Recently, I visited Halifax, Nova Scotia to celebrate my brother’s 60th birthday. I have a long history in Halifax. My parents, when they were alive, lived about 30km down the coast. I went to architecture school there. I know the city fairly well, yet I found this recent visit to be a bit different than previous ones.

I have always liked visiting Halifax because it is a charming place with various seaside attractions, great wooden architecture, charming old buildings, military fortifications that you climb around on and an interesting waterfront. These things are still around.

For English-speaking Canada it is older than most cities. It is not nearly as old as Montreal or Quebec City, but it doesn’t give the sense that it is a big-box mall pretending to be a real city. It is the real deal.

In the past, despite the relative poverty of NS compared to Ontario there was always this sense that the government looked after most people, and that regardless, even if things were not that prosperous in the interior of the province, at least Halifax which is major regional service centre, would do alright.

What surprised me is the contrast with where I live, Hamilton, Ontario. Previously, Ontario always was the ‘have-province,’ while Nova Scotia was the ‘have-not.’ This is why in previous generations, the traffic would usually go from Nova Scotia to Ontario, Quebec or out West. If you had ambition you would leave town for greener pastures. I found it hard to conceive of any other pattern until now.

Now it looks like if you want to enjoy a charmed life, you might want to consider living in Halifax.

Halifax has beautiful women jogging by in Lululemon gear, eager cyclists who look like they are rushing to a software design seminar. There is no shortage of trendy coffee shops, Japanese lunchtime spots and bike stores selling touring bikes that you could use to explore the Cabot Trail. It looks like a bit like pre-recession College St in Toronto.

Halifax also has a fantastic full-length waterfront boardwalk and a state-of-the-art Farmer’s Market that would not look out of place in Zurich or Oslo. You can imagine well-heeled American tourists tripping over themselves to buy souvenirs in the shops or drinking micro-brews in dozens of stone-walled pubs.

Ontario these days, on the other hand, is taking on some of the rust-belt characteristics of say an Ohio, Michigan or Pennsylvania: the implosion of a once-prosperous manufacturing sector, cities in which new investment or civic amenities go wanting, or even civic governments that care about what citizens want. There is gloom in the air here and many residents are at a loss in how they feel about that.

Of course, the rest of the country, raised on the idea that Ontario always thought much too highly of itself and its alleged cultural advantages, is delighted in this reversal of fortunes.

Things that a cities like Hamilton or Toronto might learn from Halifax:

• Civic amenities such as integrated bike path systems, farmer’s markets and waterfront boardwalks are very effective in attracting educated young people, as well as visitors. These people are always on the look out for new progressive places to set up shop (especially right after they get their professional degrees at Dalhousie).
• A place has to feel ‘cool’ in order to attract these kind of people. Perceptions of being cool come from many interactions that people might have while visiting and can’t easily be manufactured on demand.
• Reactionary or ‘Tea Party’ style politics is the opposite of cool. It is a symptom of a place in decline; it is when people with money feel that in order to protect what they have, they have to start oppressing those without. This tactic never works out very well for economic and cultural development in a city. A civic race to the bottom will never win any place new friends. Downward spirals are never pretty. Life cannot be not just about lowering taxes for people who already enjoy the fruits of the status quo.
• Political systems must give the appearance of being responsive to not only the practical aspects of life but also the deeper issues such as quality of life, art and design.
• A city is should at least appear to be interested in high design standards for new civic infrastructure and the idea that cities should have amenities that give pleasure. In places where the weather is not all that attractive, design can fill a very useful niche.
• Cities must work flat-out–continuously–to attract newcomers with new ideas and preferably a bit of money, otherwise they soon whither and die.

The LRT (light rail transit, a scheme to use streetcars for public transit) seems like a smart idea — one that will encourage productivity and the generation of cultural and material wealth in this city. I believe it will encourage urban revitalization and help to create a critical mass of other good things happening.

First, a personal disclosure. If the LRT is built it will help us personally: the proposed LRT B-line is down at the end of our street. It will surely raise our property values. But since the B-line is many kilometers long, many in this city might be in a similar position.

There have been several articles in the last few weeks suggesting that the LRT concept doesn’t have much support from the current mayor and his city manager.

I believe that if this opportunity is not seized right now the momentum will be lost.

There is an argument that all-day GO train service is more important than LRT. Most LRT supporters would not pit these two issues at odds with one another. They are surely complementary: all-day GO train suggests that much money for Hamilton can be made in Toronto, while the LRT plan suggests that money might be made right here in town. Both ideas should be able to co-exist in perfect harmony.

Transparency of decision-making

One of the benefits of democracy is that decisions are made in an open manner. If a bad idea is about to be axed then it is clear from the public record why this occurred. If an idea is good and it gathers support from many sectors of the population then you expect it to do well.

The enemy of democracy is the idea that the real decision-making takes place behind closed doors.

The reason that doors are usually closed in what is purportedly a democratic process is that the people making the decision to be not want to be held accountable for their own decisions. They want the power to make the decisions but not suffer the consequences if these decisions turn south.

This latest LRT decision seems to fail the transparency test. It is not clear why this LRT idea — given the broad base of support which it has gained — was so abruptly de-prioritized. Is there something here that the ordinary citizen is missing?

Post-industrial malaise and beyond

One thing that really defines current-day Hamilton is the concern about what it wants to become when, and if, all its factories close. In the past, people made money and found employment from industrial production. In the future much less money will likely be made this way.

Hamilton puts itself on the ‘psycho-analytical couch’ perhaps more frequently than other places I lived because it really is puzzling what Hamilton should do for itself in future. I think the LRT debate involves such considerations.

