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In the realm
of architectural preservation
in Ontario, it is the equivalent of the Walkerton water crisis.
As with Walkerton,
it happened in the heartland of values that many feel the current provincial government
holds dear --in this case, not small-town and rural Ontario, but the genteel inner
suburbs of Toronto. And it happened under a local preservation modus operandi
that has long discouraged regulation and bowed to the rights of the property owner
to do as one may --not unlike the privatization policies that some say led to the
Walkerton crisis.
It happened to a
familiar icon and local landmark whose continued, unmolested or at least properly
thought-out survival should have been as much taken for granted as clean, uncontaminated
drinking water. And like Walkerton, the very scale of the ever-unfolding disaster
and saga behind it continues to boggle the mind, each and every injury-insulting
step of the way. How could this have been allowed to happen, one wonders.
And as with Walkerton,
in spite of individual mishandling and ineptitude, it ultimately embodies the
failure of a system -- a systemic failure, a failure of well-guided imagination,
that has led to the rape of (with due regard to Montgomery's Inn) the most popularly,
sentimentally familiar "heritage" icon in Etobicoke, the Old Mill.
Currently, the ruins
of the Old Mill in Etobicoke are being adapted into a "Guest Suite" facility,
a signature feature for the massive expansion of the adjacent tea room, restaurant,
and conference centre complex --"a boutique conference resort in the city", as
it is advertised. This is at the expense of the ruinousness that had been a fundamental
part of the Old Mill's mystique for over a century --instead, the levelled-off
exterior walls, or the appearance thereof, are being adapted into an ersatz half-timbered
"working edifice", intended to be in keeping with the long-established "Old English"
theme of the tea room and its adjuncts.
This scheme is meant
to be an enhancement of the site and the hitherto effectively useless "Heritage
Building" (as it's patronizingly referred to in the architects' blurb); instead,
it is a catastrophe, a hokey travesty, the worst of Disney combined with the worst
of Viollet-le-Duc, adulterating what should not have been adulterated in the first
place. Conceptually, it would be laughed out of most current legitimate preservationist
circles. It's in the same hokey category as London Bridge being moved to Lake
Havasu City, Arizona. Amazingly, it was approved by the Etobicoke LACAC (Local
Architecture Conservation Advisory Committee) in 1994, with minimal forethought
or argument, apparently upon viewing only the most preliminary models and drawings,
and without the deep consideration of the significance of the site (or what the
worked-out scheme might entail) that one might expect from a properly-functioning
LACAC . (Or, if it existed, it was discouraged, politically or otherwise.) Allegedly
due to economic reasons, and perhaps with a faint undertone of protest, the expansion
scheme remained dormant until the spring of 2000. Then, mysteriously, construction
started, which as it turned out, involved greater "work" upon the ruinous mill
structure than allegedly anticipated. It happened silently, with minimal press,
but before long the Old Mill had all but "disappeared", dismantled in preparation
for its overadulterated reconstitution, and passersby couldn't figure what had
happened. And when alerted as to what was actually happening, the thoughtful folk
who long revered the ruin could only wonder why. And despite protestations from
the protagonists' end, it all probably could have been foretold from the start.
With the Old Mill,
they intended a landmark; instead, they created a laughing stock. And in terms
of historic preservation, it portrayed Etobicoke citizens as comical, susceptible
yokels straight out of a Leacockian Mariposa, with a touch of the Simpsons' Springfield
tossed in for good measure. And it's all the more embarrassing for existing directly
in the shadow of --and now amalgamated into-- Toronto.
As current Vice-Chair of the Etobicoke Community LACAC Panel, I will admit that
we have no power to halt the scheme, especially in its currently advanced stage --the
pre-ordained damage has been done. However, (and a caveat: I speak individually,
rather than on behalf of the panel) those of us within the Panel do have the power
to censure, whether legally (through de-designation) or through written/verbal
outreach. And the act of censure can be a strong demonstration of responsibility --to
our community, and to the preservationist cause-- even when it involves self-critique,
or contradicts the decisions of our predecessors. As the municipal nexus dealing
with information and outreach on architectural/preservation interests, a LACAC
has it well within its purview to enlighten people on negative examples just as
much as positive ones.
Because, in a sense,
the current Etobicoke LACAC Panel --the first "independent" LACAC Etobicoke has
ever had, free from being shackled to a museum programming organization-- has inadvertently
been handed a signature issue on a platter. Even if the issue's a bit posthumous --which
may, however, enhance its potentially powerful reverberations. For in its sleeper
way, the current activity at the Old Mill, more than many of the much vaunted
and more fashionable preservationist "disasters" current and pending (including
the present redevelopment scheme for the Concourse Building,
which spurred Rosario Marchese's current Private Member's Bill), is the best demonstration
there can be for the reinforcement and effective communication of standards and
an effective strengthening of the always-weak Ontario Heritage Act. And all the
more so for its being practically in Torydom's back yard, and involving a much
more popular --almost to the point of schmaltzy overfamiliarity-- heritage icon
than the Concourse, or 999 Queen, or other such lost/victimized
landmarks can hope to be.
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