Saint John is a hard city to love. You practically have to be into born it, like a hereditary Stockholm syndrome. It is the industrial business-end of a province that has often taken it for granted and the result of centuries of questionable city planning choices. It is, however, not without its Victorian charms. It is a city at odds with itself, perpetually torn between modernization and preservation. The Lost City, featuring the photographs of Ian MacEachearn and written by architect John Leroux, documents one such period of aggressive urban renewal within Saint John during the 1960s, indeed one of the most aggressive in Canadian history, and the miscalculation that led to the displacement of an entire community.
Ian MacEachern was a camera man, living and working in Saint John during the 1960s. Outside of work, he took to photographing his North End neighbourhood, primarily between Main Street and Douglas Avenue. It was a ramshackle of homes and businesses that had organically sprouted up, practically on top of each other, subject to the extremes of poverty, a lack of zoning laws, but part of a vibrant of community. It was also slated to be demolished in a nationally mandated program of urban renewal that would see a third of the city demolished, if the buildings weren’t first razed by the almost habitual fires.
MacEachern’s collection of photographs capture a neighbourhood in its twilight. While many of the buildings themselves are certainly in decline, MacEachern is able to key in on elements that show a natural vivacity in its people, despite their surroundings. As Leroux points out, Saint John’s North End shared many traits that have made their modern counterparts thriving community, while was has been left in the wake of Saint John’s urban renewal is a scar across the city.
Leroux first encountered MacEachern’s photographs in 2007 while compiling a book on the history of New Brunswick’s architecture called Building New Brunswick, published by Goose Lane.
“I had stumbled upon two great photographs from Ian’s time in Saint John during the 1960s: one of the pre-destruction Main Street, showing the dense, vibrant downtown commercial streetscape, and the other was of the beginning of the ‘urban renewal’ building demolition,” says Leroux. “In the latter’s case, it showed three uniformed navy sailors walking past a crumbling brick building in the throws of being torn down. With the military men, it looked like Blitz-era London from the early 1940s.”
The Lost City: Photographs of Saint John began 11 years later, in 2016. MacEachern and Leroux began assembling a complete book of seventy-five black and white photographs giving a glimpse into the stark contrast of conditions experienced within the Main Street neighbourhood. While Saint John has a history of rushing headlong into fruitless projects, with plenty of modern examples (we’re looking at you, second refinery), Leroux says that for the impetus of the project one need look no further than the photographs.
“How can you not be overwhelmed with wanting to tell this story, and not be astounded by these incredible, stunning photographs?” asks Leroux.
“As an architect and historian who loves Saint John, I was struck with sadness and disbelief that what amounted to a small city in the centre of New Brunswick’s most important metropolis was considered unsalvageable and irrelevant in the 1960s. As those in power at the time gave no voice or credence to the marginalized and the poor who lived in the neighborhood, the Main Street-North End area of the city was completely destroyed in only a few years. 5000 people were displaced and only 1000 were rehoused by the authorities. The area connected the two halves of Saint John and was active, bustling, and, while it had areas of abject poverty, it was full of dynamic energy.
A neighborhood like that would never be obliterated today, it would be carefully figured out and selectively repaired and refurbished. The “urban renewal” and blasting through of the cross-town highway and elimination of the residential and commercial areas was one of the greatest tragedies of modern urban planning in the history of Canada. But here’s the thing, Ian was a young inhabitant of the neighbourhood at that time, and he somehow knew that it was important and worth capturing. He couldn’t save that part of the city, but he could capture the humanity that existed within its streets, alleys, backyards and front steps. There’s no doubt that Ian’s images of Saint John during the pre-urban renewal era are among the finest social documentary photographs ever taken in Canada.”
Leroux explains that many of the long lasting effects of the urban renewal project had on Saint John can still be felt in the city today. It’s reflected not only in the city’s topography and traffic patterns, but the way business is being conducted, and certainly the city’s cultural tapestry.
“The commercial strip along Main Street housed many Jewish-owned businesses that were a foundation of Saint John. It’s no coincidence that their elimination coincided with the beginning of the exodus of many local Jewish families to larger centres in central Canada. This isn’t just a story about the loss of streets and buildings, it’s about the loss of human energy and deep-seated connection with community.
Adding insult to injury, one of the main reasons the highway was deemed necessary was to handle the projected huge growth in the population of Saint John during the 1970s and 1980s. Guess what? The population actually shrunk.”
Leroux explains that the timing to tell this story felt right to him, and hardly beyond from future follies. The Lost City, whether intentionally so or no, stands as a warning to the current generation that poor planning and short-sightedness will fail to produce the desired result, and we might learn from past mistakes.
“Saint John is in the midst of rediscovering itself and realizing what makes its urban character so special. I am torn though, as at this very moment, civic officials are looking at allowing large-scale demolition once again along Main Street (although not nearly as vast in scope as the 1960s urban renewal). They need to slow down and learn the lessons of the ‘Lost City’ era,” warns Leroux.
“Decayed sections of a city can be restored and refurbished, but they can never come back from being bulldozed to the ground and morphed into things like highways.”
Of course, that naturally raises the question of what might have been differently. Looking over MacEachern’s photos it seems that many of the buildings are destined for ruin. Facades tapper off into tumbledown back ends, and chimneys bristle out at precarious angles for a tinderbox combo.
Leroux says that, despite appearances, the situation could have been brought to a very different resolution.
“While many of them were likely too far gone for saving, most of them would have been very salvageable. Many tens of millions of dollars were spent to eliminate a living part of the city, only to replace it with what was later deemed by government as an essentially unoccupied “scar” through the centre of town,” says Leroux.
“Think of what could have been accomplished had that amount of funds been spent on improving the neighborhood, architecture, amenities and social services? It would be a key part of the city, both historically and financially.”
Leroux suggests that several combinations of solutions might have provided much more suitable alternatives that would have preserved the community: “A rerouted bridge and highway; large-scale repair of the housing stock; embracing the density and complexity of the longstanding neighborhoods and historic architecture; and understanding that the health of a city is determined by a wide range of socio-economic citizens.”
In his opinion, Leroux says he feels that the city is doing a better job now than they were in the 1960s, at least in some ways, but less so in others.
“They seem to have a better handle on managing the lowest levels of poverty and sub-standard housing, but much of the industry that was once the lifeblood of the city has left long ago. The city also needs to acknowledge that it is not being nearly as good a steward of its built environment as it should. I see more being torn down in Saint John than in any other New Brunswick city, and while there is a good amount of interest and new investment in the Uptown, there are still far too many important structures and streetscapes at risk.”
The Lost City is published by Goose Lane, and is available on Amazon. There will be an artist and author book signing in Saint John at Handworks Gallery on November 3rd, 2018 from 1:00pm until 3:00pm. A travelling exhibit of the work is currently being hosted by the Saint John Arts Centre.