Every Place Has a Story

The Vancouver Aquariums

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The Vancouver Aquarium opened on June 15, 1976. Before that there were two other locations at English Bay and Hastings Park.

First Vancouver Aquarium was inside a fisheries building at Hastings Park. VPL photo #21350, 1922
Hastings Park:

The first Vancouver Aquarium opened in Hastings Park around 1913. I stumbled over this while on Murray Maisey’s excellent blog Vancouver as it Was. According to a Vancouver Daily World article from 1910 that Murray found, it would not be: “a dinky little pool with some tame goldfish swimming leisurely around, but a real concrete aquarium with a glass front and all the fixings big enough to keep sharks.” By 1941, the aquarium was gone, its former digs renamed the museum building, and it became the first home of the Edward and Mary Lipsett collection. The collection was part of a display at the PNE that year and has been with the Museum of Vancouver at Vanier Park since 1971.

CVA 586-4568, 1946
English Bay:

The second aquarium opened in the English Bay Bathhouse in 1939. This was totally confusing to me until I found the Vancouver Archives photo (above) that showed the two early bathhouses together—the concrete one left of frame, housed the Aquarium just east of Gilford Street and was demolished in 1964. Our current art deco one is up the beach right of frame.

This lovely wooden bathhouse opened in 1906 and was demolished in 1931 when it was replaced by our current one. CVA 447-18, 1919

A guy called Ivar Haglund, who already operated an aquarium in Seattle, applied and received permission to open a Vancouver version in 6,000 square feet of bathhouse, down the stone stairs and just below the sidewalk. The deal was it would be a 10-year lease and the Parks Board would get 7 percent of the gross takings in the first year and 10 percent after that. Must have seemed like money from heaven in 1939.

English Bay Bathhouse that would eventually house the second aquarium is shown near the Sylvia Hotel ca.1914 CVA Be P144.2
Oscar and Oliver:

Ivar moved in “over 100 varieties of sea life” including minnows, smelts, skate, clams and crabs.” The star attraction were some seals and a couple of octopus named Oscar and Oliver (that were quietly replaced with other lookalikes after they repeatedly failed to survive in captivity). In 1966, a former aquarium cashier told a Vancouver Sun reporter that “the problem wasn’t obtaining the aquatic life, but simply keeping it alive.”

Nope, this was our second. Plaque just below Morton Park in 1986. CVA 775.175

Ivar’s Aquarium closed in 1956, when our current one opened. I found this Vancouver Archives photo of the plaque taken in 1986 and situated just across from Morton Park. Have no idea if it’s still there.

  • With special thanks to Murray Maisey and Neil Whaley
Related:

© All rights reserved. Unless otherwise indicated, all blog content copyright Eve Lazarus.

Kits Point and the Summer of ‘23

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By Michael Kluckner

Michael Kluckner is a writer and artist with a list of books that includes Vanishing Vancouver and Toshiko. His most recent book is a graphic biography called Julia. He is the president of the Vancouver Historical Society and chair of the city’s Heritage Commission.

Summertime, traffic jams, and the changing city are caught in a set of previously unpublished photos taken from the front porch of a Kits Point house in 1923.

In 1923, Ogden was a corduroy road. The parkland in the background at Ogden and Maple Street which had been popular as an informal camping area in the early 1900s, was bought for the City by retired jeweller Harvey Hadden in 1928. I was given this photograph (above) a dozen years ago by Anne Terriss, who lived with her architect husband Kenneth at 1970 Ogden Avenue, and published it in Vancouver Remembered in 2006.

I was intrigued by the number of families who arrived by car rather than by the streetcar that serviced the beach from a line a few blocks away near Cornwall Avenue. Also, I noted the number of cars parked in the sun with torn-up brush covering their tires to stop the rubber from cracking in the heat.

As it turned out, there were two other photographs taken in 1923 from the front porch of 1982 Ogden, probably by a member of the Bell family. (Photos courtesy of Shirley Wheatcroft, who lives there today.) The photo (below) shows the view northward of the West End and its English Bay waterfront with the Sylvia Hotel visible near the left edge.

Anne and Ken Terriss were long-time members of the Kitsilano community and were part of the generation of volunteers and patrons who created the theatre and arts scene in Vancouver in the 1950s and 1960s. Anne was one of the handful of people in Kitsilano in the 1960s and early 1970s with a good camera and an eye for photographing the passing parade, and freely gave her photographs for publication to the Around Kitsilano community newspaper and, later, to me.

Visible on the right-hand side of the above photo, are porch posts from a cottage, actually one of three BC Mills Model J prefab cottages that faced Yew Street. At the time, this corner was part of a dense little beach community—on a 100-foot-square lot, there stood the apartment building, the three BC Mills cottages facing Yew Street, plus two more that faced onto the lane! Anne recalled that a private lending library charging 10 cents a book operated from one of the cottages.

