Now known as Pape/Danforth, Danforth Library joined the Toronto cityscape in 1928, the same year as Runnymede branch did (and with the same price tag of $100,000). Pape/Danforth’s Tudor Revival style was an expression of Chief Librarian George Locke’s desire to make the building resemble a ye olde English shoppe: “The front facade is decidedly English in character, the lower part being carried out in stone and the upper in half timber work and stucco panels, with projecting bays surmounted by gables” (quotation cited on page 28 of Margaret Penman’s A Century of Service: Toronto Public Library 1883-1983).
More than a year before the library officially opened in 1929, Dr. Locke spoke to the Toronto Telegram on the topic of new branches: “You cannot make grown people good but you can make them more interesting . . . We are trying to make them more interesting by building libraries” (1 February, 1928). Was this statement a polite way of calling early 20th century Torontonians boring? Maybe George Locke was tired of them complaining about too much fiction in the libraries. And if Locke had found his fellow citizens more charming, would he have pushed to have more libraries built?
I wonder if social scientists of the day were able to prove that witty conversation around Toronto dinner tables had increased in proportion to the growing number of libraries. With 99 libraries at present, we have no excuse to be dull!
Although Pape/Danforth must look quite different on the inside from when Dr. Locke knew it eighty-two years ago, I think he would have approved of the cheery rectangular swathes of space and sections of wooden flooring. While long and narrow, the two floors of the building manage to avoid claustrophobic overcrowding. For instance, the lemon yellow walls on the east side of the main floor made the children’s section seem quite spacious. Tucking books under a long window seat also saved space, making room for an olive-green cushion structure shaped like an amoeba. I was also fond of two stuffed dragons I spotted. They occupied a windowsill each, scaly ears peeled for stories about their cousins.
On the west side of the main floor was a square of wide-planked floorboards that were pleasant to clomp upon. Standing on this stationary wooden raft near the computers, I studied some artwork by Otilia Gruneatu Scriuba. Centaurs, fire, curls of column-tops, and a fit male form filled the canvases. (More of his paintings were on display on the wall beside the landing between the lower and upper floors).
A few paces away from the computers was a sunny reading lounge blessed with a bay window overlooking Pape Avenue. I appreciated the luxurious width of the bay windowsill; it seemed to be a sill for its own sake, celebrating its intrinsic value instead of being pressed into service as a bench or shelf.
Opposite the bay window, a collection of objects in a display window caught my eye. An artistic hand had arranged a red shawl, some bamboo, a glossy necklace, and some books in honour of Asian Heritage Month. I liked this built-in shadow box with extra angles for more intrigue.
When I walked upstairs, I found another bay window directly above the one on the main level. Its sill was also very generous. In fact, it was so generous that one reader had pulled up a chair close to it and was resting her feet on the white sill. I hoped that she wasn’t going to leave footprints on the historic sill or a brown ring from her portable coffee mug. Quelling my inner gremlin of disapproval, I shifted my focus to innocent shelves that offered materials in Chinese, Greek, and French. A strong showing in ESL and Adult Literacy also impressed me.
As I walked towards the Quiet Study Room at the back, I noticed a young patron sitting crossed-legged on the sill of a smaller bay window on the south wall. This particular seated tableaux didn’t bother me because no shoes were involved. On the contrary, I actually appreciated how she inhabited the space unconventionally, adding interest to the visual impact of the room.
I spent a few moments in the restful Quiet Study Room with its dove gray walls and dim light. Equipped with a sink and a small wooden puppet theatre, this room held lots of possibilities for coffee-fueled meetings and entertainment for the pre-coffee set.
Before I left Pape/Danforth, I took one last look at this popular and well-utilized branch. A kind employee at the information desk interepreted my gaze as one of the “Where can I find something?” variety and asked me if I needed any help. Shaking my head no, I thanked her and descended the stairs feeling pleasantly acknowledged. What I really wanted to know, though, was if my visit had made me more interesting!