Tag: London Ontario landmarks

  • Where to See Stunning French Gothic Architecture in the Heart of London

    Where to See Stunning French Gothic Architecture in the Heart of London

    When you pass through downtown London, Ontario, one structure commands your attention the moment you turn onto Richmond Street. Rising high above the surrounding rooftops, the majestic twin towers of St. Peter’s Cathedral Basilica pierce the sky with an elegance that feels transported directly from medieval France. This isn’t just a church. It’s a centuries-old story carved in stone, glass, and faith.

    For culture seekers visiting Southwestern Ontario, St. Peter’s stands as one of Canada’s most remarkable architectural treasures. Its 13th-century French Gothic Revival design, breathtaking stained glass, and fascinating history make it an absolute must-see destination. Let me take you on a journey through this extraordinary landmark.

    A Cathedral Born from Ashes and Ambition

    The story of St. Peter’s begins long before the soaring towers. In 1834, a small log church dedicated to St. Lawrence stood on the southwest corner of Dufferin and Richmond. It was humble, practical, and completely unassuming. But London had other plans.

    Two devastating fires in 1845 and 1850 swept through the young settlement, claiming both the original log structure and its replacement. Undeterred, the Catholic community built a brick church in 1851. When the Diocese of London was established in 1856, this resilient parish was renamed St. Peter’s and elevated to cathedral status.

    Later, in 1880, Bishop John Walsh commissioned Irish-born architect Joseph Connolly to design a structure befitting the growing diocese. Connolly, trained in Dublin’s architectural tradition and deeply committed to Gothic Revival purity, envisioned a building that would rival Europe’s great cathedrals. Construction began in July 1880, and on June 28, 1885, the magnificent stone cathedral was dedicated.

    The larger St Peter's Cathedral, as it appeared in 1885, in front it much smaller predecessor.
    Notice the small brick church, built in 1851 (in the lower right side of the photo). To the left, the new, larger St Peter’s Cathedral was built, starting in 1880, behind the smaller building.
    (Source: Floyd B. Scott).

    Pope John XXIII recognized the significance of the new, larger cathedral a century later, raising it to the status of a minor basilica in 1961.

    Historic plaque describing the story of St Peter's Cathedral Basilica.
    Historical Plaque.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham).

    Understanding The Terminology

    For visitors unfamiliar with Catholic church terminology, it helps to understand the distinctions between churches, cathedrals, and basilicas.

    A church is the base level. It is any official building where a Christian congregation gathers for public worship. Hundreds of thousands of churches exist worldwide.

    A cathedral is the principal church of a diocese, serving as the official seat of the local bishop. The name comes from the cathedra, the bishop’s physical chair. There is generally only one cathedral per diocese, making St. Peter’s the sole cathedral of the Diocese of London.

    A basilica is a church granted special ceremonial privileges by the Pope because of its historical, architectural, or spiritual importance. This is an honorary title rather than an administrative distinction. St. Peter’s holds the title of minor basilica. There are four “Major Basilicas” (all in Rome) and thousands of “Minor Basilicas” across the world (like St. Peter’s in London).

    Thus, every cathedral and basilica is a church, but not every church is a cathedral or basilica. St. Peter’s is both, holding the bishop’s seat and the Pope’s honorary designation.

    Looking northward, a stunning rooftop shot of the highly decorative spire.
    Looking northward, a stunning rooftop shot of the highly decorative spire.
    (Photo credit: JPM Architecture).

    The Architecture: Europe in the Heart of London

    Joseph Connolly designed St. Peter’s as an authentic interpretation of 13th-century French Gothic architecture. This was no mere imitation. Connolly studied the great cathedrals of Europe and incorporated their defining characteristics into every aspect of his design. In all, Connolly designed or remodelled upwards of 25 Roman Catholic churches and chapels in the French Gothic style in Ontario alone.

    The Front Facade and Its Storytelling Stone

    Approaching the cathedral from Dufferin Avenue, your eyes immediately travel upward. The massive front facade features a breathtaking rose window inspired by the French Rayonnant style, with radiating stone tracery that creates a stunning geometric pattern. Below, three arched entry doors mimic the pilgrimage cathedrals of Europe, where thousands of travellers once required separate entrances.

