YOU SHOULD KNOW: More About Local First Nations Leader & Icon, Joe Capilano

by Stevie Wilson | Just a few minutes from the bustling Park Royal Shopping Centre sits a quiet, isolated patch of hill that serves as the Squamish Nation Burial Ground. Tucked away amongst the residential milieu of private homes and apartments, this sacred site is the final resting place of many who have belonged to this indigenous community. The Squamish Nation Traditional Territory, comprised of 6,732 square kilometers, includes a significant portion of the Lower Mainland, including the North Shore. This unique burial setting features a small number of private graves. Among the burial markers and totem poles sits a large house-like structure made of stone: the Joe Capilano Mausoleum. It stands as a monument not only to a prominent community leader, but also to his activism and the fascinating historical narrative that envelops it.

Originally known as Sa7plek (Sahp-luk), Joe Capilano was born in 1854 (or 1840, depending who you ask) outside Squamish. While not much is known of his early life, he is said to have grown up in a reserve near the Capilano River and trained as a sawmill labourer and carver in North Vancouver (known back then as Moodyville). Prior to the influx of Roman Catholic missionaries to the Lower Mainland in the 1860s, Sa7plek had been raised in traditional Squamish teachings. By the time he married Mary Agnes Líxwelut in May 1872, however, his Catholic beliefs were steadfast and he chose to be baptized. His wife was a celebrated genealogist in her own right, and her grandfather is said to have welcomed George Vancouver to the Burrard Inlet in 1792. Sa7plek was championed by Roman Catholic officials in the area who saw him as a prime candidate for leadership due to his unique mix of Catholic and indigenous education. He was poised, they believed, to influence the spread of Catholicism across other Native communities. In 1895, he succeeded Chief Láwa as leader of the Squamish.

In 1906, after many ineffective attempts to negotiate with the Provincial government, the driven Sa7plek travelled to Ottawa to meet with Sir Wilfred Laurier, and then on to London to petition King Edward VII. Along with him were elders Chief Charley Isipaymilt (Cowichan) and Chief Basil David (Shuswap); all three seeking improved Native-White relations in BC. Specifically, they sought a lift on the potlatch ban, hunting and fishing restrictions, and various imposed regulations that limited self-sufficiency and inhibited their cultural and socio-economic traditions. Land claims were also a major issue. The leaders felt that their autonomy and titles had been severely challenged by white settlers. It was in preparation for this trip that Sa7plek was given his new name, Kiyapalanexw (Capilano) – a hereditary title meant to emphasize his high status to the Crown. In London, the men were awarded 15 minutes of the King’s time, though their petition was not formally presented to the monarch. An excerpt of their letter reads:

To His Most Gracious Majesty King Edward VII,

Perhaps we are amongst the most remote of your majesty’s subjects, yet we give place to none in our loyalty and devotion to your majesty’s person, and to the British crown.

Our home is beyond the great Atlantic ocean, beyond the great inland seas of Canada, beyond the vast wheat-growing prairies of Manitoba, beyond the majestic Rocky mountains, away on shores of the Pacific ocean.

[...] Sir James Douglas told us that large numbers of white people would come to our country, and in order to prevent trouble he designated large tracts of land for our use, and told us that if any white people encroached upon those lands he would remove them, which he did [. . .] But when Sir James Douglas was no longer governor other white people settled upon our lands and titles were issued to them by the British Columbian government. We have appealed to the Dominion government which is made up of men elected by the white people who are living on our lands [...]

We have our families to keep the same as the white man, and we know how to work as well as the white man; then why should we not have the same privileges as the white man?

In the end, no discernable changes were implemented (though they did send him away with some autographed portraits). Chief Capilano subsequently severed ties with the Catholic Church and banned them from his settlement, feeling that they did not support his mission for equality and land rights. In turn, Catholic officials felt Capilano was becoming too radical – he did no longer impress the sort of influence they had originally planned for him. The government’s inaction ultimately led to the creation of province-wide political organizations including the Indian Tribes of the Province of British Columbia, the Nisga’a Land Committee, and the Allied Tribes of British Columbia, among others. Chief Capilano’s initiative, though immediately unsuccessful, inspired new generations of Native people to take charge of their political agency.

Despite being pegged as a “troublemaker” by some non-Native critics for his repeated attempts to organize tribes, upon his death in 1910, Native leaders and communities celebrated Chief Capilano as a powerful leader and icon. Today, the North Shore features many landmarks bearing his name, including Capilano Lake, River, Road, and University.

YOU SHOULD KNOW EVEN MORE

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to reveal to readers the many historial things that they already see but might not undertstand.

YOU SHOULD KNOW: About The 2400 Court & Vancouver’s Idyllic Post-War Car Culture

by Stevie Wilson | On a Kingsway drive out towards the ‘burbs, it’s easy to miss the scattering of unique older buildings – particularly because there aren’t too many of them left. One vestige of the Kingsway Corridor’s heyday (before it was simply a conduit to and from Metrotown) is the familiar 2400 Court, conveniently located smack-dab en route to The Big City. Boasting a freestanding vintage neon sign, famously plain stucco exteriors, and manicured lawns straight out of the ‘60s, this Streamline Modern oasis reflects the booming car and motel culture that pervaded many cities in the middle of the last century. Built in 1946, the three and a half acre site houses 18 detached buildings with 65 single units. It was originally envisioned as a home-away-from-home for tourists and visitors keen on taking advantage of their newfound motor mobility.

