Number Saved/Number Lost

14 In principle, we should be able to calculate the number or proportion of heritage properties that have been lost or rescued as a result of determined effort. This, however, presents some difficult problems. Are there objective criteria for what constitutes a heritage property?14 In the 1970s and 1980s, the Canadian Inventory of Historic Building, with the help of local governments and organizations, tried to identify all pre-1914 structures in the country. Even if we accept the dubious proposition that structures erected before 1914 are “heritage” and others are not, the rate of loss would not necessarily tell us how strong has been the resistance against loss, how effective or assertive that resistance has been relative to the level of threat or how proactive have been the efforts to save what remains. Moreover, it is believed that most pre-1914 buildings never were actually identified, and thus comprehensive lists (and acknowledged losses) may be reflective of a high level of local (and even municipal) heritage activism.

15 An obvious problem with according considerable weight to the “number saved” is that such an exercise may give undue credence to preservation by neglect. “Neglect has been the salvation of the North End,” says Robert Morgan, the now-retired history professor who was a principal catalyst in the establishment, in 1966, of the Old Sydney Society.15 At the turn of the 20th century, Sydney underwent a quiet revolution with the coming of the steel plant. Its population grew tenfold, the centre of gravity moved south (farther from the belching behemoth) and the old, established families were overwhelmed by new industrialists and a large, multi-ethnic working class. The history of the old town was, in the words of a 1918 publication, “now known to but very few.”16

16 There the North End sat, in quiet repose, most of the old homes being simply converted to rooming houses and apartments. In a 1980 speech, Morgan observed that the old St. George’s “seemed like a queen whose new subjects had all moved away. She was left among the buildings of the Old Capital with her back to the steel plant.... [H]er little tower and graveyard looked forlorn and alone.”17

17 This is not to overlook the spectacular heritage losses in Sydney and elsewhere in CBRM, many of which are commemorated in widely marketed paintings and prints. The elaborate Moxham Castle, comparable to Toronto’s Casa Loma, was allowed to sit derelict until it finally burned to the ground 40 years ago. Much of the Sydney downtown is scarred by demolitions.18 Beautiful banks and hotels, including the landmark Isle Royale, have been lost. Shopping plazas erased old streetscapes. Although most residents of Sydney have fond memories of the distinctive Art Deco Vogue Theatre, this downtown landmark may be on the verge of demolition.19 In Louisbourg, former mayor Victor Hanham rhymes off the stately waterfront buildings that have been lost in the past twenty years.20

Number Designated/Registered

18 A tangible indicator of the intensity of municipal historic-preservation efforts, and their relative importance in the planning process, may be the number of municipal designations. This should not be taken too far, however, because by this indicator Mississauga would be judged to be dramatically more preservation-oriented than CBRM. The former has 101 individually designated properties, plus 104 structures within the Old Port Credit Village Heritage Conservation District and approximately 65 within the Meadowvale Village Heritage Conservation District. CBRM has only 20 properties designated by the municipality or the province. Mississauga, unlike CBRM, also has an official Heritage Inventory of more than 700 properties. Although Mississauga does not, ultimately, have the authority to prevent demolition of a listed but not designated building, it can request a “heritage impact statement” to fully document the site before fulfilling a demolition request or planning application.

19 However, designations and listings tell only a partial story. In Mississauga, most designations were the product of a relatively short burst of activity. Most of the acknowledged significant heritage buildings remain non-designated and many remain off the Inventory because of the lack of resources for the preparation of basic staff reports providing historical and architectural overviews.21

20 Simply counting designations would not allow for an accounting of the less formal, but potentially effective, methods of heritage planning and politics. In the former Town of Louisbourg, in the mid-1980s, when the Anglican rectory seemed on the verge of demolition, the recently resurrected Louisbourg Heritage Society rallied to save it, winning the sympathy of the mayor and working with the Louisbourg and District Planning and Development Commission. The diocese agreed to donate the building; it was first converted into an art gallery, and then, with the town’s active participation, it was sold to an entrepreneur who has converted it into an elegant bed and breakfast establishment.22

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21 A similar case in Mississauga involved the Kennedy House, a dilapidated century home on Streetsville’s main thoroughfare. In 1997, new owners Atiya and Ghani Ahsan began restoring it, at their own expense, to serve as a multicultural art gallery.23 But in the process they had to mobilize sympathetic citizens to overcome the obstacles to a minor zoning variance to allow the building to be used for purposes other than residential.