The strategic corner tenant of the apartment building has been a Starbucks for many recent years.

Courtesy Hal Kalman, Exploring Vancouver, 1978 (p. 198)

Ken Terriss was an architect with a deft touch who made most of his living working independently with small residential commissions. He designed his own house on Ogden in 1971 and fitted it into the vintage streetscape. In Exploring Vancouver, Hal Kalman described the house as “exuberantly imaginative” and noted that the “angle of the plan exploits the spectacular mountain views.” “Despite the house’s explicit modernity,” he wrote, “it respects the size and scale of its older neighbours.” The house next door in the photo was one of the five “show homes” built by the CPR in 1909 to entice settlers to the area.

Ken and Anne’s house was torn down and replaced by an even more modern house—the kind of glassy box that has become the current style du jour on Kits Point, which is apparently the most expensive “detached house” real estate per square foot in Vancouver.

For more on Kitsilano see: The Kitsilano Laneway House

Saving History: the autographed lights from the Orpheum Theatre

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A couple of weeks ago Bill Allman, Tom Carter and I were sipping martinis and discussing bits of history that have been saved from the dumpster. The subject of the rescued lights from the Orpheum Theatre came up, and next thing he knew, Bill had agreed to write this blog.

By Bill Allman

Deep in a haunted basement on West Cordova, below Vancouver curio shop, Salmagundi West, lay a collection of vintage stage lights. I blew the dust off one marked TUTS (for

Tom Carter and Bill Allman, 2017

Theatre Under the Stars) and marveled at the antique design. “There are more.” said my friend – theatre historian and painter extraordinaire, Tom Carter. “Where?” I asked. “The Orpheum. A whole collection. All signed by different stars.”

I let out a low whistle. We emerged from the cavernous cellar, went to the Sylvia Hotel for a drink (or three), and decided that we HAD to see the Orpheum’s treasure trove.

Tom and I were organizing a gala fundraiser and auction for the Friends of the Vancouver Archives to benefit the Hugh Pickett Collection. But that’s another story. This one is about lights – stage lights that had illuminated shows for hundreds of thousands of people.

I am fascinated by objects from great performances by famous people. “Screen used” props, and dog-eared shooting scripts are the only ones I care about; likewise, any piece of stage memorabilia with a genuine connection to a gifted artist. So, when we got access to the Orpheum’s cache of autographed lights, AND a very generous donation from the B.C. Entertainment Hall of Fame of three of those lights for our auction, we were in seventh heaven.

Three lights went up for auction at the Hugh Pickett Gala in November 2017.   Courtesy Christina Potter

There we were, crouched in a room in the Orpheum hidden from public view and illuminated only by a flickering Radio Shack strobe light bouncing off the walls and the tinsel curtain that covered the racks of antique Leko lights. As quickly as we could read the names, we’d call them out with schoolyard excitement. “Tina Turner!”, “Michael Buble!”, “Ray Charles!”. Then we found the three we wanted for the auction – artists that Hugh had presented at one time or another: “Tony Bennett!”, “Victor Borge!”, “And here’s a friend of mine – Jeff Hyslop!”

A light signed by Tony Bennett after a performance at the Orpheum. Courtesy Jason Vanderhill

The lights had almost been lost to time and the dumpster. Another near-tragedy of Vancouver’s urge to purge its past. But eyes that were keen and hearts that long to preserve and celebrate our city’s culture had intervened. The three lights that sold went to homes where their rich history would be appreciated. And the remainder? They rest in a secret room in a famous theatre. And the day will come when they are displayed and perhaps even researched by top people.

Who?

Top people.

Bill Allman is a “recovering lawyer” and instructor of Entertainment Law at UBC. Bill has been a theatre manager (the Vogue), president of Theatre Under the Stars, and a concert promoter and theatre producer through his company, Famous Artists Limited. He is no longer willing to move your piano.

 

The Missing Elevator Operators of Vancouver

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It was common in the 1970s to get in an elevator with an operator at buildings such as Woodwards and the Bay. Where did they go?

Elevator operators
Operators in the Marine Buildings. CVA 677-915, ca.1972
By Angus McIntyre

“Going up, she said,” is the opening line in the 1970’s pop song Heaven on the 7th Floor about a tryst between a female elevator operator and a male passenger. At that time, you could ride on some 40 elevators in Vancouver that were operated by men and women. Vancouver City Hall, the Hotel Vancouver and all the department stores had elevator operators in the early 1970s. Most large American cities had already automated most of their lifts, but Vancouver did not start in earnest until later.

