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Shannon Corregan: Save memories, not a decrepit building

Victoria is an extremely civic-minded city. Compared to other places I’ve lived, Victorians invest an incredible amount of time, energy and money in the well-being of our community and its infrastructure.

Victoria is an extremely civic-minded city. Compared to other places I’ve lived, Victorians invest an incredible amount of time, energy and money in the well-being of our community and its infrastructure.

We care deeply about our city’s beauty and cleanliness — although that’s not so surprising, given that our tourist industry contributes more than a billion dollars a year to our economy.

But we also care about the character of our city. For the most part, Victoria isn’t a place of arbitrary street names and anonymous-looking buildings. Our buildings are imbued with meaning and history, and for many of us, the fond memories we’ve accrued in these places are more important than the question of whether or not something looks good. The buildings we know and love are valuable, and often worth protecting.

These are the arguments that defenders of the Turner building are putting forth in the wake of a report to Victoria council, which is recommending that the aged building be demolished out of concern for public safety.

The Turner building was previously home to Ian’s Jubilee Coffee Stop, which had been in operation from 1937 to 2000, according to the sign inside its window. The building has been out of commission for 13 years, however, and is a crumbling, boarded-up mess, taking up a valuable chunk of real estate on the corner of Richmond Road and Birch Street.

As a veteran employee of the area, I’m familiar with the Turner building as both a romantic testament to the tenacity of small, beloved businesses, and as a public eyesore. Romantic, because the oddly shaped building has been standing derelict for so long.

You can tell that at least one of its owners cares deeply enough about it to want to hold onto it. One of its boarded-up windows features a Pepsi letter board, some of the letters falling off, thanking its past patrons. The message speaks of happier times, long gone. Nostalgic fans of Ian’s have been creating Facebook pages and drumming up money to save the building; clearly this is a building and a business that meant a lot to people.

I’m simultaneously frustrated by this situation, though, because despite the nostalgia and the laments of the people to whom Ian’s was clearly important (presumably back when the building wasn’t shedding shingles onto the sidewalk), wouldn’t it be nice if we could build something there that was … I don’t know, nice?

In the time that building has been standing boarded up, we could have had a new restaurant there, or a craft store, or a café, or a bakery, or a bookstore. Any choice would have made that space more productive and profitable than keeping it vacant for all this time. That building has been standing empty for 13 years and nothing has been done with it. Whatever combination of tenacity, bylaws and luck allowed it to continue standing there for so long, empty and unused, we’re finally facing the fact that the building’s safety is compromised. And when public safety is at stake, it’s time to reconsider whether nostalgia alone is sufficient reason to want to save something.

I know how hard it is when something you love is facing extinction, but looking at this situation logically, it’s time for this building and its legacy to come to an end. It’s been sitting there for 13 years — 13 years of an empty building contributing nothing to the neighbourhood, slowly becoming an eyesore, and now a public danger. Thirteen years is more than enough time. It’s too bad that the building ended up in such condition that demolition is the best option, but it’s also too bad that something wasn’t done to prevent this five years ago, or 10 or 13. We’re past the point of no return.

In fact, the building itself is maybe not what’s important.

Maybe the more important thing is that people had good memories there — memories that couldn’t be replicated even if the building were to be saved, and which won’t be lost even if it were to be knocked down.

In the meantime, it’s taking up space where someone else’s business could have been thriving and growing all this time, making new, happy memories for other people, and providing services to the area.