Grey Gardens: Trouble Grows on the Living Bridge


Photo by Paula Kirman /

Standing alone on the Living Bridge, an abandoned railway turned garden on 97 St., I noticed few things out of place beside the kale and tomato planters: dirty discarded jeans, filthy tees, empty creamers and food wrappers. I poked at an empty chip bag with my foot; it folded in on itself and revealed a bloodied syringe underneath. There was no one around, but there were signs of human life everywhere.

It was an overcast fall day. I’d just climbed the skeletal metal staircase to the bridge, a place I’d only previously seen from the smudged bus window. It was conceived by artists and designers Chelsea Boos, Carmen Douville and Erin Ross in 2013 as an urban intervention to beautify an “unused” space by transforming it into a community hub/edible garden. Though privately owned by Qualico Communities, the Living Bridge is otherwise a very public space.

Community gardens are often built on the ideals of accessible space and public ownership. The Living Bridge is fully maintained by volunteers who lay no personal claim to anything planted, but collectively keep the garden alive. The bridge’s website states its purpose “is to foster pride and community engagement for the Downtown Edmonton, McCauley and Boyle Street neighbourhoods that intersect its borders.” Set about halfway through Chinatown—right on the corners of these three distinct neighbourhoods—it acts as a nexus, at least in a geographical sense.

While Downtown holds a lot of business-class wealth, Boyle Street and McCauley tend to be remembered for crime, prostitution, drugs and homelessness. Seldom are these two neighbourhoods recalled for their diversity; the area is also home to a large Aboriginal, East Asian and African population, as well as an artistic community. Long-time resident Timothy Anderson belongs to the latter. The author and MacEwan University instructor recognizes that the garden’s traces of poverty make some residents uncomfortable—the syringes, abandoned wardrobes, hollow remand jail towering above—but he reminded me that “ownership” is a fluid concept, and the ways we express pride over anything, whether spaces or objects, are subjective.

Surrounding the garbage—or perhaps tucked between it—the Living Bridge is divided into 24 planting beds made of temporary twine planters with a mix of flowers, brush and edibles. The local food movement was trendy when the garden started up, but no one really eats the produce, explains garden coordinator Stephanie Bailey. Like several urban DIY fads and movements, it’s a marker of self-sustaining communities and liberal identity. But ultimately, small urban gardens like this just aren’t a viable form of food security on their own. Bailey (who has since left the coordinator role) is more hopeful about the bridge’s potential to unite communities. “As opposed to other urban community gardens where you would pay for your plot, this was everyone’s garden,” she said. “So you can help garden whatever plot you want.”

When she started managing the project in 2014, she wanted to preserve its initial “by and for the community” ethos. The garden was planted by volunteers, primarily from a young and professional creative class, who didn’t all live in the area and couldn’t necessarily speak for its residents. So with the support of Boos, Douville and Ross, Bailey recruited 65 community members from Boyle Street, McCauley and Downtown to tend to the garden. The result was a mix of ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds, but Bailey still wondered if so many different types of people would be meaningfully engaged to take collective ownership over a single project.


Photo by Paula Kirman /

Almost as quickly as a garden went up, so too did a camp; people started staying overnight. And the City of Edmonton, which helped get the project off the ground by supplying fertilized water, decided to retract its involvement with the Living Bridge last year.

Nearby, Mary Burlie Park was already known for violence, one City representative indicated to Bailey, and administrators took issue with the garden’s potential to attract “loiterers” and extend these issues. “I never once had any problems with people from Mary Burlie who were spending time on the bridge,” says Bailey, but she doesn’t deny the risky activities that occur on the bridge. (The city employee who worked closely with the Living Bridge organizers was unavailable for an interview.)

She recalls an organized volunteer cleanup that turned up hundreds of needles under a big water barrel. Clearing the bio-waste is obviously necessary, but she says it is also important that Edmontonians are exposed to the area’s realities of poverty and addiction. One businesswoman, Bailey recalls, had never seen a drug needle before. “[She] had no idea this was happening here,” says Bailey.

No one wants to see dirty needles on their footpaths—and that includes the people who use them. But the City’s concern with safety seems to adhere to a very particular definition of “safe.” What activities, what kinds of people, count as unsafe? And whose safety and sensibilities are top priority?

“Where do you want people to go?” asks Timothy Anderson, who is still bothered by the City’s decision to remove drinking water sources used by the homeless community from Giovanni Caboto Park a decade ago. He tried to remedy the situation by keeping one of his outdoor hoses out for the homeless, but his neighbours weren’t fans of the crowds it drew. “Most of the time they’re just hanging out, laughing, joking, finding what fun they can in their lives. They’re not quiet, but why do people find that so offensive? If I saw two or three of the students from MacEwan on the sidewalk in exactly the same position as a clump of homeless people, would I feel that that was something that shouldn’t be there? The answer is ‘no.’ So why do people find that so threatening?” Ironically, it seems that the street-entrenched communities of Edmonton are forced to live in the shadows while existing in the spotlight.

Months after my first visit last fall, I returned on a sun-drenched spring day. Again, I found myself alone, but I ventured past the freshly sown seeds into Mary Burlie Park and met a couple of people sitting under a tree.

They asked me if I had the time, and I asked them what they thought of the bridge. One man, who has been homeless for a year, called it “awesome.” He added, “It’s a crosswalk for the homeless. It’s history,” and he’d hate to see it torn down, which he thought was inevitable.

He was talking about the bridge itself, and not necessarily the newly added gardens, decorative planters and seating. Those are benchmarks of revitalization, which he had mixed feelings about. Pointing to the Ice District and future Rogers Place, he said it will expose many middle-class Edmontonians to homelessness and poverty, and, ultimately, increase prejudices, particularly against aboriginal people.

Edmonton, he believes, is trying too hard to make itself perfect, or at least look that way, covering up its economic disparity and pushing the people pegged as “problems” further into the peripheries. Given all the redevelopment, he said it’s hard for him to care about the Living Bridge, since he considers it temporary anyway—like a placeholder until it’s sold.

The other person in the park, however, felt differently about the bridge. “I’m homeless and Aboriginal,” she stated, “and I love this garden.” She told me that she camped on the bridge for a whole year—weeding, watering and planting in the garden whenever she could during the growing season. One group of gardeners had brought flower bunches but only planted half of them—and never returned. “I couldn’t stand to see [the plants] die,” she said. So she tended to them herself. Gardening is “spiritual and therapeutic,” she said. “It helps me think less about my plights.”

Bailey acknowledged the irony of the Living Bridge to me: Some people, including City administrators, object to people using the bridge to camp, yet harbour no qualms about artists—many non-residents—coming in and altering the old rail-yard to their whims. Nobody had a problem with her reimagining the site because “I’m just a middle class, white kid,” Bailey stated matter-of-factly.

What people forget about “urban interventionism,” Bailey explained, is that one rarely reimagines an “unused” or “neutral” space; someone has probably already been using that land. Before they were flowerbeds, they were human beds. Though street-entrenched people are seldom credited or even acknowledged for building their own definition of community, the Living Bridge offers a space that allows them, and others, to cultivate a unique sense of pride in their own neighbourhood.

She recalled one late night when she’d biked by the bridge and noticed a knocked over water barrel. Bailey struggled to lift the heavy container until three men camping in the garden came to help. Then, as she left the bridge, someone walked over to the barrel, and she heard the men tell the person not to play with it. “It was like 24-hour surveillance.”

Why Small is Big When it Comes to Urban Design


Susan Forsey has two babies, and like any good mother, she pretends she doesn’t have a favourite. But she does. “You’re supposed to love all your kids equally, but this is my baby and I would have been happy with this,” she says, voice hushed, finger pointed at a reclaimed wood table in the corner of Cask & Barrel.

She and Wayne Jones, her partner in life and business, opened the 1,300-sq.-ft. bar in 2012 with the intent of providing good beer, wine and scotch to an older and refined crowd. When it first opened in the Confederation Building on 104 St., Forsey was there every day, open to close. But nowadays, Cask’s bigger sister Rocky Mountain Icehouse gets most of her attention.
  Nearly three times Cask’s size, the restaurant
 in the Jasper Block building one street northwest opened in July 2015 and Forsey calls it the colicky one of the two. “It’s way easier to open up a smaller place, and make sure it’s successful, than a bigger one,” says Forsey, who, like Jones, has 20-plus years in hospitality behind her. “This place could do the same amount of sales that [Icehouse] could do with half the staff.”

In Edmonton’s core, where bigger appears to be better—bigger arena, bigger museum, bigger university—smaller isn’t just surviving; it’s thriving. Yet our streets don’t provide enough of these fine-grain, hole-in-the-wall businesses that let people like Forsey and Jones take a risk, succeed, then grow. Anyone who’s walked Toronto, Montreal or a great number of cities’ downtown streets knows the sight of a trail of sandwich boards—each one indicating another small business. On one side of one block you could enter and exit a dozen doors. The store bays are long and narrow. Their owners, usually behind a counter.
 “You need to have a lot of really great small retail bays to have small business,” says Ian O’Don
nell, vice president of the Downtown Edmonton Community League. “That’s something we’ve been challenged by, because we’ve moved or redeveloped a lot of the older sites that Toronto, Vancouver, Montreal have retained.”

There is, however, a movement afoot to rewrite this in the core, and Lisa Baroldi, co-founder of the urban networking vehicle Designing Downtown, can point to the cause: “You’ve got really creative entrepreneurs pushing developers in different directions and making demands to do different things,” says the Oliver resident.

The Icon Towers on 104 St., developed by Langham Developments Ltd., are good examples
 of that push, what with those residential towers’ podiums playing host to a variety of small retailers and restaurants. Soon Langham’s Fox Towers will repeat this exactly one block north. More offices and towers along 124 St. and Jasper Ave. are being built or retrofitted with small storefronts, but our core still lags behind most other cities’, to say nothing of the small bays available on Whyte Ave. just across the river. But if the dozens of cranes reaching over the skyline mean anything, it’s that big change is possible.

Developers have their reasons for going “big.” Big tenants usually bring with them an established clientele and financial stability, plus having one large tenant instead of many small tenants is easier to manage. “It’s more difficult for mom and pop shops to provide a background and history and demonstrated financials than, say, a 7/11 or an Earl’s,” says O’Donnell. “So landlords will typically prefer to have a brand name.”


Eric Slatter is a leasing agent with Colliers International who’s worked on tenant agreements for commercial bays both small and big, new and old. Although the tendency for developers is to try securing large companies with predictable profits, he says carving out smaller retail makes financial sense for them. “If it’s a 3,000-sq.-ft. space, it limits how many tenants can use [it],” he says. “If you can divide that into three 1,000 sq.-ft. units, you would be able to charge a premium on each one of those square feet.”

But tripling the tenants could also triple the headaches, which is why many developers continue to develop sizeable spaces to attract tenants with sizeable reputations. Even then, it doesn’t always work out. Slatter points to the still vacant Sobeys on 104 St., kitty-corner to Cask & Barrel, which closed in the summer of 2014, seven years into a 10-year lease. “All your eggs are in one basket in that sense,” says Slatter, who represents the landowner.

Inside Coffee Bureau, one of several tiny retailers emerging in the core.

Coffee Bureau is one of several tiny retailers emerging in the core. (Mack Male/Flickr)

At nearly 20,000 sq. ft., the former Sobeys 
could fit 14 pubs the size of Cask. And while Cask is comparatively small, seating 77, when placed on the “small scale” it’s a monster. You could fit two TziN Wine & Tapas into Cask. And at least three Coffee Bureaus. It just depends on how you define small. Small can mean a farmers’ market stall or a food truck. In fact the city’s thriving food truck scene might have as much to do with a lack of appropriately sized commercial spaces as it does with the Food Network. As urbanist and The Happy City author Charles Montgomery said on a recent visit to Edmonton, “Food trucks are great, but they’re like an indicator species that says, ‘Yeah, you screwed that up’.” His point is that Edmonton has failed to offer small-scale restaurants space in the first place.

