Winnipeg 2010: Day 5

On the last full day of our visit, Greg and I are up early, in anticipation of a family brunch at The Forks, a market and cultural venue at the confluence of the Red and Assiniboine Rivers. The gathering is not for another couple of hours, so Greg and I take advantage of the early hours to walk around the neighbourhood of my parents' condo, mainly for some exercise.

With another hour before brunch, Greg and I head south, towards Broadway Avenue. We walk along Vaughan Street, on the east side of the Bay department store. On the corner of Vaughan Street and St. Mary Avenue, we look up at one of my favourite buildings, the Winnipeg Clinic, founded in 1938 by Paul H.T. Thorlakson. Dr. Thorlakson was an active and prominent member of the medical community in Winnipeg, helping to establish the present-day Health Sciences Centre, and serving on several boards and associations throughout his life. The Winnipeg Clinic was founded on, and continues to adhere to, principles strongly held by Dr. Thorklakson. He believed that quality medical research and practice could only be attained through on-site experience in teaching hospitals and a thorough knowledge of patient histories.

Initially, a one-storey structure of Tyndall Stone and glass bricks was constructed at the corner of Vaughan Street and St. Mary Avenue. An additional five-storey, and later, seven-storey, building was erected on the east side of the original one-storey clinic. The clinic's architecuture reflects experimentation with the early Modernist style. Its visual impact is arresting, given its inception; it has been referred to as the Jetsons building.

Diagonally across from the Winnipeg Clinic is the Manitoba Archives Building.  Constructed in 1932 as a multi-use community building, it was designed jointly by Northwood and Chivers, Pratt & Ross, and J.N. Semmens, and, until 1974, functioned as the Winnipeg Auditorium. Since 1974, the building has been home to the Manitoba Archives, The Hudson's Bay Company Archives, and the archives of the Manitoba Legislature.

Like many other civic buildings in Winnipeg the Winnipeg Auditorium was a make-work project during the Depression, providing much-needed employment to those in the construction and building trades. The funding originated from all three levels of government.

When completed, the facility played host to renowned international artists and musicians, including Vladimir Horowitz, Sergei Rachmaninoff, Fritz Kreisler, and Glenn Gould. Ballet companies, including The Ballet Russes and Sadler Wells, as well as orchestras such as The New York Philharmonic, have also performed there.

Despite its handsome design, the building was acoustically flawed, given its multi-purpose use as a dance hall, convention centre, and skating rink. When the Manitoba Centennial Concert Hall opened in 1968, it supplanted the Winnipeg Auditorium as a state-of-the-art facility with perfect acoustics, designed by Russell Johnson.

South of the Manitoba Archives are additional buildings I photograph, including the Norquay Building, the Law Courts and the Manitoba Legislative Building.

The latter - the Lej, we call it - has always been a fascinating place for me. I have visited here many times: as a touring elementary and junior high school student, as a chorister,  and as an audience member, when choral groups sang in the acoustically haunting rotunda. The building has always held an aura of mystery, tranquility, and ordered precision, notions not lost on me when I read up on its history.

The Manitoba Legislative Building was completed in 1920. Neoclassical in its style, it was designed by Frank Worthington Simon and Henry Boddington III, both free masons, whose winning designs won the competition held amongst architects throughout the British Empire. They received $10,000 for their efforts.

Because the Manitoba Legislative Building was designed and constructed by Free Masons, urban legends abound related to the symbology of its precise layout, the connections to mystical religions, and the meaning of its statuary. Recent research by Frank Albo, a Research Fellow at the University of Winnipeg, intriguingly attests to the building's connections to esoteric mysticism.

We skirt around the building's eastern facade, note the regal statues of Lord Selkirk - Scottish Philanthropist who sponsored the settlement of Manitoba in the early 19th century - and Pierre La Verendrye - farmer, fur trader, explorer, and military officer who led expeditions to open up the areas from Lake Superior to the Lower Saskatchewan and Missouri Rivers, to the French fur trade, and carry on south towards Osborne Village.

