Chris Berry On The Net

I’ve taken to walking recently, in part to counteract the inevitable weight gain and the mind numbing boredom that come along with months of unemployment. I try to walk anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours each day, and I’ve developed a favorite route that I take at least 3 times per week. From my front door to the Market Square is a 35 minute walk. It’s a straight shot down Jefferson Street from the northernmost fringe of South Roanoke to the heart of downtown. The round trip, including a brief rest stop and a cool drink, takes roughly 80 minutes and covers 4 miles.

It’s very easy for me to get lost in my own thoughts, so I don’t always pay much attention to my surroundings while I walk. Something was different yesterday, however, and as I passed by all of the familiar sites I was acutely aware of the incredible sense of connection that I felt to so many of the landmarks along the way. It was also a reminder of all of the changes that have taken place in the past few years, and of how much still needs to change.

From my front porch, the first new thing I can see is the monstrosity known as the Fairfax Condominium. It is a 5 story structure that combines 3 floors of overpriced condos built on top of a two-level parking garage. It casts an overwhelming shadow on the surrounding neighborhood, and it is the kind of building that architectural historians will certainly regard as a tour de force of faux stucco and Styrofoam appliqué. We used to be able to see the 4th of July fireworks from our front yard, but this behemoth structure now blocks our view entirely. Most of the units in the building are sold, but it appears that very few people have actually moved in.

As I pass by Roanoke Memorial, I can still pick out the 7th floor window in the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit where my wife spent 8 days in August of 2006 following her second heart attack. She was only 41 at the time, and our son Robert was 17 months old. She is fully recovered now, but that was a very frightening time in our lives.

Walking over the first bridge on Jefferson Street, I stop at the top to take in the view from both sides. On my right is the first of two newly completed parking garages that are part of the ever expanding Carilion presence, along with Roanoke’s own bridge to nowhere. The bridge was completed earlier this summer as part of a greenway extension project, but for now the path ends abruptly where it meets a stone wall. It’s one of those things that just leaves you scratching your head in bewilderment.

From my vantage point I can also look down on the Honeytree daycare center that Robert has attended for the last 3 years. It has been incredibly convenient having such a wonderful facility within walking distance. I’ve always been concerned about the high rate of staff turnover, but it is no worse there than in the daycare industry as a whole. In spite of the fact that the teachers are overworked and underpaid, the care he has received has always been loving and attentive.

From the other side of the bridge, 4 new playing fields occupy the site where Victory Stadium once stood. On this day, 3 of the 4 fields are filled with kids playing soccer, as are all of the fields across the river on Wiley Drive. It seems to me that these playing fields will probably be more appreciated by the community than any crumbling stadium or shiny new amphitheater. Looking across the playing fields, I am also reminded of the old Roanoke Fair where my mother won Best In Show in the needlework competition in 1967 and 1969.

At the corner of Jefferson and Reserve Avenue stands the new Carilion Clinic building. This area has undergone a rapid and dramatic transformation in the past couple of years, but it is still very much in a state of transition. On one side of the street are several new medical and office buildings, and on the other side stand the abandoned hulks of the old flour mill and scrap yard. I can understand the desire by Carilion and by the Redevelopment and Housing Authority to have this area transformed into something shiny and new, but I haven’t quite come to terms with the idea of driving existing businesses out of the city in the name of economic development. Mennel Milling provided exactly the kind of solid blue collar jobs that the city so desperately needs, and we paid them millions of dollars to abandon their facility and move to the county.

At the next intersection stands the burned out Virginian Railway Station. Since being destroyed by fire in 2001, this crumbling shell of a building has served as a pitiful reminder of the past that many in Roanoke cling to so desperately. A sign in front indicates that fundraising efforts are underway to restore the building as a museum, but so far no efforts have been made to stabilize the crumbling structure. Does Roanoke really need 3 railroad museums? No one under the age of 30 has any recollection of Roanoke as a railroad town, and that’s probably a good thing. Eventually all of those people who insist on living in the past will die off and we will finally be able to look to the future.

Another block down Jefferson brings me to the new Ambulatory Surgical Center, and as I look ahead I realize that almost every building from there to Elm Avenue represents a major milestone in my life. The Jefferson Plaza building houses the office of Dr. Robert Slackman who helped us to finally conceive a child after many years of failed attempts and heartbreaks. Two doors down is Physicians to Children where Dr. Allen Eskenazi has seen Robert through a variety of typical childhood illnesses. In the same building, Dr. Lynn Keene provided prenatal care during Jennifer’s high-risk pregnancy, and next door at Community Hospital she saved our son’s life during a difficult labor and delivery when he repeatedly cut off his own oxygen supply by clenching the umbilical cord in his fist. We watched helplessly for hours as the monitor showed his heart rate dropping from 120 beats per minute to 15, and then climb back again as he let go of the cord. Hopefully I will never again experience anything that frightening.

Standing at the intersection of Jefferson and Elm, I hear music coming from Elmwood Park and see the thousands of people who have come out for the Latino Festival. Across the street stands the 707 Building where I suffered through a root canal at age 12 after breaking off my left upper incisor at the gum line. It seems hard to imagine now, but there was a time when that building was the boldest example of modern architecture in downtown Roanoke.

The next block is dominated by the forlorn and abandoned Patrick Henry Hotel. I remember as a very small child being dragged by my mother into the tiny yarn shop that was just inside the Bullitt Avenue entrance. We were probably never there for more than a few minutes at a time, but it seemed like an eternity to me. Thinking of this reminded me of the fact that my mom eventually opened a shop of her own in Salem, and later relocated to the Promenade Park shopping center on 419. Over the years, Needle on the Square went through several changes of ownership as partners passed away or retired, but last week the store finally closed after 28 years in business.

The new Social Security office building across from the Patrick Henry looks like it is going to be a handsome addition to the downtown area. After years of wrangling, I‘m glad that they finally settled on this location instead of Henry Street. The dilapidated motor lodge that stood on the site previously was definitely a blighting influence on the area, but you have to wonder what became of the people who called it home.

Further down Jefferson Street I come across all of the vacant store fronts that still dominate the former retail heart of the city. I stopped to take a peek in the windows of the old Heironimus building and I am bemused by the assortment of weird crap that seems to have been left behind by the operators of the long defunct Emporium. In spite of all the revitalization efforts underway, there is a 2 or 3 block stretch of Jefferson that remains very depressing.

I take a left on Church Avenue and head toward the City Market. There are a handful of sidewalk diners at Trio, but for the most part the area looks dead. The majority of the shops and restaurants are open, but the Market Building is locked up tight as a drum. Workers are busy setting up a stage for a speech by President Clinton later in the evening, and a sign on the sidewalk encourages Blues BBQ Company customers to try their special Slick Willy Shooter. Behind the Market Building, Salem Avenue is closed for repaving, and the entrance to Roanoke Valley Printworks is even more inaccessible than before.

Before heading back home, I spend a few minutes wandering around the market area, and I am amazed by the fact that there are thousands of people in Elmwood Park, and not a single market vendor has bothered to come out for the day. I’m also surprised by the fact that there was no apparent Secret Service presence even though a former president was scheduled to appear in a few hours.

I followed the same route back home, and when I reached the top of the railroad overpass on Jefferson I see the towering Cherry Hill condominium building that had neighbors up in arms when it was originally built. Everyone seems to have gotten used to it by now, so maybe in a few years we will get used to the Fairfax as well.