And that’s unfortunate because the smaller an entrepreneur starts the more room they have to grow. “And people who get that right,” says Baroldi, “they’re going to be incredibly successful.”

Annie Parent's cozy gift shop recently knocked down a wall to grow.

Annie Parent’s cozy gift shop Habitat Etc.

Just ask Annie Parent. She started out selling handmade terrariums at the City Market Downtown. When it was time to leave her work
in the pharmaceuticals industry and set up her dream gift shop, Habitat Etc., the 34-year-old chose a 550-sq.-ft. former office in 104 St.’s McKenny building, not just because it was close to the market but because of its size. She could have rented some- thing larger for the same price on a different street but, she says, “the challenge is finding a small space to start. The hardest thing in retail is having such large overhead in the beginning.”

Now a year into business, she has opened up the walled-off storage room to accommodate the growing number of customers interested
in craft workshops.

“It’s market-driven. So,
 at the very least, we need the City
 of Edmonton to minimize other barriers to establishing small businesses, such as parking minimums.” — Lisa Brown, Oliver Community League president

Starting a business, even one the size of a closet, isn’t easy. There are macro-hoops that micro-entrepreneurs have to jump through.

First, you need to find a space,
 which isn’t as easy as it looks. Nate
Box, for instance, searched for
two years before opening his first of 
five businesses, Elm Cafe, on 195 sq. ft. inside the base of an Oliver apartment. And then there’s the bureaucratic process 
of meeting building code and zoning regulations. Coffee Bureau, for 
example, was expected to have 
a barrier-free bathroom, even 
though it would take up one-fifth 
of the cafe. That’s because Bureau
 seats 10 people. If, in the future,
 owners wanted to add more seats,
 they’d have to also add another 
bathroom, a physical impossibility.

“We’re always asking developers to install small bays in new buildings when we’re discussing their rezoning applications, but there’s no guarantee that’ll happen,” says Oliver Community League president Lisa Brown. “It’s market-driven. So,
 at the very least, we need the City
 of Edmonton to minimize other barriers to establishing small businesses, such as parking minimums.”

Zoning bylaws regulating the
number of parking stalls a business
must have in order to open have caused many well-publicized delays for businesses, especially outside of Downtown proper, which has reduced parking requirements. The well-intentioned rule is supposed to accommodate commuter customers, but as public transit use grows and the inner city becomes more of a place to live (or a “lifestyle,” as Baroldi calls it), they’re becoming irrelevant. A pilot project will relax the rules in Oliver, on 124 St. and on Whyte Ave., but some would-be business owners would prefer none at all. Slatter, who worked on the 109 St. deal with the owners of the Common, says the fact that the restaurant and club had no parking stalls wasn’t a deterrent. The owners said they didn’t even need any—and if the line-ups outside the bar on a Friday night are any indication, they were right.

The City of Edmonton is open to relaxing rules to encourage more small business in our neighbourhoods. But, says Peter Ohm, branch manager of urban planning and sustainable development, fundamental to these potential changes is population density. “That’s key in having a foundation that gets people to support smaller businesses,” he says. “Smaller businesses aren’t going to come to an area if there aren’t people there to shop.”

In 2010, city council adopted a plan to revitalize the core through a series of catalyst projects and public investment, including attracting more residential development. According to the 2014 census, the combined population in Downtown and Oliver was sitting around 32,000 people. That’s up about 5,000 from 2008. With about a dozen residential towers proposed or in development, the population will only swell, which, in turn, could drive developers to carve out small spaces for the basic amenities their tenants will come to expect.

And that’s what makes Cask & Barrel successful, says Forsey. With its bar that easily takes up one-third of the entire square footage, Cask offers something big can’t: friendly familiarity. “I have customers that have been coming here for three years, and they’re my friends,” says Forsey, just moments after Ian O’Donnell enters and is greeted by name. “It’s almost like Cheers, right?”

Growing Up and Out

the commonThe Bar: The Common
Neighbourhood: Oliver
First Opened: 2009
Initial Size: 1,400 sq. ft.
New Size: 4,500 sq. ft., grew to 8,000 with basement addition
“The challenge was that it was just too small right from the get go.” —Kyla Kazeil, co-owner


Duchess-Bake-Shop-Edmonton-2-1024x682The Bakery: Duchess Bakeshop
Neighbourhood: Westmount
First Opened: 2009 Initial Size: 1,600 sq. ft.
New Size: grew to 4,500 sq. ft. with neighbouring bays, later added an additional 14,000 sq. ft. location in Queen Mary Park
“We wanted a space we could actually grow into, not grow out of.” —Garner Beggs, co-owner


barber ha

Photo: Grempz/Flickr

The Barber: Barber Ha
Neighbourhood: Strathcona
First Opened: 2011
Initial Size: 500 sq. ft.
New Size: 1,800 sq. ft.
“Initially we were really sad to have to move because we loved how intimate that space was, but in the end, it worked out for the best.” —Linda Ha, owner

Chief Concerns: Edmonton Hasn’t Had a Chief Planner for 50 Years

Toronto's chief planner Jennifer Keesmaat. (Courtesy: Toronto Centre for Active Transportation/Flickr)

Toronto’s chief planner Jennifer Keesmaat. (Courtesy: Toronto Centre for Active Transportation/Flickr)

(Editor’s note: Since the reporting of this story, Peter Ohm was officially named Edmonton’s Chief Planner.)

Edmonton has a lot of plans. Big ones. Blatchford, the Ice District, the Quarters—to say nothing of the constant outward growth,
 the inward growth alone means the city will look very different in less than a generation. Other major urban centres that’ve implemented projects far smaller in scale have relied on urban advocates in the form of a “chief planner” to communicate and maintain overall vision. The city’s been without one since Noel Dant in the 1950s and ’60s. Recent changes within Edmonton’s civil service structure may include creating a position of this type, but will it be an advocate for good urban form?

Like a chief medical officer is to our provincial leaders, explains Bill Freeman, author of The New Urban Agenda, “[a chief planner] has a responsibility to give their best professional advice to the public and the politicians.”

“Many politicians don’t want this because they think it’s a competition for the attention of the public.” —Brent Toderian, former City of Vancouver chief planner

Municipal planners overly consider developers’ plans, says Freeman, often leading to poor alignment with larger neighbourhood plans or affordable housing needs. A chief urban planner, however, considers the broadest view with all the components of city-making, from how people move to how neighbourhoods form. A chief planner’s primarily accountable to the expertise and ethics of their field, rather than the politics of an environment.

“Many politicians don’t want this because they think it’s a competition for the attention of the public,” says Brent Toderian, the City of Vancouver’s former chief planner. Now a national consultant, he says the position is critical to overcoming the fractured thinking of individual departments within a city governance structure. For instance, sustainable development and transportation are, obviously, intertwined, yet until a recent shakeup in Edmonton these departments were overseen separately.

Calgary’s chief urban planner Rollin Stanley, Toronto’s Jennifer Keesmaat and Toderian himself are often held up as Canadian examples of what 
a strong chief planner can accomplish. Toderian took on the task of defining and implementing
an “EcoDensity” plan, which, after hundreds of meetings, created a dramatic change to Vancouver’s planning process by prioritizing the environmental benefits of densification. This achievement is not viewed favourably by all, and many believe 
it contributed to Toderian being fired when the political climate changed. Toderian’s adherence to the planning philosophy behind EcoDensity over political climate is an example of what can make a chief planner controversial.

Or take Keesmaat. Her social media following is massive and she regularly blogs or pens op-eds because she has public outreach responsibilities. But her adherence to urban form over political expediency created conflict with Toronto mayor John Tory over the Gardiner Expressway. While he advocated an expansion of the expressway, Keesmaat advocated demolishing it. Her position wasn’t popular with Torontonians, but that is often the case with chief planners; they exist to shoulder the blame for tough but necessary decisions.

The expressway fallout was so great it led to speculation Tory would replace her. “Keesmaat has been more cautious since,” says Freeman. “That
 is unfortunate.” Freeman believes that despite controversy, Keesmaat’s interpretation of the
 role as an advocate is the correct one. “She speaks directly to the public. … This is a welcome development that has helped the public understand the issues before them.”

Considering the natural resistance the general public has to change, it’s perhaps unsurprising that Keesmaat and her counterparts have all been labelled troublemakers. But imagine a similar apolitical advocate for Edmonton. Would 104 Ave. comprise so many suburban power centres? Would the Metro LRT have been better planned?

“The success of a chief planner depends less
 on the position and more on the person,” says Toderian. While he’s often asked to describe the best city structure to support a chief planner, he says it’s more about that person’s ability to navigate the internal structure and collate the various departments’ ideas into action.

Who will advocate best planning practices to the public or our elected officials? Klassen, Ohm or the top urban designer?

Their positions as defined on an organizational chart are not markedly different from the position of top planners in other municipalities. Peter Ohm, who as branch manager of urban planning and environment, is Edmonton’s most senior planner. However, Ohm reports not to the city manager but to Gary Klassen, the GM of Sustainable Development, where issues of zoning, housing, land-use and environment are managed, who in turn is hiring a new “lead urban designer” that will report to Ohm. Who will advocate best planning practices to the public or our elected officials? Klassen, Ohm or the top urban designer?

Klassen says Ohm is in a position similar to 
the chief urban planner and “[the designer] will translate the policy and frameworks into what we see on the street.” Ohm has had a low public profile up to this point, with no social media presence and a quiet voice in the news, but stronger internal and public communication is part of his re-envisioned job. With this renewed focus and all of the major upcoming projects, Ohm’s public profile and accountability will have to strengthen in order to achieve the clout of his counterparts. It’s not just about having another senior manager; someone should be the face of urbanism, infill, density and walkability across Edmonton. But most of all, says Toderian, “the follow through is the key.”

(Editor’s note: Since the reporting of this story, Peter Ohm was officially named Edmonton’s Chief Planner.)

The 2015 Best in the Core Awards

The Yards turns one this season, but instead of throwing a birthday bash we want to celebrate you—the shops, services, spaces and faces that make the core Edmonton’s best place to live. There are 15 categories in our inaugural awards. Within each, a long list of nominees was brainstormed and then painstakingly whittled down until consensus on the top three was reached by more than a dozen of the magazine’s staff, governance board and freelance writers.

We don’t expect you to agree on them all—so please email, tweet or Facebook us about who you’d want to honour in these categories or in new ones. But we hope that our honourees will surprise you and give you more to discover in Oliver and Downtown, while reaffirming the reasons you love living here.



transitional mural

Giant Transition mural: This meeting of two giants—one rundown and one sweating, the other calm and reassuring—was painstakingly applied to the east side of the John Howard Society Building by artists Josh Holinaty and Luke Ramsey in 2010. Like the society itself, the mural’s message is one of resilience. Think of it like those Keep Calm and Carry On posters: A reminder to breathe, relax, and remember that today can be a little better than yesterday. (10010 105 St.)

En Masse Collective tunnel: The permanent (and City-sanctioned) piece of spray-painted chaos on a multi-use trail features magpies, skeletal Oilers logos and goopy letters declaring “Pure filth!” (99 Ave., between 109 and 110 St.)
Chez Pierre Cabaret mural: Little kids are delighted by the bubbly and friendly portrait of the building’s former owner, Pierre Cochard, while their parents try avoid explaining what, exactly, happens inside. (10040 105 St.) —MH


Victoria Park Heritage Trail: This path skirting the north edge of Victoria Golf Course is a quick and easy escape from the urban jungle for you and your fur-babies. Benches lining the heritage trail are perfect to pause and give your pet a treat. Give yourself one too, with a flawless view of Edmonton’s Green Jewel. It’s well maintained all year long, so regardless of the season the stretch of greenery is a common gathering place for cyclists, fitness junkies and other fur-parents. Trail runs from approx. 100 Ave. and 116 to 121 streets.

