Senneville tower faces possible destruction

Senneville's water tower on the old Morgan property in the West Island village stands in the middle of a wooded area near the Braeside golf course, surrounded by a small, ruined stone wall that can be leapt across in a single bound.

Misleadingly called a "castle" or "fort" by some, the tower was built sometime between 1892 and 1903 for the Morgan family estate.

As history buff and real estate restaurateur John Doak gingerly leapt up the steps to the tower, he noted the debris left by teenagers in and around it. "Look, they brought toilet paper," he said with a laugh as he spied an empty carton. "Who says they're not hygienic?"

Long abandoned of any actual use, the tower has been a hang-out for teenagers from all over the West Island and off-island for years. Beer cans, cigarette butts, soft drink and water bottles visible in the morning light on Monday all pointed to a party held there recently.

And with police reporting acts of vandalism and even an attack on a village resident last summer by night-time, Senneville's demolition committee has made the decision to allow the lands' current owner to apply for a demolition permit. "(Council is) sort of torn over the issue," said the village's mayor, George McLeish. In 2001, before Senneville was merged with Montreal, McLeish and council voted to recognize the tower as a historical monument in Senneville. They tried to get the province to act on it, McLeish said, but "(the province) didn't do anything." Since demerging in 2006, the village's problems with the tower have not stopped.

With a demolition permit approved at a special meeting on Oct. 20, McLeish said there are only 30 days for anyone to appeal for council to stand against the demolition committee's decision.

Were he a Senneville resident, Doak would likely do so. With his glasses held together by a rubber band, mild frame, curly greying hair and sport jacket, he cut an unlikely sentry's frame as he stared toward the Lake of Two Mountains from atop the tower, but he is vocally opposed to its destruction. "I feel that we're standing atop a major look-out that shows the scenic beauty of the western part of the island," he said.

On his way down vertiginous steps, Doak saw a large black T-shirt made with stretchy material on the floor. He picked it up and used it as a makeshift bag to collect all the recyclable cans and glass bottles littering the area. "Thank you party goers. Come back tomorrow," he said with a laugh.

It is not just history amateurs who want to preserve the site. One former party goer who has visited the place in her teenage years expressed concern to The Chronicle<@$p> as well, consenting to an anonymous interview. "It's part of West Island history," she said. "I can understand that they want to take it down for safety reasons," she added, recalling the tall heights of the tower's summit which can be particularly precarious for anybody under the influence. "You talk to people who were teenagers 10-20 years ago," she said, "and they know about the tower. You talk to teenagers now and they know about the tower."

Speaking about what attracted her, and likely continues to attract many teens today, she recalled the "creepy," horror movie-esque aspect of it.

The entrance of off Senneville Road indeed does stand out. There are gates with a fallen "Propriété Privée, défense de passer" sign, and the stone wall that surrounds the property is broken down in parts. "No parking" signs are also jutted in the street along its length. Even if rowdy teens were to get past the wall, there is still quite a ways to reach their objective. Trees with snapping branches, plants that may easily bind the legs of those who stumble in the dark carelessly, and even small ditches in the leafy ground all make it a bit of a challenge.

According to McLeish, teens give themselves meeting dates via the Internet, either through websites or social networking tools like Facebook. "We had escalating problems with the tower," McLeish said, noting the vandalism has been getting worse and worse.

He added that local police suggest the bulk of the vandalism would stop with the tower destroyed.

However, Doak disagreed. "They're merely displacing the problem from the mayor and the slightly affected councillors' homes," he said, pointing out the homes surrounding the tower property belong to the mayor and a council member. "It's ridiculous," McLeish charged back to any allegations of a conflict of interest on his part in decisions about the tower. "I don't even sit on the demolition committee," he said, adding he might not even cast his voice if the demolition comes to a vote.

As Doak was about to leave the premises of the tower, he stopped by the fallen "Propriété privé" sign near the gates on Senneville Road. He attempted to use one of the glass beer bottles he picked up at the tower as an impromptu hammer to plant the sign back into the ground, but the bottle broke.

He returned to his car, but another idea sprang to mind. Running back to the sign, he used his bare hands to hook it into the gates and hold it in place with the barbed wires around the latter.