The Legend of Frank Gehry's Fish
Plus: the future of our old ferries, Toronto's first patios, and more...
The story begins in Kensington Market nearly a century ago. This was during the hard days of the Great Depression and the Second World War. Kensington was still known as the “Jewish Market” back then, filled with synagogues and delis and market shops. It was a hub for Toronto’s growing Jewish population — the biggest ethnic minority in what was still a very British city.
Among those who regularly came to the neighbourhood to do their shopping was a woman named Leah Caplan. She would head to the market every Thursday morning — and when she left, she would be carrying a carp, soon to be turned into that week’s gefilte fish.
The creature was still alive when she bought it, still breathing as she carried it home in a bit of waxed paper filled with water. She and her husband lived only a short distance away, in a house on Beverley Street near the Grange. There, she would fill the bath with water and let the fish live out its final hours swimming around the tub.
It must have been a strange sight, the finned beast swimming around the porcelain. The scene certainly made a lasting impression on her young grandson. And in the process, those doomed fish would become a legendary piece of architectural history.
Frank Gehry had been born Frank Goldberg on a winter’s day in 1929. He came into the world at Toronto General Hospital and — aside from a few years in Timmins — spent most of his childhood in the west end. He lived with his parents and his sister on Rusholme and on Dundas in a small house that’s now home to Toronto’s Vietnamese Association.
Gehry’s grandparents were just a fifteen-minute bike ride away. And they were devoted to him. He spent long hours at their house on Beverley; summer days sitting on the front porch with his grandfather, sleeping between them in bed at night, working at their hardware store on Queen West (next door to the spot where the Horseshoe Tavern would soon open). When his grandmother headed to Kensington Market on Thursday mornings to do her shopping, he would often tag along.
And so, Frank Gehry was still just a boy when those fish began to imprint themselves on his memory. “I especially liked going on days when she would buy a carp,” he later explained to author Barbara Isenberg. “We would walk home with the carp in waxed paper filled with water, and when we got home she’d put it in the bathtub.” That strange sight stuck with Gehry for the rest of his life. “My cousins, my sister, and I would play with the fish,” he recalled, “and watch it swim around, and I remember sometimes feeding it. Then it would disappear, and we’d have gefilte fish for dinner.”
Gehry was still a teenager when the family moved to California. He would study architecture in university there, join the U.S. Army for a while, go to Harvard, drop out of Harvard, and finally go on to become one of the most celebrated architects in the world.
Fish would play an important role in his work; a motif he repeated over and over again. Sinuous double curves. “That mysterious creature,” as The Globe and Mail’s Adele Freedman wrote, “[became] something of a trademark.”
It had all begun as a response to postmodernism, born of Gehry’s disappointment in the movement and the way it resurrected ideas from the past. “Well,” he declared to an audience at UCLA, “if you’re going to go back why don’t we go back three hundred million years to fish? If you’re going to go backwards, let’s go way backwards.”
“I mean,” he told Freedman years later, “what are these guys thinking, using a Greek temple as a symbol of perfection? You can use a fish!”
And so Gehry did. “I started drawing fish,” he told Isenberg. “I drew a lot of them. I stared to look at real fish. I got really interested in them as a form and in the idea of bringing movement into architecture. It was a way of exploring double curves, which are hard to do in architecture.” Plus, it was an accessible way to present his ideas. “When I talk about fish, it’s sort of fun, because if you talk about doing a study of double curves, its sounds terribly esoteric and heavy-duty… Talking about it in terms of fish and fish images lightens it and makes it less of a burdensome thing.” The creatures became a familiar tool, a way to work through ideas. “I use fish as a symbol of perfection,” he told Freedman. “At a point of frustration, when something seems so unachievable I can’t deal with it, I draw a fish.
“I never intended to build fish. Now I’ve been drawn into a fish fetish.”
He made fish lamps. Fish jewellery. Fish sculptures. Buildings that curved like fish. He put a fish sculpture at the centre of a square in Kalamazoo. A huge chain link fish outside a seafood restaurant he designed in Japan. A six-metre-tall fish with glass scales in a museum he made in Minnesota. And when he designed something new for the Barcelona Olympics in 1992, he turned to fish yet again. It would be called the Peix; “fish” in Catalan. It would stretch 35 meters high and 56 meters long; about as big as the Arc de Triomphe. It’s still one of his most famous creations: a giant creature twisting through the air above the Barcelona waterfront as if it’s about to splash into the Mediterranean. You’ll find fish and fish-like curves in Gehry’s work over and over again — echoes of those childhood memories of his grandmother’s carp repeated in cities around the world.