We linger for a short time on the Osborne Street Bridge, taking in the view on this bright and cloudless morning. On the west side of the bridge are three high rise apartment buildings from the late 1970s. Evergreen Towers have, for a long time, been considered prime residences due to their location, on the south side of the Assiniboine River. They are within close proximity to prime shopping in charming Osborne Village, and are across the bridge from other attractions, including the Manitoba Legislature and the Forks Market. Over the years, one of each building has been home to various friends, colleagues, and acquaintances.

Almost directly at the foot of the Osborne Bridge lies The Roslyn, an apartment building that dates back to 1908 and is a designated heritage site. Though I have never been inside, I have heard of its large and character-filled units, and have always admired its deep red-painted brick facade. Like many of Winnipeg's older buildings, the Roslyn's imposing character is a presence on the corner of Osborne and Roslyn Road.

From here, Greg and I head east on Roslyn Road, encountering other apartments, of various vintages, along the way - from early 20th century to the late 1960s. We note the unusual quality of the street: not one single-family home exists here. We wonder how it came to house only apartment buildings.

Historically, Roslyn Road East was not comprised solely of apartment buildings. From 1880 to 1914, Winnipeg's prime location made it the development and investment centre of Canada's west,  and so attracted a number of affluent and influential residents. As a result of the financial boom that ensued, Roslyn Road East became an enclave of the wealthy, due, in large part, to its riverside location. Residents included J.C. Falls, a business man, who built a large Queen Anne Revival style home at 36 Roslyn Road and August Nanton, who built a large mansion on five acres at 61 Roslyn Crescent (229 Roslyn Road).

Roslyn Road itself is part of a larger district of Winnipeg called Fort Rouge, an area bounded by the Assiniboine River to its north, by the Red River to its east and south, and by Stafford Street and Pembina Highway to its west. Fort Rouge was named after a fort built in the 1730s by Louis Damours de Louvieres, a lieutenant of the aforementioned explorer, Pierre de La Verendrye. In the early 1800s, the area consisted of small farms, but later expanded in the latter part of the century when two bridges, one connecting Main Street with the French quarter of Winnipeg, St. Boniface, and the other connecting the two sections of Pembina Road (later, Osborne Street). With the completion of the two bridges in the 1880s, together with the presence of a streetcar line (Park Line), Fort Rouge expanded, with many mid-sized homes, reflecting a growing middle class, constructed. Most of the apartment buildings now standing on Roslyn Road East were built from the 1950s to the 1980s.

We pass one small brick apartment building and note the elegant interior through the generously-sized windows. Tucked away at the eastern-most end of this cul-de-sac, it strikes me as an ideal building to have an apartment in: it is private, quiet, bright, and elegant.

This building, reminds me of another, more imposing one, on the other side of Osborne Avenue, on Roslyn Road West. This latter building is the former home of Mireille Grandpierre, a former ballerina with, among others, the Paris Opera and the Russian Ballet companies, during an illustrious career in France that started at age nine and ended in the 1940s, when she met her husband, Max, and re-located to Winnipeg, after the liberation of Paris in 1946. She gave birth to their son, Ronald, in the same year.  Like the smaller red brick apartment I admiringly gaze at, the Grandpierre's home - really a mansion - is also of red brick, and also housed Madame's studio, the Ballet Conservatory, where she taught dance for decades, starting in 1956. I have only been there once, as a teenager, when, after a play rehearsal at my high school, St. Paul's, I was one of the passengers in the car of a teacher, giving Madame a lift home.