What is clear is that new industries will need to spring up to fill the employment gaps created by the closure of hundreds of Hamilton’s former factories. The nature of these new industries is the source of much debate and anxiety.

This might be like the Pittsburgh experience, but one that is taking much, much longer.

In Pittsburgh it seems like the possibility of a reinvented industrialism was erased almost immediately by the unseemly and quick evacuation of almost all industrial production. If that city was to do well, then people saw that it must go ‘post-industrial.’

The sudden loss of employment in Pittsburgh was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because air quality improved overnight, but a curse because many hundreds of thousand of residents found they had to move from Pittsburgh in order to survive.

At least what this dramatic de-industrialization did was to focus the minds of its civic leaders.

However, in In Hamilton there still might be possibilities of investment and employment in heavy industry.

Therefore, there is significant ambiguity here about whether a post-industrial future might be able to co-exist within a continuing industrial city. There is much to recommend such an idea. Hamilton needs all the money it can get. It is in no position to discourage future industrialization, despite how unattractive this might seem to those who prefer their Hamilton to be grit free.

Therefore, Hamilton may or may not be in the middle of a post-industrial malaise. Yet it may be generations before Hamilton is truly post-industrial. It is quite likely that to become truly ‘post-industrial’ is not even an appropriate goal for Hamilton.

A knowledge economy is certainly attractive in many ways, but what seems most appropriate for Hamilton is a mixed knowledge/industrial economy.

If Hamilton’s economy remains mixed this makes the job of planning for future development trickier. Hamilton must acknowledge the important role that ‘dirty jobs’ play in this city while at the same time encourage — in a forceful way — the influx of people who have no interest in dirty jobs.

LRT and post-industrialization

How then does this involve the LRT debate?

I believe that the issue of whether Hamilton is to have a knowledge-based future or an industrial one is related to the acceptance of the LRT.

LRT seems more aligned to a post-industrial future, while ‘no LRT’ seems best suited to an industrial status quo political position. [I would be interested to know if there is any sociological support for this idea].

In the LRT debate not only the appeal of various technical solutions are at issue but it is also a visioning exercise that involves the psyche of the whole city. What does Hamilton want to become?

In Hamilton there is often the hint of what kinds of pleasures are appropriate for an industrial city of its station. A familiar trope found in the civic discourse is ‘failures that originate in hubris.’ Perhaps the desire for an LRT system — like what you find in the well-heeled cities of Europe — is excessive and unseemly.

LRT opponents suggest that LRT is an inappropriate goal for Hamilton; that it is too fancy, costs too much money and that the public transit status quo is acceptable. LRT supporters counter that the LRT is not only an appropriate and sensible goal but actually the most financially rationally solution.

In the event that Hamilton fails to find its inner Pittsburgh and does not become completely post-industrial in short order, then is LRT still an appropriate solution to public transit and city-building? Many, including myself, believe yes.

Before demolition 1 (looking south-east)

Before demolition 2 (looking south-west)

Before demolition 3 (canal-side; looking north-east)

After demolition 1 (looking east)

After demolition 2 (looking west)

After demolition 3; view of the demolished site, showing the exposed north side of Colborne St (looking north)

Last week I attended a lecture by Dr. Karen Dearlove who described the site in greater detail and reflected on its relationship to the [now filled-in] canal at its base. This part of the core of Brantford was the western end of a canal that ended directly below where Colborne St hits the Grand River. This short canal (called the ‘Brantford Cut’) improved navigation along the Grand River by avoiding a great meander in the river downstream of Brantford. The Grand River Canal, of which the Cut was a part, became obsolete with the building of the railways in the 1860’s.

The canal system fed an impressive industrial complex that manufactured farm machinery, in a part of town now known as the Greenwich-Mohawk Brownfield Site. There are development proposals to maintain some of its remaining industrial buildings and infill with new buildings in the style of the old. This site is a about a kilometer from the Colborne St site.

The question remains why Brantford councilors felt in 2010 that it was a good idea to demolish such a large quantity of urban heritage architecture on the south side of Colborne St.

One theory that hadn’t occurred to me is the de-industrialization trauma theory, which goes something like this: Brantford experienced rapid de-industrialization with the closing of several large factories in the early 1980’s. The citizens of Brantford saw their city turn quickly from an industrial giant into a relatively unimportant city. Many thousands of people became unemployed and were therefore traumatized. They expressed this trauma by devaluing the remnants of the old, such as heritage streetscapes in the core. The future of the new Brantford was not to include things that reminded the citizens of the old order; if they removed evidence of this past then it became easier to cope with their sudden loss of status.

I’m not sure I buy this theory, since Brantford has managed to retain many fine heritage buildings. Indeed, Brantford is currently experiencing a mini-boom as a regional educational hub, which appears on the whole to be beneficial to the preservation of its core.

But the Colborne St destruction still resonates strongly in the minds of those who fought to prevent it. Brantford lives on, but in a diminished state.

Rehabilitation of the the Greenwich-Mohawk site and of the adjacent canal system, which seems like such a promising development, will have to do without the prominent landmark provided by the south side of Colborne St at its western terminus.

In design, defining what is required is a complex task. What design requirements are and whether they have been fulfilled is one of the more central issues in design.

In large projects, a large book of requirements is often compiled at the beginning of the design process. This documentation is often brimming with interesting ideas and insights, much like a Victorian novel. However, the problem is that this impressive pile of documentation is usually not referred to as often as it should be later in the design process. The greater the length of this documentation, the harder it is to use. It is extremely easy to forget what you know.

