Anyone who grew up in the Sudbury region carries an attachment to the Superstack of varying degrees, and I suspect a love-and-hate relationship with it, too. The structure elicits both nostalgia and disdain.
We all understand that it emitted immense quantities of sulphur dioxide and a host of other pollutants. Yet it also represented the industrial prowess upon which our region was built, the copper-and-nickel alchemy that helped thousands of Sudbury families prosper for generations; paying mortgages, filling lunch pails and sending children to university.
"When the smoke was coming from it, it meant jobs and people working," recalls Leo O'Connor.
A haze in the air
Before the Superstack, Sudbury's air carried a bitter tang, a sulphurous haze that painted memories in yellowed edges.
"I remember living on Tedman and going out to play and there would be sulphur fumes visible on the street," Michel Roussel recalled.
For children like Anne Marie Gauthier, that haze was an ever-present companion.
"I remember walking to St David's School on Jean Street with a wet facecloth over my mouth some mornings because the sulphur was so thick and yellow/green."
"There were days we weren't allowed outside for recess because of the poor air quality," writes reader Bill Petryshyn.
The West End offered a vivid classroom for learning the effects of pollution.
"Remember sliding your hand across the hood of a car to grab a handful of wet snow for a snowball? In the West End we could do that in summer for a handful of yellow powdered sulphur," Dennis Tagliabracci remembered.
"Recess was cancelled some days and I recall school being both let out early and remaining closed on bad sulphur days. My dad changed the soil in our garden every so often with soil from the farm because he knew about the toxins in our soil. The women would run to take in clothing from the line ... because the wind changed direction. My late wife worked for an insurance adjuster that handled the INCO fallout claims for damage caused to cars from acid rain. After a rain every puddle had a yellow rim around it."
The giant takes shape
From the ground, it seemed almost impossible to imagine a structure stretching 1,250 feet, higher than any building in the region. Yet the men who built it approached each day with a mixture of precision, pride and quiet trepidation.
Jerry Villemere, employed by Dominion Bridge, recalls the repetitive but exacting labor.
"(I) hauled the pieces of the liner into the stack," he said. "We would drive in the base and the crane would pick off the piece of liner and it would be welded in place. We would go load another piece and do the same."
Ron Roy emphasized the scale of both work and the risk.
"Worked on this project with (the) Ironworkers Union. Tying rebar on the outside ring. Came on board at 750' and topped it off at 1249'," Roy said. "(I) took shelter behind the Copper Cliff arena when the hurricane (of August 1970) blew through while on the way to start the day." Unfortunately for others, he added, "the night shift (was) stranded on top. No power to get them down."
Jack Johnston, a tour guide during the early years of the Superstack, recalls being regaled with a story from one of his visitors.
"I had one of the workers in my tour group, and he told his story ... nobody was going to jump ... they held hands and laid down flat, watching full sheets of plywood rip up and sail away."
Robert Flintoff provides a glimpse of the sudden, terrifying power of nature that day.
"I was halfway up, until the twister hit. Got down to the bottom after the power came on and resigned."
Meanwhile, down on solid ground, Terry Zanetti recalled, "We lived two houses away... . There were men on top of the stack when it hit. I had walkie-talkies and they were on the same frequencies as theirs. A lot of yelling went on that day."
From the perspective of those living nearby, construction was simultaneously awe-inspiring and unsettling. Scott Webster remembers the constant vibration. "Every truck load of gravel came from a pit out near the airport (and) passed within 50 ft of my bedroom window during the building of the stack."
The construction of the Superstack also carries familial pride. Shar Carlson noted, "So proud of my Dad, he put the lights on the stack."
In the shadow of the giant
Once the Superstack pierced the Sudbury sky, it became a defining presence, casting its influence over the daily rhythms of the city and its residents. For families and workers alike, life unfolded in its shadow.
For years, I remember being outside in the summertime, in my hometown of Coniston, and as day turned to dusk, watching the Superstack slowly cleave its way through the centre of the tangerine-coloured setting sun. For me, this remains the absolute epitome of a "warm memory," as the dusky glowing hue felt amplified by Sudbury's own Wonder of the World reaching into the atmosphere.
For some, the Superstack was woven into the everyday measurements of weather, mood and expectation.
"Growing up and seeing the stack out the window was what I would look at to see if the day was going to be cold or warm," Mel Anne said.
M. Mak, who watched the stack rise from their bedroom window as a child added that "if you saw the plume curling down the south side ... in January, you likely would not be having a pleasant day."
As I got older and became more historically minded, I craved more knowledge of the Superstack and its place in the Nickel Belt. It was one of the first steps toward the regreening of Sudbury. In fact, you might say that environmental recovery was the Superstack's gift to the region.
