Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, March 10, 1993 TAG: 9303100202
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Ed Shamy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
A DREAM DEFERRED BY DUST
From the time the Hotel Roanoke closed its doors in 1989, the suspense over the joint's future built almost daily. The cheery optimists chirped. The financiers eyeballed. The pessimists pooh-poohed. The contractors salivated. Money squirted in. Deadlines loomed.In a final year-end burst, Joe and Josephine Bagodonuts dug deep into their recession-lean pockets for the 11th-hour gush of money that put the deal within reach. The tale of grandeur that led to decline that led to despair that led to hope that led to a crescendo only Shakespeare could have penned approached its climax on Groundhog Day.
The financing - $40 million in all - was in place, it was announced those five weeks ago.
We were ready to rumble.
We were Jiffy Pop fully cooked ready to burst at the foil seams. We were nine months of pregnancy. We were the whistling, hooting mob at a striptease.
The pent-up desire sought relief; excited gasses prepared to blow.
We were ready to consummate this marriage to our future that had so preoccupied us through three autumns.
It would take a wrecking ball or a bulldozer. A jackhammer.
So long we'd stared at the darkened hotel, bare light bulbs in a back stairwell the only flicker of life from within, we craved action.
Then we could detonate our desire and, finally sated, get down to the business of grousing about the inconvenience of it all.
Days passed without action. February turned to March.
The customary security van parked out front. The bare light bulbs to the rear.
We would have settled for a circular saw. The whine of a power drill. A belt sander.
Here we are, March 10. We haven't heard so much as the tap of a ball-peen hammer.
What's wrong? Is the city having trouble finding a heating, ventilation and air-conditioning company owned by Aleutian amputee homosexual women to buy off the politically correct posse?
Not yet.
The wait, says Dave vanBlaricom, is on account of asbestos. Used liberally in old construction projects, it causes lung cancer and has to be removed before any renovation can begin.
The city won't issue a building permit until the asbestos removal plans are cleared by the state, said vanBlaricom. He's the project manager for Faison Associates, which is a project developer along with Virginia Tech and every taxpayer in the United States of America.
The state let pass a 20-day spell as public notice on these asbestos plans.
We're well into the 20 days now and a low bidder has been chosen to rip out the asbestos, said vanBlaricom.
Meanwhile, architects have been snooping around inside the old hotel, but the scratching of their pencils is hardly what we had in mind when we anted up $40 million over three years.
There are soil samples being taken near Wells Avenue and Jefferson Street. Trash is being removed.
Soon, the tacky indoor pool along Wells Avenue will tumble.
That'll make some noise. Some dust. Our long wait will be over, our big deal consummated.