I have been an ardent fan of live performance theatre for most of my life. I was five years old and seated in the Eaton Auditorium when I first witnessed the magic created by actors upon a stage. They transported me into an alternate reality which engaged my child’s imagination so completely that it was never fully released. To this day, I remain hooked on live theatre.

Looking back, I must have been a pain to my mother and aunt — both regular theatre-goers — demanding, wheedling and sometimes begging to be included when they attended a play. And particularly when that performance was at the Eaton Auditorium.

It was a grand venue designed by the French architect Jacques Carlu, whom Lady Eaton had commissioned to create a 1,264-seat auditorium on the seventh floor of the new Eaton’s College Street building in Toronto. The building was a tour-de-force in the Art Moderne style and Carlu carried this forward on the seventh floor to design spaces which evoked a sense of being in a luxury ocean liner.

From 1930 to the late 1960s, the Eaton Auditorium was considered to be the cultural centre of the city. It was where one went to see the opera, classical recitals, the ballet, vocal performances and, of course, plays.

But, pursuant with the opening of the Eaton’s Centre and the sale of the College Street building to a developer, the auditorium was closed in 1976.

Although the new owners of the building promised — as a provision within the agreement of sale — to preserve the seventh floor, in short order the developers applied for a demolition permit, claiming that its preservation and restoration were not financially feasible.

A court battle ensued and, in 1986, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled that the 1975 heritage designation of the building under the Ontario Heritage Act protected the seventh floor from demolition.

Now, while it may not have been exposed to a wrecking ball, there was nothing that required the building owners to use, maintain or restore it. Thus, the owners sealed off the seventh floor and, for the next 27 years, it sat in an advancing state of moldering deterioration.

Finally, in 2001, under the ownership of Great West Life Realty Advisors (who had purchased in the building in 1997), restoration of this iconic space began.

The auditorium was reopened on May 1, 2003 under a new name that recognized the original architect. The Carlu was reborn.

It’s probably no surprise, given my attachment to live theatre, that over the past few decades my wife and I have regularly attended performances at the Shaw. In fact, since 2017 it isn’t Christmastime until we attend the performance of A Christmas Carol in the Royal George.

Despite the fact the seating is cramped, the lobby small and the building somewhat the worse for wear, there is something about this venue which pulls at my heartstrings.

Unlike the Eaton building and auditorium, the theatre does not represent great architecture — it was built c. 1915 as a simple vaudeville house and has seen a lot of changes over the years, with its current facade a Peter Stokes’ 1970s design.

Still, it has been a contextual and social feature of the Queen streetscape throughout its existence and particularly so after the Stokes’ intervention.

So, I must admit to being somewhat saddened when the Shaw announced their plan for the redevelopment of the Royal George — which is to say, the old lady will come down and a new theatre built in its place.

However, at the same time, I understand that its foundation is compromised, the quality of its construction (original and subsequent remodels) suspect and the building’s limitations place difficult constraints on its operation as a modern theatre.

Much as I might wish otherwise, sometimes the old simply has to make way for the new.

Therefore, I looked forward to the opportunity to review the Shaw proposal in its entirety … something I had the opportunity to do recently.

Quite frankly, there are a lot of things I like about the proposed facade. The projection incorporating the pediment, vertical elements and openings that recall the existing facade and use of a sympathetic marquee above the main doors are of particular note.

That said, I struggle with the size of the openings and the expanses of plate glass doors and windows. I am also challenged by the Victoria Street wing of the building — which will be constructed after the demolition of three 19th-century buildings — with a proposed facade that presents as commercial/institutional (and includes a loading dock), threatening to fundamentally alter the streetscape of Victoria within the heritage district.

Still, these are items which can be addressed by relatively minor architectural adjustments to the plans.

What cannot be considered minor?

The proposed building is a behemoth completely out of scale with the existing Queen streetscape. It is not a little bit taller than the other buildings on Queen, it is more than twice the height of the next tallest building.

The proposed fly tower will rise to just shy of 62 feet (about 5.1 storeys), will be roughly triple the width (of existing) as viewed from Queen Street and, combined with the new third storey, create a backdrop massing that will completely dominate and overshadow the historic streetscape of the Queen-Picton Heritage Conservation District.

To be clear, I support the Shaw’s overture for redevelopment of the Royal George. However, it must be done sympathetically, within context and not at the expense of the Part V heritage district.

Brian Marshall is a NOTL realtor, author and expert consultant on architectural design, restoration and heritage.