100 Stanley Street: Make an offer to the City of London, Ontario. Fast.

Here it is. 100 Stanley Street at the corner of Wharncliffe Road South. A white brick Queen Anne house built about 1896, with a keyhole window on the main level and a rectangular oriel window on the second floor. The oriel has a small bracket detail above and rests on a decorated wooden sill. There's coloured glass in the windows. And there's lovely interior woodwork, such as a newel post shaped like a King chess piece.

Yes, it's a bit difficult to see, the garden having become a jungle. Some would even say the foliage obstructs views at the intersection.

Nancy Finlayson lived here for decades, about thirty years in total. Her home was designated by the city in 2010. It stands on Stanley Street, at one time the main road out of the city to Port Stanley. 

But in 2017 the public learned that the city was considering demolishing her home, expropriating the land to widen Wharncliffe Road and repair the nearby railroad overpass. The road widening was necessary, the city argued, to remove the traffic bottleneck, prevent congestion and collisions. 

But Feisty Nan fought The Plan. And she wasn't the only one. Others in the city raised petitions on her behalf and staged demonstrations on the corner. The city was starting to look bad. Who tosses an old lady out of her home just to widen a road?

In 2018 the City of London indicated it was not without sympathy (or realized it looked nasty) and stated they were willing to spend an extra half million dollars to move 100 Stanley to a lot on a nearby street,  admittedly an accommodation most cities wouldn't bother with. Relocating her home was a way to save it from the wrecking ball and keep it within its own historic neighbourhood. And it would only cost $500,000 to cover the bill to move the house about 100 metres. 

Yet when the city offered to move her lovely home to the corner of Wharncliffe and Evergreen, Nan argued it would take the house out of its context onto a bare, treeless lot. She insisted she wouldn't move.

In January 2020 London City Council voted to expropriate her land. As recently as June 2020, Nan said she wouldn't leave. Unfortunately, she was told she needed to get out by October 1. In September, the city reached a settlement with her, offering $500,000 for her home and land. Perhaps she realized she couldn't "beat City Hall." She has moved to a home in Blackfriars. 

Yet despite the sale of the land and house, the city continued to consider moving the home, probably due to pressure from conservation groups such as ACO London. But in early 2021, city engineers suddenly estimated the relocation cost at $900,000 - $1,100,000 and, at this point, some on City Council decided the cost was too much.

On March 23, City Council narrowly voted to demolish the building. (I haven't heard how much that will cost.) The road widening is expected to begin either later in 2021 or 2022. Total cost: $39 million. Of which the cost of moving 100 Stanley was merely a proverbial drop in the bucket. 

One could argue that the city put poor Nan through a nightmare. A lady in her late seventies, kicked out of the home she loved. Anyone with an ounce of sympathy would be on her side. And her house had numerous interesting features, being particularly well preserved. I was "House Captain" in 2009 when her home was included on ACO London's 36th Annual Geranium Heritage House Tour. I remember Nan saying of her home "I love you." If it was my place, I'd love it too. It was particularly well preserved. And now, what she'll remember for the rest of her life was her desperate fight to save it.

But if I'd been her, I'd have let the city move the house. Just think of the advantages: a safer, less busy location; a new basement; new landscaping; the lovely home itself saved for future generations. Londoners in the 2090s might have been able to see a well-preserved home from 200 years earlier. 

I know what some will say. She impeded progress. She's only an attention seeker. She got a great price for her home so why complain. There's lots of old houses so why care about this one. The intersection is a bottleneck and needs to be widened.  Certainly the comments about the former owner posted online have been cruel indeed. Apparently there are some very nasty people out there, posting anonymously at the end of internet news stories. 

But let's for a minute pretend we live in an Ideal Heritage World. In that world an infrastructure change wouldn't adversely affect cultural heritage resources. Our cultural heritage would  be preserved in situ, there would be no expropriation, no demolition of municipally designated properties. We wouldn't be widening roads to make room for more cars. We'd be trying to find ways to get  people out of their cars, via car pooling, public transportation, bicycles, walkways, better planned neighbourhoods, etc. 

We don't live in that world yet. So here's my suggestion. The City of London should sell 100 Stanley for $1 to anyone who can move it. And forget about that high price tag for moving. ACO London has received two estimates suggesting it wouldn't cost more than $500,000 to move the house. Seriously. And surely selling the home would cost the city less than demolition. 

Just contact the city fast. Before 100 Stanley becomes another victim of Progress. 