22 To this day, neither the Louisbourg Anglican rectory nor the Streetsville Kennedy House have heritage designations. The outcomes (restoration and adaptive reuse) can nevertheless be classed as preservation successes, although it is acknowledged that the presence of so many obstacles might be indicative of a less-than-hospitable policy environment for historic preservation.

Resistance to Demolition

23 Perhaps, then, we should find some method of calculating the likelihood that the municipality will resist heritage demolition—that is, the probability of protest or advocacy from residents or groups, and some efforts by the municipal council and staff to find preservation-oriented solutions. Such calculations are potentially revealing, but making them accurately would be a very trying enterprise.

24 Because development and redevelopment pressures will vary from place to place, the frequency of resistance may have to be expressed as a ratio, in which case we again will need to have some objective assessment of which demolitions should have been resisted. If little has been done to identify and catalogue properties of historic interest, then this exercise could be exceptionally difficult. Furthermore, even if we undertake the said cataloguing ourselves (of existing and lost heritage buildings), we will have to make some allowance for local values and endeavour to immerse ourselves in these. For example, in the Maritimes a 1920s Dutch Colonial Revival house would be considered relatively common and perhaps not especially noteworthy,24 but it would likely be of heritage interest in Mississauga, where it is much less common. In CBRM, a property associated with Sir John George Bourinot, the renowned Canadian expert on matters parliamentary, would probably be significant, as would, in Mississauga, a property with close ties to the firebrand rebel politician William Lyon Mackenzie or one of his nemeses, former Upper Canadian attorney general John Beverley Robinson.

25 Even within the same municipality, the function and significance of a building would be judged differently. A typical Edwardian house in Old Port Credit Village would likely be regarded by neigh-bours as complementing the aesthetic value of the streetscape, and therefore significant, but the same house surrounded by an industrial park would probably not command much notice. In other words, context matters.25

26 It is also possible to conceive of a municipality that is relatively progressive with respect to heritage while seldom fighting last-ditch battles. This may be the result of strong, proactive heritage policies that confront developers and redevelopers as part of the generally understood rules for doing business in the community. The heritage losses may thus actually represent minor concessions in what is actually a substantive and progressive policy environment.

Staff Time/Prominence of Municipal Heritage Committee

27 A more compelling indicator of the prominence of the historic-preservation ethos in municipal governance may be the municipal staff time, as a proportion of all staff time spent on planning, devoted to historic-preservation matters—designation, negotiation, commemoration, education and so on. Likewise, the frequency of meetings and the prominence and level of expertise of members of the heritage committee would seem, prima facie, to be sound indicators that historic preservation enjoys an important place on the municipal agenda.

28 It has already been noted that CBRM’s recent foray into planning for a heritage conservation district has been accompanied by assigning a senior planner to spend considerable time on historic preservation. Mississauga’s staffing reduction coincided with a virtual halt to designations and almost no apparent resistance to demolitions, although in 2005 the City did finally reintroduce a second staff position for heritage conservation matters.

29 In CBRM, for the first time since amalgamation, the Heritage Committee has begun meeting regularly. It now includes among its number feisty historical-society representatives, and is chaired by a councillor who has been generally supportive of a heritage conservation district.26 In Mississauga, beginning in 2004, a more preservationist councillor took the helm of the Heritage Advisory Committee. Although the plans for the Old Port Credit Village heritage district were already well in progress by this time, and despite a controversy in 2005 in which one of the councillors relentlessly opposed a recommendation from City staff and the Heritage Advisory Committee to designate a rare saltbox pioneer homestead in his ward,27 the changing of the guard at the HAC does appear to coincide with some renewed local interest in preservation matters.

30 Ultimately, some effort should be probably expended on developing a defensible scoring system. It would give weight, for example, to the extent to which outside organizations are requested to nominate or appoint members of the municipal heritage committee, and there would be some method for determining the level of knowledge and expertise of those members. Such an investigation may entail one-on-one surveys of members to gauge their familiarity with the planning process, heritage legislation and other potential tools for preservation, such as easements, development agreements, density bonusing, community-improvement zones, property-tax rebates and revolving funds.

