Long Road Out of Saskatoon

The other night, I decided I’d treat myself and the woman of my world to a golden flake of our past, by taking $300 out of my wallet and lighting it on fire.

Not literally, of course—or at least not intentionally. No legal tender becomes tinder in the Copeland household; that’s far too similar to touching a flame to entire days of your life.

No, the money involved was spent on concert tickets. Not just any concert tickets, mind you, but tickets for none other but The Eagles, creators of the soundtrack of my youth. I’d purchased them online from Ticketmaster (motto: “We’ll make youse a deal youse can’t afford”). I hooked them three minutes after they went on sale, paying the afore-mentioned premium for medium-priced seats high in the bleachers. I’m not sure where the lowest-cost seats were, but I’m thinking drive-in speakers in the parking lot.

It would be a magical night, nonetheless. The music of the Eagles had spoke to both Maya and myself, years before our lives ever touched. I was that “Desperado” when she found me. She was a “Victim of Love”.

So off we drove to Market Mall, the nearest Park and Ride. The wind chill was -30°C as we waited for the bus, but I had no intention of dealing with the 90+ minutes of car stampede that would ensue after the concert.

We arrived in good order. We took our seats. The lights dimmed, and the crowd went suitably wild as the purple silhouettes of Glenn Frey, Don Henley, Joe Walsh, and Timothy B. Schmit morphed onto the darkened stage. I have to admit, I was somewhat jazzed myself. Soon I’d be singing along to “Lyin’ Eyes”, having carefully prepared myself by memorizing every single word 31 years ago. I only hoped the animated conversation going on behind us would abate.

Then the owners of the two seats next to us arrived. 

Is there, anywhere in the known universe, any one human person as charming, as sophisticated, as witty, as knowledgeable in the ways of the world, as talented, wise and utterly steeped in confidence, as masterful, warm, generous, and forgiving, as selfless, as educated, as cool, hip and chic, as possessive of the kind of quiet, noble leadership we all look for in our heroes...in short, as wondrously, undeniably sophisticated, as a 20-year-old Saskatonian with six beers in his belly?

No, I didn’t think so either.

I’ve been exploring of late a new philosophy, a sort of eight-fold path to kindness and contentment with the world. Anyone who’s explored the same system of belief already knows what I’m talking about. I won't get into it here, because I’m still no good at it, and I’m far from a good example. But I’m working on it.

So I tried to block out the antics of the pair beside me. The music, after all was good and loud, nearly loud enough to drown out the drunken partying going on right up against my shoulder. I focussed desperately hard on the deep pool of talent gracing the stage. I lost my concentration, and found it, and lost it again. Maya, all too aware of my inner battle, glanced at me anxiously.

But I wasn’t the first to snap.

Apparently the same inner battle was going on in the minds of the 30-something couple in front of us. Exactly as the first notes of “Lyin’ Eyes” hit the air, the male half of this couple turned around and grabbed the 20-year-old beside me by the neck.

The battle was on...and stayed on, non-stop, for the remainder of the show.

I know, I know... by their very nature, rock concerts are supposed to be a bit wild. Rock, after all, was born of rebellion, and letting loose at concerts is an age-old rite of passage. Everyone has the right to celebrate differently. I know all this, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard to focus on the music when there’s beer and fists flying beside you.

I won’t get into the number of classic rock anthems that slid by, barely noticed, as I gritted my teeth and tried to focus. Suffice to say, by the end of the show, the row in front of us was empty. And the twenty-year-olds at my side—they’d taken the time to tell me their ages—cursed and roared and partied on. They did this, I might add, in clothing adorned with logos of a provincial Crown corporation. They hadn’t even bought their tickets, they proudly informed us. They’d been given them by their parents.

Ah. Suddenly it all made sense.

We were fortunately not far from the main entrance, and as the last notes died, we shot out of there like cub scouts out of Neverland Ranch. The wind chill was now into the -40s C, but at least the buses awaited...or did they? Transportation at previous concerts had been a calamity; the Saskatoon Transit System promised things would be better.

They weren’t.

