The Claims-Free Architect

The Wonky Wall: How Coordination and Consultants Couldn't Save a Crumbling Heritage Structure

• Pro-Demnity Insurance Company • Season 4 • Episode 11

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During the renovation of a historic building, intended to serve as a banquet hall, ancient walls crumble under new loads and chaos halts construction. Can an architect be liable when experts vouched for stability?

Uncover why old stones betray, how inspections save you, and why consultants matter.

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Being next to a picturesque ruin with a fabulous harbour view would seem to be an ideal location for a high-end destination restaurant. And incorporating the ancient stone walls into the fabric of the restaurant would provide just the right ambience for a gourmet dining experience. What could possibly go wrong? We call this story “ROCK & RUIN.”


Danny Aboud had arrived in Nova Scotia from Lebanon in the 1990s. By virtue of his natural charm and commercial acumen, he was able to make a small fortune in the Maritime real estate market. Local businessmen and bankers regarded him as invincible. But his real dream was to own a prestigious restaurant where he could play the role of gracious host and cultural ambassador. The Lighthouse Tower Restaurant in Craigfell, Nova Scotia, was the realization of that dream, and his one true love. And, naturally, he had made it into a goldmine.


The actual “Lighthouse Tower,” after which the restaurant was named, was an old lighthouse, whose beacon once guided sailors safely into the harbour. Now decommissioned and in poor repair, it served as a landmark to guide hungry connoisseurs to Danny Aboud’s dining room, while its ground floor served as a vestibule and waiting area. A newer adjacent structure housed a dining room, bar and service areas.



The Lighthouse Tower Restaurant had become a fine dining destination overlooking the waterfront, where locals and Haligonians could partake of classic Lebanese cuisine while enjoying a sweeping view of the harbour. The restaurant had become prosperous enough for Aboud to open two other restaurants in the general vicinity. But he owed his true allegiance to the Lighthouse Tower, so he decided to expand the operation by including banquet facilities. As it happened, there was an existing structure right next to the lighthouse that might be easily incorporated into his plans.


This adjacent structure, which might better be described as the remains of a structure, consisted of the ruins of a fort, built by the Royal Engineers in the early 19th century, to command the harbour. The thick stone walls were still largely intact and might lend a suitable historic ambience to his proposed expansion. To deal with the pushback he was certain to receive from local historians and preservationists, he hired the highly-regarded heritage Architect Bartholomew Roberts to do the work.


Roberts, a Nova Scotian by birth, had moved to Toronto to study architecture and had established his practice there. But he still maintained a home and small office in Nova Scotia, where he was also licenced to practice. It was Aboud’s extreme good fortune to find an Architect with an office nearby as well as the necessary heritage experience. Or so he believed.


Together Aboud and Roberts devised a plan to upgrade and restore the ruins, and to situate a new dining area within them. Roberts inspected the old stonework and declared it to be sound. All that it needed was “a little tuckpointing”—scraping out and replacing some of the old mortar—to stabilize the looser stones. In Roberts’s expert opinion, the walls had stood firm for nearly two centuries, and he saw no reason for them not to last another two. He didn’t think it necessary to perform any tests, but nevertheless, he hired local Civil Engineer Scottie McLore to look at the condition of the walls, just to be on the safe side. McLore concurred with Roberts’ assessment that the walls were sound, and he signed a letter to that effect. For this service, he charged $1500.


Roberts had not intended for the ancient walls to carry any structural loads. All they had to do was to support the extra weight of the windows, which he planned to insert into the existing wall openings. To support the new roof, the new coffered ceiling, and any mechanical equipment, he planned to insert a separate column-and-beam structure inside the existing walls.



Nevertheless, in order to get building approval, Architect and Client fought a long campaign through planning committees, Preservation Society inspectors, local referenda and court injunctions, until, after three-and-a-half years and countless design changes, they were finally granted a building permit.


Unfortunately, as soon as the work began, a closer inspection revealed that a very serious miscalculation had been made. The old walls were not stable at all but were actually teetering on the verge of collapse. The mortar holding the stones together was little more than loose sand that could be scraped out with a ballpoint pen. This problem became especially critical because the structural engineer, had misunderstood the Architect’s intentions and designed his structure using the existing walls for support, with the assistance of reinforced concrete “inserts” to help transfer some of the wind loads. This solution was not just dangerously optimistic. It was destined to fail.


The site very quickly degenerated into a chaotic fiasco. The excavation revealed a total lack of foundation for the old walls. So not only would the walls have to be carefully dismantled and rebuilt, but new foundations would have to be designed, involving long construction delays and enormous extra costs.


