As I wrote about a few times this past Fall, one of the homiest neighbourhoods in Toronto for me is the Junction Triangle. I won’t go over the ultimately poetic reasons again, but there are also more mundane things that really pull me in. One of those is one of my favourite examples of buildings being integrated with infrastructure is the warehouse on Bloor built into the first of the two subways (underpasses) in the area. I should note that in the time I’ve been researching this, the good folks on the Urban Toronto discussion boards have also been sleuthing the same underpass.
Category: Civic & Infrastructure
Views: Carleton’s University Centre From Above (1963-2015)
I’ve never hidden my love for the modernist campus of Carleton University. That its Rideau Campus was designed from the get-go as a modern departure from the Oxford-Lite or Harvard-Lite approach that most Canadian universities up to that point had taken was not only a breath of fresh air, but a bold and confident step in an Ottawa that was not always known for such things.1For an interesting history of Carleton, see H. Blair Neatby and Don McKeown. Creating Carleton: The Shaping of a University. Montréal & Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2002.
Continue reading Views: Carleton’s University Centre From Above (1963-2015)
Notes
↥1 | For an interesting history of Carleton, see H. Blair Neatby and Don McKeown. Creating Carleton: The Shaping of a University. Montréal & Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2002. |
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Update: Porcupine General Hospital (1938) and the Tisdale Municipal Building (1940)
Almost two weeks ago, I wrote a short story about the Tisdale Municipal Building in South Porcupine. While I was able to get an architect and speak a little about the context, that was about as far as it went. If you’ve followed along on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram, you’ll see that I’ve just returned from a trip to Toronto, where I spent time at the Archives of Ontario. While I was there to do some research for my thesis, I took the opportunity to peruse some of the pages of the Porcupine Advance.
Continue reading Update: Porcupine General Hospital (1938) and the Tisdale Municipal Building (1940)
Tisdale Municipal Building (1940)
When I was growing up in South Porcupine, the Tisdale Municipal Building was always an interesting one. The white stucco, though worn by the 1980s, glistened defiantly in the sunlight. When I would walk the single block from my family’s Bloor Avenue apartment with my mom, she’d often point out that my grandfather had worked out of an office in there in property assessment.1Brian Ehman. See Diane Armstrong. “A Proud Community,” Timmins Times, July 27, 2011. When I began to notice the building, it was more than a decade past Tisdale Township’s amalgamation into the City of Timmins2See John Slinger. “1,000 square miles: Timmins biggest city in McKeough plans,” Globe and Mail, June 13, 1972, p. 1; “New challenge for Timmins,” Globe and Mail, October 9, 1972, p. 6. and after hosting the new city’s engineering department for a short period, it was sold off and converted into apartments.
Continue reading Tisdale Municipal Building (1940)
Notes
↥1 | Brian Ehman. See Diane Armstrong. “A Proud Community,” Timmins Times, July 27, 2011. |
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↥2 | See John Slinger. “1,000 square miles: Timmins biggest city in McKeough plans,” Globe and Mail, June 13, 1972, p. 1; “New challenge for Timmins,” Globe and Mail, October 9, 1972, p. 6. |
“The building is a blob. It makes Regina airport look exciting.” (Ottawa’s Waller Police Station, 1954)
Midcentury Modern. Modernism. International Style. Whatever one’s choice term to describe the style of architecture, the road to recognition of buildings in the style as being worthy of preservation on a heritage basis has been a long one and the journey is far from over. Today, most would still take one look at the building above and fail to shed a tear over its 1994 demolition. Even among those who were present to advocate for its preservation, the arguments usually had more to do with who designed it than they did with what it was.
Borrowing The Mall
It’s a Library and it’s an Archive and it’s My Favourite
Maligned by some, I have never hidden my love for the Library and Archives building at 395 Wellington. I’ve always found Alvan Mathers’ design for the building to be both monumental and welcoming at the same time. To my eye it is certainly a “building befitting, in design and size, the dignity of the Dominion and the importance of the undertaking” of a National Library (and Archive).1F. Dolores Donnelly. The National Library of Canada (Ottawa: Canadian Library Association, 1973): 41.