A terrifying hour later—during which Maya tried to help enlarge the one-foot hole in the frost the driver was valiantly trying to peer through—we arrived at Market Mall. The last thing we heard was the radio crackling: “We’ve got hundreds of people freezing out here and all kinds of empty buses. Should we put the people on the buses?”

Doh! Or maybe, Duh?

In the days that followed, a trio of Saskatoon Star-Phoenix columnists offered theories and opinions. In regard to people talking during the concert, Les Macpherson said, “This I blame more on the sound setup than on inconsiderate concert patrons. If you can hear someone talking in the audience during a rock concert, the music isn’t loud enough.” He may have a point. He went on to say, “A completely positive concert-going experience is perhaps too much to expect. If we can’t improve the experience, we could cut back on the attendant bellyaching.” Fair enough. Next time, Les can sit next to the drunken SaskTel yuppie larvae.

Another SP staffer, Cam Fuller, put forward the theory of decreasing attention span. This could also be part of the problem, the fruit of a generation raised to think watching epic movies on cell phones is a good idea. There’s a surreal aura about arena concerts after all; the band performing often seems the size of a postage stamp, not all that different from what you’d see on an iPod. Is it real, or is it on a flashdrive? In the digital frontier, the line between reality and otherwise is blurring like the Joker’s makeup in a bad mpeg.

Finally, columnist Sarath Peiris weighed in. In his opinion, what’s important for some concert goers is “their presence at the event, not the event itself.” Others at the concert “simply become the supporting cast whose needs can be dismissed without a second thought.”

A friend of mine, who tends to view our fair city with a somewhat darker cast, offers the following: “Saskatoon may not be ready for these kinds of events. As a populace, we’re more familiar with swilling beer while watching local bands at the local pub then seeing world-class-anything live. The bus thing is just another symptom...how many times now have they tried, and utterly failed? We haven’t the infrastructure to put on shows like this. We haven’t the experience to know how to appreciate these events when they happen.”

I’m not certain I agree, at least not entirely. If nothing else, we’ve proven we have the demand. The Rolling Stones put on a second show when they rolled into Regina — tens of thousands at each. The Eagles put on a third, something they didn’t even do for many major centres in the States. And we’ve had other names hit Saskatoon, often to return: Cher, Elton John, Leonard Cohen, Neil Young...

Could the problem just be society? Our increasingly selfish attitudes toward one another? The thought chills, but demands attention.

One final thought from me: The concert, what I experienced of it, was magnificent. The Eagles brought along a great deal of talent and polish...I did not hear a complaint about the performance from anyone. They well deserved our attention and respect. If they're coming to your town—and you are prone to better luck with concerts than us—do yourself a nice, and go see them.

That said...I recently enjoyed another concert where people cheered and grooved to the music, where my view was unobstructed, and where the sound was utterly perfect. It was an Eric Clapton charity concert, and he came with friends: Johnny Winter, Willie Nelson, Jeff Beck, Robbie Robertson, Sheryl Crow and others. It was amazing, beautiful...and I can watch it again and again.

It was a DVD.

Review: Future Hype: The Myths of Technology Change, by Bob Seidensticker

First of all, this is not the kind of book I normally read.

The non-fiction I normally devour promotes technology as a way of life. The volumes I crack open paint pictures of digital Nirvana, its circuits woven through our lives until they become invisible ingredients of the very fabric. The tech-tomes I love are ones which tell me that all problems known to mankind can be solved with technology.

Well, not quite…but I am obviously a techie. Anyone who’s expressed the goal of making his house a self-monitoring, intelligent entity—more on that some other day—has got to be a fan of tech. So it was a bit unusual for me to pick up a book that proclaims the e-Emperor to be wearing no clothes. It might be because I’ve noticed lately that too much of my time is spent configuring things. I’m just old enough to remember when the world was analogue…things seemed simpler then as opposed to now. What’s happening to our digital utopia? I decided to get another point of view.