Elevator operators in Vancouver
The last day of manually operated elevators for Woodwards. Angus McIntyre photo, January 4, 1975
The History:

My interest in both horizontal and vertical movement of people started at an early age, and I was always fascinated with electric streetcars and trolleybuses. We lived in Windsor, Ontario, in the 1950s, and visits to Hudson’s, Detroit’s huge department store, were always a treat. There were dozens of elevators, all run by uniformed staff with white gloves, with a senior operator known as a “Starter” to keep things moving. In 1958 our family moved to Geelong, a city near Melbourne, Australia. One of the department stores had a manual elevator, and I became friends with the operator. I was in grade 7, and would sometimes visit after school. She showed me the mechanics of the lift, and how it all worked.

Vancouver's elevator operators
Eaton’s at Hastings and Richards Streets. Angus McIntyre photo early 1970s
Elevator operators of Vancouver:

Our family moved to Vancouver in 1965, and soon I found many buildings with elevator operators. Woodward’s on Hastings Street had a set of manual elevators in the centre of the store. The Starter stood at an information booth on the main concourse near the lifts, and she had a set of castanets. When she saw that a car was full, she would signal the operator with a “clack-clack”, the gate would slide across and the doors would close. The sound could be heard above the busiest crowds on $1.49 Day. Since there were windows in the doors, you could see all the people inside as the car ascended.

Vancouver Elevator operators
BC Electric Building, 425 Carrall Street. Angus McIntyre photo, early 1970s

The old B.C. Electric Building on Carrall Street had elevators that ran on 600 volts Direct Current, sourced from the trolleybus system. About a dozen downtown buildings were wired into the trolley system, so if there were a trolley power failure people would be stuck in the elevators. The last building to use such power was the Sylvia Hotel, converted in the 1980s.

Vancouver's elevator operators
Woodward’s. Angus McIntyre photo, early 1970s

There may be a few isolated manual elevators in Vancouver now, most likely for freight rather than people. New high-rise buildings often have the exterior construction elevator manually operated. A large downtown bank still requires an operator to take you to the safety deposit vault.

Vancouver's elevator operators
The Bay, Georgia and Granville. Angus McIntyre photo, early 1970s

If you want to see a large building with elevator operators today, you can visit Seattle’s iconic Smith Tower.

Vancouver Elevator operators
Eatons at Hastings and Richards Streets. Angus McIntyre photo, Early 1970s

© All rights reserved. Unless otherwise indicated, all blog content copyright Eve Lazarus.

The Sylvia Hotel turns 100

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In 1954 the Sylvia Hotel had the first licensed lounge in Vancouver
The Sylvia Hotel, built in 1913 and owned by the same family since 1960

From Vancouver Exposed: Searching for the City’s Hidden History

Every year Ross Dyck, general manager of the Sylvia Hotel opens about 600 handwritten letters from fans of Mister Got to Go, mostly kids in Grades one and two. And every year he personally answers every one of them.

Dyck has worked in the hotel industry for the past 25 years, before that he taught drama and stage craft to high school kids.

The two Mr. Got to Go books about a cat that moved into the Sylvia Hotel, are so popular he says, that it’s not uncommon to stumble across a bus load of little tykes in the hotel lobby enroute to the Vancouver Aquarium.

“They force the bus driver to stop here so they can come in and find the cat,” he says. “Course the cat hasn’t been around for about 12 years, but we love the fact they still come.”

The first book, Mister Got to Go: the cat that wouldn't leave was published in 1995
A third book in the Mr. Got to Go series is due out in the fall

Dyck is likely the only hotel boss who would say that—but the Sylvia Hotel that celebrates its 100th anniversary this year is a special kind of hotel.

“When I first got here I was horrified. I’d walk into the lobby at 5:30 am and I’d see people walking around in their housecoats and slippers,” he says. “But I can’t think of any other hotel in Vancouver that can say that.”

Last year the Sylvia hosted a fifth generation wedding. The first family member was married there in 1913.

A woman in her 90s came to stay at the hotel for a night. Her mother had stayed at the Sylvia years ago and she showed Dyck the invoice. In those days, two nights accommodation, two breakfasts, and seven phone calls came to $7.14. When the woman checked out the next morning, Dyck charged her $7.14.

The same family has booked room 801, the same room that once housed the Dine in the Sky restaurant–for a month in the summer every year since 1990.

Over the years the hotel has hosted people like Pierre Trudeau and Errol Flynn. Like a good hotel manager, Dyck doesn’t like to name his famous guests, but he’s comfortable telling me that singer songwriters Jane Siberry and Jennifer Warnes are both regulars.

The Sylvia Hotel received Heritage Designation in 1975. Six years before the Englesea Lodge (seen in the photo below) burned to the ground.

