Jul. 07, 2010 - Issue #768: Crumbling Away

That’s the way the city crumbles

Edmonton fails to protect historic architecture

When the historic Gem Theatre met the wrecking ball in February of this year, it capped something of an abysmal decade for historic buildings in Edmonton. The subject of a decade-long dispute between the City and the developer who purchased it from them in 1999—a dispute which continues today—the lack of any kind of restoration to the Jasper Ave theatre, originally constructed in 1913, over this time led to it being condemned and ultimately joining the long list of historic landmarks that Edmontonians can now only see at the archives.

This is, unfortunately, nothing new for the city. Edmonton seemed to lose prominent historic buildings by the block throughout much of the last decade, perhaps the most famous being the Arlington Apartments—the city's first apartment building, constructed in 1909—and the northeast corner of Whyte Ave and Calgary Trail, both of which fell to fire, the former to a still-unsolved case of arson.

But while legal snafus and fires are a reminder of the (mostly) unforeseen elements that can rob a city of its architectural legacy, the truth is, for much of our still-short history, Edmonton has not needed any help from caprice to rob itself of its legacy. From the pre-First World War building boom that replaced most of the city's original wood foundations with the brick-and-sandstone structures that now represent the most obvious aspects of our history, through the varied 1950s, '60s and '70s booms that wiped away much of that legacy, to the core renewal that is now threatening that, our city is a place of almost constant reconstruction, an urban centre that seems almost paranoid of letting its buildings reach middle-age, never mind beyond.

"I remember a story from the pre-war boom about a group that was trying to save the building where the Edmonton Bulletin was printed, because they thought it was a part of the city's legacy," says Tim Marriot, chair of the City's Historical Board. "But then even Frank Oliver, the owner of the building, the one cranking out his hand-pressed newspaper, said, 'We've got much better buildings now. It's just an old wooden shack, why would you want to save it?' There's this idea that Edmonton just rebuilds itself every so often."

"Basically it comes down to cheapness. The bottom line is what we worship here," Shafraaz Kaba, an architect with local firm Manasc Isaac, points out dejectedly, though he also mentions that that tendency is as much North American as Edmontonian. "It comes down to, when a developer buys a building or piece of land, what's the most inexpensive way to develop it? Typically it's starting from scratch and building something that doesn't have to fit in a not-so-perfect box."

Examples of this kind of thinking in our past are legion (see sidebar), although it should be noted that, over the last 30 years or so, we have gotten better, largely as a result of growing outcry towards the dissolution of our building legacy. With the passage of the Alberta Heritage Act (now the Alberta Historical Resources Act) in 1973, municipalities were granted the ability to protect some of their notable buildings by designating them historically significant. Such a designation is essentially a restriction on development that, theoretically at least, limits the types of improvements and renovations structures can undergo to ensure their historical integrity and makes it impossible to tear a building down, whatever the designs of developers.

Edmonton took this one step further with the creation of its own Historic Resource Inventory in the mid-'80s. Originally focused exclusively on downtown before expanding city-wide in 1993—and in a near-constant state of update as more buildings reach the 50-year mark that is the usual minimum for consideration for designation—it currently lists more than 800 buildings that the city would like to see protected under the Historical Resources Act.

That these locations are only earmarked for protection, though, illustrates one of the major limits of the Act and its effectiveness: for a building to get designated, the present owner has to be willing to accept the designation. As Robert Geldart, the city's principal heritage planner and the man responsible for managing both the existing historical resources and the inventory, explains, that's a more or less direct result of the development-first mindset that necessitated the act in the first place.
"When the act was created, the concern was, 'If you put a designation on my building, then I've lost several hundred thousand dollars in development value.' In the act, they call it compensation for a perceived loss of value—that's the way the act is worded, and that was the perception back then," he explains. "[For us], it's all about the owner coming on board. It's very rare for the province or the city to designate against the owner's wishes, and we have carrots instead of sticks."

Though the city does have one of the country's most generous compensation plans for those who choose to designate—up to $75 000 for restoration costs for homeowners and discretionary amounts for commercial and other properties—that can still be a drop in the bucket compared to the deluge that can come from tearing down and developing, which leads to some reticence. One solution might be to remove the need for owner compliance, and while Geldart is supportive of such a measure, he notes that it isn't a cure-all for the issues his department faces.

"I would like to see the city have that power and to use it sparingly and use it well—you really can't be seen as doing something that's perhaps inappropriate," he says, pointing out that a similar policy instituted in Ontario has led to some property owners going to extreme measures to protect their perceived financial interests. "Sometimes the city says they're going to designate a property against the owner's wishes, and shortly after, there's a big fire. And a fire is a heritage planner's worst nightmare."

His concerns are echoed by Kaba, who maintains that it's popular attitude, not municipal jurisdiction, that really needs to change.

"What's required is a greater lesson of historical context, of why this is important," he states unequivocally, "and not just for the building owners, but for the greater public."

In that department, at least, there have been some positive developments. In 2008, Edmonton published its Art of Living 10-year city arts plan, which included multiple recommendations for heritage projects, including the formation of the Heritage Council, whose specific mandate is to help preserve and promulgate the city's legacy. The public outcry in the wake of the Gem Theatre incident is also some indication that Edmontonians are waking up to the necessity of architectural preservation.

Unfortunately, though, that task is getting harder as newer styles of architecture are coming up for designation. Though the appeals of neo-classical or brick buildings nearing or past the century mark have become obvious, especially because of their rarity, the latest buildings to be considered for designation are often in styles whose significance isn't always immediately recognizable to the layperson.

"A lot of modern buildings are somewhat understated, so the sophistication is in the geometry, the proportion, the material, the form, and many people don't get it, unless they're given a bit of architectural history," points out Kaba, who co-curated the Art Gallery of Alberta's 2007 exhibit Capital Modern: Edmonton Architecture and Urban Design 1940 - 1969 in the hopes of educating city residents on the value of that period of architecture. "We were on the cutting edge in the '50s—in Edmonton—for building tall skyscraper buildings with glass, concrete and steel. Does that make a building worth preserving? Probably, but without knowing the historical relevance of it, no one seems to take that into account."

Marriot says that this is a big mistake, pointing out that one of the reason's for the paucity of early 20th century architecture is because, at a similar juncture, the city failed to recognize what it had. Though he laments that loss, he also thinks it's crucial that we don't repeat our mistakes with this new round of historically important buildings.

"We can be upset and regretful that those buildings are gone—and they are gone, and we can't rebuild it—but we've also got a more modern heritage legacy that we can save, if we can get the word out," he says. "There's a lot of history that's still here that people underappreciate. It's a matter of gaining some new eyes to see what's around you, to appreciate that."

Our ability to get together and preserve what we do have left may be the ultimate test of whether or not Edmonton has learned anything as a city about what we lose when our only focus is on the shiny and new. Though some development—especially that which takes into account new standards of sustainability and densification—is inevitable, and no one wants to encase our city in metaphorical amber, we don't even need to look beyond our own borders to see the value of preserving our architecture. Whyte Avenue benefits from both its historic streetscape and the modern developments that have grown up around it; Westmount has been experiencing a minor renaissance after its stately 1920s homes earned it a historical neighbourhood designation; the recently refurbished Garneau Theatre has managed to attract more business and foot traffic without needing to be torn down and rebuilt; the downtown 104 St district has been transformed by new developments that incorporate the district's rich warehouse history.

In short, some of the most vital areas of the city are so precisely because at some point we honoured their historical value. What's needed now is for us to internalize the lesson that the city can grow around its history, that we needn't always erase our past to realize our future . V 

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