Is this a stickup?

The history of Toronto donut shops

Last night my girlfriend and I were driving to see some theatre. That’s a whole other story. I go to theatre now. In the seven years we’ve been together I have seen more shows than in the previous fifty odd years of adult life. Maybe someday I’ll tell you what I’ve learned about theatre.

We often drive on Dupont to get to the east end of Toronto. And last night we were passing that block that runs between St George and Davenport. At the corner of St George there’s a pet supply store. That used to be a donut shop

I told my girlfriend the story of something that happened to me in that donut shop though. And then a similar story of something that once happened in a Mac’s milk. The stories are related. And apparently, I don’t come off very well in either of the stories. You tell me later when you read them.

The show we went to see was a monologue starring Nicky Guadagni, it was called Smart and she portrayed Elizabeth Smart, the Canadian writer who most famously wrote “By Grand Central Station I sat down and wept”. The piece is made of writings by and about Ms. Smart and it was one of the more entertaining shows I’ve seen in the last seven years

Towards the end of the piece she tells us that for a time she frequented the donut shop at Walmer and Bloor in Toronto. And after that I couldn’t stop thinking about me and the donut shops in my life.

The donut shop Elizabeth referred to, I remember distinctly but it wasn’t one of my spots. I mostly went to donut shops when I was driving. This place was in my neighborhood so I wouldn’t normally have haunted it. But I distinctly remember seeing people sitting in the window of that shop. Elizabeth tells us she used to sit there all night, and everyone just called her Betty. I could almost see her there. I certainly have seen older women like her, hanging around the donut shop.

I know Tim Hortons is a donut shop. And I have no explanation for why I’m saying this but I feel like we don’t have any donut shops anymore even though we have a whole bunch of Tim Hortons. I know that really doesn’t make sense. Tim Hortons is a donut shop I suppose. The people sitting at the tables look to me like people at a donut shop have always looked. But I can’t help feeling that it’s not what I think of as a donut shop.

I used to go to the Second Cup at Bloor near Bathurst a lot. When I think back on it, Second Cup was like a transitional space between the domination of donut shops and the present domination of barista-led institutions.

Someone, not me, might call it a liminal space.

The first donut shop I knew of was called Mr. Donut. And I believe that first Mr Donut in Toronto was around Yonge and Sheppard but soon after there was also one at Bathurst and Wilson, which was the one I visited most often. I’m not sure how many there were eventually. But the reason I remember Mr Donut – or Mr D – so well, is because when they came to Toronto, from Boston, in the mid sixties, the company hired my very own father to be their accountant in Canada.

I can tell you about another Mr Donut that opened around 1976. It was at corner of Vaughn and St. Clair and the reason I know that is because I shot the last scene of my aforementioned 1977 film school film The Boys, in that shop. We had been anticipating it opening and it opened just in time to get this shot for my film.

Taking the four guys in the film to Mr Donut that night and shooting them sitting at the counter was one of those lucky accidents that sometimes happen when you make a film.

When Mr D first got to Toronto, it was one of the first fast food franchises I had ever seen. When I was talking about it last night with my girlfriend I had the feeling that I could actually taste their coffee. My favorite donuts were the honey dip and the plain donut. Much later in life I had a few years of romance with the apple cruller.

After Mr Donut, a couple of other donut franchises came to the city. One was Country Style. The word “country” somehow went with donuts; presumably evoking a downhome rural feel. Right now I can’t produce any proof but I was sure we also had a donut franchise named Town and Country Donuts.

I don’t remember if we had any Dunkin’ Donuts locations. Nor do I remember any Robins donuts in Toronto.

The reason donut shops became so important to me in my life, besides that donuts were delicious and I miss eating them, is because I drove cab at night for a good 18 years or so and the only place to urinate was in a 24 hour coffee shop; so you’d rent the coffee as they say and then find another coffee shop to get rid of it.

Cars had no cup holders back then. We’d try to wedge our cups between the dashboard and the window and if we didn’t shove it in there hard enough, there could be disastrous results. I’m also reminded how an old cabbie showed me how to tear a hole in the coffee lid so you could drink it with the lid on. Eventually of course they started making lids with special tabs. Old cabbies should have gotten paid residuals for those tabs.

Toronto used to be full of 24 hour donut shops. There’s lots of corners I drive by to this day, like Lawrence and Weston Road and I remember the donut shops I used to regularly visit on my taxi rounds.

Getting back to the donut shop at Dupont and St George, I don’t remember which franchise it belonged to. Somebody is going to read this and suggest it was maybe a Coffee Time. Maybe it was. Not that it makes a difference to the story, but I choose not to sully this memory with the notion of a Coffee Time donut shop because they were by far the worst coffee shop franchise that ever came to Toronto. And there was a reason for that. But we don’t need to get into that now.