The author of the book, Bob Seidensticker, wants to talk to us about the times we’re living in—these times of rapid-fire change unlike any that has ever been in the history of man. And what he wants us to know about all this change, this acceleration, this what-on-earth-will-they-invent-tomorrow blur we live in is simply this:

It’s all a bunch of hype.

The book is intelligently presented, first with examples of technologies developed in centuries past. It weighs the importance of each, and comes up with surprising answers. Not everything we’ve done in the past generation or two was really all that important in comparison. And not every technology of millennia past pales in comparison to those of today.

The book is peppered with quotes worth remembering, from tech and political leaders present and past: “We are drowning in information and starved for knowledge.” “I have seen the future, and it’s still in the future.” “The press, the machine, the railway, the telegraph are premises whose thousand-year conclusion no one has yet dared to draw.” My personal favourite: “For a list of all the ways technology has failed to improve the quality of life, please press three.”

Seidensticker never seems to be content to state an opinion without backing it up with relevant facts. For example, he points out how “the next big thing” is usually just a technology that has temporarily received society’s spotlight…until the next big thing after that comes along. Thus, the age of cathedral building…of printing…of steam…of nuclear power…the space age…the information age…nanotechnology…and onward.

The book is divided into two main parts, the first dealing with the ways we see technology incorrectly. The second part discusses how “the more things change, well…”

The author wisely makes no attempt to get us to disrespect technology. What he does do is to leave us with a healthy set of guidelines for interpreting change correctly. What signs are there that the “next big thing” really will be? Is it really going to change humanity in the way that the printing press did? Or will it wind up as a footnote in the path of mankind’s development?

In all, a fascinating book, one guaranteed to help us keep it all in perspective.

Changes: 2nd Avenue Lofts

I promised to update the blog from time to time with some of the good things happening around town. I’ll begin with the obvious ones, before moving on to areas that even current residents might not have noticed. On the way, I’ve already discovered tidbits of history I never knew. Apparently there was a city here before there was a city.

You’ll be forgiven if you don’t recognize the older building pictured on the left. It is, or was, the five-storey J.F. Cairns Ltd. Department store, opened in 1913 and purchased by the Hudson Bay Company in 1922. Its five storeys contained just over 8300 square metres of space (90,000 square feet). It stood on the northwest corner of 2nd Avenue and 23rd Street.

The building, which included a grocery store, served Saskatoon until 1958, when the Bay announced its replacement. The store was torn down that year, and reopened its new digs on the same location in 1960. Though only three storeys tall at first, the new store boasted 14,500 square metres (157,000 square feet) of retail space. The building was constructed with expansion in mind, as an additional two floors could be added in the future.

The fourth floor was added soon enough, in 1966, and a skywalk built to the Bay’s six-level parkade across 2nd Avenue. A vast area below this parkade served as the Bay’s shipping and receiving area. Eventually, the Safeway store abutting its northern edge was demolished, and the Bayside Centre shopping mall built. The Hudson Bay Company continued in this location until the turn of the century, when they moved to the old Eaton’s location in Midtown Plaza.

For more than half a decade, the building—apparently built like a brick—stood empty and forlorn. Ideas were passed, of course: the library could move there, for example. Somehow, none of it fleshed out. The skywalk was torn down and the parkade bit the dust, to be replaced with a parking lot. Talk began circulating of doing the same to the store. The Bayside mall, once a home to higher-end retail outlets, soon floundered and sunk. For a time, that became home to Heinze Career Institute, then to two separate furniture stores.

Then along came a developer with the pie-in-the-sky idea of turning the Bay building into condos. No doubt many a citizen secretly rolled their eyes at the thought; there’s been a lot of pie-in-the-sky ideas in this town. (Remember the old A.L. Cole power plant condos?) This time, though, the timing must have been right. 

The revamped Bay building is not only near completion, but it finally has that elusive fifth floor…bringing it to the height of the original store (though it is also longer). The adjoining mall soldiers on, now as a home to several government offices. The condos feature underground parking, a central atrium, open floor plans, etc. (See http://www.2ndavenuelofts.com/).

This appears to be just one small part of Saskatoon’s downtown revitalization. More to come in this blog.