UBC's Old Fire Hall
the iconic red firehall is on the way out as campus intensification continues
Capitalist era heritage is relatively recent historically and conceptually when compared with coastal First Nations who trace time in millennia. In the course of one research project back home on the north coast called Laxyuup Gitxaała we dated the oldest part of several Gitxaała villages to more than 4000 years old. Exploring the soil stratigraphy showed continuous occupation through that duration. The large cedar plank homes along the front of those old village sites had stood in virtually the same place through those long millennia. Theses house, occasionally rebuilt, remained stable in place as Gitxaała society prospered and grew.
Contemporary society seems to enter a new era every decade or less. Each iteration is said to be an improvement on the last, a transformative change with an innovative approach. Whereas Indigenous society places value in learning one’s history and maintaining a stable prosperous community, contemporary capitalist society features the destructive power of reimagining production and expanding economic activities on a continuous basis. This transformative attribute of capitalist enterprise is foregrounded in all manner of projects: “New knowledge, new ways of thinking, new solutions for society: that’s the promise …” Even as these ways of thinking remain remarkably fixated on acquisition and individualistic accumulation.
Keeping an ‘old’ fire house (built in 1926, last used as a fire hall in 1982) won’t change the big picture. Reflecting on what the fire hall is and how it came to be expendable might lead us to think about the problematic dynamic of constant growth and change and ask if perhaps a better path might be found rooted in this coastline’s Indigenous life and history.
As I write it is not clear if the Old Fire Hall will be kept or not. What is known is it will either be destroyed or moved to make way for the Faculty of Commerce’s planned 11 story tower. This tower is being built over top of the former Powerhouse and the Old Fire Hall sites.
The Old Fire Hall
The Old Fire Hall was built in 1926 in what was then the heart of campus. The University Fire Station on West Mall remained in service until 1982 and was part of the UEL Fire Department until 1995 when the provincial government made a deal with the City of Vancouver who then took over fire protection of all of Point Grey. That deal has led to concerns in the UNA’s jurisdiction where UBC has passed the costs on to residents (despite the university having the larger institutional footprint).
The heritage value of the Old Fire Hall is described in a 2016 statement of significance:
“The Old Fire Hall is valued for its campus location, its exterior form and character that reflect its original use as a fire hall, its array of rooms that supported the storage of fire fighting vehicles and accommodation of fire fighters, and its history of re-purposed use since being a fire hall, but primarily for being among the earliest buildings built on campus, opening just one year following the construction of the first academic and administration buildings.”
“The Old Fire Hall, by virtue of its location on West Mall, is an enduring campus presence since the University’s first years at Point Grey. It joined the very earliest cluster of buildings on campus: the Science building (today part of the Chemistry building), the Library, the nine “semipermanent” buildings (Arts, Agriculture, Applied Science, Administration, the Auditorium, four laboratory/workshop buildings) and the adjacent Power House – all of which were completed just one year earlier. With these inaugural structures, the Old Fire Hall helps delineate the precinct of the earliest campus.”
“The Old Fire Hall exterior form and character are important as an example of traditional Public Works design in the early 20th Century, with its imagery and modest level of detailing having roots in the Arts & Crafts movement. The great contrasts of scale and style between the Old Fire Hall’s and its surrounding buildings is perhaps the clearest evidence of the evolution of the University in scale and cultural ambitions.”
When I asked UBC what their plans were, Matthew Roddis, Associate Director Campus Design, replied via email July 26, 2023:
“a number of additions have been made to the original structure over the years which have changed the look and size of the building from its original design. The building was always envisioned1 to be moved somewhat to create sufficient space for a new academic facility on that site – we are currently assessing all the options for the building. We’re also evaluating possible uses that would give it new utility and operational funding. So, in short, no decision has been made and we’re still working through the assessment and evaluation of options.”
In response to sharing the above section of this story to Campus & Community Planning and UBC Facilities, Matthew added the following comment by email on July 28, 2023:
“Thanks for sharing this part of your story with us.”
“We are working hard to find
aplace and use for the Firehall that respects the heritage resource values and ensures a viable future. There’s a lot of support to find a home for the Firehall. The policy for heritage evaluation is laid out in the Vancouver Campus Plan. Specifically, Policy 43 identifies heritage listed resources “that embody cultural meaning to the campus community that shall be retained where viable. Viability is determined by comparing the costs, functionality, campus fit and ecological and heritage impacts of retention versus replacement.””“This process is currently underway and includes a technical assessment of options. Our staff assessment and recommendations will be shared publicly as part of the BoG 2 report targeted for September.”2
Life of the Hall
Phillip McCrum, one of the faculty whose art studio is in the Old Fire Hall told me there have been many visitors to the hall over the past few years and months. Business folk, engineers, architects, planners, and various university luminaries. Sometimes the visitors had keys, other times they knocked on the door. This one time they banged on the front door.
“I wasn’t that keen on opening the door,” Phillip said. But he did. At the door he found a group of retired firefighters on a cycling trip. They had worked at the UBC Fire Hall before it was decommissioned in 1982. Phillip let them in. As the fire fighters toured they reminisced about their time there. They commented on things that had been changed and pointed out the former functions of the spaces that are now studios. Two worlds of work came together in that visit to a building that has been an art studio almost as long as it was a fire hall.
I had arranged my own visit by emailing the three faculty who currently have studios in the Old Fire Hall. Phillip McCrum and Gareth James were able to reply and agreed to my visiting. Which I did July 25, 2023.
