Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Something new under the star
Luanne Traud
Recent columns
- Marking a difficult anniversary
- My daughter, the voter
- A few new Voices would be nice
- A rush to legislate
From the RoundTable blog
In the short time we have lived in Roanoke, my girls and I have grown quite fond of Mill Mountain and its signature star.
As mountains go, we weren't initially impressed from below with this particular hill. And I'm not sure the youngest one, then just shy of her 7th birthday, even noticed the view.
As a connoisseur of all things gaudy and glitzy, she was held captive by the aura of giant neon. She busied herself deciphering the plaque to find out how such a treasure -- the largest man-made star, she read in wonder -- came to being. She had just one question, "How large was the man?"
After I stopped chuckling, I'm afraid I went into a terribly dreary lecture on the process of manufacturing performed, I'm sad to say, by ordinary-sized men.
Now that we have been here for a year and a half, I've come to realize I was mistaken. The men who placed the star upon Mill Mountain were large indeed. Larger, I suspect, than members of this community would tolerate today.
Imagine the uproar if Roanoke's merchants announced that they had commissioned an 88-foot neon star and planned by Christmas to place it atop the city's revered mountain. Few supporters would work up much enthusiasm for such a symbol of tackiness that would sorely clash with the natural beauty. Leave the mountain alone, we'd scream.
Yet, so many of us, both newcomers and old-timers, hold great affection for this star. I've found myself while in an unfamiliar section of Roanoke navigating by the star.
We've come to enjoy the way Mill Mountain looks, both from above and from below, and not just because of the star. There is something quite magnificent about a mountain within a city that belongs to the city and all of its people regardless of means, and that remains mostly untouched by development.
So it is easy for me to side with the protectionists who view any proposal to change that with a large dose of skepticism.
As a native of the Pittsburgh area, I am keenly aware what people can do to hillsides. The city bored tunnels through the rocks to form spectacular entrances into the city's core. But it also, long before Big Lick was founded, grew neighborhoods (many of which we'd consider blight) on its mountainsides. To reach my mother's childhood home, one had to climb 90 city steps from street level to a sidewalk before climbing several more sets of steps to her front door. Her neighborhood no longer exists, nor does that hillside, having been knocked down to accommodate a parkway. It is difficult to look at the remaining scarred hills and envision the raw beauty that Mill Mountain still possesses.
I mention Pittsburgh simply because it was invoked last week as a city that has taken advantage of its views during discussions about Valley Forward's vision of a restaurant and hotel on Mill Mountain. Yes, one can ride the incline and, yes, one can, if one can afford it, dine at the finest restaurants Mount Washington has to offer.
The view is indeed spectacular, perhaps more stunning than offered from our star's overlook, but it isn't as accessible as Mill Mountain's. Nor can it be experienced from an outdoor bench without urban sounds intruding upon the visual landscape.
It isn't a destination. The members of Valley Forward seem to understand as well as any the value of Mill Mountain. They don't wish to detract from the respite enjoyed by hikers and picnickers or from the wonders of children caught in the glow from the star or visitors captivated by the view or lovers by each other.
Instead, they wish to find a way that embraces what we have and then enhances it. They propose a venue that would bring more people more often to the mountain and allow them to stay longer to soak in its wonders.
They've poured a lot of thought and talent into presenting a vision that blends with the mountain. But what they propose is change. Are we large enough to consider it?
Traud is a member of The Roanoke Times editorial board.