The Legislative Framework Hypothesis

32 Perhaps Mississauga and CBRM would be more active on historic preservation if empowered by a stronger provincial legislative framework. Hazel McCallion, Mississauga’s mayor since 1978, has made precisely this argument. Why suffer through the grief and expense of a heritage designation or negotiation if the owner would have the legal authority to demolish in six to nine months?28 A similar calculation or rationalization may apply in CBRM. Why not defer heritage designations to the provincial government, with its permanent demolition-control powers, rather than going through the aggravation merely to institute a delay?

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33 However, such rationalizations may have little to do with the provincial legislative framework and more to do with the municipal officials’ lack of concern for preservation. On April 28, 2005, Bill 60 (An Act to Amend the Ontario Heritage Act) received Royal Assent. Municipalities will now have the authority to deny demolition of heritage-designated buildings, subject to appeal to the Ontario Municipal Board. Four weeks after Royal Assent, the city solicitor provided the Mississauga council with a report summarizing the new legislation. The mayor and councillors were not impressed. They feared that the owners of already-designated properties would raise objections to their existing designations, thus costing the City money and time. Not one member of council expressed support or relief that the City now has new powers to protect architectural heritage and historic sites, streetscapes and neighbourhoods.29

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34 Even while endeavouring, in the pre-Bill 60 days, to deflect blame to the province for demolitions, McCallion did give some indication that she was not especially sympathetic to robust attempts to conserve architectural heritage. In 1989, when one councillor made an impassioned plea to save two threatened and rare “millworkers’ double houses,” the mayor was not very receptive. “I like to put myself in other people’s shoes. I often wonder how we would feel if it was our house that was being preserved. We have to have some sympathy,” she said, referring to the private homeowner who wanted to replace the historic houses with a suburban residence.30 The houses were eventually demolished. Mississauga no longer has any grants to aid with restorations and has not commenced consideration of whether to use its statutory authority to offer property tax rebates to owners of heritage-designated properties who agree to enter into heritage-conservation easements (permanent, contractual covenants).31

The Beauty/Organic Thesis

35 Perhaps some cities are simply more historic, more beautiful and more obviously worthy of preservation than others. Perhaps in such places, stronger policies, processes and movements inevitably will arise. Ninety per cent of Warsaw was destroyed during World War II, after the Nazis promulgated a specific policy to rob the populace of rich architectural heritage integral to Polish national pride and resistance. Clandestinely, members of the resistance took detailed architectural drawings, smuggled them out of the city and hid them in the tombs of monks. After the war, the beautiful city was rebuilt, brick by brick, to look almost exactly as it did before. It was a project that brought together a wide cross-section of inhabitants, notwithstanding political and class differences.32

36 Anthony Tung presents a variation of the beauty thesis. He suggests that cities with strong preservation impulses regard themselves as organic wholes, as living entities.33 On that basis, we might expect that municipalities with scattered, disparate, non-contiguous communities—such as those in Mississauga and CBRM—will be weak with respect to preservation.

37 However, Tung acknowledges that many cities that were, just a short time ago, organic, intertwined wholes have been decimated by ill-advised “renewal” and redevelopment schemes. Cities will often generate strong preservationist impulses because they have been conserved. Scholars who have studied Charleston, South Carolina, one of America’s best-preserved cities, have noted the impact, in the first instance, of a few exceptionally determined individuals, an early historic-zoning ordinance (1931) and relatively weak development pressures. After several decades, and after demonstrable proof of the civic benefits of rescue and restoration, preservation came to be embedded firmly in the political culture and values of the community, such that the preservation movement is now self-perpetuating. Its counsel is sought on virtually all major planning measures; it is at their peril that politicians ignore the preservationists.34

38 With regard to Mississauga’s predecessor municipalities, we might ask why Streetsville apparently was assertive on historic preservation, while Port Credit was not. Both were compact communities with unique and recognizable landmarks. Both were under major development pressures. Why was there intensive preservation activity for several years in the new City of Mississauga, when the municipality’s communities were even more disparate and isolated from each other than they are now? Why is CBRM suddenly now becoming more active?