Wouldn’t it be nice if all the content in the entire requirements documentation is executable so you can never miss that important nugget of wisdom buried deep inside?

By executable what I mean is that you can send a command to RSpec: ‘Check all of the specifications now, and report back whether they all still pass.’ If they pass, then they are coloured green, if not, red.

RSpec derives from an innovative approach to software engineering called Extreme Programming or Agile design methodologies, in which tests or specifications are written before the software itself. In order to make sure you are on track, you simply run the specifications that you have accumulated over time to see that they pass. If they do pass, then you can rest easy, otherwise you know where your work lies.

This, I think, is a revolutionary idea. RSpec currently works only on software written in the programming language Ruby but the idea could be applied to other design domains.

A non-software example

Recently in Hamilton Ontario the citizens were witnesses to a particularly farcical site selection process for a new stadium. It migrated from one site to another, like a travelling minstrel show, to land at the eleventh hour at a place which most consider not just a compromise but a true head-scratcher.

Some of the requirements for this stadium were:

• Spend the least amount of money to accommodate an audience of a certain size
• Accommodate both a professional football team as well as an amateur summer games
• Improve the urban quality of the city core
• Make it possible for people to get to the stadium using both public transit as well as private cars
• Make the venue visible so that people travelling past the city are made aware of the stadium

Most of these requirements are typical of such sports stadium and are non-controversial. Surely it wouldn’t be that difficult to manage these requirements? However, no: the final site decided upon actually didn’t satisfy some of these basic requirements. It appears that requirements tests were not run as each new site was introduced. If RSpec could have been run, it would still be glowing bright red.

Adequate requirements documentation was almost certainly produced at the beginning of this project, but wasn’t referred to later, or was ignored. This politicization of design requirements is not that uncommon, but it is a setup for the depressing waste of civic resources. This, in a community that can ill afford such waste.

Of course, there is no RSpec yet for the site selection process of new municipal stadiums, nor are the design requirements in form that a tool like RSpec might understand. But this day is coming and I look forward to its arrival.

The Pearl Company, Hamilton, ON

A surprising event happened recently in Hamilton, The Pearl Company announced it was shutting down. The Pearl Company is a cultural enterprise owned and operated by Barbara Milne and Gary Santucci in the Landsdale neighbourhood of Hamilton. The reasons given for their decision to pull out was that they were no longer willing to fight City Hall in a long-running zoning dispute, which apparently has cost them a lot of money over the years.

The Pearl Company has been instrumental in bringing cultural events to one of the most distressed neighbourhoods of Hamilton. It is well known locally for putting on an almost absurdly large number of musical, theatrical and artistic performances in their converted industrial space. They also operate the successful Art Bus, which conducts tours of Hamilton’s art galleries twice a month. By all accounts, and from personal experience, their cultural contribution to the city is of the first order. They are the energizer bunnies of cultural entrepreneurship within the city. In any sensible regime they would be made heroes of urban renewal or be given the keys to the city. But not here.

There has been some discussion about the procedures involved in zoning applications and whether these procedures were followed, but the bottom line is that the good The Pearl Company is doing is readily apparent while the bad they might be doing is not apparent at all.

Development resulting from cultural initiatives such as the James St North Art Crawl gets a lot of press in Hamilton. But running The Pearl Company out of town seems not only to be a bad idea, it seems like a crazy idea. What would be ‘no-brainers’ in other places [e.g. supporting venues like The Pearl Company] are controversial here. Could this be another example of Hamilton shooting itself in the foot? Has Hamilton completed its transition from the ‘Ambitious City’ to one in which no good deed goes unpunished? Many people seem to think so.

Polarization

What newcomers to Hamilton quickly learn is that how they view the city may be diametrically opposed to how many long term residents view the city. We see the same place but may come away with sharply differing conclusions. This disparity of perspective is typical of polarized social, economic and political environments, which I suppose is what we have here in Hamilton. In some respects it is like a northern industrial version of the Deep South. Some benefit from the status quo while others do not.

The epicentre of polarized viewpoints is in the Lower Town of Hamilton and most particularly in its East End near King and Steven — exactly where The Pearl Company bravely set up shop. This is Hamilton’s Downtown Eastside. Poor people tend to live in this part of town, rich people elsewhere, and never the twain shall meet.

Micro-managing investment

You would think that a poverty-stricken city like Hamilton would try to encourage as much private investment as possible in this age of declining public coffers. Yet, City Hall appears to chase away people with real money to invest – with a stick. This city is not always open for business.

City Hall in its planning policies seems to have a preference about where private money ought to be spent. It has a desire to funnel investment into officially-sanctioned areas such as James St North, Locke and Ottawa Streets. These are attractive areas, with great potential to be sure, but what about the rest of the city? Neighbourhoods such as Landsdale are ignored and marginalized even though physically and architecturally there is not much difference between it and its more fashionable cousins.

Surely the city should focus on the fact that money is being invested rather than on where it is being invested. Trying to micro-manage private investment decisions through the planning and building departments seems absurd.

The power structures of some cities work against artists while some work against business people. In Hamilton they manage to work against both these camps. Those on both the left and the right wings of the political spectrum can experience the neglect of City Hall!

Marginalization of neighbourhoods

Hamilton, partly due to its archaic planning and zoning systems, intentionally concentrates poverty in areas such as Landsdale. Despite this concentration of poverty one can easily see the attraction of opening an arts and performance space in the middle of it. This is what normally happens in cities lucky enough to have entrepreneurs like the Pearl Company’s owners: investment takes place in distressed neighbourhoods since costs there are low. Fighting City Hall year on end obviously adds to investors’ costs.

