After a building in Saint-Henri collapses, Montreal community solidarity shines through

When a friend sent Dean Eckmann a picture of the triplex at the corner of Cazelais and Walnut streets in Montreal’s Saint-Henri neighbourhood on Monday afternoon — a place he and his partner Martin Emory have called home for the past decade — partially collapsed, and missing an entire exterior wall, it felt surreal. 

“I saw the picture, I knew it was our house,” Eckmann says, “but I didn’t believe it. I could see my flowers and the stained-glass window, but it didn’t feel real. It just didn’t seem possible.”

The U.S.-born organ builder and musician who’s long designed, built and installed choir organs for churches and cathedrals around the world, jumped on his bike to go see with his own eyes what photographic evidence already told him had occurred. When he arrived on Cazelais Street, the area was full of fire trucks, and he wasn’t even allowed access to the premises. Their home on the triplex’s third floor, which contained all of his and his partner’s valuables and memories, was a total loss. 

“All we have left are the clothes on our back and the bike I rode off on that morning,” he said.

Irreplaceable antique musical instruments forever lost

The losses incurred extend far beyond the usual household items. The craftsman’s long-time passion — since he was a child — has been patiently and lovingly restoring antique musical instruments. When the triplex partially collapsed Monday evening, everything Eckmann had collected and restored back to playable condition over the years was suddenly and irrevocably lost. While he tells me he’s still holding on to hope, the odds of them being able to salvage anything at all are slim. 

In full transparency, while I don’t know anyone I interviewed personally, I feel connected to this story because I live a few blocks away from Cazelais in Saint-Henri. I was busy working on my laptop Monday afternoon when a sudden power failure on my street and the sounds of sirens from the fire trucks alerted me to something being wrong. Within the hour, one of the many Saint-Henri community pages on Facebook would be posting snapshots and information from neighbours informing us of the building’s partial collapse.

The shocking images shared on social media showed the triplex’s side wall completely collapsed with the interior exposed, looking eerily like a dollhouse. Tenants’ belongings on the second and third floor (the first floor was currently unoccupied) — a bicycle, remnants of furniture, pieces of clothing, a straw sun hat — poked through the debris, reminding everyone that until that afternoon, the building housed people’s homes.

According to the Montreal fire department, the collapse was triggered by excavation work being done on a nearby parking lot. Thankfully, no one was at home in the triplex (currently on the market and listed for sale for just under $1.3-million), when the collapse happened, and no injuries were reported. Three Saint-Henri residents, however, have still been left with nothing. 

Community rallies behind those in need

The silver lining in all this has been watching the immediate outpouring of support from Montreal’s Saint-Henri community and beyond. 

To help get Eckmann and his partner get back on their feet, a friend of theirs, Keith Fernandez, immediately set up an online fundraiser with the goal of raising $20,000. The response has been amazing, with over $16,000 already raised. 

“This space wasn’t just a place to live — it was the heart of their lives, filled with memories and treasures,” reads Fernandez’s fundraising post. “Along with their clothing, furniture and other possessions, they also lost Dean’s meticulously restored historical instruments, as well as the priceless family heirlooms Martin had cherished.”

Fernandez had just been at Eckmann and Emory’s Saint-Henri apartment the weekend before the tragic collapse. “They hosted us, like they’ve done so many times before, and we had a great time,” he says. “I just knew I had to do something to at least ease their financial burden, even though they’ve lost items that are simply irreplaceable.” 

Fernandez says he’s not surprised by the outpouring of support. “I think it’s a reflection of who they are,” he says. “Dean has worked and collaborated with so many people in this small and tightknit community of organ builders around the world, and Montreal’s queer community has also reached out to help them. They’re great humans and I know this, having been on the receiving end of all that love.”

A chef left with no tools for her trade

Nongyao (Yao) Truadmakkha, who occupied the second-floor apartment in the collapsed triplex, had lived there for about a year and a half. Born in Thailand, she immigrated to Canada, and eventually Quebec, where she worked as a private chef in Mont Tremblant and many other prestigious restaurants, like Auberge Saint-Gabriel, to perfect her culinary skills. She can be found on Instagram as Yao Spicy Chef.

