Original Heritage Home

I’m pleased to announce that HeritageHome.ca’s Craftsman Directory is now up and running.

The Craftsman Directory is a place to recommend tradespeople who you know are knowledgeable and sensitive to heritage buildings.

Proper heritage tradespeople aren’t easy to come by. And when you do find them, you’re faced with the next challenge of figuring out who you can trust and who you shouldn’t.

Most people turn to their neighbours or other people they know have dealt with their specific restoration or maintenance issue–the directory is an attempt to widen your pool of neighbours coast-to-coast to give you the best consensus on the widest range of restoration-related topics.

I’ve posted about 50 tradespeople just to get things started. Please post the tradespeople you’ve had good experiences with to help steer people in the right directions and make their restoration projects as smooth as possible.

You can access the directory by going to heritagehome.ca/forum.

I feel obliged to mention that the Craftman Directory is interested in recommendations from consumers only–companies or contractors are not allowed to list themselves. However, we welcome recommendations from contractors/companies for the product and services they use themselves.

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A sporting goods store seems like an unusual tenant for a building that’s considered a historical landmark. But for the past ten years the Old Post Office in Bathurst, New Brunswick was home to exactly that.

Now that the Nepisiguit River Company has moved out, what you’ll find there next is anybody’s guess. The city of Bathurst is looking to unload the Old Post Office on to anyone who can foot the bill.

The federal government commissioned architect Thomas Fuller to design the brownstone building in 1884. It was declared a heritage site in 1989 and currently costs the city $50,000 a year to maintain.

The building holds a special place in the memories of many of the town’s citizens.

One of those people is Jessica Ryan, President of the Bathurst Heritage Trust Commission for over 15 years
Ryan grew up in Bathurst and remembers a childhood friend who lived on the third floor in the 1950s. The girl’s father was the building’s caretaker.

“Everyday we would help her carry her books up three flights of circular stairs to her after-school snack and then come down to go to the grocery store for her mom and we would again help her carry the parcels up the winding stairs,” Ryan says.

Ryan’s personal memories of the Old Post Office are quite different from the stories passed on by her elders.

They used to tell her that the building was occupied by rumrunners during prohibition. When the customs department discovered the operation they poured out the casks and threw them in the harbour. To the delight of those on the other side of the river, the casks that floated over had rum hidden in the bottoms.

According to Ryan, preserving the Old Post Office became a concern among citizens when, in 1959, the building’s programs were relocated to a larger facility. During this time, the Old Post Office was idle and citizens were fearful of what was to become of it. At last, the North Shore Militia took over and filled the Old Post Office with life again.

The Preservation Review Board and Heritage Commission were soon created to ensure that the Old Post Office would remain a permanent part of the community.

“To have such a building here in Bathurst in still very good condition and made from stone gathered from a small town of Grand Anse, and the fact that the stones were carried by barge over the Bay Chaleur and into our harbour is a wonderful story,” says Ryan.

To this date, the Old Post Office has not been sold. It has not been used as a post office since the 1970s but anyone who purchases it will have to maintain its character and style.

“It would make a beautiful art gallery with space for art classes and workshops and exhibitions.” Ryan says. “It was a sporting store for the past years and the leaser retained the old feeling by furnishing it with antiques, etc.—In that vein it would make a lovely antique shop.”

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Honest Ed Mirvish, the only person in Toronto everyone seemed to like, died last Wednesday morning. When I saw it on the news that night I thought I should write about Honest Ed’s, the circus monstrosity perched on the corner of Bathurst and Bloor. But it set in motion an inner debate I’ve not yet resolved: does screaming notoriety make a building a heritage landmark? Have they maintained it, a building built to be tacky, well enough to fit in our pages?

Luckily, Ed Mirvish was attached to something much closer to our mandate: he saved, restored and maintained the Royal Alexandra Theatre, almost single-handedly reviving Toronto’s theatre culture. Let’s talk about that and deal with the neon signs another day.

The Royal Alexandra Theatre was designed by John M. Lyle and built between 1906 and 1907. It took its name from Alexandra of Denmark, consort to King Edward VII. Toronto was rich with theatres at the turn of the century but they lacked the elegance theatre goers had grown used to in New York and London. The Royal Alex was the solution.

The force behind the project was a man named Cawthra Mulock.

Mulock had inherited a foundry and a fortune when his great aunt died in 1897. He was still a young man—the press deemed him “the boy millionaire.” Mulock put his money to good use in the world of business but also took it upon himself to nurture the city’s arts culture.

At the helm of the Royal Alexandra Theatre Company he commissioned the New York architectural firm Carrère and Hastings with simple instructions: “Build me the finest theatre on the continent.”

