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The shallow rake and stretched ovoid shape create unexpected drama. The wide treads in emerald-green terrazzo cause some to ponder during their climb, while tardy ones streak by, footfalls clacking off the smooth curvaceous walls. The rich wooden handrail coils upward, snake-like, past hidden cove lighting and on to the second floor, suspended by minimalist spindles punctuated by jaunty red ornaments.

Architect Eric Arthur's "grand staircase" at Victoria College's Wymilwood building may just be the sexiest post-war staircase in Toronto. It also may be handed -- along with the rest of the 1952 student union building -- a death sentence in April by an advisory committee asked to determine its future.

Aine O'Hare of The Strand, Victoria College's student newspaper, reported in January that the building's days "are numbered" because of "inaccessibility" and the "need for a central student centre."

Say it ain't so, Vic.

For most of his 43-year teaching career in the University of Toronto's faculty of architecture, Eric Ross Arthur was too busy grooming Toronto's future stars and advocating for preservation of Ontario's architectural heritage to see many of his own buildings erected, which makes Wymilwood a very special -- and rare -- place.

However, looking east down Charles Street West with the glowing white orb of the Planetarium at one's back, it's difficult to pick out his low-slung, red brick masterpiece from among flashier neighbours such as Hariri Pontarini's McKinsey & Co. headquarters, and the Isabel Bader Theatre by Kuwabara Payne McKenna Blumberg.

"[The building] was very well thought out and it sits beautifully there behind Annesley Hall," says Stephen A. Otto, who edited the 1986 edition of Prof. Arthur's seminal 1964 book Toronto: No Mean City. "It was a residential street at the other end for many years after Wymilwood was erected."

In fact, Mr. Arthur himself wrote in the February, 1954, issue of the Royal Architectural Institute of Canada's journal that "every effort was made to keep the union domestic in character."

However, this understated domesticity, while attesting to the fine context achieved by Prof. Arthur and partner William Fleury, might not bode well for Wymilwood's preservation, since, sometimes, what doesn't get noticed doesn't get saved.

But only the most perfunctory walk through the building fails to reveal Wymilwood's many charms. Once up the magnificent staircase (flanked by a matching planter box now containing crumpled gum wrappers rather than plants), there are original cone fixtures and thick terrazzo windowsills under still-operational crank windows in the second-floor corridor leading to the Copper and Music rooms.

The Copper Room, named for its swanky copper-hooded fireplace, reminds fine arts Professor Elizabeth Legge of the sort of place James Mason's character in Hitchcock's North by Northwest would have hatched an evil scheme, probably while sitting under the huge modernist chandelier. There, it's possible to study the amazing arches that hold the Douglas fir ceiling aloft; shaped reinforced concrete was used because of a steel shortage. In the music room, the original cork flooring remains intact.

Two flights down in the coffee shop, the fireplace's floating, segmented mantel is a wonderful touch of whimsy. The coffee shop's sunken terrace provides shelter, further enhancing the feeling of domestic warmth and security.

Decades ago, original art by the Group of Seven hung where photocopied flyers are taped today, and the oval void of the grand staircase was bejewelled with an Alexander Calder-style mobile.

While these elements are long gone, the building itself has been spared the heavy hand of renovation (probably by neglect, as Prof. Legge points out); the original fenestration, flooring and finishes survive.

But, if more space is what the committee determines is required, they need look no further than the existing building.

Additional space could be dropped on top of the former dining hall (now used as offices), since Prof. Arthur designed the zigzagging, folded plate roof with a four-storey vertical expansion in mind. Imagine a glass pavilion sitting atop the already expansive glass walls -- a beacon, if you will -- that would be in keeping with the international style aesthetic that was gaining favour in the early 1950s with buildings such as Gordon Bunshaft's Lever House in Manhattan (also completed in 1952).

The wheelchair accessibility problem could be solved easily, too. There is an unused elevator shaft waiting inside a janitorial closet. It's like Prof. Arthur thought of everything, except perhaps that his legacy might go unnoticed.

With minor intervention, Wymilwood could again be a vital part of Victoria College and a living museum of Prof. Arthur's architecture -- a sort of bookend to the gallery at the faculty of architecture that bears his name.

"These are early days and perhaps with a better understanding of what they've got there they'll come at the job differently," Mr. Otto says. "I'm always optimistic that people will recognize excellence when it's brought to their attention."

Dave LeBlanc hosts The Architourist on CFRB Sunday mornings. Inquiries can be sent to dave.leblanc@globeandmail.com.

CORRECTION

The Isabel Bader Theatre was designed by Lett/Smith Architects. The architects were incorrectly identified in Dave LeBlanc's The Architourist column last week.