ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, January 23, 1994                   TAG: 9401250278
SECTION: EDITORIAL                    PAGE: D3   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: TRACEY A. KELLY and TODD A. BLEVINS
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long


A TALE OF TWO REFUGEES

AS RECENT cultural refugees who have defected from Charlotte, N.C., we feel it necessary to respond to praise recently heaped upon that city by NationsBank Chairman Hugh McColl.

We fled to Roanoke to escape the improved quality of life touted by this renowned financial leader. As longtime residents of Charlotte all too familiar with the consequences of its economic boom, we feel compelled to offer Roanoke's citizens and leaders a different portrait of the Queen City.

Financial and industrial growth may be advantageous for the Roanoke area, but it should not come at the expense of Roanoke's already established character. McColl's approbation for Charlotte is based solely on its mercantilism. Beyond the obvious financial advantages afforded by the attraction of professional athletics, he neglects to address the failure of such purely commercial endeavors to produce a deeper cultural growth within the community.

Charlotte suffers from what can only be deemed ``corporate myopia.'' This inflexible focus on financial growth has proved dangerous, if not deadly, to the cultural authenticity of the region. For all its economic success, Charlotte has failed to nurture and protect its own unique identity.

Charlotte is not a new city. For example, Queens College, a private liberal-arts college located in prestigious Myers Park, was founded in 1857.

However, innumerable facelifts have erased nearly all signs of the city's age. A few lonely historical markers stand beside busy thoroughfares to recall a past that has been totally eclipsed by the rush to create a glossy, upscale habitat for affluent financiers.

The rapid commercial growth of the city has engendered in its leaders and populace a penchant for the ``new and improved.'' The uptown area provides startling evidence of this phenomenon. This forest of shining glass and steel skyscrapers has buried any evidence of what Charlotte once was.

Charlotte's historical integrity has been bulldozed to make room for these monuments to corporate success. The city is an exclusively financial playground, becoming a virtual ghost town with the conclusion of every business day. It offers little to lure a greater cross-section of the community into its sterile and generic confines to shop, eat or be entertained.

The embarrassing failure of City Fair, a multimillion-dollar retail plaza, proved the inability of this business district to attract even members of its own community outside of regular working hours.

Recently, a friend visiting Charlotte from the West was given the grand tour of this emerging metropolis at 8 on a Friday evening. He could only remark, ``Where are all the people?'' We were reluctant to admit Charlotte is a city boasting a population of more than 1 million.

To further compound the bifurcation between Charlotte's thriving business community and its larger, more diverse populace, the rapid financial growth of the area is dramatically widening the gap between the haves and the have-nots.

McColl, in this newspaper and in a speech to the Roanoke Regional Chamber of Commerce, was quick to commend what he deemed the profound improvement of Charlotte's quality of life, citing the recent acquisitions of National Basketball Association and National Football League franchises, and erection of the Blumenthal Performing Arts Center.

These ``improvements'' may be enjoyed by Charlotteans of McColl's financial stature, but remain elusive to the majority of the population. For example, the Blumenthal's christening performance by Isaac Stern, the universally acclaimed violin virtuoso, was available only to those who could afford season tickets.

To further illustrate Charlotte's narcissistic veneration of its commercial success, even the opening of a renovated strip mall has become an occasion for ostentatious celebration. Tents and cocktail tables were assembled, champagne flowed, and the jubilant strains of a string quartet flooded the parking lot crowded with VIP's invited to this black-tie gala.

In the frenzy of its economic growth, all that was once authentic in the city has been lost, including the humility of its people. In its desperate clamor to qualify itself as a progressive, competitive and culturally viable city, Charlotte has transformed itself into a national joke. Most recently in the Philadelphia Inquirer, an article lambasted Charlotte for the absurdity of assuming it had achieved world-class status on the singular basis of its newly acquired professional football team.

Roanoke Valley residents should accept McColl's praise for Charlotte's economic growth with a heaping tablespoon of salt and healthy dash of skepticism. What Roanoke lacks in commercial value, it more than makes up for in the strength of its cultural identity.

We were lured to this valley refuge by the genuine character of its community, and its obvious pride in its traditions and history. Roanoke may not have captured an NBA or NFL franchise, but since when did such dubious distinctions become the benchmark for judging a community's worth?

Downtown Roanoke teems with life. It is an inviting meeting place for all members of this diverse society. Where Charlotte is rapidly developing its exclusivity, Roanoke continues to nurture its inclusive character.

The Market Square stands as a testament to Roanoke's historical authenticity and vibrant community spirit. Had Charlotte been possessed of such a unique commercial entity, it would have been razed and replaced by a trendy new retail extravaganza ironically named ``The Market Place.''

Although Roanoke should not impede future commercial expansion, it should remain wary of the negative cultural ramifications associated with such growth.

Of Roanoke it can be said that still waters indeed run deep. When Charlotte examines its own social torrent rushing toward economic success, it does so only to admire its own reflection.

Having experienced the reality of McColl's financial vision, we do not wish Roanoke ever to become ``another Charlotte.''

\ Tracey A. Kelly and Todd A. Blevins of Roanoke are, respectively, a writer for the CBS daytime drama ``The Bold and the Beautiful,'' and a Spanish-accounts representative with the BankCard Division of First Union National Bank.



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