St. Peter’s Estonian Evangelical Lutheran church on Mount Pleasant Rd. in Toronto.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
In her inimitable style, Globe and Mail society columnist Zena Cherry described the Estonian-Finnish wedding of Helvi Vickholm and Jaak Iir on June 16, 1967. But, along with the usual anecdotes and noting of attendees, Ms. Cherry dedicated about a quarter of her allotted ink to the church, St. Peter’s Estonian Evangelical Lutheran, which she opined would “add to any sightseeing tour of the city.
“It is unique and beautiful,” she continued, “and according to architect Michael Bach is still the only structure of its kind in Canada, perhaps in North America. There is no ridge at the peak of the roof; instead, the rafters criss-cross to hold it together. The structure is completely exposed and the rafters form the architectural pattern; the roof flows down to form the walls.”
I visited St. Peter’s at 817 Mount Pleasant Rd. just a few days ago. Before that, it was about 20 years ago on the advice of architect Jerome Markson, who counted the Estonia-born Mr. Bach as a close friend. The way soft light washes the altar from almost-hidden, twin skylights that run the length of the winged gable roof is pure architectural magic. And how clever that the congregation enters under a low ceiling, much like visitors to Toronto’s City Hall (by Finnish architect Viljo Revell), and then are treated to the rhapsody of ‘release’ into that high-ceilinged “criss-cross” of warm, laminated timber. Even little details – such as the chevron-shaped pew sides that act as counterpoint to that ceiling, or the how the exterior is carried inside by the use of exposed brick behind the altar and elsewhere – all are masterful.
As has been said by others, the interior can be viewed as an overturned boat that represents the safe harbour Estonians found in Toronto post-1945 (Toronto is home to the largest population of Estonians outside of Estonia).
St. Peter's was built in 1955 by architect Mihkel (Michael) Bach.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
But there is a real danger that this 1955 tour de force by Mihkel (Michael) Bach (1916-1972) won’t exist for much longer. According to a heritage application prepared by former congregant and Sunday school teacher Tiiu Roiser, St. Peter’s executive committee held a vote in September, 2020 to gauge interest in selling; the building, you see, sits on a valuable piece of midtown real estate and suffers from dwindling attendance. The problem, she wrote, is that “only members who had contributed financially to the church the previous year were invited and allowed to vote” and that “many elderly members may not have fully grasped the enormity and finality of the decision.”
The vote passed. But those in favour of preservation have rallied and the “Friends of St. Peter’s” was born (friends-of-st-peters.com). In addition to petitions and the aforementioned heritage application, the Friends also prepared a business plan in the fall of 2022 because, says Ms. Roiser, the church seemed to lack vision.
“They didn’t try any new programs, it was just kind of status quo – ‘Oh everybody’s getting old,’” she says. “There didn’t seem to be too much enthusiasm in trying to drum up more [business] and they were also of the mind that it was just used as an Estonian church. … There was a tango group once, and there were elections there once, but no concerted effort that I could see.”
Though a plan to sell the building has been reversed, heritage advocates say the building is still endangered.Dave LeBlanc/The Globe and Mail
The Friends’ plan suggested the following: instead of paying a full-time pastor, one could be shared with another congregation (this would free up the on site three-bedroom apartment for income); parking spots could be rented out during the week; since rooms and other spaces are empty much of the time, the Friends suggest renting to the Montessori School or a daycare; also, the wider neighbourhood could be engaged via a drop-in centre or exercise or yoga classes; revenue opportunities could also come from concerts, film festivals, or private events.
Likely because of this enlightened – and very modern – approach, the Friends have gained followers and signatures. In fact, just a few days ago, another vote was held and those in favour of saving the building won by a very slim margin, causing the current executive committee to resign.
Which should mean that the building is safe. But it’s more complicated than that. If another pro-development group gets in, nothing changes, says Ms. Roiser: “We are in big danger. … When you start analyzing what comes next; [The church] is in financial danger as well, I’m not going to lie … we only have so many years left unless something drastic is done.
“I feel like there are vultures circling,” she finishes, her voice quivering with emotion.
It’s a situation facing many religious buildings in Canada, particularly those built by immigrants in the older parts of cities. As the original, blue-collar congregation becomes too old to attend services and their university-educated children move on to greener (suburban) pastures, attendance inevitably drops and those holding the purse strings (of an increasingly threadbare purse) start to court condo developers.
And while façadism or teardowns might work in some situations, St. Peter’s is more than just a masterful piece of modernist, ecclesiastical architecture by a former University of Toronto professor: “This was their new community centre,” Ms. Roiser says of her parents’ generation (her father did electrical work on the church). “So everybody chipped in: women were all sewing curtains … we had Scouts there and Guides, and everything was at the church.”
With the recent sale and impending demolition of Estonian House at 958 Broadview Ave. (rear addition to the house by Michael Bach, front addition by Guido E. Laikve), there will be fewer and fewer places to mark the presence of the Estonian diaspora. And the Estonians that came to Toronto, it should be noted, contained many architects and designers (Uno Prii, Elmar Tampold, Henno Sillaste and Ants Elken, who did an addition to St. Peter’s) that helped transform the city from stuffy and stiff-upper-lipped to loose, accepting, and even swinging.
Which is why the wrecker’s ball must not be allowed to swing here.
The way soft light washes the altar from almost-hidden, twin skylights that run the length of the winged gable roof is pure architectural magic.Tiiu Roiser/Tiiu Roiser