Continue reading It’s a Library and it’s an Archive and it’s My Favourite
Notes
↥1 | F. Dolores Donnelly. The National Library of Canada (Ottawa: Canadian Library Association, 1973): 41. |
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Insulting Infrastructure
“An insult to the Greber Plan”
1950. 1950. 1950. 1950 was a major year for Ottawa. In addition to a rate and scale of (sub)urban growth that was entirely without precedent, the City of Ottawa had just put the finishing touches on an annexation of major swaths of Nepean and Gloucester Townships.
Of the many stories that can be told about such times of rapid change and development, one of the lesser-appreciated ones concerns infrastructure and the often problematic habit we have of building outside the serviced area in our efforts to depress development costs while simultaneously being (logically) unwilling to engage in meaningful preparatory build-out. The need for – and commotion over – the Island Park (Carling Avenue) Water Tower seems as good an illustration as any.
For any number of reasons, the Great Depression wasn’t as unkind to Ottawa as it was to other cities in Canada. In part thanks to the development of entirely new bureaucracies to manage the very necessary relief programs, Ottawa found itself in something of a housing shortage. While much of this was concentrated in the downtown area, areas such as Elmdale, Ottawa East, and the Civic Hospital experienced tremendous build-out during the Depression and Second World War.
Had that miniature construction boom been where the story ended, Ottawa’s then aging and substandard water infrastructure would have still been unable to service the residents that it did – let alone any additional large-scale developments. Indeed, a rather large number of lots in these outlying areas were, for all intents and purposes, unserviced. Well water and septic systems in dense neighbourhoods were worrying enough for the Health Department but at least those homes had the basics. There were a worrying number of homes that were serviced, at least in theory, but turning on the taps often resulted in little more than a trickle. A rather large number of homes for sale advertised pumping systems.
There was also the very problematic issue of fire services often being left with too little pressure to fight fires with. On more than one occasion in the 1930s and 1940s, pressure to the fire hydrants in these new outlying areas was far too weak and homes and businesses were lost as a result.
If all of that was not enough, development outside of Ottawa’s borders had picked up considerably. Nepean Township had come to experience a similar rate of development and, much like Eastview and Gloucester, had cut a deal with Ottawa to purchase water service. By the mid-1940s, Ottawa was having difficulties supplying residents of Nepean with water and they were placed under lawn watering restrictions. Not that they felt that they were receiving adequate service anyway.
In 1948, Ottawa’s Water Works Department constructed a booster pump on Carling Avenue at the foot of Sherwood (demolished in 2003-04). Reportedly under the assumption that much of the Elmdale/Civic/Island Park area’s water pressure issue was related to its relatively elevated topographical position, it was thought that the pump would solve the problem. At least this is how it was occasionally spun in the press when reporting on local grievances.
Suffice to say, while the diminutive brick pile would have been preferred by locals, it was only the first phase of a dramatic expansion of the city’s water system. City Hall watchers, who had read the Gore-Storrie Report, knew that the city’s west end was not only about to get a water tower, but also the Carlington Heights Reservoir.
Commensurate with what was outlined in Gore-Storrie, at the end of 1948 the Water Works Department issued a call for tenders for the construction of one 750,000 gallon water tower to be located on the northern edge of the Royal Ottawa Sanatorium’s property.
According to the Water Works Department’s 1949 Annual Report, only a single bid was received: from Horton Steel Works, the dominant player in water towers. Council approved the contract on February 7, city workers prepared the site through the summer months, and Horton began to erect the tower on December 13. It was expected that the tower would be complete in April 1950.
It was only when Horton began to erect the steel tower that Island Park residents became opposed. It probably did not help that the tower, until completion, was a more natural rusty colour. As John Dalrymple of the Journal reported:
It’s unprintable.
To irritated residents of Island Park Drive, over whose homes it soars like a giant sun-shade, it is ‘that unprintable plumbing fixture.’
Since the start of construction of the $210,000 project last December 20, neighbourhood residents have watched, first with mild interest and then with growing curiosity as the weird structure began to take shape.
Abstract curiosity gave way to alarm as it grew higher and higher, finally rearing into view over the house-tops, dominating the model homes and million dollar Federal District Commission Drive.
Although widely publicized since it was first conceived in 1946, many annoyed home-owners in the area claim that it was only in the past few weeks they had discovered what the project was, believing at first that it was some kind of addition to the Royal Ottawa Sanitorium, which it adjoins.
John Dalrymple, “Monstrous Skeleton Haunts Island Park,” Ottawa Journal, February 3, 1950, Page 3.