The Contractor Wally Cairn had already invoiced Aboud an additional $1.5 million, for work performed to date in dealing with these complications. He had, after all, based his quote on the assurance by the Architect and the Engineer that the existing walls were stable. He was starting to worry that this project might lead to his financial ruin.


To Aboud, the extra costs threatened to make the venture economically unsupportable. He was left with no choice. In the name of Craigfell Holdings, Danny Aboud, as president & sole shareholder, served a claim against the Contractor Wally Cairn, the Civil Engineer Scott McLore, the Structural Engineer Frank Cullum, and the Architect Bartholomew Roberts.


Aboud’s claim asserted that, the Architect’s negligence had caused the construction costs to double, creating an untenable situation. The ruins that had been declared safe by the Architect and Engineer turned out to be extremely unsafe. In fact, in order to avert certain disaster, the existing walls were being completely dismantled and rebuilt, stone by stone. This was a particularly daunting and expensive task because the Municipality, in granting permission for the work, had stipulated that each individual stone had to be replaced in its original position. The projected costs of completing this operation would be horrendous. With a few added allegations of errors and incompetence, along with business losses, reputational loss, and exemplary damages, the claim totalled a little over $3 million.


Our plans for defending against this claim now looked to be about as reliable as the teetering fortress walls. Our work was cut out for us.



A date for Pre-Trial Discoveries was set. The defendants exchanged pleadings and defence positions among themselves.


General Contractor Wally Cairn’s defence was straightforward. He had bid on Roberts’ drawings and specifications, and as far as he could see, site conditions had created circumstances for which he had no liability—a view that was, incidentally, highly debatable, since he should also have examined the site before submitting his bid.


Civil Engineer Scottie McLore’s defence was a little trickier, but it helped to explain how seasoned professionals might decide that a crumbling wall might be perceived as structurally sound. 


McLore hadn’t actually examined the structure.He had been asked to just drive by, look at the general state of the old stonework and issue a reassuring letter—a sort of bureaucratic manoeuvre. He had assumed that Roberts, the heritage expert, had already done a close inspection. There was no way that $1500 would buy a guarantee of the structural integrity of the existing stonework. But he would have to face it: Some of the liability was going to be his.


Structural Engineer Frank Cullum was also claiming complete innocence. He had relied on McLore’s letter as a confirmation of the soundness of the existing structure. No one had told him it was just a $1500 drive-by. And Roberts had failed to advise him not to rely on the existing walls for structural support, even with reinforcement. We couldn’t argue with his line of reasoning.


Pro-Demnity Counsel felt that our best defence would be to accept that Architect Roberts had made a grave mistake in assessing the strength of the wall, without performing a close inspection, but it was one that any Architect, even one claiming special expertise, could have made. Unfortunately, the two experts we contacted for advice told us that the dry and unstable nature of old stone walls exposed to Nova Scotian coastal weather was well known. Any plans to use the walls for even light load-bearing duty was foolhardy. Unless they were completely reconditioned, they would crumble.


It was beginning to look like our defence might suffer the same fate.



Discoveries provided little, if any, benefit to us, except to confirm that most of Aboud’s losses, as calculated by his accountant, were based on conjecture rather than fact. Any court would quickly discount most of the unprovable “consequential” damages, business losses, and so on.


Another indirect benefit was the opportunity to weigh the relative strengths of the plaintiff’s and the defendants’ presentability on the stand. Aboudwas a force to be reckoned with—a combination of business sensibility and personal charm, he would be more than a match for any lawyer cross-examining him on business matters. The Architect Roberts was cut from very different cloth but, in his own way, extremely convincing—cultured in manner, elegant in attire, and professional, straightforward and honest in presentation.


But, we still had to deal with the reality that, on technical issues, the facts were arrayed against us. The walls that Roberts had “approved” without proper examination needed to be rebuilt by hand, stone by stone. There was no way of escaping the fact that he had made a serious mistake. And as much as he might claim that he had simply relied on his Engineer, the Engineer was claiming the exact opposite.


A mediation took place a few weeks later, in a large cross-examination room provided by a court-reporting firm in one of Halifax’s newer office towers. It was one of the coldest days in recent history. The parties from out of town were grateful for the covered subway and bridge system that connects the city’s downtown hotels and office towers. Those who chose to stay on the outskirts arrived too cold to think. 


It didn’t help that our meeting room looked out onto a depressing view of a frigid harbour, whose only maritime activity consisted of a ferryboat that plodded continuously back and forth across the grey horizon.


The defendants had arrived first, and were assembled around the boardroom table, trying not to display their restrained gloom. We all knew that we were not there to establish innocence or guilt, but only to decide how much each of us would have to pay. 