Dyck, who likens his job to that of mayor of a small town, says that the best part of his job is that in the five years he has worked at the Sylvia he’s never had the same two days in a row.

The Sylvia, named after the original owner's daughter, was an apartment building until 1936
The Sylvia Hotel was designed by William P. White, the Seattle architect who designed the Englesea Lodge (at the far left) and the Del Mar Hotel on Hamilton Street.

The Life and Death of the Englesea Lodge (1911-1981)

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Englesea Lodge fire
Englesea Lodge burned to the ground on February 1, 1981. Michael Cox photo

From Vancouver Exposed: Searching for the City’s Hidden History

On Sunday February 1, 1981 shortly before 9:00 a.m., George Wright, a 70-something caretaker was working at the Englesea Lodge when he spotted fire coming from the building’s basement storage area.

“There was a big boom and the fire rushed out at me. It threw me back against the wall,” he told a reporter. Wright barely managed to escape through the rear basement door, but flames were already tearing up through two light shafts and up the elevator shaft and spreading through the floors of the seven-storey apartment building.

Englesea Lodge fire
February 1, 1981. Michael Cox photo

Former Vancouver Fire Department Captain Steve Webb was one of 90 firefighters called out that day to fight the fire with the help of an aerial ladder and 13 trucks. There’s no doubt in his mind that it was arson.

“The fire was not only obviously set in the basement next to the elevator shaft, but the fire ‘operations and command’ was also suspicious to us firefighters. The higher-ups wanted it to burn,” he told me this week. “Soon as we had a good grip on the seat of the fire, we were called out and the fire was allowed to rekindle and spread.”

Englesea Lodge fire
Michael Cox photo, 1981

The fire left a smoke-blackened, gutted building just two days before Vancouver City Council was scheduled to meet and discuss the Englesea’s future.

When I blogged about the 1913 photo of the houses on Beach Avenue last week I hadn’t heard of the Englesea Lodge. Many of you wrote and told me stories about the building and the fire that caused its destruction.

It’s a fascinating story that spans half-a-century—features the parks board as villain, the city as wishy washy and a group called the Save-Englesea Committee who had the radical idea that the building was part of our heritage and could co-exist perfectly well with the shoreline.

The Plan

Around the turn of the century, the water side of Beach Avenue was ringed with more than 30 houses and bookended by the Englesea Lodge and what’s now the Burrard Street Bridge. Some were fine old ivy-covered manors, others were more like Joe Fortes’s sweet little cabin at the foot of Bidwell.

 

Joe Fortes (1863-1922)
Joe Fortes outside his cottage at 1700 Beach Avenue. Vancouver Archives photo

In 1926 the Vancouver Town Planning Commission hired Harland Bartholomew, an American urban planner, to design a blue print for Vancouver’s growth. The 300-plus page book (now online thanks to Vancouver Archives) was the catalyst behind shedding the shoreline of bricks and mortar.

The first part of the plan involved the city expropriating 14 houses to make way for a “pleasure drive” in 1929. But the Depression and then the War got in the way and the houses became rentals for the next two decades.

Over the years the city bought up more properties until the only hold-out was the Englesea Lodge.

Englesea Lodge, Sylvia Hotel and English Bay Pier, 1913. Vancouver Archives

The Fight

The city paid $375,000 for the Englesea in 1967, and the battle to save it began.

Rents from the building had covered its cost by 1975 and supporters argued that future revenue would generate enough for renovations. But in 1979 Council voted to demolish the building anyway, issued eviction notices and locked up suites as they emptied. Later that year, the Englesea received another stay-of-execution when councillors voted 6-5 to delay further eviction notices until they found more justification than the parks board’s whim to destroy the building.

In 1980, the year before the fire, 29 of the 45 apartments remained occupied, and there was talk from the city of investing $1.3 million to turn the building into senior’s housing.

But to the parks board, the building which sat kitty corner from its offices, remained a blight on the shoreline—and their view—and they were determined to bulldoze English Bay back to sand and grass.

Beach Avenue was once ringed by houses from Chilco to Burrard
Englesea Lodge was designed by William White, the same architect who designed the Sylvia Hotel (then the Sylvia Courts Apartments) in 1912. White also designed the Del Mar Hotel on Hamilton Street.

The End

Strangely, the building’s fire alarm didn’t sound when fire broke out, and fortunately no one died in the fire. The parks board got its way, and we lost another charming old heritage building.

The day after the fire, Alderman Don Bellamy—who favoured demolition—told a Province reporter that the fire was “like fate itself has taken hold.”

And then he added:  “It’s a hell of a shallow victory. If we’re going to have our way, I hope to hell we don’t have to fry people to do it.”

For more on the West End see:

© All rights reserved. Unless otherwise indicated, all blog content copyright Eve Lazarus.