As a theatre enthusiast and member of the St. Paul's High School Drama Society, I first met Madame Grandpierre when she choreographed some of the plays in which I performed, including 'Mother Goose's Golden Christmas', 'Something's Afoot', and 'The Three Musketeers'. Many of the students regarded her as an anachronism, with her Parisian rigorousness and impeccable chignon. I, however, secretly admired her eccentricities, chalking them up to her Parisian-bred life and the rigours of her decades of dance discipline. She had been, after all, a ballet protegee at 11, and a recipient of a World Gold Medal (in ballet) in 1939, at the age of 13. Being students at a boys' school, however, my classmates were not impressed (or, at least, professed not to be) by an aging former ballerina. Behind her back, they aped her strong French accent, with their imitations of her exhortations: "Boiz, vee meust bee seenkronaized", as she demonstrated plies and arabesques that we, in our roles as blackbirds, had to emulate. The boys sneered and guffawed. I, on the other hand, was dance in heaven!

I was even more impressed when I later learned of Madame's long connection with St. Paul's. She had taught a French culture class there in the 1970s', subsequently forming a strong friendship with the Drama Society's Director, Fr. John Murray, and with whom she formed an artistic alliance. It was under his auspices that the Drama Society flourished, renowned in the city for putting on the best school plays - two a year - along, with a talented cast, crew, and musicians.

Having learned recently that Mireille Grandpierre passed away in 2008, I cannot help but be sad. Her talent, refinement, and sophistication were reminders of the standards I tried to emulate and apply to my own passions, regardless of me being judged for having them. Reminiscing about Madame, I am struck by the peculiarity of the source of some of my inspirations. I did not know her very well. She did leave an indelible mark. There was no one like her.

Noting the passing time, Greg and I head back to my parents' condo. The four of us then head over to the Forks Market, where we join my two brothers and sister, their partners, and my nephew Renzy. Brunch is to be at the Inn At The Forks, a swank hotel renovated in 2004. We enjoy the rich, delicious food, then make our way outside to enjoy the warm weather.

The Forks is the name given to the confluence between the Red and Assiniboine Rivers, the site of Winnipeg. For thousands of years, it had been the setting for cultural, religious, and social gatherings of aboriginal people. From the 18th century on, it has been a major site of Canada's fur trade, the development of Manitoba's railways, and the entry point of immigrants to Western Canada. Today, The Forks play a more social role in Winnipeg's cultural and historical landscape. Many of the heritage building on site - including railways sheds, terminals, and power plants have been transformed into spaces for shopping, dining, and enjoying theatrical performances. There is also a children's museum, an historical interpretive centre, and hotel and conference centre.

My memories of The Forks go back to when it first opened in the late 80s. It was a place where I would enjoy the seasons with friends and family. Winter at The Forks usually consisted of breakfasts at the Pancake House or dinner at the Prairie Oyster. Christmas time was particularly enjoyable, given the variety of activities one could take in, including skating on the Assiniboine River, perusing the antiques stalls, and enjoying a chicken Caesar salad at the Old Spaghetti Factory.

On several occasions, The Forks was the venue of choice for my friend, Robert, and me. In the winters, we would walk on the frozen Assiniboine River from the Wolseley area to the Forks, braving frigid temperatures and warmed by our conversations. We would then have lunch or breakfast at one of the restaurants, before taking in the antiques market in the basement of the Johnston Terminal. In the summers we would cycle to The Forks, snap up ice cream, and sit on the grassy banks of the river. Walking was a favoured pastime, and The Forks, with its many and extensive paths facilitated strolling and discussion.

The Forks was also a venue of choice for the English As A Second Language program in which I taught at the University of Winnipeg (1999-2004). With its extensive ice rinks, carefully groomed to function as pathways on the river, The Forks attracted many of our students and instructors to the river banks for hours of fun. Watching Sergio, a young Mexican of 19, for instance, excel at ice skating, despite having been exposed to it only after arriving in Winnipeg, was spellbinding. Clearly he is an accomplished athlete, which I note, given how, by comparison, he is less accomplished, even cantankerous, in the classroom. Seeing him and others of his Mexican friends skating effortlessly and fearlessly, it occurs to me how individuals possess different strengths and, therefore, how important it is to provide them with opportunities to exercise and to acknowledge these. I call Mario over. He is not one of my students, but I compliment him on his natural ice skating prowess. He is well chuffed, and I could tell that his gratitude is heartfelt; it is not only for the praise, but also that it is coming from an instructor, an ostensible academic, a symbolic antagonist.

