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From the Globe, Toronto Section:
VOTESMART / DEVELOPMENT
Growing pains
THE QUESTION: Can tall towers and protective homeowners co-exist? JOHN LORINC investigates how the city can end the development wars -- and plan consistently for its future
JOHN LORINC
Special to The Globe and Mail
It was an almost surreal moment. At the final session of city council last month, Toronto's local politicians took turns energetically denouncing a development slated for a piece of land on Avenue Road, north of Lawrence.
A visitor from another planet might have concluded that some rapacious industrialist wanted to erect an abattoir in leafy North Toronto.
In fact, a large developer, RioCan, was proposing to put up a stylish condominium building on a site that has long been dominated by a few struggling big box stores and an unsightly parking lot. The 80-to-100-unit structure would rise to eight storeys, have retail space at street level and step down to six floors where it abuts the adjacent neighbourhood.
For years, city planners have been pushing for precisely such mid-rise European-style developments. Moreover, the city's official plan, which finally came into effect this past July after years of winding through the approvals process, calls for this sort of development as the best way to accommodate the estimated 600,000 new residents expected to settle in the city over the next three decades.
Yet for all that, council shot down the application by a vote of 31 to 5. But RioCan CEO Edward Sonshine says his firm thought their project meshed nicely with the vision set out in the official plan. "All of a sudden," he recalls, "we became the destroyer of a neighbourhood."
Residents groups were elated. But other observers were puzzled by the apparent contradiction: After all, this is the same council that rubber-stamped a 45-storey hotel tower in the middle of Yorkville and did little to effectively oppose three massive condo projects proposed for the Queen West Triangle, near Dufferin Street. Such mixed messages illustrate that the City of Toronto is still a long way from coming to terms with its own plans for the way future growth will be managed.
Mayor David Miller swept to office in 2003 partly on a promise to protect residential neighbourhoods, but development pressure has built steadily since then, in large measure because of the robust economy. The trendy condos proposed for the Queen West Triangle have become this election's version of the Minto controversy (which in 2003 pitted North Toronto residents against a massive high-rise development near the Eglinton subway station). Meanwhile, other massive projects are leaving residents angry with the development industry but also disillusioned that their local politicians have failed to find a better way to manage the city's breakneck growth.
The city's new official plan calls for greater density -- with transit-friendly low-rise development along so-called "avenues," or major arterial roads like St. Clair West and the Queensway, and high-rises concentrated in several downtown districts and around subway stops. Meanwhile, the province has pressed ahead with a rash of anti-sprawl reforms that promote intensification, transit and changes to the Ontario Municipal Board. But amid all the changes, council struggles to implement these policies: Specific plans for development frequently provoke confrontation between residents' groups (and their councillors) and developers (with support from the OMB).
Veterans of Toronto's development wars note that the post-amalgamation city still hasn't found a way to engage its residents in the task of connecting the grand vision of the new official plan with the particular realities of individual neighbourhoods.
Some development watchdogs are pleased with the way council has juggled these complex issues. "Miller promised to pay closer attention to residents and neighbourhoods," says George Milbrandt, co-chair of the Federation of North Toronto Residents Associations, which coalesced to battle the massive Minto tower at Yonge and Eglinton and was a party to the negotiated settlement over the official plan. Compared to former mayor Mel Lastman, Mr. Milbrandt says, "he is a considerable improvement."
But other neighbourhoods are much less sanguine. Indeed, the general sense of disquiet has fuelled several high-profile ward-level campaigns by planning reformers, who charge that council has lost its ability to do community planning.
Indeed, in the high-profile development battle over the Queen West Triangle, many downtown residents insist that they don't oppose more density, but are appalled that older historic neighbourhoods could be swamped by enormous buildings that have little in common with their surroundings.
Even developers are aghast at the scale of the proposal: "I don't think there should be very high-rise buildings on Queen West," says Murray Goldman, president of the Goldman Group. "Those towers are misplaced."
Likewise, Sandra Shaul, a member of the Annex Residents Association -- which succeeded in shooting down a bid by the Royal Ontario Museum to erect a condo tower at the south end of its property -- is unhappy with the project's deviations from the official plan. "You can't plan a city site by site," she says.
Mr. Miller, who feels tall buildings must be a part of Toronto's future, says the criticism is "very unfair" and points to the fact that planners in recent years were operating under extremely difficult circumstances -- a lack of funding, coupled with a mishmash of pre-amalgamation planning documents that development lawyers exploit to get their way at the Ontario Municipal Board.
Arguing that compromise remains a viable alternative to legal conflict, the mayor points to a deal worked out between Annex residents and a developer of a high-rise condo building going up at Bloor and Bedford as a prime example of how neighbourhoods and builders can find common ground.
