Early on the morning of January 4th, my wife woke me with the news that there was a fire on Jarvis south of Carlton if I felt like getting up for some good photos. It was -15 degrees, dark outside, and I was tired, so I fell back to sleep. As is typical, I kicked myself afterwards for my lack of motivation. Now, all you can see of the site is the burnt out peak of the roof and a plywood fence to keep people out.
The building is 150 years old, an example of Beaux Art classicism (so says a Toronto Star article), and is designated a heritage building (which means it’s an impediment to further development). There’s no info as to the cause of the fire. It should be noted that the building was unoccupied and no one was injured.
Fortunately for me, I did have enough motivation to get to the site before the boards went up. It was still cold and a lot of the water that had been sprayed on the building had stayed behind to decorate the mayhem.
Naturally, there was a security guard posted to keep the gawkers out. He followed me around. I assumed that he assumed that I was going to try to sneak into the building for some interior shots, so I thought I better say something to assure him I’m not stupid. I should know better than to assume anything of anyone. Before I had two words out of my mouth, he asked me a gear question.
“Oh, so you’re a photographer too?”
“Yeah, I’m a bit of an addict,” he said. It turns out he wasn’t worried that I might do something; he was curious to know how I was seeing, how I was framing things, what I was shooting. Then he pointed me to the other side of the building. I might find the ice there kind of interesting. I thanked him and went where he pointed while he went back to his car to stay warm.
Us photographers, we’re like a secret society. We have a handshake and everything.
