ave. on a ridge above the Don River Valley. I made a little

extra money giving riding lessons and taking people on trail rides, south

along the river through the old Sunnybrook Farm. At the time the Parks

Department did not have responsibility for the area but it was rumoured that

they might in the future. I was fascinated with the beautiful structures that

stood unused. It was like a ghost village hidden in the heart of the city. The

barns in particular took my eye and I reasoned that if, in fact, the area were

to become a public park it would be a wonderful opportunity to establish a

riding school and designate bridle paths.

As I read more carefully through the pages of recommendations that

I had made almost seven years earlier I wondered at how naive and full of

lofty ideals I must have been to even think that a kid from Cabbage Town

would be listened to.

Under the photocopies of my old submission I found a copy of a

tender application for obtaining a concession to operate a riding school at the

old Sunny Brook farm. It was to be the focal point of the newly established

Central Don Park System. The descriptions of how it was to operate and

what needed to be done to the existing buildings had been taken verbatim

from my original submission.

The previous day Inspector Johnson had been called to a meeting with

Tommy Thompson who was the current flamboyant Parks Commissioner, to

discuss the possibility of the Mounted Unit moving their Headquarters to the

newly established park, an idea Big Ed was instantly in favour of, when the

issue of a public riding school sharing the accommodation came up. He was

asked his opinion and then passed the file and while reading through it, he

happened to see my submission. He immediately recognized my name and

explained to the Commissioner that I was currently serving in his Unit. This

came as surprise to the clerk in charge of the tender process. Apparently they

had been trying to locate me to invite me to tender but so much time had

passed and I had changed address so often that they were unable to locate

me.

I think the Inspector and the people from the Parks Department

realized that with one of their own, as it were, in charge of the public riding

school the relationship between it and the Police Department was bound to

be better than if some unknown, unpredictable stranger were to move in next

door.

Apparently it was Inspector Johnson’s assignment to talk me into

submitting a tender and quite frankly, he was doing a hell of a job. He

assured me that I had nothing to lose and everything to gain: if things didn’t

work out I could always have my job on the Mounted Unit back.

I mulled it over, but not for long. I submitted my tender like everyone

else, offering twelve hundred dollars a month for the facilities, a huge sum

for me in those days. In retrospect, I could have offered a lot less because

other considerations were in play and the process was less a competition and

more in the order of an appointment. In any event, my tender was accepted

and a new chapter in my life began.

I had just been given a wonderful opportunity to do something that

had been on my mind for years. I wanted to establish a riding school that

would be affordable and available to anybody who wanted to use it. I had

grown up for the most part an inner city kid. I loved horses but had very

little opportunity to spend much time with them. I knew every delivery horse

in the city but my riding experience, when I was very young, was limited to

a few hours a month.

I would ride the old Young St. trolley to the city limits at Hog’s

Hollow and then hike the rest of the way to Vern Mason’s riding school--it

used to be situated further up in the Don Valley. There, if I spent the

morning mucking out stalls for him, I was allowed to go out on a one-hour

trail ride. Later as he realized that I had a certain natural ability, he would

occasionally use me to lead these rides.

There were kids like me all over the city and there still were now. I

had seen their interest as I rode the police horses around the city. I knew that

there were thousands of people young and old who would love the

opportunity to be near horses and learn about them.

In my early teens I had eventually made my way out of the city and

had the opportunity to improve my skills spending long hours in the saddle,

breaking and training young horses. Eventually I felt that there was very

little that I couldn’t do with a horse. However, I got my training at The

School of Hard Knocks, the only academy I could afford, and it irked me to

think that learning to ride was still only available to the privileged few who

could afford to pay for the fancy gear and the expensive lessons.

I had a wonderful new stable of my own design now and I also had a

mission.

My sisters, Noreen and Jan, have recently sent me copies of the

original brochures I had printed. I didn’t know any still existed, and they tell

the story of what I intended to do and for the most part what actually

happened.

The school was an instant success and within a few short weeks

hundreds of students were enrolled and I was kept busy finding suitable

horses and qualified riding instructors.