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The embassy story
If one event stands out in the Chamber’s first 25 years, it is the May 1991 opening of the vast new Embassy of Canada complex on Tokyo’s prestigious Aoyama-dori. With its expansive public spaces, including a stunning indoor/outdoor terrace, 233-seat theater, art gallery and library, the new embassy was a bold affirmation of the value Canada places on its relations with Japan.
More than that, it was the fruit of remarkable foresight 60 years earlier by our first diplomatic representative in Japan, Sir Herbert Marler. It is a story that requires a bit of background.
While we celebrate July 1, 1867 as the birth of our country, Canada did not become a sovereign nation then. Along with the other “Dominions” (Australia, New Zealand, South Africa) we remained semi-colonies, with foreign relations managed by London. Quite literally we had to fight for our sovereignty, though not against Britain. It was Canada’s massive contribution to the 1914–18 war effort that won us the right to sign the Treaty of Versailles as a sovereign state. Following that, in the mid-1920s came the right to manage our own foreign affairs. And so Canada began to establish embassies abroad, starting naturally enough with Washington DC and Paris.
Ottawa’s choice in 1928 of Tokyo as our third legation was somewhat surprising, but at the time Japan was the third-largest buyer of Canadian exports. And our link with Japan was critical in the days when the fastest route from Europe to Japan was by ship to Montreal, train to Vancouver and ship to Yokohama. What’s more, the CNR ran special express trains, insured by the hour, that sped valuable Japanese silk from Vancouver to New York.
Marler, a wealthy Montreal lawyer and businessman, was appointed by Prime Minister Mackenzie King in January 1929 as our first diplomatic representative to Japan (as Minister, not Ambassador). It was a prescient choice, as Marler was better suited to negotiate a real estate deal than any career diplomat, nor was he intimidated by British diplomats who looked down their noses at a “colonial arriviste.”
Arriving in Tokyo on September 9, 1929, Marler soon decided that Canada needed to assert its diplomatic presence with an embassy that stood out. But six years after the Great Kanto Earthquake existing space was in short supply. And just as Marler began searching for a suitable site, the global economy was thrown into panic by the October 29th Wall Street crash.
As Japan slid into deep recession the following year and the yen’s value dropped, Viscount Tadatoshi Aoyama was looking to sell a four-acre estate across from the Akasaka Palace on what is now the boulevard that bears his family name. Whether prompted by the economic crisis or rumors that the property was haunted, thereby scaring off Japanese buyers, Aoyama was willing to sell to a foreign government, and at an attractive price. So in 1932 Marler was presented with an opportunity to buy the extremely prestigious site for ¥400,000, ¥25,000 below asking, which with a then-deflated yen came to just CAD $200,000 (about $4 million today).
By that time Canada’s new Conservative government was much less keen on foreign adventures, least of all building an opulent mansion amid the Depression. But Marler offered to pay out of his own vast fortune, lending the funds to the government for 10 years. When Marler cabled Ottawa with this offer however, government officials declined, saying it was too expensive. Marler reportedly responded:
“Too late, I’ve already bought it.”
Once the Aoyama estate became Canadian diplomatic property in 1932, Marler moved quickly to build the handsome official residence that stands to this day. In fact, even before coming to Japan he had drawn up conceptual plans. Legend has it that Marler, irked by the superior attitude of the Brits, took architect Antonin Raymond over to the British ambassador’s residence and said:
“See that? I want one bigger.”
Fast-forward five decades as a suddenly strong yen and ultra-low interest rates sparked a meteoric rise in Tokyo property prices. By the late 1980s, values in central Tokyo were so high that U.S. newspapers reported that the 115-hectare Imperial Palace had a nominal value higher than all the real estate in California. Meanwhile, just two kilometers west on Aoyama-dori, Canada owned a two-hectare piece of prime property said to have a nominal value higher than all the land in Atlantic Canada. Marler looked more astute than ever.
Naturally, Canada was tempted to sell and pay down the national debt, as was every other nation with diplomatic property. But it proved to be not so simple. When Australia attempted to sell part of its embassy grounds for a record-setting price in 1989, it came under intense pressure from Tokyo authorities to roll back the amount. The Aussies ended up complying.
Valuable though it was, Canada’s site had not been well-used. While Marler House and its gardens were as elegant as ever, the diplomatic offices were in a cramped and somewhat shabby building fronted by a muddy parking lot.
Facing such constraints, Canada came up with a seemingly ingenious way to leverage the value of its holdings. Long story short, Mitsubishi Trust Bank agreed to finance and Shimizu Construction to build the impressive edifice we have today, along with staff housing on the backlot. In return, to recoup its investment Mitsubishi received the right to rent out three upper floors and part of the basement for 30 years. As this was an unprecedented commercial use of diplomatic property, extensive legal work was required to confirm it was kosher under the Vienna Convention that governs diplomatic missions.
Raymond Moriyama, the famed Japanese-Canadian architect, faced a daunting design challenge. The building’s shape was determined by strict limits on the amount of shade it could cast on the Akasaka Palace and the park next door. Plus, Moriyama had to shoehorn in secure diplomatic facilities, commercial offices and public spaces. This required some awkward compromises, like having public areas on the fourth floor at the front of the building and those in the basement at back.
All that aside, the public spaces were and are sensational, especially the fourth-floor indoor/outdoor event spaces. I will always remember my first ride up that exterior escalator in 1991, gliding through the trees. And the sense of wonder while strolling around the vast terrace with its sculptural references to Canada’s terrain. I have seldom felt so proud to be Canadian.
