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Archivistower
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The big Y
The downtown YMCA is an architectural treasure
where the urban menagerie is on full parade
by Shawn Micallef
On Grosvenor Street, just west of Yonge in between Wellesley and College Streets, there's a mural painted on the pavement in front of Toronto Fire Station 314 that reads "Running the Strip since 1871." I read it every time I walk by on my way to the Metro Central YMCA next door. I love the way it celebrates and mythologizes both the fire department and Yonge Street.
The Y is another mythologized organization that has been a part of this city for 150 years, and the Metro Central is its heart. Here on Grosvenor, 11,000 Torontonians of all shades, shapes and sizes come together to get ripped abs, to learn English or to get help in finding a job. Before I joined, I thought the Y was just a gym. Now I think it's as important an institution as the Red Cross or Station 314.
The Metro Central Y is part of the YMCA of Greater Toronto, and as far as gyms go, it's a palace. Opened in 1984, the building was designed by Jack Diamond's firm, the folks who are building the new Opera House at University and Queen, and it's one of our best public(ish) buildings. It's a collection of different geometric shapes wrapped around a six-storey grand central staircase called the Athlete's Stairs, designed as a meeting place where people can bump into each other and chat.
When it opened, architecture critic Adele Freedman said, "It is tall enough to inspire heavenly thought." Never mind that my fear of heights makes me feel like I might start rolling down those stairs, taking out an athlete or two -- the space just soars, and being able to see other parts of the building while in it makes it feel like we're all part of some kind of intricate machine.
It's that openness that makes this building great. From nearly every room, you can look into another and watch people play basketball, swim, stretch or do a weird yoga move. The running track, suspended over the gymnasium, passes through two or three distinct spaces, depending on how the gym is divided up.
One side might have a life-or-death struggle over a puck or a volleyball and the other will have folks sweating away doing step aerobics to really bad circuit techno. I often wonder if their struggle would be easier if the instructor played good music -- the odd times they drop Madonna, I'm certain I run faster. The pool was inspired by the architecture of Roman baths and has a vaulted ceiling, full of round skylights that allow beams of sunlight to pierce the water. They look brilliant underwater.
Inside the building, the Y's slogan, "We build strong kids, strong families and strong communities," is everywhere. Most anyplace else it would give me the creeps. Not here, though. There isn't any of the moralizing that usually goes along with those kinds of words. Community service, according to general manager Lesley Davidson, is something they're proud to do. The Y's services are also available to those who can't afford the fees: staff will assess the financial state of an individual or family and reduce or cover fees accordingly. "About 30 per cent of our patrons are on assistance," says Davidson. "That's representative of the poverty levels in Toronto."
The Y's new family pricing strategy will let an entire family join for $75. "We noticed we were not serving working families well," Davidson explains. "Upper-income families were fine, and lower-income ones could apply for assistance -- but these families were left out." Davidson says the Y worked with the Toronto Health Department to identify targets like childhood obesity, and letting more families join will help reduce this growing trend.
This earnestness has a long history behind it. The Young Men's Christian Association was founded in London, England in 1844 by George Williams, a teetotalling evangelical Christian who wanted to provide an urban alternative to the taverns, brothels and other sinful temptations of the city. Until 1984, the Metro Central Y was on College at Bay, where the police headquarters now resides. The old building included a 157-bed hotel, a service no longer provided.
It was the affordable accommodation and accepting atmosphere that gave Ys around the world a storied place in gay history, a role that declined after the 1970s, when gay went mainstream. The Metro Central is still listed as a cruising spot on gay websites, but that might be wishful thinking. I've never noticed anything more than the flirty backwards glances that make public life exciting. Once, a guy in the change room offered to show me his collection of 1972 Mark Spitz swimwear, but I'm sure he was just being friendly.
Today, the Y is a secular organization. I'm glad, because few things are as rewarding as a drink after a late evening swim. On weekdays, the Y is open until 11pm. I usually go after 9pm and wander around the machines on the main floor or read while riding a bike. Upstairs, there is a free-weight room, but all that freedom seems dangerous and the people are more serious up there, judging by the loud grunting.
The people at the Y are as diverse as Toronto and not at all intimidating. Some exercise conventionally, while others do things like roll basketballs all over their bodies. I have secret nicknames for many of the characters there: The Russian Bear who sprinkles herbal water on sauna rocks and says "good for the lungs, good for the skin"; Underwear Man, who thinks his underpants are suitable to exercise in; Stink King, who doesn't wipe his terrible odour from the equipment; and Ari-Fleischer-Doppelganger, who is too serious for his own good.
They mix in with the businesswomen, computer geeks, punks and new Canadians who use the Y. In the showers I catch glimpses of horrific looking scars on some naked bodies -- some backstories are considerably more fraught and violent than the suburban Ontario one I enjoyed. The Y is an oasis from all that, and a good place to rest and be well before returning to the fine and sinful temptations of the Yonge Street Strip.
Shawn Micallef is an editor of Spacing and This magazines and a founder of the [murmur] project (and a forum member).
