The Laurelridge: Harold C. Beckett

The [Ottawa] Evening Citizen, 28 April 1947

   This drawing and its accompanying text appeared in the same issue (indeed on the same page) as the advertisement for the Rideau Gardens Annex lots featured in the previous post.

   Before the advent of the the pre-built suburb, magazines and newspapers regularly featured house plans aimed at young couples looking to become first-time home owners — which, in times of scarcity,  meant building your own. These placements didn't actually offer enough information to be of much help to the novice builder, but the article would usually provide contact information so that one could order detailed working plans from the designer. It was like a home seamstress working from a Butterick pattern — only larger, and probably less often.

   This example from the Ottawa Citizen features the work of Harold Champ Beckett, Architect (1890-1970). You can read all about his work here. Of this design Mr. Beckett writes...

    The popularity of early Colonial architecture has deservedly endured since the days when the beginnings of our Eastern cities were being hewed out of a primitive wilderness. Throughout the New England States and Maritime Provinces are houses dating back to the 18th century which possess the distinctive charm that goes with good design and and detail. Our forefathers found that the characteristics of the basic materials which go into building, consisting of lumber, brick and stone. [I’m sorry, I realize that isn’t a sentence.] Scientific advances of our present era have not bettered their use though present construction methods are somewhat different.
   The “Laurelridge” is a very economical two storey design containing 3 fair sized bedrooms. These are all over National Housing Act minimum, with large closets. Total first floor area is 580 square feet and the cubage is 16,016 feet.
   Exterior materials are brick to belt course with cedar siding above. The large living room bay is roofed by a second floor overhang. This increases area in bedrooms and produces a strong horizontal shadow line.
   This is another house suggestion proposed for readers of The Evening Citizen by Harold C. Beckett, M.R.A.I.C. 52 Chatam St. West, Windsor, Ontario.

Lots of Lots!

The (Ottawa) Evening Citizen,  28 April 1947

   The date of this ad  for the Rideau Gardens Annex (at the south end of "Old" Ottawa East) is noteworthy. In 1947, construction began on a new kind of suburb in Nassau County Long Island. It was called Levittown and it would be hailed as North America's prototype mass-produced, post-war suburb.  In a few short years, the Levittown model would make ads like the one above obsolete.

   Before Levittown, a subdivision was simply an area of surveyed land. The "subdivider" would clear (I did not say "pave") roads and (hopefully) arrange for electricity and ditches. Home-building, well-digging and septic-tanking fell to the buyer.  Berthiaume Realty's ad, with its cute little poem, is a snapshot of the old normal. The empty subdivision was already falling out of fashion, to be replaced by the massively more convenient, pre-built development.

   This neighbourhood abuts the south end of Main Street and features some striking mid-century suburban homes, including split-levels and bungalows with iconic car-ports.  The streets are quiet, the trees mature.  Most of the street-names shown here are still being used. Marlowe Crescent (at the top of the map) provides access to a pre-war enclave called Brantwood Place. Bullock Avenue no longer connects to Main Street and the latter has doubled in width.  Rideau Drive is now Rideau Garden Drive. And then there's the boulevard, actually a hydro corridor, bisecting the Annex...

   As we prepare to celebrate Canada's 150th birthday,  let's recall our Centennial year. Expo '67 had pavilions and monorails. Everybody had a Centennial Project. "I'm gonna be a maple tree." That horrid song ("Now we are twenty-million!") 1967 was also the year that France's war hero, General Charles de Gaulle, visited Canada.

   I remember the 24th of July as a perfect summer's day. I wanted to play outside but my mother insisted that my father and I stay home for a few minutes "to watch history being made."  De Gaulle was about to address the people of Montreal. The three of us sat in our basement rec-room, staring at the screen of a black & white Electrohome TV while, 100 miles away, a slow-motion train wreck unfolded for all of Canada to see.

   Seldom do the mighty fall so far so fast. With those four words, "Vive le Québec libre!" our jaws dropped as one. De Gaulle was hustled out of the country. The British press labeled him a buffoon.  The US smelled a plot to divide North America. Even the French government took pains to distance itself from the old man's gaucherie.

  Which brings us to this Ottawa Journal article, dated 26 July 1967, just two days after the morning in question. It's about that boulevard/ hydro corridor, the one that slashes the Rideau Gardens Annex in half...

