Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, May 5, 1990 TAG: 9005050286
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A3 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Ed Shamy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
The Jefferson Street leg of the Hunter Viaduct closed promptly at 6 p.m. Friday, as advertised.
We sent it off in style, 150 or so of us did. We scaled the 'duct from Salem Avenue to Williamson Road and back. Jim Baldwin played the bagpipe for us, and we stepped to the cadence of his sweet and somber songs.
We reminisced a lot, about the day that road opened, 33 years, 10 months and 3 days ago; about traffic; about Roanoke; and about ourselves.
We went to bury the viaduct and to praise it.
It sounds silly, I know it does, even to me. How could anybody get upset over 600 feet of steel girders and concrete?
But in the end, the viaduct farewell walk wasn't a bad way to spend that warm and overcast Friday afternoon. Maybe it gave us a chance to bury the hatchet.
That stroll, that viaduct, and those people represented the best of Roanoke (hopefully still to come) and the worst of Roanoke (hopefully behind us).
The decision to demolish the four-lane stretch of elevated roadway sparked emotional, often rancorous debate.
Emerging as winners were those who would clear out the road to make way for a new building - 18 or 20 or 19 stories, have they decided yet? - and a parking garage.
Others disputed that. They fought to spare the viaduct.
The dissenters didn't have a prayer. The business community and the city wanted this building so bad they could taste it.
Many of the dissidents were elderly, or getting there. None was a seasoned City Hall fighter or particularly articulate.
The debate, such as it was, was healthy. It caused pro-tower forces to articulate their vision for Roanoke.
Still, the dispute was troubling.
Bob Herbert, the city manager, dealt with each complaint respectfully.
But there were others in the community who performed a great deal less humanely under pressure, rookies in the gentle art of hearing out and dealing with dissent. They cast the opponents as a band of woeful obstacles to progress and vitality.
The pro-tower forces attacked an undermanned and heavily outgunned opponent with the savagery of a cornered beast.
I hope they are more tame during the next, inevitable, round of debate.
When the viaduct opened, it was hailed as a marvel of technology, the cutting edge of highway construction. Somewhere in the crowd of onlookers at a ribbon-cutting, no doubt, a 35-year-old man held a kid on his shoulders.
That kid is 35 years old now. The man is pushing 70. To watch, in one lifetime, a highway proclaimed as a marvel and then damned as an outdated nuisance is almost too much to accept.
That's a lot to ask of a single generation.
Perhaps we have reminded our 70-year-old dads and moms that they are not eternal. Maybe these elders have good reason to mourn the road's passing. They mourn themselves as well.
Roanoke is changing, but the future we predict so often doesn't include them.
It is a bright future. Downtown Roanoke has grit, and it continues getting better and more pleasant in spite of tremendous odds that favor strip malls.
Friday's viaduct stroll was a good time for thoughts like these:
To wish Henry Faison good luck with his building.
To vow to cherish, and not to disdain, dissenting voices on future tussles.
We sent that viaduct off in style, we did.
Jim Baldwin set down his bagpipe and picked up his bugle and blew "Taps" for us.
There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Well, maybe a couple.
by CNB