Move "People and the City"

 

It was meant as a tribute to the people of London, Ontario, from the original First Nations to the community leaders of later times. Created by artists Stuart Reid and Doreen Balabanoff, it was installed downtown on August 5, 1991. 

And the people of London have been deriding their "tribute" ever since.

Not that the monument itself isn't terrific. Each section features a different group of people eg. Early Settlement; Politics; Sports & Entertainment, etc. Individuals pictured inside those panels include Amelia Harris, John P. Robarts, and George "Mooney" Gibson, among others. 

The problem is where it was placed. How are people supposed to study the pictures without taking their lives in their hands, standing in the middle of Wellington Street? Was a monument with such detail really meant to be placed on a traffic median? Of course not. The artists intended viewers to be able to walk around it and look closely at the figures. The explanatory plaque is across the street on the sidewalk but no one standing before the plaque can properly see what it's describing. 

It also obstructs visibility at the intersection. When I'm facing north, waiting to make a left turn on to Queens Avenue, I always wonder if a southbound car is just behind the monument where I can't see it. If so, will the driver be able to stop in time or slam into me? How much easier it would be if this piece of public art was somewhere else.

And now the base is crumbling because the salt spread on the city streets in winter is destroying the limestone. But what they should really be doing is moving the monument to a new location. How about next to City Hall somewhere? Or even better, in Victoria Park or Harris Park, where visitors could walk around it? After all, if the "people" have their monument, they should at least be able to see it. 

Well, at least the city is repairing the base, June 2022.

The Craft Beer Local History Connection

 

No, I didn't drink these all at once. Not that it hasn't been tempting during this past year of pandemic.

Actually, this can collection illustrates a point, which is that there's lots of craft breweries (and cideries) in Southwestern Ontario and many of them are featuring local history on their cans. Which is interesting for me because beer and history are two of my favourite things. They both give me a "buzz." 

Craft beer is an extraordinary phenomenon with new small breweries popping up all the time.  Our society is rejecting large-scale production by multinationals, in brewing at least. London's very own Labatt may be one of the largest brewers in Canada but it's now Belgian-owned (I think - the number of mergers in recent years makes it hard to keep track) and many of us prefer to support smaller, locally-owned businesses. 

It makes sense for smaller breweries to feature local history, landmarks, and folklore on their cans. It gives their product a uniqueness and character companies like Labatt can no longer claim. Those of us who buy the bevvy not only enjoy a refreshing drink but learn something while we're at it. Observe the following: 

Toboggan Holy Roller

Toboggan, based on London's Richmond Row, takes its name from a toboggan slide built nearby in the 1800s. This particular lager, though, features the First Hussars' Sherman tank, Holy Roller, which sits across the street in Victoria Park. Holy Roller landed in Normandy on D-Day, June 6, 1944 and has been in the park since 1956 and is recently refurbished. According to the Toboggan website, a portion of beer sales goes towards preserving the tank and supporting Canadian veterans, both worthy goals.

Railway City Crew

The city of St. Thomas, Elgin County, is the "Railway City," having once been Canada's railway capital. According to the city's tourist website, a total of eight railways brought in more than one hundred trains a day in 1914. Every freight train in the old days had a "crew," of course, usually consisting of a conductor, two trainmen or brakemen, an engineer, and a fireman. 

But for most of us, St. Thomas is the city that killed an elephant:

Railway City Dead Elephant

Poor Jumbo. P. T. Barnum's circus elephant was killed in St. Thomas on September 15, 1885. He had just finished his performance that evening and was being led to his box car when a train came roaring down the track. He was hit and fatally wounded, dying within minutes. 

Sad story, but a nice I.P.A.

Doc Perdue's Boxing Bruin by Cowbell

A little farther afield, up in Blyth, Huron County, Cowbell Brewing Co. pays tribute to a nineteenth-century veterinarian, Doc Perdue, who rescued and cared for animals, including a bear cub named Bruin. According to the can, when Bruin grew up, Perdue featured him in impromptu boxing exhibitions.  

Powerhouse 

Back in London, you can find Powerhouse Brewery in the repurposed Kellogg's Factory in Old East Village. The brewery takes its name from its home in the electrical facility of the old cereal factory, proudly pictured on all their cans. The Kellogg's plant closed in 2014, ending the company's 100-year presence in London. 

