The ruin where the St. Ann church, the community centre of Griffintown, once stood.
Horse-drawn carriages can still be seen coming and going from the stables just down the street from the St. Ann nursery, one of the only remaining original buildings.
A broken slate remains at the ruin of the St. Ann church.
The Dow Brewery, the starting point for the Sounding Griffintown sound-walk.I couldn't have chosen a better day to go down to Griffentown and listen to Lisa Gaisor's audio piece. The sky was clear and the temperature was easily above ten degrees – a beautiful day for early March in Montreal. As someone who has only recently moved to Montreal, I especially appreciated the opportunity to get to know a part of the city, which I had not yet even visited, with such intimacy. I packed my camera in hopes of finding some interesting urban decay or old architecture, anything that might make an interesting subject to juxtapose on Montreal's skyline. I do have to say that as school assignments go, this one was one of the most pleasant I have ever worked on. I chose to go by myself as I felt it would be easier to become immersed in what I was listening to, although part of the way through my walk I ran into a group of classmates who, like me, were taking advantage of the weather and the fact that we all had the afternoon off.
I think that I would be with a lot of my classmates when I say that my favourite part of the sound walk was the story of the plane crash at the corner of Shannon and Ottawa streets. Upon further research, I discovered that fifteen people had died in that incident right where I was standing, sixty-six years ago. No evidence remains, oddly enough, not so much as a memorial, that I could see. What exists in that spot now are small, two and three story offices and wearhouses.
I was surprised again, walking up to 1224 Ottawa street to find an active stable which, despite the industrial zoning laws, as stood as a haven from the re-development of the area all around it. I was lucky enough to spot a passing horse and carriage coming down the street next to the St. Ann nursery, one of the only remaining original buildings in the area, before slowly rattling into the driveway of the stables. After some deliberation, I thought it wouldn't be any harm to venture in and see if someone was around to talk to, but turned back when I didn't find anyone immediately in the driveway. City people are not always as friendly to strangers who wander onto their property as country people usually are. That driveway was one of the only places in the area that would still sound (and smell) as it did in the early days of Griffintown, a steady reminder of the 20th century which is receding further into the past all the time.
Much of the soundscape of Griffintown will by now have changed drastically. What would at one time have been a community radiant with the sounds of life – children playing, church bells ringing, people interacting in all ways, the good and the bad, - has now been reduced to a much blander, dull industrial sort of feel. There are a few exceptions however, as I noticed walking through the area. Firetruck sirens can still be heard from the No. 5 fire station. The horses still occupy a space in Griffintown. The vehicles which transport the goods of contemporary society, the planes, trains and trucks, still pass through and over Griffintown. Some sounds will likely be common for many years to come, but unfortunately, the sounds which breath life into the space, making it a community, have left, and may only exist there now in Lisa Gaisor's audio piece.
Sounding Griffintown, as a historical document is a great piece. If there is that much history in that one, ten or so square block area of the city, it made me wonder just how many rich stories the rest of the city holds that the common individual knows nothing about. As pleasant of an experience walking through Griffintown on a sunny day was, one cannot escape the feelings of melancholy created by the modern space, devoid of the liviness which was once commonplace. Perhaps the most disappointing part of the walk comes at the end, to find the foundation of the St. Ann church is all that remains of what was the hub of the community. I couldn't understand why it was opted to tear down such a beautiful building. What a disservice to the history of that area! Griffintown stands out in my mind as one of the many victims of a cultural trend of modern urban society. The trend where community relations become less and less intimate as more people flood into the cities to become anonymous cogs in the wheel, where everyone's primary concern is their self. Where neighbours don't know neighbours. Where there is no sense of identity or pride in where you live. Griffintown, the foundation of its church and the few remaining buildings in the area stand as monuments to an era past.
