CANADA : Montreal’s $1-Billion Stadium

A generation ago, when Montreal was preparing to host the Olympic Games, the mood was “anything goes” here in the world’s second-largest French-speaking city. To herald what looked to be a bright future, the organizing committee settled on a triumphant stadium design.

The roof would be 200,000 square feet of boldly tented Kevlar--the same high-tech synthetic fabric used to make bulletproof vests--suspended by cables from a unique, curving tower. On clear days, the roof could be hoisted up into the tower, so that fans could enjoy spectacles under the open sky. Sixteen years after its Olympiad, Montreal is stuck at the wrong end of a mood swing. The economy is winning no medals; no one knows whether the surrounding province of Quebec will secede from Canada. And, alas, the state of the 59,771-seat Olympic Stadium still uncannily reflects the city’s sense of itself. The stadium is in such wretched shape that one Montrealer suggested to a local newspaper that it be dynamited as a “grand finale” to the city’s 350th birthday celebrations this year.

Trouble at the “Big O,” as the oval-shaped stadium is known, arose early on. Construction workers went on strike, and authorities put off anything non-essential to the Games. That included the roof, since the Olympics are traditionally held in the open air.

After the Games, a commission was impaneled to decide whether to go ahead with the roof. Chairman Jean-Claude Marsan felt it was “ridiculous” to install an untested fabric roof in a city where snow can drift 15 feet deep. But his colleagues preferred the original plan.

Politics settled the question. The Big O stood in the working-class, Francophone east end. Polls showed French-speaking Montrealers wanted the somewhat romantic roof, tower and all. Minority Anglophones--who tend to live on the city’s better-off west side--weren’t much interested in the roof.

The nationalist Parti Quebecois was in power in the province at the time, and it couldn’t very well side with les anglais . So the bulletproof roof was in.

Marsan, himself a Francophone, explains the dispute in terms of traditional power relationships here. Historically, the Anglophones had the money, the business connections, the opportunities. The French speakers were shut out.

“The French-Canadians are a minority (in North America) and don’t control the real things,” he said, “so they find themselves some satisfaction in dreams.”

Building the roof took another 10 years and cost millions of dollars. And no sooner was it finished than it began to rip. Since completion in June, 1987, the Kevlar has torn seven times, usually because of bad weather.

When the Big O has had to be closed for repairs, exhibitors and teams--including baseball’s National League Expos, who will host the Los Angeles Dodgers here six times this season--have threatened to sue for their lost income. Stadium management has always considered preventive maintenance--running about $9,000 a day--a bargain compared to litigation.

As the repair bills mounted, wisecracks circulated. Of course, the Big O came to be known as the “Big Owe.” Marsan says the stadium’s total cost by now is more than $1 billion.

After one rip last year, an international inspection team saw no reason why the roof wouldn’t tear ad infinitum. Repairs went ahead anyway.

Last fall, without warning, a 55-ton concrete beam dropped off the Big O, landing on a pedestrian walkway. No one was hurt. A shutdown and inspection were ordered, but trade show organizers threatened to sue. In November, the Big O was declared safe and reopened.

Oddly, the division of opinion hasn’t changed in 10 years, despite all the problems.

“There was a poll last fall,” said Marsan. “English people said, ‘Please, just destroy it.’ The French-Canadians said, ‘Let’s try again.’ ”