IN THE BEGINNING, before the fractious infighting, malignant gossip, low-key vandalism, overpriced quesadillas and flurry of haymakers, it was all about the tennis. When the Toronto Lawn Tennis Club was founded back in 1876-just nine years after Confederation-it was a place for Torontonians to play the sport they loved. Everything else was secondary.
By 1913, after the club had moved from Front Street and settled over the irongated wall at the end of Price Street in Rosedale, it had become the site in the world of Canadian tennis. Doug Philpott played his first tournament there in 1921. Later, as the club's renown increased, it hosted Arthur Ashe, Jimmy Connors, Björn Borg and Chris Evert. Since then, Martina Navratilova, Andy Roddick and Serena Williams have all paid visits.
Yet, for a private club, the Lawn was always unfancy, and intentionally so. Nothing shone; nothing glistened. Its clay courts were immaculate, but inside the clubhouse, the carpets were threadbare, the furniture mismatched, the gym drafty in winter and unbearably hot in summer. |The bar, located awkwardly next to the squash courts, stank sourly of sweat.
For the families that had been members for ages, the shopworn quality was part of the charm. The Lawn was like a cottage where the draw was the pristine lake, not the rustic cabin. One member I spoke with likened it to an old pair of slippers: they don't look like much, but they're comfy.
For a long time, the Lawn was also affordable. In the 1970s, the entrance fee was a mere $125. And once you were in, the membership stayed in the family, passed down like a sterling silver tea set.
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