From the Post:
'Inclusive, not exclusive'
The Rivertowne Development Is At The Forefront Of The City's Next Experiment In Social Housing
Zosia Bielski, National Post
Published: Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Toronto authorities are taking a sledgehammer to housing projects built just 50 years ago, doing away with the old philosophy -- separation -- in favour of a new one: integration. This week, city council will vote to start remaking Lawrence Heights, where market-value housing will be put amid public housing. Today, Zosia Bielski looks at the mixed-income development that will replace Riverdale's Don Mount Court.
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The sales centre for Rivertowne, a new mixed-income community going up in Riverdale, is a sunny dream. Perched on a residential stretch of Dundas Street just east of the Don Valley, it offers an astonishingly unobstructed view of the downtown skyline and the quaint boutiques and well-reviewed bistros of nearby Leslieville.
Smiling down from Rivertowne's construction hoarding are giant cut-outs depicting the type of people its creators are hoping will move here: There is Elena, an artist turned bike courier; Jeff, a Swedish-Chinese copywriter; and Leo, a grandfatherly retiree. "Inclusive, not exclusive," one slogan reads.
One recent afternoon, the centre bustled with fathers helping daughters pick out their starter homes. With some townhouses going as cheap as $219,990, Rivertowne is now 75% sold.
A rep who walked them through sleek sample kitchens casually mentioned that developers Intracorp and Marion Hill are now building 232 rent-geared-to-income (RGI) units on the site for the neighbourhood's "working people," whose social housing, Don Mount Court, was razed four years ago in preparation for Rivertowne. Their homes, the rep noted, would be "identical" to the 187 red brick Victorians up for sale.
These comments went largely unnoticed, the daughters more preoccupied with terraces and parking garage security, perks available with many of the market units.
Rivertowne's most expensive townhome is going for $389,000. To many prospective buyers, the new community is just a great steal. The fact that it's at the helm of the city's next experiment in social housing seems secondary.
Because occupancy is slated for next summer, Rivertowne will be Toronto's first attempt to remake one of its many gloomy, mid-century housing projects -- in this case, Don Mount Court -- into a thriving mixed income community. It will also serve as a forerunner to the Regent Park and Lawrence Heights revitalizations.
Outside the sales centre, one prospective buyer was wary. Impressed with the downtown location, a man who would only give his first name, Solomon, couldn't help but wonder: Would the market value of his townhome drop if it turned out his neighbours weren't as amicable as the faces peering down from the hoarding?
"It's a unique concept," he says, referring to mixed-income housing. "But I have to think about my investment."
Rivertowne's ''inclusive'' ad campaign is likely the most telling note in the city's relentlessly optimistic mission to heal its public housing by mixing neighbours of different social and economic classes in homes that don't tell the difference.
The mixed-income model is being rigorously applied across the city's most blighted housing projects, including Regent Park and, most recently, Lawrence Heights. Local politicians are agitating for open street grids, more green space and better-quality homes that give away less about the income of their inhabitants.
"This should drift into a new life," Mark Guslits says about Don Mount Court. Mr. Guslits is the chief development officer of the Toronto Community Housing Corporation, one of North America's largest providers of social housing and the one driving change at Regent Park, Lawrence Heights and Don Mount.
Mr. Guslits admits many of the redevelopments still divide economic classes, simply because it would be logistically difficult, say, for condo management to deal with rent-geared-to-income units on its property. But he's hopeful.
"I think the evolution of this will create more mixing from one to the other," he says, referring to Don Mount. "We're certainly going to be encouraging people in RGI units to take advantage of low-income, low-requirement mortgages to maybe one day move into one of the units across the street from them."
Today, what's left of Don Mount Court sits tucked away north of Queen Street East, the last white stucco homes visible south of the sales centre. A crumbling block enjoyed by local drug dealers, Don Mount is physically isolated from the surrounding neighbourhood -- there are no through streets.
The atmosphere on this end of the development is cagey. Many original tenants still live here, waiting to be relocated to addresses they're still not certain of. "The rich people are cumming [sic]," reads graffiti on a mailbox. An arrow points north, to the sales centre.
It's a portrait of disparity, one the city's politicians are keen to erase.
But in 1968, Don Mount Court was offered up with the same good intentions of today's redevelopment. The spacious and mostly car-free project stood out like a cutting-edge modernist dream, what one critic described as "hack-Corbusien."