Leo O'Connor remembers it as "INCO's first step in the greening of Sudbury," while Darlene Powell marvelled at how "the once-scrawny trees in my parents' front yard had shot up in height since the Superstack was put in operation."
Bill Petryshyn adds that, "Not just the skyline changed. The air quality in the Sudbury area dramatically improved. As a kid I really appreciated the improvement."
For those living in its immediate vicinity, the Superstack was an unavoidable companion. Kathy Wells-McNeil remembers, "I grew up in the shadow of the stack for over 20 years. I remember the SO2. It was just something that happened. And I remember getting a free paint job on my car because the acid rain would damage the paint."
Gordon Wainman added to this, recalling the post-stack diligence required for maintaining appearances: "I buffed out every car on the lot at Campbell Chevrolet (on Frood)...to take out the acid rain etching, you had to get on it right away...and that was after the stack was put up."
The Superstack, while mitigating the worst of the sulphur fallout locally, did not erase the trace entirely.
The Superstack also became a navigational anchor. "I always told [my kids] that if they got lost to head toward the Superstack, that I would be there to greet them back at the base," Carmen Huggins recalled.
Wally Moran shares a similar sentiment. "I remember coming north from Southern Ontario on Highway 69, and seeing the Superstack in the distance... . It was the first reminder to me that I was coming home." And Jeanna M. Aimee remembers standing up in the car to shout, "'I see the smokestack! I see the smokestack!' knowing we were close to my mémère and pépère's house."
For pilots, it became a navigational marvel. David Walton shares: "Back in the 1970s I was flying from Timmins to Toronto in a Beaver, and we followed the smoke from the stack all the way to Toronto. It went across Lake Ontario to Ohio."
Mary Springer Schmidt recounted the difficulties in her experiences as a tour guide as the Superstack was dispersing Sudbury's pollution to a wider area.
"I remember telling the tourists how great the smokestack was now because the sulphur was gone, but then I had one tourist who challenged me," she said. "He told me we were just sending it all down south to Parry Sound. I had not heard that and didn't know how to answer him. I hoped no one else would challenge me. We were supposed to talk about how great the smokestack was."
As, Bill Petryshyn added, "not much thought was given (locally) to where that endless stream in the sky was ending up."
A giant legacy
Time, as it always does, changes all things, and even giants are not immune. The Superstack, having ruled the Sudbury skyline for decades, eventually outlived its original purpose.
Stricter emissions regulations, advances in smelting technology and the regreening of Sudbury meant that the gargantuan chimney was no longer required to carry sulphur dioxide high into the atmosphere.
"It served its purpose," M. Mak wrote in to say. "We were able to re-green the city because of it, but I am happy to see it coming down."
From a symbol of industrial might, the stack transitioned to a monument evoking a mixture of nostalgia, awe and melancholy.
"Its memory should be preserved in some capacity, but our city is no longer the poster-child of environmental devastation that it was when the chimney was constructed," Matthew Gill said. "We have outgrown the Superstack, both culturally and architecturally."
For Dee Carter, the Superstack was an emotional touchstone. "I'm really going to miss the Superstack," she said. "For me, it's always been the CN Tower equivalent of the north. There's nothing like it. It truly is special, if anything, as a marvel of engineering."
The decommissioning has prompted reflection on its purpose and legacy as well. Denise Trenaman emphasizes this.
"It did its job; its day is done" she wrote. "There is no shame in decommissioning a piece of obsolete industrial equipment. I'm sure many are very sad to lose this monument representing the industry that put Sudbury on the map. I'm sure there are lots of people happy to see it gone, seen as representing a massive source of pollution."
But for others, the loss is keenly felt. Beverly Guthrie calls it "a sad day," and Marc Pleau notes, "Northern Ontario will never see such a tall structure again. It allowed Sudbury to heal and get green again."
In its final years, the Superstack has become a symbol of duality: both past and progress, memory and moving forward. Its presence has given the city a distinctive identity, and its removal offers this opportunity for introspection, an occasion to celebrate Sudbury's achievements while honouring the lives and labour intertwined with its existence.
From a historically sentimental perspective, when the Superstack's time watching over us is through, and that tangerine orange glowing sun sets behind its remains for one final time, I (and many other Sudburians) will be there to watch.
"Sadly, our skyline will never be the same without the Superstack looming on the horizon," Kory Daoust shared.
See you again in a couple of weeks for another stroll down Memory Lane.
Jason Marcon is a writer and history enthusiast in Greater Sudbury. He runs the Coniston Historical Group and the Sudbury Then and Now Facebook page. Memory Lane is made possible by our Community Leaders Program.