In February 1949, Sudbury stood at a crossroads familiar to many Canadian cities emerging from the long shadow of the Second World War.
The mines were producing, the population was growing, and optimism was finally returning. Yet there was a glaring absence at the heart of the Nickel City: a proper civic gathering place worthy of its size, prosperity and ambition.
Plans delayed by the Second World War were dusted off and refined. Sudbury, famous for the metals that fueled modern industry and wartime production, could no longer be accused of neglecting its most precious resource: its people.
A booklet titled “What We Will Get For Our Money” did not hedge its language. It spoke plainly, confidently, and with a sense of urgency. The Civic Centre, soon to be known simply as the Sudbury Arena, was not framed as a luxury, but as a necessity.
A Home for Sport — and Much More
Sudbury’s lack of a modern hockey arena had long been a sore point. For a city that had produced notable hockey talent and boasted a deeply passionate fan base, the absence bordered on embarrassing.
The fundraising booklet even asked bluntly: “Why not in Sudbury?”
Hockey was central, but not exclusive. The arena would host public skating, roller skating, boxing, wrestling, basketball, and exhibitions of every sort. Figure skating received special attention, buoyed by the national pride surrounding Barbara Ann Scott’s recent world championship triumph. Sudbury’s children deserved the chance to learn, to perform, and to dream on home ice.
Beyond sport, the Civic Centre promised cultural enrichment: orchestras like the Toronto Symphony, amateur dramatic productions, ice carnivals, agricultural exhibitions, and conventions that would bring visitors — and their money — from across Northern Ontario and beyond.
The vision was bold. Concrete, steel, and pressed tan brick would rise on the former site of Central Public School — a centrally located property purchased years earlier in anticipation of exactly this moment. The old school would be demolished once the new Van Horne Street school opened.
Inside, the arena promised modernity. A column-free auditorium ensured unobstructed views from every seat. Nearly 4,700 permanent seats, room for 1,000 standees, and additional seating options that could bring capacity beyond 8,000 for non-ice events spoke to the building’s flexibility.
Comfort mattered. Seats were form-fitting amongst generously spaced rows. Aisles and ramps were designed to move crowds quickly and safely. Ventilation and temperature control systems were cutting-edge, and the acoustically treated ceiling promised clarity whether the audience came for a symphony, a boxing match or a political rally.
This was not just a hockey rink; it was a multi-purpose civic engine. The Civic Centre was designed to be used year-round. There would be no closed seasons, no dark months.
There were separate entrances for public skating, figure skating and rush seating. A 12-foot ramp connected street level to the ice floor to accommodate trucks hauling circus equipment and exhibition displays. Over the main lobby, plans included a large hall suitable for dances, badminton, theatre productions, conventions, and community events.
Sudbury could not build its dream alone — and it did not pretend otherwise. The financial plan was as democratic as the building itself. Voters approved $700,000 in debentures by a decisive two-to-one margin in the December election.
The remaining $500,000 would come from public subscription. Every citizen was asked to participate. Industrial giants and small businesses alike were expected to give generously, but so, too, was the average wage earner.
The ask was modest and clever: $1 per month for 36 months, often deducted directly from paycheques (and tax deductible, too). Eight to nine thousand such subscriptions were needed.
Volunteers canvassed the city. Lions Club members, business leaders and civic boosters knocked on doors, emphasizing that the Civic Centre would belong to the people.
This would be a non-profit institution. Everyone would be a shareholder. The dividends would not be financial — they would be measured in pride, recreation, culture and opportunity.
Waiting for the Ice
In the final days before the Sudbury Arena’s long-promised debut, progress came with equal measures of excitement and frustration. City officials confirmed that the opening of the new arena would be delayed at least a week as crews worked through a growing list of last-minute challenges.
Arena manager George Panter cautioned against firm promises, noting that while the building was close, it was not yet ready for the public or for hockey.
Much of the delay centered beneath the surface. In the compressor room, a cracked evaporator tank required welding and inspection, and a replacement head was ordered as a precaution. Freezing pipes were still being leveled, sand layers continued to be added, and the foundation for the ice itself remained unfinished.
Seating installation was only partially complete, with roughly a quarter of the metal frames in place and additional shipments still en route.
Inside, the arena looked increasingly like the civic showpiece it was meant to be. The main lobby neared completion, dressing rooms were largely functional, benches were installed and numbered, and lighting throughout much of the building was already operational. Yet dust lingered on the steel structure, ventilation systems were not fully running, and portable turnstiles had yet to arrive. The rink was close, but not quite ready.
