February 4, 1999 

One of my minor passions is refurbishing things. I love to remove years of grime and gunk from solid old objects like candlesticks or brass door knobs. I like to see an oil painting come alive while being revarnished, or a piece of architectural detailing relieved of generations of encrusted paint. So I got a small thrill of satisfaction the other day while watching workmen at Victoria Hall remove layers of cheap floor coverings to get at the ¾-inch solid oak flooring that once graced - and will grace again - the concert hall. First they ripped off all the vinyl-asbestos tile stuck down in 1984, along with a thin plywood underlay. Next, they removed yet another covering of even older tiles by heating them and the black mastic underneath with a huge blow-torch. Tiles were then lifted off with an ice scraper.

After some heavy-duty sanding, the original floor was revealed. Aside from some blackening in the corner owing to water damage, the floor was in good shape. Not in the herring-bone pattern I hoped we would find, but a handsome floor just the same. We all asked the obvious question: why did they stick down linoleum tiles on perfectly good hardwood? I guess in those pre-urethane days, constant maintenance and waxing was a pain.

Our still-dignified dowager, now 74 years old, was in need of more than cosmetic repair. Slapping down a coat of paint or floor tiles as we did in 1984 was not enough this time around. The windows were rotting, roof leaking, the electrical system antiquated. There was no air conditioning.

Decorative plasterwork sprouted a kind of canker - an exfoliation of its surface caused by the leaching of water coming in from holes in the roof. There was surface-mounted conduit and gyproc partitions, a leftover from 1995 when Victoria Hall served as a temporary library.

And as for toilets: in the whole building, there were three(!) fixtures for women, seven for men. Total fixtures will more than double. Toilets will have traditional white tiles and marble countertops and partitions. We'll be recycling some of the old marble partitions, in fact.

There will be a gallery linking Victoria Hall to the Palm House and the library. It is, technically, a glazed loggia. With a glass roof and wall, it will be a bright, airy place to walk through, stop for a coffee, or admire art.

I have always felt that the outside of Victoria Hall was a bit forbidding - it's more like an armoury than a civic centre. But the concert hall has magnificent proportions. As does my favourite room - the Lodge Room. Its raised platforms, padded doors, vaulted ceiling, oak wardrobes and "Juliette" balcony all lend that room a mystery that recalls its original use.

New curtains and colours may soften the stern aspect of Victoria Hall, but they won't hide its endearing quirkiness and solidity.

While we are on budget with the Victoria Hall project, we're running about a month later than scheduled. But it will be worth the wait.

[Be nice to it ... David Nicholson's Grand Father G.W.T. Nicholson, who built our City Hall had something to do with the orginal Victoria Hall.]

Previous page page

• Menu of Trent's Stories
• January 14, 1999 O CHRISTMAS PALM
  
• November 26 BOURQUE REDUX
  
• November 12 MASS TRANSIT: GLORIA MUNDI?
  
• September 3, 1998 SOUND BEGETS FURY
  
• 2 Oct TAXATION BY MISREPRESENTATION
  
• 12 OCT on $500,000,000 TAX GRAB Tax grab turns into burlesque
  
• 16 OCT A MEETING WITH BOUCHARD