In its prime, 2400 Court featured hot water heating, a “chesterfield suite”, writing desk, mail service, Simmons mattresses, electric range, and more; basically “everything that goes to make your visit inviting, pleasant, and enjoyable”. Flash forward a few decades later and it’s a landmark for many generations of Vancouverites, an icon of post-war travel culture that is seen by many but recognized by few. It’s situated on what used to be the primary route into the city, and has, fortunately, received some significant care and upkeep over the years. A few famous guests (including special agents Scully and Mulder) have helped maintain the former Ma-and-Pop-run establishment as a point of interest for heritage buffs and tenants alike.

As a byway, Kingsway dates back to the 1870s, when it was then known as Westminster Road. Its abundance of gas stations, restaurants, and parks built from the 1920s into the 1940s presented it as an ideal thoroughfare to and from major destinations in the Lower Mainland. The completion of the Patullo Bridge in 1937 paved the way – so to speak – for a new crop of accommodations along a stretch that united towns and facilitated travel south to and from the US. For families living in the relatively comfortable post-war economic boom, a trip to nearby Wally’s Burgers and a stay at 2400 Court was likely a really swell time.

By the early 1960s the term “Motel” was introduced in place of “Court” to reflect a trend towards single, multi-unit hotel buildings as opposed to open, bungalow-style auto courts. As many historians and heritage experts have noted, the site is a truly pristine example of post-war car culture aesthetic amidst a sea of lackluster modern developments. A few years back, the future of 2400 Court was threatened by the development of the Norquay Neighbourhood Centre Plan. As of March 2013, it appears as if City Council will be moving forward with new zoning which will repurpose the entire area as “a medium density centre of shops, services and community spaces”, including high-density housing. Currently, the Motel sits in the Vancouver Heritage Society’s Top Ten List of Endangered Sites, with plenty of public support for its continued maintenance. The City purchased the area in 1989, so it remains to be seen what will become of it (hey, remember the El Dorado?).

The truth is, the sprawling design of the 2400 Motel can’t compete with more space saving modern developments. Inside, it’s outdated without much to offer any luxury-seeking tourists. Despite its visual appeal to mid-century enthusiasts and value as a reflection of post-war architecture, it’s simply not a contender in the hotel game these days – and it sits on prime real estate. And so the eternal question remains: what do we do with heritage that stands in the way of development? Is something “old” worth saving if we don’t have a use for it? That’s a tough call to make, to be sure. In the meantime, read more on the site’s heritage values in Birmingham & Wood’s Statement of Significance for the City, and maybe take a closer look next time you rush on by!

YOU SHOULD KNOW EVEN MORE

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to show you the things that you already see. Just nod your head and pretend you’re paying attention.

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YOU SHOULD KNOW: About The Local Nurse And Archivist Who Saved Vancouver

by Stevie Wilson | While a lot of Vancouverites might be familiar with celebrated local archivist Major James Skitt Matthews (aka “The Man Who Saved Vancouver”), there’s plenty to know about his wife and partner, Emily Matthews. Though not always recognized as such, “Mrs. J.S. Matthews” was James’ right hand in the organisation of the preliminary archives, and played an important role in procuring and cataloging Vancouver’s first recognized collection of reference documents. What’s more, she was a noted medical professional, too!

Emily Eliza Edwardes was born in 1879 and trained as a nurse at Vancouver City Hospital. After graduating in 1905 she moved to New York, where she ran the operating room at the Brooklyn Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Hospital. An ambitious and capable worker, she was quickly promoted to “Lady Superintendent”, but the long hours and stress of hospital planning (and an ambiguous abdominal tumor) caused her to fall very ill indeed. Once recovered, she returned to Canada for rest. Soon thereafter, however, the First World War broke out and she was called upon for service once again. In 1915 Emily joined the Canadian Expeditionary Force (CEF), joining the 2,411 Canadian nursing sisters enlisted overseas. She served in England, Egypt, and Salonika, and is noted as one of the survivors of the 1916 German torpedo attack on the Braemar Castle ship in the Aegean Sea. Emily was eventually discharged in 1919, recognized for her service and awarded the General Service and Victory Medals, among others.

James and Emily first met at the Vancouver City Hospital in 1902, when she worked as his nurse during a bout with typhoid. It wasn’t until 18 years later that they reconnected. A chance encounter at St. Paul’s Hospital caused him to reveal his admiration for his favourite nurse (she remembered him as a difficult patient). Emily had chosen to focus on her career rather than romance, so had never married. She was busy working as a massage therapist (at her own clinic, naturally), with James reeling from drawn-out divorce proceedings with his previous wife. True love eventually prevailed, and the two were married in September of 1920, three weeks after James’ divorce.