Name Change Sought

   A  non-separatist, pro-Canadian Englishman feels badly enough these days. But what if he happens to live on a street called de Gaulle Boulevard?
   Gordon Hamilton, [of] 14 de Gaulle Bouldevard, would like to have the street name changed. And he’ll ask some 40 other residents on his street to petition the Street Name Committee at City Hall for a name change.
   “I’m anti-separatist and pro-Canada and not only English Canadians but a lot of French Canadians are against what General de Gaulle is saying” says the 22-year-old Mr. Hamilton, who is married and lives in a 1½ storey home on the short residential street near Riverdale Avenue in Rideau Gardens.
   Mr. Hamilton spoke to ten de Gaulle Boulevard residents and found that nine of them were willing to sign a petition to have the street named changed. He will set out Wednesday to get signatures from all residents.
   There is an extra little submission in the petition, requesting that de Gaulle  Boulevard might be given the new name of Centennial Boulevard.

 *     *     *

   I would be remiss if I were to leave anyone with the impression that Levittown NY was somehow the primary cause of the rise of the merchant builder and the pre-fab suburb. Levittown was a watershed moment, the signifier of an inevitable transition, spurred by population growth and made possible by emerging assembly-line approaches to building.

   War-time and post-war agencies (themselves born of Depression-era  policy) gave rise to our CMHC, as they did to corresponding American bodies. These offices set building standards and provided financing for affordable single-family homes at the very time when assistance and oversight was needed most. Yes Virginia, sometimes bureaucracies actually do work.

   Angella Hercules Stevenson has written a lucid introduction to the subject as it applied both here and in the United States. She discusses Levitton at some length, and cites Don Mills (Toronto) and Ottawa's own Manor Park as early examples of post-war development. You can read her work in pdf form here.

180 Metcalfe Street

 Of this Art Deco gem, Robert Smythe writes (Centretown Buzz, 24 July 2015)...

"...The Medical Arts Building (designed by architects Noffke, Sylvester and Morin in 1928) is the quintessential 1920s skyscraper in miniature. It was built, owned and managed by a holding company—the principal shareholders of which were the doctors themselves.
The 50 medical offices were quickly filled. On-site services included two surgery suites, a radiology clinic, pharmacy and branch of the Bank of Nova Scotia.
Although it was designed to have an extension of a further three floors, with the intervening Great Depression and World War II this never happened..."

 You can read Robert's complete article here. He addresses the bizarre attempts to incorporate this six storey building into a 27 storey office/condo/hotel whatever.

Roderick Lahey / Toth Equity, via the Ottawa Citizen

 I recently found another unnerving story, set at the Medical Arts Building, dating from spring of 1947 — shades of The Bad Seed. The following Ottawa Journal article is lightly edited for style. I have redacted the names and the address of the victim and her family to protect their privacy.

Ottawa Boy Causes Grave Injury to Infant in Fall From Ledge
Pulls Child from Carriage and She Suffers Fractured Skull

   Pulled out of her carriage by an eight-year-old boy in front of the Medical Arts Building, 180 Metcalfe street, at four o’clock yesterday afternoon and shoved from a four-and-a-half foot high cement ledge to the pavement below, eight-months-old _____, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. _____ of _____ street, is in the Civic Hospital suffering from a skull fracture and shock.
   Civic Hospital authorities said this morning the baby’s condition was “still quite serious”. Full extent of her injuries would not be determined until examination was completed and X-rays taken.
   Meanwhile, employees at the Medical Arts Building said the boy who was seen to remove the child from her carriage and drop her from the ledge had returned to his home.
   The incident occurred in full view of a number of persons who happened to be in the vicinity at the time.
   Mrs. _____, the child’s mother, had carefully placed the carriage near the main door to the building, up three steps onto a platform, having taken precaution to leave it in such a position that it was shielded by one of the large cement blocks fronting the right side of the entrance.
   Returning a short time later Mrs. _____ saw the carriage was empty. Rushing into the building she asked at the information  desk if anyone know where her baby was.
   She was informed that a child had been injured and had been taken up to Dr. W. E. Caven’s office in the building. Hurrying to Dr. Caven’s office she learned what had happened and Dr. C, K. Rowan-Legg, who had previously attended the child, was summoned and ordered its removal to the hospital. At the hospital, Dr. H. T. R. Mount, brain specialist, examined the child and reported a fracture of the skull.
   What prompted the boy to molest the baby is not know. Mrs. E. R. Lyon, 564 Brierwood avenue, Westboro, said she was walking past the Medical Arts Building when she  heard unusual cries coming from the carriage near the entrance to the building.
   “Having had children of my own, I can tell when a baby’s crying means something”. Mrs. Lyon told The Journal.
   She then stated how she had gone to the carriage to see what she could do. “There was a small boy standing near the carriage”, she said, “and i thought he was the child’s brother.
   “I bent over the carriage, adjusted the baby’s bonnet and straightened the covers. While I was doing this, the boy pushed his hands into the carriage as if to grab the baby. I asked him where his mother was and he replied ‘not in there’. pointing to the Medical Arts Building.
   “The baby had stopped crying and I started to walk away. I had only gone a short distance when I heard cries again. Looking around I saw the boy put his hands in the carriage, pick up the baby, place it on the cement block and push it off.”

