April 22, 2000

Lecture Three
Physical Development and Change in Collingwood

Most towns are identified by their physical characteristics, their buildings, streets and lay-out. It is to these issues that we turn to today.

In 1855, when the railway arrived, there was almost nothing here. Hurontario Street had been constructed north from Duntroon and Nottawa to the Bay, and it became the main focus for the new town.

Two street lay-outs were proposed by resident William Gibbard, a surveyor, in 1854, both variations on a theme, and grand. Gibbard proposed locating the rail corridor on the west side of the town, so that the centre of the settlement embraced the depth of the bay and the headland to the east. Both plans were based on a regular street system with a variety of lot sizes, with some lots having direct access to the water on the west side of the headland. The grander of the plans proposed a market square with diagonal streets – and a set of noble crescents to the east, reminiscent of Bath, England. Gibbard was clearly planning in the Georgian style that had such success in the early 18th century – in Edinburgh’s New Town, and in its contemporaries, Savannah, Georgian and Charleston, North Carolina, as well as responding to the designs of John Nash, in London. Gibbard’s proposed street pattern started at the water’s edge and extended far enough south to encompass a population of several hundred thousand people. As a local entrepreneur, Gibbard obviously hoped to play a financially profitable role in the expected growth.

But the railway company obviously had other ideas. It wanted the railway to terminate in a spit which began on the east side of the bay and then jutted to the west.

It was a more modest plan – a grid pattern of a few blocks to the west of Hurontario which wrote off the eastern headland. All blocks were very regular in size: Ten lots long by two blocks wide. Each lot was one chain wide by two chains long, a chain (at 66 feet) being the standard measurement for large public decisions. The streets all had a width of one chain from property line to property line. This was the block plan given to the area from the first street south of the waterfront lots and west of Hurontario Street to the fifth street. The layout remains readily identified to this day, in fact the block plan has not changed in any way.

The area to the east of Hurontario Street was purchased by McMaster and Company, clearly as a speculative investment, and it was not part of the town’s formal area. It was the classic case of a good side of the tracks and – on the east side – an area not so good.

Gibbard ran for the position of mayor in 1858, but narrowly lost out to W.B. Hamilton, who owned a local bank. Gibbon’s contribution was finally recognized in the last few decades of the 20th century when Gibbard Crescent, in the south-west corner of the town was named after him.

An 1875 sketch shows that the land on the harbour was used for lumbering. Around the railway, railway and shipping uses predominated. The existing 70 or 80 structures were naturally located on the streets closest to the harbour. The area to the east of Hurontario Street – the McMaster holding - was generally outside of the plan, and not well developed. It would develop in its own way, if it ever did develop, but the formal part of the town was to the west of Hurontario. The town was divided into two parts right from the start, and two results of this decision are now apparent. The difference is apparent today.

First, the street pattern to the west is controlled and regular, characteristics expressed through the naming of streets: Those parallel to Hurontario were named after trees, those parallel to the shore were numbered. East of Hurontario was a different world. The street pattern there is irregular, clearly developed in response to different needs at different times, and filled with a surprising variety of uses and structures. Street names were chosen by users over time, and bear the marks of individual taste.

Second, there was to be no appeal to, or recognition of, natural features as the focus for the new settlement. The Pretty River and its flood plain to the east was consigned to oblivion, and has played no role other than an area for industry, occasionally suffering from industrial contamination over the years. No relationship with the bay was permitted except through the choked harbour. The headland played no role in the town. This arrangement was readily accepted for more than a century, as the harbour played a role as a port and locus of ship-building. There’s no natural anchor to the town. The one place where the town touches the natural environment of the bay is Sunset Point Park, on the headland east of the harbour, almost hidden away from the town’s bustle.