Their marriage came to be defined by their mutual involvement in the collection, organization, and development of historic Vancouver documents. Acting unofficially in his duties until a civic appointment in 1933, James kept the growing number of documents in various spots, including their modest home on Arbutus Street. Following a series of negotiations with City Council pertaining to the ownership and operation of the archives, these documents were ultimately incorporated to the City. Emily wasn’t just a mother (to their two cats, Jack and Jill), she was ultimately James’ partner, and her name features next to his on documents transferring ownership of archive materials. She also bequeathed a vast number of her personal documents, including wartime photographs, to the public archives.

In 1948, at the age of 73, Emily Matthews passed away after a battle with breast cancer. In her memory, Major Matthews designed and commissioned a stained glass window for Christ Church Cathedral, where her funeral took place. The Nurse Window, completed in 1950, stands as a tribute to nursing in Vancouver, and a vibrant memorial to Emily’s passion for caregiving. The City of Vancouver Archives acknowledges Emily as a co-founder and features a large bronze bust in her image, along with her husband. Because you know what they say: the couple that archives together stays together.

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to show you the things that you already see. Just nod your head and pretend you’re paying attention.

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YOU SHOULD KNOW: The Awesome History Of The Long Forgotten North Shore Ferries

by Stevie Wilson | Back in the mid 1860s, if you were looking to cross the Burrard Inlet from North Vancouver to Vancouver proper, you’d likely find yourself stuck in a private rowboat “captained” by “Navvy” Jack Thomas, a deserter from the Royal Navy. Fortunately in 1893, two years after the incorporation of the City of North Vancouver, a deal was inked with the Union Steamship Company to provide six scheduled (and far more accommodating) crossings a day. Until then, Navvy Jack and other small passenger boats – including the Sea Foam, the Chinaman, the Lily, the Elonora, and the Senator – bore the weight of intensifying residential and commercial activity in the area. Following a brief period in 1899 wherein the city reclaimed ownership of the service, the North Vancouver Ferry and Power Company took over. When the steam-powered North Vancouver Ferry No. 1 (aka the Norvan) proved too small to accommodate the growing Lonsdale population, sister ship North Vancouver Ferry No. 2 (aka the St. George) was launched with No. 3, No. 4, and No. 5 eventually joining the ranks as well.

Naturally, West Vancouver had a ferry company all its own. In 1905, John Lawson purchased 160 acres of auctioned North Shore land from the provincial government, and along with his brother-in-law William C. Thompson commissioned two boats to transport would-be residents and prospective lot buyers under the name of “West Vancouver Launch Service”. These freight and passenger ferries were an instrumental force in the development of the relatively isolated area, as travel to and from “over town” had previously been a process dependent on the kindness of passing boats (and some well-placed flags) due to its limited number of private properties and settlements. Only a handful of tugboats and pilot ships were available to carry passengers back and forth.

In 1909, West Vancouver authorized the formation of the West Vancouver Ferry Company (a new firm formed by Lawson and Thompson with Robert Macpherson and John Sinclair) to own and operate the service. Three years later, however, Lawson was eager to sell out. By 1912 he had spent over $11,500 on the service and boats, and wasn’t seeing much profit. In 1912, the newly minted municipality bought the company for just $6,000. With the purchase came two boats: the 34 passenger West Vancouver No. 1 (formerly a fishing boat named Eileen), and the 40-passenger Sea Foam (not be confused with the North Van vessel that blew up in 1867), built in 1906. The West Vancouver No. 1 operated from 1909 to 1915, when it was sold to a new operator. In 1928, she sank in Thunder Bay, BC.

In 1913, a proper terminal – housing a ticket office and a tea room - was constructed at the foot of 14th street. From the West Vancouver archives:

The West Vancouver terminus at the foot of 14th Street was the headquarters of the ferry fleet. The standard run was to the foot of Columbia Street on the Vancouver waterfront . The trip took 25 minutes and ran on the hour. It cost 10 cents, and later 15, and one could buy a fare card for 10 or 20 rides. The ferries ran seven-days-a-week and 18-hours-a-day, later increasing in frequency to every half hour and every 20 minutes during rush hour. The crew consisted of a skipper, engineer, and sometimes a mate, who would circulate and punch the tickets and sometimes there was a lookout man too. The larger ferries had divided cabins – the fore-cabin was for smokers and was known as the “glory hole” – non-smokers reeled out of it, choking.

Of course, riding the ferry wasn’t without its hazards.

At 8:47 am on Monday, February 4, 1935, in thick fog, the West Vancouver No. 5 was westbound for the 14th Street terminus, reportedly on course, at a slow speed and approaching Prospect Point, when the sharp steel bow of the much bigger CPR ship “Princess Alice” loomed out of the fog. The “Alice” was inbound from Seattle, 47 minutes late. There was no time to try to dodge and the “Alice’s” bow cut into the ferry at an acute angle on the port side of the after cabin. It was obvious that the ferry would sink immediately. Luckily she carried few passengers on that trip, and only one (the elderly Mrs. William E. Burritt) was trapped, below decks. The bow of the “Alice” pinned her against the side of the cabin. Captain Darius Smith , aided by mate Hayes and lookout Arnold Garthorne, made valiant efforts to free her but the ferry went down so fast that the others had to drag Capt. Smith out before he went down with her.