   Mrs. Lyon said she rushed back, picked up the baby from the pavement and hurried with it in her arms into the building. She saw some other people grab the boy, but that was the last she saw of him.

    Falling about four and a half feet, the baby girl landed on her head. At the hospital it was determined that no bones [other than the skull] were broken and the infant never lost consciousness. She apparently suffers no pain except when pressure there is pressure on the large bump on her head.
   Mrs. _____, the child’s mother, said it would be difficult for anyone to snatch the baby from the carriage, as she had carefully tucked the coverings around the child and had fastened the safety strap.

William Mackey, Lumberman

 Further to our look at 201 Cooper, this is the text of the Ottawa Journal's appreciation of lumber baron William Mackey. He died at the house on 1 December 1902, aged 82. More details about his life and times have been assembled by Doug Mackey and can be viewed here and here.

Wm. Mackey, The Ottawa Journal

Ottawa Journal, 1902-12-03

LATE MR. MACKEY BURIED TODAY

FUNERAL WAS A PRIVATE ONE

Sketch of the Successful Career of the Deceased, who was a Pioneer Lumberman.

   Although of a private nature, the funeral this morning  of the late Mr. Wm. Mackey was attended by a number of his relatives and old friends who had been privileged to pay their last respects by being present at the funeral. The cortege left his late residence, Cooper street, at 8:30 and proceeded to St. Patrick’s church where the requiem mass was held, Rev. Father Whelan officiating. Interment was made at Notre Dame cemetery. Among those at the funeral were Messrs. William, Walter, John and Herbert Mackey, N. Flood, Sir James Grant,  Dr. R. W. Powell, J. de St. Denis Lemoyne, E. S. Skead, D’Arcy McMahon, Jos. Kavanagh, Neil Stewart, M. J. Gorman, Percy Mackey, P. Caron, R. D. McKenzie, P. Kennedy and A. Ryan.
   A number of beautiful floral tributes were sent by friends of the family.

*     *     *

THE LATE WILLIAM MACKEY.

A Remarkable Career of Nearly Sixty Years in the Timber Trade.

   A brief obituary notice of the late William Mackey, one of the pioneer lumber kings of the Ottawa valley, appeared in the Journal on Monday last. To-day it may be well to refer to some of the incidents in his long and busy life—particularly in connection with the part Mr. Mackay took in manufacturing square timber—the staple industry of the Ottawa valley for more than three-quarters of a century. It was this industry that gave impulse to Bytown and a start for Capitolian honors to Ottawa.

   It was in the year 1842 that Mr. Mackey landed in the “lumber village.” Like many a son of the Emerald Isle desiring to better his condition, he had sailed for America—a brother and sister accompanying him—arriving in Bytown just as the first government slide was being constructed to safely convey the square timbers past the Chaudiere Falls. Here the young man soon obtained employment with a then prominent operator in the timber trade named George Buchanan. This gentleman had much to do with the new slides at Bytown, acting for the government, and built under contract the slides at the Chats, on both of which works William Mackey and his brother were employed. And it was in the descent of a crib of timber at the latter that Mr. Buchanan lost his life in endeavoring to release a jam of timber.
   At the date in question it so happened that the late Hon. James Skead was conducting for the government some improvements on the Upper Ottawa, these being intended to encourage the growth of the timber trade on the upper waters, rather than to facilitate the descent of timber at that time, for there was little to come down. In this work the two Mackey soon became engaged under Mr. Skead’s superintendence, continuing in this service until the improvements were completed. Soon after—in ’44 it is said—Mr. Skead began lumbering on his own account, and with him were the brothers Mackey. This business connection continued for some four or five years, during a portion of which time Mr. Mackey became foreman, after which he began to take out timber on his own account, his first raft of red pine being floated down from the new Madawaska limits in 1850.
   Reference may be made to the most melancholy accident, as the number losing their lives, that probably ever happened among the river men on the Ottawa. Fourteen men, amon whom was Mr. Wm. Mackey’s brother, were drowned while endeavouring to release a jam of timber which had hung upon the rocks.
   Meantime the employing lumberer had become brother-in-law to Mr. Mackey, and thus the friendship which had existed for years had merged into life-long relationship.
   As already stated it was in the year 1850 he floated down his first raft, although he had piloted several previously for the man who was to take his sister for a wife. Thus Mr. Mackey’s actual years in the trade may be said to cover 58 years—a career, considering that it was without a break or failure, that has probably never been equalled in the Ottawa valley timber trade.