RJW Mather Memorial Park: There’s an official downtown dog park in progress (Alex Decoteau), but until then the historical McKay Avenue School’s fenced-in yard remains the core’s unofficial off-leash park. 10425 99 Ave.
Railtown Park: Following the path of an old railroad, this multi-use trail was envisioned as a quiet commuter path. That is, until the pooches took control. Between 109 and 110 Streets, south of 104 Ave. —BN


Balfour Manor: Sandwiched between towering beige high-rises, this piece of history was built in 1912 as Edmonton’s fourth firehall. The Balfour housed horses and horse-drawn equipment that were then used for firefighting, before it was converted to a walk-up apartment and given its distinct Moderne aesthetic, in 1939. But passersby will still make out pieces of the firehall’s brick pavement under the front lawn. (10139 116 St.)

Holowach Tree: Planted by a Ukrainian shop-owner on his property in 1920, the chestnut tree hasn’t budged and remains in downtown’s heart as a snapshot of the changing seasons. 106 St. and Jasper Ave.
El Mirador: Since 1936, this Spanish- inspired 45-unit apartment and calming courtyard has offered respite from  monotonous parking lots and offices along Capital Boulevard.  (10133-10147 108 St.—JP

bubble houses
“Bubble Houses”: This set of unmissable brick row-homes along 102 Ave. is rooted in the 1920s, when they were built for the families of workers employed at the nearby railway and hospitals. But their most notable feature—spherical windows—weren’t added until a 1980s renovation by the Lord and Wolff architects, in an attempt to modernize the humble exteriors. Aside from the telltale bubbles beloved by sunbathing cats, newer residents have added beautiful landscaping, lush vegetable gardens and flowerpots that envelope the front stoops. (112th and 119th streets on 102 Ave.)

Mel Hurtig Cabin: The two-story log cabin that looms over the valley of the North Saskatchewan River is one of the last remaining homes of its type within city limits. (9905 115 St.)
Manasc Penthouse: The rainbow hues of architect Vivian Manasc’s glass box atop the New Cambridge Lofts Penthouse gives anyone with a view an unexpected flash of colour and style. (10024 Jasper Ave.—JP


Oliver Outdoor Pool:
What’s more refreshing on a hot summer day than dipping in an outdoor pool? The City-run facility with full change rooms is housed in Oliver Park, enveloped by nature and smack-dab in the busy neighbourhood. If you’re more inclined to soak in the sun than swim in the 30-metres-long pool, there are deck chairs (if you’re lucky enough to score one) and grassy seating by the concession. Entry is $7 for adults, $4.50 for kids, but you’ll have to wait until it reopens next summer. (10315 119 St.,

Royal Lawn Bowling Club: Members have enjoyed competitive and recreational lawn bowling at this local institution by the Leg for nearly a century. (9515 107 St.,
Swing ‘n Skate: On January and February Sunday  afternoons, head to City Hall for free live swing music  and dance lessons—on ice too, if you’re feeling brave. (Sir Winston Churchill Square, 800-463-4667—JP

0cjqVrLBDNeGTEVK_XCOEcOdjxcxAkzKaC8j9nQeLmI,TqDgl1aib5vPp3b76zzXB67plv2Xft2DB1gdldc2HlgEdmonton Community League Day: We’re a bit biased, but we think the morning-to-night Community League Day festivities by the OCL and DECL—and across the city at its 150-plus community leagues—are pretty rad. The party starts every third Saturday of September, in Beaver Hills Park for free roasted corn and at the Oliver Community Hall for a relaxing afternoon of family-friendly games and neighbourly connections. Then, the DJ arrives and the beer garden opens, to keep the community spirit up all night. (

All is Bright: You’ll hardly notice the cold at 124 St.’s outdoor festival, while roasting marshmallows and chomping into food truck fixings in the glow of artsy light installations. (
Canada Day: The whole city seemingly comes out to Oliver and Downtown for this dazzling show of light and music on the High Level Bridge and fireworks at the Leg grounds. (—AV


Photo via Facebook/Cody Wu

Latitude 53 Patio Party: The best way to start your weekend? A day early. That’s why Edmontonians clutter Latitude 53’s patio every Thursday evening from mid-June to mid-August. Hosted by a local business with food and DJs, its contemporary art gallery shows off its newest experimental exhibitions while the art crowd gets a little exhibitionist with their outfits. Sip and socialize with friends—or make new ones—until you notice the sunset reflected off the glass towers ahead. (10242 106 St.,

Movies on the Square: Pack up the family and camping chairs every Tuesday night in August when our civic plaza becomes a drive-in movie theatre—minus the cars, shoddy FM channel and admission fees. (Churchill Sq.)
Lighting Up the Leg: The holiday tradition of illuminating the entire government grounds at once can leave you breathless, but the best way to bask in the twinkling lights is on skates. (10800 97 Ave.—BN


SageSAGE: Kitty-corner to Churchill Square, the nonprofit’s mandate is giving seniors independence for as long as its safe. By offering programs and service registries, SAGE motivates them to maintain full lives and, in doing so, helps people feel like valued members of the community. One of its many programs, Life Enrichment, proves you’re never too old for new experiences like Zumba and ukulele lessons, not to mention meeting new people through its many social outings. (15 Churchill Sq., 780-423-5510,

Oliver Primary Care Network: From dietitian consultation to mental health coordination, its programs help patients manage their mental and physical well-being and achieve healthy lifestyles. (11910 111 Ave., 780-453-3757,
STI Clinic: It’s never easy, but the STI clinic staff have a way putting one at ease, with free, confidential testing, counselling and treatment. Beat the waiting room by booking ahead.  (11111 Jasper Ave., 780-342 2300,—AV



Coffee Bureau

Mack Male/ Flickr

Coffee Bureau: It’s almost a dare: How do you convert minuscule square footage into a beloved business? Peter West and Cristiane Tassinari have risen to the occasion with their minimalist, 10-seat ode to all things mid-century modern. And using delicious locally roasted beans from Ace Coffee Roasters means that the retro cafe keeps one eye on the present craft coffee scene, too. (10505 Jasper Ave.,


Credo Coffee: The O.G. of downtown’s coffee renaissance sees bearded undergrads in line next to provincial cabinet ministers—and ordering the same thing. (10134 104 St. and 10350 124 St.,
District Coffee Co.: The second of Nate Box’s java empire is also its bakery HQ for inventive pastries (think: Polish bialy with gruyere), plus smooth cappuccinos and an extra shot of sunshine through its wide front windows. (101, 10011 109 St.,—MH

Remedy: After sundown, its bright yellow banners double as beacons to hungry pedestrians everywhere, directing them to that last chai, buttered chicken bowl or “punny” cake slice before bed. The chain’s two central locations means that they’ve got both ends of Downtown and Oliver covered till at least 11 pm, seven days a week. (10279 Jasper Ave. and 10310 124 St.,

North 53: This renowned cocktail bar keeps a special menu for late-night snackers—so next time you’re hankering for Filipino pork buns or cider-poached pear from 11 pm to 2 am, you know where to go. (10240 124 St.,
La Shish Toauk: Its authentic Lebanese menu delivers plenty of bang for your buck—and it may well be home to Edmonton’s best shawarma (spinning till midnight). (10106 118 St.,—MH

Courtesy of Ceasol/Flickr

Courtesy of Ceasol/Flickr

Starlite Room: When the Salvation Army first built the brick building in 1925, chances are it didn’t envision a future where a murderer’s row of rappers, metal bands and indie-rock outfits would pass through it (and its sister venue, The Brixx) on a near-nightly basis. Every city needs a mid-sized venue to anchor the local music scene, and we should be proud to call the Starlite ours. (10030 102 St.,

OTR (On the Rocks):
Even if you drink it straight,  everything comes with rock (and roll) at this bar from Fri.  to Sun., courtesy of a revolving cast of excellent cover bands. (11740 Jasper Ave.,
Cask & Barrel: With slick wood paneling, cozy booths and low lighting, everything emanating from the stage is mood music. The kid-friendly restaurant hosts concerts every Saturday. (10041 104 St.,—MH

dawns bra-tique
Dawn’s Bra-Tique: Dawn Bell knows all there is to know about bras, much of it learned  under the tutelage of her grandmother, a Regina bra boutique-owner. Since 2000, the junior Bell has helped women from Edmonton and afar find that elusive perfect fit, whether it be high-end imports from around the world, cup sizes ranging from AA to N, or a specialty bra for brides-to-be. There’s also one-on-one shopping for women who’ve undergone breast augmentations or mastectomies. (10130 118 St.,

Workhall: See how entrepreneur and head designer Nicole Campre dresses women and men in her signature modern and minimalist style, inside the local label’s head boutique and studio. (10137 104 St.,
The High Street: The strip of independent clothing, cosmetic, gift and cookware boutiques dazzles discerning consumers with products hard to find elsewhere—plus plenty of brunch options for good measure.  (12420 102 Ave.—JP

HabitatEtcHabitat etc: Handcrafted and locally made goods are expertly curated by owner Annie Parent, so the stock along these antique shelves will please even the fussiest person on your holiday shopping list—and tempt you into buying a deliciously scented soy-wax candle for yourself. “It’s a place that you come when you want to find something unique and different, but still good quality,” says Parent. In addition to stocking quirky greeting cards and small-batch grooming products, Habitat hosts crafting workshops to make your loved ones something truly unique. (10187 104 St.,

Stylus Fine Pens: A must-stop for stationary-lovers, the niche store offers  a dizzying selection of high-end pens from across the globe. (10538 102 Ave,
Rowles & Company: For 30-plus years this LeMarchand Mansion gallery has offered everything from traditional Aboriginal sculptures to bright hand-blown glass works by Western Canadian artists. (108, 11523 100 Ave,—JP

iconoclastIconoclast Koffeehuis: Lodged between Oliver Square and St. Joachim Cemetery, a mere sandwich board signals that you’ve come to the right place—that, and the smell of roasting coffee beans wafting out the open garage doors in spring and summer. No need to lock your bike outside; owner Ryan Arcand insists you roll it in (the cafe doubles as a bike store). Arcand is committed to making Iconoclast a social hub, hence the communal working table, table-tennis, board games and nightly event bookings. (11807 105 Ave.,

Marg’s Upholstery: Well-loved furniture gets a second life in this basement business that’s been family-owned and operated for 35-plus years. So you know your sofa’s in good hands. (11639 Jasper Ave, 780-488-0486)
The Sequel Cafe: The embodiment of a feel-good mom-and-pop bistro: fresh salads, sandwiches, daily homemade soups and, of course, cash only! (10011 102 Ave,  780-425-9210—AV

ikki 1

Ikki Izakaya: It’s technically the Ishikawas’ third location, though you’ll have to fly to Thailand to find the other two. That’s where the Ishikawa family refined their version of Japanese pubs, specializing in sharing plates and Asian sprits. It’s also the third generation of proprietor—some recipes date back to grandma Takako’s cookbooks. Warm up all winter with a bowl of motsuni stew, a pork intestine that’s slow-cooked in a mixed miso until its perfectly tender. Or really heat it up with an ounce of Hakkaisan Junmai, a premium sake served “overflow,” meaning it literally flows over the brim into a little box—yet another tradition the Ishikawa’s have brought to west Oliver. (11931 Jasper Ave.,

Kunitz Shoes:
The Kunitz kids inherited mother Darlene’s 35 years of footwear knowledge to make this ever-expanding store a destination for medium and high-end footwear. (10846 Jasper Ave.,
Co Co Di: Not even a 2009 blaze in the Kelly Ramsey couldn’t stop the Ghazals from doing what they do best: cook up authentic Lebanese with a side of belly dancing, live Arabic singers and hookah. (11454 Jasper Ave.—BN

There’s a Tale of Two Cities in the New Downtown

Julian Daly’s Boyle Street Community Services office overlooks a 105 Ave. bench that’s usually occupied by one of Edmonton’s 2,307 homeless residents. On this particular sunny afternoon, a middle-aged woman and an older man who look to be homeless sat together, not far from a throng of others laughing and conversing.

