The El Mirador Apartments

Written By Dane Ryksen

  • 10147 108th Street

  • Architect: Ralph H. Trouth

  • Constructed: 1935-37 / 1953

  • Demolished: 2021

El Mirador was the work of one man: Ralph Henry Trouth.

An Iowa-native, Trouth came to Edmonton in 1911 with dreams of being an architect. His lean face, wide ears, and piercing eyes may not have cut a striking figure, but he had drive. Edmonton’s architects certainly thought so — Magoon & MacDonald, Allan Jeffers, and Ernest Morehouse, some of the city’s best draughtsmen, all vied for his services at one-time-or-another.

Trouth wasn’t like most architects, though. He considered himself an “architectural designer” — instead of designing new buildings, he preferred to redesign old ones. If a business’ storefront or an apartment house’s facade needed a fresh face, they’d go to Trouth.

By the time the Depression rolled around, he managed to carve out a niche for himself. A good thing too — the Depression hit Edmonton particularly hard. It was a decade where the number of major building projects completed could be counted on one hand, and where work for a regular architect was nonexistent.

Trouth started work on El Mirador in the midst of the Dirty Thirties. His canvas was an empty lot, and a small Craftsman home he purchased. Granted his first permit on August 7th, 1935 for the “construction of a $10,000 apartment building at 10147 108 st.,” Trouth transformed the old home into a sprawling Spanish Revival-styled villa. Subsequent permits in 1937 and 1953 further expanded his vision.

In all, El Mirador included forty-five rentable apartments. Thirty-seven were one-bedroom suites, two were two-bedroom suites, and six were bachelor suites. A rental ad in the Edmonton Journal called it a “smart new apartment for business people.” According to the Edmonton Bulletin, its two room units featured private baths, a rarity at the time. A communal locker room, laundry, and electric washing machine were included.

Trouth’s building and its “hybrid style of Spanish Baroque, Spanish Colonial, and Moorish Revival architecture” made it a one-of-a-kind design. Its Californian inspiration was likely prompted by Trouth’s American origins — where the style had already gained widespread popularity — coupled with a sense of Great Depression escapism.

In Canada, Spanish Revival styles gained popularity owing to their practicality of design, low cost, and suggestions of Hollywood glamour. A Guide to Canadian Architectural Styles explains that its rustic qualities “also satisfied the fashion for unpretentious materials. This taste for apparent simplicity derived from the English Arts and Crafts Movement. Concrete manufactures saw the style as an ideal vehicle for their product, and many construction magazines in the United States and Canada featured articles concerning the economic advantages of concrete construction” — El Mirador favoured brick.

Describing the apartments, the Edmonton Historic Board notes its:

“Whitewashed exterior features, circular and arched details, and an elliptical window over the main entryway [while] red corrugated roof tiles cover the distinctive gabled section over the main entryway, and the slightly raised side elements to the roof of the original building suggest the towers typical of Spanish Revival. The arched first floor balconies allude to the arcaded walkways found in southern climates, and the balconies and spiral staircase have iron railings. Most in character to the Spanish Revival style is the open courtyard, which aside from being of architectural interest, helps add a sense of community for some of the building’s residents.”

Ralph Henry Trouth managed El Mirador for three decades. Even a brief three-year move to Vancouver didn’t hinder his charge. He later settled in Calgary, where he died on January 15th, 1965. His widow, Annie, retained control of the property for several more years.

Once Annie sold, El Mirador bounced around between different landlords. Slowly, a dangerous mix of indifference or greed began to take hold. By the 2010s, repairs were fewer-and-farther between. One-time-resident Angela Johnston described:

“Two of my friends in El Mirador have a shabby piece of plywood reinforcing their bathroom ceiling, and they still experience the occasional leak when their upstairs neighbour takes a bath. My windows don’t open all the way. Each winter, the heating fails at least once or twice, and some apartments are icy-cold until April.”

In part, it was because some owners hoped they’d be able to upsell to a redeveloper. One-time manager, Dan de Ridder was sure it would happen. Speaking to the Journal in 1978, the Dutch immigrant said “I don’t think the El Mirador will be around in ten years — it may be even shorter.” “Will you be sad?” the reporter asked. “No. For us Dutch people, [El Mirador] is not history yet — although, if you keep bulldozing, you don’t get that history happening.”

It was only a matter of time before something stuck. On July 3rd, 2019, City Council unanimously approved a requested rezoning, paving the way for a new high-rise complex to be built on El Mirador’s site. Preliminary demolition began in September 2021. Its replacement, ‘The Parks’, is a two-tower development containing 1,050 units.

“It’s just unfortunate that they didn’t keep it up as well as they could have, you know? I don’t understand why they couldn’t have worked with what is here, rather than taking it all down,” Charlie May, a sixteen-year resident of El Mirador, opined. Stephanie Bondio, another tenant, was more pointed with her comments. “I’m angry, I’m distraught — this is my home. I lived in New Orleans, that’s where I’m from. They have buildings that are three-hundred years old — there is zero reason why this building has to go.”

John Day, local developer, long-time El Mirador owner, and redevelopment figurehead, took to CTV News to assuage anger over the complex’s death. “I’ve been involved in the ownership of it in one way or another for many decades now, and I can assure you it is getting very old and very tired, and it’s getting beyond the state where it should be maintained.”

An article in the downtown-centric magazine, The Yards disagreed:

“Former historian laureate Shirley Lowe doesn’t express much sympathy for owners who argue that their buildings have fallen too far into disrepair to be salvaged. In some cases, lack of maintenance is intentional — ‘demolition by neglect,’ she calls it. ‘Usually the reason you want to demolish it is because you can reap a reward, an immediate reward, perhaps at the expense of the community.’ The only thing that matters to most developers is a cost comparison of upgrading a building versus tearing it down to build anew.”

Despite all odds, El Mirador became a landmark. Our little slice of California, with its bright stucco and red tiles, was a curio to anyone who passed by and unique in a way most of Edmonton’s buildings couldn’t dream of being. Now what’ll replace it? A high-rise that wouldn’t look out of place in Calgary, Vancouver, Toronto, Montreal…

With El Mirador’s destruction goes one of Edmonton’s most community-centric developments. Lauded by all who knew it, the apartments’ open-air halls, balconies, and communal courtyard fostered a lively, inviting, and neighbourly atmosphere.

With El Mirador’s destruction goes dozens of displaced tenants and even more affordable, centrally-located, transit-connected housing. Now it’s been replaced at a premium.

With El Mirador’s destruction goes the legacy of its creator, Ralph Henry Trouth. This quirky building was his last major surviving work. Now both the man and his creations are gone.

Image Gallery:

Sources:

Dane Ryksen
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