There are three studios in the Old Fire Hall. One is in the NW corner of the building (I wasn’t able to visit this studio as its occupant wasn’t present). Gareth’s studio occupies the ground floor garages and old locker room. Phillip’s is on the upper floor of the central block.
I arrived at the north entrance door that had been propped open in anticipation of my visit. I called hello. Two voices answered back. Shortly thereafter Gareth appeared at the door to his studio. Phillip stepped onto the landing outside the door to his studio. The tour began.
Phillip came down the stairs. We said our hellos. Gareth then took me into his studio, the former garages of the fire hall. One could see the original structure, the wood wall covers, the old pipes and fittings. The workplace feel of the old fire hall was clear. It felt like visiting my father’s now decommissioned fishing boat - that sense of a repurposed old work place with tales to tell. The form of the fire hall was complimented by the works of art on tables and the floor. Drawings were pinned and taped to walls and boards around the studio. It felt lived in.
We spoke about the possibly of play in creativity; the freedom of process the space enabled. Gareth and Phillip both talked of the importance of having the capacity to make a mess as critical in the creative process. I was struck by how the orderly and constrained sense of space described in the Sauder Expansion Project materials contrasted with the disordered acts of creation the garage studio made possible.
Gareth works with ordinary objects and transforms them into thoughtful provocative installations (see one example). On the floor of his studio was a slice from an old cedar tree, removed from Pacific Spirit Park after a storm (a companion piece can be found in New Yorks Museum of Modern Art). Dimensional lumber was stacked around the edges of the studio. Two tables were covered with works in progress. Design was evident, but so too was playful disorder.
Sauder’s Expansion Project consultation webpage documents an attempt to program into existence (through variously named innovative business transformation rooms in the proposed 11 story tower) a similar -in business terms- creative space. The proposed 11 story tower exemplifies a desire to control by programming and defining space.
Gareth and Phillip spoke to me about other artists who have used the studios and the creative freedom the space provided. One such was Richard Prince (recently retired) who spent nearly 40 years working in the Old Fire Hall Studios. There is an idea of predecessors leaving traces, creating history, that informs the work of those who follow. As I explored the lower floor studio Gareth showed me his office that was lined along one wall with the original lockers used by the fire fighters. Many of their names were still on the lockers. One of them even had Richard Prince’s name on it.
Richard retired in 2018. In 2017-2018 he had a show called ‘Tales from the Old Fire Hall.’ In this video he takes the viewer on a tour of his work, much of which was created in the Old Fire Hall.
[Video originally posted to facebook.]
Fate of the Fire Hall
We don’t know what will become of the fire hall except that once the excavators start work it won’t be left in it’s current location. I asked the studio occupants where they would be moved after the Old Fire Hall is no more. They didn’t know. I sensed they were resigned to the impending end of this unique and productive space.
In an email following our meeting Gareth said:
“speaking for myself, I don’t have much confidence that our concerns will be heard and given much consideration in the process (knowing how disconnected the upper levels of large institutions like ours can be from the experiences on the ground, esp. given that none of the current occupants have been consulted to date) which I think is what you interpreted as our being resigned to losing the Old Fire Hall. But both faculty and staff within the department are strongly voicing our objections to the current plans this week during the (extremely brief) consultation window.”
Such cultural struggles underscore the presentism of capitalist development projects. It reveals a fetishization of a culture of capital accumulation. One merely needs to ask ‘where is the Ethel Wilson Sound Recording Library3?’ Or ‘where is the Sedgwick Library?’ to appreciate the campus cultural transformation. Wilson and Sedgwick are erased under the weight of a newer building carrying the name of an industrialist who paid to have their name over the door. ‘Transformative’ renaming and ‘innovative’ infill construction brings a shift from creative -less regulated spaces- into tightly programable official space. Left behind buildings, awkwardly sited in the wake of ongoing development, animate spaces differently than the heavily programmed spaces that are today’s fashion.
I appreciate a building built to specifications of early twentieth century fire protection standards is a pale shadow of heritage when compared to the millennia long Indigenous occupation of this coast. When I first came upon the development sign for the Sauder Expansion Project in front of the Powerhouse and Old Fire Hall I wondered about the lives spent working and living inside these buildings. What memories had been made here, what will be erased forever, what might we be able to retain?
Gareth reminded me that there are other ways to do this.
“There already is,” Gareth said, within architectural aesthetic debates, an important strand of thought about how to combine the need for new spaces and architectural experiences without simply bulldozing the old architectural markers of memory and history. It’s a way of thinking that attempts to combine ecological, historical, political and aesthetic imperatives. It certainly would be nice to see that UBC remain as committed today to nurturing innovative architectural practice, as it was in the 60s and 70s with the Power Plant additions that this building will replace.”
This story, and the accompanying Powerhouse story, is a small nod to remembering the importance of history-telling and the people who made the tales into history.
I asked for documentation on this idea that “the building was always envisioned to be moved.” No direct answer to this question was provided as of date of publication.
[Disclosure: I sit on the UBC Board of Governors as an elected faculty governor. I am not, however, a member of the Property Committee that will deal with this specific issue, which may or may not be in open session. As this is a ‘BoG 2’ decision, it has been delegated to the small group of governors who have been appointed to the property committee and won’t be discussed at the full board unless a governor requests it.]
What was once an entire physical space filled with vinyl records has since become a shelf of cds in the music library after the building of Koerner Library repurposed it’s space within the former Sedgwick Library. It has been said the Koerner Library has fewer books and more administrative offices (including the president, provost, and a host of financial folks) than the long erased Sedgwick Library did.