The most extraordinary structure in town at this time was the grain elevator, built in 1871 to replace the smaller one which stood on the site. This new building was of wood, and rose from the jetty high and ominously, 80 or 90 feet into the air. It has a medieval air. The structure was built by the Northern Railway, whose manager a decade earlier had been Frederick Cumberland, an architect. Cumberland had designed many memorable buildings in Toronto, including the famous University College, and much as one might hope that Cumberland had a hand in Collingwood’s marvellous elevator, it seems not be the case, although its architect is unknown. Sadly, this important and historic building was demolished in the 1930s, some years after the new cement structure was completed.

Most of the buildings constructed in the first decades of the town were made of lumber - given the very powerful business interests in the area - but a devastating fire on Hurontario Street in 1881 put an end to many of them and they were replaced with brick buildings. That is when Collingwood’s main street achieved its distinctive style. Many of the buildings on Hurontario were three stories high, with retail at grade and two stories of work space or residential quarters above. The buildings were invariably flush with the sidewalk so the building faces created a memorable sense of space, some of which can still be seen today. In the style of the time, the street was laid out to be two chains wide, that is, about 130 feet, compared with most other streets in the town, which were one chain, or 66 feet wide.

By 1890 the town was economically alive and vibrant with a population approaching 5,000 residents.

To a large extent, it is the buildings erected in the 19th century which define the character of Collingwood. Very few structures built in the 20th century after World War One resonate in the memory: it is the earlier structures which create the idea of what the town is.

The book by Laurel Lane-Moore and Eileen Crysler, Collingwood: Historic Homes and Buildings, gives a fine picture of this important part of the town’s architectural style. Early days saw modest structures, such as the small stucco cottage on Raglan Street called Kosy Korners, built in 1853 as a log house, then stuccoed, and since substantially altered. One of the first grand buildings was the Doctor’s House, built in 1854 at 18 St. Marie Street, one east of Hurontario. This was a stuccoed wooden two-storey Italianate villa with a bay window on the main floor, a porte-cochere over the main entrance and a large side veranda. Sadly, this house was demolished in 1983. A large clapboard home at 227 Minnesota Street is one of the last serious houses constructed of wood - by the 1860s the serious houses were made of brick, not wood Several examples remain, such as the grand Joseph Lawrence House at 492 Hurontario Street.

Houses became more grand and elaborate as those with new money wished to vaunt their wealth. Examples are the William Foster House, built in 1874, and Balcarris on Hurontario Street in 1875 - a glamorous Italianate extravaganza demolished in 1954, making way for the Collingwood Collegiate.

Other examples of the grand houses built when the town was booming still remain. One is Elmwood/Dundurn Hall at 241 Third Street, a structure which was much grander when the tower and second storey veranda were still intact. The house across the street now used as the Ski Academy – a good example of adding new work to old – is more ebullient. Just up the street at 423, the Peter Heuser House, built four years later, took the idea of a cottage and made it grand with lovely moulding and cornices, and a semicircular veranda. William Hamilton’s 1870 house at 224 Minnesota is more severe, Charles Stephen’s 1898 house at 167 more detailed. There are also good examples of vernacular residential housing, such as Victoria Terrace at 272-80 Ontario, a truly delightful row of houses.

As the town entered the 20th century the style became less elegant and more stolid, witness Thurso at 37 Third Street with heavy red stone and rather chunky pediments and cornices. The Charles Pitt House at 242 Third Street, with its two-storey columns is reminiscent of Tara in Gone with the Wind. Bield House, at 64 Third Street, was designed by the influential Toronto architect Eden Smith who worked in an English style and built this three storey structure as though it were a thatched English cottage.

High quality design was also reflected in non-residential structures. The Exhibition Building of 1885 is marvellous, although sadly demolished. St. Mary’s Church of 1888 has a remarkably Presbyterian sensibility to serve the Roman Catholic faith. The Market Building, proudly built in 1889 as the town’s municipal building led the way with its rusticated Romanesque arches, sturdy red brick, and heavy clock tower. The newspaper of the day, The Enterprise, records that following the laying of the cornerstone for this structure on August 21, 1889, the mayor and other officials retired to the nearby Globe Hotel for a banquet of Lake Superior trout, ham, mutton, turkey, goose, and relishes. This is the building that burned down after open only a few months, and then was completely rebuilt. Beside it is a marvellous building with finials pointing to the sky and fancy brick ornamentation, which includes swastikas. .

