Kowloon Sunset

Another summer day comes to a close amidst the gentle patter of air conditioner rain…

Swinging Into the Neon Dusk

Helen’s Children’s Wear, Burnaby. Photo by M.J. Milloy

Vancouver used to be one of the world’s capitals of neon before its dour city fathers ruined the fun in the 1960s and the signs were banned. A handful of gems managed to survive, though, and over the past decade, Vancouver’s neon heritage has become increasingly appreciated. The city even encourages the use of neon on a handful of streets. Still, a number of great signs have vanished in recent years. The latest to go is one of the most unique: Helen’s swinging neon sign in Burnaby Heights, an old streetcar suburb centered around East Hastings Street.

Helen Arnold opened her children’s clothing store in 1948. At the time, Vancouver’s cityscape was littered with a collection of neon signs rivalled only by a few other cities like Hong Kong; presumably, she needed a particularly remarkable sign to stand out. So she leased a sign that depicted a girl on a swing that actually swung back and forth, thanks to magnets and a timing mechanism. Even though the sign cost a lot to operate, Helen credits it with bringing in a lot of business over the past fifty years: “We often get people in here who say that if it wasn’t for that sign, they would never have found us,” she told Burnaby Now in 2004.

Unfortunately, Helen is retiring, and now her sign’s future is in jeopardy. Rumour has it that the City of Burnaby will buy the sign and use it to welcome people to the Burnaby Heights neighbourhood; problem is, in doing so, they would change the sign’s text to “Heights” and prevent it from swinging, since local by-laws prohibit animated signs. This strikes me as a particularly backwards way of saving the sign; not only would moving it and changing the lettering completely decontextualize it, stopping the swing would ruin what made it famous in the first place.

In the Neon Glow of Granville Street

When Fred Herzog hung out on Granville Street in the late fifties, it was one of those ballsy main streets that people most often associate with film noir and hard-boiled detective stories. The view down Granville from Robson Street revealed a seemingly endless procession of classic neon signs, their soft glow a welcome sign of colour and warmth in the Pacific drizzle. Granville’s slow decline into sleaze mirrored that of many other Great White Ways, not the least of which was the original Great White Way itself, Times Square.

In the late 1990s, when Vancouver city planners were looking for ways to revitalize Granville, they sought inspiration from its own past. Teaming up with heritage activists and business owners, the city ambitiously promoted the restoration of vintage neon signs. More modern forms of glitz and illumination were added, like the giant video screens on a new retail complex at the corner of Robson. Granville has since been revived as an entertainment centre were bars are allowed to stay open until 4am.

Although you’d expect this to homogenize the street, turning it into just a cheesy collection of bad bars, Starbucks and Urban Outfitters, Granville’s gritty character has proven tenacious. For all of that hard scrubbing, there’s still a lot of dirt left behind the ears.

Turn on the Lights

In Seoul, a 1970s-era department store with blank concrete walls (below) was enlivened by the addition of LED lights that turned its exterior into a dynamic light show. Photo courtesy of the Architect’s Newspaper.

On the television screen in a dark viewing room at the National Film Board in Montreal, it’s a hot summer night in 1947. Crowds throng the sidewalks of Ste. Catherine Street, bathed in bright neon, theatre marquees and billboards. “All over the city, the night air is alive with the laughter and gaiety of a carnival mood,” exclaims the narrator in the jaunty, dapper tone typical of the era. Cut to more lights; happy faces fill the frame.

It’s no coincidence that some of the most iconic and beloved images of the city date from the middle of the twentieth century, when light was warmly embraced by the world’s metropoles. Every city with dreams of making it big boasted a Great White Way, the best and brightest part of town to which crowds flocked, looking for excitement. Ever since electricity was invented in the late nineteenth century, light has been used to define urban space and create a sense of place. Stern white light projected against the facade of a church or city hall instills a sense of power and gravitas; the blinking neon and all-consuming illumination of a busy main street, by contrast, shouts, “You are here!” with giddy enthusiasm.

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