One of the interesting points to the Journal’s reporting through the whole ordeal is that it was clear that the paper was very much in favour of the project as it was being implemented. The complaints of Island Park’s residents did not seem to actually curry much sympathy in the pages of the paper. For example, in the same story quoted from above, Dalrymple notes that it was mentioned in the papers no less than 14 times in 1948 when it was decided upon. Furthermore, the site was the only suitable one that fulfilled all of the engineering needs of such a project. Given that in the summer months, the Lemieux Island pumping station’s 42 million gallon pumping capability was well short of demand, it only made sense that the project had to be seen through.
Nevertheless, the opposition quickly organized, and by March a group of Island Park residents was set to present their complaints to City Council. In looking back at these complaints, it becomes clear that terms like “eyesore” and “monstrosity” have always been quickly deployed. One unnamed resident of the area even characterized the water tower “an insult to the Greber Plan.” (!)
Once their objections were brought before the Board of Control, it was over. The Board was completely in support of the plan as it was being implemented and they were not going to climb down. For them it was as much a matter of absolute need as it was annoyance with the timing of the neighbourhood group. Controller Pickering lambasted them, suggesting that “if [they] were too busy to take an interest in civic affairs at that time, don’t blame us now.”
There was one compromise, however. Rather than the silver-coloured aluminum paint finish that it was to have in the original design, it was going to be painted “a neutral colour, probably one used extensively in highway bridges, notably the Ivy Lea international span.”
As noted above, the Journal was quite vocal about the Island Park residents’ complaints. Following the Island Park residents’ loss at the Board of Control and the general quieting of the opposition, the paper published a number of articles and editorials dismissing the complaints.
Ultimately, the grey-green (almost looks like Cambridge Blue) paint did have a sort of camouflaging effect it seems. Once it became clear that the Island Park water tower was in reality more or less as camouflaged as it could be, objections were quieted and withdrawn for the other planned towers, including the one planned for Alta-Vista.
The Island Park water tower was officially put into operation on June 15, 1950 and while the Civic Hospital immediate received a much-needed increase in water pressure, the Citizen reported that when asked, surrounding residents hadn’t noticed much difference in their water pressure.
While those in the immediate surrounding area didn’t notice much change in pressure, Westboro’s residents did. Once their water main was connected to the tower it was calculated that they would receive a much-needed additional 15 pounds of pressure. Much like the nearby residents, they too didn’t notice much difference. In Westboro’s case, however, it was because their water main broke under the intersection of Richmond and Churchill, losing 500,000 gallons of water in the process. A combination of frost damage and additional pressure were thought to have caused the break.
The implementation of the Gore-Storrie Report was ultimately successful and the City of Ottawa was able to fulfill the water requirements of not only its own residents in the older parts of the city, but also the newly-annexed parts of Nepean and Gloucester Townships. It also allowed the sprawling suburban development to continue at the clip desired and, as time went on, even the homes that were without service, received it.
As the city’s water system was upgraded and modernized over the years, the water towers constructed in the 1950s became unnecessary. The one at Island Park was dismantled in 1989. At nearly 40 years old, its dismantling does not appear to have either been celebrated or lamented. Looking at the Lost Ottawa Facebook Group, it does appear to factor in the memories of thousands of Ottawans, however.
Nothing but clear skies now.
The Battle of Public Literacy and Public Finance
For a city that truly values literacy, it has always been a curious thing to me that Ottawa has something of a strange ambivalence when it comes to the construction and funding of public libraries. To be certain, the Ottawa Public Library system is most certainly something to be proud of. Well-run and generally balanced across the entire city, the network is well-used and highly popular.
At the same time, we’ve retained many of the old “ratepayers’ objections” to any adequate outlays right to this day. Our dedication to literacy is never exceeded by our dedication to thrift. Of course, the definition and operation of the two terms are now and have always been, highly subjective and will be used accordingly by everyone who ventures into the issue.
Nevertheless, I was looking through the May 19, 1954 edition of the Ottawa Journal and happened across this gem:
Essentially, the original 1906 Carnegie Ottawa Public Library was considered too small almost as soon as the doors opened. When you consider that it was too small and crowded for at least 40 years before this article was written – and another 20 until the version we have today was completed, you’d think the desire to not repeat past mistakes would be strong.
It has been called the ugliest building in Ottawa, a text-book example of “brutalist” architecture. Perhaps it is even the “least beautiful, least functional” building of its kind in Canada.
