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The original 1963
Graham house, before
multiple alterations nearly doubled its size
Image credit:
Ezra Stoller/Esto
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Heritage on the Rocks
The demolition of Arthur Erickson’s
Graham house in West Vancouver
upset a great many people
—but for all the wrong reasons
By Michael Harris
In late November, a flurry of finger-wagging media commentators
discussed the demolition of an Arthur Erickson house
in West Vancouver. A wealthy developer named Shiraz
Lalji (with, the insinuation went,
no interest in local heritage or fine architecture)
tore down the Graham house at 6999 Isleview, near Horseshoe
Bay, in order to replace it with a “monster home.”
What went unreported was that there was
no treasure to tear down. Erickson’s Graham house—built
in 1963 for David Graham—had been steadily stripped
of its original genius over decades. Erickson built
a 3,500-square-foot wood-and-glass icon on what everyone
had considered an impossible site. By last winter, that
house was a bloated 6,000 square feet, thanks to unsympathetic,
non-Erickson additions. The fireplace was built over.
An elevator had been installed. The house was lost not
when bulldozers arrived in the front yard; it was lost
piecemeal over many years. And the culprit was not a
wealthy, London-based businessman, but a community that
failed to safeguard its own heritage.
The painter Gordon Smith lives (with his
wife, Marion) a short drive from the Graham house in
another Erickson building. (Theirs was built in 1966
and is also sited remarkably on problematic rock.) The
Smith house, unlike the Graham, is a stunning example
of informed preservation. All the furnishings work in
harmony with Erickson’s design, and the Smiths
employ “a full-time man” to keep up the
landscaping and exterior.
Without the stewardship of a sympathetic
artist like Smith, how can we maintain private property
as a public legacy? Cheryl Cooper, founder of the Arthur
Erickson Conservancy, says the fate of the Graham house
should serve as a wake-up call. West Vancouver and other
municipalities will, she hopes, take the demolition
as an impetus for appreciating the heritage we can still
save. “Look at the age of Canada,” says
Cooper. “Modern heritage is half our heritage.
Fifty years from now people are going to look back on
us and wonder why we didn’t fight to save it.”
The day after the nighttime knock-down,
architecture critic Trevor Boddy appeared on Fanny Kiefer’s
Studio 4 and pointed out, “We don’t have
ways to protect these houses; we don’t have adequate
ways to protect our history. We’ve got the weakest
heritage legislation in the Western world.” When
he brought up the Smith house, he noted that they, too,
have the legal right to flatten their home. Kiefer’s
eyes went saucer-wide: “I know them and I can
tell you—never.”
Never say never. The Smiths have bequeathed
their home to the Vancouver Art Gallery, and once the
VAG has it, “They can knock it down and raise
money for themselves—that would be fine,”
says Smith. “People will be angry with me saying
that. But we have put no conditions on them. Keeping
a home preserved forever is a romantic idea. But, you
know, at the Graham house? Even the Grahams didn’t
really know what they had.”
What the Grahams had, back in 1963, is
recorded in Ezra Stoller’s photographs (those
luminous shots that ran in papers and online in lieu
of the pre-demolition reality: broken windows, stripped
drywall). In Stoller’s photos, like the one featured
in the preceding spread, we find a gorgeous multilevel
house, descending in parcels of glass and raw wood down
a rocky cliff. Inside, highlighted by late-afternoon
sun, three figures are lounging, at ease with the masterpiece
surrounding them. The photo again raises the question:
how can private property be reconciled with a public
heritage?
As for Shiraz Lalji, he may turn out to
be no greater a villain than your average rich man who
is used to having his own way. The material issue is
whether we have a mechanism in place to
protect Vancouver’s architectural inheritance.
Do we, as a city, even know what we have? The Graham
house debacle exposed our collective confusion.
West Vancouver’s senior city planner,
Stephen Mikicich, told the papers he can only work to
save heritage homes “by the tools that are available
to us.” Rather than indulging in reactionary griping
about big bad developers—or chaining ourselves
to run-down houses, as one activist did this winter—let’s
get ourselves some sharper tools.
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