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A City of Tall, Aging buildings

R

rdaner

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THE PERFECT HOUSE

A city of tall, aging buildings
JOHN BENTLEY MAYS

From Friday's Globe and Mail

Everyone who lives in Toronto is aware, in a general way, that our town has a lot of elderly high-rises. Nor are these survivors from the 1950s and 1960s merely, or mostly, concentrated in the old city centre. Hundreds of old apartment slabs and towers stand, in clusters or alone, along most important streets throughout the huge area embraced by Toronto's new city limits, from Etobicoke to Scarborough, from Front Street up to Steeles Avenue.

We tend to take these buildings for granted, I think, and most of us certainly don't spend time thinking about them.

One person who has given a great deal of fruitful, eye-opening thought to our stock of tall buildings is Graeme Stewart, who is currently at the end of his professional education at the University of Toronto's architecture school, and is also an employee of the well-known Toronto heritage-fabric firm E.R.A. Architects.

In the course of his exciting (if so far unpublished) research — which I came across almost by accident — Mr. Stewart has probed the reasons behind Toronto's widespread scattering of tall buildings, which, in other cities tend to be concentrated in the traditional downtown.

He has mapped the thinking of the official planners of Toronto during the post-war years, who thought the city would be best served by a widespread distribution of towers. Result: a city with a profile markedly different from most other North American urban concentrations, with their tall centres and broad skirts of low-density sprawl stretching out toward the horizon.

Another interesting (and surprising) fact Mr. Stewart has dug up has to do with the quantity of tall buildings. With some 2,000 towers of all kinds in the city and its suburbs, Toronto is second in North America only to New York in its population of high-rises, and far ahead of Chicago and Los Angeles, which are, of course, much larger cities.

In the 1960s, even as former corn fields in North York were sprouting thousands of bungalows, high-rises were also being put up at a remarkable rate. All this fervent activity prompted the visionary architect R. Buckminster Fuller to remark in 1968: “In Toronto, an unusually large number of high-rise apartments poke above the flat landscape many miles from downtown. ... [T]his is a type of high-density suburban development far more progressive and able to deal with the future than the endless sprawl of the U.S.â€

So much, says Mr. Stewart, for the “city of neighbourhoods.†Toronto is in fact a city of suburban tall buildings, and, despite the efforts of City Hall reformers to stem the tide, the current explosion of residential towers across Toronto is only the latest manifestation of this basic identity.

While Mr. Stewart's study is a contribution to the history and theory of Toronto's unique urbanism, it also has a quite practical side. The tall buildings thrown up during the city's post-war housing boom are getting old. What's to be done with them?

“The high-density nodes speckled through the region are great opportunities, an incredible asset,†he told me. “If we could retrofit them for higher environmental standards and mixed use development, right off the bat we could transform these currently neglected areas into socially sustainable neighbourhoods. It could be real, thriving community, no matter how little money people made.â€

Over the past few years, Mr. Stewart has been travelling extensively in Europe, especially in Russia and the former Soviet satellites, to learn what's being done there to revive and renew old apartment buildings. Like Toronto's residential high-rises, many Soviet-era blocks were built on large swathes of empty land. In the recent past, however, “kiosks have appeared at the bases of these buildings, transforming dead zones into lively markets.†The formerly isolated towers are being knit back into the urban fabric by means of retail and service outlets, libraries, schools, cinemas, restaurants — all being built on what was once just so much desolate lawn.

Back in Toronto, there's a great deal that can be done on the public policy front. “The city has leverage, the power to encourage redevelopment of old high-rise properties — insulating balconies and skins, integrating the buildings into new forms of commerce at their base, creating shopping, linking towers to neighbourhood amenities. It's not new technologies that are needed. A lot can be done with available technology.â€

One thing that should be discarded is the official planning ideology that treasures Toronto's patchwork of a few valuable neighbourhood “fiefdoms†— mostly urban fabric built up before the Second World War, such as the Annex and Cabbagetown — but has little love for the post-war suburban zones in which most Torontonians actually live. “We need a new spirit that does not see retrofitting as a detriment, but as a clever reuse of aging modern buildings we already have.â€

jmays@globeandmail.com

EDIT: Removed some formatting errors.
 
