Lofty visions: The return of Harry Stinson
http://www.thestar.com/article/674478
Toronto's failed condo king is rising from the ashes and betting millions the time is right to introduce trendy living to Steeltown
Jul 31, 2009 04:30 AM
TONY WONG
BUSINESS REPORTER
Hamilton–Harry Stinson stands underneath a massive sign stencilled on brick, bearing his name.
"When they first told me about this place, I thought they were joking," Stinson says. "This is pretty weird. Even the street has my name on it."
Stinson's latest project is a former elementary school in downtown Hamilton. Built in 1895, the elegant building is historically designated. And, as fate would have it, it has his name on it.
Stinson doesn't know if the founder of the school, Ebenezer Stinson, is any relation. The Hamilton school board closed the school in March. With the help of private investors, he paid $1.05 million for the building in a deal that closed in June.
Toronto's once visionary condo king is now the would-be condo king of Steeltown, an industrial city that is the eighth largest in Canada.
The Stinson School project is Harry Stinson's chance to rise from the ashes.
After the Star first revealed in 2007 that Stinson had placed his landmark 1 King West hotel and condominium in receivership, things started to unravel pretty quickly.
After a bruising and controversial court battle with theatre impresario and former partner David Mirvish, Stinson relocated to Hamilton last year. He had considered Miami, Montreal and New York.
But in Hamilton he spotted a void. And it seems he is getting some Hamiltonians to buy into his vision.
"Harry's bought a positive new set of eyes to the city, he's got people excited," says Bob Bratina, the councillor for downtown Hamilton. "I think sometimes we suffer from a lack of self-esteem, that we sometimes need someone who sees value in things you might overlook."
No one has personified the fortunes of the Toronto condo market more than Stinson. He was pushing loft living in Toronto before most people knew that living in an industrial building with concrete floors could be cool. He was the first to build a condo hotel in Toronto.
As he charges through the school, scurrying from boiler room to classroom, Stinson cracks a distinctly Dickensian image. He fits in with the Gothic bones of the school, a kind of Tim Burton doll come to life. The excitable developer is pushing the envelope in his new hometown.
For one thing, no one has sold lofts in Hamilton for $600,000. That's the price for the penthouse. But smaller units will start at $250,000. That's still a good bit of change for a city where you can get a century-old home on a big lot for under $300,000.
He envisions 70 lofts and townhomes on the 1.5-acre lot that houses two 30,000-square-foot buildings.
"It's not the price," insists Stinson. "It's the lack of having something unique that people can move to. Most people think Hamilton is still this grimy industrial town. But there is also a huge industry of people in technology and health-care services and in academia."
Stinson admits that, as in Toronto, his ideas have been met with some skepticism.
His name has been associated with failure as much as success. His first idea for building in Hamilton, taking over the Royal Connaught Hotel and turning it into condos, failed to find financing during the credit crunch last year.
"There are always the naysayers, guys who say (Jim) Balsillie will never get a hockey team or Stinson will never build," says Bratina.
"But really, it's great to see people who appreciate what we have. There aren't a lot of guys like Harry who have the experience of developing in tight urban settings. We have urban sprawl because it's a lot easier to buy a farm and put up a subdivision."
Hamilton's downtown is more known for cheque-cashing centres and Tim Hortons' outlets than for trendy boutiques and restaurants. The city wants to change that image.
When Ron Marini, Hamilton's director of downtown and community renewal, lived in the city's core during the 1970s, he remembers "shoulder to shoulder" traffic during lunchtime.
Over the years, the core started to hollow. Manufacturing began to decline, affecting employment in the city. Meanwhile, suburban sprawl became the norm. "It became something of a ghost town," Marini says.
"We don't see intensification as a problem. We see it as an opportunity. Our biggest challenge is to make people feel comfortable walking and living downtown again."
That was the refrain in Toronto when Stinson started the Candy Factory Lofts on Queen St. in the early 1990s. It started a loft revolution that Toronto Life magazine declared one of the "10 moments that profoundly changed life in Toronto."
Hamilton today isn't so different than Toronto 20 years ago, Stinson says.
Some investors in Hamilton have been wary of Stinson's reputation. But the biggest knock against him has been that his reach has often seemed to exceed his grasp. Stinson is also marketing another project, the Hamilton Grand, a 177-suite condo hotel downtown. But nothing is quite as symbolic as the Stinson School.
So far, he seems to at least have the approval of his neighbours. When he mows the vast lawn outside the school, they will frequently come up to him to talk.
"I think he's doing a good thing," says former Torontonian Elizabeth Court, who lives across the street from the school.
Court, whose children used to go to the school, says the area could use some gentrification. She has had her car stolen from her driveway and has found knives on her porch.
Toronto, Court says, may not need Stinson. "But Hamilton sure does."