In the US, neighbourhood marginalization and red-lining often has a racial component. But not so much in Hamilton — ethnic minorities can be found in most parts of the city. Here, marginalization is more poverty and environmentally based, with poor people coming in all colours.

Another important factor in the marginalization of neighbourhoods is environmental degradation. As in many cities, especially those with heavy industry, the East End is poorer than the west due to prevailing winds and the particulates they carry. Anything near or downwind of a steel plant is bound to suffer some marginalization. But this does not explain The Pearl Company’s case since areas further east of it that are much closer to the belching furnaces (e.g. Ottawa St) are on the upswing.

Architectural resources

One of Hamilton’s greatest resources is the huge number of old brick warehouse buildings that dot Lower Town and elsewhere. The Pearl Company is an excellent example of adaptive reuse for this type of building. It is surprising how few of these industrial buildings are converted into productive uses as you might see in larger centres. This huge resource exists here but is not being exploited. Indeed, City Hall appears to actively discourage its exploitation. This is puzzling.

Conclusion

There is a battle of ideas going on here but it’s difficult to sort out exactly what kind of ideas are in play. The politics are certainly parochial, the processes of neighbourhood marginalization are severe and the planning policies appear to be self-defeating. However, I can’t quite understand this situation.

What The Pearl Company episode does suggest is that private investment in unfashionable areas of Hamilton is extremely risky even though some of these areas appear to be full of economic potential.

This can’t be good.

Cooling pond and Entrance screen at the Linamar Corporation

Introduction

As part of Doors Open 2010, Guelph channelled its inner Stuttgart with tours at the Linamar Corporation.

The Linamar Corp makes precision machine parts for various manufacturing sectors, including the automotive industry. Judging by the tour it appears to be a successful, high-growth multinational corporation, with operations in Canada, US, Mexico, Europe and Asia.

It all started in Guelph, when a young Hungarian immigrant named Frank Hasenfratz set up a one-man machine shop in the basement of his home in 1964. Lucky for Guelph, he found the city to be a supportive environment for what later became an industrial empire. This appears to be a classic tale of a highly-skilled immigrant with ambition and marketable skills doing very well indeed in the New World.

At the entrance to Linamar there is a decorative screen with air-foil shaped blades. These expensive building components create the impression that something highly technical, perhaps aesthetically-inspired is going on inside. Linamar clearly wanted to build an architectural show-piece that impresses the local community. I would say they have succeeded in that goal.

But the architectural aspect of this place is not what is most interesting. Behind the impressive lobby is a large factory floor in spotless condition. It is a high-end machine shop in the European tradition. There are banks of Toyoda CNC machines. There are boxes full of metal filings and gleaming parts machined from blocks of high grade steel. There are signs showing how things should be done. Obviously, process and quality control is of prime concern.

In one room they were testing parts for the McLaren Group, the famous UK race car builders. Not knowing too much about the parts manufacturing business, I would say that working with McLaren is something to brag about.

The whole place has that unmistakable whiff of success. I remarked to my sons, who were reluctantly along on the tour, ‘You know guys training as machinists or CNC designer/programmers might not be such a bad career path.’

Blue-collar knowledge work

At Linamar, relatively small number of people perform highly skilled work. The workers seem to enjoy their work, tending to the CNC milling machines, making and testing metal prototypes. It is clear the instant you walk in the door that this would be desirable employment for many people. There is a sense that people working here have an enviable degree of autonomy.

This is what could be called blue-collar knowledge work.

Canada is not known for blue-collar knowledge work, despite Southern Ontario (and the metropolitan area of Montreal) being the industrial heartlands of the country. We seem much more content with the basic extractive and resource-based industries like mining, forestry, fishing and farming. This has made the country rich, but it means Canada often lacks the skills to produce innovative new products and also makes it vulnerable to the vagaries of basic commodity pricing. The has been true since the foundation of the country.

Southern Ontario has a substantial auto sector, but most of the main action in this industry such as design and development is done elsewhere in California, Germany or Korea. For those interested in industrial design, this puts Canada on the periphery.

Counties such as Germany, Japan, the Netherlands and Switzerland have much stronger craft traditions than do Canada. These lend support to blue-collar knowledge economies through extensive apprenticeship programs and government support for precision manufacturing.

In Canada, there is not the sense that machine-dependent trades, ones that people typically go to vocational school to learn, are the preferred ways of making a living. Knowledge-based industries such as software or telecommunications get much more attention. High-end machine shops like you find at Linamar get much less attention.

In Canada, the dominant and sometimes naive idea is that the only really desirable jobs are white-collar ones.

Mittelstand in Canada

Linamar appears to have its roots in a type of company that in Germany would be part of the Mittelstand, that is, small to medium-sized, family-owned businesses.

In Germany in the 1960′s the explosive post-war period of economic growth called the Wirtschaftswunder was largely a triumph of the Mittelstand.

In German-speaking countries, Mittelstand-type firms have become experts at producing well-designed, highly technical products. Such small, but sometimes extraordinary capable companies have created much of the industrial wealth that provides such high living standards in Germany, Austria and Switzerland.

Linamar has obviously grown way past the boundaries of the Mittelstand and has become a North American style multinational, but its Mittelstand roots seem clear.

In Canada, an anonymous corporate model is more common, where the allegiances to a skilled workforce or to craft ideals are much less focused. With large corporations the quality of the end product depends more on trans-national economic factors and tends to have little relation to family pride.