But the end of the ferries was an eventual consequence of the opening of the Second Narrows Bridge in 1925 and then the Lions Gate Bridge in 1938. The two bridges rendered them impractical. Due to the security restrictions on bridge use, increased gas rationing, and the expense of bus fare, the ferries delayed their closure until after WWII. A referendum held in 1945 revealed that 80% of the population favoured the discontinuation of the service. In 1947, West Vancouver’s boats had their last sailing, followed by North Vancouver’s ferry farewell in 1958.

The Ferry Building in Ambleside, originally used as a ticket office and waiting room, still operates today as an art gallery. In Tofino, the North Vancouver #1 ferry is still intact, albeit tremendously weatherworn, as an above-water installment and accommodations on Strawberry Island. The North Vancouver Ferry No. 5 was repurposed into the Seven Seas Restaurant in Lonsdale until it was decommissioned in 2001, and the last remaining West Vancouver ferry, the Hollyburn, was run under Harbour Ferries as a tour boat before being scrapped in February, 2010.

And then came the Seabus, but…well…that’s another story.

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to show you the things that you already see. Just nod your head and pretend you’re paying attention.

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YOU SHOULD KNOW: The Fishy History Of 611 Alexander On The Downtown Eastside

by Stevie Wilson | Nestled near the end of Railtown’s industrial promenade, the modern steel and glass elevator installation at 611 Alexander suggests the building hasn’t been in place for more than a few decades. Its contemporary facade, however, is deceptive; this wasn’t always a design and commerce center – it used to produce cans of fish. In 1913, the American Can Company acquired independent company Cliff & Sons, and thirteen years later a 363,000 square-foot plant was built at the intersection of Alexander and Princess. Architect and engineer Carl G. Preis designed the building, in additional to several other North American locations including Portland and Montreal. Featuring large windows and typically corporate-style design, it was, for many years, one of the largest reinforced concrete structures in the city. To build the tin can processing plant, rows of homes and popular brothels – indicated sometimes by madams’ names printed on the front tiles – were demolished. The busy Red Light District which encompassed the 500 and 600-block of Alexander would eventually move west into Chinatown and, later, to East Georgia, leaving this area to develop in its proximity to the port.

The site attracted workers from across the city, including newly landed immigrants taking root in the Strathcona North neighbourhood (perhaps because the clatter of punch presses was heard for blocks throughout the nightshift). During the Great Depression, the sprawling industrial landscape featured development nearby of shanties and dilapidated sheds housing out of luck WWI veterans and other poor on the site of the old Hastings Sawmill. These were described as the “’Jungles’ of 1931”, and contemporary reports by city archivist Major James Skitt Matthews indicate that at one point the population rose to two hundred and forty men. A July 1931 edition of the Vancouver Sun features a glimpse into the conditions of these sites.

In wartime, women accounted for half the work force at the ACC, where incredibly loud machinery necessitated the use of signals, lip-reading, and carefully observed routines. Earplugs were eventually deemed mandatory in later years (go figure). At its height, the ACC produced over 350 million cans annually, primarily related to fishing. The company did more than just can BC salmon though: apple sauce tins and beer cans were also part of production. It also built the canning materials for other local industries, including the Gulf of Georgia Cannery in Richmond.

By 1975 the number of labourers had dwindled to just over 300, due to advances in technology and the export of canning production to Ontario and Quebec. In 1988, the building was repurposed. Celebrated BC architect Bruno Freschi (of Expo ’86 fame) transformed the site into office and studios: a “chic design centre” where, according to historian Harold Kalman, the old and new was “mated”, as it were, as a reimagined commercial and artistic space. Currently housing the SFU School for the Contemporary Arts, Anne Star Textile Agency, and Artizia’s head offices (among others), this unique building continues to play a role in the city’s vibrant commercial industries. Legend has it that sometimes at night, when the moon is full, the old punch presses can still be heard, softly clacking away. Just kidding.

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to show you the things that you already see. Just nod your head and pretend you’re paying attention.

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YOU SHOULD KNOW: How The Penthouse Nightclub Became An X-Rated Local Icon

by Stevie Wilson | When you find yourself stuffed in a room elbow-to-elbow with Randy Rampage of D.O.A., Nardwuar, and women in feather headdresses, you know you’re in the right place. I certainly was, when I recently had the pleasure of attending the book launch for Liquor, Lust, and the Law. The work is an informative, passionate history of the Penthouse’s rise to stardom in Vancouver’s nightclub scene. While the launch party boasted a larger-than-life atmosphere with big band music, plenty of drinks, and even a teary-eyed speech from owner Danny Filippone, the star of the show that night was truly the establishment’s history. Rightfully so, for the Penthouse’s status as a historical landmark, complete with its own Heritage Vancouver tours, preceded the night’s celebrations, with the new publication capping off a long list of historical recognitions.

The first book to be published on the Penthouse, penned by local writer and musician Aaron Chapman, provides an additionally detailed account of the Filippone family, whose patriarch Giuseppe purchased the lot at 1019 Seymour Street in the early 1940s.