    The front view of St Peter's.
    Three entrances, two towers, one impressive building.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham).
    A close up view of the rose window of St Peter's.
    A closer look at the rose window.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham)

    Now look closely at the stonework surrounding the doors. Grotesques and mythical beasts preside over them. These carvings serve a symbolic purpose rooted in medieval theology. They represent the evils of the outside world, demonstrating that chaos and darkness are banned from entering the sacred space within. For the largely illiterate congregations of medieval Europe, these figures acted as visual sermons. In London, they connect us directly to that ancient tradition.

    There is a common misconception that these figures are gargoyles. They are technically grotesques. Gargoyles serve a functional purpose with open mouths that channel rainwater away from building foundations. The carvings at St. Peter’s are purely decorative or symbolic, making them grotesques in the architectural tradition.

    Carved grotesques appear on the front of St Peter's.
    Notice the two grotesques over the arch.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham).

    Engineering for Canadian Soil

    Connolly faced unique challenges adapting his European vision to Canadian conditions. In traditional French cathedrals, flying buttresses provide essential structural support.

    Above left: Flying buttress of Reims Cathedral, France, construction started in 1211.

    Above right: Flying buttress of Notre-Dame de Paris, construction started in 1163.

    (Photo credits: Wikipedia).

    Understanding that London’s soil and construction budgets could not accommodate these elaborate exterior supports, Connolly made a pragmatic decision. He significantly thickened the structural exterior stone walls to redistribute the roof weight. This adaptation allowed the cathedral to stand firm without sacrificing its Gothic character.

    The Bishops Who Guard the Door

    Flanking the main entrance are stone images honouring the two bishops who contributed so much to the building of this cathedral. On the right is Bishop John Walsh, who commissioned architect Joseph Connolly to design the cathedral and raised the funds necessary to construct the original cathedral in 1880. On the left is Bishop John Cody, under whose leadership the cathedral was completed in 1957.

    These two figures are carved from the same regional limestone as the cathedral itself. Skilled artisans placed them in protective Gothic stone niches, ensuring that the guardians of the diocese greet every visitor who crosses the threshold.

    Carved heads of two bishops appear on either side of the front door.
    Above: two bishops, circled in red, guard the front doorway. For close-up photos, see below.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham).

    Close-up photos: Bishop John Cody on the left, Bishop John Walsh on the right. (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham).

    The 72-Year Wait for the Towers

    One of the most remarkable stories in the basilica’s history explains why the cathedral lacked its iconic towers for 72 years. When Connolly designed St. Peter’s in 1880, he included towering stone spires that would rival those of European cathedrals. However, the original construction stopped at the roofline, leaving the towers unfinished until 1957, seven decades later.

    Illustration top left: Proposed architectural drawings for St Peter’s Cathedral in 1880 included two tall spires. (Source: Diocese of London).

    Photo top right: The Cathedral Basilica without towers, 1956. (Photo credit: Diocese of London).

    The primary obstacle was geological. Downtown London’s high water table made the soil unstable. Builders quickly realized that the immense, concentrated weight of stone towers on the existing foundation would cause the front of the cathedral to sink or crack. Without modern engineering capabilities, the diocese had no choice but to halt construction.

    Economic factors further delayed completion. World War I, the Great Depression, and World War II made major construction projects entirely unfeasible. When the diocese did have capital to spend, leadership prioritized education. In 1912, Bishop Michael Francis Fallon founded St. Peter’s Seminary, and financing its grand campus in 1926, north of London, consumed building funds for over a decade.

    Finally, in the mid-1950s, Bishop John Cody possessed both the modern engineering capabilities and the financial backing to resolve the unfinished facade.

    1957 Construction Techniques

    To safely accommodate the downtown water table, the final 1957 spires were modified from Connolly’s original plan. They were built significantly shorter and lighter, ensuring the building’s structural integrity while preserving its visual impact.

    Engineers used innovative techniques to anchor the towers. Rather than relying on the original brick-and-stone foundation, they excavated deeply around the front facade and poured a massive, steel-reinforced concrete footing system designed to distribute weight outward. Hidden inside the masonry, a rigid skeleton of structural steel beams bears the load of the twelve Dutch-cast bells now in the belfries and channels their vibrations directly into the concrete foundation.

