The ‘little red bridge’ that divided a city turns five
Like many Calgarians, George Brookman loathed the $24.5-million red footbridge construction crews were building across the Bow River.
The longtime businessman thought another pedestrian crossing between Eau Claire and Sunnyside was an unnecessary extravagance. He felt the sole-source contract awarded to superstar Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava came at the expense of local talent.
But, that animosity lessened – ever so slightly – one day in 2012 while Brookman was cruising down Memorial Drive with friends and passed the striking steel structure as crews put finishing touches on the span.
“Look at that,” he remarked out loud. “Every picture in Calgary is going to have that bridge in it.” And he was right. The photos started in earnest on March 24, 2012, when thousands of Calgarians flooded onto the controversial Peace Bridge to celebrate its opening. And they haven’t stopped since.
For five years now, the distinct webbed, tubular structure has shone on the pages of magazines, tourism materials, City of Calgary reports, international architecture publications, best of lists, colouring books, calendars, postcards and in hundreds of thousands, if not millions of citizen photos — think wedding snapshots, profile pictures, graduation celebrations, vacation mementoes and countless selfies.
“It’s more than just a way to cross the river,” said Tamara Lee, who lives in Sunnyside, blocks from the bridge.
“It has become a great public space. Every time we cross it, we get asked to take pictures, we see fashion shoots, we see weddings. In June, you literally can’t bike across the bridge without hitting someone in a grad dress.”
But the Peace Bridge wasn’t always the local darling, tourist magnet and most photographed structure in Calgary that it is today.
Approved by council in 2008 in a 7-6 vote just seven days before the global economy was sent into a tailspin, the bridge became city halls’ punching bag, with critics lambasting the price tag, the solesourcing of its designer and the long-delayed opening.
The helical structure pitted aldermen against aldermen, became the talk of the town and was front and centre during the 2010 election, with some candidates charging the bridge would forever be resented by Calgarians and only visited by architecture buffs.
Even its name, said to honour the military, was controversial, with some elected officials criticizing the moniker as an attempt to buy public favour.
“People who worked on the bridge were even afraid to talk about it to their friends because it was so toxic,” recalled area councillor Druh Farrell, who supported the bridge and became the human shield at which many strangers directed their intense anger.
“It reached such a fever pitch, it was a feeding frenzy,” Farrell said.
When the bridge was finally complete, 17 months behind schedule, city officials — typically eager to cut ribbons on projects that cost several times what the Calatrava creation did — wanted little to do with an opening day party, leaving volunteers to plan a celebration that thousands showed up for.
It was during that party on the bridge on an overcast Saturday, while babysitting a large homemade red frame that throngs of Calgarians wanted to pose for photos with, that Lee realized the crossing would be more than just a pedestrian and cyclist thoroughfare.
“From that day on, it was a place to hang out,” she said.
Almost overnight, the engineering feat became a destination. Within months, counters tallied more than 6,000 people crossing it every day.
In a 2016 piece for Monocle, an international magazine, Calgary freelance journalist Jeremy Klaszus labelled the Peace Bridge “a new defining symbol for a city that didn’t know it needed one.”
In an interview, Klaszus said the structure has moved beyond the controversy that plagued it and replaced Calgary’s saddle-shaped hockey arena as a modern-day landmark that speaks to who we are as a city.
“When I saw a picture of the Peace Bridge on a concrete truck, that to me said it all,” Klaszus said. “It’s part of the city.”
Farrell said the “little red bridge” has become even grander than what she anticipated and she today views the river crossing as a turning point for a growing city.
“The reason we undertook this project is demonstrating itself every day,” she said.
The structure buzzes with activity day and night, or as Klaszus wrote in Monocle, it’s “constantly rippling with human warmth.”
It’s a hot spot for tourists, first dates, families, teenagers, and both amateur and professional photographers.
“It’s a dynamic, changing subject,” said photographer Neil Zeller. “It changes with the weather and from day to night. The lighting inside is basically a photo studio.”
Zeller, a former salesman, credits the red tube, with spurring his love affair with the city and even launching his photography career.
In the fall after it opened, Zeller spent many hours late at night honing his technical skills by shooting the Peace Bridge from all angles and sides with his Canon Rebel camera.
The photos earned heaps of praise online and by 2013, Zeller had quit his job to pursue photography full-time.
Today, he regularly takes workshop students to the crossing to learn photography and he’s known as the Peace Bridge photographer, with his shots of the landmark found in hundreds of homes and offices across the city.
Brookman, who like many Calgarians, disliked the bridge before it even opened, is one of many citizens whose thoughts about the bridge have changed.
Today, after correctly predicting it would become the star of many photos, Brookman spearheads an annual sunrise fundraising breakfast on the Peace Bridge to support military families, and said he’s formed a connection with the steel structure.
“In the end, I think the Peace bridge has turned out to be a real icon for the city,” he said.
“I’ve come to love it.”
Every time we cross it, we get asked to take pictures, we see fashion shoots, we see weddings …