Initially operated as Eagle Time Delivery Systems and Diamond Cabs, and later Eagle Time Athletics, the space eventually transformed into an after-hours hotspot catering to those disenchanted with the lackluster Vancouver nightlife. Prohibition-era raids, bottle-club shenanigans, and true tales of celebrity encounters (including a curious story of Louis Armstrong cooking spaghetti) are but a few of the topics discussed in this unique retrospective.

Besides the infamous legacy of the Penthouse’s legal woes and Joe Philippone’s 1983 murder, there are plenty other exciting elements of the club’s history worth exploring, and Chapman does an excellent job demonstrating the inextricable relationship between the notorious establishment and the family that poured their heart and soul into it. There’s plenty of stories to tell: how Joe Filippone welcomed African American entertainers in a time where most venues (like the Hotel Vancouver) wouldn’t; how an incredible list of patrons, including Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, and even Led Zeppelin cemented the Penthouse as a heavyweight in the cabaret scene of the 1940s through the 1970s; and just how many cabinet ministers enjoyed the exotic dancers and Vegas-style entertainment… Read more

YOU SHOULD KNOW: How Vancouver’s Women Seized Their “Freedom Of Choice”

by Stevie Wilson | Unless you’ve were living under a rock over the last few months, you’re probably aware of the seriously misguided and dangerous views belonging to a number of Republican politicians who were running for office in the United States. After talking about “legitimate” rape and rape as God’s will, they lost. Nevertheless, up here in the “safe” north it was an incredible spectacle to observe, one that made plenty of Canadian women thankful that we don’t have to have our health and bodies governed by somebody’s old grandpa. But while we take for granted the protected rights of women in our own country, the legacy of Vancouver’s legislation on the subject is one that warrants a second glance.

The 1960′s in Vancouver were a time of liberation and civic action. The decade featured many “firsts” on the road towards economic and social equality for women. To this end, in 1968, the Vancouver Women’s Caucus was formed, a group that would ultimately change the face of protest in Canada and pave the way for the freedom of choice in our country. The Caucus united around the ideals of human rights and the repeal of Canada’s abortion laws, which until a reform in 1969 under the Trudeau administration had been illegal, including in instances where the mother’s life was at risk. The Criminal Code was amended in that year to allow licensed physicians to perform abortions once it had been approved (by a white male doctor), with the definition of “mother’s health” still vague and inherently subjective. Prior to this amendment, it’s estimated that twelve thousand Canadian women died each year from botched self-attempts. The Criminal Code had no provisions for rape victims.

The inadequacies of this ruling provoked several Caucus demonstrations across Vancouver, the first of them – and the very first in Canada of its kind – taking place in 1970. Shortly after, the Caucus arranged what became known as the “Abortion Caravan” and set out across Canada attracting support and volunteers to protest in Ottawa. A coffin filled with coat hangers atop a Volkswagen van (a powerful, if disturbing display) arrived in Ottawa with over 500 women – a far cry from the 17 they had started with – and set to work organizing a scheme which included circling the Centennial flame with the aforementioned coffin. Other ladies, under the guise of “respectable” women with heels, lipstick, and fancy blouses, partnered with other local feminist groups and marched into the House of Commons to demand pro-choice legislation.

In true protest fashion, the women chained themselves to the parliamentary gallery, each taking their turn to demand the right to choose for themselves. Minister of Justice John Turner was ultimately swayed by their efforts, and agreed to “review” the law that approved only 3% of Vancouver women who applied for licensed abortions. This would mark the first time in 103 years the House of Commons was shut down by a “gallery disturbance”.

In 1988 the Criminal Code was finally amended to legalize abortions, with a second wave of feminist pro-choice movements, including Take Back the Night, gaining momentum in the subsequent years. Though the modern feminist may not identify with the whole coffin full of coat hangers thing, one may still agree that sometimes you’ve got to yell to have your voice heard.

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to show you the things that you already see. Just nod your head and pretend you’re paying attention.

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YOU SHOULD KNOW: About The Groovy History Of Kitsilano’s Iconic “Naam” Eatery

by Stevie Wilson | We’re often inclined to forget that the buildings, spaces, and events that impact our lives (or don’t) had tremendous effects on those who experienced them before us -especially if these places are still in use. One example of this divide between our past and present notions of Vancouver are the food choices we face every day. You may take that veggie-dog-wrapped-in-cheesy-bread for granted, but just think of how noteworthy vegetarian meal options would have been in 1969.

As a case study for changing attitudes towards “rabbit food”, the Naam on West 4^th presents a unique cultural keystone that has aided in establishing both a community and a lifestyle for many Vancouverites. Founded in 1970 (or ‘68 depending on who you ask) on the principles of natural, animal-free cuisine influenced by Eastern philosophies and traditions, the Naam Café opened at 2722 West 4th (later 2724) in a space that had previously housed a fish & chips shop, a coffee bar, and a laundromat, among other businesses. Entering this busy district as a small eatery, the Naam would eventually take on many names and forms, including Naam Restaurant in 1980, Naam Store Grocery in 1982, and finally Naam Natural Food Restaurant in 1985. It’s said that the founders and followers of the Naam’s food movement were inspired by the teachings of guru Kirpal Singh, whose eponymous work translates from the Sanskrit for ‘’Name’’. Earlier followers of Singh, and devotees of the associated Surat Shabd Yoga, had previously opened a small Georgia Street café called God’s Little Kitchen.