Mayor Bob Chiarelli calls it simply, and tactfully, taking care not even to insult a building: “inadequate in most every way.”
Welcome to the main branch of the Ottawa Public Library.
It’s an embarrassment, really, there is no other word that can properly describe Ottawa’s main library. Located at 120 Metcalfe St., it is a near-windowless, multi-tiered, pillar-obstructed, earth- tone-painted, soul-deadening monstrosity that has all the warmth and charm of a warehouse.
In addition to that (maybe it’s a blessing) it’s too small.
Ottawa’s main library opened in 1974, to service a city of 300,000. Even before amalgamation, the 80,000-square-foot building had become too small. Now, the main branch is expected to service a city of more than 700,000. The only saving grace in all this — the only way a problem is averted — is that the main branch is so damn ugly, not many people want to go there.
“When we started researching it, we discovered the branch was built in an architectural style called “brutalism,” remembers Barbara Clubb, chief librarian for the Ottawa Public Library. “In this particular case, at least, there is truth in advertising.”
Ottawa has, according to Ms. Clubb, the “least beautiful, least functional” main library in Canada. (That’s polite librarian talk, by the way, for “ugly and useless.”)
[emphasis mine] Ron Corbett, Ottawa Citizen, January 24, 2001, Page D1
Strong words, of course, and ones that were somewhat unfair to its architect, George E. Bemi (though I’ve personally not warmed up to the Brutalist aesthetic). In an interview with Maria Cook, it became clear that the same thread ran through his project as well: funding. Like the music teacher, library funding is often among the earlier ones to go when the greater economy becomes less certain. It always seems to feel like a frill, luxury, or option.
“Some would say the library started off too small,” says Ms. Clubb. “Everything gets kind of squished. Within a couple of years, they had to move a bunch of services out into this tower over the building.”
Trevor Boddy, a former Carleton University architecture professor and now a Vancouver-based architectural critic and historian, agrees.
Originally from Edmonton, Mr. Boddy recalls that his home town built a “much bigger, much better” library as a 1967 Centennial project. “Ottawa was always kind of undersized and lacking in vision.”
“I think the criticism is fair in the sense it’s too small now,” says Mr. Bemi. “We always knew that computers were going to come along, but we underestimated the amount of it. We feel the computer areas are too small and need space.”
And although Mr. Bemi did make the building accessible — people with wheelchairs enter a side door onto the first level and then use the elevator — it was always considered a weakness, especially since the circulation desk could only be reached by climbing stairs.
Critics have pointed to the one-way escalator and single elevator for people and freight. These were not his fault, says Mr. Bemi, but the result of a tight budget. “We would have probably put in a two- way escalator, but there wasn’t money for that sort of thing.”
[emphasis mine] Maria Cook, Ottawa Citizen, May 6, 2002, Page D1
And so it goes. Discussions have come and gone and will come and go again at a later date. I suspect that we can predict with astonishing precision just how the discussions will progress.
Update: Yup
…
But Harder, a long-time advocate for public libraries, believes the $70-million price tag is a non-starter.
“I’m just not sure that’s the wisest expenditure of taxpayer dollars in this location,” said Harder. She points out that in 20 years, the ownership of the entire property at Laurier and Metcalfe will revert back to the city, at which time the city could sell the land or redevelop it in another way.
Harder is right. At $70 million — and likely more, as this is a basic estimate that can be off by as much as 30 per cent — this city must start a serious discussion about the possibility of building a new library.
Consider the new central library in Halifax scheduled to open later this year (and already named by CNN as one of 2014′s most “eye-popping”new buildings): the cost for the new building is about $58 million. Although at 108,000 square-feet, the East Coast library is slightly smaller than the 130,000 we’re looking for here in Ottawa, the build-from-scratch project is also costing significantly less than the estimate to rebuild ours.
There are those who will balk at the idea of a possible private partnership to build a new library. That’s a discussion worth having. But it’s more important that we do something about the eyesore that is the downtown central library. And Monday is the day to re-start that debate.
[emphasis mine] Joanne Chianello, Ottawa Citizen, July 7, 2014.
Midcentury Gothic Revival Workout
It has been quite some time since I wrote anything, so it’s time to get back on that horse. What better way than to begin with a very short hit.