Or, at least, that’s what he initially claimed was the inspiration. He told Freedman and others that his memories of those fish swimming around the bathtub helped spark his ichthyological obsession. “I think maybe that has something to do with it,” he explained in 1986. But by 2010, he was playing down the connection.
That year, his grandparents’ old house was slated for demolition. A new condo tower would rise in its place at 15 Beverley. Gehry wasn’t a fan of the design — “It’s awful,” he told The Globe — but that didn’t mean he wanted his childhood haven preserved. He had never been one to romanticize the past; his critique of postmodernism, after all, is where his use of fish began. And he didn’t want heritage concerns standing in the way of his own new projects either. While arguing that protected buildings should be torn down to make way for his new skyscrapers on King Street, he claimed there were only two buildings in Toronto worth saving: Osgoode Hall and Old City Hall. Everything else could go.
That included Leah Caplan’s house. “I don’t think people should hold up the future for anchors from the past,” he told The Globe. “There are some things that should be preserved, but there’s a lot of stuff preserved that’s irrelevant, and I don’t think the fact that I or my grandparents were there has any real historic value to anybody.”
Toronto disagreed. The little red brick row house was already listed by the City as a significant building thanks to its connection to the architect’s origins, with the story of the carp serving as part of the rationale. They even looked into the possibility of salvaging the bathtub so it could be preserved, though it turned out to have already been lost during previous renovations.
By then, Gehry had begun to downplay the seminal importance of those carp, and he would continue to in interviews for years to come. “It’s not true,” he told Toronto Life. Instead, he pointed to that speech at UCLA, the fish studies that followed, and the influence of Japanese art. “That was what led to playing with those kind of forms and those kind of shapes and being able to build them,” he explained to The Globe. “So it doesn’t come from the fish in the bathtub, although... I mean, it didn’t hurt.”
So, while it’s easy to believe those childhood fish must have at least helped lay the groundwork — “I do like carp the best,” he admitted to Isenberg — we’ll never know exactly how much influence they had on his work. The legend of Frank Gehry’s fish may have grown far beyond the creatures’ true significance. But they weren’t the only source of inspiration he found at that little house on Beverley Street. He had other memories of his grandmother, too.
Leah Caplan didn’t do all her shopping in Kensington Market. Sometimes, she would head a few blocks away to a woodshop on John Street, bringing her grandson with her. There, she would buy some burlap sacks filled with scraps of wood. Those bit and pieces would become the fuel that sparked Frank Gehry’s love of building.
“When they returned home,” Paul Goldberger writes in his Gehry biography, Building Art, “Leah would open one of the sacks and spill the irregular pieces of wood across the kitchen floor… The wood scraps were the raw material of fantasy. Leah would sit down on the floor with Frank and together they would build imaginary buildings, bridges, and even whole towns.” They were Frank Gehry’s first architectural creations.
“I loved it,” he remembered decades later. “[It was] the most fun I ever had in my life.”
Eventually, that little red brick house on Beverley did come down. The condo Gehry hated has taken its place. Most people walk past it without any clue the address has any connection to the famous architect. He certainly didn’t think it was important to commemorate. “I hope they don’t put a plaque in the lobby that says I lived there,” he complained. “I would be insulted by that. Who wants a plaque with your name on it in some shitty lobby?”
But even if Leah Caplan’s old house is gone, you’ll still find a reminder of what happened there just up the street.
It was in the early 2000s that Gehry was hired for his first big project in his hometown: the renovation of the Art Gallery of Ontario. The redesign took four years and cost more than a quarter of a billion dollars. The building was reimagined and expanded with new spaces using a mix of materials. In its central court, Gehry placed a spiralling wooden staircase that’s easy to imagine as having evolved out of those childhood fantasies. And he would give the gallery a big, sweeping aerodynamic curve along Dundas — that familiar motif yet again. He even gave it a bit of a fin.
And so, today you’ll find one of Frank Gehry’s fish in the heart of the city where he grew up. It might not be as famous as the museum in Bilbao or the concert hall in L.A. or even the Peix in Barcelona. But it’s the one closest to the place where it all began: just around the corner from the spot where a young boy watched some carp swimming around his grandmother’s bathtub — and where they played with scraps of wood on her kitchen floor.
