Wind whitecapping the inlet-
rain like a whipping string-
Sea-Bus bucking and dipping-
behind us -the Alcazar, dead as a doornail.
Landmark of brick and lumber
soon to be sundered and tumbled
in a rattle of empty rooms
all of the ghosts going down in a heap.
The bar where we tippled and quipped
safe in our roles and phases
in a circus of empty chairs
the clowns are gone with a vanishing giggle.
The jokers we fancied we were
on countless immoderate nights
have followed their antic thirsts
away from this cold and cancelled arena.
Plane shaking down the blow-
raingrey city receding-
yesterday closing its books-
evening Sea-Bus bouncing me home.
Peter Trower, 1984
From its source under the asphalt near Central Park, Still Creek runs West, then South, surfacing briefly in the Renfrew Ravine and again after veering hard East just South of Grandview Highway, where it flows past the Catholic Shrine to St. Jude, the Patron Saint of Hopeless Causes.
It was possible for an adventurous and/or taunted boy to follow the stream through the culvert under Grandview, through the wet and muck and rats nests –so long as it wasn’t swollen with rain runoff and only until the pipe was sealed-off by iron bars as thick as his forearms.
Before flowing into Burnaby Lake, the Brunette River, the Fraser and Georgia Straight, Still Creek takes a meandering route East. A drainage basin that proved accommodating to rail, it attracted industry along a thin strip bounded by Broadway/Lougheed Highway to the North and Grandview/Trans Canada highways on the South. Anchored by Vancouver Technical High School on Slocan, it ends somewhere in the Eastern Mallships.
Until the late seventies, warehouses and heavy manufacture dominated, including Wire Rope and Dominion Bridge –contributors to both the Golden Gate and Lions Gate bridges, and –possibly- producers of barriers to dissuade adventurous and/or taunted children.
It also served an eclectic mix of other, large-scale enterprises: a Seagrams distillery, a drive-in movie theatre, the offices and distribution warehouse for the Liquor Control Board. This is where a visit to Grandtree or the Eaton’s Warehouse would yield a good deal on a piece of furniture to satisfy any upper-proletariat taste, and a night’s excesses could be mitigated by a repast at the Knight & Day.
The LCB remains, as does the odd mechanic, warehouse and idiosyncratic bakery, hobby shop, video rental -for the moment.
Industry is long gone, its infrastructure repurposed to serve the “new economy”. In small part this means media: Dominion Studios, Vancouver Film Studios, Nintendo.
Primarily, it means consumption. Where once metal was braided into rope, the trademarked signs of civilization -Superstore, Canadian (sic) Tire, Costco, PriceSmart, Trev Deely, BMW etc etc etc- peddle goods made elsewhere.
The warehouses are still here, only now they’re twenty stories high and offer lifestyle attitude parcels with prices starting at only $550 per sq. ft. (Building envelope restoration costs not included.)
The Knight & Day stands, quietly defiant even as it slowly drowns in a sea of franchised fare.
January 3, 2011
Cold, but clear and golden.
The remains of the giant Eaton’s Warehouse are limited to a few truck bays on Hebb Avenue and a brick wall on Renfrew Street.
Memory: long-standing but long-vanished giant sign on same brick wall advertising olives -graphic cutaway of jar with five rows of two olives each, all green but for one red olive. Why?
Timothy Eaton’s way station stands transfigured: the Broadway Tech Centre, generic “high tech” offices. Primary appeals advertised as access to Skytrain and cycle path, “corporate visibility” from major traffic arteries, tennis and bocce courts etc. No mention of the proximity of St. Jude’s, despite potential usefulness in seemingly hopeless high-tech conundrums.
Walking East on Hebb, discover latest lease: British Columbia Lottery Corporation, the state-sanctioned vice promotion arm and nominal authority. Three generously proportioned floors atop a large warehouse. Surmise need for warehouse: distribution point for lotto paper supplies, scratch & win tickets and other income redistribution paraphernalia; also, possible locus for money laundering/skimming activities.
Glass front entrance. Collage of over-sized admonitions: CAROUSE RETIRE CHEER FAINT REJOICE HOOT JUMP DANCE RELAX GIVE. Winning? Simply a formality.
Front door. Locked.
Grey-blue plastic cylinder next to entrance: modest prodding causes the device to spin open, revealing number pad and screen requesting PIN.
6-4-9? No dice.
Continue wandering through the half-built, half-occupied campus.
Artificial stream flows South from Broadway near Nootka. Show piece or does it correspond to one of the long lost tributaries of the Still? (Later reference of Vancouver’s Old Streams proves inconclusive.)
Artificial turf tennis court, unfinished. Sole occupant: an impressively-sized dog turd.
Approach a parapet facing East, searching for a sign of the Creek. Impossible: the little stream is lost in a mighty river of concrete.
Vancouver’s Dirty History: A Tour Guide’s Plea
Jessica O’Neill, The Tyee, June 9, 2012
As the days grow longer and (hopefully) drier, a time of year that lines the pockets of my fellow tour guides begins again in Vancouver: Tourist Season. With more than 5 million people expected to visit this spring and summer, the tour buses and sightseeing trollies become a familiar sight on the city’s streets.
Tourism is big business in Vancouver. But what about the stories that tourists don’t hear?
Read the full story.
The Fox News of local property development, Global TV, recently produced this unique mix of obfuscation and boosterism:
Nominally a story of Vancouver’s flagging real estate market it follows a contorted course that ends in a back pocket:
“To describe the beauties of this region will, on some future occasion, be a very grateful task to the pen of a skilled panegyrist.”
“All the consolation we got from the smiling people of Vancouver was: ’You bought that from Steve, did you? Ah-hah, Steve! You hadn’t ought to ha’ bought from Steve. No! Not from Steve!’ And thus did the good Steve cure us of speculating in real estate.”
“Vancouver presents no interest to the casual visitor. It is severely Scotch. Its beauties lie in its surroundings.”
“Between the tycoonery and old party machines on one side and the increasingly vocal proletariat on the other, the mass of Vancouver people are uninterested in politics, domesticated, virtuous, quiet and peculiarly provincial.”
“Nobody in Vancouver buys art … they’re not interested in painting.”
“To me it’s a small town, not a big city. That’s part of it’s appeal. The other part is that it is incomparably beautiful. I can be in Vancouver and still be a nature mystic.”
“The problem of our inability to truly understand the city can be summed up in a sole name: Vancouver. A peaceful Canadian city, which has become the model, in the absence of others, of the more or less correct city, more or less friendly, more or less blah blah blah”.