Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, October 14, 1995 TAG: 9510170002
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-7 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MITCHELL L. MENDELSON
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
But just as Shakespeare's rose wouldn't be changed by calling it something else, the name of this monstrosity won't change what it is (a hopelessly overblown boondoggle) or what it represents (an exercise in civic egoism at huge taxpayer expense).
In a sense, though, we should be grateful for this enormous structure - and so should the city's many tourists. By tying together the First Union Tower and the new, improved Hotel Roanoke and Conference Center with an architectural thumb in the eye, city leaders have effectively lumped three of Roanoke's most egregious examples of bad architecture in close proximity. Visitors wishing to study huge, domineering exemplars of '80s corporate egoism (First Union), hilariously clumsy hodgepodges of mismatched styles and treatments (conference center), and ridiculously overbuilt and wasteful public "improvements" (the bridge) may now do so within a range of a few short blocks. Even as we speak, the city tourism agency should be composing new brochures: "Come to Roanoke, Bad Architecture Capital of Virginia!"
Folks who are blissfully unschooled in the ways of public finance might think the city squandered $7 million for an overbuilt pedestrian bridge when the money could have been put to better use elsewhere - schools, a further sprucing up of the City Market, more police officers to fight what appears to be a slowly but steadily rising level of violent crime and drug activity, or aid to local poverty agencies in the face of state and federal welfare "reforms." But the money used for the bridge was "transportation" money, meaning it had to be used for a transportation project.
All right, let's talk about transportation projects. A pedestrian crossing above the Norfolk Southern tracks downtown was needed. And suppose a decent, functional, appropriate and (dare one say it?) modest pedestrian bridge could have been built for, say, $1.5 million or even $2 million. What transportation projects could have been accomplished with the remaining $5 million? How about eliminating the truncated stub of the old Hunter Viaduct, whose blunt end and rusting undercarriage are an eyesore to pedestrians crossing the new bridge? A simple resurfacing and refurbishment of the Williamson Road bridge between Campbell and Wells avenues would immediately improve transportation in Roanoke. Couldn't transportation funds be used to find a suitable purpose for the old Norfolk & Western passenger station? Or add a sidewalk to Wiley Drive, the city's only "greenway," where walkers, runners and bicyclists must take their lives in their hands when they share a narrow strip of pavement with motorists. Without belaboring the point, Roanoke has a number of small-scale transportation needs that could have benefited from at least some of the gusher of public cash that was lavished on this spare-no-expense pedestrian bridge.
Take a walk across it sometime. Look at the ceilings high enough to accommodate tractor-trailers and a superstructure that could carry an armored column. Notice all the elaborate railings, multiple entrances, glassed-in observation platforms, the polished, shopping-mall-like atmosphere. It fairly reeks of overspending - and all this would be funny if it weren't our money that politicians, architects, engineers and contractors overspent.
In every age, architecture expresses the values of its society. So what does this gaudy behemoth express about the Roanoke of 1995? That the spirit of giantism, which plopped huge, overbearing office towers in a charming downtown that seldom rose above four stories, still holds sway with those who hold the public's purse. That "showpiece" projects still excite civic leaders out of all sensible proportion to their usefulness. That Roanoke's civic leaders have a poor sense of what's really important in this city, and of what sort of face Roanoke should turn to the world.
And on a related subject, I wish those who are wringing their hands and gnashing their teeth about youngsters with bad manners and odd costumes on the City Market would try to pull their heads out of their shopping malls and suburban isolation wards long enough to realize what a public space is.
When a city creates a public space - as Roanoke has done so well with the City Market area - the public is what you get. And that includes kids in punk regalia, as well as pasty-faced suburbanites who gasp in horror at the sight of a nose ring or a shaved head. The glory of the market, in this walled-in, malled-up age, is its ability to thrive as an urban public space. That means a space for the public, come as it may.
Mitchell L. Mendelson lives in Roanoke and is a former print journalist.
by CNB