Spacing

The Wall Dogs of Toronto
By Jeremy Hopkin

As a kid growing up in the suburbs I was fairly isolated from the city life that existed west of the Don Valley. My friends and I knew there were interesting things to be discovered downtown, but we were too young to travel there on our own. Once my High School years began, I started to venture out from Scarborough with friends to visit the core of Toronto. Exciting and frightening at the same time.

Quite predictably, my first trips downtown were to the legendary Yonge Street strip. It wasn’t quite what people had told me it used to be, but we still managed to have a fun time at comic book shops, arcades and music stores that were still abundant there.
I also got to finally see some of the places that my parents and grandparents had told me about, the Canadian retail mecca centred around the intersection of Yonge & Queen Streets. Although the T. Eaton Co. department store that my ancestors had known and loved to visit at Christmas was demolished to make way for the Eaton Centre long before my visit, the old Robert Simpson building still stood nearby. Little did I know that both the Simpson’s and Eaton’s brand names were nearing the final days of their legacies.

Continuing my journey along Yonge Street, my neck was continually cranked upward, studying the ornate architectural details of the older buildings; the ones I considered to be the more interesting structures among the concrete, steel and glass of the newer ones.

I remember stopping in my tracks when a fading yet boldly painted wall sign visually shouted HEINTZMAN PIANOS to me from across the street, effectively cutting through all the other sights my eyes were taking in.

The Heintzman name was already quite familiar to me, but this sign made a bold statement. Pianos used in many of the public-school functions I attended, as were several of the ones in my relatives’ homes, and in my parents' friends' houses were made by Heintzman & Co. Due to this fact I once believed that all pianos in the world were created by Heintzman & Co.

Shifting my view to the storefront of the building that the sign was painted on, I didn’t see any pianos for sale. Heintzman too had vacated the Yonge Street strip, roughly 20 years prior to my stumbling upon the building. Yet, here their old wall sign still advertised their wares inside, a ghost of the building’s past that couldn’t realize that time had moved on.

This ghost sign triggered my brain, forcing me to start imagining how the area looked when Heintzman first moved there and had their first wall signs painted there, which as it turned out was 1910.


Following the turn of the last century, this portion of Yonge Street near Queen Street was an intensely popular spot for the sale of musical instruments, phonographs, and later radios. Many of Heintzman’s competitors, such as Nordheimer’s and Mason & Risch were among the instrument retailers that all would soon locate nearby to get in on the action.

Heintzman & Co. didn’t start off on Yonge Street, it began as a humble business on Duke Street and quickly grew until the company moved to a larger location on King Street in the 1860s. After 50 years of business on King, Heintzman moved to Yonge Street. Their famous pianos are still being produced today. The current ‘Heintzman Piano Company’ was established in August 1989 as a joint venture between the Beijing Hsing Hai Musical Instruments Corporation and Canadian shareholders. This company bought the manufacturing equipment and scale designs from the Canadian factory, which are still used in current-production pianos.

Seeing the Heintzman ghost sign also started me thinking about the life and work of the sign painters that put it there. My mind’s eye began to create a little silent movie scene for me to watch of the location as it must have appeared in the 1910s, with a sign painter up on a large swing stage in front of the wall, just painting away. Charlie Chaplin’s ‘Tramp’ may have even snuck in a couple times and almost unknowingly sabotaged the painter’s work.

Painting large advertisements and signage such as this directly to the brick walls of buildings was a distinct branch of the sign writing profession that gained prominence in North America during the latter part of the 19th century. It raised public advertising to an entire new level of communication; their enormous scale, sharp contrast and bright colours lorded over the views within cities and towns in a way that had never been seen before. These unique mural painters were often called ‘Walldogs’.

Although toxic, the paint that sign painters used to create this type of wall sign was also quite durable, standing the test of time. The wall sign on the south side of the Heintzman Building that I noticed back in the 1990s is no longer visible today as it had since been covered over with modern paint. As a result, the ghost sign will gain an extension to its longevity by remaining hidden and protected until the newer paint wears away. Well, that is, unless the ghost sign is forgotten and the surface it chemically stripped during a renovation.

While thinking of the Heintzman sign painters I was also reminded of a family friend named Bill Miller. Throughout the 1980s & ‘90s my Dad would take me to visit his friend Bill and his wife at their apartment in Scarborough. Since I loved drawing and painting from an early age, I was fascinated with Bill’s artistic abilities while watching him decorate his model railway locomotives.


Later I learned that Bill was far more than just an artistic hobbyist, he had been gainfully employed as a sign painter throughout his entire working career. I was a bit shocked because I didn’t believe that anyone could make enough money to have a full career in sign painting and that it could afford a person to support a family for decades.

Bill started his sign painting trade in the 1930s for the White Rose gasoline company, painting bold advertising on fences, signage and billboards surrounding their gasoline stations. He eventually moved on to the Canadian Pacific Railway and spent the rest of his career there stenciling and hand painting lettering onto all of their rolling stock and any other equipment that required lettering.