The Political-Economy Thesis

39 Perhaps preservation becomes a priority only when it can be linked directly to the economic prospects of the city. This would be consistent with Paul Peterson’s thesis in City Limits, a controversial classic in urban studies. Because local governments lack the ability directly to control the movement of goods and people, they almost inevitably will focus on those objectives that are deemed to contribute to the economic growth and development of the city. They will downplay redistributive and socially-progressive functions, observes Peterson. Otherwise, wealthy taxpayers may vote with their feet to avoid the relatively more onerous tax burden. Disadvantaged or needy individuals may be drawn to the city’s generous amenities, thereby further exacerbating the tax burden.35

40 Might the sudden emergence of municipal efforts to preserve the North End of Sydney, despite the absence of direct development pressure on that neighbourhood, be related to the area’s recent discovery by cruise-ship passengers? Is historic preservation coming to be considered integral to the economic future of CBRM?

41 The Old Sydney Society believes that such a calculation has contributed to the new-found prominence of the North End in municipal planning circles.36 The planner assigned to the file, Rick McCready, maintains otherwise. He argues that the local councillor had been urging action on the crime problem in the area just as the Old Sydney Society was making a history presentation at a meeting to consider CBRM’s new official plan. These trajectories converged, and it was agreed by council that a secondary plan should be developed for the North End. The heritage-conservation-district option was thus embedded into a formal process. McCready also insists that the objective is not gentrification. The local planners, he says, would regret it if most of the homes were converted back to single-family dwellings because good planning practice would prefer a denser concentration of residents close to the downtown.37

42 In Mississauga, it could certainly be contended that historic preservation has never been considered integral to economic growth. Since World War II, the municipality has been in the path of major, almost inevitable development. Its prime location— as home to Canada’s largest airport and more expressways than any other city in the country— has been a draw for major corporations. More than 50 of the Fortune 500 companies have their Canadian head offices in Mississauga. Cultivating the “quality of place” (including “historical authenticity”) that many economic development experts, most notably Richard Florida,38 deem to be integral to the future prosperity of cities has thus far been considered neither critical nor urgent in Mississauga.

43 Yet neither the former municipality of Streetsville, nor the first council of the city of Mississauga, which appear to have been very active on heritage matters, justified preservation in economic terms. Perhaps, then, we must also look for the circumstances that cause municipalities not to adhere strictly to Peterson’s thesis. When do “quality-of-life” issues supersede economic-development considerations?

The Non-Corporate Middle-Class Thesis

44 Urban regime theory proposes that local governance tends to be the product of an informal, enduring coalition between a reasonably cohesive group of public and private actors. The tenor and priorities of the local government are determined by the composition of the coalition.

45 Regime theory’s most prominent advocate, American political scientist Clarence Stone, has identified four types of governing coalitions. One of these will usually have historic preservation as an important objective. This “progressive” regime is a coalition of civically active and neighbourhood groups. Representatives of the business community are not prominent—often they are not even present—in this coalition, but the municipality is generally sufficiently affluent to be reasonably assured of its economic stability. Such regimes are uncommon, but where they do arise, Stone suggests, there is a “large noncorporate middle class.”39 Presumably, these are residents with the luxury and inclination to engage in aesthetic, literary and even esoteric pursuits.40

46 Regime theorists have had difficulty identifying why and how regimes form and why they collapse. Our discussion of historic preservation sheds light on this problem. Surely, Mississauga’s noncorporate middle class was no larger as a proportion of the population in the late 1970s than it is now. Indeed, by some accounts, this cohort, admittedly never a majority of the adult population, has been growing steadily—and was growing during what appears to have been a twenty-year decline in historic preservation in Mississauga.41 During this time, the City’s own fiscal capacity—and the luxury of dealing with non-core priorities—increased. For example, between 1992 and 2002, the city council did not increase property taxes. The capital reserve fund, with money coming mostly from development charges, stands at an impressive $260 million.42

47 Similarly, the recent increase in the status enjoyed by historic preservation in CBRM appears not to coincide with any increase in the proportion of residents who could be classified as members of the noncorporate middle class. The overall economy and fiscal realities have not yet improved since the closure of the steel plant and coal mines.43 Stone’s observations thus may be salient in some places, and it may be true that the leading preservationists are drawn from the noncorporate middle class, but his explanations are obviously incomplete. They do not help us to understand the circumstances and considerations that open up municipal governance to the preservationists.

