How's this for ironic: In my quest to exchange sylvan-yet-car-dependant suburbia for swanky, walkable downtown digs, I chose Toronto's first multi-level parking garage as my new home.
As regular readers of this space know, my wife and I marked the end of 2010 with another end, that of our "suburban experiment" of split-level Scarborough living. To replace our increasingly long commute, we chose - quite by accident - a building that was, by the late 1970s, a derelict 1926 parking garage at the corner of Church and Lombard streets.
In 1980, it was announced that the building would become luxury condominiums after a multi-million-dollar makeover masterminded by Toronto architect Ferdinand Wagner, who had purchased the property and successfully rezoned it from industrial to residential use.
However, money was tight for this self-described rags-to-riches-to-rags-again architect.
"I got over-extended," he explains. "I owned big chunks of Jarvis Street and I had stuff everywhere undeveloped; my interest carrying-costs were insane."
A meeting with a newly-arrived Englishman with a marketing and real estate background, John Blackburn, led to a development partnership that included the deep pockets of London-based Fairview Estates. A publicity photo of Mr. Blackburn, then 38-years-old, shows a tall, double-breasted gent sporting a bowler on his head, an umbrella in hand, a gold 1965 Rolls-Royce at the ready and a ripe-for-redevelopment six-storey brick hulk in the background.
"Oh, John's a dandy," says the 1968 University of Toronto graduate with a laugh. "When you're in marketing, you have to be like that; I can't stand doing that, I hate sales with a passion and John loves it … he basically put it all together."
And the "it" was ingenious: In addition to coming up with the rather regal moniker "The Bentley" for the building (after the legendary automobile), Mr. Blackburn offered purchasers one week per year at a timeshare in Barbados … for life. A February 1981 advertisement boasted that buyers were getting "[t]o luxury homes for the price of one." Press releases boasted that because of the building's former life as a bunker-like concrete parking garage, floors were "10 times stronger" than required for a residential building. By April 1981, advertisements were trumpeting the "Critical Acclaim" received from the Toronto Star, Sun and City Dweller magazine and declaring that the building had set a "New Standard."
The standard could have been even newer, says Mr. Wagner with a tinge of regret, had his backers allowed him to design the suites as true 'hard' lofts with exposed ductwork and high, concrete ceilings: "I was in New York and I saw the lofts and I said 'Wow, [The Bentley]is made for lofts, but I could not convince anybody, so I had to go conventional because of financing - isn't that sad?"
As I stand in my new kitchen, wallpaper steamer in hand, looking up into the hole that used to be the illuminated California ceiling - at the two feet I could have gained - I'm inclined to agree. Had the building been converted in the mid-1990s rather than the early 1980s, a Soho loft-look probably would have been a shoo-in. Referencing The Bentley along with other projects in the January 1981 Globe and Mail article " A condo on every corner?" Eleanor Barrington wrote: "Ten years ago, the luxury condominium concept was all but unheard of in Toronto."
In other words, condominium living was still in its infancy, and high-end buyers weren't ready for the raw look yet. And speaking of raw, after pulling up 30-year-old carpet to reveal concrete floors, I thought briefly of applying a simple coat of varnish, but since I don't want to remove the drop-ceilings as well (and can't afford such a major renovation), I'm laying down hardwood floors in keeping with the building's conventional look. Since our mid-century modern furniture collection is somewhat unconventional, I figure that aspect is covered.
One thing the 1980s did have over modern-day projects is size. While today's developers have no problem selling 500 square-foot shoeboxes, 1970s and 80s developers had to lure buyers with size. For that reason, our condo-hunt was governed by a rule that we would only look at buildings built prior to 1990.
While we knew this meant we'd likely have to update a few spaces, what we got in return was over 1,000 sq. ft. with an actual, separate kitchen (as large as the one in our 1961 home), a bedroom big enough to hold a baby grand piano (we know this because the previous owner had one) and a dining area that fits our chunky early-1950s Russell Spanner sideboard and dining set.
And as we visit The Bentley more and more in preparation for our upcoming move, we keep learning neat things, too, such as how some of the sturdy parking ramps were impossible to remove, which explains why the two lobby elevators sit at different levels separated by a carpeted ramp. Or how's this: The first person to buy a unit was Canadian actor John Vernon.
If this place is cool enough for Wojeck (or Animal House's Dean Wormer if you prefer), it's certainly cool enough for me.
Dave LeBlanc