For 15 years in the 1980s and '90s, pedestrians navigating the underpass at Rideau Street and Colonel By Drive were met by Terry Fox. Sculptor John Hooper's likeness of the marathoner of hope stood at the southwest corner of the intersection, a reminder of perseverance at what was supposed to be one of the grand entrances to Canada's capital. The statue was moved in 1998 to Wellington Street across from Parliament Hill and, more recently, to Sparks Street. But a marathon of hope of a different kind still exists at the original corner — the hope that the city, the NCC and Public Services and Procurement Canada will finally muster the political will to correct one of the city's oldest urban design failures.
A Grim Subterranean Conduit
One can hardly argue with the decision to give Terry Fox a more prominent home. Since its construction in the early 1980s as part of the Rideau Area Project that included the Rideau Centre and Congress Centre, the underpass has been a frustrating eyesore and public safety concern. Everyone acknowledges the problem, but no one has taken ownership.
Today, as it has been for decades, it remains a grim, uninviting subterranean conduit decorated with “No Loitering – Walk Through Only” warning signs, staircases in need of repair, a locked iron fence to discourage people from sleeping there, another sign warning of electronic security monitoring, and the lingering smell of damp concrete. Many pedestrians go out of their way to avoid it, either by crossing to the other side of Rideau Street altogether, or taking their chances on the adjacent street-level bicycle lane.
Decades of Criticism
When the former Union Station was being considered as the future home of Canada's Sports Hall of Fame, the area was described as a “pedestrian no-man's land.” Architect George Baird famously called it “a cranky intersection.” In 1996, when Terry Fox still kept a bronze-eyed vigil over the corner, Citizen columnist Shelley Page called the area an “urban armpit.” “This,” she wrote, “is no place for a hero.” Thirty years later, it still isn't. But it could use one.
The problem isn't just that the underpass has become shabby. It's that it was designed around the movement of automobiles rather than the comfort and safety of pedestrians. “It's a design problem, for sure,” says Steve Willis, a senior principal and planning consultant at the engineering consulting firm Stantec. Willis should know. Interspersed throughout his career at Stantec, Willis worked for the City of Ottawa as general manager of planning, infrastructure and economic development, and for the NCC as executive director of capital planning.
Accessibility and Safety Concerns
“When you look at something that's at the front door of our city, when you think about curb appeal, I think everybody walks by and shakes their head and says ‘This could be better,'” he says. “There are accessibility problems — that staircase is not universally accessible and is also difficult to maintain in winter. Pedestrians don't know where to walk — they don't know where to go.”
If you're looking for a place in Ottawa that visitors might tell their friends about when they return home, this could be high on the list, but for all the wrong reasons. The underpass remains a symbol of failed urban planning, where pedestrian needs were sacrificed for vehicular throughput. The city, the National Capital Commission, and Public Services and Procurement Canada have yet to agree on a plan to reconfigure the intersection, leaving pedestrians to contend with a gloomy tunnel that has long outlived its purpose.