Conclusion

At Linamar, it is obvious that Frank Hasenfratz and his family are the original motivating force behind this corporation — or at least, this is how it is presented.

It appears that Frank Hasenfratz brought his machine shop ethos with him when he immigrated to Canada. Without him and his family, there would likely be nothing similar to Linamar on the outskirts of Guelph.

You find this pattern often in Canada. Here we tend to import our expertise rather than develop it in-house. It is unclear whether this is a sustainable industrial development strategy.

For an industrial culture to produce machined objects of high quality, as at Linamar, you have to hold the work of machinists in high regard. In this sense Linamar is both a product-focused workplace, where beautiful gleaming parts are staked neatly in boxes, as well as a worker-focused one where each worker is encouraged to take great pride in their work.

For these reasons a visit to Linamar is refreshing. Unfortunately, it seems like a bit of an anomaly in the current Canadian industrial context.

Model of Gore Park at the Steam and Technology Museum, Hamilton

One of my favourite times of years is the Doors Open season. This season starts in the early spring and ends in late fall. One of the great rewards of spring is for Doors Open events to begin.

When this event occurs in Hamilton, I am giddy with excitement as I plot my route–to see how many sites I can cram into each day. I have created online maps in order to better organize my assault of cultural consumption–and to help others do the same.

I have learned that almost every single site is worth visiting The architectural, cultural and community resources of this city, and surrounding communities, are remarkable. For example, lining Barton Street, Hamilton are an impressive number of large churches, built at a time when Barton was a major commercial thoroughfare. Eventually, I hope to visit every one.

You don’t have to be an architect to appreciate such sites; they are often captivating for all who walk in the door. Usually, there are well-informed guides to help you see and appreciate the social and architectural history that infuses these places. It’s like an ‘embarrassment of riches’ scenario; incredible riches but few crowds. You sometimes feel very privileged to participate.

Doors Open events tend to be social. They connect you with people who care deeply about buildings and are active in these buildings’ attached communities. A building without a community is often not that interesting. What makes them really come alive are the dozens of people who are passionate about preserving, inhabiting or simply telling about them to strangers. It’s like you stumble into a compelling interactive museum, guided by experts in the field, all for free. I must confess I really like the ‘for free’ part.

The above is all well and good, however, one problem with such cultural consumption is that in my case it is a high-carbon pastime. I drive to these places in a car because the sites tend to be far-flung and because I want to visit as many as I possibly can. So, for me there is a bit of cognitive dissonance. Knowing what lurks inside of heritage buildings (usually splendid places and dedicated, kindly people) clashes with my desire to moderate my consumption and keep our embarrassingly-large car parked in the driveway. The building preservationist side of me wants to work better with the tree-hugger side, because both should be working on the same team.

Getting around to Door Open sites appears to be the only environmentally-suspect aspect of these events.

I could concentrate on one geographical area but then I would miss out on some out-of-the-way gems. I really do want to see it all.

It’s this fear of ‘missing out’ I suppose is one problem. I want to see all the sites, but perhaps I don’t need to see them all at once. Slow-eating is clearly a good idea (as we often tell our ravenous twins). Perhaps slow-Doors-Open-touring is as well. Buildings that may have taken hundreds of years to acquire their ‘patina’ may require more than a rushed afternoon to fully appreciate.

Other ways of being more environmentally responsible would be to use public transit, which is often possible, or to use an alternate means of personal transportation such as a bicycle.

I think, though what might prove most sustainable is to do the touring with other people so that a larger group could pool their carbon consumption. This is similar to the Art Bus concept–a highly successful Hamilton enterprise that encourages communal gallery touring during Hamilton’s monthly Art Crawl. I’m sure a similar idea could be applied to Doors Open touring, where the attractions are similarly dispersed and the rewards of participation are equally as great.

Doors Open events are all about community. This community focus should also apply to how people get to far-flung sites. A communal approach to transportation would make Doors Open touring more environmentally-friendly and more fun as well.

Buildings from many periods in the Colborne St Demolition Zone, Brantford, ON

Two days ago, on a whim, I took my first visit to downtown Brantford, Ontario. I wanted to walk around, take some photographs and get a feel for the place. South-western Ontario tends to reward such impromptu exploration.

I drove to the densest part of old downtown Brantford, the place where the buildings are closest together and the streets the narrowest. This I usually find to be the most interesting and historic part of any town. There in Brantford, I found to my horror that a large chuck of the historic core was under threat of imminent demolition! Workers were preparing to dismantle one of the most interesting and historic street scapes in town. The hammer-swinging may have already begun.

After doing a few Google searches once I got home, the full reality of the situation dawned on me: I happened to stumble upon what might be one the most flagrant instances of urban vandalism in the province. I confidently categorize it as vandalism because it doesn’t appear, from what I have read, to make any sense whatsoever. They are taking down something of great value and replacing it with nothing at all.

This is not the demolition of a single building that has fallen into disrepair, or an urban redevelopment proposal that lacks architectural style. No, this is far worse. This is the wanton destruction of an entire downtown street scape, parts of which date from Victorian times. The site appears to be dripping in urban and historical significance. It literally anchors one corner of the historical district of Brantford. Its buildings, street scape and composition speak deeply of a social history that stretches back to the founding of the city of Brantford.

It is a puzzling situation to see something of such great apparent value about to be eliminated.

What is there

The block to be demolished is located in the central historical core of Brantford, along the south side of Colborne St. It is a long block that includes, apparently, 41 separate buildings, some of which date from the mid to late 19th century. Colborne St lies on top of a small bluff rising above the meandering Grand River.