The plaintiff Danny Aboud arrived with a flourish, dominating the room immediately. He slipped effortlessly into the role of smiling host, shaking hands all round and exuding a mood of optimism and geniality. Together with his counsel, who was equally affable, the two displayed the confidence and charm of a pair of celebrities. Our sense of restrained gloom was, at this point, turning to impending doom.


When, at precisely 9 a.m., our mediator, retired judge Justice Eve Portsmith, made her entrance, a reverent hush descended on the room. Justice Portsmith had a reputation as a no-nonsense adjudicator who dealt with blustering lawyers and litigants firmly. Her method was to read and summarize each mediation brief, cut through to the essence of the positions taken, and to expertly deflate trial lawyers, as needed.


Justice Portsmith dispensed with the preliminaries and went through the positions of all the litigants, one by one, offering no extraneous commentary or opinion. Her restatement of the plaintiff’s elaborate case was a masterpiece of literary precision.


In cases like this, where the facts speak eloquently for themselves, the defence has to avoid the appearance of scrambling, by relying on a series of techniques, to vigorously defend the architect.


First, look for legal loopholes, such as errors in the pleadings—mistakes in the names of corporations, conflicts of interest, exceeded statutory and contractual limitation periods, etc. 


Second, blame it on the plaintiff’s actions, such as interfering with the work, failure to follow the Architect’s advice, and/or general lack of credibility.


Third, turn on the co-defendants, by blaming the Engineers, the Inspection Company, the Soils Consultant, the Contractor, and anyone else anywhere near the job.


Finally, attack the quantity of damages. Whatever the plaintiff is claiming, is wholly unrealistic, a cash-grab, or an unlawful attempt at enrichment for unproveable losses.



All of these defences were applicable to some degree, and were pleaded, but there was no hiding the simple fact that the building, as designed and bid, could not be built.


When it was Danny Aboud’s turn to speak, he orated eloquently about his love for historic buildings and his pride in serving the public, his delivery accentuating his passion and nobility of purpose. He described how he had arrived in Canada as a penniless immigrant and had struggled to build his business. As for the current situation, he had trusted and respected his Architect, and in fact, respected him still, despite the unfortunate catastrophe he had created. The enormous charge for extras that he had received from his Contractor as the result of having to start rebuilding the stone walls, one stone at a time by hand, had virtually bankrupted him and robbed him of his dream. He doubted that he would ever fully recover.


Justice Portsmith showed not the slightest flicker of emotion, during this oration, but Aboud’s performance would be a tough act to follow.


The defendants wisely elected not to speak, counting on their written briefs to say all that could be said.


Seeing that the defendants had little in common, Justice Portsmith sent each co-defendant group to a different caucus room, to negotiate with each of us separately.


In our private caucus, Justice Portsmith informed us that she had reached a figure that the plaintiff would accept, and suggested that we should swallow 50% of it. She would try to get the other defendants to come up with the balance, collectively. It was her view that a court might decide that the Architect was the sole cause of the loss, since his special expertise in historic buildings was well known and relied upon by everyone involved. We pointed out that the Engineers and the Contractors had all seen the walls prior to construction and should have some liability. That, said Justice Portsmith, is why you are only 50% responsible. Her suggestion was that we contribute $400,000. We tentatively agreed, without committing ourselves, pending acceptance of this arrangement by our co-defendants.


We waited close to three hours, our only entertainment being the steady plowing of the ferry back and forth across the harbour, under leaden skies. For most of the time the room was silent, awaiting the return of Justice Portsmith.


When at last Justice Portsmith returned to our caucus room, she described her efforts in persuading Aboud that his best result 

would be to settle today before spending another $150,000 in legal and expert costs, in the hope of getting maybe a half-million dollars, which was all that would remain after trial expenses were deducted from any additional damage awards. After two hours of debate, Aboud had given in to Portsmith’s and his own counsel’s advice and accepted. It was Justice Portsmith’s custom to dispense with shuttling between plaintiff and defence parties with offers and counter-offers. Her technique was simple: we could take it or leave it.


We accepted, and we all filed back into the boardroom, where the ever-affable and smiling Danny Aboud, greeted us with an invitation to join him at one of his restaurants for dinner. Aboud’s total absence of disappointment at getting only half of his “minimum demand” was a bit surprising. We regretfully declined. We had planes to catch.

Gravity and the laws of nature are powerful forces. A ruin may look steadfast, having endured for centuries. But lean on it and it may crumble beneath you. Even experts sometimes forget this, to their great chagrin.


For the rest of us, there are a few major lessons to take away from this story:


Lesson #1: In dealing with heritage structures, special treatment and special consultants are required. Inspections must be taken seriously, and great care must be taken at all times.


Lesson #2: Specialists and consultants should be retained by the client, and not the Architect.


Lesson #3: As the professional, the Architect is expected to coordinate their work with other advisors on a project.