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St. Catharines Street Names Project

Thank you to Maurice Gomme for spearheading this incredible project and for seeing it through to it’s completion. 

Why are street names important?  Without them, identifying locations would be extremely difficult.  Just imagine trying to tell someone where you live if our streets had no names.  But in addition to their functional value the origin of street names in many cases, also tell us something about our past.  Therefore finding out the history behind the names has been the real challenge and the motivation for compiling this book.

This project includes streetnames from: St. Catharines, Grantham, Merriton and Port Dalhousie.

Download the St. Catharines Street Name Project Book (14MB)

Featured post

Lieutenant Governor’s Lifetime Achievement Award – Brian Narhi

by Marty Mako and Gail Benjafield

Feburary 3rd, 2014 – St. Catharines, Ontario is proud to have one of our own receive this,  the prestigious Ontario Lieutenant Governor’s Award,  to be presented later this month in Toronto.

The Lieutenant Governor’s Ontario Heritage Awards are presented for outstanding contributions to the identification, preservation, protection and promotion of Ontario’s heritage. Continue reading “Lieutenant Governor’s Lifetime Achievement Award – Brian Narhi”

St. Catharines’ hidden arts & crafts treasures

It’s hard to tell whether the whooshing noise rising up from behind the stately homes on Yates Street in St. Catharines comes from the rushing water of Twelve Mile Creek or the incessant traffic along Highway 406. Perhaps it’s the mournful cries from the ghosts of a thousand steamer ships, which, during the 1800s, carried wheat, lumber and iron along these waters.

What is definitely evident, as architect Harald Ensslen and I pull up in front of a delicately composed home of brick and stone, is that some of the province’s best examples of arts and crafts architecture are right here in this city of ancient — and current — canals.

Mr. Ensslen has invited me here on this warm late-summer day to recreate part of a house tour the Niagara Society of Architects organized in 2002. The tour was in conjunction with a gallery exhibit at Brock University that featured the work of Arthur Edwin Nicholson and Robert Ian Macbeth, two of the Niagara region’s most talented architects.

Mr. Nicholson, who was born in Buffalo, and Mr. Macbeth, who immigrated from Inverness, Scotland, partnered in 1918 after firmly establishing their individual reputations. (The latter was responsible for completing Andrew Carnegie’s Skibo Castle in 1912.) In 1930, they dissolved the partnership, but practised individually in the St. Catharines area.

The impetus behind the successful exhibit — a smaller version of which was displayed at St. Catharines City Hall earlier this year — was to remind people that architects design homes, too, Mr. Ensslen says, even “small, 1,500-square-foot” ones.

In the early 21st century, it’s commonplace to “do it yourself.” Big-box chains suggest anyone can build or renovate a home if they open their wallets and seek a little in-store advice. But in the early part of the last century, that was practically unthinkable.

“People hired architects to do houses because that’s what you did,” says Mr. Ensslen, a 1973 University of Toronto graduate. “And now, housing is such a commodity, [yet]people spend more on their home entertainment systems. . . . But the idea of hiring somebody and giving them $10,000 or $20,000 to design their house is beyond the pale,” he laughs.

His words begin to ring true as we walk along Yates Street, admiring homes. There’s the 1928 Cecil G. Horton residence, with its tall, tapering chimney, dramatic roofline and cut stones outlining a tiny arched window. And the “perfect corner house” at No. 52 (currently for sale at $349,900), which practically rubs up against the sidewalk yet, thoughtfully, offers privacy via an entrance placed perpendicular to it.

We go past an example of Mr. Macbeth’s solo work — an exquisite 1937 Prairie-style bungalow — and of the duo’s late-period work, a rather wild 1928 Italianate job (proving that arts and crafts was a philosophy allowing for the incorporation of different architectural styles rather than a strict set of design rules). Then we come to the 1922 Henry Taylor residence, now owned by Moira Freshwater and James Wakil.

Waiting for our hosts to answer the doorbell, we admire the house next door, also a Nicholson and Macbeth, for its unusual wavy brick courses peppered with the odd “clinker” brick, and ruminate on how these houses were designed with pedestrians in mind rather than speeding automobiles.

“Welcome to the Addams Family house,” jokes Ms. Freshwater as we enter her dark, cozy, masculine and highly original residence. “The only thing that we’ve touched really are the bathrooms,” she continues, and then points to the all the dark wood.

“Why would anybody rip this out?”

Built by a successful brewer, the home once had a doorway in the library that led directly to the house next door, where his daughter lived, so he could visit and play cards. The half-timbered home presents itself as a small cottage to the street then secretly tumbles down its ravine lot at the back. Other notable features are the massive, solid limestone fireplace in the walkout living room in the basement living room, and the highly detailed wooden curtain in the adjacent hallway.

Our next stop is Glenridge Avenue and three neighbouring homes, the first of which was built in 1929 for judge Harry Binns and is now owned by Herb and Alice Schutz. Here, it’s the extra-wide, wood-panelled reception hall that is most striking. When the many doors leading to various rooms are closed, they blend into the woodwork and practically disappear.

Next door, purists Murray and Silvia Miles have imported and hung Roycroft wallpaper to match the dinnerware in their 1925 home, built originally for lawyer A.E. Mix. They’ve also added a seamless family room addition, employing a “local stucco master,” and continued the copper roof.

“It’s the one really nice, bright room,” says Mr. Miles, who, like myself, considers architectural drawings to be works of art and has many framed examples in his home.

