Light the disco cross by KRISTIAN GRAVENOR So there are crucifixes in city hall and councillor Marvellous Marvin Rotrand rightly pointed out that religious symbols have no place in local government hall. Fine. So dump ’em. But has anybody noticed that we have a 103-foot crucifix towering over the city? You might have seen it; it’s the big white thing on Mount Royal flanking the red lit antennas that look like Satan’s pitchfork. There’s a brainshaking fact that you probably don’t know about our cross that I’ll reveal to you if you promise not to blame me for any concussions or seizures that ensue. But first, some context. When Jack Cartier hopped off his boat in 1534 at this last-chance landing before the Lachine Rapids, he immediately planted a cross, sorta like the American flag on the moon. In 1642, a nasty flood receded on Christmas Day, so Governor de Maisonneuve praised the Lord by hauling a big cross atop the mountain. In 1924, the St-Jean Baptiste society got 85,000 school kids to sell 25 stamps each at a nickel apiece and with the profits they built the electric-light bearing cross that was supposed to get a granite covering that nobody got around to putting on. The Jean Baptiste folks gave the cross to the city in 1932 because the darn bulbs kept burning out and the electric companies reneged on a promise to provide free juice. The gift came in exchange for a promise to keep it lit at all times, so for years city workers would ascend the cross in a basket hoisted by pulleys to change the bulbs. In ’86, Mayor Drapeau planned to replace the cross with a similar one 10 times the size but he didn’t. His successor Jean Doré instead paid $300,000 to replace the lighting system on the cross with fibre-optics that would reduce the lightbulb expenses from $34,000 to $2,000 per year. And oh yeah, since then, at the flip of a switch the cross can turn red, blue, purple or white. The colours were meant to help celebrate our city’s 350th anniversary in 1992. But it was only lit once for a few minutes during a test run one evening in April ’92. Since then the cross has stayed white. Why? According to the Pierre Tassé, whose company Tassimco Inc. installed the lights, the colourful cross remains unknown to us because, “It wasn’t authorized by the city as there were objections from the archbishop.” Traditionally, the cross only changes colour—to purple—when a pope dies, something that hasn’t happened since ’78 but could happen again soon. Yet our local Catholic officials deny any knowledge of ordering that the cross remain white. Indeed, Cardinal Jean-Claude Turcotte, Archbishop of Montreal, told me this week through his press rep that the Church doesn’t oppose a coloured cross. Rejane Helmy, the engineer who oversaw the renovations, says the cross is just as brilliant in colour, and thinks it was vetoed because journalists mocked it as the “disco cross” from the get-go. The disco association might have hit a raw nerve to then-mayor Doré, whose personal style suggested that he was no stranger to revving a Trans Am while wearing a largely unbuttoned shirt. Yet all it would take is a flick of a switch in the room at the base of the cross to turn it blue for St-Jean Baptiste Day and red on Canada Day. I’d pay $20 if they’d make it flash multi-coloured on Eddie Cochrane’s birthday. So who’s against a coloured cross? Robin Philpot, a St-Jean Baptiste Society rep, says they don’t mind. Former mayor Pierre Bourque never considered flipping the switch because he only found out about it when I told him this week. Even Heritage Montreal doesn’t mind a coloured cross. “Changing the colour of the cross has some historical roots, although we should keep it for a limited number of statements,” says Dinu Bumbaru. So enough waiting, colour the cross now. : Comments? kgravy@cam.org.