They’re surrounded by the rapidly maturing body of Rogers Place, the Epcor Tower and the hammering and rumbling that’s has come to symbolize revitalization. The forest of cranes capture our imagination: we want to know what treasures they’ll reveal in our unending quest for more, for better. Within a few years downtown will house the Royal Alberta Museum, the tallest Canadian skyscraper outside of Toronto, Edmonton’s next four-star hotel, and manicured pedestrian-friendly streets.

But the people working and living in the shadows of revitalization know what’s masked by our desire for improvement. As Edmonton grows, we’ll need to reconcile our idealized vision of a progressive modern city with the realities of the poverty concentrated in the downtown core. Newly arriving businesses and residents will need it to feel safe and welcoming—for everybody, including the two people on that bench.

Moments later, they’re joined by another man from their community who brings the woman a plate of lunch. “They comfort and look out for each other,” says Daly, looking outside. The question is, how will the broader community  do the same?

Here To Stay
Most Edmontonians won’t miss the profusion of black asphalt, gravel lots and rundown buildings that stood where many of downtown’s most anticipated developments are taking shape. When City Council approved the comprehensive and ambitious Capital City Downtown Plan (CCDP) in 2010, it was heralded as a blueprint for a lively downtown core. But while it’s grand scheme for cultural and economic vibrancy was clear, it left many unanswered questions about how social services like Boyle Street and the people who use them fit into the big picture—or whether they fit in at all.

When downtown revitalization began, says Daly, nobody reached out to Boyle Street. “There were no social impact studies on the development plans and what they would mean for the downtown population.”

Edmonton may outperform the rest of Canada in many economic indicators, but the percentage of our population that is homeless is equal to Vancouver’s and higher than Toronto’s, reports a 2013 Wellesley Institute and Canadian Homelessness Research Fund study. Each long-term homeless person costs taxpayers approximately $100,000 every year in policing, ambulance services and psychiatric hospital beds, according to the Edmonton Homeless Commission. The report says housing and support services could cost as little as $35,000 per year annually (but up to $180,000).

Housing is critical to Edmonton’s 10-year plan to end homelessness, but it’s not a singular solution. Boyle Street and Bissell Centre’s clients require support after they’re housed. Outreach workers teach clients how to shop, find medical services, get a job, budget, lock doors—skills most others take for granted. Those without homes are supported with training in jobs, First Aid and CPR, plus victim and mental health services and hot meals. “There is the idea in Edmonton that Boyle Street brings nothing good to the city, that it only attracts bad,” says Daly. “But think about where these people would go without the centre.” He means that they’re not just in the core because of its services, but because it’s one of the few safe spaces they can spend the day. “This is a home where people feel safe and are not judged.”

But at what point is the average citizen’s right to enjoy their city center outweighed by a homeless citizen’s access to services? Looking out from the Boyle Street window has heartening moments. But it can also be an uncomfortable sight: people openly drink, sniff or shoot up, some scrabble in the dirt for needles. In their struggle to survive, they’re understandably not concerned about the average passerby.

“There is the idea in Edmonton that Boyle Street brings nothing good to the city, that it only attracts bad. But think about where these people would go without the centre.” —Julian Daly, Boyle Street Community Services

“Boyle Street should make us uneasy because it’s a disgrace on us all,” says Daly. “What sort of society allows people to suffer without housing, health benefits, and mental health benefits?” Ward 6 Coun. Scott McKeen is even blunter in his assessment: “It is a pox on our house that we have allowed ill people to live in such conditions.” But he’s adamant about one thing—the City will not force services out of the downtown core. But he may find that revitalization itself pushes homeless people into other parts of the city.

The Capital Region Housing Corporation hasn’t noticed a hike in rent that’s attributable to the arena, but lower-income people tend to move when they no longer feel comfortable in the space they use, says Daly. Boyle Street has called its current location home for 23 years, but when plans to develop the Ice District began, “clients wanted to know if they would lose their home,” says Daly. To that end, Bissell Centre, which has operated downtown for over 100 years, and Boyle Street bought their buildings and land. They have no intention of leaving their neighbourhoods.

Understanding by Collaborating
Boyle Street doesn’t shrug off safety concerns. It has installed bright lights and security cameras, while working with police to guard its clients and others from drug dealers. Similarly, Bissell Centre, five blocks east, is building relationships with Edmonton Police Services to find positive solutions to panhandlers, garbage and other manifestations of social strife. “People often want to respond [to such problems] with a security response,” says chief programs officer Gary St. Amand. “That’s not a bad thing, but we can collaborate to ensure good for everyone.”

Bissell staff do security and cleanup sweeps of the area several times daily. The organization also reaches out to stakeholders, staff, neighbours and the McCauley Community League.

Recognizing the need to be part of downtown development, Boyle Street formed a community outreach program in the spring of 2015 to help local businesses work with vulnerable people. The program has helped staff at the Baccarat Casino, City Centre Mall and Epcor.

Epcor approached community agencies in the area after the completion of its 28-storey tower in 2011. “We want to be a good neighbour and thought our staff should have a better understanding about these groups, what they do and who they serve,” says Tim le Riche, Epcor’s external communications specialist. Jordan Reiniger, Boyle Street’s programs and development coordinator, says the most important wisdom for surrounding businesses is to dignify homeless neighbours. “If homeless citizens become aggressive we need to recognize that most have dealt with trauma that has led to mental health and addictions problems,” he says. “When businesses treat the homeless like humans, they usually don’t have problems.”

While there have been minor incidents, Epcor has not had “any significant trouble,” emphasizes Le Riche. “Overall, the situation seems to be well understood, and our relationship with agencies such as Boyle Street has been positive. We know of a number of Epcor staff who have volunteered in the community.”

PCL Construction took advantage of the Boyle Street’s job placement program by holding a job fair for more Rogers Place workers. The service agencies hope the business community will offer other novel ways to welcome their clients.

Learning from the Past

Collaborative approaches to homelessness don’t guarantee smooth sailing. Dwayne’s Home is a 140-bed transitional housing building that provides services for people in need. A former hostel was converted by Dave Martyshuk, a businessman wanting to help Edmonton achieve its homelessness plan. While Dwayne’s Home demonstrates the positive impact private-public partnerships can have in city-building, it has also created conflict in the Downtown Edmonton neighbourhood. “There have been issues with loitering, aggressive panhandling, and people being threatening,” says DECL president Chris Buyze. However, now that Dwayne’s home clients have access to residential social services, Buyze is hopeful that conditions will improve.

“There have been issues with loitering, aggressive panhandling, and people being threatening.” —Chris Buyze, DECL president

The community league supports the development of social housing. “Just because people live in social housing doesn’t mean they can’t be responsible neighbours,” says Buyze. He says DECL wants to meet and understand the needs of all downtown residents, regardless of socioeconomics. OCL president Lisa Brown echoes this. She says the league’s Civics Committee wants the City to mandate a minimum number of below-market units for every newly rezoned project in Oliver.

This type of co-operation gives Coun. McKeen hope that Edmonton can address homelessness. However, he says, “we have to spread social housing around the city on major transit routes and allow other communities to volunteer to help. It’s up to all of us to make sure that this city is a just, welcoming and compassionate community for everyone.”

Providing safe housing is not simple. Some neighbourhoods actively block social housing; others are forced to take more than their share. This happened in five downtown neighbourhoods, including McCauley and Central McDougall. In 2012, 61 percent of McCauley housing was “non-market” (ie: social housing) units. Some argued that concentrating social housing creates ghettos and potentially houses those who are vulnerable to addiction and exploitation in triggering areas. The City put a moratorium on new non-market housing in those five neighbourhoods and is encouraging families and seniors to move into the area.

Housing isn’t just about giving people living in difficult circumstances a safe place to suffer, McKeen says. It’s a chance to reach their highest potential. “[Most homeless citizens] are gentle people with the potential to be happy, creative, and good volunteers and neighbours.” Without making room for them, via social housing or accessible services, the housed citizens won’t see beyond the stereotypes of our vulnerable populations.

We’ll always need the Boyle Streets and Bissells of Edmonton. But if we can lessen their loads by providing good housing and stability for the people they serve, Edmonton can become an even better city than the one envisioned in the CCDP . And the bench outside of Daly’s office could come to symbolize something more than the obvious. It could be a place where any of Edmonton’s citizens could sit together and, in doing so, show their highest potential.

Deadly Crosswalks and Other Things the Postwoman Knows


Janet Heikel, Canada Post worker for 28 years.

You come to know a place very well once you’ve walked its every road, five days a week, for the last four years.

For instance, Janet Heikel, the postwoman in charge of a small but densely populated Oliver route, knows the next buildings to be supplanted by towers. She also knows which property’s residents are miffed that said towers will shade their pool. She knows which notable people go to which hair salon and she’s pretty sure she knows who’s addicted to online shopping. She knows the owner of the new izakaya is related to the owner of the new dental lab, and thanks to them, she now knows the best sushi and best dentists city-wide. And she knows that four times a year a certain community newsmagazine will add several pounds and hours to her shift, which she’s not too happy about.

She also knows to begin every day on the north side of her route, where seniors apartments Ansgar Villa and Kiwanis Place are. “They have a certain time that the mail has to come,” said the Canada Post worker of 28 years during a walkabout in July. “And let me tell you, they know everything.” Not just seniors, but construction workers and secretaries alike have made Heikel an authority on these nine-square blocks, but she needn’t their expertise to know that two Jasper Avenue crosswalks along her route—119th and 120 streets—are unsafe.

In four years she’s seen the aftermath of two serious pedestrian accidents and has heard of countless more. “Police used to park here and tag people who don’t stop,” said Heikel, pointing to the 119 St. crosswalk controlled by little more than a sign and some white lines. “But after they’re gone it’s back to the same thing.”

That’s starting to change. Last June, transportation engineers caved under immense pressure from city council and the Oliver Community League, which has raised concerns for years, and deemed those crosswalks—plus two more along the west side of Jasper Ave.—worthy of some traffic lights. Some were installed in August, but lights alone won’t tame the seven-lane, 50-kilometre-an-hour road. That’s why Jasper Ave. is about to undergo a makeover along 109 St. to 124 St.

Public consultations begin this fall and everything is on the table—wider sidewalks, fewer lanes, bike paths, trees, street furniture. Beginning in 2018, it could be the most transformative construction projecton the west side of Edmonton’s main street in a generation, and set the tone for future road projects across the Capital.

But only if the public asks for it; otherwise, the future avenue will resemble the current one, with fresher pavement. The potential redesign was decided after a rather awkward public chiding of the Transportation branch from City Council last December. It was presented in the Capital Budget debates as an $8.8 million road reconstruction, because, unlike the Jasper Ave. redesign east of 109 St., the Oliver portion falls out of the downtown master plan. It’s now been refashioned the “Jasper Avenue Street-scape Concept” plan. What’s the difference?

Imagine you had to renovate your house. Imagine the foundation was so cracked and the floors so pocked and the grass so weeded that the whole thing just needed to be razed and rebuilt. Would you reconstruct it verbatim? Maybe, it if was the perfect house and it suited your needs for the next 40 years.