Indeed a number of 19th century structures on Hurontario Street remain, and their architecture still delights. Some are three stories in height, with decoration surrounding the windows and a strong cornice at the roof line. There is much variety in the vernacular, and it creates delight for the eye.

Other buildings in the 19th century style include the Connaught School (1902) and the Collingwood Curling Club (1909).

The last example of the grand architectural style for Collingwood was the Federal Building, constructed just before the First World War. The federal government always had a presence here, given the importance of Collingwood as a port trading with American centres on the Great Lakes. This structure made that presence visible and substantial. The tall columns, the regal pediment, the sweeping staircase drawing people up from the street , the formal grey stone – all exhibit the federal government’s sense of self-importance. One might say the grandeur is a trifle overblown – and in any case the federal government has since stripped the structure of many of its national functions, which may be reflective of how that level of government sees its relationship to the town. At the same time, it’s hard not to notice that there is no substantial provincial building sporting the flag of Queen’s Park.

The Federal Building was constructed even as some of Collingwood’s brave young men were dying in the trenches of Europe in the First World War. It marked the years when the town’s economy turned, when the effects of the successful large industrial enterprises in Toronto were clearly felt, and the smaller industries in the province’s towns found they could no longer compete. Collingwood’s shipbuilding continued, but not much else. The town’s economy slipped into somnambulance. Very few new structures were built in the ensuring decades. The old structures simply continued since no proposals for change threatened them. Collingwood’s municipal government did not have a Building Department during these decades, because little was being built.

There were several exceptions to this observation. One was the new Collegiate erected with local funds at the corner of Hume and Hurontario Streets – in the classic English style assigned to schools in Ontario’s 1920s - and still a powerful symbol in the town. The second was the Terminal Building on the waterfront, a utilitarian structure without grace or allure.

One change came during the Second World War. To deal with the critical shortage of housing, the Federal Government established Wartime Housing Inc., a company whose job it was to build new homes throughout Canada. Wartime Housing commissioned architects and housing experts to design a cost-and space- efficient structure: they proposed a small rectangular cottage with a peaked roof, allowing two rooms upstairs under the eaves. This became a standard house built by Wartime Housing across the country, examples of which remain in many communities.

In 1941, as Collingwood’s economy was revived by producing wartime materiel, Wartime Housing erected what was known as Victory Village – more than 100 of these small cottages - on Seventh, Eighth and Ninth Streets, on both sides of Hurontario, including Victory Drive, expanding the town to the south almost one hundred years after the first town plan had been put in place. Many of these houses remain, although most have been altered and enlarged. As a ‘starter home’, the Wartime Housing product has never been seriously equalled.

After the Second World War, the idea of serious land use planning came to Ontario. Municipalities were obligated to prepare what was called an ‘official plan’ to lay-out the municipality’s intentions about how growth and change would be addressed in the coming years. A planning profession quickly grew up, and a bureaucracy as well, both with their own jargons of densities, uses, and units per acre. Collingwood , like other communities, commissioned a planning firm to prepare its new plan, and selected Project Planning, headed by Macklin Hancock who was the principal planner of the successful Don Mills community in Toronto, to do the work plan.

The first plan is an unremarkable document Apart from the notation of the need to diversify industry to “dilute the excessive concentration in the ship yards,” this first official plan - passed in 1953, did nothing more than describe the existing physical layout of the town and proposed zoning regulations for existing uses. It did not address the future.