The Permeability of the Political System to the Intellectual and Cultural Classes

48 It is apparent that in both CBRM and Mississauga the leaders of preservation movements have tended to be intellectuals (often university academics) or those who work in the cultural sector, especially arts-related endeavours. Perhaps the terms “non-corporate middle class,” and even Richard Florida’s “creative class” (which includes, for example, innovators in the technology sector), are categories that are too broad. Furthermore, most of the especially active preservation-movement leaders appear not to be associated with the old families. Indeed, it appears that many were not raised in the communities whose history they are trying so hard to preserve.

49 Robert Morgan, past president and founding member of the Old Sydney Society, recalls arriving in Cape Breton in the 1960s to work at the Fortress of Louisbourg and Xavier Junior College (now Cape Breton University). He was struck by the exceptionally old, historically interesting, but generally ignored, old buildings in Sydney. He and a fellow faculty member mobilized students to work on the restoration of the abandoned St. Patrick’s Church (1828), the oldest remaining Roman Catholic church in Cape Breton. It became the first museum of the Old Sydney Society. The municipality was not involved; it simply was assumed that it would have other preoccupations.44

50 Bill O’Shea, historian at the Fortress of Louisbourg, became interested in the history of the nearby 19th-century fishing town where he and his family had taken up residence. The former Ontario resident played a critical role in the Anglican rectory issue mentioned above, served on the pre-amalgamation town council, is one of the driving forces in the Louisbourg Heritage Society and helped to start Louisbourg’s municipal heritage committee.45 In Glace Bay, non-native Cape Bretoner Elke Ibrahim, an energetic arts and culture activist, was at the forefront of the successful effort to save the old town hall (“the Grand Old Lady”) from becoming a parking lot.46

51 In Mississauga, during the heyday of the municipal heritage committee, professors like Anthony Adamson (restoration architecture and planning) and Thomas McIlwraith (cultural geography) were leading the body. After the 1994 restructuring of the committee, no one who was prominent in the cultural or intellectual life of the city was appointed.

52 Although preservation leaders may tend to hail from certain cohorts, perhaps we also have an argument for the idiosyncratic role of individuals. For example, it is widely believed in Ontario that although the groundwork for a stronger Heritage Act had long been in place at the bureaucratic level, it would not have been possible without the personal determination of the Culture Minister, Madeleine Meilleur. She may have championed the cause not primarily because of assertive lobbying from the preservationists, nor because of any firm election promise, but because as a former Ottawa city councillor she had become distressed by the loss of treasured landmarks.47

53 Then again, there do tend to be variations in the extent to which municipal political systems are open to such individuals. In Cape Breton, with the collapse of the coal and steel industries, the population, although still primarily of a working-class background, is coming to perceive that a prosperous and stable future may lie in the knowledge and cultural sectors. New investment, new middle-class/creative-class residents and tourists can be attracted by Cape Breton’s famous scenery and pleasant communities. Courting mega-projects, and the hope that outside corporate investors will be Cape Breton’s salvation, are no longer regarded as imperative or realistic.

54 In recent months, organized residents’ groups have made well-researched presentations to the CBRM council resisting proposals for a strip mine and quarry. Such schemes are described as “part of the past” and as counterproductive to marketing the new, post-industrial Cape Breton. At least several councillors now appear to concur.48 Meanwhile, the local leaders now appear to be especially restive and impatient with regard to the need to clean up or contain the notorious Sydney tar ponds—and regard the cleanup itself as a major likely source of investment and skilled jobs. Federal money has been sought recently not for industrial schemes, but for downtown beautification, including recently completed projects in Glace Bay and North Sydney, and for a major renewal of Sydney’s downtown Wentworth Park.49 Even the once-overlooked “company houses,” simple yet distinctive features on the once-industrial landscapes in several CBRM communities, are getting some notice for their aesthetic and historical qualities.50

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55 A heritage trail system is being planned for the historically vibrant, multicultural, working-class Sydney neighbourhood of Whitney Pier. “We should charge admission to the Pier,” one resident quipped at a 2005 public hearing of Nova Scotia’s Heritage Strategy Task Force.51 Canada’s only African Orthodox Church, a Jewish synagogue (now the Whitney Pier Historical Museum), a Ukrainian Catholic Church and a Polish Roman Catholic Church are among the features of the neighbourhood’s eclectic cultural landscape, though many of the small businesses have closed. But the haze from the steel plant is gone, and the community below is being touted, probably more than ever, as a treasure of cultural geography— and an important attraction. With this new aesthetic and economic orientation, the skills and values of residents who are members of the intellectual and cultural sectors may come to be more prized than ever.

