Part 3: The History of the Old Post Office Collapse & Rebuild

The Old Post Office & Customs House today.

By the end of 1995, the all-volunteer citizens committee formed to save Grosvenor Hall was disbanded. The Village Commission decided to try a different route to restoration and issued a call for proposals from private developers to take over ownership of the historic landmark to renovate and save it. Two local businessmen responded.

About 60 people attended the public meeting at the Baddeck Community Centre in mid-March 1996, to hear the proposed plans of John Langley and Jim Morrow. Both had businesses in Baddeck. Both wanted to see the building saved. Morrow’s would see the village retain ownership. But Langley’s proposal would see ownership of the building transferred to him for $1.

Residents were divided. It had always been a public building. What would it mean to have private interests owning the once public building? Would it be maintained? How could the public ensure a new agreement would not lead to the demise of the historic building? The Village Commission announced a public meeting for April 29^th to decide.

The Gatehouse, what remains of the Moxham's Castle property, Sydney, N.S.

That month also marked the thirtieth anniversary of the loss of Moxham Castle in Sydney. The castle was originally built in Ohio in 1890. A relocating steel plant executive had the castle dismantled and moved stone by stone to a property on Kings Road in Sydney in 1898.  By the 1950’s, it had been abandoned and fallen into ruin. On the night of April 25, 1966, it was burned, leading to its demolition. It was the loss of this important landmark that inspired the creation of the Old Sydney Society.

I learned of the castle as a child. My mother had grown up not far from there. As we travelled along Kings Road in our 1974 Chevy station wagon, she would point out the Moxham Gatehouse, the only part of the castle that remained, still standing guard in front of the modern apartment tower Cabot House. With my nose pressed against the glass of the car window, I’d listen keenly as she’d recall the ancient time when there was a castle in Sydney.

It was a grey day in Baddeck on the morning of April 15, 1996. The sky was grey, the snow on the ground was grey, the heavy water-laden snowflakes that swirled in the winds then smacked the ground were grey. The mood would soon match. At 9:52 am, Grosvenor Hall stopped resisting, stopped trying to hold it all together and fell.  Stones, placed so long ago, tumbled from the top floor, down to the ground.

The east wall, facing the Bell Buoy Restaurant, crumbled, taking with it much of the south wall that faced the waterfront. The plastic cocooning was flapping wildly, still attached at random places and the rubble of stone was a story high.

The side facing Jones Street and the front of the building looked pretty much as it had before the collapse. Thank God Charlie was still there! But the view, moving from the unscathed front to the east side, where the interior was fully on display in the raging wind, like some life-sized dollhouse, made the entire scene feel all the more like a bad dream.

It was a heart-breaking sight. We had failed.  

It’s future, now perilous. The Village of Baddeck said the collapse didn’t change their situation – they had no money to restore it when it was a free-standing structure, and they had no money now that half the walls were gone. What the collapse did, they said, was make it more dangerous to the public. An engineer's report issued soon after the collapse stated that the structure is safe for the moment, but it could not be left as is. The building inspector agreed and told the Village Commissioners a decision on the building’s fate must be made by Tuesday April 30. If no immediate plan was in place by then, it would be demolished.

The village decided to go ahead with the previously scheduled April 29 meeting - which at its heart, was to discuss the future of the building.

Public meetings about sewers and water rates are notorious for their absurdly low attendance. So, I think everyone was surprised when the community centre was already jam-packed well before the scheduled 7 p.m. start time.  There were not enough chairs for everyone, so people leaned against the back and side walls. It seemed as if everyone in town was here.

The village repeated what had been their position since the beginning. They did not have the means to restore the building.

Residents lined up at two microphones to ask questions, but the answers were always the same. After an hour, the mood was low.

The village was detailing some of the additional costs of the collapse – a 24-hour security presence must be on site until there are either contractors to restore it or it is demolished.

One life-long resident approached the microphone.

‘What if, we set up a volunteer security force?’

The crowd erupted.

‘Yes!’ ‘Good idea’ ‘I’ll volunteer for that’ ‘Me too!’ various voices rang out from the crowd.

The atmosphere in the community centre shifted.

A motion was made to have the deed to Grosvenor Hall passed back to the Library Board so it could be restored.

It was time to vote.

Everyone knew that a ‘yes’ gave the building one more chance; ‘no’ was the end.

I don’t recall how long the vote took. But I remember looking around at all people, trying to read their faces. Did I dare hope?

The commissioners announced a last call for votes. The crowd quieted as the scrutineers left the room and we settled in for a wait. But after just a few minutes, they returned. The crowd silenced.

“We didn’t count the YESES,” said a scrutineer into the microphone, “The pile was too high. Instead, we counted the no votes. There were four.”

By the end of the meeting, over $10,000 had been spontaneously pledged towards the restoration effort and a long list of volunteers were stepping up to help.

After the glow of the successful meeting, reality hit. The Library Society had just taken on the daunting task of assuming the liability for a condemned stone building that only had two and a half standing walls and a demolition order that could come into effect within days. The society was not in the business of restoring century-old buildings or planning $150,000 fundraising campaigns, but there was no time to think of any of that now.

Nancy Langley was the president of the Baddeck Library Society. She was the leader we needed at that very moment. She loved Baddeck history, she knew how to inspire people and was undeterred by the many challenges at hand. She brought the community together to restore the historic landmark.

In the days following the collapse, the phone lines in Baddeck were constantly a-buzz. That’s how I found myself sitting with other residents at the Baddeck Public Library. None of us were members of the Library Society, but after a single phone call with Nancy, we showed up to help in whatever way we could.  We met daily and every day, there were more people around the table.  This Ad Hoc Committee (as we came to be known) was chaired by Nancy and organized such matters as coordinating volunteers and potential fundraisers, finding a stone mason and labourers, navigating the numerous bureaucracies (what was needed to be done to remove any demolition orders? What permits were needed to get to work?  How many workers were required? Was there a program to help hire workers?) as well as planning ways to keep everyone informed.

At 1 p.m. on Wednesday May 8 – just nine days after the decisive meeting – the Baddeck Public Library accepted the deed to the now renamed Old Post Office. With the transfer of ownership, the 24-hour security watch paid for by the Village was gone. But the all-volunteer security force was mustering. At 4 pm, Lloyd Stone, the first to stand watch, arrived. As more people signed on, the eight-hour shifts could now be broken into four-hour stints. Some people signed up for a single weekend shift, others volunteered numerous times over the next 15 days. From May 8 through until May 23 - for 348 continuous hours - there was a volunteer security person on site.  Forty-one people from Baddeck and beyond, stood guard with Charlie to keep the Old Post Office safe and secure.

At a May 13 public meeting to update residents, Chair of the Baddeck Library Society Nancy Langley once again asked for volunteers.  Once again, society secretary Donnie MacAulay was inundated with names.

A week and a day later, at 8 a.m. on May 21 the newly hired contractor arrived to shore up the floors and construct a security fence around the entire site. Two days later, at 4 p.m., Ron Lauzon, the last security force volunteer, went home.

It had been quite a month. The site was secure. Much work lay ahead. And we still needed to fundraise at least $150,000.

Next week: A European-trained stone mason signs on and the clock ticks (in a good way!).