Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, May 4, 1995 TAG: 9505040058
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CHRIS HENSON
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
There are the malls, which close around 9 o'clock. The new Teen Center on Brambleton closes at 10:30, which is kind of like having midnight basketball at noon. And there's Williamson Road if you like to cruise. You know, wax your fenders, crank your stereo to a throb, drive up and down and congregate for a few seconds at the stop lights.
But where can a kid go on a late summer night to talk with friends and, like, hang out?
For a lot of teens it's the Roanoke City Market. And, while the kids will tell you they are not bad people, the city police are keeping an eye on them.
"I like to hang out with my friends and goof off," says Stephanie, 16. "I'm not causing trouble, OK? Just because we have weird hair and clothes doesn't mean we're evil."
She says "evil" like this: "EEEE-vil."
True enough, the hundreds of high school- and college-age kids who populate the streets downtown on Friday and Saturday night are hardly run-of-the-mill.
They are the rave kids and punks and body piercers. They laugh loud and gawk at those wacky adults hitting the bar scene. They have oddly colored hair and dark gritty clothing. But that doesn't make them The Children of The Corn.
"This is where this girl wrote, 'I love you, Mark,''' one fellow says, pointing to his ink-covered forearm. "And then someone wrote 'Yummy' here and made a smiley face."
Danny has his head shaved to look like Henry Miller. There's nothing left but a half circle of hair running ear to ear via the nape. He is pleased with it and invites everyone to rub his scalp.
There's a guy with a bright red halo of curls who's push-starting a moped. Allen is being swung by his arms and legs by four friends. Four other kids try to fit into one sweatshirt at the same time.
Big Lick Bohemia.
But here's the deal on these coffee-quaffing anarchists. Most of them have good credentials, excel at school, hold down jobs and care about "what's going on."
"Ask me about the people down here," says Joel, a senior at Franklin County High School.
"We're not bad people," he says. He points out that he's in a school production of "My Fair Lady".
"I've got, like, thousands of dollars in scholarships for college next year," he says.
"Yeah," chimes in his friend Russell. "I made dean's list at Hargrave Military Academy."
"I just got inducted into the Honor Society at Christian school," adds Katie.
"I mean, we're all friends down here," says James, 21. He's one of those in thrift-store finery with a bush of dread-locked hair and what may someday be a beard. "Communication is extremely important. We're kids ... we need to interact."
"Yeah," says Stephanie, "If you go over to Williamson Road the dudes drive by and hang out their windows and shout, 'YO, GIRL!' That's the extent of it. I just don't find that interesting."
Hanging out with friends seems to be the big draw downtown for these kids. They talk about their music, skating, school and each other.
Many also complain there's nothing else for them to do. They appreciate the community they have in Roanoke, but long for big-city culture where you don't have to be 21 to get in.
They do have suggestions. A skateboarding park is No. 1. And an alcohol-free venue for them to hear bands is close behind.
Jason, a tattered and likeable punk, has the big picture in his shaved head. "They could have coffee and a smoking room and a smoke-free room, art, poetry ... and coffee ... and it would be free. That's what we need."
Does Jason think taxpayers should foot the bill?
"I pay taxes," he says. "I'm getting $92 back! I was supposed to get like 300 bucks back, but mom claimed me as a dependent."
Sarah, a downtown employee, says an evening can be made for the price of a cup of coffee.
"I just like to sit and make fun of people," she says. Sarah has had a run-in with the law. "I was sitting on one of the vending tables and a cop told me to get off. I guess people don't want to buy vegetables where butts have been."
"The city has to sand blast [the tables] once a month," says Officer Ollie, of the Roanoke City Police. "Some of these kids write messages and draw satanic emblems and things on the concrete tables."
Ollie, a regular on the weekend downtown beat, says there are some problems with the growing crowds in and out of the bars.
"You've got the youthful element down here, they're under 18 and there's really nothing down here for them," he says. "The only businesses that are open sell alcohol, and they can't go in. So they're not down here promoting business. They're not spending any money, they're taking parking spaces from legitimate customers."
Officer Ollie isn't just concerned with commerce, however.
"I worry about these kids hanging out where people are getting intoxicated. You have a juvenile down here and some drunk guy bumps into him, and you've got an altercation. Somebody will get beaten up."
Has it ever happened?
"No," says Ollie, and his voice becomes serious, "but it only has to happen once."
The kids don't feel they are any more of a problem than the drinkers who whoop it up.
"We're just hanging out and talking with our friends," says Jason, the taxpayer, "just like all the drunks are in the bars. They're talking to their friends. Except, we never fight."
Stephanie agrees. "They can come and drink beer. I think that's fine if they don't hurt anybody. I mean, drink if you want, that's not what I'm going to be doing with my life.
"A designated driver would be nice."
by CNB