In Montreal since 2014, Yao has also built a career working as a culinary stylist for local TV production companies like Zone 3, which produces popular culinary shows like Curieux Bégin. 

“I usually don’t work on Mondays,” she told me, still in shock. “But that morning,I left around 7 a.m. to do some prep work and for some reason I decided to take my laptop with me. Thank God I did because it contains my life.”

That afternoon, she received a phone call from her landlord’s mom informing her that the building had started leaning and wasn’t safe to enter. 

“When she sent me a picture of the collapsed wall, I turned to my colleagues and said, ‘I think I need to go home.’”

Only, there was no “home” to go home to. 

“I quickly realized when I got there that I had lost access to everything,” she says. “All I had was the t-shirt and jeans I was wearing. I lost my belongings, my important documents, all the memories of my mom’s things who recently passed away, they’re all gone. I’m basically homeless.”

Everyone affected has been sheltered in temporary housing while they await news from their insurance companies.  

Yao has posted a Facebook post asking for help from the community. She’s particularly devastated by having lost all of her chef’s tools.

“Everything I’ve worked for and collected my entire adult life is gone,” she writes. “Dear friends and professional colleagues, while I’m trying to rebuild my life and awaiting an uncertain insurance settlement, if you have any extra chef’s tools, equipment or essential kitchen items to give away, please set them aside and let me know. I’m currently living in a hotel and don’t have space to store them. Gift cards from these stores would also be greatly appreciated: Winners, HomeSense, the Bay, IKEA, Amazon.”

Any Montreal chefs with any extra tools and knives laying around can reach out to her at nongyaotruadmakkha@gmail.com.

Musician is all about paying it forward 

Fernandez isn’t the only person who’s launched a fundraiser. Modibo Keita (Mo to his friends), a musician who’s lived on Cazelais Street for a number of years, has also started a fundraising campaign to raise six months of rent for two of the tenants.

When I reached out to the professional musician, to ask why he decided to help out, his answer was simple. 

“Cazelais Street has been a very warm and welcoming community to me ever since I moved in,” he said. “I have found friends in this little part of Saint-Henri. When everything stopped during the pandemic, my life had completely changed. I had no work but mostly a lot of time. (More than I ever had.) During this time, I decided, in order to stay mentally sane, to play for my neighbours with some of my musician friends. Not only did people come out to hear us but they insisted on giving us money, considering what was happening in our industry.”

Remember how I said that I also live in the neighbourhood? I attended quite a few of those weekly jam sessions on Cazelais Street during the pandemic. In fact, when I didn’t feel like leaving my home, I would sit on my balcony and often listen to Mo’s trombone, and I felt that connection to my neighbourhood and my city during those isolating times. Those musical sessions helped all of us in different ways.

“It was so touching to see the support everyone wanted to provide,” Keita tells me.
“However, the most valuable thing I got during this time was the opportunity to get to individually know the people and create bonds ranging from a simple hi when we see each other to full-on friendships. They kept me alive. When I saw what happened, I felt an urge to participate as a member of that community.”

Montreal solidarity shines through 

While the building’s collapse has been devastating for the tenants who lost everything, and it certainly serves as a poignant reminder of the unpredictability of life, silver linings exist. For one, everyone I spoke to was deeply thankful that no one was injured or worse. It’s sheer luck that no one was in the building at the time of the collapse. 

Secondly, Eckmann, Emory and Truadmakkha are deeply thankful for the support they’ve received. 

“Although the last few days have been emotionally charged,” writes Emory in a Facebook post, “Dean and I are especially moved by the commitment and generosity of those around us. We still can’t believe the week we’ve had, but our network of family and friends has shown us their love. Thank you a thousand times and a big celebration will be in order when the days are better.”

It’s the outpouring of support I saw on social media that compelled me to write about this. Yes, the partial and sudden collapse of a building is definitely newsworthy, but the effortless and quick solidarity among Montrealers is what I was mostly inspired to share, hoping it might motivate more people to help out if they can.

“As much as my heart is exploding from sadness from this loss,” Eckmann tells me, “it’s also exploding with gratitude and joy from the many messages we’ve received, people reaching out and letting us know they care.” ■

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Read more weekly editorial columns by Toula Drimonis.