Project Planning also proposed a zoning bylaw to control change. Until this time, the arbiter of physical change was public opinion – one could do what one wanted with one’s property subject to the opinion of one’s neighbours and colleagues. This generally had been an effective way of monitoring and controlling growth and change, but the rise of the independent developer, without local links and generally dismissive of local opinion, spelled the end of real community control. Instead, there would be arbitrary rules which could only be changed by the municipal council. It was at this time that locally elected councillors became more subject to the pressures of the development industry than to the will of the general community. It was a big change to the functioning of local government.

In the case of Collingwood, the new zoning bylaw, recommended in 1960 but not implemented until 1965, stated that about half the developed area of the town would be subject to rules stating that only single family houses would be permitted on lots at least 50 feet wide. This meant that the natural division of large 19th century residences into smaller units of several apartments was immediately curtailed, as was the opportunity to sell off parts of a house lot for a new smaller unit. The effect was to prevent consolidation and infilling, and to instead require the town’s physical expansion.

In the 1960s, the Federal employment program brought new large industries into Collingwood. The new industries located to the east and west of the town centre, thus expanding the developed boundaries of the town. They also brought enough wealth to spawn new housing, which can now be seen on Ninth Street and streets further south. These houses were in the new style made popular by Don Mills, built a decade earlier: one-storey bungalows on wide lots. These houses were not set on curvy streets as in Don Mills, but here in Collingwood were laid out on the traditional grid pattern of streets established more than 100 years previously.

By 1962, the Town’s consultant, Project Planning, began to voice ideas about controlling the growth it felt was bound to occur, and an official plan amendment was proposed and passed. The firm noted its desire “to bring about controlled expansion of the town development in an orderly fashion. Uncontrolled development has created problems, including those of sewage collection and disposal, water distribution and fire protection, while the preservation of parklands bordering on Nottawasaga Bay needs a clear policy to ensure their retention and improvement.” The plan stated its intention to encourage industrial activity in the sectors such as apple and fruit growing, china and pottery, furniture, woodworking and lumber, as well as appliance manufacturing. It projected a population of 18,000 by 2000 and proposed widened streets and a better entry of Highway 26 into the downtown by replacing a T-intersection with a curve. This plan was one of the first times city leaders seriously planned for growth, and set out how it would be accommodated.

The Industrial Commission established in the mid-1960s had purchased a hundred acre parcel south of Hume Street, between Raglan and Highway 26, but town leaders were quite willing to abandon their plan and jump at any proposal that came along if it represented change. A developer proposed buying part of the industrial park for residential uses, only to be countered by the National Starch and Chemical Company which responded that “no matter how much you warn people about the disadvantages of locating their residences next to an industrial site, they do not appreciate these warnings until sometime after they have taken up their residence.” The proposal faded away. Then, in 1973, an application was made to build a shopping plaza on the same plot of land, again in contravention of the plan. Those proposing the shopping plaza used the age-old argument that the town was about to grow and that the downtown was not the appropriate place for modern retail space. “The fact that many medium and large enterprises cannot find adequate space in the town” argued the proponents of the shopping plaza, “has resulted in a lack of variety of retail merchandise for its customers. This in turn has caused many people to shop in centres such as Owen Sound, Barrie and Toronto, where they have a wide selection of retail goods and more competitive prices.” Economic studies were produced which showed that the sales potential of the shopping plaza were about $10 million in 1974 and that the plaza would employ 150 people full-time and a further 50 part-time and at Christmas.

Downtown merchants opposed the proposal but the Collingwood town council thought it was marvellous, and gave it their stamp of approval. This was followed by an Ontario Municipal Board hearing where two lawyers who have since become renowned in the development field first tried out their skills: Jane Pepino for downtown businesses; and Michael McQuaid for the shopping centre. The Ontario Municipal Board issued its decision in early 1975, concluding that the shopping plaza was not in conformity with the intentions expressed in the town’s planning documents to support the central business district. “Shopping centres should have an integrating function as between the facility and the community life of the area,” read the Board’s decision. “To facilitate this aim, the shopping centre should be located closer to the areas of projected residential grown and to the existing residential areas which are in the western part of the town.” The division of the town east and west of Hurontario Street was still an issue. The Board also noted the objection filed by National Starch and Canada Mist, and concluded that it “did not find acceptable the concept of injecting a commercial use into a block of land being used by heavy industry with potential for pollution.”