Still, even as officials urged patience, something important was about to happen. Before the crowds arrived, before the Sudbury Wolves took the new ice, and before the arena officially opened its doors, the surface itself would finally come to life. That moment would not belong to a hockey team.
Joyce Salo makes history on Sudbury Arena ice
Before the roar of hockey crowds ever filled the Sudbury Arena, on a quiet Sunday afternoon, Joyce Salo, Sudbury’s own figure skating star, became the first to glide across the ice of the city’s brand-new $1.5-million arena, her skates tracing the beginnings of countless memories to come.
Flooded and painted that very morning by Allan Boyd and Frank Scott, the expansive ice surface gleamed under the afternoon light, and was soon criss-crossed by other eager skaters.
Salo later recalled the moment as “thrilling,” a fitting first chapter in the arena’s storied history.
An unofficial beginning and a shutout for the ages
“It’s been a long time coming — but tonight’s the night.” Those words captured the mood on Nov. 23, 1951, as nearly 5,000 fans poured into a not-quite-finished Sudbury Arena for its unofficial opening.
The occasion was a Senior “A” NOHA clash between Maxie Silverman’s Sudbury Wolves and Leo Gasparini’s Caruso Miners.
Curiosity rivalled the on-ice rivalry as fans came not only to see hockey, but to see the building itself. Only half the seating sections were complete. Two of five concession booths were operational. None of it mattered.
If the building needed a christening, it got one in emphatic fashion.
Goals came early and often. The rivalry flared, tempers boiled, and police even separated combatants in the penalty box.
Harry “Happy” Finch, newly arrived from Scotland, shut out the Miners in a stunning 7-0 Wolves victory. Finch stopped everything, electrifying the largest crowd in local hockey history (up to that point).
The excitement of the Wolves’ unofficial opening came with a minor mishap, marking the first recorded injury in the brand-new Sudbury Arena. Caruso Miners’ defenceman Joe Sauve suffered a slight injury during early gameplay, earning the dubious distinction of the arena’s inaugural “casualty.”
The second casualty
In 1958, the Sudbury Arena closed its season facing a $29,000 deficit, a sharp reversal for a venue that had historically turned a profit. Behind the numbers, however, were the human stories of staff, and hockey fans whose routines and livelihoods had been disrupted by the three-month INCO strike.
Average attendance fell to 1,827 per game, down from 3,600 the previous season, leaving the arena buzzing far less with the usual excitement. Concession workers bore the brunt of the slowdown. Hot dog and soda sales, once a reliable source of income, dropped dramatically. “We’ve been selling half as much as last year,” said one concession worker, who preferred not to be named. “It’s not just money; it’s the energy of the place. You miss that.”
For many Sudburians, hockey games were a weekly escape, a chance to gather with friends and family. But with wages cut by the strike, some fans could no longer afford tickets, while others opted to stay home and save.
Longtime season ticket holder Marie Lafleur described the scene. “It felt strange in there,” Lafleur said. “The arena has always been full of life, and now it seemed … quieter, more subdued. You could feel that people were worried, not just about hockey, but about their jobs and families.”
Then arena manager Guy Lemieux noted that the emotional toll of the strike was evident.
“We saw the faces in the stands, felt the quieter halls, and knew our staff were working harder to keep things running smoothly. People were trying to do their jobs and keep spirits up in a season that didn’t go as anyone expected.”
Modernity Arrives on Four Wheels
Before the end of its first decade, another milestone arrived: the arena’s first Zamboni (costing $10,000).
Unfortunately, most of Sudbury Arena’s dozen familiar “rink rats” hired to scrape and flood the ice were put out of work following the arrival of this massive red-and-white, four-wheeled ice-resurfacing machine.
“We’d been hiring from 12 to 14 boys for every hockey game,” arena engineer Frank Scott said. “And that amounted to around $3,000 over the season.”
Arena officials believed the ice-surfacing machine would pay for itself within two or three years through reduced labour costs since, now, two trained operators would do the work faster and better.
Trouble under (and above) the ice
From almost the beginning, the arena faced an invisible enemy: the ground beneath it.
Throughout its first decade, the floor heaved and cracked in trouble spots, especially in one particular corner. “The southwest corner has always been tricky,” arena engineer Frank Scott noted. “It was right here that they encountered quicksand during construction.”
Scott and manager Guy Lemieux reported that the floor varied from a quarter-inch near one goal to several inches across other areas. The problem extended in a nine- to ten-foot strip around the rink by the boards. While commissioner Bill Baby believed the centre ice might be rising rather than sinking, everyone agreed action would eventually be necessary.