    This project remains a masterclass in mid-century heritage engineering, balancing modern structural mechanics with strict historical preservation.

    The St. Thomas Post Office Connection

    In a unique historical twist, the diocese acquired hand-cut limestone from the recently demolished historic post office in St. Thomas, Ontario, in April 1957. This salvaged stone proved invaluable.

    The primary reason for the flawless match was geological. Both the 1880s cathedral stone and the St. Thomas stone were quarried from the exact same regional formations of Ohio and Canadian limestone. The base density, grain structure, and mineral composition were identical.

    To ensure the salvaged stone blended with the 19th-century facade, stonemasons set up a dedicated workshop beside the basilica. Every block was individually hand-dressed using traditional chisels and hammers. They carefully sorted the salvaged blocks by tone and coloration, using the most weathered pieces at the seams where the new construction met the original 1885 roofline. This meticulous craftsmanship hid the transition seamlessly.

    Arrows point to the transition between the old building and the new towers above it.
    The red arrows on either side of the cathedral point to where the original stones (below the arrows) blend seamlessly with the stone from the St Thomas Post Office (above the arrows).
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham).

    The Bells That Ring Through Time

    The towers now house an extraordinary set of twelve musical bells, each dedicated to one of the twelve apostles. Cast in Aarle-Rixtel, Netherlands, by the historic Petit & Fritsen Bell Foundry, these bells were officially dedicated on May 15, 1958.

    A line up of huge church bells, gradually descending in size.
    Although the weight of each bell at St Peter’s is not specified, in a multi-bell tower the smallest “treble” bells typically weigh 150 to 500 lbs, while the largest “tenor” bells frequently weigh 2,000 to 4,000 lbs.
    (Photo credit: London North Central Catholic Family of Parishes).

    The bells chime automatically on the quarter-hour and peal continuously for weddings and major liturgies. The rhythmic ringing that fills downtown London connects the modern city to centuries of European cathedral tradition.

    The tolling of the bells at 3 pm.

    The Interior: A Gallery of Sacred Art

    Step inside the cathedral, and you enter a world of breathtaking beauty. The interior rivals the exterior in its artistic and architectural significance.

    Interior view of St Peter's with many people in attendance.
    St Peter’s Cathedral Basilica has a seating capacity of 2,500 people..
    (Photo credit: Mike Hensen/The London Free Press).

    The Innsbruck Stained Glass

    The spectacular stained-glass windows lining the nave, sanctuary, and the massive front rose window were manufactured in Innsbruck, Austria, by the famous Tyrol Art Glass Company. Installed in 1889, four years after the cathedral’s dedication, these windows represent some of the finest ecclesiastical glass in Canada.

    The Tyrol studio specialized in a distinct late-19th-century European style characterized by vivid, highly saturated colors and lifelike religious figures. The lancet windows depict biblical narratives, Catholic dogmas such as the Immaculate Conception, and detailed portraits of saints.

    When you visit on a sunny afternoon, these windows cast ethereal colored beams across the central aisle, creating the classic “Gothic glow” that medieval architects intended.

    A view of the altar and stained glass windows.
    The altar, beneath stained glass windows designed by artisans from Austria.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham)

    The Casavant Pipe Organ

    The powerful music filling the vaulted nave comes from a custom-built instrument crafted by Casavant Frères of Saint-Hyacinthe, Quebec. Casavant is universally recognized among the world’s finest organ builders.

    The cathedral houses two interconnected organs built under Opus 1135 in 1926. The main Gallery Organ sits in the rear choir loft, while a smaller Chancel Organ is located near the altar. Both can be played simultaneously from a massive, four-manual main console in the gallery, or from a smaller two-manual console in the sanctuary.

    With over 3,000 individual pipes (3,869 to be exact) ranging from tiny metal tubes to massive wooden pipes creating deep, floor-shaking bass tones, this instrument is a marvel of craftsmanship. When the twin towers were completed in 1958, the organ console was uniquely wired to the bells, allowing the organist to play the tower bells directly from the keyboard.