   Mention must be made of Mr. Mackey’s partnerships—both business and marital. A few years after his entry in business he became united in marriage to one of Bytown’s fairest daughters. The young lady was the second daughter of Peter Armstrong, the proprietor at the time of the old Union hotel, that preceded the Grand Union of Elgin and Queen streets. It was then that Mr. Mackey purchased a farm near to Arnprior, built himself a handsome house, and settled down in his own home. Curiously, also near the same time he formed another partnership, a business one, to take part in the management and share the profits of his then active business. Neil Robertson, a man already well skilled in lumber operations, took charge of one branch, the profits arising from which he shared in, while Mr. Mackey continued on his own account in another direction. Both settled on farms contiguous to each other, and the families of both grew up almost together, but death put an end to the union of interests, Mr. Robertson passing away some 30 years ago.
   It was shortly after this that Mr. Mackey made Ottawa his home. He purchased in the west end of the city the stone building erected by William Hunton, improved and embellished it, and settled his family therein. Some twelve years ago, however, Mr. Mackey made another move, purchasing the commodious residence on Elgin and Cooper streets, built by C. T. Bate for his own prospective home. Here many improvements were made and comforts added to the new and centrally located family residence, the first break in its employment being the death of Mrs. Mackey about nine years since. Now the chief himself disappears—and such is life.
   The distinguished lumberman having been traced, in a brief manner, in his highly successful career, a few remarks may be appropriately made as to his religion, political opinions and open-handedness. In religion he was Roman Catholic. In politics he was pronouncedly Conservative and was a liberal contributor to the cause when election contests were on, but he never could be persuaded to enter the political field himself. Of a retiring disposition and fond of the home circle Mr. Mackay found his pleasure in conducting business and in the company of his family. His family consisted of four sons and three daughters, those resident in the city being Mrs.  St. Denis Lemoyne, Mrs. D’Arcy McMahon and Walter Mackey.
   Mr. Mackey died very wealthy, his estate, nearly all personal, being said as mounting to four or five millions. And all this wealth was secured in legitimate business. No chances were taken on the stock exchange or in speculation outside of the trade he understood so well. Each year he made money, and this money was well invested, and being favored by long life, a wise head and continued good fortune he leaves to his family the millions he saved.

   Lastly, it may be interesting to learn how wealth is sometimes acquired, legitimately, honestly and perhaps by good luck. One of Mr. Mackey’s speculations may be given as an example. During his lumber operations, although he began on the Madawaska, his chief limits and those he made the most money out of, were on the stream known as the Anable-du-Ford. Here he lumbered extensively and also built a saw mill, and it is related by a fellow lumberer of long experience in the trade, and well acquainted with Mr. Mackey’s methods and doings, that on a certain occasion he purchased a limit, the price being but a few thousand dollars. He offered his partner, Mr. Robertson, a half interest in the speculation, which was readily accepted. Some time after, however, the lumber trade became unpromising; Mr. Robertson desired to be relieved of his charge and stated the fact to Mr. Mackey, who at once paid him back his money. Several years rolled by while raft after raft were being taken from the limit and still it seemed inexhaustible. Finally, last year when Mr. Mackey resolved to dispose of that and all other interests in the woods, this much-culled limit sold for $65,000.

CAXTON.

once a Sunday school...

 If I can get away with saying "churchy looking".... well hey, I just did. I can't find that much about this little building. It faces onto Elgin Street and bears the number 275. It's an annex to the adjoining St. John the Evangelist Church on the corner of Somerset West. To its immediate south, a Wine Rack, Ministry of Coffee, and the Fox & Feather  occupy shopfronts in old Harmon school/apartment building. 275's paved-over, vest-pocket  front yard serves as a smoking square for the women of The Well / La Source as often as not.

Though it looks small from the front, the annex extends backward the full length of its parent church — the stone foundation hints at turn-of-the-century construction.

 The church. not surprisingly, was built first. Goad January 1888 (sheet #52) shows "Grace Church (Episcopal)" without an annex. Goad 1912 (again sheet #52) depicts the annex and labels it a Sunday school.

 The church is now St. John the Evangelist. This snippet of history from their website roughly agrees with Goad's information. You can view the entire page here.

"...In 1889, a furore [sic] erupted in St George’s Church which was to have a dramatic effect upon the life of St John’s. A small core of thirty people left St George’s over a dispute centering on the liturgy, and this group bought a piece of land at the corner of Elgin and Somerset Streets from James McLaren of Buckingham, Quebec. Mr. J. Hames was hired as the architect and construction began on a new Anglican church. The total agreed cost of the new church was $20,000 and the cornerstone was laid on October 21, 1890.

Within three months, a small congregation was worshiping in the unfinished structure. The first baptism was held on May 15, 1890, when the Rector, John Gorman, christened his son, John. At the annual Vestry of 1891, Father Gorman agreed not to tamper with either the theology or the liturgy of the parish without a two-thirds agreement from the parish. In March, 1891, the church was completed and consecrated as Grace Church..."

