Some Beach History From the Spec.

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The Beach Strip
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Dec. 4, 12:08 EDT
Highways isolate, not connect, city
'In 1820, getting into Hamilton was a challenge. In 1930, avoiding coming into the city was impossible. Today, ignoring Hamilton is altogether too simple.'
Bill Manson
The Hamilton Spectator



It appears that debate over the building of the Red Hill Creek Expressway has not died with the election as most proponents had hoped. Perhaps it is time to put this project into another perspective -- that of Hamilton's transportation history.

In real estate, they say location is everything. We occupy a strategic place at the head of Lake Ontario. George Hamilton knew this when, in 1816, he drew up his plan for a town. However this site was isolated by geography. A sandbar separated the bay from the lake making it useless as a harbour, a steep escarpment encircled us, and two ravines -- Chedoke and Red Hill -- cut us off from the rest of the region.

It was not until 1826 with the opening of the Burlington Canal that Port Hamilton blossomed as a maritime centre which ferried goods and passengers around the lake. The subsequent arrival of railways -- the Great Western in 1856, the Hamilton and Northwestern in 1873 and the TH&B in 1895 -- made us the hub of a network stretching from New York to Michigan and Lake Erie to Georgian Bay.

These rail and water infrastructures allowed us to import raw materials and to export manufactured products, and brought immigrants to fire our factories. To provide affordable transit for this workforce, Hamilton built incline, radial, and street railway systems and included our urban neighbourhoods, Dundas, Brantford, Oakville, and Beamsville.

Despite the growth of Hamilton as a rail, maritime, and industrial centre, the bay and escarpment seriously impeded road travel. The city grew around several aboriginal trails, but they were unsuitable for carrying goods, livestock, or travellers. In 1860 there were still very few roads out of town and by 1872 it was almost impossible to enter or leave Hamilton without paying tolls to companies that we hired to build and maintain our roads and bridges. It was not until the 1890s that governments began assuming responsibility for road infrastructures.

The very first "horseless carriage" in all of Canada took to Hamilton's streets in 1898, and five years later the very first automobile association was established here to "protect the autoist from horse-drawn carriages."

Hamiltonians' love of the automobile was quickly consummated, despite rising financial costs, increasing noise and pollution, and the enormous space needed to support traffic. Between 1926 and 1930, 500 accidents and 30 deaths were recorded on our downtown streets. As congestion grew, a ban on rush-hour stopping was imposed, and in 1956 to move traffic more quickly one-way streets were introduced. Today, despite these efforts, congestion and parking problems persist.

In the 1920s, the increasing popularity of motoring prompted the construction of the King's Highways. Hamilton lay at the centre of a road network which connected Georgian Bay to Lake Erie, and Windsor to Niagara and Toronto -- and beyond. Major highways like numbers 2, 6 and 8 passed through our downtown, and by 1935, along with our railroads, street railways, inclines, radials, and waterways, the highways brought visitors, tourists, businessmen, and shoppers to our core. We had it all then -- thriving commercial and industrial enterprises supported by road, rail and maritime systems to rival any on the continent. We had taken advantage of location and we had conquered geography.

However, events were conspiring to rob Hamilton of its industrial and transportation dominance. The Beach Strip was paved to link Burlington and Toronto with Stoney Creek and Niagara. This encouraged travellers, tourists, and businessmen -- and their dollars -- to bypass our downtown. In 1934, construction of the Queen Elizabeth Way provided a shorter, faster route between Toronto and Niagara -- again bypassing our core. The Burlington Canal continued to create tie-ups on the QEW, until the erection of the first Skyway Bridge in 1958 reinforced the fact that Hamilton was no longer a highway hub. The building of the Chedoke Expressway and the Lincoln Alexander Parkway emphasized that fact.

After the Second World War, as motor transport gained popularity, rail and marine passenger transport declined. We began siphoning resources from our public rail infrastructures to improve roads, cuts and bridges. Without adequate public transport, without visitors, without people stopping to shop, our core suffered. Automobiles also enabled us to leave our congested core for the suburbs with cleaner air, open roads, shopping malls -- and free parking. The health of our core was further jeopardized as the city diverted our dwindling resources to build more roads and to service our expanding suburbs.

The rest is history. Geography, our dependence on the automobile, poor urban planning, and our inability to cope with global economic forces conspired to decimate our industrial and transportation heritage. Attempts over the past 50 years to revitalize Hamilton through urban redevelopment, road-building, and city beautification schemes have failed to address two significant causes of our decline -- the omnipresent challenge of our local geography and our emphasis on the development of our suburbs and the road infrastructures to support them.

Historically, the Red Hill Creek Expressway provides the last link in a road system to isolate our old city. Two hundred years ago, the site of our city was isolated by the escarpment, the Beach Strip, and the Red Hill and Chedoke ravines. Now the core is isolated by the Linc, the Skyway, the 403 , and the Red Hill expressway. Ironic! Inside these new barriers, we decay inexorably. Outside them, we sprawl relentlessly. Hamilton's transportation story provides lessons to help facilitate economic recovery.

Economically, we cannot support an ever-expanding road system. Our geography simply will not permit it without compromising our core. At the same time we do have a strategic location at the centre of major road corridors. If we persist in building ring roads to allow traffic to avoid the city, we can at least impose tolls on traffic that is doing so. We also stand at the centre of a major passenger rail network and can no longer allow ourselves to be bypassed.

Our public transportation system can again become efficient, affordable and environmentally-friendly in order to alleviate traffic congestion, reconnect neighbourhoods, link our waterfront and port with our downtown and airport, and to reclaim streets for residential, commercial, and recreational purposes. We can redirect our resources from suburban sprawl into the (re)development of our serviced brownfields and built heritage sites. This will attract business, industry and residential development.

Finally, our local geography -- which will always challenge road transport -- provides outstanding natural beauty. Cootes' Paradise and the bay which are being reclaimed, the RBG and our parks, our escarpment with its waterfalls and scenic outlooks, and our walking and biking trails are all resources which will attract people to Hamilton.

In 1820, getting into Hamilton was a challenge. In 1930, avoiding coming into the city was impossible. Today, ignoring Hamilton is altogether too simple. The "right" transportation made us what we were. The "wrong" transportation makes us what we are. These lessons from our transportation past can guide us in becoming a healthy community again.

Bill Manson is a retired educator, local historian, and author of heritage books including Getting Around Hamilton and Footsteps in Time.



Hamilton Spectator File Photo
The erection of the first Skyway Bridge in 1958 reinforced the fact that Hamilton was no longer a highway hub.
 
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