You can read more about Frank Gehry (and his fish) in Paul Goldberg’s biography, “Building Art: The Life and Work of Frank Gehry” (available from Penguin here) and Barbara Isenberg’s “Conversations with Frank Gehry” (here).
You can find the Globe’s coverage of Gehry, his work, and his childhood home via the Toronto Public Library’s digital newspaper archives here. The newspaper clarified the role of the fish in an article by Anthony Reinhart here. And the architect spoke to Toronto Life here.
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Secret Toronto: Spies, Traitors & Undercover Agents – My New Course!
I’m kicking off 2026 with my first new online course in nearly a year! Secret Toronto: Spies, Traitors & Undercover Agents will be all about the history of espionage in our city. I’m particularly excited to finally be offering it since it’s one I’ve been planning for a long time, expanding on a talk I first gave back at Word On The Street in 2024 through the Toronto Public Library.
Course Description: Toronto has been deeply shaped by its secrets. Dramatic scenes have played out in the dark corners of our city; our past is filled with tales of espionage, betrayal and conspiracy. History has been made by secret agents, undercover operatives, turncoats and tricksters in disguise. In this online course, we’ll shine a light into the city’s shadows and venture into the mysterious nooks and crannies where that history is written in whispers.
When: The course begins at 8pm on February 5 and runs every Thursday night for four weeks.
Where: Over Zoom. All lectures will also be recorded, so if you have to miss any of them you can watch them whenever you like. The recordings will remain available for the foreseeable future.
Cost: Pay what you like!
“Toronto’s Most Notorious Murders” Returns!
Secret Toronto isn’t the only course I’ll be giving in the coming weeks. Thanks to the LIFE Institute, I’ll be offering an expanded version of Toronto’s Most Notorious Murders, for student 50+. It’s a course I first offered back in 2022, but the LIFE version will be nearly twice as long: eight expanded lectures filled with bone-chilling true tales.
Course Description: Toronto has a bloody past. It’s filled with stories of chilling crimes stretching back to the days when the city was founded. And while these tales may send shivers up our spines, they also have a lot to teach us about the place we call home. In this online course, we’ll explore the history of the city through the stories of its most infamous homicides. From gangsters and serial killers to housemaids and schoolchildren, we’ll meet the murderers who’ve been terrorizing Toronto for more than 200 years.
When: Tuesdays at 3pm from January 27 to March 17.
The Future of Our Old Ferries
Toronto’s historic ferry fleet will soon be taken out of service — and it’s not clear what will happen to the old boats. John Lorinc wrote about their uncertain future in The Toronto Star last week. As he points out, the first of the new electric ferries is scheduled to arrive later this year and there’s no plan for the historic vessels they’ll be replacing. The 116-year-old Trillium was already “quietly towed off to Hamilton harbour last fall” as its long-term fate is being decided. And the future of the others will soon be a pressing issue, too.
The boats have been a beloved part of the city’s history for generations now. “These ships,” Lorinc writes, “allowed us to be in two epochs at once — to travel in time between what was once a provincial port town and a booming global city, and do so on vessels whose lifespans straddled those disparate eras.”
He suggests the City should turn to Torontonians for ideas to ensure the ferries find a new purpose and aren’t lost forever. “Can [the Trillium] be brought back into service as a tour boat that can be rented for events? A floating museum? An educational venue for the kids who come to the waterfront on school trips?
“We know that in cities like San Francisco and Lisbon, operating heritage streetcars draw millions of visitors looking for urban experiences that define those places to the wider world… On this file, out-of-sight/out-of-mind simply won’t float.”
QUICK LINKS
The best of everything else that’s new in Toronto’s past…
AWARD NEWS — The recipients of the 2025 Governor General’s History Awards were announced this week, which is the perfect time to learn about some of the most fascinating and powerful historical work being done across the country. Read more.
LOVE NEWS — Two remarkable Torontonian couples are celebrating their 25th anniversary this month. It was on January 14, 2001 that Anne & Elaine Vautour and Joe Varnell & Kevin Bourassa got married. It was a landmark moment in the romantic history of our city, challenging Canada’s homophobic ban on same-sex marriage two years before the Supreme Court struck it down. To commemorate the anniversary, Mark Colley interviewed the couples for The Toronto Star. “What makes their marriage remarkable,” he writes about the Vautours, “is how it started: with a security detail, 80 media outlets and a reverend wearing a bulletproof vest.” Read more.
