It's probably too late to save Fort San. There are a few people who could or should be admonished for allowing this venerable former TB sanitarium to reach its current state of disrepair.
The provincial government had, for a number of years, maintained old Fort Sanity, near Fort Qu'Appelle, as a conference centre and a summer school for the arts. It was a provincial showpiece and well recognized as a centre of excellence for those pursuing artistic and business endeavours. Then they just quit, probably because it wasn't making any money. Dumping it was seen to be the politically expedient thing to do.
Private developers bought it with the promise to take it to a new level. Unfortunately, that level was downward, and Fort San's gates have been locked, the former lush lawns are now lush weeds and the main building, outbuildings and dorms are doomed.
It doesn't appear as if anyone with any money or moxie is racing forward to save it. Sanity deserves better and we'll regret the fact it wasn't saved. But such is life in the "live for the moment" political and business landscapes. No heritage genes showing up here.
When Fort San was alive as an art and business centre, it was really alive. I know I had the privilege of spending three weeks there on two separate occasions during the summer and still recall these excursions with fondness.
The place groaned with band students of various ages and disciplines; Russian and Ukrainian dancers from Saskatchewan learning from instructors straight from Russia and the Ukraine. Ballet students were taught by imported teachers from Paris and New York. There were drummers and bagpipers learning from crazy guys named Geordie from Glasgow and clarinet and tuba players taking instructions from cool dudes direct from Birdland while theatrical aspirants caught hints of greatness from movie and theatrical directors from LA, Toronto and Calgary.
We, as a tiny band of writers, did what we do best. We observed and wrote thousands of words. Our only rules in the dorm we shared with the Russian and ballet dancers were no television and no curfew. If we felt like writing, talking or dancing at 3 a.m. we wrote and talked and danced.
In our little world, we picked up great tips from the likes of local authors such as Dave Carpenter and Gary Hyland and Dave Arnason from Manitoba along with Patrick Lane and Margaret Atwood who weren't from Sask. I'll never forget the 4 a.m. polka session I had with Hyland and two Ukrainian teachers and students and one ballet teacher who may have struggled with the English language but knew how to consume wine with aplomb and grace while twirling herself into a fireplace (unlit that night thankfully).
We challenged the band students to a marathon relay race. We were awakened every morning by a trio of obnoxious but funny bagpipers.
We climbed the Qu'Appelle hills to commune with nature, the Molson family and one another on a couple of occasions and we even managed to sort out the intricacies of a co-ed bathroom regime during the first summer, with no embarrassing moments.
The food was good and the artistic vibes were even better.
Fort San attracted all sorts of teachers and students from all over Canada and the globe, and it was a tour de force on that scene for years.
That's gone now. Nothing has replaced it. Other things are happening on the art fronts now. Some will call it progress, but I'm not so sure.
Where else could you see Ukrainian dancers trying ballet and ballet dancers and fiddlers trying to write a short story?
Fort San was a good place to be once upon a time.
