Winnipeg 2010: Day 3

It is 10:00. Greg and I meet my parents and Christine and Rob for breakfast, at my parents' condo. Having rented one of the guest suites in the same building, though, all Greg and I have to do is go up six floors: very convenient!

My parents, Pol and Alice, moved into their high-rise condo after selling the Wolseley-neighbourhood house we grew up in in 2008. After I moved out, mom wanted to downsize. She found it difficult to maintain such a large space, with its three flights of stairs, which compounded her back pain. Initially concerned about how she would adjust to a significantly smaller space, she now has no regrets about making this move. With all of the condo's amenities, neither she nor my father has to shovel walks, cut grass, or vacuum multiple levels of floors.  The new space,  with its two bedrooms and bathrooms, windows that permit cross breezes and natural light, and a higher elevation, not only unburdens my mother of a significant portion of her domestic duties, it also insures security.

Being higher up the condo allows charming views of downtown Winnipeg, including the Winnipeg Adult Education Centre, to its west. This Centre is housed in the former Isbister School, one of four schools - Gladstone, Machray, and Wellington are the other three - built in neighbourhoods north of Portage Avenue (Winnipeg's main thoroughfare) in the late 19th century, a reflection of the city's expansion. The building now known as the Winnipeg Adult Education Centre is named after Alexander Kennedy Isbister, a highly reputable scholar and educator from the northwest. It was built in the Queen Anne style of architecture, characterized by an eclectic mix of other architectural styles, notably the Tudor.

The school was well used throughout the early 20th century, until the mid-1960s, when, due to dwindling enrolment, it was closed. It re-opened in 1967 as the Winnipeg Adult Education Centre, providing a high school education to mature learners. Today, this character-full building has been expanded to include modern additions to its rear, housing additional classrooms and administrative offices.

Other buildings my parents' condo overlooks, include other famous landmarks, such as the former Gordon Downtowner Hotel, fronting Ellice Avenue; the Brutalist styles of the William and Catherine Booth Residence and Lockhart Hall of the University of Winnipeg; and the Raleigh Apartments, at the corner of Vaughan Street and Ellice Avenue. This latter building was built in 1931 and incorporates colourful stonework rendered in the Art-Deco style. It was a project that the municipal government  approved of during the height of the Depression, along with other make-work projects, such as bridges and cultural institutions.

My mother has, once again, outdone herself on the food preparations front, offering a variety of delicious favourites, including bacon and eggs, cereal, jams, and "pandesal", a traditional Filipino bread. Our conversation, as in years past, focuses on our family history, including the story of my maternal grandmother's childhood raised by the wife of a local ship magnate and the subsequent life of privilege she led. We reminisce about her warmth and generosity, but also of her famous temper, which my mother believes was due to her apparent addiction to coffee.

After breakfast, Greg stays in the condo suite, to work on some research, Christine and Rob head off to visit his aunt in St. Boniface, and I head over to the Exchange District, a downtown neighbourhood I am quite fond of. It is here where the University of Winnipeg's Division of Continuing Education, where I worked full time for five years, had its space. It is also here where I had a fashion design studio for four years.

The area dates back to the late 19th century, when Winnipeg was the grain capital of the country; the area's name is derived from the Winnipeg Grain Exchange, the commodity trading centre, where all goods were bought and sold. The Exchange District developed when a number of buildings related to the grain trade were built and operated in the area. These include the building that now houses the downtown campus of Red River College, on Pricess Street; another that still functions and is aptly named the Grain Exchange, on Lombard Street; and the last on the corner of Portage Avenue and Main Street.

The building in which my former studio is located is known as the Bate Building (formerly the Lyon Block), and was constructed in 1883 to house a grocery wholesaler, Lyon, Mackenzie, and Powis. Its construction reflected the business boom of 1880 to 1882 and was one of several properties built on the major cross streets surrounding Main Street.

The building, designed in the Romanesque revival style, was solidly built on a stone foundation to support the heavy stock stored therein. At the time of its completion, it was a mere three storeys tall, and was far more detailed than it is today, incorporating decorative brick work, arches over doors, brick buttresses, and pressed metal.

In 1893, Lyon's wholesaler vacated the building and was replaced by Thompson, Codville and Company, another grocery wholesaler, until 1899. The Manitoba Free Press took over until 1905, when, after outgrowing the space, it left. J.A.M. Aikens, one of the most prominent law firms in Winnipeg, then purchased the building, with the intention of renovating it into office space. As part of its remodeling, Aikins hired architect J.H.G. Russell to add two storeys to the building, which resulted in the addition of concrete columns for reinforcement, large storefront windows, and an exquisite Otis-Fenson cage elevator, which still exists - though inoperable - today.

The Aikens firm eventually vacated the space and the building continued as both warehouse and office spaces for Winnipeg's film industry, the Royal Brand Clothing Company, the Office Specialty Manufacturing Company, and Continental Clothing. In 1942, Bate and Bate, a drug wholesaler, purchased the building, changed its name, and occupied the space for a time. Since its departure, the Bate Building has functioned primarily as a combination of office and retail spaces and artist studios.

I moved into the Bate Building, after operating a fledgling fashion design business - Thomas Robles Couture -  out of a neighbour's spare bedroom for five years. My brother Paul, an artist, already had space in the building and it was from him I received a tip that a 600 sq. foot studio space had become available. Generally in great condition after previously functioning as a computer firm, the space came equipped with numerous electrical outlets that could accommodate several pieces of sewing and pressing equipment, precluding the need for extensive renovation. Coupled with low rent at $189.00 a month, I moved in expeditiously in August 2000.

