New Address

Our first meeting to discuss what to do with The Campanile took place at Jane’s house over a supper of salad, lots of red wine, and supper ordered in from Swiss Chalet. It was hardly a grand celebration but events were moving quickly and planning supper parties was not a high priority for anyone. Jane suggested we meet at The Campanile the next morning at 9AM in the superintendents’ office.

Jane had prepared some documents that explained how we could divert the realized revenue from The Campanile into yet another trust that would subsequently reduce our tax liability AND provide us with certain business deductions. I didn’t understand one word of what she said.

Ardie pointed out that as co-owners we were all “entitled” to assume residency in a suite at the building. Ardie further pointed out that as he saw things we should be able to rent suites at a discount, and have the discounted rent deducted from our profits. This way, Ardie stressed this point; we would be “living for free” and still making some money on the side from the rental revenues The Campanile generated.

Jane seemed disinclined to follow this logic and also announced that she would be representing Miss Cousins to the shareholders. In effect, Jane and Miss Cousins would be calling the shots and Ardie and I were going to do as we were told. I didn’t care as long as I somehow moved out of my basement apartment. I really was tired of living across from the laundry room of my building and smelling laundry detergent all the time.

Ardie’s desire to move to The Campanile—and take over a large full-floor apartment—was motivated by his lack of ready cash. Ardie had committed the most unforgivable sin imaginable in his particular social milieu; he had lost most of his money.

The funny thing about Toronto is that you really never could tell who was rich. Most of the truly wealthy didn’t flash their cash. I knew from the media that the Grades had millions. “Hundreds of millions” according to Jane.

The Beebes were possessed of a legendary fortune; Beebe Grade had combined her own fortune with the smaller fortune her husband held and watched her net worth grow over the years. Both The Canadian Record and their other publishing ventures were profitable, and Ted Grade had long ago moved their investments into newer technologies and opportunities. General contracting, property development, stock market investments and other wise decisions put the Grades among the wealthiest people in the nation.

Beebe and Ardie had one sister who lived outside of the city on a horse farm in King City. Margery Beebe Temple followed her sister’s advice and had all of her money professionally managed by Hugh Adshead & Partners. Professional money managers to the wealthy for many years the discreet service they provided ensured that their clients maintained their fortunes despite any untoward activity in the market.

Ardie—always something of a problem when it came to money—had bickered both with Beebe and Hugh Adshead in the late 1970s and taken his investments out of the firm. It was a fatal error.

Speculation over property developed ran riot in Toronto in the early 1980s and Ardie had been persuaded to invest a great deal of his fortune—an amount in excess of 25 million dollars—in proposed suburb developments surrounding the city.

He lost his shirt.

Property values plummeted and Ardie soon found himself in the distinctly unpleasant position of having to announce to Beebe and Margery that he was running out of money. Beebe was sympathetic but unyielding; Ardie had no business managing money and it was “his own damn fault!” that his money was gone. Beebe also saw to it that Margery—who could be something of a soft touch—didn’t hand over any money to Ardie. He would just have to decorate his way back to financial independence.

It is worth pointing out that Ardie’s idea of poverty was not the same as yours or mine. Ardie still had a few million and still owned some property. What he could not do, however, was support his lifestyle without continuing to operate both his interior design business and his antique shop.

Jane came to the rescue with a “smart plan” that would see both Ardie and I move into apartments at The Campanile while also providing a monthly stipend from the rent. I was in heaven.

The Campanile was not without some problems. There was a long-term and ongoing property line dispute with the condominium development next door, and the building was old and therefore always in need of some repair. The taxes—which were astronomical—were expected to go up and there were some concerns that the roof would need restoration at some point in the next five years.

The result was that I could take over 7A; a charming two-bedroom apartment with a rear view and a coveted corner spot and Ardie would move into 12B and enjoy a full-floor of space. I could move in anytime while Ardie would need to wait a few months. The current tenants of 12B were moving to Vancouver to live closer to their daughter; they needed some time to pack and empty the apartment.

I had already given my notice (planning ahead and wishful thinking) and couldn’t wait to get into 7A and tour my new digs. Ardie and Jane were still discussing the operating specifics of the building so I excused myself to go tour 7A. The elevators at The Campanile were wonderful old relics of a quieter time. They rose slowly, silently and majestically toward the 7th floor, opening quietly and depositing me in a small lobby with four front doors. (The 7th floor had four apartments; I may not have been moving into the biggest and grandest space in the building but damn it I was moving in!)

My apartment faced the rear of the building and overlooked midtown Toronto and the leafy neighbourhood to the east. The entry foyer was small and dark, with two closets for overcoats and outerwear. There was a powder room adjacent to the front door (I had a guest bathroom!) and the floors were a gorgeous wood in a style I later came to know as Parquet de Versailles. Ardie had taken pleasure in the floors, which were expensive and no longer found in apartment buildings. The living room was spacious and was located in the corner, giving me an apartment with two views. The kitchen was small but adequate, and had room for a table and four chairs. One small bedroom was located near the kitchen while the master suite was at the back of the apartment with two walk-in closets and a large master bath.

It was home, and it was mine.