As our city’s oldest natural food spot (not to be confused with the first vegetarian restaurant, a distinction that belongs to the nearby Golden Lotus Natural Foods in 1967), there’s a rich cultural history entrenched in the walls of this former 1930’s silk shoppe, one that continues to define and be re-defined by new generations. When Golden Lotus, which offered a Buddha’s Feast for 50 cents, shut its doors in the early ‘70s, enlightened flower children were drawn to the new restaurant on Rainbow Road – conveniently opened by a former cook of Golden Lotus – in droves, effectively creating a new mecca for counter-culture enthusiasts who were shunned by other establishments. Situated amongst other spiritually-focused shops such as Banyen Books (born out of a reading corner in Golden Lotus), Lifestream, and Nature’s Path, the community for Vancouver’s young eco-conscious population was vibrant. Anti-war activists, hippies, would-be Greenpeace members and more gathered at the Naam to discuss, eat, and live life in tune with tofu.

In addition to offering what one researcher aptly referred to as “stoner food”, the Naam’s menu has evolved over the years to feature vegan options as well as macrobiotic dishes, and caters to a wide variety of vegetarians, non-vegetarians, and hungry UBC students alike. Being one of the only 24hr spots in the city, it boasts a philosophy and atmosphere that hasn’t changed much over the years save for the influx of younger servers, who may or may not be under the same influences as their predecessors.

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to show you the things that you already see. Just nod your head and pretend you’re paying attention.

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YOU SHOULD KNOW: About The City’s Old Love Affair With Eugenics & Better Babies

by Stevie Wilson | Imagine finding this gem in your parents’ keepsakes: “Doris Kathleen Manson has been duly examined for physical and mental development according to the Better Babies Standard Score Card…” And wee little Doris wasn’t alone. The Vancouver Exhibition’s “Better Baby Contest,” started in 1913, preyed upon the new wave of eugenics interest inspired by the radical pseudo-science of the early twentieth century, and marked a brand new low for racism and irrational immigration fears amongst Vancouver’s growing population. Striving for a “defensive naturalism of the status quo”, middle-class (white) mothers entered their tots in these contests to be examined and praised for Anglo-definitive traits and other “desirable” attributes. In these strange ranking ceremonies, which only gained in popularity before moving to New Westminster’s Queens Park in 1919, having the most beautiful baby was, in essence, a self-indulgent affirmation that your child “protected” the social landscape against the proliferation of unwanted ‘hereditary temperament”. All this excitement over beautiful babies masked a serious fear and growing focus on eugenics, “race suicide”, and finding the “premium” versions of humanity.

Baby contests were truly the tip of the iceberg. By 1916, Western Canadian responses to fears over the perceived  “non-assimilable” nature of certain groups led to a campaign for a eugenics school that supported sterilization of ‘feeble-minded’ individuals and other phenomenal practices to address the “immigration problem”. Scientific racism of this period targeted “Orientals” (a blanket description for Japanese, Chinese, East Indians, and others), and Native indigenous peoples. For North American women in particular, the practices of these “Progressives” were especially appealing.  Diane B. Paul notes “to many activist middle-class women, eugenics seemed a natural part of [the] wider movement to engage the state in new kinds of social reform”. In focusing on this conception of family and their own role in the propagation of a “healthy” race, it’s no surprise that many Vancouver women jumped at the chance for their babies to be examined and ranked.

Following the First World War, xenophobia and the reality that so many middle-class Anglo-Saxon men had died in the conflict contributed to a logic that viewed wives and children as “national assets” that needed protection. Vancouver didn’t invent Better Babies contests (they were held all over Canada and the United States), but we certainly loved them – so much so that they were held in conjunction with the PNE’s agricultural fair (animal breeding and baby breeding: a winning eugenics combination). It’s said that the first 1913 contest was “somewhat misunderstood by the general public” (oh really?), with babies of the same age examined side-by-side. This “display of infantile perfection”, evolved into a serious medical endeavor with many babies being disqualified for breaching the weight limits. By 1917 the contest had to limit the number of contestants to 1000, with ticket sales generating $347. Before moving to New Westminster, the 1918  “purely scientific” contest was intended “to secure constant improvement in the physical condition of the babies of Vancouver”. Like most complex histories, there’s also those who celebrate the legacy of these contests, arguing that we have them to thank for child welfare services and the Children’s Hospital. All in all, an interesting and upsetting piece of Vancouver history to think about during the next episode of Honey Boo Boo.

More information on this topic can be found in: Gerald E Thomson, “‘A Baby Show Means Work in the Hardest Sense’: The Better Baby Contests of the Vancouver and New Westminster Local Councils of Women, 1913-1929,” BC Studies no. 28, Winter 2000/2001.