Consisting of blonde hard-wood floors, 12-foot ceilings, and two enormous arched windows, the Bate Building studio was one of my great loves. In its warm embrace I could lose myself in my passion for clothing design and construction. Intended as both work space and showroom, it was here I consulted with clients on commissions, spent hours researching and experimenting with new ideas and patterns, and generally hung out when I was not teaching.

Decorated in an industrial-modernist style and furnished with vintage finds and custom pieces by a friend, Robert, I enjoyed the tranquility the space provided as well as its proximity to fabric shops, art galleries, and the museum - places from which I derived much inspiration. Giving it up to re-locate to Toronto in 2004 was one of my deepest regrets, especially in light of my inability to find a similarly affordable space in this city.

Much of the furniture and equipment from the studio is now divided between two storage spaces in Toronto. Whenever I access these units and gaze on the pieces - stacked, worn, and dusty - I am reminded of their former use, and the pleasure I had of their company.

Walking around the Exchange today, I remark on the vibrancy of the area. Buildings that used to house dingy storage spaces are now breathing new life, due to the influx of new businesses and a more youthful, multicultural vibe.

I stop at Hooper's Bazaar, a vintage mid-century furniture shop from which I purchased many of the pieces in my studio. Formerly housed on the first floor of the Bate Building, it moved, a few years back, to larger spaces across the street. Warren's eye, in my opinion, is still flawless: furniture and home accessories that showcase impeccable craftsmanship and timelessness and that reflect a bygone era that today's new designs can only hope to achieve, despite their high cost.

My next stop is Ragpickers, another established haunt. Here, vintage clothing and accessories, available for purchase, vie with beautiful vintage costumes, for rent. On walking through the doors, the aroma of worn leather and powder puffs, take me back to when I used to frequent the place. I spy and pounce on a red wool cardigan - a steal at $15.00.

After Ragpickers, I stop for a meal at Jejomar, a restaurant specializing in Filipino pastries: ensemada (a bread roll injected with butter and sprinkled with sugar), pandesal (a traditional breakfast roll), bitchu bitchu (a twisted soft bread sprinkled with sugar), and shupao (a Chinese bun stuffed with meat and vegetables). I forego on the sweets and have soup and a sandwich instead. I contemplate the name, Jejomar, which reflects the Filipino propensity for name conflation: It is short for Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. As I eat, a long-time friend, Dennis, whom I have not seen for years, walks by. I invite him to sit with me, and we have a quick catch-up before he runs.

I first met Dennis in the late 90s. He and his partner, Tim, would regularly have me over to their home for engaging conversations over exquisite meals, prepared with great skill and passion. We shared interests in design, film, and alternative music. Dennis was very much into theatre then, even performing in a play at Prairie Theatre Exchange. I also enjoyed outings to their cottage where we, together with other friends, would engage in much tomfoolery, in the rain. Having spent the early 90s feeling isolated in Winnipeg after my Japan years, having friends such as Tim and Dennis was a boon. For years beforehand, I often spent time either on my own or in the company of others with whom I had little in common, conforming to social conventions that were anything but affirming, or even satisfying. My friendship with Tim and Dennis, together with a few other kindred spirits, buoyed my self-esteem and renewed my hopes for a contented life in Winnipeg. When I inevitably did re-locate to Toronto, their friendship and my memories of our time together, were ones that I deeply missed. Today, Dennis is a youthful sixty. Still handsome, trim, and content, he is waiting to obtain another piercing to add to his collection and feels largely at peace with where his life now is.

On leaving Jejomar, I head over to meet Christine and Rob at a restaurant owned by one of Christine's high school chums, Janet. Janet's restaurant used to be a hip clothing boutique, but she decided to re-open a wool and knitting shop and cafe in the same space. In addition to stocking high quality wool, Janet, being Korean, also carries in her shop, the Japanese and Korean snacks that I craved as child. The strategic move was a smart one: as a restaurant/cafe/shop, specializing in kim chee and other Asian treats, Janet has seen a rise in sales, due to an influx of Filipino customers, attracted by her specialty fare.

I pick up a couple of packages of chips - Calbee brand: a rare find these days - before heading home, overwhelmed by the humid heat. In the evening, Greg, Christine, Rob, and I have dinner with my parents. As before, our conversation centres mainly on our family stories. A thunderstorm is brewing outside, prompting my recollection and recounting of the trauma with storms I experienced as a kid.

At my parents' Wolseley neighbourhood house, my siblings and I used to run around a lot, as part of our play. One summer evening, during a particularly powerful storm, Christine, Paul, and I were chasing each other on the second floor, making our way towards the back of the house, to a room bordered by windows on all sides. On entering the room, lightning strikes a hydro pole behind the house, blowing the hydro box open, dispersing metal and wire in the wake of the loudest explosion I have ever heard. Christine and Paul push me in front of them, instinctively shielding themselves, in a fit of fear. I, on the other hand, have no choice but to face the horror, riveted in place by four arms, simultaneously dazzled and shocked by the blast. Minutes later, as emergency vehicles arrive and we are temporarily evacuated to my aunt and uncle's down the street, I wince at every lightning flash. I have never recovered.

At my parents' condo, dinner is wrapping up. Christine, Rob, and Greg, still transfixed by the imminent storm, walk over to the windows, Rob photographing the enormous, ever-expanding cumulus clouds. It is a spectacle. I on the other hand, sit in front of the TV, transfixed by an inane game show, unable to move.

References:
1. Isbister School (Winnipeg Adult Education Centre): Manitoba Culture, Heritage, and Recreation, Historic Resources Branch, 1984.
2. 221 McDermot Avenue - Bate Block (formerly Lyon Block & Aikins Block): City of Winnipeg Historical Buildings Committee, no date.
3. 340 Vaughan Street - Raleigh Apartments: City of Winnipeg Historical Buildings Committee, 1997.

See slide show below for more images (click on slide show to enlarge):