SUNSHINE AND CAFFEINE NEWS — It’s hard to imagine a Torontonian summer without patios, but they were once seen as a strange new sensation. On Scenes From Toronto, Bob Georgiou tells the tale of the era when Toronto café culture “adopted a European, Bohemian, and outdoor flair.” Read more.
POISON NEWS — On Bluesky, the Muddy York podcast shares an unsettling fact from the history of the Royal Alex. The theatre’s curtain used to be poisonous:
(Click to view on Bluesky.)
The Royal Alex is also the subject of their most recent episode, which you can listen to here.
AT A CROSSROADS NEWS — On YouTube, Not Smooth Steve takes a look at the history behind some of Toronto’s weirdest intersections. “I’m at the intersection of Danforth and Danforth. Wait, what?” Watch it.
TORONTO HISTORY EVENTS
HIGHLIGHTS OF CANADA’S ART DECO ARCHITECTURE
January 25 — 2pm — Lambton House — Heritage York
The annual Howland Lecture. Tim Morawetz speaks about Art Deco architecture in Canada.
Free!
LIVING FREE IN THE TIME OF SLAVERY: THE LONG FAMILY IN TORONTO
January 27 — 6:30pm — S. Walter Stewart Library — East York Historical Society
“Dr. Natasha Henry-Dixon will discuss her current research on the history of chattel slavery in colonial Ontario and the complexities of slavery and freedom for Black people in the Town of York (now Toronto) through an examination of the Long family.”
Free, I believe!
TORONTO’S LOST SHIPWRECK
January 28 — 7pm — University of Toronto Scarborough Campus
“Join Heison Chak, OUC President and seasoned technical diver, as he shares the story behind a remarkable discovery beneath Toronto’s waters. In August 2025, a Canadian dive team ventured into the unknown and uncovered a forgotten wooden schooner resting quietly on the lakebed — a vessel believed to have sailed the Great Lakes in the early days of Toronto’s history. Through photos, stories, and insights from the expedition, discover how curiosity discipline, and careful planning led to and extraordinary find that connects our present to a long-vanished past.”
Free, I believe! Registration deadline: January 24.
CABBAGETOWN: THE HISTORY OF A TORONTO NEIGHBOURHOOD
January 28 — 7pm — Northern District Library — North Toronto Historical Society
“As a Heritage Conservation District in Toronto, Cabbagetown is a Victorian village within the city where tiny workers’ cottages share streets with grand homes and coach houses. This illustrated talk will trace the area’s history from its Indigenous roots, to Simcoe’s construction of a home at Castle Frank, to the opening of the Riverdale farm. Its various architectural styles and some historic businesses, from bars to medical colleges, will be discussed.”
Free, I believe!
THE LETTERS: POSTMARK PREJUDICE IN BLACK AND WHITE
February 5 — 7pm — Annette Street Library — West Toronto Junction Historical Society
& February 25 — 7pm — Northern District Library — North Toronto Historical Society
“A controversial, trailblazing, interracial marriage between two Nova Scotians in Toronto in 1947 and a campaign of letters written to stop one determined white woman from wedding an exceptional Black man form the basis of a fascinating biographical novel in which North Toronto is a key locale. Author Sheila White will present a slide show about her book, “The Letters”, and The Whites, her historically-significant family, whose members include famed concert singer Portia White, labour activist Jack White, Order of Canada recipient Bill White and their renowned minister father Rev. Capt. Dr. Wm. Andrew White (1874-1936).”
(Learn more at the links above.)
TORONTO HISTORY EXHIBITS
MR. DRESSUP TO DEGRASSI: 42 YEARS OF LEGENDARY TORONTO KIDS TV
Until March 15 — Harbourfront Centre — Museum of Toronto
“Explore reimagined sets, retro living rooms, and hands-on stations that invite you to craft your own TV characters. Meet the felted puppets that sparked imagination and discover the stories behind the city that shaped a generation of children’s television.”
Free! (Donations encouraged.)
ECHOES OF HOME: POP-UP EXHIBIT AT FORT YORK
Until March 29 — Wednesday to Sunday — Fort York
“This pop-up installation explores the compelling stories and experiences of Toronto’s diverse communities who have fought for their sense of home, belonging and identity during periods of conflict and peace. This installation is created in partnership with the Toronto Metropolitan University’s Masters of Digital Media program.”
Free!
Combining many of my interests all in one article! Curious to know more about the time in Timmins!
Cool. Never knew that about Gehry. Enjoyed reading this.