Buildings on the south side of Colborne St are built with sub-structures that go down several stories. Elaborate steel and masonry structures prevent the buildings from tumbling down the bluff. These buildings are a bit run-down at this point but are definitely picturesque. The age of the buildings vary and the overall design of the block was incremental and unplanned. This is what gives it its charm.

Building on stilts, to be demolished, Colborne St, Brantford, ON

It reminds me of several hill or ridge towns I have seen in Europe or North America where a neat row of attached buildings presents a unified elevation up above on the street, but tumbles down a slope on the other side. This usually creates interesting town scapes that old-style landscape painters might find attractive.

Old Victorian industrial buildings, to be demolished, Water St, Brantford, ON

Below Colborne St are streets called Water and Wharfe. Streets with such names tend to be at the central historical core of cities — typically located along original shorelines. This suggests that not so long ago, along these streets in Brantford, there were warehouses and  small port operations connected to the nearby Grand River.

Brantford itself is a small city, currently not especially prosperous, known for its associations with Alexander Graham Bell’s invention of the telephone and as the hometown of hockey’s ‘The Great One’ – Wayne Gretzky. It is also close to major settlements of First Nations peoples at the nearby Six Nations reserve and has an attractive location on the bio-diverse Grand River.

Brantford has a small downtown. There are some beautiful buildings in the downtown core. From an architectural and urban design perspective there is much of interest in Brantford, including, fine churches, law courts, civic buildings and a modernist City Hall. Brantford has a central square in the form of an Union Jack around which some of its most prominent buildings are grouped. Outside of Brantford’s historic core is a variety of low density suburban housing and big-box retailing typical for this part of Ontario.

Brantford, despite recent pain due to de-industrialization in the manufacturing sector, is clearly a city with some agreeable cultural, historical and natural assets. These could be spun into something quite attractive. Clearly, demolishing a prominent street scape in the heart of downtown works against such a goal.

My take on this situation

I think demolition of this street scape is a terrible idea. It should have been preserved for the following reasons:

As a mixed-use place to live and work

One of the best ways of creating vitality in downtown cores is to create mixed-use developments that enable people of various incomes to work and live in close proximity. The block being destroyed is an historic and extremely charming example of this type of development. On Colborne St it enabled people to live over pet shops, diners and clothing stores. This is exactly why people sometimes travel to the ‘Old World’ — to see charming scenes of ordinary people living over places like pet shops! Clearly, Brantford is working according to a different model of perceived value.

Art Deco commerical building, to be demolished, Brantford, ON

The condemned block once housed people, was a place to work and was likely an interesting place to shop. All these people associated with the area will now have to live, work and shop elsewhere. The city of Brantford is in effect telling these people to get lost. This ‘communication strategy’ seems harsh, anti-democratic and completely counter-productive to the economic and cultural development of a distressed community. It makes no sense.

Overall attractiveness and urban integrity

The block provides Brantford with urban integrity and texture. The block blends in perfectly with surrounding buildings and anchors the downtown both visually and architecturally on the edge of a bluff. The individual buildings are attractive. The street scape in which they are housed is also attractive. The buildings are currently run-down but this only indicates a lack of investment in their upkeep rather than any inherent lack of value in the buildings themselves.

This condemned block — due both to the quality of its individual buildings as well that of its overall assembly — is probably near the top in terms of overall civic quality and interest for threatened urban street scapes in Ontario. Brantford definitely cannot afford to lose an architectural and historical assembly of such quality.

As a conduit for history

Mixed-use Victorian housing and commercial block, to be demolished, Brantford, ON

It takes a certain insensitivity to  tear down buildings that have withstood the trials and tribulations of the last century and a half. Each age produces its own sets of buildings. These buildings will not come back. Once they are gone they are gone.

This is not to say that all old buildings should be saved. But it does mean that ones of noteworthy quality at the centre of the historical core of cities should be given special consideration and protection.

This is also not to say that cities can’t build modern buildings. Preservation of historic buildings does not put modern architects out of work. The combination of the qualities of old buildings with modern design is often a winning combination.

However, demolishing old buildings in some absurd, nihilistic notion of ‘modernity’ makes no sense.

What were they thinking? Some theories

The question is for me was not whether it is a good idea to get rid of this street scape — it is one of those situations where the inappropriateness of the demolition is not in question even for a nanosecond. I can conceive of no world in which the demolition of these buildings would make any sense.

The question then becomes ‘What were they thinking?’

The decision to demolish the south side of Colborne St was not made in a vacuum. It was made by upstanding citizens of Brantford, likely with support from parts of their community. Here are some theories of what might have factored in their decision-making process:

Elimination of decay and devaluation of the old

Old, historic buildings — especially ones that that are attached to one another in an urban block that falls down a little bluff, are expensive and troublesome to maintain. As well, some people simply don’t seem to like old buildings. They associate them with bad conditions, bad lifestyles, bad choices and all around moral decrepitude.

Clearly, in Brantford, old attached buildings as on Colborne St are associated with the underclass — those who are seen not to have the sense or the resources to live in a more mainstream suburban setting.

Elimination of venues for marginalized businesses and residents

When you demolish an old, sketchy part of town, you usually displace marginalized businesses (e.g. tattoo parlours, head shops, crack dens) and marginalized residents (e.g. prostitutes, drug addicts and those on welfare). Getting rid of a venue for such things lets people imagine that they don’t exist.

