The Decline of Riverview

These photos were taken from a moving bus so I apologize for the weird angle they are on.

In 1904, a community for the mentally ill was in existence in the lower mainland. Then called The Hospital for the Mind and Essondale, this community was where the mentally ill could live productive lives in their own sanctuary. It was a community farm, which the mentally ill took care of. What a great idea!

For most of the twentieth century, this hospital - known today as Riverview - was at the forefront of mental health theory and practice. An important part of the therapy was voluntary horticultural work, food production and building maintenance. At its peak, Riverview housed 4,300 patients but by 2009, only 250 active beds remained and by 2012, that number was reduced to 70.

This psychiatric unit consisted of 244 acres and 80 buildings overlooking the Fraser River. Five of those buildings were brick wards. It was gorgeous in its heyday.

But the 1990s, many of Riverview's programs were closed the province was selling off many of the land parcels. The future of this grand property was becoming a concern for the residents of Coquitlam. The park-like setting, gardens, architectural heritage and history of the grounds, struck a chord with people in the area.

In 2005, the City of Coquitlam called for the lands to be held in public ownership and to protect the architectural and botanical heritage. Two years later, the province announced its intention to turn the grounds into high-rise market housing as well as social housing and homes for the mentally ill. 7,000 units of more were going to be created.

The reaction was swift. And negative. The City of Coquitlam stated the land should remain publicly owned and market housing not be considered. A petition was drawn up and more than 13,000 signatures were gathered. The province backed off.

Thanks to National Trust Canada for the above information. On Wednesday, I will tell you more.

I hope you find the beauty around you.

Karen Magill

Years of Blood

World War I had ended and Vancouver rejoiced. 100,000 people resided in the town at that time and the only ones not watching the parade on November 11, 1918, were either marching in it or the motormen and conductors on the street cars. Which, by the way, were stalled for three hours.

A prominent, notoriously tight fisted, financier stood on the curb in a fur-collared overcoat, watching the parade pass. One hand waved his bowler hat while the other held a cheap tin horn, which he was blowing vigorously as he danced  a jig.

"Where'd you get the horn?" someone asked.

"Last one in town," the financier answered. "Had to pay a feller a dollar and a half for it." His face took on a puzzled expression. "... an' you know, it ain't worth two bits." On the street, drums pounded and trumpets blared as another band went by. The tycoon yelled and tooted on his horn before saying to his friend "...but what's a dollar on a day like this?"

As the parade went by and the crowd began to move on, the financier wiped the moisture off the mouthpiece, carefully put the horn in an inside pocket and put the bowler in place on his head, giving it a firm tap on the crown. He solemnly looked at his acquaintance and said,

"You know, George, it's the first time in my life I've ever said anything like that."

The celebration went on for hours but by the evening, it had spent itself. 

On the waterfront, every flag was at half-mast as the Princess Alice glided slowly into her berth at the CPR's Pier D.

At 7 a.m., November 12, her ghastly cargo was unloaded. 157 roughly shrouded bodies that were laid in long rows on trestles in the gloomy, cavernous wharf-shed. At 9 a.m., small groups of men and women filed through the improvised morgue to identify the bodies. 

These were not soldiers killed in war but victims from the wreck of the Princess Sophia in Lynn Canal, the worst marine disaster in the history of the Pacific Coast.  Many of these victims are buried in Mountainview cemetery and I wrote about this disaster in 2011 if you want to check it out.

World War I was over and "at the going down of the sun, and in the morning," the city honoured its dead.

Thanks to the book Vancouver, from Milltown to Metropolis by Alan Morley for the above information. I think I cried through most of this entry from being overjoyed imagining the excitement on November 11 with everyone partying then the heavy hearts the next day as the real world intruded with the delivery of those 157 corpses.

I hope you find the beauty around you.

Karen Magill

11/11/18

The labour troubles during and after the war culminated in the longshoreman's strike in the winter of 1923-24. Even though that was a bitterly fought fight, Vancouver was fortunate enough to escape the impact of a major upheaval such as the Winnipeg general strike of 1919.

The Canadian Legion also didn't turn on the unions as "betrayers of men at the front" like the American Legion did. And Canada was at war for almost three years longer than the U.S. Our fighting men were mostly working men during some period of 1914-18 either before enlisting or after they returned, wounded. A very large proportion of the union were men who had fought in the war by the time the was ended.

The last of WWI saw the trends of 1917 intensify. Except for the strikes. There was full employment, business was "the soundest in history", prices went higher, stocks of goods were low and housing was scarce.

The main war industry continued to be shipbuilding. 39 vessels, large and small, were completed, six still on the way with 33 wooden and 12 steel ships contracted for. There had been 39 tag days during the war, which raised $105,000 for various charities; people were complaining about the frequent appeals.

 
All things come to an end. Including WWI. News of the armistice arrived just after midnight, early in the morning on November 11. The town went wild; lights blazed, whistles blew, elderly housewives danced in the streets, dignified businessmen yelled, shrieked and beat on tin cans.

All day long, the streets were filled with people. At noon, traffic could not move at Hastings and Main. A step-seated, open B.C. Electric sightseeing car careened all over town with a band jam-packed on board, blaring out all the wartime songs. It was piloted by fast-talking, wisecracking Teddy Lyons.

A civic parade that afternoon made its way through the crowds of hoarse, happy, tired but still yelling and cheering men, women and children.

Thanks to the book Vancouver, From Milltown to Metropolis by Alan Morley for the above information.

I hope you find the beauty around you.