YOU SHOULD KNOW: About The History Of Sunrise Market On The Downtown Eastside

by Stevie Wilson | Situated on the corner of Powell and Gore in Nihonmachi, the Japanese name for the Powell Street area, Sunrise Market and its neighbours offer a complex narrative that blends modern and historical identities to produce one of our city’s most unique palimpsests. Although recognized as a landmark in Vancouver’s Japantown (an area yet to be heritage-designated by the city), founder Leslie Joe and his wife Susan actually immigrated to Vancouver from China. Accounts suggest that the business may have actually been started by Joe’s uncle, prior to him taking ownership in 1956, and had been located elsewhere on Powell (perhaps without an English name) before moving to its current address. Inspired by the local demand for tofu in the Asian communities, the Joes began producing small batches in the back of the shop. Today Sunrise Soya is the top producer of tofu in Canada, with a large manufacturing plant housing 200 employees. Sunrise Market has stayed true to its community roots, and continues to attract a wide variety of shoppers of all cultures and cuisines.

The location of Sunrise at Powell and Gore on the Downtown Eastside is an especially important feature of its decades-long success and contributes heavily to its status as a landmark in the community and beyond. In the grand scheme of Japantown’s incredible history – one that cannot begin to be detailed in a short article – Sunrise is a relative newcomer. The busy market stands along a stretch of buildings and businesses that tell a long and intricate history of the success, oppression, racism, and expansion experienced (not necessarily in that order) by the Japanese community in Vancouver and surrounding areas – including the 7th September 1907 attack and subsequent riots by the Asiatic Exclusion League.

Prior to the establishment of the market, the address was home to Suzuki Fruit & Liquor in 1920, Yamamoto Fruits in 1936, and Kawasaki Confectioner, which boasted a wide assortment of Japanese treats. Sunrise has expanded next door into the Fuji Chop Suey Building at 314 Powell. Fuji Chop Suey was heralded as one of the important locales contributing to the development of the area’s rich multiculturalism from 1931-1942. Like Sunrise’s diverse Asian marketplace, this establishment focused on Japanese-style Chinese cuisine and was one of the only restaurants at the time where Japanese-Canadian women and children could enter. Later, the federal government used the banquet hall to organize the displacement of Japanese-Canadians during the the Second World War.

Founded well after the end of the war, Sunrise has contributed to the cultural revitalization of an area that never fully recovered from the property confiscation and internment that the Japanese community was subjected after Imperial Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbour. Despite the Chinese background of the founders, the Joe family has made a significant effort to celebrate Japanese and numerous other cultural influences in their business, not least of which being the fantastic commissioned murals referencing Japanese ornamental motifs, Chinese dragons, and a native moon mask commemorating the murdered women of the Downtown Eastside. Layered with several complex histories, and contrasting associations and memories, the market was built upon and perpetuates a historical and heritage lineage that has changed and developed over time. Plus they offer great deals on fruit, too!

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to show you the things that you already see. Just nod your head and pretend you’re paying attention.

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YOU SHOULD KNOW: About The “Places That Matter” In Vancouver’s Past & Present

by Stevie Wilson | Michael Marrus, one of the great Canadian scholars on memory studies, once referred to Historians as “custodians of (the) public memory.” I’ve taken his words to heart. In a city that boasts hundreds of events and instances each year that publicly and privately mold our relationship with our past, there’s a significant amount of ‘cleaning up’ to do to ensure we choose to remember is as meaningful as it is appropriate. Through our relationship with ceremonies and celebrations we interact with the past in innumerable ways, and these ways are in and of themselves tools to frame experiences we didn’t actually have. When we visit the boring, typified war cenotaph on Hastings and Cambie or eat at the re-purposed, hipster-meets-history Save On Meats down the street, we’re engaging in the past in specific and often counter-intuitive ways. It’s important to remember what these vehicles of memory are imparting on us. While it’s true that concentrating on memory studies theory each time we think about history could drive us crazy, it’s nevertheless a fascinating exercise: what we celebrate, designate, and experience as history is dictated not be the events of the past, but entirely by the present. Read more

YOU SHOULD KNOW: About The History Of Vancouver’s Iconic Hastings Racecourse

by Stevie Wilson | A few weekends ago I met a man who changed my summer forever. His name was Little Brown Guy, and he won me forty bucks at the Hastings Racecourse. While I’m not necessarily an advocate of gambling, it’s worth mentioning that LBG and his pals are an exciting feature of an oft-forgotten Vancouver landmark that deserves a little attention – and not just because it’s free to enter.

The Hastings Racecourse, situated adjacent to the PNE at the bottom of Hastings Park (formerly East Park), was established in 1892 on a 15-acre plot of land by the BC Jockey Club. Three decades earlier, the area surrounding the future PNE site and track had been known as New Brighton, a weekend retreat for leisurely New Westminsterites who were drawn to its scenic views, the New Brighton Hotel, and the area’s propensity for pioneering (New Brighton was home to Vancouver’s first telephone, first road, its first real-estate transaction, and more). The construction of the new track was intended to relocate the already popular horseracing activities that took place near the corner of Howe and Nelson, near the original Hotel Vancouver. Chosen for its central location – only 4 miles from the downtown Granville Townsite – the track preceded the development of the PNE’s Annual Fair by 18 years and provided the focus for East Park’s entertainment until Playland – known originally as HappyLand – opened in 1926.