Carrère gave control of the project to John M. Lyle. Lyle grew up in Hamilton and studied architecture at L’ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris. At the time he was working in New York with Carrère. He returned to Canada to act as the firm’s local associate, something they were required to have by Ontario law. By the time construction began, it appears that Lyle was working independently of Carrère.

The theatre was built in three sections, the lobby, auditorium and stage, each a progressively bigger box. The first box, the auditorium, catches the eyes of passer-bys with its elegant balustraded windows and sparkling lights that ran beneath a crested parapet. The building’s interior featured Italian marble, ornate walnut and cherry staircases and a huge mural titled “Aphrodite Discovering Adonis” painted by Canadian artist Frederick S. Challener.

The theatre was a technological marvel. Mulock insisted it be built with steel from his foundry, which drove construction costs $750 000, dwarfing the original budget, but it also made it one of North America’s first “fireproof” buildings.

It was the first North American theatre without any obstructed views; the steel frame allowed Lyle to construct cantilever balconies without using support beams or pillars. This is a relatively rare feature even today.

Finally, there was a hole in the floor near where the orchestra played that they covered with grating. On hot days, they dropped blocks of ice in to keep people in the most expensive seats cool: the continent’s first air-conditioned theatre.

The Royal Alexandra, North America’s first and only royalty-sponsored theatre, opened August 26, 1907 with a production of Top O’Th’ World. It was a grand spectacle featuring Anna Laughlin and a massive cast.

Within ten years of its construction the theatre was one of the most important Canadian stops for touring theatre companies. This was helped, in part, when the rival Princess Theatre was destroyed in a fire, immediately justifying the Royal Alex’s fireproof frame.

When Mulock died in 1918 the Royal Alex stood as the brightest monument to a life of entrepreneurship, philanthropy and quixotic imagination. It does to this day.

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The good times didn’t last though. After World War II musicals started to aspire to larger scales and the Royal Alex was no longer adequate to house them. Soon after the popularization of television convinced many Toronto theatre goers to stay home. The Lieutenant Governor’s mansion, which used to feature prominently in the King Street area, was torn down and turned into a railway marshalling yard. Other buildings slowly made way to warehouses and factories and the Royal Alex remained a single point of light in the heart of an industrial centre.

The final nail in the coffin came when the much larger and more modern O’Keefe Centre (now the Hummingbird Centre) opened in 1960 and pulled most of the Royal Alex’s remaining audience away.

When it was put up for sale in 1963, the Royal Alex was only operating 12 weeks of the year. Toronto’s theatre community was in shambles. A bid put in to level the theatre and put up a parking lot, which would likely have been sold to a company looking for a home for its new office tower. There was a building boom in the city and many historic buildings fell to similar plans.

In a move that shocked almost everyone Honest Ed Mirvish put in a bid and bought the Royal Alex for $215 000. He didn’t know a thing about theatre, but it didn’t matter: he knew a good deal when he saw it. It was one of the most pivotal events in Canadian cultural history.

A surprisingly soft-spoken Ed Mirvish described his reasoning in an interview with the CBC. “There were two reasons…. First, I felt it would be a very bad thing if this theatre were demolished. And secondly, I believe it has a tremendous potential as a business venture.”

Mirvish shut down the theatre for the following year, its longest period of inactivity since its construction, and hired Herbert Irvine to restore it. All told, Mirvish sank more than $600 000 in the theatre before selling a single ticket.

The Royal Alex re-opened with a production of Never Too Late, starring William Bendix, produced by Ed Mirvish.

Mirvish stayed mostly in the theatre’s background, offering the building up to touring production companies, but he did collect a few impressive credits. He produced Hair in 1970, which had a 53-week run in Toronto, and Godspell, featuring a cast of unknowns including Martin Short and Eugene Levy.

Ed began buying warehouses around the Royal Alex and converting them to restaurants. Places like Ed’s Warehouse, Ed’s Folly and Old Ed completed the formula and gave King Street the upscale look and feel it maintains today.

Today the Royal Alex sits at the centre of North America’s third largest theatre community in North America. Up the road is the Princess of Wales Theatre, constructed by the Mirvishes in the early ‘90s for $50 million. On the other side, and a bit up Yonge Street, is the Canon Theatre, managed by Mirvish Productions

Balancing the streetscape, across from the Royal Alex, is a different kind of monument: Roy Thomson Hall. The difference between the two is perhaps the best way to describe Mirvish’s legacy. Roy Thomson was a brilliant businessman who scarcely gave a cent to charitable causes his whole life. The building was named when Thomson’s estate, headed by Ken Thomson donated $5.4 million to its construction. Thomson’s legacy, at least in terms of the community his hall serves, runs only as deep as the name; a simulacrum, an imitation, of Mirvish’s legacy purchased by a reverent son.