But west Jasper Ave. is far from perfect. Unlike its Downtown side, there are no trees and few benches, and in addition to risky crosswalks, the sidewalks are narrow and the lanes wider for fast traffic flow. There are other problems too: Businesses hollow the public realm with lifestyle posters and barred and blackened windows, while others abut the side-walks with their parking lots. But those are not your property. Those are your neighbours’. Maybe once they see your spectacular new house they’ll step up in the way that buildings along Whyte Avenue have since its 1980s transformation.

Maybe. Until then, it’s just you, your lot and $8.8 million. What are you going to build?

“During the rush hours of the afternoon, Jasper avenue, the finest and broadest thoroughfare of the whole of the golden west, is frequently so crowded that a heedless farmer or truckman coming down the wrong side of the street will throw the whole system traffic into confusion and frequently causes runaways. … Ye horsemen beware.” – Edmonton Bulletin, 1907

Jasper Avenue is not a house. It’s a main street. In fact, it was originally called Main Street. It crosses through Downtown and into Edmonton’s most populated neighbourhood, one currently undergoing redevelopment and demographic change unprecedented since the 1960s. While surrounding core neighbourhoods shrink, stagnate or see incremental growth, Oliver (as well as Downtown) is growing at the rate of new suburbs. And though 60 per cent of Edmontonians drive to work, the same percentage of Oliver residents don’t, meaning they interact with the sidewalks more as they walk (14 per cent) or bus (21 per cent) to work.

The second mention of Jasper Ave. existing in city archive files is, in fact, about its footpaths. (The first record is its renaming from “Main Street” on Feb. 18, 1882). “The need for sidewalks is greatly felt,” reads the 1883 municipal document urging landowners to invest in them. “There is nothing that gives more City-like appearance to a place than good sidewalks.” It then lays out the benefits: convenient mobility, enhanced property values and the chance to “show to parties that may come here this summer that we do not lack faith in the place ourselves and have some little enterprise in us.”

Deeper into the archives, one sees when road congestion becomes problematic. “During the rush hours of the afternoon,” reads a 1907 Edmonton Bulletin article, “Jasper avenue, the finest and broadest thoroughfare of the whole of the golden west, is frequently so crowded that a heedless farmer or truckman coming down the wrong side of the street will throw the whole system traffic into confusion and frequently causes runaways. … Ye horsemen beware.”

Whyte Ave. and Jasper’s seven-lane widths originated from the need for horsemen to freely turn their carriages, so it’s not until the postwar boom that Ye Carmen and Ye Carwomen must beware. In 1961, four of the ten most accident-prone intersections for cars dotted Jasper, between 100th to 109th street. It would take the city’s best traffic engineers to find solutions with tow-zones and underground parking, so people wouldn’t disrupt traffic by parking until they were beneath it.

Today, not a single Jasper or Whyte crossing makes the top 10 list of vehicle collisions. Not even the top 20.

But year after year, they dominate in pedestrian accidents, according to data acquired through a freedom of information and privacy request by #RebootWhyte, a grassroots campaign to improve Strathcona’s main street. The two worst Jasper Ave. intersections were 113 St. and 109 St., with 13 and 20 pedestrian and bike accidents each since 2005.

There are two ways to look at this: that it’s only natural places with the highest pedestrian volumes would see the most injuries, or that we’ve failed to adequately protect pedestrians in places where they’re most at risk.

Jasper Avenue in 1913, before the automobile revolution.

Jasper Avenue in 1913, before the automobile revolution.

It was a scorching July morning, so Janet Heikel didn’t mind if the sprinklers on Beth Shalom’s lawn spritzed her grey uniform. The flowers were in full bloom. Street-sweepers dabbed their perspiring foreheads. And construction workers hammered away at a nearly finished Jewish seniors residence on the corner of 119th and Jasper, where, 12 months ago to that day, an Earls employee crossing the road was, according to a witness, “tossed like a rag doll,” because a car didn’t stop for her. She was 19 and may never live independently again, yet she may not be alive today if she were one of the seniors living up the block or who’ll soon move into the residential tower.

According to city statistics, they’re five times more likely to die in pedestrian collisions. In 2015’s first four months, five of six pedestrian deaths were seniors. “You should see them standing on the corner with their walkers and canes,” said Heikel. “If they’re not aggressive—and they’re not—no one stops. You have to make a point of stepping out. …There’s been so many times I’ve just said, ‘Come with me, come with me.’”

And it’s not just the elderly she worries about. The Canadian National Institute for the Blind has an office nearby staffed with visually impaired people like Bruce, the custodian on a first-name basis with Heikel. “There’s an audible signal on that,” he said, pointing his broom down the road to 121 St. He turned to the uncontrolled intersection at 120 St. “So I guess you’re taking your chances on that one.” Is that enough for him to walk a block? “No. I’m, like, whatever.”

And therein lies the problem. People don’t like detours, especially if they’re on foot. A traffic engineer might stand on the corner with a clipboard and counter and conclude that traffic lights are unnecessary because there’s a controlled crosswalk 100 metres away. But a pedestrian is, like, whatever. And so he puts one foot in front of the other, assured that a crosswalk wouldn’t exist if it weren’t safe.

In defence of the traffic engineer, Jasper Ave. isn’t a pedestrian plaza. It’s always been and will remain a thoroughfare dutifully transferring the passengers of 30,000 cars, busses and motorcycles to their destinations daily. Whatever comes of the new streetscape, it will need to balance Jasper’s dual identities as main street and thoroughfare, but realizing that one of those identities has long outperformed the other is important to restoring the balance.

“If you’re coming in from an 80-kilometre road and you see these bloody seven-lanes here,” said historian Shirley Lowe, co-author of The Life of a Neighbourhood: A History of Edmonton’s Oliver District 1870–1950. “You think, ‘It’s a car street’—and it is.”

Lowe grew up here in the ’50s and ’60s, shortly after the “West End” was renamed Oliver, and just as the car craze transformed it into what it is today. “I was six years old when I would walk up to Jasper Avenue, get on the number five, go downtown to the school of dance, get off on 106th Street, have my dance lesson, cross Jasper Avenue, get on the bus and get home. By. My. Self.” Would she dare let a child cross it alone today? “No, because of the culture of the road. They’re not looking for pedestrians. I bet if you parked a kid on that corner [119 St.] hell would freeze over before a car would stop.”

For Gil Penalosa, founder of Toronto’s 8–80 Cities and Bogota, Colombia’s former parks commissioner, whether public spaces are safe for children and seniors is the very metric with which he consults municipalities. “If everything we did in our cities was great for an eight-year-old and great for an 80-year-old,” he explained, “then it would be great for everybody.”

It’s a fresh take on a city that saw eight per cent more pedestrian accidents last year, despite dramatic declines in car collisions overall. But it’s ever more urgent as baby boomers age into retirement. By 2031, a million Albertans will be 65 or older. Many will retire in central neighbourhoods to maintain their independence, to walk to the grocer, medi-clinic and bus stop. To keep social ties. “Their number one issue is isolation,” said Penalosa. “They’re terrified of the day they lose their drivers licence, not because they love their cars, but because they want mobility.”


Meanwhile, Millennials—the second largest generation and biggest cohort of the Canadian workforce—are pouring into downtowns and more often choosing not to drive. In 50 years, their children and grandchildren will contribute to Metro Edmonton’s 2.1 million population. What are these generations inheriting? “This isn’t something trivial,” he says. “Being able to walk and bike safely in Edmonton should be a human right.”

Looking at pictures of Jasper Ave., old and new, Penalosa said true walkability can never flourish for as long as there are seven lanes of traffic moving at 50-km an hour and pedestrians must push buttons to cross it. “That’s a clear symptom of their priorities.” But above all, he said, it will take “vision and guts.”

No doubt the 2009 transportation master plan, The Way We Move shows vision. But when it came time for city administrators to deliver on that vision the only guts in sight were those left on the floor last December after councillors tore Transportation a new one. That’s because the downtown bike corridor, complete streets (a policy to serve all road users safely) and active transportation (a policy for walking and cycling) were effectively defunded in the proposed Capital Budget that would direct Edmonton’s growth for the next four years.

“I’m concerned that we still haven’t figured out that people on their feet, on the street, and some-
times on bikes, is a sign of a great and healthy and interactive and integrated city,” an exasperated Mayor Don Iveson said to Transportation head Dorian Wandzura. “And I’m frustrated that after seven years … that still hasn’t gotten through.”

After a brief intermission to welcome George H. Luck School students eager to see city hall’s inner workings, councillors continued to grill Wandzura’s team for its disappointing Jasper Ave. improvement plan, as if they were the sixth graders present. “Can you explain to me how [this] fell off the table?” rebuked Ward 6 Coun. Scott McKeen. “Why we didn’t look at this as an opportunity to do a new urban design, why it’s just a like-for-like rehab—why’d that happen?” Coun. Henderson, who represents neighbourhoods along Whyte Ave., called it “nonsense” and “absolutely crazy.”

The tone was more positive in June as Transportation planners unveiled a new approach to crosswalks, taking pedestrians’ safety, rather than just the national traffic guidelines, into consideration. Ten Jasper, Whyte and 104th avenue intersections would soon have manual controls, at a cost of $100,000 each. However, upgrading the other 190 crosswalks identified as inadequate will take 20 years, while others that probably should have been on the list were disregarded. “I still feel that pedestrian safety is taking second place to concerns about traffic flow,” Coun. Henderson said via email.

A senior administrator who’s asked not to be identified said the message to promote walkability doesn’t resonate for the majority of their colleagues in Transportation. “There’s a lot of will in the planning area, but when we hit operations, people who actually run busses, ETS and LRT are very rigid about how they want things to work.”

The City employee worried that planners working on the Jasper Avenue Streetscape Concept will turn to the rules—guidelines on road width, for instance—and “over-engineer” it just as they did Scona Road.

The 2012 arterial road rehab resulted in ticked-off and ticketed drivers speeding in lanes clearly designed for efficiency, as well as residents of the Mill Creek neighbourhood appalled by its hostile design.

Scona Road is also known as 99 St. But in the Transportation department, it has another nickname: “The Beginning of the End.”

On the afternoon of another summer scorcher, Dorian Wandzura boarded the no. 7 bus, enthusiastically greeted the driver and flashed his ETS staff pass clipped to his slacks. He left the suit jacket at home and wore an “Edmonton Elections 2013” T-shirt, one of his first local keepsakes after arriving in the middle of the political race from the City of Regina. He spent his first months as the new Transportation GM listening more than leading, observing his staff’s prevailing outlook while allowing the refreshed council to find its own. Then he moved on his ambitious plan to align all 3,400 staff with the same four goals around accessible and sustainable transportation.

Employees describe the GM as a strategist. One of his favourite stories to tell happened at NASA happened before he was born, and it’s about John F. Kennedy. While touring the space centre in 1962, the President asked a janitor what he does there. Legend has it the janitor replied, “Well, Mr. President, I’m helping put a man on the moon.”

“That’s the quintessential story of alignment,” explained Wandzura, as the bus climbed Scona Rd. “The janitor plays as equal a roll to getting a man on the moon as the eggheads in the lab. It’s really about making sure the experts understand their role in active transportation and creating vibrant spaces.”

“If I were to close my eyes and fast forward, I could easily see [Jasper Ave. as] a vibrant people-place—lots of activity, lots of vitality, where for 16 hours of the day it has life to it. Where pedestrians and vehicles share this lively place.” –Dorian Wandzura, City of Edmonton’s general manager of transportation

Then why were several of those tenants—not just on Jasper, but city-wide—ignored in the last budget proposal on his watch? “We dropped the ball,” he admitted; Transportation made an error in “not connecting” the street’s necessary renewals with Oliver’s growth. But, he said, funding a complete redo of Jasper in the budget could have displaced a firehall or the Milner’s makeover, hence the $8.8 million won’t be nearly enough to cover the entire 15-blocks and council will need to find money elsewhere in 2019. (As one senior planner put it: “It’s chump change.”)