As it turned out this was a momentous decision. If the shopping centre had been approved there is no question but that the downtown would have deteriorated to such an extend that it had no real presence. This has occurred in many other towns in Ontario where suburban malls have taken all of the business once attracted to the main street. If it had happened in Collingwood it would have drained the town much of its character and sense of community. Undoubtedly many existing fine structures would have been destroyed. Thank goodness the Collingwood downtown businesses decided to object to town council’s decision.

At the same time the battle about the shopping centre was being waged, skiing activity on the mountain was exploding. The dream of Jose Wieder was finally being realised and both the ski clubs and public ski runs were very busy. But the town was unable to find a way to incorporate the Blue Mountain, this extraordinary natural resource, into its fibre. Just as the town had denied a relationship with the water from its earliest days and created a town plan which refused to recognize its existence, it took the same negligent approach to the mountain.

The most direct connection between the heart of the town and the mountain was First Street, which turned into Mountain Road. Sadly, this has never become a grand and wonderful route to this extraordinary resource.

The issue was noted by town officials in the mid-1970s, when studies began on how the expected development that would come with the burgeoning ski-industry would relate to the commercial activity centred on Hurontario Street. At that time, great emphasis was put on the private automobile as the driving force behind new urban form, as it indeed drove the emergence of the shopping mall. The town expressed its desire, as stated in an 1980 official plan amendment, to “encourage the development of the corridor” – this is, the corridor to the ski slopes – “towards what has been called ‘vehicular oriented development’ to allow for the development of uses which are not in direct conflict with the uses on Hurontario Street.”

In brief, it was decided to apply the ‘highway commercial’ zoning to First Street, allowing all kinds of drive-in restaurants, gas bars, and other uses which can be seen on the edge of most other Ontario towns. It is unpleasant, and did not do justice to the majesty of the ski slopes.

Yet planners can argue that it was the best course of action available. It meant that the activities on Hurontario Street did not suffer direct attack, and that the street continued to prosper. The proximity of the First Street strip meant that the town’s commercial centre was not compromised, as would have occurred if the original shopping mall at considerable distance from the downtown had gone ahead.

In short, the planners had come up with a compromise to protect the town. That compromise continued in the 1980s and 1990s as the highway commercial strip was expanded west, across High Street, to permit the construction of a shopping mall as an annex to First Street, with an A&P, a Zellers, and soon a new Canadian Tire store.

Personally, I find the results of the solution distasteful, but I do admire the attempt to mitigate these unsavoury market forces of the late 20th century. This is the least attractive part of Collingwood – but I recognize it has been contained, whereas in other communities it has dominated and destroyed.

A new demand for housing followed the success of the ski slopes and new suburban houses for local residents were built at the south edge of town, on curvy streets that mimicked Don Mills. But accommodation was also needed for the skiers.

Some chalets were built, but there was a recognition that something larger was required, perhaps housing that also had a demand outside of just the winter season. Bill Stephenson was the man with the vision, and so emerged the Cranberry Village development along the bay on the west side of town. The town approved a development plan for Cranberry Village in 1972, noting that “The bulk of units will be purchased as ‘second homes’ by people wishing to enjoy nearby ski areas.” It was the first of many developments to serve this market. The Town’s 1976 Official Plan had set an objective “to limit the establishment of any further residential areas directly on the lakeshore” (Section 2,4.b.iii, page 5) but that objective was quietly put to one side. Cranberry Village was obviously the way of the future.

In 1983, the owners of Kaufman Furniture immediately to the south proceeded with the development of Mariners’ Haven where condominiums were placed at the water’s edge so that all owners could have their own dock. The official plan amendment approving this plan noted: “If the tourist industry becomes more stable and functions on more of a year round basis, the benefits to the local service industry would be substantial.”

