Radar Park

Equipment by: unknown.

Surface: rubber and disappointment.

Just a few weeks ago I visited the Craigton Court Tot Lot in Scarborough, which I believed to be Toronto’s saddest playground. However, much of what made that park sad are not functions of design or poor planning, bur rather functions of age and poor state of repair. Those things can be fixed; indeed, signage on Craigton Court indicates that the whole street is set to be re-developed.

What makes Radar Park in Leaside so tragic is that unlike the Craigton Court Tot Lot, it is not old or in a state of disrepair.

It’s brand new.

It’s terrible.

And it’s such a missed opportunity.

At its recent official opening, Radar Park was celebrated as not only a park but a “history hub” – and the park’s unusual name is a tribute to the neighbourhood’s history as a major manufacturing hub for the Allies in World War II.

In the 1940s, Research Enterprises Ltd (REL) employed thousands in the Leaside area, and helped produce the radar equipment that was indispensable in guarding against the German bombings of Britain. Other streets in the area (Aerodrome Crescent, Research Road) echo this history as well.

So conceptually, I am fully on board: naming a park to honour the area’s history, and theming the play equipment around radar and communication? Fantastic!

Unfortunately, the execution is such an utter disappointment that it would almost be better off as a parking lot.

As a playground, there’s really only one piece of equipment: a large structure made of yellow piping, topped with what looks like a radar dish. It’s neat to look at, but not much to climb on. My son’s first reaction was a very diplomatic, “this is…not very much.”

Okay, but there’s more to a park than just the playground, right?

Sadly, Radar Park fails just as much in that capacity as well.

There’s a semi-shaded stage that looks more like a half-finished barn, and no seating from which to enjoy whatever performances that stage might host. It’s as if the stage was made for the ribbon-cutting and is now ready to be retired. The green space is too small to be useful, and despite the words “history hub” being used in every post about said ribbon-cutting, it’s hard to know what exactly they mean by that. It’s not like the park is an open-air museum or anything.

Oh, wait, there is one thing: at one end of the structure is what looks like binoculars – many playgrounds have this – only when you look inside you realize that they’re not actually binoculars but a kind of Fisher-Price Viewmaster situation, with an image of a factory worker from the 1940s diligently working away on some radar. (Or at least, I assume that’s what the image is; as far as I could tell, there’s nothing around to explain the image.)

That one element – binoculars that you can’t actually look through – is probably the most apt metaphor for the lack of vision on display at Radar Park.

The park’s small size isn’t its fault, but great things can be done in small footprints. Interactive panels, a spinner made to look like a radar screen, talk tubes…there are so many elements that would have enriched this spot and paid tribute to the history it claims to act as a hub for.

There may be factors at work here that I'm not aware of, but my guess is that this playground’s shortcomings are a result of Section 42 of the Ontario Planning Act. Section 42 allows municipalities to require developers to set aside space and/or money for parks when building condos. Unsurprisingly, Toronto has many “Section 42” playgrounds, and they’re usually okay, although you can sometimes spot evidence of corner-cutting.

But Radar Park is a new low, and a cynical sign of developers’ priorities.

In honour of the Ontario Planning Act, I’m giving this one a score of 42, and recommending you leave this playground off your radar.