    A view of the huge pipe organ at the back of the church.
    The magnificent Casavant Pipe Organ with almost 4,000 individual pipes.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham)

    The Hand-Carved Stations of the Cross

    Hanging along the east and west walls of the nave are fourteen deeply detailed, three-dimensional reliefs depicting the trial and crucifixion of Jesus. These stations were hand-carved in Oberammergau, Germany, a Bavarian alpine village renowned since the Middle Ages for its master woodcarvers and historic Passion Play.

    The carvers used high-grade Bavarian Lindenwood, prized for its fine, tight grain that allows for incredibly sharp detailing without splitting. The figures are sculpted in high relief, almost completely detaching from the background to create lifelike shadows and detailed folds in the carved clothing.

    Installed during a major interior beautification campaign in the 1920s, these wooden masterpieces replaced the church’s original flat plaster stations, better matching Connolly’s grand Gothic design.

    One of the twelve hand-carved wooden stations of the cross.
    Bavarian hand-carved Stations of the Cross.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham)
    Rows upon rows of carved wooden pews.
    Hand-carved oak pews complement the hand-carved Stations of the Cross.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham)

    The Current Restoration: Preserving History

    In June 2026, an ambitious multi-year interior restoration project officially launched. Led by local heritage specialists a+LiNK Architecture Inc., this floor-to-ceiling overhaul will address decades of wear and aging structural materials.

    The estimated budget is $750,000. The complete interior restoration is expected to span three to five years.

    Significant water damage is visible on the ceilings and columns.
    Significant water damage is visible on the ceilings and columns.
    (Photo credit: Jack Sutton/CBC).
    Looking up, some of the wall fractures are visible.
    Looking up, some of the wall fractures are visible.
    (Photo credit: Jack Sutton/CBC).

    What the Restoration Entails

    Among the work being done

    • Structural Repairs: Investigators are stabilizing significant wall fractures and reversing severe water damage found on upper ceilings and columns.
    • Aesthetic Transformations: The 1980s-era rose pink walls are being replaced with a historic, neutral cream color that will dramatically alter the interior atmosphere.
    • Stone and Wood Uncovering: Restorers are carefully removing layers of old paint from columns to expose the original natural stone underneath.
    • Fine Art Conservation: Century-old frescoes and delicate murals installed in the 1920s are being cleaned and preserved. Specialized art restorers work atop massive rolling scaffolding directly under the vault, methodically testing chemical solutions to strip away yellowed soot and grime while preserving the original paint.
    • Infrastructure Upgrades: Electrical systems are being updated, window frames refinished, historical pews restored, and interior lighting renewed.

    Because of the rare architectural features, specialized heritage craftspeople, plaster restorers, and fresco conservators are being brought in from across the country.

    Put St. Peter’s On Your “Must-See” List

    Whether you come to admire the architecture, appreciate the art, or simply experience a moment of peace, St. Peter’s is a place where medieval Europe meets modern Canada, where stone and glass tell stories of faith, and where visitors can connect with something both ancient and enduring. This is a place you won’t want to miss.

    Author, Lawrence Durham, standing in front of St. Peter's.
    The author, standing in front of St Peter’s.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham)

    Hi. I’m Lawrence, a bicycle tour guide, storyteller, and proud Londoner. I help curious folks discover the best parts of our city, from the seat of a bicycle, of course. If you’d like to experience these hidden gems up close and personal, join me for a tour. Small groups, local stories, and plenty of laughs. Click here to learn more!

    Your next adventure awaits.

    Side view of St. Peter's.

    Credit for featured cover photo: Jfvoll.

  • What It Took To Force the City of London to Finally Hire Its First Building Inspector

    What It Took To Force the City of London to Finally Hire Its First Building Inspector

    Here’s a question you probably haven’t asked lately: Who makes sure your hotel’s second floor won’t cave in?

    If you’re visiting London, Ontario, you might spend an afternoon admiring our Victorian brick architecture, grabbing coffee in a converted warehouse, or climbing a creaky staircase to a quirky local shop. And you’ll never once worry about the floor giving way beneath you.

    That peace of mind came at a cost. A steep one.

    For nearly two decades around the turn of the 20th century, London was a city that learned things the hard way, by collapsing, burning, and burying its own citizens in rubble. Again and again, tragedy struck. And again and again, the city shrugged.