Later that decade Cranberry Village was expanded to include boating. The Town’s approval noted that “Although labelled a Four Season Recreation Area, this segment of the south shore of Georgian Bay is deficient in at least one major summer activity. Recreational boating facilities are minimal within the area.”

Cranberry Village proposed to address this by including 1,000 new units of housing to be used at various times of the year, and 700 new berths for small boats.

Other developments followed with similar plans such as Lighthouse Point and Rupert’s Landing, although these included blocks of condominium units as well as houses. A great deal of housing was built along the bay to the west of the town, and access to it was entirely by private automobile. These developments did not include retail and they quickly put pressure on the downtown because there was no way residents living in them could get to the centre of the town without an automobile which needed a parking space when they arrived there. The same development patterns began to emerge on the east side of Collingwood, along the bay.

Some attention was given to the idea of redeveloping within the existing town area, rather than trying to do so at its edge, and where this happened, the results were more compact development. The Matthew Co-op project, north of Hume off Raglan, is one example, making use of the federal and provincial government housing programs before they were terminated in the early 1990s. More recently is Old Town, on the east side of St. Paul Street north of Ontario. This 42 unit development incorporates the ideas of New Urbanism. On Ontario Street the garages are relocated from the front of the houses to the rear so that the street is lined with front porches and front doors, thus mimicking development styles of the 19th century.

More recent development is entirely suburban in nature. Land previously used for agricultural purposes is being transformed to suburban subdivisions. This is occurring on the north side of Sixth Street, west of High Street.

There are two challenges that this kind of sprawling expansion at the physical edges of the town creates. First, the town’s defining pattern is quickly becoming the private automobile. Travel distances are so great that the only viable way for most people to get around is by means of a private automobile. Thus, the idea has been voiced that what the main streets needed for success is more parking – more parking and more transit.

But it is worth looking closely at public transit. Currently in Collingwood, the public transit system carries about 34,000 passengers a year. The common measurement for transit is ‘riders per capita’, that is dividing the total number of rides by the population served. In Collingwood, with a population of about 17,000, the ridership per capita is 2 – the average resident take two bus trips per year. I suspect most people never ride the bus and that there is a very small clientele who rides more regularly. By way of contrast, the ridership per capita in Toronto is about 175 – the average resident is on the transit system 175 times a year, or every second day.

Even worse for transit is the cost. The fare is $1.75 per ride, but the cost of carrying each riders is $3.85, so the subsidy for every rider is about $2.10. increasing the number of transit riders will increase the subsidy required.

Public transit breaks even – that is the fare riders are willing to pay covers the cost of service – if there are 15 or more housing units per acre. But the densities of new developments in Collingwood are generally much lower than that. In most places densities will be in the order of six, seven units per acre. In Collingwood, with this style of low-density development, one is required to have an automobile. For those with very limited incomes this creates a serious drain on their finances and for those who cannot drive this poses considerable challenges. The extent of the automobile problem is seen in the plans now being suggested for the downtown to devote more land for parking cars. This is a fast way to make a downtown as dull and boring as a shopping mall. Nevertheless, one most deal with this challenge that has been created by low-density sprawl.

The second challenge caused by the relentless onslaught of low density development is to try to find some way of giving the community a sense of character. Before suburban sprawl came to Collingwood, the town’s character was clearly expressed in Hurontario Street and the streets to either side, a character that emerged from the 19th century. There were clear edges to the town - one knew where it stopped. Now, that is not so clear. No matter where one enters the town, coming north-west on Highway 26, north on Hurontario, or east along Mountain Road or Highway 26, there are signs but there is no clear moment when one feels that the countryside is stopping and the town is starting. There are no buildings or landmarks that mark the entrance to the town. One should not expect to see a town wall or town gate as may have occurred 500 or 600 years ago, but finding some way of marking the edges of the town would do much to create a sense of character.