When the Mirvish’s began selling their restaurants and Toronto buildings named Ed went down to nearly nothing the King Street culture remained. That’s why I’ll remember Ed Mirvish—because I truly believe that even if he couldn’t make another penny from theatre he’d still support the community. I think he really cared about King Street, that he saw his business ventures as a way to help people.

In terms of bricks and mortar, Honest Ed shares his King Street monument with Cawthra Mulock, but shares his legacy with no one. It’s Ed’s town. I’ll miss him.

Credit: Elaina Adams

A development project in Cambridge, Ontario raises the familiar debate around building heights in heritage communities. Mike Davey investigates.

There are many factors to be considered when trying to preserve the historic look and feel of a community. Everyone knows a towering post-modern edifice of steel and glass looks out of place in a sleepy seaside resort community. Nevertheless, it is a sword that cuts both ways. An authentic log cabin provides a jarring note when relics of the 1950s’ “retro-future” obsession surround it on all sides.

One of the most obvious things to watch for when adding new buildings to an historic area is height. Modern construction techniques mean buildings today can reach for the sky in a way undreamed of by previous generations, and it is unsurprising that developers favour the tallest possible buildings. A taller building means more tenants, and hence more revenue for its owners. However, a tall building can completely destroy the historic character of a community.

Both sides of this debate recently clashed in Cambridge, Ontario, where proposed height restrictions could limit the size of new buildings in the city’s downtown Galt core area. On one side, heritage groups and some residents approve of the proposal, citing that it will protect heritage buildings, river views and the natural beauty of the area. Business people and developers, however, oppose any restrictions that could compromise future development plans.

Before getting into the specifics of the plan, it should be noted that Cambridge is one of those rare cities with more than one core. Until 1973, Cambridge was actually three separate towns: Galt, Preston, and Hespeler. Amalgamation was not popular when it was first proposed in the late 1960s, however common interests and relationships between the three communities finally prevailed.

Essentially, the proposal breaks the Galt core into four different zones. Each zone would have its own height restrictions, ranging between five storeys or 50 feet and 11 storeys or 110 feet. If the town council approves and implements the new height restrictions, planning staff will seek permission to conduct height, density and massing studies for all three city cores. This would help to determine how future developments would take place not only in Galt, but in Preston and Hespeler as well.

Heritage Cambridge board member Pauline Todkill has already come out in favour of the plan and praised the proposed height restrictions. She has also recommended that the city look at computer modeling technology to provide 3-D images of how new building projects could affect Galt’s historic downtown core. If nothing else, it would show that technological progress does not always tear down what has gone before. In some cases, it can help to preserve history and a respect for a community’s roots.

Credit: Urbanpictures.com	Click to enlarge
Gertrude Lawson House, West Vancouver

Gertrude Lawson House stands out. Located at 17th Street and Esquimalt in West Vancouver, British Columbia, it bears more resemblance to a Scottish castle than it does to the houses that surround it.

This is no coincidence. Gertrude Lawson built the house in the Scottish manorial style, a style she had observed and fallen in love with on a trip overseas.

Designed as a two-story residence with a full basement, the house in its original period boasted an enclosed space of 3,000 square feet. Its walls of stone and slate roof alone would make it a rarity in the Pacific Northwest, where most homes were constructed of wood, but the style of masonry raises it to an entirely different level. The stones are not cut to shape and laid in rows, as is the case with most stone masonry. Instead, large stones are set in bands of cement in a seemingly random pattern. Indeed, even the stones themselves are a rarity, not having originated in the region at all. They were brought from New Zealand as ballast for a ship.

Gertrude Lawson was a teacher and artist. She planned her home as a place where other artists and educators could gather and live. She raised a mortgage to have the house built and was the first woman granted a mortgage in British Columbia. Lawson lived in the house until her death in 1989.

Today, Gertrude Lawson House is the home of the West Vancouver Museum & Archives. It stands as an iconic reminder of the contributions made by the Lawson family to the history of Vancouver and British Columbia.

Credit: Heritage Foundation of Newfoundland and Labrador	Click to enlarge
All Saints Anglican Church, English Harbour, Newfoundland

Characteristically, Newfoundland and Labrador are known for many churches and church-related buildings. However, in recent years a shift in demographics has decreased the demand for these structures.

“The face of our communities is changing,” says Dale Jarvis, Preservation Officer with the Heritage Foundation of Newfoundland and Labrador (HFNL). “At one point, churches and related structures were the central buildings in the life of the community. Today, some congregations are diminishing, some churches are closing, and the buildings that once supported the community now need our support.”

