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would handicap any Toronto team that aspired to take the Stanley Cup on a full-size sheet.
    The final problem was the amenities—or rather, the virtual lack of them. There were also design flaws for a major spectator facility, like windows low enough for young boys to crawl through for free admission. Most of all, this was the pre-Zamboni era, when “natural” ice had to be painstakingly created by work and weather. This sheet was constructed on top of sand, which, combined with the era’s poor lighting, made for a murky-coloured surface that rendered the puck only semi-visible to spectators.
    No Canadian city of the time had an artificial skating rink; however, Toronto’s milder winters (compared to cities like Montreal and Winnipeg) were a more serious challenge. They made schedules much less reliable. They also caused regular practices to begin comparatively later in the season—sometimes as late as January—another disadvantage for a Toronto team seeking a national championship. 11
    As early as the 1890s, Mutual’s weaknesses were leading to stories about a “new rink” for Toronto. Soon, these reports began to follow an annual and predictable cycle. In the fall would come word of plans toconstruct a new artificial-ice complex the following off-season, usually said to be located on the site of the New Caledonian Rink. The idea would inevitably be based on the contemporary gold standard, Pittsburgh’s Duquesne Gardens.

    The New Caledonian Rink—the home of the Toronto Professionals—was the second of three rinks that stood on the Mutual Street site. It was designed for curling, not hockey.
    Duquesne, comprehensively converted to a sports arena in 1895, was a 6,500-seat amphitheatre of brick and iron. It succeeded the Schenley Park Casino, North America’s first artificial-ice arena. Estimated to cost an enormous $300,000, Duquesne boasted a spacious promenade and palm garden, a soda fountain, heated stands and, of course, an artificial-ice system. Thus, hockey season in Pittsburgh commenced in November and lasted through the end of March, weather notwithstanding.
    Everyone knew that if Toronto wanted a big-league champion, it had to get a big-league arena—and no one knew that better than Alex Miln. From his first day at the helm of Mutual, he had started remodelling the old building. There was a new entrance lobby, additional end seating, cosmetic and lighting improvements indoors, upgraded shower and locker areas, a large time clock and gongs for the goal judges. Teddy Marriott, the departing manager of the Marlboros, was put in charge of a new restaurant upstairs.
    The only thing not done, observers noted, was the installation of an artificial-ice plant. Yet this was also clearly part of Miln’s design. He was actively putting together plans to construct an advanced, 10,000-seat arena with amphitheatre seating. This was not the usual “new rink” story; Mutual’s owners were buying additional land around the old facility in preparation for a larger building.
    Reports from around North America indicated that similar schemes were being pursued in other major centres. Ever since the International Hockey League had been founded by Doc Gibson and his U.S. backers, proposals had circulated for a genuine “big league of hockey,” rumoured to include the leading cities of eastern Canada and the northeast United States. Now it looked as if something was genuinely afoot. Only two days after the pro team’s founding, Miln attended a meeting of the IHL in Chicago. There, he secured a franchise for Toronto for the 1907–08 season.
    For the time being, however, the Pros would be an independent, “barnstorming” team, seeking exhibition matches against clubs from the pro leagues surrounding Ontario, splitting their gate share between the players. The IHL teams were an obvious target, given the Torontos’ intention of joining the