The former Sunday school is now a multi-use space. On Friday nights it's home to Rahim's Salsa.

171 Waverley

"The Golden Triangle" is a newer name for an older neighbourhood. Robert Smythe dates the usage to the early 1970s (see his "Deep Cut") — reflecting a greater local pride (and price) in that part of Centretown bounded by Elgin Street and the Canal — this following a flurry of renewal activity in the 1960s.

 Claiming its share of older, plus-size residences, the Triangle's real charm lies with its many more modest homes, like the one in the picture above. Prim and balanced, like a cat with her tail wrapped around her feet, 171 Waverley's dictum could well be "Let nothing stick out" — even the paired dormers can't be seen from where we stand. Notice the little Palladian-style window in the gable (the earmark of so many McMansions these days.)

 #171 dates from some time between 1901 and 1909. Might '01 describes the lot as "vacant" while Goad 1902-'12 shows the house (and its neighbours) fully built. Might 1909 lists "Heins Donald, mus tchr."

 Mr. Heins may well have been 171's first occupant. Born in England, he settled here in 1902 while in his mid-twenties. Classically trained, he not only taught...  as befitted a musician of his day, Heins sang and played piano (and the organ and the violin.) He also composed. Dismayed by Ottawa's underexposure to classical music, Heins quickly established our city's first professional orchestra, filling a cultural void and providing work for local musicians — at something other than teaching! You can read more about Donald Heins here.

"230 Ogilvy Charles"

 Well here's an unexpected find. I was glancing over the listings for Lisgar Street in the 1901 Might Directory (my idea of fun, haha!) and this entry caught my eye — "230 Ogilvy Charles" — no comma, no other notation. Could it be?

 Born in Edinburgh in 1861, Charles Ogilvy came to Canada with his family two years later. He opened his first dry-goods store in 1887, at 92 Rideau Street. In 1907 he moved shop to 126 Rideau, into a building designed by the noted Ottawa architect W.E. Noffke and his partner George William Northwood. Charles Ogilvy Ltd. (or simply "Ogilvy's") grew in physical size, number of outlets, and reputation through the first half of the 20th century.

 A fire at the flagship store in the dying days of 1969 marked the beginning of a slow decline for the business. Simpson's, Eaton's and The Bay proved overwhelming competition for a store  renowned for its well-made but timelessly unexciting fashions. Ogilvy's  closed in the '90s, and sat empty for years thereafter. In 2013 the building was carefully demolished pending the reconstruction of its facade as part of an expanded Rideau Centre.

...le temple qui fut, April 2013

\

deuxième vue, April 2013

 And what does this have to do with 230 Lisgar Street? Was "Ogilvy Charles" the local retail legend or just some dude with the same name? A bit of nosing around vindicates the former.

Charles Ogilvy, 1901

 In 1901, "230 Ogilvy Charles" was still eight years away from opening his resplendent temple of retail at the corner of Rideau and Nicholas. Here are a few lead-up dates for the house on Lisgar...

1884 — Charles Ogilvy, a clerk, is boarding at 80 Albert St.
1887 — Charles opens his first dry-goods store.
1888 — 230 Lisgar appears on the Goad map as a perfunctory, 2½ storey brick building, a narrow house on a narrow lot, with the usual summer kitchen out back. See image below.
1892-'93 — Miss Florence Benson of 230 Lisgar is teaching voice and piano, "concert engagements accepted." She will eventually marry, move to Montreal and sing in a church choir.
1897-1901 — Newspapers and the Might Directory confirm Charles as residing at 230 Lisgar, indeed owner of the namesake store. The Ottawa Journal further confirms a Mrs. Ogilvy [Lily Allison] again as of 1897, active with the King's Daughters and Sons, a Christian philanthropic organization.

230 Lisgar appears as the right-most of six similar houses, upper half of image.

 During his Lisgar Street tenure,  Charles was operating his store out of its old location at 92 Rideau.

 The Ogilvys eventually quit this austere little house for another in Sandy Hill — just as plain, but closer to the store. #201 Wilbrod (white house, middle of image) has sat empty, its doors and windows boarded for about a decade now.

 Back in Centretown, the Faloon family operated a boarding house at 230 Lisgar from the 1930s into WWII. In 1935 a visitor from Denver Colorado mistook a door at the top of the rear stairs for a washroom. She fell to her death, breaking her neck and smashing her skull. On March 26 1940 the house served as a polling station in that year's Federal Election — the Liberals won.

 The building has since been split into two apartments. I can't pin down the date of the strange brick extension at the front of the building — I'm sure it seemed like a good an idea at the time.

 For those interested, there is a Facebook page devoted to Charles Ogilvy Ltd. Ken Elder has written a terrific little history of the store, pdf here. Oh, and Andrew Elliott has an awesome appreciation here (be sure to click on his links!)