Ice makers and arena staff had long coped with the shifting surface, leveling it before every game.
Jokes circulated among teams about roller-coaster training for players. While arena staff joked about the uneven surface, suggesting that if a sinkhole appeared in the southwest corner, it could even serve as a place to dump pucks or debris.
Engineers were consulted and options discussed included tearing up the floor or installing a suspended slab system with air space underneath like that used in other locations.
Ultimately, the arena commission chose prudence. A reserve fund of $10,000 per year was set aside to prepare for the inevitable replacement of the $100,000 floor.
And, as if there wasn’t enough to worry about underfoot, winter brought its own anxieties over the heads of arena officials. Following arena roof collapses in other Ontario towns (Listowel and Dorset), authorities in Sudbury took no chances.
Manager Guy Lemieux ordered a roof inspection to ensure the building could safely bear the accumulated weight of the season’s snowfall.
Arena engineer Frank Scott was dispatched to check the depth of snow, braving biting wind and bitter cold to complete the task.
“He sure picked a grand day to test the snow,” Scott remarked as he bundled himself in heavy winter clothing. “But it had to be done sooner or later.”
Armed with a broken hockey stick, Scott climbed to the arena roof and began probing the surface. “We don’t worry about snow at the two ends,” Scott explained. “We’re all right as long as it doesn’t pile up on the structural part.” (Scott’s rudimentary measurements showed only two to three inches of snow across most of the roof).
After completing the inspection, Scott made a quick retreat indoors, though not without consequence (both ears being frozen white).
“With weather like that, it’s a good thing we only have to check the roof once a year,” Scott muttered later, as circulation slowly returned.
Not just hockey: Rock ‘n’ roll, soccer & a bingo scandal
Then came the night, in the summer of 1959, when the concrete floor was truly tested.
Bill Haley and His Comets arrived, bringing the new musical sound of rock ’n’ roll to the Sudbury Arena. The concert was part of a five-day Ontario tour, with Sudbury as one of the key stops.
Fourteen hundred enthusiastic teenagers packed the floor, dancing, screaming and testing the durability of the building in ways no engineer could have predicted.
The concert left the arena floor battered but resilient, proving both the arena and its concrete could withstand a vigorous night of teenage energy.
During the early years, long before “soccer bubbles” were imagined, indoor soccer flourished, too. Local clubs like the Italia Flyers, Polish White Eagles, Croatian Adria Rockets and Sudbury Olympia turned the concrete floor into a battleground of skill and pride.
Double-headers filled Wednesday and Saturday nights, reflecting the arena’s sporting diversity.
The arena also became a hub for non-sporting forms of community life, including weekly Lions Club bingo games, which led to the great Sudbury Bingo Scandal.
In March 1962, Sudbury city police broke up what they believe was a cleverly organized bingo racket operating during weekly Lions Club games at the arena, arresting five people and seizing two printing devices and a quantity of assorted blank bingo cards.
The three men and two women (one from far away Roseville, Michigan) were charged with cheating at bingo by falsifying cards and conspiring to cheat, with each charge carrying a maximum penalty of two years imprisonment.
The arrests followed a tip-off from the Sudbury Lions Club and arena officials, after suspicions were raised over a series of unusually large jackpot wins. Lions Club president Lucien Marien said concern grew when jackpots were claimed with 22 to 24 numbers still remaining to be called, far higher than the usual 16 to 18 numbers.
“It could happen once and just be a coincidence,” Marien said, “but two or three times in a row — especially in games with larger prize values — it made us suspicious.”
Now, dear readers, it is your turn to take centre ice. As we look ahead to 2026 and the Sudbury Arena’s 75th anniversary, we invite you to share your memories of the moments that made it more than just ice and seats.
From Joyce Salo’s first glide to the roar of Wolves games, playoff battles, concerts, meetings, and milestones, the Arena has held generations of Sudburians and their stories.
We invite you to share your memories: stories and photographs that capture the games and concerts, the laughter, the heartbreak, and the moments that stayed with you.
Seventy-five years on, the arena stands not just as concrete and steel, but as proof that when a community decides to build something for itself, the result can echo for generations. It fulfilled the promise made in 1949: becoming a place where Sudbury could gather, cheer, argue, dance, compete, mourn, and celebrate — together.
Jason Marcon is a writer and history enthusiast in Greater Sudbury. He runs the Coniston Historical Group, the Sudbury Then and Now Facebook page and is the host of Sudbury Memories on the Spaces platform.