The gymnasium (or South Building) at Lisgar Collegiate blends (at least to my less-than-honed eye) the pleasingly clean sensibilities of midcentury modern design with the existing Gothic Revival style of Lisgar’s main building. Designed by A.J. Hazelgrove and J. Albert Ewart, the gymnasium was constructed in 1952 and was part of the Collegiate Board’s plans to expand their facilities to serve the growing population in Ottawa. When it, along with Fisher Park High School, was planned in 1948, it had more to do with the then-impending annexation by Ottawa of large swaths of Gloucester and Nepean Townships than it did with population growth. On another occasion, I will see that the issues surrounding it (the 1950 Annexation) are well fleshed out.
That makes three long-standing long-form articles now: my version of Chinese Democracy. Hopefully nowhere near as disappointing.
Fire Station No. 6
Ottawa’s built-up areas have undergone a rather dramatic transformation in the last few decades. Although most popular discussions may sound more like “I remember when those were fields” or “we used to play on those rocks”, there are a number of areas in Ottawa that were either returned to fallow or converted into park land. Lebreton Flats [1] is easily the most famous example and the former CFB Rockliffe (CFB Ottawa North) is the most recent notable example of what was once a settled part of the city being now (largely) deserted. Although it never did reach that extent and may not be considered to be the same, the three blocks along Sussex Drive between Stanley Avenue and MacKay St. are nevertheless considerably more verdant than they were a short forty years ago.
For long-time residents of New Edinburgh, this history is no secret. Once the site of numerous mills and other industrial activity, the neighbourhood of the Prime Minister, Embassies of France, South Africa, Spain, and Vietnam, and the Governor General is now almost entirely residential. There are numerous industrial, commercial, civic, and institutional organizations that once called this part of Ottawa home and I hope to explore them in turn. Today, however, I’d like to present a short discussion of Fire Station No. 6.
The Fire Station No. 6 that is pictured above and to the right was not the first version. The 1888 Goad’s Insurance Plan of Ottawa (1901 Revision) shows the No. 6 Fire Station at 37 Sussex, in between a confectionery and a hotel and sharing a block with the Ottawa Street Railway Company’s car shed and – at the time – stables, hay storage, and oat storage. I have yet to find an image of the original facility.
On July 25, 1907, a fire broke out at the W.C.Edwards & Co. factory and planing mill across the street. [2] The fire caused what was “conservatively estimated” to be $350,000 ($7.1 million+ today) in damage. [3] In addition to Edwards’ numerous facilities, the fire destroyed C.J. Neate’s grocery, Michael Foley’s Rideau Hotel, and the Blackburn Mica Factory. Fire Station No. 6 was also lost. This was not considered to be a major loss as, while it was in good condition, it was “one of the oldest, having been erected when New Edinburgh was annexed to the city.” [4]
The 1902 Goad’s Insurance Plan of Ottawa (1912 Revision) shows that the new No. 6 Fire Station was enlarged considerably, taking over the nieghbouring lot formerly occupied by the Rideau Hotel.
It does not appear that the new station was designed with permanence in mind, however. Within the next couple of decades, the station was considered to be too small, ill-equipped [5], and in a location that rendered its ability to protect Ottawa from fires ineffective. [6] The 1929 Ottawa Sewer Explosion, which tore through the city along with the destruction by fire of City Hall in 1931 may have shown the inadequacy of the city’s emergency services and shortcomings of its political fragmentation. [7] Of course, it may also be understood that the Depression made such expenditures both politically and functional difficult.