 The Ogilvys spent their final years in a lovely house at 488 Edison Avenue just west of Churchill Avenue.

 

the Ottawa Journal

the Ottawa journal, Jan. 19 1944

Requiescant in pace.

182-184 Lisgar Street

 Sitting between an unmatched pair of red brick walk-ups, #182-184 dates to the 1901-1909 time-frame, according to the Might Directories. Goad shows a building resembling this one in place as of 1912, when the lot sat behind the Protestant Orphans' Home. The latter faced onto Elgin and spanned the block from Lisgar to Cooper. Urbsite's article "Coming Soon" includes a photo which reveals 182-184 peering out from behind the north end of the orphanage.

Sandy Loses a Southam

[Confusion alert — This article contains references to a man called Shirley and a woman called Andrew.]

 If one were to say anything unkind about the newspaper scans at Google (The Ottawa Citizen) or Newspapers.com (The Ottawa Journal), it might be that the quality of the photographs is horrible —  each newspaper being horrible in its own way. Those of the Citizen are sketchy and over-contrasted, like Xeroxes of old, while the Journal's are blobby, murky and dark.

 Still. we must be grateful for the information they provide. Here's an example of something (sketchy and over-contrasted) that appeared in the March 2nd edition of The Ottawa Citizen in the year 1910.

 To say that 381 Stewart was "beautifully situated" was an understatement. The house stood second to last on the north side of the street, on the eastern edge of the Sandy Hill plateau, on a cliff overlooking the Rideau River. The "country beyond" would have been the Janeville section of Eastview, plus a handful of houses claiming to be Overbrook. Which is to say it was mostly meadows and hay-fields, marked by meandering streams and dotted with woodlots.

Scrolley (scrolly?) things

 Picture quality notwithstanding, we can make out a late-Victorian cross-gabled
confection of gambrel roof, dormer window and sun-catching bays, nicely tarted up with decorative trim and festive awnings. The front of the house boasts a two-tiered verandah in the classical style,  properly pedimented, held up by four bold columns, each topped (it would seem, if you squint) with an Ionic volute (scrolley thing.)

 At a time when some Ottawa realtors were lying through their teeth to sell their "high and dry" floodplain lots, the guileless copy of this ad is refreshing — no frantic appeals to the reader's vanity, no outrageous claims  — (the walk from #381 to the Charlotte "car [streetcar] lines" was indeed less than two minutes, probably closer to one.)

 This wasn't just any real estate ad — integrity of wording was requisite. Appearing as it did on page 10 of 12, nested amid a motley grab-bag of news stories and ads for spring tonics (it was nearly spring, after all), this placement announced the sale of the house of Wilson Mills Southam, son of the Citizen's owner, newspaper magnate William Southam.

*     *     *

 The history of Sandy Hill plateau during the 1800s can be oversimplified thus...
1) Early decades (yes, I'm being vague), logging.
2) Mid-century, farming (mostly by squatter market-gardeners) and
3) Closing decades, real estate development, including a lot of high-end stuff.

 The last-mentioned home-building spread southward and eastward away from the city core, across the plateau to reach its limits (Laurier Avenue and the Rideau River) around the end of the 19th century. The 20th would watch as two World Wars, the Great Depression and the expansion of Ottawa University conspired to divide many of the once great Sandy Hill homes into multi-unit rentals, while others were demolished to make way for apartment buildings — or in the case of #381, to be reduced to a  patch of grass and pavement.

 But now we are ahead of ourselves.

 I won't pretend to know why Wilson M. and Henrietta (Cargill) Southam decided to sell.  Had a demon moved into their basement? Did it smell bad? Did visions of their children falling off the nearby cliff haunt their dreams? Or had they foreseen their once-stellar neighbourhood slouching toward mere charm?

 On pages 205-207 of Martha Edmond's Rockcliffe Park: A History of the Village we find this...

"Two of [architect] Allan Keefer's houses, Lindenelm and Casa Loma, are now the residences of the ambassadors of Spain and Austria respectively. They were built adjacent to each other in 1911 for two brothers, Wilson and Harry Southam. Their father, founder of the Southam publishing dynasty bought the Ottawa Citizen in 1896 and sent his two sons to run the paper. Wilson, the eldest son, came to Ottawa in 1897 to take over as managing director. Harry followed in 1901, to become Secretary-Treasurer. In 1909, they bought adjoining land from the Keefer Estate and put in a private road."

 So there you have it. The Wilson Southams were early-adopters, part of a vanguard abandoning Sandy Hill for "the Village." They left their quaint but stale-dated Queen Anne house with its killer cliff, its shallow Rideau River and its view of proto-Vanier for "Lindenelm," a Tudor Revival manse atop a gentle cliff, overlooking the mighty Ottawa River with a breathtaking view of the Gatineau Hills.