In response, HFNL is conducting a survey of churches and church-related buildings in the province. “In order to help, we need to know what is out there,” explains Jarvis. “We need to be able to determine which unique buildings and features hold special value to Newfoundland and Labrador.”

The inventory is focusing on buildings more than forty years old, and is for archival purposes. It will serve as a physical record of the built heritage of all religious groups in the province. The survey will be completed through fieldwork conducted by HFNL and through information submitted by interested individuals.

“We anticipate this to be the most comprehensive inventory for the province of church and church-related structures,” says Jarvis. “We are looking for information including building name, religious denomination, community, the date of construction, changes made to the exterior of the building, historical information, and contact information for people who can provide more information.

One building identified in this survey is All Saints Anglican Church in English Harbour, which was built between 1888 and 1889. Over time, the parish was no longer able to maintain the church and in 2004 it was deconsecrated. However, the English Harbour Arts Association took over (more…)

Click here to view more photos	Photography by Kevin McBride

Walnut Hall was Toronto’s first apartment building and its last Georgian row house. It stood over Shuter Street for 151 years in proud defiance encroaching condos, money-minded developers and the law itself. Designed by John Tully, one of Old Toronto’s most prominent architects, it held the city’s rich and its vagrants. And on May 20, 2007, the bricks of Walnut Hall began falling on their own accord.

After much of the rear wall had collapsed, the city brought in an emergency demolition crew to finish the job, levelling the building. The Toronto Star’s architectural critic Christopher Hume described it as a “mercy kill, a case of architectural euthanasia.” The building had become an eyesore and a safety hazard, through no fault of its own. Its previous two owners both tried to tear it down, and, when they failed, left it to rot: demolition by neglect.

When the building collapsed cries of disgust came up from the media, surrounding historical societies and politicians. Kyle Rae, city councillor for Walnut Hall’s ward, called for a bill that would give the city the power to intervene when an owner neglects a heritage building. He first introduced the bill last year, however, and it’s sat idle since—it has a lot of hurdles to clear and so far, it’s failed.

The city, business owners, developers and Rae himself have to decide what preservation is worth to them. Their decision will change the face of Toronto, either to an historic city of heritage or one of condos, strip malls and forgotten martyrs like Walnut Hall.

In the 1840s, 102 Shuter Street was buried beneath Hazelburn, Samuel Jarvis’s sprawling mansion. Jarvis’s 100 acre estate covered much of what is now Cabbagetown. It consisted mostly of cleared fields with a patch of hazelnut trees in front of the manor, which gave it its name. But Jarvis had come on hard times and was forced to subdivide and sell the land. Most of Hazelburn was torn down (more…)

We’re starting to get content rolling here at HeritageHome.ca.

Watch next week for “The martyrdom of Walnut Hall,” a look at the long collapse of Toronto’s first apartment building and last Georgian row house.

Also watch for an interview with Kyle Rae, who is fighting for stronger protection of heritage buildings in Toronto, and lots more.

Here’s a neat room planning tool from Harvest House.

Select one of their room layouts and then add or remove furniture. You can adjust, resize and move the furniture around the room to give you an idea what your things will look like when you’re done.

It’s handy if you’re adding a piece of furniture to your home or, if you’re like me, you need a distraction from work that’s easier to hide than a crossword.

Harvest House is a family-owned furniture company that operates out of Toronto and Schomberg, Ontario.

Click here to view more images of the Birkbeck Building.

The Birkbeck Building (10 Adelaide Street East, Toronto) was designed by George Gouinlock and built in 1909 for the Canadian Birkbeck Investment and Savings Company.

As its name suggests, Birkbeck was a financial company. They decided they needed a new company headquarters in 1907 and chose this very valuable piece of property off Yonge Street. The location would serve them well—the unrelenting stream of people passing on busy streetcars and going to the nearby post office and courthouse spilled into Birkbeck often enough.

They commissioned Toronto architect George W. Gouinlock to design the building. Gouinlock was just reaching prominence as an architect but had already designed three bank buildings at the time.

Gouinlock designed the building using the Beaux Arts style. Beaux Arts is a grandiose style of architecture that combines elements from ancient Greece, Rome and the Renaissance. It’s usually characterized by symmetry, formal design and elaborate ornamentation. Beaux Arts was popular with financial institutions at the time because it projected stability and wealth.

The building passed hands several times before Ontario Heritage Trust bought it in 1985. Today the Trust calls the building home and uses it to demonstrate to heritage building owners how you can successfully adapt and reuse a historical buildings.

They also rent the building for banquets and film production. On the long list of movies that have filmed at 10 Adelaide: Cinderella Man, Serendipity, Focus, The Rules of Engagement and Godsend.