A report in the Citizen appears to have implied that the fire Chief had been advocating for a new facility for some time. By 1935, the city had already secured permission from the Province to issue a $20,000 debenture ($340,000 today), pending the sale of the old station, in order to construct a replacement in a better location. [8] Discussions took place in the following year, with the potential site for the new No. 6 being on three city-owned lots at the corner of MacKay and Vaughan (precisely where it was constructed) being suggested by Alderman S.S. Slinn. [9]
With the election of a new City Council in 1936 [10], the Fire Department’s pleas for a new station began to gain more traction. [11] On September 1, 1937, the Board of Control, on the advice of Mayor J.E. Stanley Lewis, recommended that Council proceed with the issuance of a $20,000 debenture for that purpose. [12] The following week, City Council approved it themselves. [13] The Ontario Municipal Board approved the issuance of the debenture. Planning then commenced for the construction of the new Fire Station No. 6, at the corner of Mackay and Vaughan, as Council had discussed nearly two years prior. [14, 15]
While the previous condition of selling the now old No. 6 on Sussex was off the table, it nevertheless remained surplus and a potential source of revenue for the city. Unsurprisingly, the asset turned out to be difficult for the city to divest itself of. When Canada joined the Second World War on September 10, 1939, the Dominion Government began to construct and expropriate buildings across the city in support of the war effort. Perhaps sensing an opportunity, Controller Finley McRae recommended that perhaps the now empty No. 6 would be of use. Of course, the Dominion could have it, with the “same consideration and compensation given to any other city.” [16] As it would turn out, the Dominion would have a use for it: in the Spring of 1941, it became the new wartime headquarters of the No. 1 Ordnance Store Co., Royal Canadian Ordnance Corps Reserve Army. [17]
Once the war was over, the building was once again surplus. Once again, however, the building found a new purpose. The conversion from Fire Station to Ordnance Corps headquarters left it in better shape and potentially of more utility. On June 1, 1954, the Ottawa Valley Nursing Assistants Centre opened its doors. [18] Its mission was to alleviate the shortage of Nurses that existed in Ontario and train girls with only their Grade 8 certificate to become a Nursing Assistant. This would reduce the pressure on the Registered Nurses working in hospitals, nursing homes, and the VON. An article in the Ottawa Citizen characterized the facility as a “miniature hospital.” [19]
I have been unable to locate when the Nursing Assistants Centre closed its doors. It does not appear that it remained in the old fire house for long, however. Although it was still advertising in 1958, it appears that the Province abruptly cut funding to the facility. On September 9 of that year, Charlotte Whitton, using her column On Thinking It Over, pleaded for a stay of execution, characterized the move as “drastic“, and concluded with a suggestion that it was a poor political move “with an Ontario electing in the offing and Her Majesty coming and all.” [20] It seems that the two classes which were in progress were able to complete, and during that time, there may have been some reconsideration as additional classes graduated.
By 1965, however, most of the lot had been cleared.
[1] Jenkins, Phil (1996). An Acre of Time. Toronto: Macfarlane, Walter, and Ross.
[2] “Early Morning Blaze at Edwards’ Mill Costs $350,000.” Ottawa Citizen. July 25, 1907, p. 1. (Part 1, 2, 3, and 4).
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] “Court Costs Of Sewer Explosion Case $7,501.72.” Ottawa Citizen. May 30, 1934, p. 4.
[6] “Fire Chief Sees Parking Danger On Sparks Now.” Ottawa Evening Citizen. February 6, 1935, p. 1.
[7] Taylor, John H. (2001). “Engineering, audit, and fire: Governance and modernity in depression Ottawa,” in Keshen, Jeff; St-Onge, Nicole. Ottawa: Making a Capital. University of Ottawa Press. pp. 333–345.
[8] “Con. Lewis Secures Action On Scheme, Engineers to Report.” Ottawa Citizen. July 17, 1935, p. 4.
[9] “Proposed as Site for New No. 6 Fire Station.” The Evening Citizen. December 15, 1936, p. 9.
[10] Taylor (2001), pp. 344-45.
[11] “Sons Replace Fathers Who Are Incapacitated On City Fire Brigade.” Ottawa Evening Citizen. May 5, 1937, p. 5.
[12] “Board Recommends Debenture to Build New Fire Station.” Ottawa Citizen. September 1, 1937, p. 5.
[13] “Council Approves Pension Fund For Staff of Library.” Ottawa Citizen. September 8, 1937, p. 5.
[14] “Discuss Plans For New Fire Station To Replace No. 6.” Ottawa Evening Citizen. February 22, 1938, p. 18.
[15] I intend to discuss the construction and tenure of the New New No. 6 at a later date.
[16] “Asks Have Government Pay for All Buildings.” Ottawa Evening Citizen. October 27, 1939, p. 13.
[17] “Mobilizing Field Park Units For Active Duty.” The Evening Citizen. March 12, 1941, p. 17.
[18] “Nursing Assistants Train In Old Fire Hall.” Ottawa Citizen. June 10, 1954.
[19] Mackay, Jeanne. “Nursing Assistants’ Course Opens Door To Wider Field.” Ottawa Citizen. January 6, 1956, p. 24.
[20] Whitton, Charlotte. “To Ontario’s Health Minister.” Ottawa Citizen. September 9, 1958. (Part 1 and 2).