Imagine stepping into a time capsule that whispers stories of new life, medical pioneers, and a bygone era. That’s exactly what’s about to happen with the former Salmon’s Maternity Home in Prinsep Street, Singapore. Once a bustling hub for childbirth, this historic building is set to be transformed into a museum, commercial school, and café, blending the past with the present in a way that’s both nostalgic and forward-looking. But here’s where it gets controversial: while some celebrate this adaptive reuse, others argue that not fully conserving the building is a missed opportunity to preserve a rare piece of Singapore’s medical history. Let’s dive into the story behind this iconic structure and the debates it’s sparking.
For retired architect Tia Boon Sim, the building holds deeply personal memories. As a child, she vividly recalls climbing a staircase adorned with mosaic tiles to meet her baby sister for the first time. Years earlier, in November 1955, Ms. Tia herself was born within these very walls. Completed in 1950 and operational until the 1980s, Salmon’s Maternity Home was more than just a hospital—it was a place where families began. Yet, Ms. Tia hasn’t stepped inside since 1962, the year her second sister was born. Instead, she’s returned as the founder of Urban Sketchers Singapore, capturing its essence through art. Soon, she may finally get to relive those memories up close, as the building prepares for its new chapter.
But this is the part most people miss: The building isn’t just architecturally significant; it’s a testament to the contributions of private healthcare pioneers like gynaecologist S.R. Salmon, who built and ran the hospital until his death in 1984. His daughter, Dr. Yvonne Marjorie Salmon, a veteran gynaecologist who never married, called this place home until her passing in 2020 at the age of 94. Her legacy includes 44 years of service at Kandang Kerbau Hospital (now KK Women’s and Children’s Hospital), and a private clinic registered to the same address until at least 2004. Their stories are woven into the very fabric of this building, raising the question: Shouldn’t more of it be preserved?
In May 2025, the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA) approved plans to repurpose the space, with a museum and café on the first floor, a commercial school on the second to fourth floors, and museum storage on the fifth. This decision came after a 2021 rejection of a restaurant proposal due to parking concerns. Here’s the twist: The 2025 application was approved because the developer agreed to reduce the café’s scale and add parking spaces. But is this enough to address the building’s historical significance? URA has granted only a one-year temporary permit for the café, leaving its long-term future uncertain.
Developer Chow Kum Lock has shared that the museum will showcase old medical books and artefacts, though details remain scarce until 2026. Meanwhile, a video by artist Wesley Leon Aroozoo reveals a building frozen in time, with vintage medical equipment, a “Birthday Room” complete with a delivery bed, and an Otis lift with grille doors—the very one Ms. Tia remembers. These elements, along with mid-century modern tiles and sanitary fittings, are rare treasures, according to heritage experts like Ho Weng Hin of Docomomo Singapore. He argues that the building’s intactness and rarity make it a prime candidate for full conservation, not just partial retention.
And this is where the debate heats up: While URA has no plans to conserve the building, they’ve guided the developer to retain some heritage elements on the first floor. But is this compromise enough? Ho Weng Hin calls the building “the flip side of the same coin” to the recently gazetted Kandang Kerbau Hospital, representing the private sector’s role in Singapore’s post-WWII baby boom. Heritage blogger Jerome Lim echoes this sentiment, urging that at least one room be preserved intact to tell the site’s story. After all, how often do we get to step into a 1950s medical facility that’s barely changed?
As the building prepares for its new life, the question lingers: Are we doing enough to honor its legacy? Should more be done to conserve it fully, or is adaptive reuse a practical way to balance preservation with progress? We’d love to hear your thoughts—do you think this iconic structure deserves greater protection, or is its partial preservation a fair compromise? Let’s keep the conversation going in the comments!