But that hasn’t discouraged Wandzura. “If I were to close my eyes and fast forward,” he said, “I could easily see [Jasper Ave. as] a vibrant people-place—lots of activity, lots of vitality, where for 16 hours of the day it has life to it. Where pedestrians and vehicles share this lively place.”

He knows a new streetscape won’t achieve it alone, but it’s the first step. To get there, the city—administrators, politicians and residents alike—must view it as a community project rather than just a road project, he said, which is why meaningful public consultation, absent on Scona Rd., is imperative. Wandzura thinks it could be a watershed moment determining how all “premier streets” are upgraded from now on.

One of them, Whyte Ave., was right outside the no. 7’s window. Wandzura pointed to extended street patios, rainbow crosswalks and a polka-dotted alley closed to cars, as evidence of his department’s cultural change. Getting there during a period of rapid growth is like “changing a tire while the car is in motion,” he said. But he insisted they’re getting there.

The unnamed City employee, however, was unconvinced and worried any public consultations could turn to a “bait and switch,” resulting in rigid compromises. The Oliver community will need to “push” if they want serious change, said the administrator.

But push for what? Asked what would make the west side of Jasper friendlier, Janet Heikel didn’t have a clear idea beyond more controlled cross-walks. All she had was a hunch: “For some reason, it’s like a drag race here.” At that point, she ceased being the the sage postwoman and became the common pedestrian.

But if enough pedestrians show up this fall, then maybe together they can help identify those reasons and make it a main street again.

The Oliver Community League has played a critical role in moving Jasper Ave.’s makeover from a rudimentary road project to a full-scale redesign. This timeline shows you how persistent advocacy and engagement makes a tangible difference.

Pre-2010–today: OCL fields residents’ complaints that Jasper Ave. is unpleasant, noisy, and, above all, unsafe. League minutes suggest it’s also car-centric, in disrepair and that it literally divides our community in two.

2011–today: OCL meets numerous times with your councillors Jane Batty (2011–2014) and Scott McKeen (2014–present) to discuss these concerns.

Fall 2014: City administration proposed that Jasper Ave. be repaved in the 2015–2018 Capital budget cycle.

Nov. 2014: OCL members Lisa Brown and Erin Toop present to the full City Council at the budget public hearing. They asked for a safe and welcoming Jasper Avenue, a place for Oliver residents to gather and connect, a street that brings our community together rather than divides it.

Dec. 2014: City Council agrees, voting unanimously to redirect the administration to run a public consultation process that would re-envision the ave.

Fall 2015: City of Edmonton-led consultations begin. The OCL’s message to you? “It’s important that community members participate. We encourage everyone to attend the public meetings or to provide feedback online.”

For information on the meetings or to learn how you can advocate with the OCL, visit or email

The Next Campus: How Universities Will Shape Our Neighbourhoods

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It was the best decision of my life.

After three uncomfortable years in the trades I enrolled in school with visions of the post-secondary life that was to follow: crossing manicured lawns with books tucked under my arms during that perpetual autumn that exists on campus grounds, according to every movie ever made about college. Then I arrived at MacEwan University, first at its bright orange Centre for Arts and Communication building on the west side, then its central campus after my program was moved there the following year. Needless to say, neither had the sprawling quads and the centuries-old trees that shaded Matt Damon and Robin Williams.

Having spent my entire life on an acreage north of Edmonton, I hated going downtown as a kid and I especially hated commuting there as a student—too many people, too many cars. But a strange thing happened not long after clutching my first pair of apartment keys: I started growing attached to the city centre—and the city itself.

Universities of old act like pseudo-cities. They’re self-contained, not just with their own roads but their own housing and commerce, so students can live comfortably on campus 24/7. That’s a far cry from the student life experienced by me and 30,000 others commuting to downtown’s 10 post-secondaries. But as these colleges expand and their student populations explode, could it soon be the standard model for higher learning? And how might that reshape central Edmonton and students like me?

According to the Downtown Business Association, 50,000 students will call downtown home by 2020. It’s easy to see what that prediction is based on. MacEwan University’s new art campus, opening in 2017, will complete the years-long unification of its three fractured schools. Norquest College is also consolidating its five campuses, into two side-by-side towers, while hoping to expand its student body by 2,000 annually. And a decade after it saved the Hudson’s Bay building from demolition, the University of Alberta is trying to build a new home for the Department of Music and Department of Art & Design attached to the ambitious Galleria proposal. Naturally, their tuition-payers will want to live nearby.

It seems that all post-secondaries today want to be city-builders as much as citizen-builders, a trend playing out in cities across the continent. Ryerson University has completely reshaped—and continues to reshape—major sections of downtown Toronto.

It’s a similar story at the University of Winnipeg, Capilano in Vancouver, Concordia in Montreal, New York University in Manhattan and Brooklyn. After centuries of isolating themselves from cities, post-secondaries are becoming one with them.

Early this summer, MacEwan president David Atkinson was at Oxford University for professional development. As he walked down its streets, lined with 12th Century trees and venerable architecture, he took notice of the tall walls fortressing the alma mater of Oscar Wilde and Margaret Thatcher. “Inevitably they have a very tiny entrance and there are two signs,” recalls Atkinson. “One is ‘Visitors Not Welcome,’ and the second, ‘Stay Off the Grass.’” He shakes his head. “That model of higher education is dead. It’s truly dead.”

Atkinson explains that the model of locking away educational facilities is going extinct. More frequently universities, for reasons of development or financing, for instance, are becoming entwined into the communities surrounding them. If done well, it can bolster both the school and the community.

In 1991, when MacEwan broke ground on the old CN Rail yards (artifices of which are still being uncovered during the latest excavation east of Oliver Square), many wondered aloud if it was a sensible thing to do, says Atkinson, who became president in 2011. “And who would have thought that now it’s actually in the epicentre of all this activity?” he asks. “We couldn’t be better located.”

No doubt, student life will be different after the estimated $4 billion downtown makeover is complete and many thousands more students come for higher education. But a major issue arises when addressing the problem of where these students will be housed. After all, how can you create campus life if the majority of your students live in scattered pockets across the city?

After building a 13-floor, 800-plus unit residence in 2005, MacEwan has taken the unusual step of letting private developers offer the solution. The Horizon, a four-storey off-campus building just behind of the university, houses 311 students in 114 very affordable dorm-style suites. Meanwhile the vintage Healy Ford building between MacEwan and Norquest will soon be transformed into a trio of towers, each with a few floors mimicking standard residencies that centre a two- or three-room pod with common kitchens and washrooms.

Atkinson says it’s a godsend for landlocked postsecondary institutions. “We’re not going to use the valuable land to build residences. We’re going to use that for core activity, which is our academic programming.”

A rich campus life can’t just be measured in housing and academia. Students will want places in between their classrooms and dorms to mobilize their social lives, whether they be cafes, quick-service restaurants or large-capacity bars, all of which are emerging in spades in an area that Norquest College has self-designating the “Education District.”

Gord Rajewski, director of the Edmonton Downtown Business Association, believes the sudden influx of youth will be a huge driving force in making downtown a destination spot for entertainment and hospitality.

For decades, businesses have catered to the office crowd, but, says Rajewski, “The impact of three educational institutions expanding in the downtown core is that we have more people, more opportunity for retail, more opportunity to expose young people to the benefits of being downtown.”

But isn’t there something to miss about the traditional campus model that Atkinson declared dead?

A constant cross-pollination of learners and professors sows an environment rich with intellectual discourse and discovery, all of it largely governed around youthful idealism. However, “the benefits of being downtown,” as Rajewski calls it, can’t be overlooked either. As a student, you’re smack dab in the heartbeat of the city, getting a sense of the local conditions you’ll graduate into, while milling about with people in the midst of a career that you might be pining for. The career that you dedicated four years of your life to. And being amongst them helps foster professional relationships, according to Jodi Abbott, the president of Norquest College.

These commuter campuses, she says, avail her students work opportunities beyond what instructors and administration can facilitate. “[Students] are part of the community, rather than in the box doing their education,” explains Abbott. “What it allows them is a transition into work that is a little more natural because they are already in the community.”

These institutions are also trying to integrate their students with what Abbott calls “community-engaged learning,” wherein schools partnerwith specific employers supplying internships. In this scenario, downtown isn’t just a backdrop, but an incubator for students. This could be the thread that ties a student to Edmonton, what keeps him or her here, degree in hand, instead of returning home or job-hunting elsewhere.

But the relationship between school and city, student and community, are symbiotic. Post-secondaries wishing to integrate themselves within urban areas must also contribute amenities, services and infrastructure to the others around them. We see that in MacEwan’s funding of a community rink abutting the new arena, as well as the forthcoming arts centre’s three theatres, art gallery and studio spaces that will be accessible to the public. Norquest’s contribution is a planned park with an expansive lawn punctuated by benches; it will be owned by the college but open to the public.

And then there’s the Galleria project. Although it’s not without its controversies over public financing and whether a 1,000-seat opera house is even sustainable, one can’t ignore the obvious: the University of Alberta, once a model of secluded campus life, wants to place an iconic structure 500 metres from city hall. “Having a university presence in the downtown really contributes to city-building,” says U of A president David Turpin. “It brings people downtown, it supports mixed-use development where you have an increase in the number of people living downtown, working downtown and studying downtown.”

Turpin, who’s been on the job since July, acknowledges that students at the Galleria would have a different experience than those lounging in quad across the river. “They would be closely aligned with the arts community, they would be interacting with theater companies and productions that would be happening in the city.”

But, I ask him, will these music and theatre undergrads miss out on something their engineering, sciences and law counterparts won’t—that romantic campus life, the trees, the student elections, the protests, the rowdy parties? Will they just become just another face in the downtown crowds?

He chuckles and reminds me that the new LRT and planned pedway will in essence keep the campuses linked—all of them, MacEwan, Norquest, NAIT, the University of Alberta—and, thus, link the students as well. Besides, he adds, “It takes less time to get downtown from the U of A main campus than it takes to walk across the campus of many major Canadian universities.”


Student Survival Guide

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Are you one of the many migratory students getting settled in Oliver and Downtown this fall? We’ve got your back. Follow these tips for cheap eats, rides and stress-reliefs.

Apps to Live By

POGO CARSHARE: Tuition cutting into your prospects of car ownership? One of the perks of living in Edmonton’s inner cities is this car-share. It’s insanely simple. Sign up, add a credit card, use your phone to find the nearest car, walk there and boom—you got yourself some wheels.

STREET FOOD EDMONTON: If the spice of life is variety, then the spice of downtown Edmonton is affordable quality food. This app is like a divining rod for the city’s rich mobile food scene, peddling whatever you like—vegan, greasy spoon or something in between—just a short walk from where you’re standing.

TRANSIT APP: It makes public transit easy by automatically pinpointing where you are and guiding you to the nearest bus stop or train station. The arrival times are accurate nearly to the second, so you can gauge whether to walk, jog or sprint for dear life. It works on both Android and Apple.

Your Next Beer Run

BREWSTERS: Do you know what a growler is? It’s a big ol’ jug of beer. Now who doesn’t want a jug of craft beer? Refill it anytime for as little as $14, or just $11 on Saturdays before 5pm.

OLIVER SQUARE LIQUOR DEPOT: You’ll be happy to know it’s open late—till 2am most nights—when you need that 1:53am nightcap after putting the finishing touches on the essay due in seven hours.

THE COMMON: One wouldn’t think of this sleek place known for gourmet food and craft cocktails is also known for cheap beers. That’s because a magical thing happens on Thursday: $4 pints, even on beers you normally couldn’t afford.

