Inearly 1974 I found myself shouldering an unexpected responsibility, which a full-time position, that I had with WZMH Architects, could notgive me. I spoke about this to one of the partners and with his support I approached Mr. George Mann, an established Canadian entrepreneur.
Theoutcome of that brief meeting resulted in being given the task of aesthetically improving the facade of a building that was about to beconstructed.
Ileft his office thrilled at the prospect of a ‘project’ and of its location: Yonge Street, Toronto’s pre-eminent road. I walked over to the site, and Iwas confronted with modest, but abandoned wooden houses that filled almost entire block. I unrolled the drawings that Mr. Mann gave me, andIwas immediately struck by the fortress-like wall proposed along Yonge Street. The emphasis was of a severe uniformity without a hint of urbancivics, emitting a definite bias towards shopping and life on the street.
How to aestheticize the brutal wall imposed doubts on my limited design knowledge acquired during my few formative years. The immediate excitement soon dissipated intonothingness.
Fearfulof losing a job but more apprehensive of abandoning my nascent design beliefs I sketched out a potentialsolution that veered away from the ‘commissioned’ task. The structuring elements were a porticoalong Yonge Street and a covered ‘arcade’ connected to the public parking area. These two elementsbecame the mitigators of the invisible line separating the public and private realms. A sort of third real: anoutdoor social space, offering scale, character, meaning and protection against the inclement weather that pervades northern climates.
Somewhatapprehensively I brought the sketches ot Mr. Mann with handwritten notes and after studying the sketches, he took the roll ofdrawings of the approved plans and placed it in the garbage bin and said: “I like the idea of providing protected exterior spaces, a sort ofcivicphilanthropy. Go and develop your sketches while I evaluate – you will be rewarded accordingly.” I was elated and went back home andbegan working earnestly in exploring and developing the ideas I had so quickly sketched on those few pieces of foolscap paper.
Two weeks later I returned to Mr. Mann’s office with a full presentation. For each of the two level of retail along Yonge Street, I envisioned a vetrina (display window) and an entrance area directly from the portico. I placed smaller retail spaces along the ‘arcade’ intensifying the pedestrian experience. A lower level and a second-floor retail completed the ‘arcade,’ both visible and accessible by stairs, escalators, and elevators. The arcade was covered with a continuous skylight, a poor man’s galleria, but a galleria nonetheless. The second floor along Yonge Street was dedicated to office space.
Under the portico I proposed a tunnel that would replace the infrastructure required to service the proposed building. I had witnessed the hardship and difficulty of immigrant men digging streets in all seasons to install, repair and maintain the underground services. Certainly, there must be a better way I thought.
The project became known as DELISLE COURT. Since I was not yet a registered architect, H. Sellaste was retained as the architect of record. The final design incorporated almost all of the ideas except the ‘portico’ and the service corridor.
The fee that I received for my contribution paid for my education at the Graduate School of Design at Harvard University.
