If my father were alive today, he would be preparing to have a sit-in to stop demolition of the historic Coteau Street East bridge.
And prior to his sit-in he would have appeared before city council to plead to have the bridge retained as at least a pedestrian and cycling path into Wakamow Valley. His pleas would not have been as polite as those expressed by other citizens who asked council to think a second time about demolishing the structure.
He would have been disturbed at council’s decision to go ahead with demolition based on engineering reports, some of which had gathered dust on a city shelf for several years and appeared to be dusted off again during budget discussions, with little communication to the citizens regularly using the bridge.
For 20-plus years my parents lived at 210 and 214 Coteau St. E., with the bridge at the end of that block. There was continuous vehicular traffic across the bridge, merging with little problem with walkers, cyclists and parents with baby strollers out for an afternoon or evening stroll to admire the beauty of the park.
On spring, summer and autumn days, two or three older gentlemen living on that block would gather at the bridge, coffee mugs in hand, to discuss world topics of interest and provide solutions in those 20 or so minutes spent together.
During the growing season, Dad would leave the apartment with an ice cream bucket in hand, to look first for Saskatoon berries and later in the year, for chokecherries. He knew which bushes produced the most and on a regular basis and he tried to keep that information to himself, or at least to get there before other interlopers discovered his favourite spot.
Before we investigated further, we, his family, had no idea that his berry picking involved climbing down the embankment and clinging to a sapling with one hand while picking with the other. When questioned about the safety of his adventure, he would grin and say something to the effect: “I haven’t fallen yet.”
The train tracks in proximity to his climb down and up were of no apparent concern, possibly because of lack of use by any heavy rail traffic on those tracks. Dad said he could always jump into a boxcar for a free ride if he got too close to the tracks.
After attending a few air shows in person, he decided the crowds on the tarmac and on the road leading to the show were too congested for his Prairie soul. And thus, with stool in one hand and a lunch bucket in the other, he ventured to the bridge, found a safe spot and spent an afternoon watching the sky and the aerobatic displays of the Snowbirds and other fast-travelling performers. On a clear day he could see forever.
His affinity for the Coteau Street East bridge is not an isolated acknowledgement of the pleasure that bridge has provided over the years. Doug Reichel, representing citizens wanting to keep their bridge, was eloquent in his heart-felt presentation, describing the bridge as a connection from the past, extending into the present for all the citizens who have used and still use the bridge.
Councillors supported the reports of engineers with bridge expertise and stood by their budget-talk decision to demolish the bridge, with varying cost figures arising from different reports. A time-line was not defined, although with CN Rail agreeing to pay half the cost, the city might move at a more rapid pace to ensure the cheque will be in the bank.
Meanwhile, my dad is likely muttering about the decision and shaking his head in disbelief. And the citizens on earth who support the bridge are definitely feeling deflated in the knowledge that the bridge, built in 1913, is but one more piece of the city’s history to be tossed aside.
Joyce Walter can be reached at ronjoy@sasktel.net
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.
