As 1973 dawned, the Toronto Star noted there was the possibility of resumed peace talks in the Vietnam War following Washington’s “ferocious 12-day bombing of the North Vietnamese industrial heartland.” The Canadian Prime Minister was Pierre Trudeau and he had a minority government. Toronto’s crime rate in 1972 was up 4.3 per cent over the previous year. There had been 39 murders and 62 bank robberies — with a total of $460,000 stolen — and more than half of that came from a raid on a CIBC branch at Union Station, still unsolved as of New Year’s Eve.

On Dec. 31, Lester B. Pearson was buried in Ottawa. The Nobel Peace Prize winner and 14th prime minister of Canada had died in the last week of 1972, 75 years old. Thousands came to pay their respects at Parliament Hill.

The New Year’s Eve party was called the “friendliest ever” by the Star. It had been a rainy, foggy day — unseasonably warm at 6 C — but dropping closer to freezing as midnight loomed. A couple planning to get married that year — Lynda Law and Robert Messmer — kissed at Nathan Phillips Square and told the Star they were counting down the 100 or so days until their wedding. “Auld Lang Syne” was playing, and the 48th Highlanders military band was keeping the crowd entertained, and one elder statesman of the band was tut-tutting that Mayor-elect David Crombie wasn’t among the 7,000 revellers at city hall. He had a good excuse. He had just been released from hospital following some sinus trouble.

Yonge Street was a riotous party. The crowd was boisterous, but friendly — one of the best parties in years, like the Grey Cup or an outdoor summer mall, the revellers said. A York University student was driving a little yellow car up Yonge Street and the traffic was so slow she had time to talk to the reporter on the sidewalk. A young man she didn’t know leaned into the car for a kiss. “That was about the 57th to do that,” she said as she crawled along. Women wore long party dresses — then in vogue — and young men danced on the roofs of their friends’ cars.

Not everyone was having fun. A Salvation Army preacher said that Yonge Street reminded him of Sodom and Gomorrah, “the infamous biblical cities known for wickedness and vice.” But it wasn’t clear that he was talking about New Year’s Eve. He was mad about Yonge Street in general, all of the “strip joints” and “uncensored garbage” at theatres “that caters to the depraved mind of man.” He was also concerned about the bombing in Vietnam and heroin trafficking in North America, and thought the world could use a little prayer.

The TTC was free for eight hours, courtesy of McGuiness Distillers Ltd, and it was quite novel. (Back in 1973, covering the cost for the evening was $30,000. Coverage didn’t note whether it was the first year for the free ride, but the enthusiasm suggested it might be.)

“Forget private parties. Forget hotels, bars, rock concerts and skating parties,” the Star’s Judi Timson wrote. The “weirdest, wildest, most wonderful” party was on public transit. People danced and sang and shouted about the great deal as they rode all night long. There were a lot of young people drinking, but also a pair of “bewildered” matrons who thought it would be a good chance to see the city. “I’m Scottish and this is one of the biggest thrills of my life — getting in free,” a young woman named Mary joked on one streetcar.

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