Hamilton’s Stelco tower became ‘a kind of lighthouse’ for writer

Open this photo in gallery:

Those of us who consider ourselves architecture aficionados can talk up our favourite buildings all night long. And, if pressed, even the non-aficionados that we corner at cocktail parties can name at least one favourite. But it takes a special subsection of aficionado to consider certain buildings as friends.

Former landscape architect and current photographer/writer Sara Heinonen considers Hamilton’s Stelco Tower a very good friend indeed.

Make no mistake, however: Ms. Heinonen is not a sad sack unable to form human relationships. In fact, she’s a joyful, funny, creative woman who has wonderful children, great friends, an ex-husband, and an architect-father, Stanley, who was responsible for some very good Modernism indeed … and that’s just to name a few in her cherished circle.

But an interesting thing happened when a life change brought the fifty-something from her native Toronto to Hamilton. As she writes in her limited-run publication, Stelco Tower: A Love Story, once she “settled in and began to explore,” the 25-storey building “became a kind of lighthouse, both geographically and emotionally.

“By observing and photographing the building – in effect, developing a relationship with it – I began to find my footing.”

Open this photo in gallery:

And as her relationship blossomed and the photograph-count grew, she decided to share the news of her new flame on her Instagram account, and even IRL (in real life) at dinner parties or arts and architecture events. Often, the reaction was bewilderment – ”That old thing?” – which, sadly, wasn’t surprising. After all, do native Torontonians notice the CN Tower? Do Calgarians notice the Calgary Tower?

And that’s when more things happened. Ms. Heinonen realized the building’s 50th anniversary was coming up – although the Jackson Square redevelopment was completed and opened in 1972, Stelco Tower didn’t open until a year later – which meant that some sort of commemoration might be in order. She also contacted the building’s architect, Montreal-based Arthur C.F. Lau, who was happy to hear from her, invited her to Montreal, and then sent her archival material on the steel-clad building (a Stelco product called Stelcoloy, designed to rust while protecting its structural properties).

“He was very pragmatic about [the building] and said that he approaches things from a more technical point of view,” remembers Ms. Heinonen of the 87-year-old, who also worked, with six others, on the master plan and construction of Expo 67. “He said he went to Pittsburgh to do research on [another] steel building, and he said he listened to the constraints of the developer.”

Despite Mr. Lau’s pragmatism, his building, which eliminated interior columns for maximum tenant flexibility, is a delightful example of late-modernism: it is muscular without being steroidal; there is crisp tailoring at the corners; horizontal ridges between banks of windows provide interesting shadow-play; the bronzy windows recall Mies van der Rohe’s work; and it’s not so tall as to be overwhelming.

Open this photo in gallery:

“You can look up and feel a sense of awe but it’s kind of small,” agrees Ms. Heinonen. “It’s like Hamilton is compared to Toronto. … So when you come here, it’s like, ‘Yeah, I’m in a city; I’ve got all the amenities I need for the city, but it’s like a mini city.’ … It reminds me of Toronto in the seventies.”

But, with a number of cranes in the sky and thousands of ex-Torontonians calling “The Hammer” home, that feeling may soon disappear. As we stand two storeys above the sidewalk on the Lloyd D. Jackson Square podium, Ms. Heinonen can swivel on her heel to perform an architectural roll call with her index finger: “Right here is McMaster residence, that’s going to be two towers, and it’s [by] Diamond Schmitt; the one you can see that’s finished is Marquee Residence, that’s a condo and it took No. 2 place [in height] from Stelco Tower; and then this one is Graziani and Corazza [75 James Condos].”

Timely, then, that Ms. Heinonen has gathered 50 photographs of the Stelco building in her book. Not only do they showcase the structure up close and under different lighting conditions, but also from blocks and blocks away, where Hamilton’s jumble-y residential streets or quirky retail shops are the foreground stars. Not only did these wanderings embolden the photographer to learn more about her new home – she felt reassured that “more often than not, there was a clear sightline to my personal lighthouse” – the photo essay will preserve first impressions of her architectural friend and how it stood stalwart against the changing skyline.

I can relate. While I haven’t done a photographic study of Toronto City Hall (by Finnish architect Viljo Revell), I collect items, such as souvenir plates, that have its image. I also have one of the bronze medals that was struck to commemorate its opening in 1965, and a bizarre 1977 Italian movie poster featuring a Yeti with City Hall. When I lived in Montreal in the 1990s and would return home to visit, I’d always make sure to have lunch with my archi-pal (I’d order street meat from a truck and sit on a bench) before hitting the highway. In 2013, I got Mr. Revell’s building tattooed on my forearm.

Of course, with ambient technology and artificial intelligence, we may form actual, interactive relationships with our favourite buildings in the very near future. Let’s just hope our architecture likes us as much as we like it.

Sara Heinonen is hosting a book launch for Stelco Tower A Love Story on April 29 from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. at Rooney’s café and photo bookstore, 724 Main St. E., Hamilton. There will also be a ‘zine about Stelco Tower available.