The Forks today is brilliantly sunny. No longer able to withstand the heat, I make phone contact with my long-time friend Angela, who offers to fetch me from my parents' condo and drive me to Bird's Hill Park, where we would have one of our regular visits.

Having known her for 15 years, Angela has been one my dearest friends. We initially met after having both been participants on the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Programme, albeit during different years. I had been back in Winnipeg three years when Angela (or Ange, as I call her), prompted by a friend of hers whom I had recently become acquainted, contacted me. Our initial phone conversation lasted a couple of hours, as did our initial meeting. A long friendship has since developed, with our respective JET experiences, fascination with Japanese culture, and interest in music and nature being our common bonds. For 6 years, we worked together as volunteer executive members of the Manitoba-Saskatchewan JET Programme Alumni Association, aiding in programme recruitment and social activities. Years before she moved into her own house, Ange had an apartment half a block up from where I lived; I spent many weekend nights over at hers, discussing the finer points of paper making, watching a video, or listening to her latest musical fascination. Ange has a superb singing voice and has long been a fixture in Winnipeg's choral music community. Since 1998, she has been a devoted member of Camerata Nova, a choral ensemble dedicated to medieval, Renaissance, and aboriginal music, sung a capella. The group's annual concert at the Manitoba Legislative Building is always a beautifully meditative experience, augmented by the haunting acoustics of the building's interior spaces.

On this hot Sunday afternoon, Ange and I drive to Bird's Hill Park with her two dogs, Madrigal (Madi) and Bilbo (Billy). I had not been to this park in almost 10 years. It is a perfect summer day: hot, breezy, and slightly humid. The site Ange has chosen is one off the beaten path, and is, in fact, not open to the public. Given her many visits to the park over the years - as both avid camper and Folk Festival attendee - Ange is quite familiarity with the lay of the land...and how not to get caught and turfed. We let  the dogs off their leads and sit on a picnic table. This set of grounds is deserted and the peace and tranquility are highly
palpable.

Ange apprises me of the year's events in her life, and I do the same with her. As we chat, she continually tosses a Frisbee for Madi to fetch. Billy, being older, is content to sit out the exercise and to take comfort in the shade the picnic table offers.

I take in the natural surroundings as Ange carries on with the account of her past year.

Bird's Hill Provincial Park, opened in 1967, was created as a natural preserve for oak and aspen trees, as well as a venue for recreation, including hiking, horse-back riding, hiking, and nature viewing. It is a unique natural habitat for a variety of landscapes, rarely seen in one venue. These include esker ridges, dry prairie, wet meadows, bogs, and mixed boreal forest.

Apart from its natural attractions, Bird's Hill Park also hosts over a hundred special events a year, including sports' competitions, weddings, company picnics, and fund raising events, in addition to the Winnipeg Folk Festival, one of Canada's longest-running music festivals. It has been staged in the park since 1974.

Bird’s Hill Park, for me, has been the setting of a number of school-days incidents, all memorable, though not all affirming. One June day, just before the start of summer holidays, the upper grades of the elementary school I was attending went on an all-day excursion to the park. Because of the number of participating students, school buses were augmented by private vehicles of chaperoning parents. One sleek station wagon, owned by my classmate Angela’s father, had a rear seat that looked out the vehicle’s tailgate. Three of us – Susan, Angela, and I – occupied that seat, and we spent the better part of the 45-minute ride happily waving out the window at the occupants of the vehicle driving behind our station wagon. Just before our arrival at the park, however, as my two female seatmates were making eyes at the seemingly receptive male driver behind us, he suddenly accelerated and gave our vehicle a more than heavy thump, with his front fender. All of us lurched forward, and then backwards, as Angela’s father braked hard and suddenly. I remember biting my tongue, as much as from the squeamish sound of metal on metal, as from the impact of hit. Luckily, no one was hurt and we carried on, without further incident; but what appalled us all was how the other driver, without seeming regard for the young passengers of our car, did what he did, and then cowardly sped off. Needless to say, with the number of us in the car, at least one of the adults was able to record the culprit’s license plate.

