While speaking with some golfing buddies recently at his Bedminster club in New Jersey, Donald Trump reportedly complained that the White House was “a real dump.”

A small-by-Trump-standards brouhaha ensued and the president, as he does several times a day, denied he had ever said such a terrible thing. On Twitter, he cried “fake news” and called the White House “one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen.”

Dump or not, the White House is currently in the midst of a mini-renovation, a 17-day construction blitz to replace aging air conditioning, make structural repairs, renovate a kitchen, paint some rooms and install new carpets. That’s the main reason Trump cleared out of Washington last week for Bedminster and his “working vacation.”

Back in the 1940s, the White House really was a dump. When Harry Truman took over as president, he complained that the second floor “sagged and moved like a ship at sea.” After his daughter’s piano fell through the floor of the private dining room and the building was deemed to be in danger of collapse, the White House was completely rebuilt at great cost.

In Ottawa, there’s no construction drive underway at the official home of the prime minister at 24 Sussex Drive. In fact, nothing much seems to be happening there at all.

The house has been vacant for almost two years now, since the Harper family moved out. Meanwhile, official Ottawa has been trying to work out what to do with the big stone structure overlooking the Ottawa River.

Justin Trudeau and his family have taken up residence in Rideau Cottage, a very comfortable 19th century home on the grounds of Rideau Hall, which was recently modernized. (Not really a cottage. I’m sure they’re not suffering. Nor should they.)

So what’s going to happen to 24 Sussex? The house clearly needs substantial work. In 2008, the auditor-general at the time, Sheila Fraser, warned that the building needed more than $10 million in repairs to make it safe. There was asbestos in the walls, the electrical system was a fire hazard and the place was leaking both air and water like a sieve.

For crassly political purposes, Stephen Harper decided to ignore the warnings, figuring that it would look better on him to appear to be living modestly in a crumbling mansion than to invest wisely in protecting the taxpayers’ property. Pretty irresponsible, but it suited the know-nothing, anti-government mentality of Harper’s supporters to a tee.

Unlike the White House, 24 Sussex does not double as the office of a head of government. Traditionally, it has been a private residence where the prime minister occasionally greets the odd foreign dignitary for an intimate meal or a private conversation. But it could be more than that. Unlike the White House, 24 Sussex does not double as the office of a head of government. Traditionally, it has been a private residence where the prime minister occasionally greets the odd foreign dignitary for an intimate meal or a private conversation. But it could be more than that.

Things got bad enough that when it was time for the Trudeaus to move in, they opted not to. My suspicion is that the Liberals, aware of the sensitive politics around these issues, aren’t in a hurry to fix 24 Sussex either, for fear of being accused of spending millions of dollars on nice digs for Justin, Sophie and the kids.

Soon after 24 Sussex was emptied, some former residents began to argue that the old place should be torn down. Maureen McTeer, who lived there for nine months when her husband Joe Clark was prime minister, complained that the house had no “architectural value” and should be razed and replaced with something new and shiny.

It’s true that when the government bought 24 Sussex in 1950, it stripped much of the interior and removed a lot of the Victorian elements from the façade, as was the fashion at the time. But buildings, even grand ones, change over time; you don’t just rip them down because they’ve lost some of their pristine original elements.

Unlike the White House, 24 Sussex does not double as the office of a head of government, crammed with bureaucrats and journalists. Traditionally, it has been a private residence where the prime minister occasionally greets the odd foreign dignitary for an intimate meal or a private conversation.

But it could be more than that, says Ottawa heritage architect Barry Padolsky. It could be used both as a home for the PM and his family and for official functions — or it could be used solely for official functions, leaving the prime minister at Rideau Cottage.

What concerns Padolsky above all is that nobody seems keen to make a decision. On its website, the National Capital Commission is vague, saying that it is “planning a long-term rehabilitation project to ensure that this valuable heritage property remains in optimal condition. The work will continue in years to come.”

The NCC seems to have decided against demolishing the place. According to the Plan for Canada’s Capital 2017-2067, made public recently, the NCC said 24 Sussex was one of six planned milestone projects for the capital.

It promised to “renew and transform the prime minister of Canada’s official residence. Once completed, the residence will integrate modern security features to protect the prime minister and visiting dignitaries, and enhance both the official state and the private functionality of the residence; it will also incorporate universal accessibility features. Unique heritage characteristics will be preserved and aspects related to environmental sustainability will be improved.”

When will this happen? The NCC doesn’t say. And the precedents aren’t good. The former U.S. embassy, a historic building on a prime location across from Parliament, has been vacant for two decades. It was supposed to become the home of a portrait gallery; Harper nixed the idea because it came from the Liberals. He preferred to keep the place a shuttered eyesore. Only recently has Trudeau announced that it will become an indigenous cultural centre.

Down the road from Parliament Hill, the West Memorial Building has been empty for almost a decade. Last month, the government announced that it will become the temporary home of the Supreme Court of Canada when its historic building closes in a few years for a $1 billion renovation.

We should be looking at 24 Sussex in the same way — as a historic building in need of a lot of necessary work. It may be the home of the prime minister but it’s not just a political perk. It belongs to all of us. Let’s hope it’s fixed up sometime before 2067.

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