Whenever an urban block is threatened with demolition there is also a natural process of marginalization. Who wants to put money into a part of the city that people in power want to eliminate? The threat of elimination is the opposite of a vote of confidence. City Hall thinks so little of residents’ homes and lives that they are willing to go to the expense of sweeping them away for a simple, but seriously deranged idea — an idea based on the concept of ‘eliminationism.’ This eliminationism applies equally to the architectural and social context of Colborne St. Eliminate ‘bad’ buildings and the ‘bad’ people will also magically disappear. It is a fearsomely destructive idea.

Collapse of multiple owners into simpler entities

When you have a street scape with 41 individual buildings, you may have 41 separate owners. If all the properties are bought or expropriated then 41 owners can magically collapse into one easier-to-administer entity. Making it single ownership makes it more similar to the suburban areas of Brantford where the lots are large and the ownership patterns uncomplicated.

The Colborne St block is the opposite of the suburbs: it consists of a messy warren of interlocking spaces and relationships. Getting rid of this simplifies things for some people but at the cost of overall vitality for the city.

Getting rid of this block of old buildings is like clear-cutting an old-growth forest. In both cases you replace diversity with a less stable and less valuable mono-culture. This destruction makes no sense and goes against all we now know about how to develop and revitalize cities.

Provision for higher-returning developments

Sometimes old buildings are demolished to be replaced by higher net-revenue developments. This explains why parts of Toronto have high-rises vs. lower-density row buildings, which were once common throughout its core. But the goal in Brantford does not appear to be a search for higher-returning, higher-density development. There doesn‘t appear to be any preferred future use for the site, except as the site of a bizarre culture war. Previously, the site  had assured income. No firm plans have been presented to replace this income. Something was traded for nothing.

Conclusion

Usually when I travel around small town Ontario I am impressed by the quality of architecture and the overall charm of settlement. This was even the case in Brantford for me before I saw the ominous blue demolition fences surrounding an area of prime architectural significance.

The decision by the City of Brantford to demolish a good chunk of their historical core is indeed unusual. The buildings to be demolished are quite interesting and their site appears to be absolutely central to the history of the city. Like many such crimes against heritage and common sense it was not committed by outside forces intent on the destruction of Brantford, but appears to be a curiously home-grown affair.

This decision to demolish buildings along Colborne St takes a marginalized city and further marginalizes it. It is such a complete reversal of things I value that I remain stunned and saddened.

Dogs on Roof, Hamilton, ON

This is one of my favourite photos of Hamilton. I forget exactly where it was taken but I believe it was near Wentworth and Burlington Streets. It was taken on 19 July 2008.

It shows two dogs who are getting some fresh air and exercise on the roof of a front porch to a modest town-house, in a poor neighbourhood of Hamilton.

They apparently got onto the roof through a small sliding window directly above the porch roof.

This photo raises some interesting questions:

Did the dogs go out the window on their own or were they encouraged to so by someone?

One possible scenario: the dogs were sent out there because they needed ‘to get out’ and the window was the most convenient exit. Is this what happened?

Are the dogs in any danger of falling?

Do the dogs enjoy being on the roof?

Do the dogs urinate and defecate on the roof?

What do the dogs think of someone taking their picture?

Is having dogs on the roof a common occurrence or did I just happen by the only time it occurred?

Are there people in the room behind and what are they doing?

Is this a display of some kind of civic or personal dysfunction or is there something else going on?

Parking Garage on 6th Street, Pittsburgh

Our family spent the US Thanksgiving weekend in Pittsburgh. We booked a hotel on priceline.com (highly recommended) and managed to get a very reasonable deal. Luckily, the hotel–the Renaissance Pittsburgh–turned out to be stunning as well as affordable. It was by far the best hotel we have every stayed in–or ever expect to stay in. The boys were ecstatic when they saw the sumptuousness of the lobby and the fluffiness of the pillows on our king-size bed. This hotel had been recently restored and had an impressive glass dome in its lobby and marble balconies worthy of the palace of Versailles. We couldn’t afford to eat any food in its restaurants or, as it turned out, to use its telephones even for local calls but overall the value was impressive. We suspect that something must be deeply wrong with the new world order when people like us can stay so comfortably in such a fine American hotel for so little money.

Our hotel was in an ideal, downtown location along the Allegheny River waterfront called the ‘Golden Triangle.’ It was the first time we had ever stayed in downtown Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh has an unusual urban configuration in that its central business district–the Golden Triangle–is relatively isolated from the rest of the city. The Triangle is where the two rivers meet to form the mighty Ohio. As we told the boys, this is where in the old days people drifted lazily down the river–Huck Finn style–all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. Even though Pittsburgh is a northern city, this access to the Mississippi River basin does add some romance to the city’s narrative. At one time, Pittsburgh was the ‘Gateway to the Continent.’ It held a similar role to that of Buffalo–as a trans-shipment hub for a nation bent on Manifest Destiny.

What is striking about Pittsburgh, which you tend to forget when you’ve been away from it, is its stunning topography. Pittsburgh is extremely hilly outside of its downtown core. You soon get into the rhythm of driving through valleys, around hills, along ridges and on top of cliffs. Houses in some neighbourhoods are perched precariously on hillsides, which gives them aspects similar to the Amalfi Coast in Italy or those Greek monasteries built on cliffs. At first this topography is disorienting, then you get used to it. When I look at online maps of Pittsburgh I forget how the neighbourhoods I knew are interrelated, but when I am driving around in them, I can remember where routes lead based on muscle memory.