 But didn't Wilson, with his downtown newspaper job, miss being less than two minutes walk from the streetcar? Not at all — the Southam families had access to the extended Rockcliffe line which ran past the very bottoms of their respective gardens (now the Rockeries) and shared a dedicated, sheltered "Southam stop" — indeed, a shorter walk than the old Stewart Street slog.

*     *     *

 Well then, bully for the Southams I say. With their money and foresight I'd have done the same. But what of 381 Stewart and its whimsied charms? To our eyes, the Citizen's photo reveals a lost treasure. To the Southams the house likely reeked of demons 19th century fussiness. Hey, it's not easy staying hip.

 Here's a view of #381's immediate neighbourhood, per Goad 1912, roughly the time of the Southam's move to Rockcliffe. I've boxed their house and property in red.

 
 (Notice the old Cummings Bridge, still connecting to the island with its general store, post office and outlying sheds. I waded out to Cummings Island this summer, hoping to find any remaining foundations but was promptly chased off by nesting Canada geese. Thankfully I was drunk, otherwise I might well have panicked.)

 In the above plan, the Southam house is sited on a block designated #105. The Goad directory plan for 1895 (seventeen years previous) shows no construction on block 105 nor on any of the adjoining blocks. This refines our understanding of the rate and extent of home-building on the east end of the plateau.

 The Might Directory for 1901 does not list #381, though the Southam's neighbour-to-be, one William L. Scott, was already installed at #383. Might 1909 does list the Southams at 381. Martha Edmond gives us 1897 as the year of Wilson's arrival in Ottawa — thus a possible timeline takes shape, with Wilson Southam perhaps taking an apartment while his house was being built in Sandy Hill, a house his family would live in for at most a decade.

 The house was bought by one Robert M. Cox, "pioneer lumberman," originally from Liverpool.  Mr. Cox died in the house in the summer of 1919 at the age of 83.  He had married his second wife little more than a year previous. His name survived him through his business — for example, Robert Cox & Co. at Hope Chambers supplied "birnut" wood (patented process cured Quebec birch made to look like walnut) for the floors, doors and trim of the Duncannon Apartments (1931.) As a respected businessman, he contributed generously to the War Effort and was seen at all the right funerals.

 I don't know how the widow Cox fared after her husband's death, but by 1923, the house was occupied by the Conservative politician Sir Henry Lumley Drayton (1869-1950.) He served as minister of finance under two prime ministers and then ran for Conservative leadership (but came in last.) You can read about him here.

 One might think that Sir Henry's tenure would have been enough to earn 381 Stewart the title "Drayton House," but by the thick of World War II it was being called Wolsley House. The name may have been conferred, for whatever reason, by the military who had taken over the place. Here is a patchy chronology gleaned from the pages of the Ottawa Journal.

1926, February 20 "Burnham Boilers are Good Boilers — The residence of Sir Henry Drayton is heated by two Burnham Boilers," etc.
1936,  July 17 Madame Jan Pawlica[1] held a party for her guest Miss Mary Nixon Bull of Winnipeg. The afternoon's entertainments ran "delightfully late" and were attended by "members of Ottawa's younger set."
1940, July 23  "Juliana Renting Shirley Woods' Home — ...Shirley Woods[2] confirmed a story in The Journal [that] the Princess was moving into his home on the shores of McKay Lake[3]. He is vacating the premises shortly and will live at one of his houses, 381 Stewart street, now occupied by Victor Podoski, Consul General for Poland..."
1942, Nov 28 "...the Navy Minister... [has] authorized the acquiring of the former Shirley Woods home at 381 Stewart...  as quarters for the Wrens, girls of the Women's Royal Naval Service."
1943, March 2 ".. $20.000 was paid the estate of Col J.W. Woods for a property at 381 Stewart street, also for the use of the W.R.C.N.S. [the Wrens]."
1945, September 18 "...Council also approved a Board of Control recommendation that the city take over Wolsley House, 381 Stewart street, occupied by Wrens, to house veterans and their families."[4]
1948, February 23 "Betty Jane Dixon, 381 Stewart street" is crowned in a skating competition.[5]
1949, May 6 "War Assets... for sale at Ottawa, Ontario... [including] 381 Stewart Street"
1955, October 13 "Mrs. Herbert A. McDougall[6], 381 Stewart street died at home after a long illness..."
and finally,
1961, February 22 "Fire Calls, Tuesday [Feb. 21]  ... 5:30 PM — 381 Stewart, pot of grease on stove, no damage..."

[1] wife of the Polish Consul-General
[2] a dude
[3] limestone construction on 10 acres, built 1938 — and that (as my mother would say every spring) is why we have tulips.
[4] This happened to several houses in Sandy Hill. The post-war housing boom would make these efforts look quaint.
[5] a serviceman's daughter?
[6] wife of the Lt.-Col., mother of Nadine (a woman, styled Princess Andrew of Russia)

 Say what you will, 381 Stewart Street was, in its time, a storied address.