Yet Margie Zeidler, who has refurbished the Gladstone Hotel and is part of a local network of artists, residents and businesses fighting the Queen West towers, says she is perplexed by the fact that the city's official plans for the area were very precise about the preservation of historic streetscapes and the mix of uses, as well as the need for increased density.
"It was clear what it said in the plan -- but the developers are going for everything," she says, referring to a proposed development that now includes 26-storey condo towers on a historic retail strip dominated by galleries and low-slung industrial buildings. "The fact that we're fighting this battle is stupid."
Part of the story involves the instincts of the local councillor. A savvy politician can whip up local opposition or work out a compromise, as was the case with One Bedford, which was managed closely by former Trinity-Spadina councillor Olivia Chow.
In the case of the Queen West Triangle, however, Ms. Zeidler says the local councillor, Adam Giambrone, is "young and inexperienced" and wasn't able to get the planners, the neighbourhood and the residents to come to terms.
As for the RioCan project on Avenue Road, Ms. Stintz, the area councillor, was elected in 2003 by North Toronto homeowners infuriated by her predecessor's support for the Minto towers. Mr. Sonshine says Ms. Stintz was "initially supportive" during private meetings in late 2004, but since changed her stance. She denies it.
Such mudslinging underscores the frustration that accompanies so much development activity in the city. In affluent communities, neighbours turn on one another over the size and scope of tear-downs, where older homes are replaced with mega-mansions. Planners are chronically frustrated by what they see as the knee-jerk oppositionalism of affluent homeowners, as well as the routine accusations that they are in the pay of the developers. Builders like Mr. Goldman know that each new development conflagration makes the next project approval that much tougher. And residents in desirable neighbourhoods often feel they're having big projects rammed down their throats, with little meaningful consultation.
"There's not a sense that the city has a plan," says former Toronto mayor David Crombie, president of the Canadian Urban Institute. "You can always get the local 'againststers.' The public needs to feel that its voice is strong and there's an excitement about the possibilities."
In recent years, the city has attempted to break this logjam by commissioning "avenue studies" on sections of underdeveloped arterial roads considered to be candidates for intensification. These include Kingston Road and an eastern section of the Danforth dominated by used-car lots.
These studies, often led by planning consultants, involve a series of public meetings and charrettes, during which residents, local businesses and developers seek to imagine how an area could develop over the long term. The resulting report lays out the necessary zoning, urban design and infrastructure changes needed to give teeth to these locally authored vision statements.
AoD
VOTESMART / DEVELOPMENT
Growing pains
THE QUESTION: Can tall towers and protective homeowners co-exist? JOHN LORINC investigates how the city can end the development wars -- and plan consistently for its future
JOHN LORINC
Special to The Globe and Mail
It was an almost surreal moment. At the final session of city council last month, Toronto's local politicians took turns energetically denouncing a development slated for a piece of land on Avenue Road, north of Lawrence.
A visitor from another planet might have concluded that some rapacious industrialist wanted to erect an abattoir in leafy North Toronto.
In fact, a large developer, RioCan, was proposing to put up a stylish condominium building on a site that has long been dominated by a few struggling big box stores and an unsightly parking lot. The 80-to-100-unit structure would rise to eight storeys, have retail space at street level and step down to six floors where it abuts the adjacent neighbourhood.
For years, city planners have been pushing for precisely such mid-rise European-style developments. Moreover, the city's official plan, which finally came into effect this past July after years of winding through the approvals process, calls for this sort of development as the best way to accommodate the estimated 600,000 new residents expected to settle in the city over the next three decades.
Yet for all that, council shot down the application by a vote of 31 to 5. But RioCan CEO Edward Sonshine says his firm thought their project meshed nicely with the vision set out in the official plan. "All of a sudden," he recalls, "we became the destroyer of a neighbourhood."
Residents groups were elated. But other observers were puzzled by the apparent contradiction: After all, this is the same council that rubber-stamped a 45-storey hotel tower in the middle of Yorkville and did little to effectively oppose three massive condo projects proposed for the Queen West Triangle, near Dufferin Street. Such mixed messages illustrate that the City of Toronto is still a long way from coming to terms with its own plans for the way future growth will be managed.
Mayor David Miller swept to office in 2003 partly on a promise to protect residential neighbourhoods, but development pressure has built steadily since then, in large measure because of the robust economy. The trendy condos proposed for the Queen West Triangle have become this election's version of the Minto controversy (which in 2003 pitted North Toronto residents against a massive high-rise development near the Eglinton subway station). Meanwhile, other massive projects are leaving residents angry with the development industry but also disillusioned that their local politicians have failed to find a better way to manage the city's breakneck growth.