This is the city I remember from 1970.

We lived just south of the 401, just west of Bayview on Carluke Crescent. There were clusters of new high rise rental towers there and just to the west, well built and well maintained. What a nice, distinctive change this Toronto style of living seemed to us, having just arrived from England where shoddy high rise apartment buildings in the big cities were the norm.
 
When I was around 8 years old my family came to Toronto from Ottawa for a wedding, and my parents actually stayed in a real high-rise hotel! What I remember is looking out the window of this hotel (somewhere near Kipling in Etobicoke just below the 401) and seeing pockets of tall buildings poking out of the trees that went on for an impossibly long distance. So many of them. For so far. It was a strange and exciting landscape for me.
 
"We tend to take these buildings for granted, I think, and most of us certainly don't spend time thinking about them."

This isn't really true. I'd wager that a huge percent of people in this city have lived in one of them (lots of them briefly in their 20s/30s before moving on to houses, including me - in an apartment with gorgeous hardwood floors, huge bedrooms, wacky fountains, lots of retirees to chat with across the balcony, impossibly slow elevators, all this only a two minute away from a subway station platform). They're perpetually visible on the horizon. Some of the clusters are directly associated (rightly or wrongly) with poverty, gangs, refugees, etc. Others were for decades a bastion of old white people but whose keys are now being turned over to yuppies. People do think about them...well, I do.
 
I support Stewart's idea of infilling the space between our older "towers in parks" with mixed uses. In Hong Kong many high-rise public housing developments are built around a shopping centre/market which serves as the focal point of the community. Most of the space between towers are beautifully landscaped and open to residents and non-residents, unlike here where a lot of the space between apartment towers are fenced-off grass lawns and surface parking lots.

Developing mixed-use infill between towers would not only help urbanize the community, but promote entrepreneurship among high-rise residents. At Parkway Forest (the tower cluster at Don Mills and Sheppard) I once saw a family set up a stand to sell fruits on the sidewalk to pedestrians and people in cars. Couldn't say they were doing brisk business, since nobody seem to take them seriously.
 
Others were for decades a bastion of old white people but whose keys are now being turned over to yuppies.
Actually, more to the point in a lot of cases is that they were *originally* so-called yuppie-bastions, i.e. Swinging 60s types. (Who, if they stuck around, grew into said old white people, etc etc.)
 
So true. St Jamestown was the City Place of the 1960's. Now look at it.
 
"Actually, more to the point in a lot of cases is that they were *originally* so-called yuppie-bastions, i.e. Swinging 60s types. (Who, if they stuck around, grew into said old white people, etc etc.)"

In a lot of other cases old white people moved in in the 80s/90s, fleeing their empty nests, although I did know one couple who had been in the building since it was built.
 
My feeling is that "old white people" are more prone to gravitating t/w 70s/80s-type condos than 60s-type rentals...
 
In a lot of other cases old white people moved in in the 80s/90s, fleeing their empty nests, although I did know one couple who had been in the building since it was built.

It's not all yuppies and wealthy empty-nesters.

In Etobicoke, North York and Scarborough, there are whole buildings that have been full of "old white people" -- often postwar immigrants from Europe -- ever since they opened, and are still well-maintained and stable. A bunch of people who were comfortable with the idea of middle-class apartment living.
 
"My feeling is that "old white people" are more prone to gravitating t/w 70s/80s-type condos than 60s-type rentals..."

Some are, sure, but I know plenty of "old white people" that moved into 60s rentals. I'm sure the trends are different in other parts of the city. Perhaps the "old white people" I know also had less money saved up than the "old white people" you know, which would have funneled some into rentals rather than condos. I know of some people that sold the nest and then bought condos, yes, but others sold the nest and are blowing through it on seniors trips, golf course memberships, and paying off their kids' debts.

"It's not all yuppies and wealthy empty-nesters."

I never said it was. I wasn't trying to come up with an exhaustive formula for figuring out exactly who lives in every aging apartment building. Toronto really has had a wildly diverse range of people living in its apartments.
 

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