Toboggan Blackfriars Bridge

Just found Blackfriars Bridge stout in a can. Features London's very own recently-refurbished Blackfriars Bridge which, of course, is not far from Toboggan itself. The bridge has been portrayed in many artistic works, including a series of stained glass windows by Ted Goodden, but it was about time it appeared on a beer can. One of my favourites. 

A Monument to Dr. O.

The owners of this home at 172 Central Avenue have applied for a demolition permit. A great pity, because the home is of significant national historic importance. It was the London residence of the Mohawk physician, Dr. Oronhyatekha.

Dr. O was a remarkable man. Born on the Six Nations Reserve near Brantford, he went on to become the first indigenous Canadian to attend Oxford University. He was the second individual of indigenous descent to become a physician in Canada and practiced his profession right here in London. On top of that, in 1878 he applied to become the first non-white member of the Independent Order of Foresters (IOF), a fraternal and financial institution. By 1881, he was IOF's Supreme Chief Ranger, a position he held for 26 years. During that time, he enforced rigorous medical underwriting procedures and expanded the IOF's product offerings. Between 1881 and 1907, the year of his death, the organization grew from fewer than 500 members to more than 250,000.

In 1889, Dr. Oronhyatekha moved to Toronto where IOF had relocated. In Toronto, Dr. O. has been honoured with a Toronto Historical Board plaque dedicated in 1995. The house he rented at 209 Carlton is listed in the Cabbagetown Heritage Inventory and a nearby street has been named Doctor O. Lane. Unfortunately, his London home - this well-built, sturdy Italianate-style structure built about 1881 - is looking shabby. What the owners intend to do with the property once they've demolished the house has not yet been revealed.

The City of London must turn down this demolition request. To do otherwise sends a message that London doesn't value the contributions of the indigenous community, a sad statement in this era of supposed reconciliation. Let's get this message across at the Planning and Environment Committee meeting at City Hall, Monday July 16, 2018, after 4:30 pm. Letters of support may be sent to the committee secretary, Heather Lysynski, at hlysynsk@london.ca.

Update: PEC voted 5-0 in favour of turning down the demolition request and designating this building. Next step is for the issue to go before full Council on Tuesday July 24.

The owner was planning on redeveloping the site with what he termed "infill," merely saving the facade of the house. But infill means developing a vacant lot by inserting a building sympathetic to the neighbourhood, not tearing down an old structure and rebuilding on the same site.

July 24: City Council voted 15-0 to designate. Stay tuned.

The London Free Press building: Adaptive Reuse?

The London Free Press building at 369 York Street is going to be renovated as Venture London, a small business and innovation hub that will support start-ups. Farhi Holdings, the current owner of the building, will partner with TechAlliance, the London Small Business Centre and the London Institute to develop the multi-million dollar renovation. The building may open as early as this year with amenities such as an indoor event space, rooftop patio, and catering facility.

According to Shmuel Farhi in a Free Press article this project will help make London's downtown "a world-class, vibrant core." I'm not sure about world-class, but reusing the Free Press building is a step in the right direct for many reasons:

1. Reusing a building conserves natural resources, since it minimizes the need for new materials. If we recycle pop cans, why not buildings? Adaptive reuse is an important aspect of the green movement. 

2. Adaptive reuse is often more economical than starting fresh. While the final bill for this project is unknowable at this point, renovation is likely cheaper than if the partners were to build from scratch. 

3. The project may help revitalize this rather uninspiring section of York Street near the railroad tracks. I often walk about downtown but, at the moment, this area doesn't have much to recommend it for a stroll.

4. The Free Press building was constructed in 1965 when the newspaper needed more space than was available at their previous Richmond and Queens location. As a mid-twentieth century building, 369 York Street has never struck me as one of London's most attractive. The refurbishment may actually make the structure more inviting. 

5. Preserving the Free Press building saves the memories of many current and former Free Press employees, who may have been saddened if their former haunt had sat empty, gradually falling down, and possibly being demolished. 

5. Finally, if successful, this renovation sets an example for future adaptive reuse projects in London. Now we just have to find new uses for Wright Lithographing, the old Central Library on Queens Avenue, closed churches, surplus schools ...

Update, March 2021: Three years later, the Free Press building is empty and unused, just like the Wright building and old Central Library.  All under the same ownership. Surprise. 

Update, May 2023: Now Farhi Landholdings intends to demolish the building. So much for adaptive reuse. While not a favourite of mine, this building created memories for many Londoners. 