The original half-mile oval experienced tremendous renovation efforts spanning the twentieth century, including a mid-century rotation and relocation requiring the demolition of several PNE buildings and the original rollercoaster. With horseracing as the opening event for much of the PNE’s early years, the track was a popular spot for visitors as well as local fans, echoing the excitement and popularity it had experienced during the late 1890s. During the Second World War, races were transferred to Hastings from the Brighouse and Lansdown tracks to accommodate gas rationing, proving that even in times of crises Vancouverites loved to place their bets. A second renovation prior to the 1965 season saw the construction of the grandstand, lengthening of the track, and is rumoured to have employed old cars from the PNE Demolition Derby to level the 19-foot slope difference. Financial restraints and the numerous changes in park ownership over the years reflect a focus on attendee experience, with trainers noting that the track features the same barns it did 50 years ago.

Currently boasting over 45-acres of land, the racecourse remains a bustling mecca of sport offering gambling enthusiasts, tourists, families, and thrill-seekers of all ages a taste of our city’s great views and fast-paced entertainment. Even if you’re not interested in placing any bets (despite the process being notably geared towards first-timers), this historic attraction takes full advantage of our enviable Vancouver summer: hot dogs, sun, and mountain panoramas. What’s better than a crowded beach and sand in your warm beer? A horse, of course!

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to show you the things that you already see. Just nod your head and pretend you’re paying attention.

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YOU SHOULD KNOW: About The History Of The Cedar Cottage Neighbourhood

by Stevie Wilson | Before the dollar stores, cheap dosa spots, and abundance of basement suites spanning Fraser to Nanaimo, the Kensington-Cedar Cottage neighbourhood was a unique development area that played an essential role in cultivating the economic and cultural landscape of late nineteenth-century Vancouver. While it’s true that there was an actual Cedar Cottage Brewery in the area, the nomenclature of this diverse and expansive area goes much farther back than that. During the 1870s, pioneers of the Granville Townsite purchased a series of land plots along what would become the Kingsway corridor – it was then known than as Westminster Road (“Kingsway” wasn’t paved and named until 1913).

Following the establishment of an interurban tram system between the newly established Vancouver and New Westminster, the station named “Epworth” (also known as Cedar Cottage) contributed to the development of communities surrounding the area that is now home to the Croatian Cultural Center. Until its amalgamation into Vancouver in 1929, the area south of 15th Avenue was originally deemed South Vancouver, and would serve as a bustling commercial hotspot in the early 1900s, featuring Marfew Hall, “the largest hall in South Vancouver”. Centered around Commercial Street, between 15th and 20th Avenues, the epicentre of Cedar Cottage grew to include a silent movie theatre, a bank, a hardware store, and later, a roller coaster. The roller coaster didn’t last – the Depression of 1913 deemed this sort of thing a luxury – and neither did the growing economic and commercial intensity of this area that was “just like downtown, jammed with shoppers”. The pride and joy of area residents? The city’s only lake: Trout Lake, or as it was known in the 1870s, Blackie’s Lake.

Mr. Arthur Wilson built the actual cottage at the center of this history in 1886, having purchased 35 acres of land spanning the area of Knight and Kingsway. Wilson’s lot featured a grove of cedar trees and, as every old photograph of the area attests, it wasn’t the only one. The area was filled with vast expanses of trees, small homes, and Gibson Creek, one of the many salmon-filled waterways that fed into the China Creek system. Like China Creek, Gibson was eventually turned into a park after receding into a garbage dump.

In 1901 George Raywood built the Cedar Cottage Brewery at 1404 Kingsway, later known as Benson’s. Before becoming a mid-century Safeway, complete with requisite 20-year redevelopment restrictions, the brewery offered bottled beer delivered to your door for 75 cents. The development of Knight Street (formerly Knight Road) beginning in 1893, the Clark-Knight Diversion in 1907, and the Knight Street Bridge in 1974 all led to a denouement of the “cottage” era as KCC grew into a major thoroughfare and commuter route – recent cultural and economic revitalization notwithstanding.

Kensington-Cedar Cottage is a large area, bordering the region of Broadway up to 41st Ave, and features a history to match. Reflecting on the diversification, expansion, and changing character of our city, the neighbourhood offers more than a route to the suburbs. Despite it’s transition into an urban landscape, it’s a unique historical area, with plenty of stories as rich as the more archetypal over-emphasized “heritage” areas (I’m looking at you, Gastown). Check it out on a walking tour. You might just learn to love that basement suite of yours.

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Stevie Wilson is an historian masquerading as a writer. After serving as an editor for the UBC History Journal, she’s decided to branch out with a cryptic agenda: encouraging the people of Vancouver to take notice of their local history and heritage with You Should Know, a Scout column that aims to show you the things that you already see. Just nod your head and pretend you’re paying attention.

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