At our last stop, the former 1926 LeRoy Peart residence, Mr. Ensslen and I marvel at the majestic two-storey living room with its “choir loft” balcony, and again speculate on why it has become so rare today to employ architects to design smaller houses. We decide that perhaps it’s not for lack of desire, but rather because today’s professionals are never sure how long they’ll stay in one community.

“It’s also a kick-the-tire kind of mentality,” Mr. Ensslen adds. “Going through the design process takes a couple of years, and people don’t have the patience or the time. They might be moved before the two years are up!”

Here in this pretty city of canals, however, the relationships between Nicholson and Macbeth homes and their owners seem very well entrenched indeed.

Dave LeBlanc hosts The Architourist on CFRB Wednesdays during Toronto at Noon and Sunday mornings. Send inquiries to

This article was originally posted on the Globe and Mail website on September 29, 2006.

In St. Catharines, a revealing Modernism

This article was originally posted on the Globe and Mail Website on June 17, 2010

How’s this for bookends?

• Completed in 1960, the Lapierre residence in St. Catharines, Ont., won a coveted silver Massey Medal in 1961.

• Almost a half-century later, in May, 2010, the home wins again, this time an Ontario Association of Architects Landmark Award.

Photo from the Globe and Mail

Someone ought to write a book to park between those two architectural bookends. Until such time, here’s the short version of how this remarkable 3,000-square-foot laminated timber masterpiece came about: In the late 1950s, Dr. and Mrs. Armand Lapierre asked St. Catharines architect James E. Secord (1918-79) to design a home for them on Wood-Dale Drive near the bottom of the Niagara escarpment. While the Lapierres asked for a conservative, three-storey house, the strong-willed Mr. Secord (related to Laura Secord) made a case for a daring modernist design to take advantage of the topographically challenging wooded lot.

Saul Herzog, Mr. Secord’s employee and collaborator, remembers that, to his credit, there weren’t “any real changes as the design progressed” and that the Lapierres “liked what we did.”

What’s not to like? Touring the bold post-and-beam pavilion last week with St. Catharines architects Harald Ensslen and Greg Redden, one is struck by how it reads like a textbook of mid-century modern motifs. Accessed by a footbridge over a tiny stream, the wraparound balcony “floats” the home over the lot, and the carport, a satellite building, would float away if not for its pathway tether. Inside, clerestories float the ceiling. A rich panelled pony wall separating the foyer from the living area allows light to spill down, while beams above slip silently past submissive glass walls and anchor to exterior posts. Opaque walls, too, float away from baseboards and trim as a result of a half-inch gap that reveals their edges: “The whole notion of architecture in those days was the reveals,” Mr. Ensslen says. “Materials didn’t meet.” Watching over this kinetic, architectural poetry is a huge, sentry-like, plastered-metal fireplace.

It’s a sublime composition with a quiet dignity that’s not been lost on the five successive sets of owners since the Lapierres, which may explain why portions of the floor-to-ceiling glass walls have not been covered up, or why awkward additions aren’t popping out like architectural pimples. Current owners Erik and Dale Peacock first fell in love with the house 15 years ago while catering private parties for one of those sets of owners (Mr. Peacock is chef/owner of the acclaimed Wellington Court restaurant) and, armed with that memory, were quick to purchase when it hit the market in September, 2009.

In fact, the very few and minor changes the Peacocks have done to the interior – which include the removal of a half-wall between the dining and living areas and the elimination of a den beside the kitchen to create a large chef-worthy workspace – have been painstakingly planned out: “It’s always going to be the Lapierre home,” says Mr. Peacock as he stands behind his massive stainless steel countertop delicately carving thin slices of gravlax. “We really respect the house and its property … but there are a few things that you just need.” Watching from a stool, Mr. Redden adds: “Part of the adaptability of the floor plan to meet contemporary requirements speaks to the flexibility of the original design.”

It was the need to speak to a new generation of architects that prompted Mr. Ensslen and Michael Zuberec of Macdonald Zuberec Ensslen Architects Inc., along with Ian Elmes of Quartek Group, to nominate the Lapierre house for the OAA Landmark Awar this year. Mr. Secord was an “unusually talented designer,” Mr. Herzog writes in an e-mail, and he studied landscape architecture and urban planning at Harvard under Bauhaus legend Walter Gropius (Philip Johnson was a classmate and friend). He later completed his architecture degree at the University of Toronto. Mentioning the Secord-Herzog competition-winning design for Red Deer City Hall in Alberta, the 79-year-old Mr. Zuberec remarks: “It was a very talented office.” From the vantage point of the Lapierre wraparound balcony, Mr. Ensslen waxes nostalgic while snapping a few pictures: “I want to be an architect when I come here, this is why I went to architecture school.”

The home’s so important that it’s going to be the “flagship” of a gallery show planned for this fall that will highlight the region’s postwar buildings, says Mr. Redden, chairman of the Niagara Society of Architects.

It’s about time. In Niagara as elsewhere, mid-century modern architecture is at its most vulnerable right now, since it’s old enough for expensive systems to fail but young enough that it’s not considered a valuable heritage resource. New owners who respect the intentions of original designers of these 50- to 60-year-old spaces, such as the Peacocks, are a rare breed; to create more like them, outreach through gallery shows or house tours will be necessary.

Only then will the spaces between bookends be filled with books about a farm-boy-turned-visionary architect who called our famous War of 1812 heroine a distant relative: “He was a very interesting person,” Mr. Zuberec says. “It’s a pity his demise was so early.”

This article was originally posted on the Globe and Mail Website on June 17, 2010

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