Quick, Easy & Nonviolent Stress Relief

FOOD WISH DISHES: Sometimes you need the strong stuff—we’re talking kittens. When school gets too real, head in the direction of 124th street and go cuddle a purr monster at this doggy food bakery and pet shop.

DENIZEN HALL: Sometimes violence is the answer—so long as it’s simulated. Shoot down zombies or rough up ninjas at this arcade bar with the tokens that came with your drinks.

THE (OTHER) LIBRARY: Don’t worry—we know more books are the last things you need. Juice up on mindless binge-watching at Edmonton Public Library’s flagship, the Stanley Milner. It has a dizzying array of DVD box-sets. But if you’d rather not put on pants, punch in the number on your (free) library card online for access to online streaming services like Hoopla and Indieflix.

Correction: An earlier version of this story stated that MacEwan University Residence opened in 2004; that it has 14 floors; and that MacEwan contracted the Horizon to develop the Horizon, a private residence that isn’t affiliated with the university in any way. We regret the errors.

Student Survival Guide


Courtesy IQRemix/Flickr

Are you one of the many migratory students getting settled in Oliver and Downtown this fall? We’ve got your back. Follow these tips for cheap eats, rides and stress-reliefs.

Apps to Live By

POGO CARSHARE: Tuition cutting into your prospects of car ownership? One of the perks of living in Edmonton’s inner cities is this car-share. It’s insanely simple. Sign up, add a credit card, use your phone to find the nearest car, walk there and boom—you got yourself some wheels.

STREET FOOD EDMONTON: If the spice of life is variety, then the spice of downtown Edmonton is affordable quality food. This app is like a divining rod for the city’s rich mobile food scene, peddling whatever you like—vegan, greasy spoon or something in between—just a short walk from where you’re standing.

TRANSIT APP: It makes public transit easy by automatically pinpointing where you are and guiding you to the nearest bus stop or train station. The arrival times are accurate nearly to the second, so you can gauge whether to walk, jog or sprint for dear life. It works on both Android and Apple.

Screen Shot 2015-08-30 at 1.18.06 AMYour Next Beer Run

BREWSTERS: Do you know what a growler is? It’s a big ol’ jug of beer. Now who doesn’t want a jug of craft beer? Refill it anytime for as little as $14, or just $11 on Saturdays before 5pm.

OLIVER SQUARE LIQUOR DEPOT: You’ll be happy to know it’s open late—till 2am most nights—when you need that 1:53am nightcap after putting the finishing touches on the essay due in seven hours.

THE COMMON: One wouldn’t think of this sleek place known for gourmet food and craft cocktails is also known for cheap beers. That’s because a magical thing happens on Thursday: $4 pints, even on beers you normally couldn’t afford.Screen Shot 2015-08-30 at 1.18.06 AM

Quick, Easy & Nonviolent Stress Relief

FOOD WISH DISHES: Sometimes you need the strong stuff—we’re talking kittens. When school gets too real, head in the direction of 124th street and go cuddle a purr monster at this doggy food bakery and pet shop.

DENIZEN HALL: Sometimes violence is the answer—so long as it’s simulated. Shoot down zombies or rough up ninjas at this arcade bar with the tokens that came with your drinks.

THE (OTHER) LIBRARY: Don’t worry—we know more books are the last things you need. Juice up on mindless binge-watching at Edmonton Public Library’s flagship, the Stanley Milner. It has a dizzying array of DVD box-sets. But if you’d rather not put on pants, punch in the number on your (free) library card online for access to online streaming services like Hoopla and Indieflix.

Cycles of Change: Mapping Change Along the Core’s Future Bike Track


Westmount resident and downtown worker Tamsin Shute // photo by Ian Scott

Tamsin Shute began riding her bike to work, at the Stanley Milner Library, from her Westmount home about five years ago. Originally from Vancouver, the children’s librarian and mother of two finds the ride along 102 Ave. relaxing and therapeutic, especially after a long day working with energetic kids. “No matter what’s happened during the day,” says Shute, 35, “just getting on the bike to ride home, I feel so much better.”

On all but a few blocks, where she has to navigate busy downtown traffic, Shute feels comfortable commuting on two wheels. But getting to the point where moderate cyclists like her are comfortable on Edmonton streets hasn’t come easily—and the work is far from done.

Edmonton cyclists have long been an under-serviced minority in a city that loves its trucks. For their part, drivers are often faced with navigating around vulnerable and sometimes unpredictable cyclists. For cyclists, the streets can be hostile with crumbling curb lanes, confusing traffic signage, disconnected networks and, at times, tonnes of speeding metal piloted by drivers who just don’t give a damn. Potholes might be the only thing they can unite on. It’s festered discontent on both sides—discontent that’s not unique to modern Canadian cities trying to promote active transportation. But while Vancouver, Toronto and even downtown Calgary have taken huge steps toward peaceful traffic co-existence, Edmonton has been mired in a slow process of incremental construction, conciliation and occasional back steps.

With the planned redevelopment of 102 Ave. putting new focus on cycling infrastructure in the downtown core, policy makers, municipal planners and cyclists in Edmonton are hoping that will change. At completion, cyclists will be able to pop by the Downtown farmers’ market for some carrots and berries, maybe a latte, visit a boutique or two, check out the action on Churchill Square, attend art galleries, a play, the symphony, and return home—all on one continuous glide from 96th to from there will be a matter of both public and political will.

“That was one of the big losses for Edmonton. These were reasonable ideas that were good for the environment, good for the economy, and they just weren’t embraced.” —Angela Bischoff, activist and partner of late councillor Tooker Gomberg

Biking has become a fashionable expression of environmental, health and urbanist consciousness, especially among under-40s. Inspired by these ideals, and by rising fuel costs, parking rates and commute times, more people are getting back on the saddle for the first time since childhood. But it’s not all Jane Jacobs disciples and downtown hipsters spurring the charge, nor is it a new idea— not even for Edmonton.

Back in the late 1980s, when the late educator, activist and politician Tooker Gomberg arrived on the scene, political support was lean for bicycle and eco-friendly initiatives. Gomberg quickly got involved with the Edmonton Bicycle Commuters Society, through which he met his life partner Angela Bischoff.

Together they lobbied hard for cycling initiatives. It was an exciting time, Bischoff recalls, but frustrating too. One failed campaign, Rails to Trails, aimed to convert old, downtown railway lines into a network of dedicated bike trails—a completely car-free corridor. “That was one of the big losses for Edmonton,” laments Bischoff. “These were reasonable ideas that were good for the environment, good for the economy, and they just weren’t embraced.”

Tired of battling an entrenched administration, Gomberg ran for city council in 1992 and won. That year, Council approved the city’s first Bicycle Transportation Plan and began expanding and paving multi-use trails in the river valley. Eventually, work began on urban streets, widening curb lanes, adding sharrows (painted markings indicating shared paths for drivers and cyclists) and extending suburban bike lanes. Combined, this system of trails skirted the periphery of downtown occasionally infiltrating the city centre but never quite coalescing into a fully integrated bike network.

Sharrows, introduced in 2010, were especially confusing and frustrating to cyclists and drivers alike. In 2013, then mayor Stephen Mandel lamented that bike infrastructure development was turning into “a nightmare,” after Ritchie residents complained about the prospect of losing parking along neighbourhood streets. It was a major setback for those in government and advocacy who’d dedicated themselves to quelling the growing cultural war.


Photo Courtesy of YEG Bike Coalition

In October 2014, the bike community learned that funding for cycling infrastructure, including another bike lane north of Whyte Ave., might be axed from the 2015 budget. To rally support, the Edmonton Bike Coalition quickly launched a campaign inviting cyclists to share images of themselves on bikes, holding signs reading “I bike,” “We bike,” and “I would bike.” A video mosaic of over 1,000 of these distinct images played on a loop in city hall. In December, City Council unanimously passed an $8.8 million budget for active transportation in the downtown core, with the 102 Ave corridor as a centrepiece.

The decision to approve the plan, which also calls for a dedicated cycling path along 105 Ave., north of the Edmonton Arena District, was heralded as a sign of renewed support for bicycle transportation in urban Edmonton. Under Don Iveson, Edmonton’s notably pro-cycling mayor, municipal support for bicycle initiatives is at an unprecedented high. But what does the city have to gain from that?

Few riders have logged as many kilometres on Edmonton streets as CJSR bicycle traffic reporter Karly Coleman. Every day, Coleman rides through a cross-section of downtown, across the High Level Bridge and to the University of Alberta, where the human ecology student is also writing her master’s thesis on how cyclists define themselves and construct identity on two wheels. “Riding not only gives you a sense of your immediate physical environment,” says the former MEC sustainability coordinator and Bikeology director, “it gives you a sense of your immediate social environment as well.”

On a larger scale, that question of identity can also be extended to cities. What happens when a city defines itself by its transportation mode?

For far too long, downtown Edmonton was defined by the car, says Tyler Golly, general supervisor of the City’s Sustainable Transportation department. “The design philosophy was to move as many cars and to get them in and out of downtown as fast as possible,” he explains. “We were trying to achieve extremely high levels of service for the automobile, which deprived the environment for people living or working here.”

Cities such as Copenhagen and Amsterdam have been redefined by cycling and active transportation, and how it gives life to public space, reduces vehicle congestion and pollution, and, generally speaking, contributes to better quality of life. Places like Portland, Melbourne and, notably, Minneapolis—which has a climate akin to ours—are successfully following suit. These cities are reshaping their urban infrastructure towards bicycles and pedestrians not because it’s easy, but because it makes sense. But does it make sense for Edmonton?

The number one thing you need to make it work isn’t infrastructure, but bikes. And there are many of them in the core. According to the Bicycle Trade Association of Canada, 80 per cent of Oliver households have at least one. How many of them get used is another matter. Three per cent of Edmontonians ride their bikes daily, according to a 2013 Bannister poll, while 35 per cent ride every week. Those numbers suggest that the potential is there, but what will it take to convert more of them into regular or even occasional cyclists?

“The design philosophy was to move as many cars and to get them in and out of downtown as fast as possible. We were trying to achieve extremely high levels of service for the automobile, which deprived the environment for people living or working here.” —Tyler Golly, City of Edmonton’s Sustainable Transportation

Generally, cyclists fall into one of four categories, as identified by Portland transportation engineer Roger Geller. “Strong and fearless” riders, like Coleman, are undeterred by traffic or weather conditions. You might find them charging through stale yellow lights or merging across lanes at the speed of traffic. “Enthused and confident” riders are a little more conservative, keeping to the curb and waiting until all is clear to switch lanes. Combined, these groups account for less than 10 per cent of cyclists.

But then there’s “interested but concerned” riders, which comprise the largest population segment, 54 per cent according to a 2013 City survey. These Edmontonians ride a bike now and then, though not on a regular basis nor solely for commuting. They may get out on the occasional leisurely ride on river valley trails but they’re hesitant to engage with traffic. (The remaining 30 per cent is the “no way no how” group for whom riding is out of the question.) Tamsin Shute is somewhere in the middle.

“I’m definitely a fairweather biker,” says Shute, who commutes by bike half the year from April through September. “When I first started riding downtown I was really scared. Just the way the roads work, I have to go into the middle lane and there’s a lot of buses and taxis weaving in and out. So that’s where I have to keep my eyes open and be really cautious.”

Since the fearless and the confident will ride anyway, the City is focused on creating infrastructure for the middle categories, to put them at ease and build their confidence in hopes that they will take up cycling in greater numbers and frequency. According to an independent review by engineering consultant Urban Systems, one of the key things that would make more Edmonton cyclists feel safe is proper, dedicated infrastructure.

That’s where the 102 Ave. bike corridor comes in. The current design concept prioritizes active travel over vehicular traffic, with bike lanes physically separated from the street by a curb or structural divider. “Cars will still be able to use it as an access road, but it’s going to completely change,” explains Golly. “The priority users are going to be bicycles and pedestrians.”

