To the tourists who don't look up at Toronto's gargoyles

During a tour last week, a couple was taking a selfie in front of Old City Hall. They were tilting their phone this way and that, trying to get the clock tower in the background, and I just stood there watching. Right below the clock tower, a stone face hanging from the edge of the eaves had its mouth wide open, staring down at them. I pointed to it and said, "Look up there," and the two of them craned their necks and went dead silent.

This happens every single time. I've seen it play out hundreds of times.

If you've ever walked through downtown Toronto, you probably remember the CN Tower and the glass curtain-wall high-rises. But I'm going to push back on the idea that the skyline is Toronto's identity. This city's true architectural soul is found just by raising your gaze ten degrees from street level. Beneath the eaves, atop the columns, clinging to the edges of arches—grotesque stone carvings, commonly lumped together under the term gargoyles.

Strictly speaking, a gargoyle is a sculpture that serves as a rainwater spout; purely decorative ones should properly be called grotesques. But when I explain this distinction on tours, nine out of ten people give me a look of complete disinterest. So I'll just call them gargoyles here too. I can make that much of a compromise.

The Faces of Old City Hall

The place I take people most often is Old City Hall, where Queen Street meets Bay Street. Completed in 1899, the building's exterior is carved with dozens of stone faces. Human faces, animal faces, and something that is neither human nor animal. The faces lined up along the arch above the main entrance each have a different expression. Scowling, smiling, tongue sticking out. On an overcast day, when you look up at them against the grey sky, those expressions seem strangely alive.

Tour guests ask me this all the time: "Why did they make them so creepy?" Honestly, I don't know the exact reason either. I've never come across any documentation that definitively records the intent at the time of construction. Personally, though, I believe these carvings weren't mere decoration but something like signatures from the stonemasons who worked on the building. Unnamed craftsmen each leaving their own face beneath the eaves. That's my speculation, not established fact.

Along King Street

Walk toward King Street and another world opens up. Pay close attention to the cornices of the old bank buildings—the Beaux-Arts structures built in the early twentieth century—and you'll find lion heads, eagles, and fantastical creatures with no name, all lined up in rows. Most people walk right past, seeing only the ground-floor shop signs or café terraces. On my tours, I deliberately stop at a single block and have everyone look up for three minutes. People who feel awkward at first start getting excited like they're on a treasure hunt once they begin spotting them one by one.

Once, a guest discovered a carving that even I had overlooked. It was a bearded man's face attached to a third-floor corner of a building on King Street, with the nose half broken off. That guest took more than ten photos of it. Ever since that day, every time I pass that building, I check on the noseless man. He's still there.

So Few People Look Up

This isn't just a tourist problem. People who live in Toronto don't look up either. I was born and raised in this city, and honestly, I never paid any attention to gargoyles until I started working as a tour guide. When I first started, a senior guide told me one thing: "Look at the tops of buildings. There are stories up there that nobody sees." All it takes is tilting your head back once, yet the number of people who actually do it is shockingly small.

I will die on this hill: the real sights of downtown Toronto aren't in the skyline but beneath the eaves. You can look at ten glass towers and not remember a single one a week later. But a stone face sticking its tongue out from atop an arch at Old City Hall—once you've seen it, it stays with you for a long time. At least, that's what the people who've been on my tours have told me.

Next time you're walking along Queen Street, put your phone in your pocket and look up. A scowling face will be looking down at you.