Sunday, May 18, 2008
Where's Congress hiding now?
Christian Trejbal
Recent columns
- Making sense of local elections
- Voters have only themselves to blame
- Money flows freely to local candidates
- Candidates contemplate a little big-box store
From the RoundTable blog
My friend John is moving to Liberia in a few weeks. He'll work for a nonprofit helping improve the Liberian legal system.
Of all the places he might want to visit before he leaves, he chose one both obscure and cool. He called me from Washington a couple of weeks ago.
"Guess where I'm going Saturday. I'll give you a hint: It's in West Virginia."
I thought about it. What could he want to check out in West Virginia? No offense to the Mountain State, but it doesn't burst with attractions, and John isn't the sort to check out battlefields or strip mines.
I hazarded a few guesses that landed wide of the mark. "OK, where?"
"The congressional bunker under The Greenbrier. Want to meet me for the tour?"
That's how I wound up driving over a few mountains, along a gravel road, past a Confederate flag or two and across the Virginia-West Virginia line multiple times a week ago.
It's not a drive for the faint of heart, or at least for the faint of stomach. The views from Route 311 are spectacular, but the road winds back on itself like a Möbius strip.
The Greenbrier is day-trip distance from the New River Valley, and it's a good thing. Most people cannot afford to drop $400 or more per night on a room, especially these days.
Tell the guard at the gate that you are there for the bunker tour, though, and he will wave you right into the opulence.
John and I met in the hotel lobby's gaudy clash of pastels. We only had to fend off the headache-inducing décor for a few minutes before we boarded the bus for the once-secret entrance to the once-secret bunker.
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A quick bit of history.
The bunker was built between 1959 and 1962, during the height of the Cold War. It was where Congress could hide from nuclear fallout.
The executive branch has its own bunkers where Vice President Cheney hunkers down whenever Osama bin Laden sneezes, and maybe the Supreme Court has one, too.
Congressmen could have reached The Greenbrier quickly by highway, rail and air. The surrounding mountains provided additional protection, and because no one knew it was there, fallout would be from far away.
Plus guards could secure the golf course from radioactive zombies.
A crew of specialists disguised as Greenbrier telephone technicians maintained the 112,000-square-foot, two-story facility. They made sure dorm rooms, congressional chambers, the cafeteria and so on were ready in case Congress ever literally fled for the hills. There was room for every senator and representative, and each of them could bring one aide. About 100 on-site support staff filled the rest of the bunks.
The bunker never saw service. The Cold War died down, and, in 1992, The Washington Post revealed its existence. Without the shroud of secrecy, it became useless as a secret congressional getaway.
It hasn't been mothballed, though.
Today, it's something to see. The Greenbrier hits up visitors for $30 to take the 90minute tour of a site the public was never meant to see.
A lot of the bunker remains secret, too. It is now CSX-IP, a secure data storage business. The data is so secret that we had to hand over cellphones and cameras before entering the bunker.
Walking the windowless, cold hallways, Cold War paranoia oozes from the walls. The only thing thicker in the air back in the day would have been the cigarette smoke.
The question, of course, is where is Congress' bunker today?
It might be closer than anyone realizes.
There is only one place the new bunker could be, somewhere close enough to the Capitol, served by air and highway, and surrounded by mountains. It needs a top-notch golf course nearby and should be low on terrorist target lists.
Yep, there is only one place that meets all of those criteria: Under the Smart Road in Blacksburg.
The timing makes sense. It would have taken Congress a few years to approve funding and plan a new bunker after the 1992 exposure. The Smart Road broke ground in 1997. All of that "research" is perfect cover for the bunker's staff. Maybe the occasional limo with darkened windows or low-flying black helicopter is not so innocent.
Maybe it's Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi coming to check out her accommodations in the New River Valley.
The Greenbrier kept its secret for 30 years; Blacksburg has 20 more to go.
Trejbal is an editorial writer for The Roanoke Times based in the New River Valley bureau in Christiansburg.
