further to the news about the Dominion Club being shopped at the Home Shopping Channel and Gord's gig there last January:
http://www.corfid.com/ubb/ultimatebb...=003613#000000
and
http://www.corfid.com/ubb/ultimatebb...=003617#000000
Stinson's grand hotel: A pipe dream?
Money woes dog 1 King West project
Sep. 20, 2006. 01:00 AM
JENNIFER WELLS
BUSINESS COLUMNIST
Harry Stinson. Hangdog face. Weary eyes. Worrisome pallor. 7 p.m. Monday.
The subject at hand: the closing of the Dominion Club, the private members' retreat Stinson envisioned and even launched out of the elegant old Dominion Bank building at King and Yonge Sts.
What went wrong?
Let's see. It's July. Stinson's plan for 3,000 club members has fallen short by 2,650 or so. So there's that.
The hotel business is in the doldrums, despite Stinson offering rooms at the 1 King West condo-hotel for the lower-than-low price of 129 bucks.
So there's that, too.
And then there's the image of hotel guests in summer attire — flip-flops! — settling into the Dominion Club's leather chairs and ordering a beer.
"There wasn't a widespread revolution," says Stinson of those who had ponied up $5,000 to be Dominion Club members.
But the vocal minority was, he continues, "extremely upset that hotel guests were in their club. ... The formals resented the informals and made it vocally known."
These same members, he says, did not seem to recall or understand that the club plan as it was envisioned always allowed for the regular use of the facilities by out-of-towners staying at the hotel. "We never said we had a strict dress code. Suit. Tie. Morning coat. ... You're supposed to shut off the world and walk into the 19th century when you walk into your club? We said, No. This place will be more dynamic than that."
The formals complained directly to Stinson. It's easy enough to do. Stinson's office is still exposed to all comers, situated as it is right there, in the lobby of 1 King, against the south facing hotel windows, adorned with overflowing cardboard boxes and crayonist drawings of the "I Love You Daddy" period.
Some might find this endearing. Others might suggest that the rumpled environs do nothing to enhance 1 King's efforts to be seen as a chic downtown hotel.
To this Stinson seems oblivious. He has bigger worries. For instance, he has sent letters to all Dominion Club members informing them that it could take until June next year to extend full refunds. "It's going to take a while," he says. "It's a lot of money."
Well, it isn't really. Or it shouldn't be when you're running a 500-room condo-hotel in the heart of downtown, one that has, to give Stinson his due, beautifully enhanced the skyline of the city.
But money woes and Harry Stinson have always gone hand in glove, from his days trying to launch the Candy Factory lofts, a project ultimately wrested from him, through other aborted dreams to, at last, the opening of 1 King, the under-construction condo development on Roncesvalles Ave., and the yet unrealized dream of his Sapphire tower near City Hall.
Truth to tell, money woes plague 1 King beyond the Dominion Club dust-up. Almost two years ago, Stinson led a tour through what was to be his own 6,000-square-foot condominium. He was so excited. Like a kid. But ask him where he lives today and he says ruefully, "I believe I'm currently on the 12th floor."
Nothing has been done on his own pad. Nada. "There are still things to be resolved and they seem to think that's a good lever," he says. And then, "David needs to complete his transaction."
By "David," Stinson is referring to David Mirvish, who came to Stinson's financial rescue and who, says Stinson, has been very patient through the project's tortured completion. But there are 33 original suites still unsold, and those have to be offloaded to complete the transaction that Stinson refers to. To complicate matters, some of the initial condo buyers have turned, says Stinson, into "motivated vendors." So the developers are competing in the marketplace against resellers who, as Stinson puts it, "just want to get their money out."
Then there are the three penthouse suites, priced at $6 million apiece as they were two years ago. Still unsold. And Stinson turns very vague on mortgage negotiations currently ongoing with Mirvish. "I don't have any bone to pick with David personally," Stinson says quietly. "Obviously, I'm frustrated. It hasn't worked out the way I wanted it to. There aren't a lot of villains in this one."
There is so much that hasn't worked out. On the King St. side of the building, what was to have been a lively café decorated with the red stone front of Michie's greengrocers, originally located on the spot, is now the sales office for Stinson Properties. It looks dreadful.
On the Yonge St. side, the awnings that were to dot the entire side of the building have not materialized and anyone walking past gets hit with a blast of exhaust from somewhere in the bowels of the building. ("I don't even think it's legal," says Stinson in his usual matter-of-fact manner. "I hope we get a notice from the city saying we must change that. To me it's embarrassing.") To passersby, 1 King presents not as the animated grand hotel that Stinson envisioned but rather something bleakly institutional. "It really boils down to financing," Stinson sighs. "That's the history of the whole project."
Ever the optimist, Stinson admits to being exhausted, but not defeated. He insists that things are looking up. August was busy, busy, busy. The film festival helped buoy September. And this latest decision, to close the Dominion Club and turn the vast hall into a special event space for weddings and such, is bound, he believes, to be a reliable revenue spinner. It had better be. Seven people are having dinner in a cavern that seats hundreds. There is not one person at the 30-metre-long bar.
At 1.21 a.m. Tuesday he shoots off an email. Does the man never sleep?
"We appear to be at 100% occupancy tonight," he writes of the hotel rooms, adding that a wedding has been booked for the weekend in the banking hall, and The Rockettes, who have reserved a block of rooms in advance of their Christmas season show at the Hummingbird Centre, are soon to arrive. As for the penthouses, one of them is being kitted out for the filming of a designer contest TV show. He adds that a few of the members of the defunct club dropped by to express their support, right there in the corner of the lobby, where Harry Stinson vows he will stay until he can say, once and for all, that he got it right this time.
Poor Harry.