The downtown YMCA is an architectural treasure
where the urban menagerie is on full parade
by Shawn Micallef
On Grosvenor Street, just west of Yonge in between Wellesley and College Streets, there's a mural painted on the pavement in front of Toronto Fire Station 314 that reads "Running the Strip since 1871." I read it every time I walk by on my way to the Metro Central YMCA next door. I love the way it celebrates and mythologizes both the fire department and Yonge Street.
The Y is another mythologized organization that has been a part of this city for 150 years, and the Metro Central is its heart. Here on Grosvenor, 11,000 Torontonians of all shades, shapes and sizes come together to get ripped abs, to learn English or to get help in finding a job. Before I joined, I thought the Y was just a gym. Now I think it's as important an institution as the Red Cross or Station 314.
The Metro Central Y is part of the YMCA of Greater Toronto, and as far as gyms go, it's a palace. Opened in 1984, the building was designed by Jack Diamond's firm, the folks who are building the new Opera House at University and Queen, and it's one of our best public(ish) buildings. It's a collection of different geometric shapes wrapped around a six-storey grand central staircase called the Athlete's Stairs, designed as a meeting place where people can bump into each other and chat.
When it opened, architecture critic Adele Freedman said, "It is tall enough to inspire heavenly thought." Never mind that my fear of heights makes me feel like I might start rolling down those stairs, taking out an athlete or two -- the space just soars, and being able to see other parts of the building while in it makes it feel like we're all part of some kind of intricate machine.
It's that openness that makes this building great. From nearly every room, you can look into another and watch people play basketball, swim, stretch or do a weird yoga move. The running track, suspended over the gymnasium, passes through two or three distinct spaces, depending on how the gym is divided up.
One side might have a life-or-death struggle over a puck or a volleyball and the other will have folks sweating away doing step aerobics to really bad circuit techno. I often wonder if their struggle would be easier if the instructor played good music -- the odd times they drop Madonna, I'm certain I run faster. The pool was inspired by the architecture of Roman baths and has a vaulted ceiling, full of round skylights that allow beams of sunlight to pierce the water. They look brilliant underwater.
Inside the building, the Y's slogan, "We build strong kids, strong families and strong communities," is everywhere. Most anyplace else it would give me the creeps. Not here, though. There isn't any of the moralizing that usually goes along with those kinds of words. Community service, according to general manager Lesley Davidson, is something they're proud to do. The Y's services are also available to those who can't afford the fees: staff will assess the financial state of an individual or family and reduce or cover fees accordingly. "About 30 per cent of our patrons are on assistance," says Davidson. "That's representative of the poverty levels in Toronto."
The Y's new family pricing strategy will let an entire family join for $75. "We noticed we were not serving working families well," Davidson explains. "Upper-income families were fine, and lower-income ones could apply for assistance -- but these families were left out." Davidson says the Y worked with the Toronto Health Department to identify targets like childhood obesity, and letting more families join will help reduce this growing trend.
This earnestness has a long history behind it. The Young Men's Christian Association was founded in London, England in 1844 by George Williams, a teetotalling evangelical Christian who wanted to provide an urban alternative to the taverns, brothels and other sinful temptations of the city. Until 1984, the Metro Central Y was on College at Bay, where the police headquarters now resides. The old building included a 157-bed hotel, a service no longer provided.
It was the affordable accommodation and accepting atmosphere that gave Ys around the world a storied place in gay history, a role that declined after the 1970s, when gay went mainstream. The Metro Central is still listed as a cruising spot on gay websites, but that might be wishful thinking. I've never noticed anything more than the flirty backwards glances that make public life exciting. Once, a guy in the change room offered to show me his collection of 1972 Mark Spitz swimwear, but I'm sure he was just being friendly.
Today, the Y is a secular organization. I'm glad, because few things are as rewarding as a drink after a late evening swim. On weekdays, the Y is open until 11pm. I usually go after 9pm and wander around the machines on the main floor or read while riding a bike. Upstairs, there is a free-weight room, but all that freedom seems dangerous and the people are more serious up there, judging by the loud grunting.
The people at the Y are as diverse as Toronto and not at all intimidating. Some exercise conventionally, while others do things like roll basketballs all over their bodies. I have secret nicknames for many of the characters there: The Russian Bear who sprinkles herbal water on sauna rocks and says "good for the lungs, good for the skin"; Underwear Man, who thinks his underpants are suitable to exercise in; Stink King, who doesn't wipe his terrible odour from the equipment; and Ari-Fleischer-Doppelganger, who is too serious for his own good.
They mix in with the businesswomen, computer geeks, punks and new Canadians who use the Y. In the showers I catch glimpses of horrific looking scars on some naked bodies -- some backstories are considerably more fraught and violent than the suburban Ontario one I enjoyed. The Y is an oasis from all that, and a good place to rest and be well before returning to the fine and sinful temptations of the Yonge Street Strip.
Shawn Micallef is an editor of Spacing and This magazines and a founder of the [murmur] project (and a forum member).