    Until finally, London did what it should have done years earlier: it hired its first professional building inspector.

    This is the story of what it took to make that happen.

    The Problem: A Boomtown With No Brakes

    In the 1880s and 1890s, London was growing fast. Railroads, factories, and warehouses were springing up overnight. The Ontario Building Code wouldn’t arrive until 1975, so each city made its own rules.

    London’s rules were polite suggestions (at best).  

    Landlords renovated without permits. Contractors removed load-bearing walls because they wanted a better view. And the city’s “inspection” system, such as it was, amounted to little more than a part-time alderman squinting at a beam and saying, “Probably fine.”

    They were wrong.

    Terribly wrong.

    City Hall Collapses (1898)

    On the evening of January 3, 1898, London’s old City Hall was packed.

    Hundreds of citizens had gathered on the second floor to celebrate Mayor-elect Dr. John Wilson. The mood was joyful, loud, and boisterous. People cheered, stamped their feet, and jumped up and down.

    Then came the crack.

    A massive wooden support beam snapped. The entire second floor buckled and dropped twenty feet into the city engineer’s office below (how ironic). And then, for good measure, a 500-pound safe and a heavy steam radiator crashed down on top of the fallen crowd.

    Twenty-three Londoners died. One hundred and fifty were injured.

    The gaping hole in the floor of Old City Hall after the supporting timbers gave way.
    The floor collapse at the old City Hall.
    (Photo credit: Archives and Special Collections, Western University).

    A vacant store next door became a makeshift hospital. Queen Victoria herself sent condolences from England.

    Surely, surely, this collapse would force change.

    It did not.

    Among the dead was a local shoemaker named John Burridge. Seventeen years earlier, Burridge had miraculously survived the sinking of the SS Victoria on the Thames River, a disaster that claimed nearly two hundred lives. He beat the odds once.

    However, on that cold January night in 1898, his luck ran out.

    An investigation revealed that Mayor John Little himself had removed a supporting wall on the first floor during renovations years earlier, ignoring the city’s own first (and very weak) building bylaw passed in 1893. The tragedy was entirely preventable. And yet, in the aftermath, London did almost nothing to enforce its rules.

    Old habits die hard.

    Sterling Brothers Fire (1904)

    Six years later, another disaster struck.

    On January 6, 1904, a major fire broke out at the Sterling Brothers shoe factory on York Street. Fire Chief John A. Roe, a 24-year veteran and one of the most respected men in the city, was directing his crew when a weakened exterior wall collapsed without warning.

    Chief Roe was crushed and killed instantly. Four other firefighters were seriously injured.

    Fire Chief John Roe.
    Fire Chief John Roe.
    (Photo credit: londonfirebuff).
    Newspaper clipping announcing the death of Chief Roe and the injured firemen.
    Headline in the local newspaper.
    (Photo credit: londonfirebuff).

    It was one of the darkest days in London’s fire history. Today, Fire Station No. 3 on Commissioners Road West bears his name. But at the time, the tragedy raised an uncomfortable question: Why are our buildings killing the very people who run toward danger to save us?

    The answer, again, was the same: no proper inspections, no oversight of structural work during renovations, and no one with the authority to say “stop.”

    Still, the city did not hire a dedicated building inspector.

    Reid’s Crystal Hall Collapses (1907)

    It took one more disaster, and it was, in many ways, the most avoidable of all.

    On July 16, 1907, a three-storey brick building on Dundas Street (just west of Clarence) called Reid’s Crystal Hall was undergoing renovations. The owner wanted to turn the upper floors into a bowling alley and pool hall. Workers cut windows into the east wall and began removing a centre section, without temporary supports.

    The building’s owner and contractor objected. The leaseholder pushed ahead anyway, promising that iron pillars would be installed “soon.”

    They weren’t.

    The east wall, already weakened by a fire back in 1882, gave way. Tons of brick and timber crashed onto the sidewalk, the street, and the building next door.

    Reid's Crystal Hall Collapse, showing the building in ruins, spilling bricks onto the street, in front of throngs of curious onlookers.
    Reid’s Crystal Hall Collapse.
    (Photo credit: LFD Historical Society).