Final Update, January 2024: Demolition underway. Hope this spot won't be another one of London's "temporary" parking lots. RIP. 

Snagged a photo while waiting for a train at the CNR crossing on Colborne. 

The Purpose of Heritage Conservation Districts

467-469 Dufferin Avenue may not look newsworthy. But another London heritage battle is looming over this one-storey vinyl-sided building on the south side of Dufferin between Maitland and Colborne. Marigold Homes wants to replace it with a 3 1/2 storey apartment building with 12 "microsuites." According to a Free Press article, the owner, Ben Lansink, thinks it's "awful looking" and "beyond repair." Of course, he's let it deteriorate to its current condition himself. He also claims the design for the new building will "fit in" with the historic neighbourhood, although no new design is going to fit in like the real historic building that's already there. 

The issue is not whether there could be a demand for microsuites, or tiny apartments, in the core. I'll bet there is. But the place for them is not on the site of what may very well be one of the oldest buildings in London.

This may be one of the original British military barracks buildings, moved here about the time the military base closed to become Victoria Park. City records show the building has been on this site since 1874, coincidentally the year the barracks buildings were sold to be moved elsewhere. The building might date to as early as the 1840s but, of course, without a detailed inspection of the interior it's difficult to say for sure. Furthermore, 467 was the first office of the London District Trades and Labour Council as indicated by old city directories. 

This is West Woodfield Conservation District. The point of conservation districts is to conserve heritage. There isn't much point in creating Heritage Conservation Districts (HCDs) if the city is going to allow property owners to demolish the buildings within. Make changes to buildings, yes. Create sympathetic additions, fine. But not demolish the oldest, most historic structures we have.

Let's hope the city agrees the microsuites should be built elsewhere. Otherwise, we have a precedent for the further erosion of the heritage resources within Woodfield. Once this building comes down, why not others?

Update, December 2017: The city's Planning and Environment Committee (PEC) has turned down Marigold's request to build microsuite apartments on this site. Not because PEC thinks the building is worth saving but because the planned apartments would create too much intensification in the area. While the decision saves 467-469 Dufferin for now, how much longer will it be allowed to deteriorate?

Update, January 2018: Once again PEC has turned down Marigold's demolition request. Stay tuned.

Update January 2020: LPAT gave the developer the go ahead to demolish the buildings, overturning London Council's decision. Not surprising, because this is what LPAT does.

Schools: M. B. McEachren, Lambeth

There was a time when Lambeth students wishing to further their education after elementary school had to take the traction line to London or board in the city. The building known as the Lambeth Continuation School came to their rescue when it opened in 1925 to teach Forms 1 to 4, later called Grades 9 to 12. Students taking Grade 13 still had to go to London.

After the continuation school closed in 1949, students once again headed into the city to attend high school. The building then became S. S. # 17, later known as Lambeth Public School. In 1965 its name changed again to M. B. McEachren School after a dedicated teacher named Margaret B. McEachren who taught there for 23 years. Additional classrooms and wings were added over the years.

Declared surplus by the Thames Valley District School Board in 2010, the old school has been owned by Lambeth Health Organization since 2015. Their plan is to demolish the building and build a medical centre on the site. The proposed building intentionally pays tribute to the school, with its red brick horizontal appearance. But why build something similar when you could just renovate the original?

On September 11, 2017, London City Council's Planning & Environment Committee (PEC) voted to remove the school from the city's heritage inventory list, just one year after city politicians voted to preserve it as a heritage property. Odd, since the heritage value hasn't changed. And Lambeth isn't overly endowed with heritage buildings.

All of this leads to the question, what does our society do with all its surplus schools? There are a great many of them everywhere, due to the decline in enrollment. Not surprising - the baby boom is over. Since 2006, the TVDSB has closed 33 schools. (For pictures of schools recently sold, see here.) Not all of them are architectural gems, of course, especially the ones built in mid-20th century which usually look like concrete bunkers. It would be difficult to justify saving all of them, especially since many sit on valuable land in key locations.

But the older heritage schools with style are more worth preserving. McEachren School - like quite a few others - could be renovated into a health centre, community centre, offices, shopping centre, college, apartments ... Just look here, here, and here. (OK, the last link shows the school being demolished but it was certainly successful for a while, each classroom being a separate shop). Personally, I'd like to move into the McEachren Apartments.

Update, September 20, 2017: City Council has decided to designate the school property with Councillor Jesse Helmer suggesting the building be renovated for a new use.