The brick-and-limestone sentinel has changed with the times, while its iconic, stone-capped exterior maintains its connection to the past. The Connaught Armoury’s currently up for sale — for a cool $2.47 million, if you’re interested — which seems an opportunity to explore the eras of both the armoury and one of our city’s most enduring neighbourhoods.
In 1908, the 19th Alberta Mounted Rifles — soon renamed the 19th Alberta Dragoons B Squadron — needed a home, and the federal government agreed. Land was purchased in 1909, and the Brown Construction Co. of Winnipeg won the contract in 1911, building the armoury over the next two years. It would be named for the third son of Queen Victoria: Prince Arthur, the Duke of Connaught, who would become the Governor General of Canada from 1911 to 1916.
The building was an impressive showpiece for the community, complete with modern amenities and a bowling alley graced with what the Edmonton Bulletin called “one of the best and truest bowling floors in the city.”
During the armoury’s construction, the community around it was shifting: Strathcona and Edmonton amalgamated in 1912, ending their river-based rivalry and tripling the census population. The armoury was one of many new structures building up a new, bigger Edmonton.
The High Level Bridge, the Strathcona Library and the Tipton Block were all completed around then, in a burst of investment that was cut short by the First World War. (The Dragoons would serve as the first Canadian Cavalry unit in France, among other achievements.)
Even in its dedicated military days, there was a social element animating the place. The regiment hosted balls and other community functions, and in 1913, while the Holy Trinity Anglican Church was under construction, its services were hosted in the armoury’s drill hall. (The Dragoons disbanded in early 1965, and their last act in late 1964 was to lay up their regimental colours, meaning to retire them formally, fittingly to the care of the church.)
The city then acquired the building, but it remained unoccupied — by humans, at least. For the next 14 years, its primary residents would be pigeons, coming and going through broken windows as the armoury sat in disuse, advancing into disrepair.
It was reflective of what Strathcona itself was facing: an identity crisis. The city had sprawled outwards with developments, while that neighbourhood’s growth had lagged. A 1973 report by the Strathcona Historical Group, published in the Edmonton Journal, notes that “people look upon Strathcona in contradictory ways. Some see it as a collection of run-down buildings — an eyesore that ought to be replaced. Others … view it as an area that offers variety, diversity, vitality and a heritage.”
That latter view won out. The Old Strathcona Foundation leased the armoury from the city, and in 1979, the building received a Provincial Historical Designation, protecting it from demolition. After an estimated $350,000 in renovations, it opened as the Strathcona Armoury restaurant. Head chef Henry Bachman had been named 1976’s chef of the year by the Federation of Chefs de Cuisine, but its fine dining didn’t last — the restaurant shuttered after a few years. It was replaced by a more casual restaurant called Garfield’s, complete with a copyright-defying orange cat logo. Journal food editor Judy Schultz’s 1985 assessment was succinct: “The cooking is strictly average, but you can dance.”
Garfield’s wouldn’t last, but Schultz was on to something — dancing brought a crowd. By 1986, the armoury was reinvented as Club Malibu, which, unlike its predecessors, found its crowd: the Journal’s night club review called it a “palm tree paradise” whose primary clientele were “divorcees, people in their 30s” and businessmen. However that sounds to you, business was booming.
Fringe Festival artistic director Murray Utas recalls a beach party in the early 1990s, where a portion of 85th Avenue was closed off and covered with tonnes of sand. Club owner Paul Vickers told the Journal it was for a “fundraising beach-party-come-volleyball-extravaganza.” Utas remembers it as distinctly less impressive.
“The sand stayed there for days,” Utas says, noting its condition deteriorated rapidly. It became filthy, a repository for anything people wanted to deposit.
Club Malibu was popular but contentious, fielding frequent complaints due to noise, vandalism to nearby businesses and general debauchery. There were also flashes of violence, including a fatal stabbing in 1995, that cast Club Malibu as a neighbourhood problem. The city let its lease expire in 2005 before rezoning the building so it couldn’t be a similar establishment, squashing any possibility of a new club causing the same neighbourhood upsets.
For a new direction, the city sought a non-profit tenant, promising a $1-per-year lease so long as the occupant would maintain the building’s upkeep. More than 60 applied before the building went to YESS, Youth Empowerment and Support Services, which turned the place into a drop-in centre for vulnerable youth. The armoury also gained a municipal historical designation to go along with its provincial one in 2007.
Ash Dafoe worked at YESS during its time in the armoury, and notes the building’s size was an advantage for an organization that saw significant numbers of youth each day.
“We had three floors for people,” Dafoe says. “It was very community minded. There were so many possibilities that you could be doing while in that space. It always felt busy, but never in an excessive way. It always just felt lively.”
YESS left the armoury in 2024, and the city listed it for sale in the summer of 2025. While the listing includes its rather significant parking lot space that could be built upon, the Armoury’s heritage designations ensure its survival, even as Strathcona continues to grow and change around it.
“That building could still be a pillar of the community,” Dafoe notes. “I think the building still deserves that.”
