Sorry for the confusing title. Let me explain.
I did my undergrad degree at the University of Toronto. For four years at that school, I attended lectures, studied in the libraries, and got involved in various activities. One place I spent a lot of free time was Hart House, the student centre on campus. The House’s most prominent feature is probably Soldiers Tower, which is a clock tower containing a carillon, but which also stands as the University’s war memorial. Engraved on the walls of the arch are the names of the members of the University who served in World War II. On a nearby wall (to the left of the tower’s base, as seen in the Wikipedia photo) are the names of those who served in World War I. The area is a major pedestrian thoroughfare on the campus, but it’s not unusual to see students and tourists stopping to look at the names.
When I was a student, rumour had it that there was a military museum in the tower. Nobody I knew, student or faculty, had ever been in it, but everybody seemed to know a guy, who knew another guy, who knew yet another guy, who had actually been in it. At any rate, although I got to some technically inaccessible places in the University during my students days owing to various pranks and stunts (ahem), I never got to the mysterious museum in the tower. Neither did anybody else I knew. The existence of the museum remained a mystery.
Flash forward to last week. I was in Toronto for a few days on some family business, and during a bit of free time, I went downtown. I planned to wander through the University campus, probably take a break for some coffee at Hart House, head over to Yonge Street, and so on. So when I was at Hart House, I looked at the names in the tower, and stopped to sit for a few moments on one of the benches at the base of the tower. Near the door that supposedly led to the tower museum that had never been opened as far as I knew.
And the door opened! As I turned to look, I saw a woman trying to put a shim under the open door so it would stay open. I went up and asked about the museum I’d heard about. Yes, she said, it does exist. Would I like to see it?
:eek:
Yes, of course, so I followed her in. We went up a narrow stone staircase, past a number of stained-glass windows commemorating various things. (You can see one of the windows in the Wikipedia photo–look to the lower right and a window is just “northeast” of the lamp standard.) There was a window for the RCAF, one for the Navy, one for the Merchant Marine, a few for nurses and other women who served, and a somber one for the fallen at Vimy Ridge.
At the top of the stairs was the museum itself: flags and portraits and glass cases containing artifacts. There was even an old German machine gun resting on its tripod on the floor; it had been picked up off a WWI battlefield and brought back as a souvenir before being donated to the University. Some of the portraits I recognized–there was Frederick Banting and Charles Best, researchers at the University who discovered insulin and also served in WWII; and John McCrae, author of “In Flanders Fields,” and another student at the University. But there were a few portraits I did not know, and they turned out to be ones of the students who had won Victoria Crosses and other important military decorations. Good reason to be commemorated with a portrait!
The glass cases contained rows of service medals and decorations: Victoria Crosses, Distinguished Flying Crosses, and so many more. Some Canadian Voluntary Service Medals even had Dieppe bars, commemorating one’s service in that botch-up. The artifacts were interesting; along with many photos and small items a soldier might carry (such as a pocket Bible), there were letters and diaries and other objects. One of the diaries was open to a random page; I read the entry and it was about how the boys had to hurry from their ship to their train, which hurried to the base, where they were hurried into their barracks–which had only just been completed, were unfurnished, and so everybody had to sleep on the hard wooden floor, instead of the relative comfort of the ship or train. “Rotten management!” the author concluded, proving that it is a soldier’s right to complain, no matter what the army or conflict.
Over all was a beautiful stained-glass window (the big Gothic window you can see in the Wiki photo) commemorating Canada’s coming-of-age in World War I. At the bottom are youthful soldiers heading off to war; near the top are rows of crosses in a field; above that is a riot of clouds and colour. Sorry, folks, I wish I could remember the story of the window better, but that the best I can recall right now. I do recall that the window faces south and catches the sunshine very well.
The woman–who turned out to be one of the museum curators–explained that the tower museum is only open to the public a few days a year, though an appointment could be made to view it at other times. Further, only a few artifacts from the collection were on display since they had so many–the University was founded in 1827, so the complete collection of student and faculty war memorabilia included things from the Fenian Raids (dating back to the 1860s), the Northwest Rebellion of 1885, and the Boer War. But since most visitors to the museum were themselves veterans of more recent conflicts (though as time goes by and the vets age, that is changing), the museum displayed items that might be more familiar to them. Though, of course, some things would always be on display, such as the portraits and the decorations belonging to those in the portraits.
When I was done, I thanked the curator and signed the guest book, and walked down the stairs, knowing that even though the museum was small, I had managed to see a great dose of Canadian military history and University of Toronto history, and I had confirmed the existence of a place I’d only heard rumours of. If any Dopers are current or past U of T students or faculty and have themselves wondered about the rumours of a military museum in Soldiers Tower; well, I’ll be “the guy” who has actually been in there.