Throughout his retirement years Bill held on to a love for railways and as a result became a volunteer with the Ontario Rail Society, a railway heritage organization with which my dad also volunteered. Bill’s talent as a sign painter did not go to waste and he once again plied his trade on the sides of antique steam locomotives and passenger cars that would pull many happy people on excursions throughout Ontario. I remember seeing Bill working away on the lettering for these locomotives and passenger cars, for me it was somewhat hypnotizing to watch, and visually I learned quite a lot about traditional sign painting techniques.

Bill has since passed on, but the memories of him and the fruits of his labour remain. A large portion of the Ontario Rail association has since evolved into a tourist line which still operates today as the South Simcoe Railway in Tottenham, Ontario.

The core skills of the profession of sign writing and sign painting had been long established by the time Bill Miller started his career in the 1930s. Unfortunately for those employed in the trade, major advancements in print technology would eventually bring it and many other established graphic professions to an abrupt end.

It took a skilled and steady hand to be a sign painter. To be successful, artistic ability had to work in conjunction with practical knowhow of masonry surface preparation, paint mixing, and bookkeeping. Accurately calculating the costs involved to quote the job to potential clients was essential. Courses to learn all the aspects of the signwriting trade could be taken at trade colleges, and / or it could be apprenticed through hands-on training that was passed down over generations.

Budding sign painters would usually start off their careers by purchasing a sign painting kit from a popular supplier through a mail order catalogues. As time passed they would build up their collection to become a library of tools of the trade. Brushes, ponce wheels, chalk lines and other such items would be readily available. Many sign painters also utilized a baton held in their non-painting hand to keep their painting hands from leaning on the painted surface, thus smearing the newly applied paint.


If the wall to be painted was of somewhat poor condition it was necessary that it be prepared for the painting; the quality of the preparation and quality of paints varied, dependent on the price that the client was willing to pay. If an unpainted wall wasn’t in the best shape for painting, it had to first be given a size of weak muriatic acid that slightly roughened the surface to better accept paint.

Estimating the cost of a wall sign was partially based on counting bricks. Often a quick sketch of the design to be painted on the wall was created beforehand.

A scaffold or swing stage would first be assembled at the wall to be painted, which one depended on how large or high the wall painting was to be. Once a platform was in place, the paper sketch of the design would be transcribed onto the wall in a roughly painted outline; a process that sign painters called “breaking on”.

Safety at heights wasn’t a large priority as it is today in the labour world. Many of the irons on the stages and scaffolds did come equipped with ‘safety’ back loops in which a piece of 2x4 could be slipped as a backboard to prevent the painter from falling off. This safety feature wasn’t as effective as it was made out to be. There was little to no use of safety harnesses or fall arresters in the early days and as a result some sign painters met an untimely end on the job site.

Apart from heights, another workplace danger loomed that wasn’t a popular concern of the past. Most sign painters directly combined the batches of paint they made with boiled oil, turpentine and driers, and an enormous amount of lead!

Little was reported on the health and well being of sign painters so there is no solid evidence that lead poisoning played a part in their demise, but it’s quite likely.
Several of the great masters of fine art are believed to have suffered from lead poisoning, exposed through the paints they handled. Some experts even suggest that part of the ‘genius’ exhibited by masters such as Michaelangelo and Van Gogh was most likely due to the effects that lead in the bloodstream had on their minds. Their tendencies toward the dramatic and melancholy were the inspiration behind many pieces of art that became incredibly famous.

The afflictions of lead poisoning among artists started to be known in the early 1800s, known as ‘Painter’s Colic’ or ‘Saturnism’. Their fame was tainted with the high costs of poor health and early death.

Though lead was a danger, Sign Painters were alchemists of their trade. They mixed minerals, oxides, and a cornucopia of other items to create their colours. Green vitriol (copper sulphate), lime milk, and bolted whiting were all ingredients that were once common ingredients added to their paint concoctions.


Although the craft of sign painting all but disappeared during the 1970s, it has since gained respect and become its own form of high art. A new desire to learn the craft of sign painting has surfaced.

Interest in the old way of doing things seems to re-emerge in cycles, and as a result, long lost traditions and items return to the spotlight. Ghost signs, which have all but faded from the walls they were painted on 100 years ago are being restored or completely repainted as a tribute to the original signage; retaining an important part of the overall visual character and history of the older buildings they were painted on.

Some contemporary painting companies honour the traditions of the original sign painters but most use modern technologies to help them achieve their goals. Sometimes they’re even called upon to restore ghost signs to their formerly bold appearance; a few local examples are:

‘The Sign Painting Company’, a contemporary business that started off in the UK (now based in Toronto) has made a point of carrying on the legacy of traditional sign painters and sign writers. In November of 2020 they took on the large task of repainting a deteriorating ghost sign on the west wall of the former Gelber Bros. building at the corner of Richmond St. W. and Duncan St.

MuralForm is another Toronto based company that delved into ghost sign renovation and were tasked with highlighting the ghost signs of Scythes & Co. and the T.A. Lytle Co., both of which once occupied the warehouse building at 128 Sterling Rd.

When the former factory complex of the Brunswick Balke Collender Co. was renovated into condominiums and retail space, a point was made to repaint some of the bold ghost signs which once covered several of the walls between the windows of the building.