 After the great kitchen fire of 1961, #381 faded from public attention. At some point during that decade it was demolished to accommodate the Rio Vista Apartments at 400 Stewart Street.

the Rio Vista, Ottawa Journal, February 1971 (check the swans)

 All that remains of lot 381 is a small parking area in front of the apartment building...

via Google Maps/ Street View

 By my estimation, the house stood on the spot here occupied by a row of parked cars, just below the middle of the picture. An audacious 2013 proposal to fill this gap with an even taller apartment/condo building has yet to see fruition. I reproduce an article from the Ottawa Citizen in its entirety

 "By David Reevely, OTTAWA CITIZEN December 3, 2013 6:00 PM

OTTAWA — A Montreal developer’s proposed 31-storey building in east Sandy Hill overlooking the Rideau River would be the first of a new generation of towers in the area.

The local councillor called the plan the latest brick in a wall of buildings blocking off the view of the river.

Rio Vista Apartments Inc. already owns a luxury apartment just east of the proposed new tower at 400 Stewart St. That tower rises 25 storeys from the nearby riverbank but only 21 storeys from street level.

The new 226-unit building — Rio Vista’s application calls it an “apartment,” though in planning jargon that can mean condominiums or rental units — would look 10 floors taller than its nearest neighbour, already one of the tallest buildings in the area...

They’d be joined by an underground garage, six storeys deep, to form one complex. The hundreds of extra parking spots would doubtless lead to more traffic in Sandy Hill, but it would be divided between Stewart and Daly Avenue on the property’s north side, thanks to two entrances and exists.

“I’m not happy with it,” said Coun. Mathieu Fleury. “We’re building a wall against the water.” There’s no path along the riverbank there, no practical access to the Rideau, and this’ll make things worse, he said. He’s glad to see plans to build on a surface parking lot, but not just anything will do.

“There could be a nice [building] within the existing development rules,” he said, which max out at about 12 storeys. “Thirty-one storeys is massive, no matter how you look at it.”

The new glassy spire would be more like the modern condos in Centretown and Hintonburg than its heavier-looking concrete neighbours from the 1960s and ’70s. Rio Vista’s application says politely: “Aside from providing a more contemporary architecture and built form, the proposal will also provide a better relationship with the existing slab buildings, by allowing many advantages (i.e. improved light, air and views).”

But that comes at a cost, mainly in allowing Rio Vista to build a tower nearly three times as high as the zoning on the property allows.

It also means giving up the prospect of a small park on the property, which is officially in the city’s plans but has never happened. Rio Vista says it’s waited for more than 10 years for the city to make an offer and it’s never come, so it’s time to get on with a development.

The city generally favour putting tall buildings up against natural edges, like major roads, rail tracks and rivers, where they have fewer neighbours. That makes sites like this one, on a dead end and next to the Rideau, an attractive spot. Developers’ interest in sites like this has also grown as parking lots and rundown buildings in the downtown core have been snapped up and built on: there’s already a proposal for 24- and 27-storey buildings just across the river in Vanier.

The steep slope up from the Rideau on its west bank will make the 31-storey building look even taller, Fleury said. There appears to be nothing special about the site that warrants the extra height. It’s not close to a transit station, not in a redevelopment district. It is in a residential area two blocks south of Rideau Street, right next to Sandy Hill houses.

The application is new so there is no date set for planning committee to consider it."

191 McLeod, "The Mack"

No really, it's the pole not the building.

 191 McLeod (at Elgin) first appeared in the 1912 Might Directory, listed simply as the "Mackenzie Apartments," sans occupants. The next year, six tenants were listed. Residents of "The Mack" would have enjoyed streetcar service from Elgin into downtown, Rideau Street and the Market. On weekends, "the cars" would take day-trippers to Rockcliffe Park and Britannia Bay — and in winter, folks could cross the street to visit the recently opened Victoria Museum.

 Also, you got to say "I'm hangin' at the Mack."

 A modest 1½ storey house stood on this very spot before the Mackenzie was built. It faced onto Elgin and bore the number 410. In the same block, the Holbrook Apartments at 404 Elgin were built circa 1915-'16, taking the place of two 2½ storey houses — I don't think the Ontario Municipal Board even existed back then. In both cases, the demolished homes were likely the first "permanent" buildings on their respective sites. Oh the irony...

 Here's a picture of scrappy little 408 Elgin, hunkered down between the rear of the MacKenzie to the left and the Holbrook to the right. A nearly identical house once stood on the site of the Mack. The Holbrook displaced two such houses. The building on the corner of Gladstone (with the Mac's store) is original to its site.