Debates about heritage preservation can be so tiresome. That’s not because they’re boring. They’re actually very important. It’s just that the end is always so predictable, at least up here in the Big Smoke. We end up losing.
The latest installment gripping the city over the Sam The Record Man sign reminds me of the old Bruce Cockburn tune about trees falling in the forest, and if anybody hears when they do. What about if a tree falls in the city?
Weird segue, I know, but the Sam’s storm can’t truly be understood without flashing back to the flood, Hazel-geddon, whatever you want to call it, that knocked out Toronto earlier this summer. And with it, a whack of trees, including the famous “Toronto Tree” in front of the Alexander Muir cottage on Laing. The silver maple is said to have inspired the late poet to write The Maple Leaf Forever. It’s also the only tree in the city given an historical designation.
Is a tree part of our heritage? Is a neon sign?
Heritage staff years ago gathered seeds from the famous arbor and grew saplings so that a true offshoot could be planted in its place when its inevitable demise came. Too bad the city hasn’t used the same foresight when it comes to preserving its other roots, the ones made of bricks and mortar.
That’s a trickier proposition here, given the prevailing wisdom that heritage devalues property. Condo developers are slowly coming around to a different way of thinking on that, which usually means attaching glass boxes or saving the facades of our architectural landmarks.
With few exceptions, Toronto has a woeful record when it comes to heritage preservation. There’s a graveyard in Scarborough full of the remnants of some of our most significant landmarks. It’s called the Guild Inn Park and Gardens. Irony of ironies, it too has been the focus of another heritage mess for more than a decade.
And so to the recent finger pointing, hand wringing, and backbiting over the Sam’s sign.
The city has decided to let Ryerson University out of an agreement it signed back in 2008 to preserve the giant neon lights of the former record store somewhere on the site of the student learning centre its currently building at Yonge and Gould.
That news led to much collective soul-searching and talk of the importance of the iconic record store to the Canadian music scene. Arguably, Sam’s contribution to the street life at the centre of the city at the centre of the universe was just as significant.
To those old enough to remember, and most Ryerson students aren’t, Sam’s was an unofficial gathering place before there was Dundas Square. It anchored the corner where street vendors sold their wares and the cement chess tables, since moved to Nathan Phillips, attracted some of the most interesting street urchins you’ll never want to meet.
Still, I can’t seem to get as exercised as other commentators about the sign.
Sitting right there across the street from the old Sam’s is the empty lot where the historic William Reynolds Block used to stand. The circa-1888 jewel was a hotel for a time. And one of the last remaining examples of Second Empire and Romanesque Revival architecture left on Yonge.
But the city moved too late to give it an historical designation – only after a portion of the north wall collapsed in 2010 and the owners applied for a demolition permit. A suspicious arson finally killed the landmark in 2011. It’s a recurring theme in Toronto heritage: demolition by neglect.
But as heritage crimes go, it isn’t the worse the city’s seen. There have been a few takedowns of important landmarks in broad daylight. Until recently, a loophole in heritage regulations allowed demo permits to be issued for commercial properties. See 81 Wellesley.
Of course, Sam’s should be saved. Perhaps the AGO can free up some wall room. Better still, why not a public space to display all the city’s neon artistry? There are other examples of marquees worth saving. But I don’t hear anyone in officialdom, despite the media outcry, talking about those as viable options.
Much criticism has been leveled at Ryerson, which probably should have known better than to commit to saving the sign. But is it really Ryerson’s responsibility to preserve the Sniderman family legacy?
Lost in the condemnation has been the fact the Sniderman family actually opposed the city’s efforts to give the building an historical designation and by extension, protect the sign. That was in 2008, when the sale of the building to Ryerson was imminent. Another one of those heritage-is-no-good-for-property-values deals?
The council motion that gave rise to the idea of a designation, and tabled by then councillor Kyle Rae, references the “great deal of public and media interest in the protection of the sign.” Indeed. It was 2007 and all things public spacey was the rage. Blame the Facebook generation.
Ryerson has since floated plans for a memorial: a replica of the Sam’s sign on a plaque imbedded in the sidewalk outside where the record store once stood. FWIW, I think it could work.
The university also committed to keeping the sign in storage until other “preservation opportunities” are explored. It’s not clear what those might be. The university has given the city two years to figure it out. After that, Ryerson says it will give the city 60 days notice of any plans to remove the sign from storage.
Sounds vaguely like an ultimatum.
enzom@nowtoronto.com |@enzodimatteo