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56 Indeed, even some of the earlier historic-preservation and restoration achievements in Cape Breton can be attributed to economic repositioning. “Although [the fortress of] Louisbourg was widely appreciated for its historical significance, the principal impetus for major site development was socio-economic, not historical or cultural,” writes Terry MacLean, a Sydney native who became a senior historian at the fortress. “Any attempt to understand the scope and the pace of the project must begin with that premise.”52 In the 1950s, with the coal industry appearing to be on the verge of collapse (its life would be prolonged by a series of massive government contributions and interventions), a federally-appointed royal commission looked for alternative job-creation strategies. The “Rand Report” was emphatic in recommending that “beginning not later than in the year 1961, work on a scheme of reconstructing the ruins of the Fortress of Louisbourg as an historic site be commenced….”53

57 The nearby town of Louisbourg did not pay a great deal of attention to the tourists passing through to reach the fortress. The community continued to revolve around the relatively prosperous fishery. This changed dramatically in 1992, with the cod moratorium. The marked increase in unemployment appears to have been a catalyst for beautification efforts, including the restoration of the historic Sydney and Louisburg Railway station, which is now a museum.54 (The corporate name reflects the anglicized spelling “Louisburg.”)

58 Previously, in the absence of widespread economic shock, municipal governance was characterized by labour- or business-dominated councils, where “progressive” was defined in labour “red”—rather than postmodern or tory-radical “green”—terms.55 Progressive meant being pro-union and providing tangible benefits to the working class. In this “dirt means work” environment, the intellectuals were marginal to the life of the community.56 Political involvement was often class- or party-based and took the form of economic protest. As Carol Corbin and Erna MacLeod have observed, in the “we” and “they” system even tourist and cultural events would be put under the control of development agencies, usually constituted by the federal government. The input of the locals was seldom sought or valued.57

59 In Mississauga, the influence of the historic preservationists was in ascendancy during a period of great political fluidity, but not economic crisis. In 1973, the reform candidates toppled a majority of the once-well-entrenched and developer-oriented “old guard.”58 Between 1974 and 1978, the reform and old-guard factions battled constantly on the city council. “It was big-city politics; it was great,” a former reporter told me.59 In this more open political environment, the intellectually and culturally oriented residents could find a place.

60 By 1978, however, both the reform and old-guard factions lay gravely wounded. The latter could not recover from charges of favouritism and corruption, and the former were often characterized as spend-thrift amateurs. Into this vacuum stepped Hazel McCallion, embracing the no-favouritism mantra and administrative overhauls of the reformers, but the frugality and back-to-basics approach of the old guard. One of McCallion’s favourite refrains is, “We run this city like a business!”

61 The self-described “practical” mayor has come to occupy a pre-emptive, overriding position, in place of a governing coalition. Having given the municipality the order, stability and good management it craved, her resulting resounding popularity has made it difficult for effective critics to emerge or for an alternative agenda to find resonance. McCallion, now 85 years old, has faced no serious opponent since the 1982 election. Since 1991, she has mounted not even a token election campaign and has released no election platform. Those with grievances tend to bide their time, waiting for the post-McCallion era.60

62 The governance structure of Mississauga has come largely to reflect the mayor’s priorities—and is characterized by the almost complete absence of intellectuals and members of the cultural sector in any of the prominent roles. Even when McCallion became determined to build a modern Living Arts Centre, she did not recruit leaders from the cultural sector.61

63 Thus, a local political system may become impenetrable to the cultural or intellectual sectors for different reasons—including a political culture or economic orientation that embraces a “red” as opposed to “green” perspective on progressivism, or an unusually strong mayor without a strong preservation ethos. There may of course be in the general population a total absence of residents associated with the intellectual or cultural sectors. As we have seen, however, they need not be present in large numbers to make a political impact when other factors have converged in their favour.