"There were a lot of subtle things that it was trying to encourage. We were very much interested in trying to build a community and a relationship between people," says architect Raymond Moriyama, now retired from Moriyama and Teshima -- the firm behind the equally futuristic Bata Shoe Museum, Toronto Reference Library and Ontario Science Centre.
Mr. Moriyama said Don Mount was plagued from the start. His firm resigned when it became apparent contractors were cutting corners.
"We started to see things getting nibbled away, largely inexpensive things like insulation, vapour barriers, weather stripping, all the pragmatic things that were important to the life of the building. We knew that it would be a disaster in a few years."
By 2002, Don Mount Court was deemed structurally unsafe. Its new landlord, the Toronto Community Housing Corporation, decided to rebuild the entire complex as a mixed-income community.
Rivertowne's RGIs and condominium townhouses will all feature brick exteriors and high gables that fit better with Riverdale's Victorians. Landscaped boulevards, courtyards, pedestrian walkways and a two-acre park are also on the way. The reestablishment of Munro Street between Dundas and Queen means the neighbourhood will open to the street grid for the first time since it was shut off 40 years ago.
"Don Mount Court is where you design and then redesign," says local councillor Paula Fletcher. "It's a smaller redevelopment [than Regent Park], so you can make your mistakes on a smaller scale so you don't make them again."
Today's "mix crusaders" see themselves undoing the blunders of Toronto's mid-century urban planners, who would expropriate properties in derelict parts of town, demolish them and construct public housing for low-income families, as was the case in Don Mount Court.
"We created slums with the approach that we took," says councillor Giorgio Mammoliti, the city's affordable housing chairman. "You can't segregate a population and expect that everything is going to be run safely and properly."
"Until such time as someone proves to me that mixed communities don't work, that's the direction I'm going to hold firm to. That's what we need to do in Toronto," Mr. Mammoliti says.
But little evidence exists to support the theoretical benefits of mixed-income redevelopments, for the simple reason that not enough time has passed to allow experts, whatever their political stripe, to form accurate conclusions.
Critics seem to agree market value does not appear to suffer. In downtown Toronto, they point out, mixed income and use is already a reality: every corner brings another distinct community. But many find fault with the idea that mixed income communities can work to motivate the poor by introducing them to the habits of the middle class.
"There isn't a child alive that doesn't want a mentor," says proponent Mr. Mammoliti. "And if they don't get the mentors, they act out. I think that's what's been happening in our public housing scheme today. When you create a community of mixed income, you've got everyone living in a community that should live in a community, and those children will look up to people."
That's a pipe dream, says Sean Purdy, a professor of the history of the Americas at the University of Sao Paulo who did his doctorate on Regent Park at Queen's University.
"There's very little evidence that when you mix people that somehow the work, educational and life habits of the more affluent will rub off on those are not so affluent. It's a common sense idea that there's no real evidence for, actually. So I'm very skeptical," Prof. Purdy says.
Of the remaining Don Mount Court residents, once numbering 950, about 100 have formed a Facebook community group devoted to commemorating the near-gone project. With sepia-toned photos and lively discussion groups, they paint a much different portrait of Don Mount Court than the local politicians scrambling to fix it. They remember rowdy basement parties, basketball games, chestnut wars and a local grocer known to practise his golf swing on would-be thieves.
"What a great place to live. Kinda reminds me of Melrose Place," writes former resident TuAnh Chau.
Like many of them, Don Mount's first tenant, Janet Des Roches, is also stubbornly resistant to the redevelopment.
"I've been brought up in this area, and I like it," says Ms. Des Roches, who spent most of her life waitressing in the nearby Ed-win Hotel on Queen Street East.
After the city expropriated her mother's house on Munro Street in the 1960s, Ms. Des Roches got dibs on a new apartment at Don Mount. She chose a corner lot, now just feet away from the construction.
Ms. Des Roches said she opted out of public consultations on the redevelopment. She has no opinion on the mixed-income dream seducing politicians eager to patch up Regent Park, Lawrence Heights and Don Mount. Her concerns are the front yard, basement and privacy of a corner lot she'll likely lose in Rivertowne.
"I like my little house," Ms. Des Roches says. "I don't want to see where I'm going to go, and I don't want to see how we're going to be situated."
zbielski@nationalpost.com
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