ROANOKE TIMES

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

DATE: THURSDAY, March 10, 1994                   TAG: 9403100183
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: A-1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: By GREG SCHNEIDER STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: RICHMOND                                LENGTH: Long


LOTTERY'S BIGGEST VICTIMS

This time last year, John Hadjis was patrolling the counter in his\ sandwich shop, selling lottery tickets on one side and subs with extra olive oil on the other. Most of his customers wore the dark suits of Richmond City Hall (across East Broad Street) or the blue blazers of pages at the General Assembly (across 9th Street).

Now Hadjis sits at home with nothing to do and the purple scar of a quadruple heart bypass on his chest. He has lost his business - and, he believes, his health - to the very forces that sustained it:

He was operating his shop on the spot where the General Assembly decided to build a $20 million state lottery building.

Because of the lottery building, five merchants, including Hadjis, have been evicted from state-owned property. Because of the lottery building, the state lost $60,500 in annual rent from those merchants.

Because of the lottery building, another half-block of blighted Broad Street is devoid of commerce. Because of the lottery building, the only pre-Civil War storefront in that section of Richmond is to be demolished.

Because of the lottery building, Republicans were able to accuse Democrats of wild spending and picked up seats in last fall's elections.

But because of politics, the lottery building is not being built. Republican Gov. George Allen refused to authorize the construction debt.

So the only result of all this will be a vacant lot.

``The question could very well be asked, `Did we have the foggiest idea what we were doing when we did this?' And the answer would have to be, `We did not,''' said Del. Jay DeBoer of Petersburg, one of the few Democrats who opposed the lottery building. ``It was a complete failure. A complete and absolute failure.''

It started as one of those deals where everybody is supposed to win: The state would save money by owning a lottery headquarters instead of continuing to rent in the suburbs, and Richmond would get more business downtown.

Jimmy Hawthorne, whose father started a local dry-cleaning shop in 1944, watched with interest as the lottery building struggled for life in last year's General Assembly session.

The Hawthornes had leased a storefront from the state for nearly three decades, right across 9th Street from the Capitol. Virtually every legislator trusted his or her dirty laundry to Hawthorne.

Funding for the lottery building faltered, at first, so Hawthorne figured his lease was safe and went ahead with remodeling plans. ``We painted, fixed the wall, laid down new carpet, redid the counters, cleaned up, fixed up. We did a nice job,'' Hawthorne said. ``I guess it was just stupidity on my part.''

A few months later, he was evicted.

Democrats had managed to get the lottery building into the state budget during a special session of the General Assembly called to consider bills vetoed by the governor.

Ted Markow, selling flowers in the business his great-grandfather founded in 1922, was oblivious to the political wrestling. Markow's Florist had been in the state-owned building on East Broad Street about 14 years. Its original location was demolished to make way for the Sixth Street Marketplace, a downtown shopping area now struggling to survive.

One day last year, a legislator came in to buy a bouquet and mentioned that Markow was about to face another relocation.

``At that point, I wasn't upset or mad or anything,'' Markow said. ``I figured they would probably look after us to some extent. We'd been moved by the government before and there was assistance.''

But because Markow didn't own this property, the state had no reason to pay his moving expenses. He estimates he lost about $70,000. And he went from eight full-time employees to two.

Vera's, a beauty salon in the same block, relocated to a smaller shop after 15 years near the Capitol. Vera Fitzgerald had to cut her work force from six employees to two. ``It's almost like losing a home and having to start over again,'' Fitzgerald said.

``The whole thing is sad,'' said Hawthorne, ``because you had some businesses that had been there quite a period of time, they were doing well, and they certainly were paying taxes. And what do you have now?''

What you have now is a series of old storefronts with gutted interiors. The oldest was built in 1853 and is one of the few that survived the burning of Richmond in 1865.

The state Department of Historic Resources wants to preserve the structures - or at least their facades - but demolition appears inevitable.

Richmond's city government has asked the state to replace the buildings with a small park. Del. Robert Ball, a Richmond Democrat with a great deal of control over the state budget because of his position as House Appropriations Committee chairman, says he will see to that wish.

``We're going to pull them down and fill in the hole and put up a little tree and some grass,'' he said.

At a cost of about $612,000.

Of course, a vacant lot makes it much easier to one day resurrect some kind of state office building. Republicans would love to see the Democrats try.

In last fall's elections, ``virtually every Republican challenger'' made the lottery building a waste-in-government issue, said Scott Leake, director of the Republican Caucus. ``I don't think it single-handedly beat any [Democrat], but it changed the margins on a number of races.''

``Damn right it did,'' agreed Democrat Howard Copeland, a Norfolk delegate who supported the lottery building. ``It came up and came up and came up until they tried to ram it down my throat ... But I did the right thing. I cannot regret that.''

One who can regret it is Hadjis, 57. After 19 years selling insurance, He had put his life savings into the Sub Station II restaurant. Now he and one of his sons - who has three children of his own - are unemployed. Hadjis had a major heart attack less than four weeks before the shop's closing day in September. He blames it on the stress of losing the business.

Though Hadjis weeps openly over his predicament, he won't speak ill of the process that put him there. He remains a lifelong, contributing Democrat. And over the front door of his empty store still hangs a Virginia Lottery banner that reads: ``What's Your Lucky Number?''

``I sold a lot of tickets,'' Hadjis says with a smile. He may yet sell more, if he can find a new spot for a restaurant. ``All this, it's just politics. Just the way it goes sometimes.''



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