Dal Grauer is not terribly fond of Plexiglass. In fact, he finds it rather distasteful.

It's May 1953 and a man is walking down Burrard Street on a clear night. He sees something and stops walking. To no one in particular he says "hotdamn, what is that sonofabitch!" Then he takes off his hat, runs his fingers through his hair, and stares in amazement for a good few minutes. He takes a step back, and then a step to the right, so as to see it from different perspectives. Thoroughly impressed, he snaps his fingers and grins. "Well if that ain't somthin" he exclaims before replacing his hat and walking off.

Last week I took a friend to the same thing that the man saw to gauge her reaction. But there was little finger snapping or hat doffing -- not even an excited cuss word. This is how it went:

-- Well, what do you think?
-- What do I think about what? It's just an ugly old building.
-- That's not true, you wretched philistine. How dare you desecrate the glorious Dal Grauer substation!
-- So what, did you know the guy?

We're no longer friends. But it became obvious why fifty years ago the Dal Grauer substation elicited oohs & aahs and today is lucky to get the occasional grunt. The reason, quite simply, is plexiglass.

Because when the Dal Grauer substation was completed in 1953 its facade incorporated conventional plate glass, not that plexi nonsense, which was installed much later. The problem is that the latter becomes opaque over time, meaning that one cannot see inside the building. This compromises its aesthetic, because the building's interior was indeed meant to be seen -- the substation's electrical innards were painted in wonderful colours intersecting rectilenearly. Period photos show what it was meant to look like: a colossal De Stijl installation, overwhelming modest Burrard Street with dazzling light and colour. Nowadays, it just sort of sits there, looking more substationy than art-like. There's not a lot to look at.

One of the first truly modernist structures in Vancouver, the substation was designed by the young architect Ned Pratt along with artist B.C. Binning, who came up with the interior colour scheme (Binning was also responsible for the coloured tiling of the adjacent BC Electric Building, built several years later). It's worth mentioning too that the building's namesake had accomplished a few things in his day -- Rhodes Scholar, phenomenal athlete, Berkeley PhD, called to the bar before he was twenty-five, business dynamo, and so on and so forth. Anyway Grauer was then-president of the BC Electric Company (now BC Hydro) so it's no wonder his name was slapped on the side.

The building's design perfectly captured the modernist form-follows-function ethos, marrying art and utility in a colourful celebration all Vancouverites could enjoy and interact with. What's more, it drew civic and corporate culture together -- hell, back in the fifties you might've actually enjoyed paying your electricity bill knowing it helped pay for something worthy of Piet Mondrian. It remains one of our city's great architectural coups.

But until somebody gets that damned plexiglass off and gets out the touch-up paint the building will fail to stimulate the public as it was intended to. Thankfully, eminent local architect Peter Busby has designs to do just that, with the full backing of Heritage Vancouver (who placed the Dal Grauer Substation on their top ten endangered list this year). For now though it appears City Hall has tightened the purse strings on its heritage projects, this one included. I for one say get a move on you fatcats -- in a city as littered with architectural offal as ours we really need to polish the few gems we're lucky to have left. That way people will say things like "hotdamn" and "sonofabitch!" more often.

This is what it could look like! (Courtesy of Busby Perkins + Will)