Pittsburgh has the policy of fixing up its downtown core to make it the most attractive part of the city. This policy seems to have worked out well. Fortunately, there were many splendid, historic buildings in the core to fix up. Pittsburgh has re-branded part of its downtown as the ‘Cultural District.’ There, they have renovated several old movie and vaudeville houses to become venues for live theater and music.  The Cultural District holds Pittsburgh’s major cultural attractions such as Heinz Hall–home of the Pittsburgh Symphony, the Benedum Center, Byham Theater and the O’Reilly Theater. These venues happened to be a block from our hotel.

Heinz Hall Staircase

In downtown Pittsburgh there are many instances of interesting civic sculpture and the quality of new and renovated architecture is generally very high. In addition to restored buildings, there are also other civic improvements such as sculpture parks, river walkways, and new state-of-the-art sports stadiums along the Allegheny river. Overall, Pittsburgh has done a very good job of fixing up their downtown and I would say that the quality of design and execution is superior to most things you see in Toronto or Hamilton. Pittsburgh can be a very classy place, which is something that many outsiders might not realize.

In Pittsburgh’s Golden Triangle, the remnants from previous eras when Pittsburgh was incredibly prosperous, are everywhere to be seen.  Some buildings have splendid cast bronze sculpture, or intricately carved stonework in the Gothic style. Others are clad in cream-coloured terracotta–an extraordinarily elegant and long-lasting building material. These buildings were obviously built to communicate a level of cultural sophistication on the part of their builders. They are as impressive as buildings you might find in New York, Boston or Vienna.

They were built by names such as Carnegie, Frick, Mellon, and Heinz. These are the people who in old cartoons dress in top hats, wear cashmere overcoats and smoke fat cigars. They made incredible amounts of money when Pittsburgh was the centre of steel production for a rapidly-expanding continent. At the time they may have been ‘new money’ but now they seem as old as the Medici. They built some splendid buildings for their city and therefore gave back to the city in a physically-enduring way. This is somewhat of a different practice than what is done by today’s obscenely wealthy, for which these forms of architectural philanthropy are less common. As an architect I enjoy visiting such buildings despite misgivings about the economics and labour relations of Gilded Age capitalism.

If you live in Pittsburgh and don’t work downtown then you probably will not spend much time downtown, even if you have interest in the urban attractions that the downtown has to offer. The suburbs of Pittsburgh spread for miles and this is where most people live. In general, these suburbs are similar to those in any other American city and have little in common with the hard-core urbanity of the Golden Triangle. The people who tend to frequent the downtown seem to be well-off people who work in corporate offices and drive Audi’s, poorer black people who also work downtown and who take the bus, and those who attend cultural and sporting events such as football games, plays, and concerts. This gives the tourist a slightly skewed demographic impression of the city.

Pittsburgh’s downtown is busy during the work week but it tends to empty of people when the work week ends. Very few people appear to live in the Golden Triangle itself. It lacks the high density pedestrian traffic or residential amenities you might find in Toronto or New York. There is some evidence of higher-end residential development for those who work in corporate towers and wish to live adjacent to their work, but this is a tiny portion of the population. The Golden Triangle seems to lack some basic services for residents. For instance, it does not appear to have many (or any) grocery stores.

6th Street, Pittsburgh

Despite the overall attractiveness of the Golden Triangle, it is unclear whether it will ever become a compelling place to live. One reason is that Pittsburgh has many residential neighbourhoods that are attractive, inexpensive and full of residential-type services such as shops, schools and synagogues. Pittsburgh prides itself on the warmth and sociability of its neighbourhoods. The Golden Triangle may be stunning from an architectural perspective but seems to lack this home-town warmth and practicality. Since the border between adjacent neighbourhoods and the downtown is so distinct in Pittsburgh, to live downtown people have to be hard-core urban homesteaders to make that jump. In fact, we know no one who lives or has ever lived in the Golden Triangle. This is why staying there briefly, in a fancy hotel, was such a novelty for us. It is an experience that many Pittsburghers have also never had.

Pittsburgh is now a largely post-industrial city with little evidence of heavy industry in its city core. It is unclear what the city makes it money doing these days beyond the usual sources such as universities, hospitals and financial services and whether Pittsburgh is still running on old money or whether new fortunes are being made.

Despite the fact that its downtown is very attractive and they have managed to convert the Smoky City’s downtown into a show place that rivals midtown Manhattan, Pittsburgh is not always an optimistic city. It has the typical rust-bucket maladies of declining population, pockets of extreme poverty, racial segregation and flat employment growth. I sense that the attractiveness of the Golden Triangle may not be indicative of the health of the rest of the city.

Travelling to the USA from Canada is interesting because it is so different from what we are used to. This feeling of difference occurs the minute we cross the USA-Canada border. On one side of this border is one set of rules and expectations and on the other is another. America gives the impression of promises of great wealth and comfort for those who succeed, but also great pain and degradation for those who fail. The wealthier seem wealthier but the poor seem poorer than in Canada. Not being too clear about which of these two categories we fit into, makes us hesitate to move back to Pittsburgh.

One does get the impression that in parts of the USA during this current recession some of the working population is in absolute crisis–more so than in Canada. The USA has never been known for having much of a safety net and this recession seems to be more severe than previous ones. There is greater fear this time that not only is the American economy in rough shape, but also that the position and status that the USA has enjoyed up until now is in some jeopardy.

Pittsburgh derives part of its power simply from being situated in the USA. Pittsburgh has direct access to American markets and to American economies of scale. The USA does have a population and an economy that dwarfs that of Canada. As we often thought when we lived in Pittsburgh, the USA may not be better than Canada but it sure seems bigger.