On arriving at the park, and with the glorious weather to buoy our spirits, the incident is quickly supplanted with more lighthearted activity. Some of us walk over to the park’s horse stables while most of us, head for a swim in the artificial lake. The water and sun are perfect: enticing and comforting, augmented by the constant breezes. Students and chaperons interact and share food freely and by the end of our visit, many of us grudgingly go off to the dressing rooms to change for the journey home.

Inside, I am suddenly faced with the dilemma – at the time, highly significant to an 11-year-old: having to undress in front of my male classmates, something I had never had to do before. This point of the day’s events had only briefly crossed my mind earlier, when, in preparation, I had worn my trunks underneath my trousers. Arriving at the beach, I needed only to remove the outer layer, without having to suffer the embarrassment of undressing completely. Now, I have no choice. Mortified and running out of time to make up my mind, I quickly put my trousers on, over top of my wet trunks. I resume my place in the back of Angela’s father’s station wagon, place my backpack on my lap, and forget about my discomfort on the return journey home by engaging fully in conversation with the others. It was only when I am about to exit the car, an hour later, that I realize I have on light-coloured trousers. From the side windows, I discern Angela and Susan’s reflections, simultaneously gasping when they see my bottom half, the top potion darker in colour than the bottom. At the same time, I see Angela’s father, who had evidently anticipated a potentially humiliating experience, gently prod the two girls into silence. Susan bites her lip; Angela adjusts her sunglasses. I carry on home, my face burning, yet my honour still intact.

Having caught up with Angela’s news, she drops me off at my parents’ condo, where Greg has been working on his papers. In a while, we head over to my cousin Ruby and her husband Matthew’s house, for a quick visit. Not having been there for several years, we note the marvelous transformation their house has undergone, a process that they had initiated six years previously. With their two young kids asleep upstairs, we stay on the first floor. They show us their renovated kitchen, with its underfloor heating; recount the ordeal of working with a cantankerous contractor, prone to dictatorial pronouncements regarding the work that needed done; and reminisce the feeling of satisfaction of completing an extensive project. We then settle to some fine wine and watch a bit of TV, interspersed with conversations ranging from travels to current events to raising their kids. We take our leave, knowing that all is well with Ruby and Matt.

In many ways, this year’s visit to Winnipeg is no different to others we have had, the most notable difference being the recent addition of family members and the memorable reunion I had with former colleagues at the University of Winnipeg. In reality, however, Greg and I took in areas of the city that, seen through his urban planning eyes, I experienced in new ways, making the occasion of coming home all the more worthwhile and satisfying.

References:
1. 36 Roslyn Road: J.C.Falls House: City of Winnipeg Historical Buildings Committee, January 1994.
2. Bird's Hill Provincial Park - Background Information, Manitoba Parks, June 2010.
3. Former Nanton Estate: City of Winnipeg Historical Buildings Committee, 1980.
4. The Forks Website
5. The Canadian Encyclopedia Website - Manitoba Centennial Concert Hall 
6. The Canadian Encyclopedia Website - Pierre La Verendrye  
7. The Canadian Encylopedia Website - Winnipeg Auditorium 
8. Obituary: Mireille Grandpierre 
9. The Progress of an Idea: The Story of the Winnipeg Clinic Research Institute, R.S. Mitchell, M.D., Winnipeg MB, 1966.
10. Wikipedia - Fort Rouge (Winnipeg) 
11. Wikipedia - Lord Selkirk 
12. The Winnipeg Clinic Website
13. Winnipeg Art Gallery Website


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