A clear sign of our reopening
Until 2013, a large stone ring stood amongst the tropical foliage in the Garden Court of the Bank of Canada’s head office. It wasn’t a sculpture—it was a Yap stone, giant stone money from the island of Yap in the Federated States of Micronesia. Our Yap stone has been with the Bank for 38 years, longer than all but a handful of employees—12 at last count. I had been at the Currency Museum for barely three months myself before a flatbed truck, a huge crane and a dozen men in helmets and safety vests took the Yap stone away. For us, its removal from the Garden Court dramatically marked the Currency Museum’s closing. The big stone’s return now performs the opposite role for the new Bank of Canada Museum—heralding its opening.
For those of you unfamiliar with our Yap stone, or for that matter, any Yap stone, below is the artifact’s exhibition label as it appears in the Museum.
This impressive stone disc is actually money from the Pacific island of Yap. “Rai,” as these stones are called, range from a few centimetres high to four metres high. This is the largest-known rai outside of Yap. It likely stood upright in the ground outside its first owner’s house. When traded, a rai did not move—it simply changed ownership. Rai were quarried on the island of Palau and taken to Yap on rafts, crossing 500 kilometres of open water. The difficulties of this journey contributed to the rai’s value. Although rai are still occasionally used for culturally significant exchanges, the official currency of Yap is now the US dollar—a somewhat more portable currency.
The Museum’s Yap stone is one of the few rai that actually did move (several times, as it happens) and on 3 June 2017, made what we hope will be its last journey for a very long time. It came home to the Bank.
In the last week of May, two of the great curtain windows were removed from the side of the Museum entrance pyramid to allow the Yap stone to be lowered onto its place: a small pedestal just below street level beside the stairs leading down to the Museum. When I arrived early on the Saturday morning of installation, the window frames had been removed but there was no sign of the stone. I quickly discovered that what was adequate clothing for a morning bicycle ride was inadequate for standing around waiting for a truck to arrive. Your stalwart correspondent then resorted to hopping around to maintain circulation until a big, red flatbed truck rumbled up to the curb. Occupying one half of the trailer was a tall, wooden crate: the guest of honour. On the other half was a curious machine: a cross between a crane and a forklift. It looked entirely inadequate for the task at hand, but proved itself admirably when it swung into action an hour later. First, though, the flatbed trailer did this amazingly graceful transformation. The bed split in half and the end section slid forward and tilted back while the wheels were pulled towards the truck. It wasn’t as if it turned into a giant robot on rollerblades, but the effect was pretty cool, nonetheless. After the crane rolled onto the sidewalk and the trailer returned to its regular shape, three or four burly men began pulling the crate and its supporting frame apart. And there it was, our Yap stone.
Although the big stone’s final placement was a subject of much debate, the entrance pyramid was always designed with the installation of the Yap stone in mind. Because of an awkwardly placed lamp post, however, the process of placing the stone had to be done in two stages. The crane couldn’t operate directly in front of the stone’s pedestal, so the stone had to be inserted through one frame of the window and temporarily placed on the top stair landing. Then the crane turned itself around and hooked up to the stone through the neighbouring window frame to allow the big disc to be swung into place without hitting any support columns.
Follow me carefully, here:
So smooth and quick was the whole installation process, that a lot of planning had clearly gone into it. It appeared as if it had been rehearsed, in fact. As a spectator sport, it was worth getting up at 7:00 on a Saturday morning to watch.
Like the robins of spring, the return of the Yap stone to the Bank heralds a new beginning: the opening of the new Bank of Canada Museum. The big stone disc has been placed at the top of the stairs as a sort of welcoming gate keeper that will again become as familiar as any Ottawa landmark. For us it is like the return of a long-lost friend.
Retaining the landscape format but showing human activity and intervention transformed the imagery into an extended portrait of Canada and Canadians.
During World War Two, the Bank created the Foreign Exchange Control Board (FECB). One of its major tasks was to find as many US dollars as possible to pay for American imports.
Economic bubbles continued to pop up regularly throughout history, and still do today.
In heritage conservation, broken metal objects can be reassembled with an adhesive most commonly used for repairing glass and ceramics.
Used extensively in the 19th century, this type of hand-operated press printed secure financial documents using the intaglio method.
How on earth did an “S” with a line or two through it come to represent a dollar? Any ideas? No? That’s OK, you’re in good company.
In 1977, the Royal Canadian Mint wanted to reduce the size of the penny in response to the rising price of copper. Little did the Mint know that the Toronto Transit Commission’s reaction would force the cancellation of the program.
The printing firms’ design teams went to work and came back with a surprising result: vertical notes.
The life expectancy of a two-dollar paper note was about a year. But coins can last for more than 10 years.
Successfully counterfeiting a bank note in the mid-19th century required an engraver with reasonably high talent and very low ethics.
Instead of bragging about our visitor statistics and the popularity our programming (both great!), we’ll talk about what’s coming up for early 2019.
As in any siege, Mafeking quickly began to run short of most things, not the least of which was cash.
The size of the 1-cent coin was reduced to save on the cost of copper. At the same time, there were proposals to mint Canadian coins out of cheap and abundant nickel.
In Canada playing cards were used as form of emergency money at a time when the colony constantly suffered from a shortage gold and silver coins.