    Eight people died. Forty were injured.

    The tragedy made headlines around the world. And this time, Londoners had had enough. You can only watch your neighbours die under bricks so many times before you demand change.

    The First Building Inspectors

    It wasn’t dramatic. There was no parade, no monument. But in the years immediately following the Crystal Hall collapse, the City of London quietly did something it should have done years earlier: it began hiring dedicated building inspectors with real authority.

    These weren’t part-time politicians or friendly local carpenters. They were the first professional eyes in London whose job was to check floor loads, inspect beam connections, review renovation plans, and, most importantly, say no when something was unsafe.

    For the first time, London had people in place whose entire mission was to make sure that an election night celebration or a bowling alley conversion wouldn’t turn into a mass casualty event.

    That early patchwork of municipal oversight eventually grew into a formal Building Permits department. And when the Province of Ontario finally introduced the first unified Ontario Building Code on December 31, 1975, London was ready.

    Today, the city’s Building By-law B-7 governs thousands of inspections every year.

    Even Today, The Lessons Aren’t Over

    I don’t want to pretend that tragedy is a thing of the past.

    In December 2020, a partial collapse at a four-storey building on Teeple Terrace killed two construction workers and injured several others. The incident triggered eight charges under the Occupational Health and Safety Act (OHSA) and led to a major review of safety practices in London’s construction industry.

    Top floor of a partially collapsed apartment building.
    Teeple Terrace partial building collapse.
    (Photo credit: Travis Dolynny/CBC).
    Injured worker being transported to the hospital by paramedics from the site of a building collapse.
    Injured worker being transported to the hospital by paramedics.
    (Photo credit: Derek Ruttan/ London Free Press)
    Emergency workers on the scene. of a building collapse.
    Emergency workers on the scene.
    (Photo credit: Mike Henson/ London Free Press)

    Following guilty pleas under the OHSA, the court issued its final penalties in early 2024. The province levied a combined $400,000 in fines against two construction companies.

    This incident proves an important point: building inspection isn’t a history lesson. It’s a living, breathing public service that saves lives every single day, usually invisibly.

    Why This Matters for a Visitor

    So why should you care about a building inspector from a century ago?

    Because when you explore downtown London, you’re not just looking at old bricks. You’re looking at a city that survived its own worst instincts.

    You can ride past the site of the old City Hall (Richmond Street, just south of Dundas) and know exactly why modern buildings have occupancy limits.

    You can pass the old site of Reid’s Crystal Hall (since rebuilt to proper standards, so no one dies because someone rushed a renovation).

    You can stand at the corner of Clarence and York, where Sterling Place now stands, and remember Fire Chief John A. Roe, who gave his life trying to save a building that should never have been so dangerous.

    Map showing the location of the three building collapses in downtown London.
    Made with London City Map (ArcGIS).

    These aren’t grim stories. They’re resilience stories. They’re about a community that finally said, “Never again.”

    The Joy of a City That Learned to Stand

    Here’s what I love about London: we don’t hide our past. We ride right through it.

    The same downtown that once crumbled is now filled with restored heritage buildings, safe sidewalks, lively patios, and public squares where people gather without fear. That’s not luck. That’s the legacy of an inspector who showed up to work a century ago and did a job nobody wanted, until suddenly, everyone needed it.

    So when you visit, bring your curiosity. Bring your appetite for local history. And bring a quiet thank-you for the forgotten heroes who made sure London’s next chapter was built on something solid.

    The author, standing with his bicycle in front of Sterling Place, at the corner of York and Clarence Streets.
    The author, standing in front of Sterling Place, at the corner of York and Clarence Streets.
    (Photo credit: Lawrence Durham).

    Hi. I’m Lawrence – bicycle tour guide and storyteller. I help curious folks like you discover the best parts of London, from a bicycle seat, of course.

    We don’t just ride past the pretty parts. We tell you the real stories: the collapses, the comebacks, and the quiet heroes who rebuilt this city better than they found it.

    If you want to see London the way it was meant to be seen, slowly, safely, and with a few good laughs along the way, come on a bicycle tour with me.

    👉 Click here to learn more. Now, let’s go find some history.