From Spacing Magazine, Issue 71

MEET THE MAYOR OF CHRISTIE PITS

Jode Roberts brings a playful edge to his neighbourhood

BY GIDEON FORMAN

In the Banjara restaurant parking lot at Bloor and Crawford, a historical-seeming plaque commemorates lost payphones. But this official-looking aluminum memorial — mounted on a post above an empty phone box — is not the work of some historic society. It’s the creation of artist, prankster, and community animator Jode Roberts.

“I’ve seen a ton of things that were once plentiful and are now just hollow shells,” he explains. “There used to be three Bell payphones [near Banjara], and then it became one phone and then the phone just disappeared.”

A confession: Jode is a friend of mine. We spent almost a decade working together at the David Suzuki Foundation in Toronto. He sat across from me and threw overspitballs, bits of paper, and paper clips like a kid in junior high school. Notwithstanding, I admired him.

Born in Midland, Ontario, he learned to value community early. “Mom made meals for kids at the figure skating club, leaders of scouts and guides, delivered meals on wheels,” he recalls. “I had good role models.”

After studying environmental science at the University of Guelph — where he says he “won the award for the most broken bones and lab equipment” — he completed a Master’s of Public Administration at Western.

In London, he felt a measure of isolation. Moving to Toronto, he began to network. In 2008 he and his wife, Carol, purchased a house on Christie Street, just north of the Pits. He became famous for organizing laneway parties (the first one of which I attended). This whimsical focus on neighbours has been his guiding home (one he began his community projects).

One of his most whimsical initiatives is installing faux historic plaques like the one at Banjara restaurant. Under the auspices of his Toronto Sign Reimagination Unit, he finds overlooked aspects of city life and memorializes them. Ideas often come when he’s walking. “My foot travel is central to the projects.”

I’m fond of his plaques celebrating the landing in downtown Toronto of migratory birds such as the Rose. “[She] somehow ended up nesting in the Christie Pits area and stayed for three seasons, which is remarkable — roosting in trees and possibly derailed garages. I wanted to capture that moment where there’s a wild turkey in Christie Pits after probably 100 years of wild turkeys not gracing our neighbourhood.”

Jode’s own favourite is his plaque commemorating a memorial for a dead raccoon. The creature had apparently been struck by a car on Toronto Street in the summer of 2024, and was left to decompose for weeks before sanitation workers removed it. A kind stranger printed a photo of a raccoon, framed it, and placed it on the spot where the animal had fallen. Below the picture he wrote, “Nature took you before the city.”

Jode’s plaque — mounted on a fence near Fiesta Farms — permanently displays this witty and moving epitaph. It embodies one of Jode’s critiques of the municipality: it can take a long time to do simple things.

In an ironic twist, the guy who made the memorial later saw Jode’s plaque. “He’s like, ‘Why would the City create a plaque for me?’” So he was honoured, but also very confused. I like that there’s a bit of a ‘meta’ angle to these things,” Jode laughs.

Another Jode initiative is Block Party Supply (BPS), a lending library for folks putting on street festivals.

A few years back he was organizing gatherings at Christie Pits — including pizza nights for the David Suzuki Foundation — and built a collection of street-party necessities. It dawned on him this equipment could benefit others: “I realized there were dozens of similar parties happening, and all of them needed the same types of supplies: tables, tents, chairs. BPS also ‘road closed’ signs to meet city permits.” BPS has grown and now borrows scores of items including gigantic Scrabble boards, 30-watt megaphones (choice of green or silver), street barricades (eight on foot), and theatre-style popcorn makers.

The project is brilliant on many levels. Parties are often private, insular affairs; BPS urges us to take over the street, invite the neighbours, and become more communal. The program also reduces waste from one-off vehicle purchases. And it reduces waste. (None of Jode’s stuff — like mismatched plates and cups — would otherwise be landfilled.)

So that’s my friend: artist, connector, social entrepreneur, joy-maker. “I believe I now have the largest collection of giant board games in the City of Toronto,” he tells me. “And always looking to expand.”