At the same time, the creep of suburbia has clear impacts on the natural environment. The Pretty River, as noted in the lecture on Collingwood’s economy, has virtually disappeared as a natural feature, save for the fascinating sign now seen on Hume Street, which says “Pretty River Industrial Park.” The same seems to be the fate of Black Ash Creek to the west of High Street, another natural feature which, if development pressures continue, will be unable to serve its long term function as a locus of salmon spawning. The edges of the creek are now being trammelled by the expansion of the mall at Mountain and High Streets.

In short, the last 30 years have not been kind to Collingwood. The town’s strong physical presence is being dissipated in a form of development which causes other problems of significance. Of course, those trends are not only seen in Collingwood, but are exhibited in many other large and small communities in Ontario. One wishes that they were dealt with more wisely. It is clear this development pattern will be a challenge for Collingwood in the next decade or two. If it is not addressed, the town will clearly suffer.

One last point about the physical characteristics of Collingwood: The 19th century buildings in Collingwood are a joy, a constant delight in their form and detail. The same cannot be said of what has been built in the 20th century. One of the few buildings that to my mind stands out strongly as a 20th century artefact is the former Collingwood Collegiate/Admiral Collingwood Public School, now boarded up and ready for possible demolition. It would be a pity to demolish this very distinctive building that gives so much character to the corner of Hurontario and Hume Streets. Many other significant buildings built in the 20th century are discouraging or perhaps unpleasant. For all of its good works, the YMCA is housed in a building from the 1970s that is, if I might use the phrase, oppressive in its exterior design. The General and Marine Hospital is work-a-day in its design as is the medical centre just to the north. The 1950’s collegiate on Hurontario Street looks like it could have been designed for anywhere in Ontario, and it fails to put on an interesting face for Hurontario Street. The cinema is an affront to reasonable design. One distinguishing building from the end of the 20th century is the Jean Vanier Roman Catholic High School, which is clean, strong and almost sleek in its design. A second is the new Admiral Collingwood Elementary School, with its nautical themes of life preservers and mooring posts.

Perhaps the best example of the contrast between the 19th and 20th century architectural styles can be seen with the Kelsey Restaurant complex on the north side of First Avenue. While the 19th century building is tall and elegant with extraordinary brick detailing, the 20th century building beside is glum and clumpy, and the brick decoration is forced and without delight. It’s the same contrast between 351 Hurontario and the Mighty Dollar. During the 20th century we squandered our architectural heritage. Loblaws and the new liquor store are just not good enough.

We are now in a new century. Perhaps steps should be taken to ensure that there is a high quality of architecture that defines this town. There have been examples in the United States where developers have been encouraged to hire innovative architects to create buildings of lasting design value. One wonders if Collingwood with its new wealth and strong economy might not decide to consider such a route. It would help to give the town a character that adds to that of the 19th century.

In summary, the last fifty years have seen the following trends in Collingwood’s physical development.

1. The edges of the town have become blurred. It is now impossible to determine where the town stops and the countryside begins.
2. Development has not respected or enhanced the natural features on which the town depends – the relationship with the bay, with the Blue Mountains, or with the streams.
3. Low density development has created a serious transportation problem, one which seems likely to destroy the downtown, which is being over-run with parking, and may soon become less efficient and no more attractive than a suburban mall.
4. Very few attractive structures of lasting design interest were created in the 20th century. The town’s character is determined more and more by the expanding suburban style than by the imposing 19th century structures.

These are serious challenges and they result from pressures evident in almost every other community in Ontario. Unlike the big city where pressures seem immense and unstoppable, here the scale and scope is more manageable. It may be possible that in a place the size of Collingwood, ways can be found to confront these problems. Or, it may be possible that they will engulf the town. I suspect much of the answer lies with the actions of the town’s leaders in the next decade. The future is coming sooner than we think.