The city's new official plan calls for greater density -- with transit-friendly low-rise development along so-called "avenues," or major arterial roads like St. Clair West and the Queensway, and high-rises concentrated in several downtown districts and around subway stops. Meanwhile, the province has pressed ahead with a rash of anti-sprawl reforms that promote intensification, transit and changes to the Ontario Municipal Board. But amid all the changes, council struggles to implement these policies: Specific plans for development frequently provoke confrontation between residents' groups (and their councillors) and developers (with support from the OMB).
Veterans of Toronto's development wars note that the post-amalgamation city still hasn't found a way to engage its residents in the task of connecting the grand vision of the new official plan with the particular realities of individual neighbourhoods.
Some development watchdogs are pleased with the way council has juggled these complex issues. "Miller promised to pay closer attention to residents and neighbourhoods," says George Milbrandt, co-chair of the Federation of North Toronto Residents Associations, which coalesced to battle the massive Minto tower at Yonge and Eglinton and was a party to the negotiated settlement over the official plan. Compared to former mayor Mel Lastman, Mr. Milbrandt says, "he is a considerable improvement."
But other neighbourhoods are much less sanguine. Indeed, the general sense of disquiet has fuelled several high-profile ward-level campaigns by planning reformers, who charge that council has lost its ability to do community planning.
Indeed, in the high-profile development battle over the Queen West Triangle, many downtown residents insist that they don't oppose more density, but are appalled that older historic neighbourhoods could be swamped by enormous buildings that have little in common with their surroundings.
Even developers are aghast at the scale of the proposal: "I don't think there should be very high-rise buildings on Queen West," says Murray Goldman, president of the Goldman Group. "Those towers are misplaced."
Likewise, Sandra Shaul, a member of the Annex Residents Association -- which succeeded in shooting down a bid by the Royal Ontario Museum to erect a condo tower at the south end of its property -- is unhappy with the project's deviations from the official plan. "You can't plan a city site by site," she says.
Mr. Miller, who feels tall buildings must be a part of Toronto's future, says the criticism is "very unfair" and points to the fact that planners in recent years were operating under extremely difficult circumstances -- a lack of funding, coupled with a mishmash of pre-amalgamation planning documents that development lawyers exploit to get their way at the Ontario Municipal Board.
Arguing that compromise remains a viable alternative to legal conflict, the mayor points to a deal worked out between Annex residents and a developer of a high-rise condo building going up at Bloor and Bedford as a prime example of how neighbourhoods and builders can find common ground.
Yet Margie Zeidler, who has refurbished the Gladstone Hotel and is part of a local network of artists, residents and businesses fighting the Queen West towers, says she is perplexed by the fact that the city's official plans for the area were very precise about the preservation of historic streetscapes and the mix of uses, as well as the need for increased density.
"It was clear what it said in the plan -- but the developers are going for everything," she says, referring to a proposed development that now includes 26-storey condo towers on a historic retail strip dominated by galleries and low-slung industrial buildings. "The fact that we're fighting this battle is stupid."
Part of the story involves the instincts of the local councillor. A savvy politician can whip up local opposition or work out a compromise, as was the case with One Bedford, which was managed closely by former Trinity-Spadina councillor Olivia Chow.
In the case of the Queen West Triangle, however, Ms. Zeidler says the local councillor, Adam Giambrone, is "young and inexperienced" and wasn't able to get the planners, the neighbourhood and the residents to come to terms.
As for the RioCan project on Avenue Road, Ms. Stintz, the area councillor, was elected in 2003 by North Toronto homeowners infuriated by her predecessor's support for the Minto towers. Mr. Sonshine says Ms. Stintz was "initially supportive" during private meetings in late 2004, but since changed her stance. She denies it.
Such mudslinging underscores the frustration that accompanies so much development activity in the city. In affluent communities, neighbours turn on one another over the size and scope of tear-downs, where older homes are replaced with mega-mansions. Planners are chronically frustrated by what they see as the knee-jerk oppositionalism of affluent homeowners, as well as the routine accusations that they are in the pay of the developers. Builders like Mr. Goldman know that each new development conflagration makes the next project approval that much tougher. And residents in desirable neighbourhoods often feel they're having big projects rammed down their throats, with little meaningful consultation.
"There's not a sense that the city has a plan," says former Toronto mayor David Crombie, president of the Canadian Urban Institute. "You can always get the local 'againststers.' The public needs to feel that its voice is strong and there's an excitement about the possibilities."
In recent years, the city has attempted to break this logjam by commissioning "avenue studies" on sections of underdeveloped arterial roads considered to be candidates for intensification. These include Kingston Road and an eastern section of the Danforth dominated by used-car lots.
These studies, often led by planning consultants, involve a series of public meetings and charrettes, during which residents, local businesses and developers seek to imagine how an area could develop over the long term. The resulting report lays out the necessary zoning, urban design and infrastructure changes needed to give teeth to these locally authored vision statements.
AoD