It was nighttime. I approached the counter. There was a young man waiting there and as I got there and tried to address the young woman behind the counter, it was clear she was confused or distracted or emotional. All I knew was that when I tried to get her attention, she glanced over at me, gave me a blank expression and then returned her attention to the young man.

She was frozen. And he looked impatient and a bit nervous. And he was gesturing to her in an unclear way that she should hurry up.

At least in my memory, I’m certain he didn’t have a gun. I don’t even think he had a knife. I think if he had, he would have brandished it at me or warned me off with it. But when he glanced at me, he was more annoyed than threatening. I think maybe he had one of his hands shoved in his pocket and that hand he was shaking strenuously.

I don’t remember how I discerned the situation. Did I ask the young woman “Is he robbing you?”. Or did I ask the young man “Are you robbing her?” Or did I just ask them collectively “Is this a stickup?”. I don’t remember. It’s also possible she said to me “He’s robbing me”. The only thing I think I can be sure of is that at no point did the young man turn to me and say “Hey man, wait your turn. I’m trying to rob her”.

If I had to guess which one of those things occurred, I would guess that I turned to him and asked “Are you trying to rob her?” The only reason I’m choosing that one is because I do seem to recall that there was a point where he looked at me and nodded in a way as to confirm my suspicions. And when he had confirmed it, I then looked at her and she also nervously nodded.

There were other folks in the place going about their business, as people do in a donut shop.

Some of you will no doubt ask why didn’t I tell him that I was going to go phone the cops. I don’t know. This was pre-cell phone so maybe I just didn’t know where the phone was. And I didn’t think it was necessary I guess.

I’m almost sure that at some point I did say something like “well can you hurry up and rob her so I can get my coffee?” I don’t believe I directed the comment at her. I don’t think I said “Can you hurry up and give him the money….”. I think perhaps I just addressed the comment to the both of them.

“Can we hurry this along”.

I know that doesn’t make me look good. But all I can say in my defense is that I don’t remember any part of this where the situation actually felt threatening, to me or to her. She was obviously scared, poor thing, but I seem to recall that I wasn’t worried for her. I think he was threatening her but he didn’t follow up in any way and like I say, if he had had a weapon, he would certainly have brandished it in my direction.

I think what was happening was that he was threatening her and she was young and inexperienced and scared, but at the same time she hadn’t opened the register yet and that was because perhaps, she didn’t know if she really had to.

That’s why she was frozen.

I don’t remember how it ended. I know I didn’t just leave. I was concerned enough to stay. I think that he left and I’m pretty sure he left without money. I kind of remember that I did eventually get my coffee, and I wish I could say she gave it to me for free. But then again, I didn’t exactly rescue her.

Not much of a story I know but at the same time you can understand how it would be memorable for me.

The story I told my girlfriend on a similar theme, happened in a Mac’s milk also at night. I came in the store, it was pretty quiet, I started to gather whatever it was I was buying. Milk. Some sugary cakes to consume in shame. I thought I heard a muffled voice but I couldn’t locate it until I got to the display fridge at which point, I saw a woman behind the fridge with this pleading expression. It startled me. Through two layers of glass and various luncheon meats she looked ghost like.

But eventually I understood that she was gesturing for me to open a door and when I did, she came rushing out telling me that a thief had locked her in there while he made off with the loot. So she goes to the phone to call the police and I go to the counter to check out my goods.

But she won’t ring me out. She’s too busy phoning people and telling them what happened and generally catching her breath. And she seems a bit annoyed that I’m standing there wanting to pay for my milk. And I’m a bit annoyed that she doesn’t say to me “Just take it”. After all, though it didn’t take much for me to do so, in this case I did rescue her. But she just stares at me like “are you still here” and I stare at her like “let me get my milk and get the fuck out of here”

As I recall I didn’t get the milk.

My girlfriend asks me why I didn’t think I should help her. I guess I felt that I had helped her and now I just wanted my goddamn milk. The cops were coming. Was the thief going to come back and scream “I told you to stay in there!!”

Anyway I welcome any memories of Toronto donut shops. Or any names of franchises you remember. And anything else you want to share.

I think I have a DVD burn of my film The Boys and if I had any way of playing it, I would get a screen grab of that Mister Donut shot in the film, but the DVD drive in our house doesn’t seem to work. However I did find this amazing archival shot of the corner of St. Clair and Vaughn which was taken when the Mister Donut was there. It’s great to see that Mister Donut sign, as well as a nice shot of an old streetcar. I wish I could get this frame blown up and framed. I’m not good at guessing cars but those look kind of eighties to me. There’s a big sign that says Heritage. I don’t remember what that was.