Although Golly’s been working with a renewed and robust guiding document for bike infrastructure development since 2009, the last six years were marred by false starts. On top of the culture war, public resistance and limited funding has prevented planners from realizing the full potential. “It was like you’re a student backpacking through Europe on a shoestring budget,” Golly analogizes. “That’s what we did—we tried to provide as much bicycle infrastructure as we could with the limited funds we had.”


Hornby Separated Bike Lane

What a separated bike lane looks line in downtown Vancouver // photo by Paul Krueger (Flickr)

“The result of that was some people not being happy,” he says. “Change is never easy for a city.” Big change is certainly ahead, but there’s no guarantee on what the end result will look like, yet. The 102nd and 83rd avenue designs are still in consultation, and public input could sway the designs before shovels hit the ground next year. “You can have policies galore,” says Natalie Lazurko, Golly’s colleague in the financial and capital planning department, “but unless you have people advocating for this and willing to put their neck on the line to support it…politically, you don’t have a hope of actually getting there.”

That support wasn’t always there when it was needed in past, from council or administration, she says. “It’s a large corporation with many different years of experience. Some have been working under the old approach for years and years, and so just like we have to change people’s minds in public, it’s the same internally.”

But what if that political will shifts again? Frustrated, vehicle-bound ratepayers could still pressure the City into cutting funding and scaling back plans. It’s happened before. With so many other major capital projects, as well as growing infrastructure maintenance costs, budget priorities can change dramatically year over year, resulting in watered-down versions of grander plans.

As the population swells over the next few years, a legacy of auto-centric urban design will continue to accentuate downtown congestion problems. It will take a consistent, concerted effort by drivers, cyclists, pedestrians, planners and politicians— but the bicycle could be a part of the solution.

“Whatever the result, it will be better than it is now,” says Shute. “If it were a bit more safe, I would definitely opt to take the bike more often when we go out [as a family]. I want my kids to feel comfortable on bikes.”

Community By Design: The Citizen’s Role in Urban Planning


Amanda Henry, Oliver Community League membership director and Edmonton Federation of Community Leagues assistant executive director.

Since the first drawings of the Molson Brewery redevelopment were unveiled in early 2013, the Oliver Community League tried to stop it. Not because it didn’t want development on the troubled district. Far from it. But because a pending rezoning of the land would allow more of the same car-oriented power centres like Oliver Square to the east of it. And that, they argued, would undermine the community and City’s plans for a sustainable core.

The OCL initially engaged the developers, Sunlife and First Capital, directly. It held a charrette for residents of Oliver, Westmount, Queen Mary Park and other surrounding neighbourhoods. It organized them to demand a pedestrian and transit-friendly development at City Hall’s hearings. It filed a Freedom of Information and Protection of Privacy request to retrieve internal City of Edmonton files that revealed dissenting views from planners whose opinions were in line with the league. Finally, the league hired a lawyer and went to court at a cost of almost $24,000, asserting that councillors were misled by one of their top city planners. The judge disagreed.

On Dec. 8, after 21 months of negotiation and debate, the OCL’s fight came to an end. The case was rejected.

Few community leagues would go to these lengths for matters of urban design and, surely, few Edmontonians would join one to get entangled in law. When we think of community leagues it’s usually sports clubs, pancake breakfasts, hockey rinks and Christmas parties that come to mind. “That’s where you get the good vibes,” explains Bev Zubot, planning advisor for the Edmonton Federation of Community Leagues, which provides advisory support to all 157 leagues. But she’s noticed a change. “There’s a movement of people expecting to have more control over their immediate environments.”

And community leagues are often the means through which they mobilize. But what is their role in planning matters, and should they have one at all? It calls into question the value of expertise, egalitarianism and fair representation.

At worst, the league itself could serve as a sounding board for a vocal minority opposing anything that threatens the existing state of affairs, perhaps social housing or LRT, or limply serve as a token box for the city to tick on consulting the community.

“We’re not really in the business of blocking things. The fact that you want to build here is great. Welcome to the neighbourhood, but here’s our handbook for how you can be a good neighbour.’” —Amanda Henry

But, at best, a league that busies itself with planning and urbanism issues, while actively recruiting diverse membership, plans for a future most residents want.

It’s easy to think of examples of the former (just picture the last screaming match you witnessed at an open house). In fact, not long ago Oliver’s league opposed high-density infill, like The Pearl tower. “They were trying to preserve and un-preservable reality,” says Amanda Henry, “an Oliver that looks like Aspen Gardens.”

Henry joined the OCL in 2012 during an especially drawn out and infuriating AGM. Her first AGM, in fact. After speaking out against its dysfunction, she excused herself for the washroom but couldn’t get far without other members begging her to volunteer as secretary. Now, not only is she the league’s membership director but she’s become an assistant executive director for the EFCL. All she knew about leagues three years ago was that most had a hall. Now she says, “They offer a really unique opportunity for immediate and tangible community-building. ”

In the case of the Molson Brewery redevelopment (opening late 2015 as the Edmonton Brewery District) engaged residents and, evidentially, some silenced city planners pressed for a walkable mix of stores and residences interacting with the streets and future West LRT Line. “We’re not really in the business of blocking things,” says Henry. “The fact that you want to build here is great. Welcome to the neighbourhood, but here’s our handbook for how you can be a good neighbour.’”


Ian O’Donnell, Downtown Edmonton Community League vice-president and development committee chair

Last year saw other examples of other leagues also attempting a more collaborative than combative approach: Queen Alexandra Community League took to social media with its “Cross-roads” initiative hoping to guide its inevitable neighbourhood renewal project to be more “walkable, bikeable, liveable;” a conglomerate of the Oliver, Westmount, Downtown Edmonton and Glenora leagues organized a pop-up bike lane on 102 Ave. to prove it wouldn’t be the boogeyman some feared; and when Daryl Katz made a major arena announcement at City Hall last year, he was joined by Downtown Edmonton Community League’s vice-president and development committee chair, Ian O’Donnell.

“It was nice to be recognized for the amount of work the community league did to help shape the new design,” says O’Donnell, who works for an architectural firm. He wouldn’t have expected it four years ago when the Katz Group showed DECL its preliminary designs. It was too inward-focused, he says, standing as a monolith rather than integrating with the present urban fabric. “We told them we were a little disappointed,” he says. “At that point, we became even more involved with the city and the Katz Group.”

“There’s been a lot more attention towards urbanism and there’s a lot of interesting people in the city bringing new ideas,” says Erik Backstrom, a senior city planner on transit-oriented development. Like Zubot of the EFCL, he’s witnessed an awakening of urban planning interests within the public sphere. But unlike them, few armchair urbanists have professional civic experience—especially not Backstrom’s nine years of education and 15 years with the City. Still, he welcomes it and finds it invigorating.

Other cities’ versions of community leagues don’t have as many privileges. Toronto, for example, has “ad hoc” neighbourhood associations, says Sandeep Agrawal, inaugural director of the University of Alberta’s planning program. “Here, it’s more organized and recognized.”

Edmonton has a rich history of community organized activism. In 1917, residents of the Crestwood neighbourhood had grown tired of their infrastructure needs being ignored. At a time when municipal power lie more with developers than governments, the neighbours banded and formed Canada’s first community league. By 1921 there were nine. It kept growing.

But somewhere around the mid-20th century, explains Zubot of the EFCL, leagues started diverting from the planning needs of their neighbourhoods and started focusing more on recreational and social initiatives. “[They] got away from the basics.”

Worldwide, but especially in booming Edmonton, a post-modern school of thought shifted control to city hall. There, new neighbourhoods were drawn up and executed with developers based on a modern vision centred around personal vehicles. This method of “urban renewal” meant clearing large swaths of areas for redevelopment, usually resulting in pristine yet sprawling and car-reliant communities. “We all believed this was progress,” says Zubot. “Only after cities lost their human scale, became less ‘liveable,’ was there a backlash.”

BEVZUBOT-YARDSPRING2015 Bev Zubot, Edmonton Federation of Community Leagues planning advisor

The backlash has a word: advocacy planning. Whereas urban renewal was “a top-down approach from those in charge, commissioners or planners, leading the way with no input from the public,” Agrawal says, advocacy planning meant “planners should be able to advocate everybody’s point of view.” It put our community leagues, emboldened by decades of experience, in a powerful position, which the EFCL recognized quickly. In 1977 , then-president Don Eascott challenged City Hall to give leagues more power. “There is a popular trend in the city for citizen participation and citizen involvement,” he wrote in a municipal report, “and it is naive to think the community leagues should exist only for hockey programs.”

Locally, this movement saw the formation of Area Redevelopment Plans in the 1980s. Mature neighbourhoods like Oliver started forming these neighbourhood blueprints with city administration, leagues and any interested parties. These collaborative plans were a tool for leagues to dictate what could be or couldn’t be built in each neighbourhood. But, mostly, it leaned toward the latter, putting public servants in a tight spot, especially as Edmonton climbed out of a recession and development picked up again in the late 1990s. Suddenly ARPs weren’t so easy to honour.

“There was feeling on council like, ‘Why are we doing these ARPs if, when a development proposal comes up, they’re not relevant?’” explains Backstrom. “And it left the community wondering, ‘Well what was the point of all this work we put into it for the past two years, if council is just going to ignore it?” After a reorganization of the planning branch, the ARP department was effectively shut down. Today, they exist more for corridors than communities, such as that for 104 Ave., and are amendable as ever.

“The advice and recommendations of planners are frequently overridden by neighbourhood residents who know very little about the range of topics that underline the profession, but feel they know better because they have lived in a community for so many years.” —Michael Geller, architect (Vancouver Courier)

Henry believes that neighbourhood ARPs were ineffective tools, often abused to maintain status quo. “It would be reckless to try to constrain the natural progression of development as an LRT goes through it.” She much prefers that her league be agile, educated and active conduits between developers and planners.

O’Donnell of DECL echoes this. “We want to have a win-win, and not be adversarial in how we approach it,” he says. “It’s not about how much or little input people have, but the quality of input, review and feedback that is provided.”

Whether you’re interested in urbanism, crime-prevention or just grilling smokies—now’s the perfect time to get involved.
Oliver Community League AGM: Apr. 29 at 7pm, OCL Hall (10326 118 St.)
Downtown Edmonton Community League AGM: May 12 at 7 pm, DECL Community Space (10042 103 St.)

To that end, DECL and OCL allow for some interested members to attend the City of Edmonton’s Planning Academy, one and two-day courses for the public to brush up on issues like urban design and land use. Others educate themselves online or by travelling.

But without education, decentralized planning can be detrimental. In a provocative Vancouver Courier op-ed last year titled “Is it time to say goodbye to the experts?” architect Michael Geller wrote: “…the advice and recommendations of planners are frequently overridden by neighbourhood residents who know very little about the range of topics that underline the profession, but feel they know better because they have lived in a community for so many years.”

Further, it can burn people out, especially in neighbourhoods like Downtown Edmonton and Oliver, home to 13,000 and 20,000 people, respectively, and growing faster than anyone 20 years ago would have imagined. Being an active participant in so many developments at once is tiring and could potentially drive away people from joining leagues for noble neighbourly affairs they’re better known for. “As a volunteer, trying to keep on top of all that can be draining,” says Judy Allan, the City’s revitalization coordinator who helped facilitate 118 Ave.’s renewal plan. “Especially as the city is really booming right now.”

Equally important as large volunteer bases are varied ones, with many roles, goals and active volunteers representing the spectrum of interests. Otherwise, it’s easy for decision-makers to dismiss leagues as lacking representation.

“The community league is the most barrier-free entry to organize citizen action in the city,” says Henry. “It’s dead easy. … And then you go forth and make that thing happen.”