DATE: Saturday, September 27, 1997          TAG: 9709270020

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B9   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Opinion 

SOURCE: Kerry Doughtery 

                                            LENGTH:   70 lines

CITY THAT BANNED LOUD CAR RADIOS WELCOMES ROARING JETS NO MATTER HOW HARD CITY OFFICIALS TRY TO MUFFLE THE NOISE FACTOR, MANY MORE VIRGINIA BEACHITES ARE GOING TO BE HOARSE TRYING TO MAKE THEMSELVES HEARD OF THE SOUND OF FREEDOM.

I grew up the daughter of a real estate broker, and I have never forgotten my father's motto, cliched as it is, that there were only three things that matter when buying property: location, location, location.

Or, as someone else once advised me: Maintain a fashionable address, even if you have to live in the attic.

The truth of my dad's axiom became apparent to my husband and me about six years ago when we decided to sell our little brick house in a nice neighborhood. Our primary reason was that we'd outgrown it. But, truth be told, we were also weary of the location. The house was under the Oceana flight path and the jet noise by 1991 was deafening.

Now, I find the Navy noise zones about to follow me to my new neighborhood where I have blissfully become accustomed to peace and quiet - only sporadically interrupted by a blitz of roaring F-14s. New maps showing the expanded noise and crash zones if the Navy moves all of its F/A 18s here from Cecil Field in Florida show a disturbing pattern of take-offs and landings that seem to richochet right off our roof.

``This is the biggest thing to happen in Hampton Roads in the last 20 years,'' declared City Manager Jim Spore of the proposed expansion of Oceana.

The loudest, too.

The arrival of the F/A 18s will inarguably be a boon to our local economy. The relatively high salaries that will accompany the 5,600 new workers will raise our average income levels and infuse our community with an estimated $226 million each year.

Along with the new workers come spouses and children bringing the total number of new residents to about 12,500. That's good, too. Many of these well-educated people will subscribe to the newspaper, which is good for me. Others will find themselves needing a lawyer, which is good for my husband and ultimately for me.

But the trade-off is going to be noise. Lots of it. No matter how much city officials try to muffle the noise factor, the fact remains that many more Virginia Beachites are going to be hoarse trying to make themselves heard over the sound of freedom.

In a meeting earlier this week with local civic leaders and politicans who all agree that the F/A 18s are the best thing to happen to Virginia Beach since God made waves, the mayor implied that jet noise doesn't bother those who have lived here a long time.

I disagree. There are some kinds of noise you grow accustomed to: Muzak and the roar of the ocean, for instance. There are other noises that always grate and irritate: barking dogs, blaring music, whining children, fingernails scraping a blackboard and jets that suddenly blast out of the sky.

There is a very good reason the commonwealth of Virginia is spending millions of dollars to erect ``noise abatement shields'' along the busiest interstates: noise. State officials understand that it's stressful to live in a noisy environment and that persistent noise adversely affects real esate values.

Intensified jet noise also seems at odds with the vision city leaders have been fashioning for the Beach: retirement communities and golf courses. Nothing will mess up a sidehill putt like an F/A 18 Hornet roaring out of the clouds at mid-stroke.

City officials want the newspaper on board with the Oceana expansion, and we are. But the same politicians who passed an ordinance against booming car radios will have to admit that F/A 18s make a lot more nose than the strongest woofers and tweeters.

Pharmacies would be wise to stock up on earplugs. MEMO: Ms. Dougherty is an editorial writer for The Virginian-Pilot.

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