This past Sunday the Texarkana Gazette published a special section touting this city's accomplishments during this 10-year stretch. It was called Decoding the Decade and was followed by a three-day series that continued the review of important events in timeline fashion.
In the Tuesday article, there was a short entry on the Hotel Grim that I penned a week or so earlier during a snarky snit of self-indulgence. It wasn't a long piece, but it had some attitude, something old-school journalists, except on the opinion page, are taught to scrub from their scribbles.
Even the ending-which, by the way, was a tip of the hat to a song recorded in the 1950s and '60s by Bing Crosby, Nate King Cole and the now-departed Doris Day-oozes insincerity:
"Will construction begin this year?" I ask out loud.
"Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps," I respond, stealing the song lyrics in the process.
This wasn't my first time to poke at the snail-paced Grim efforts.
Now, in my experience, those times I go smarty-pants, it usually gets tossed back in my face almost immediately.
So I should have known better.
And wouldn't you know it, on Thursday our city hall reporter, Karl Richter, broke the story online that Hotel Grim renovations were likely going to start in (dramatic pause) June! Friday's Gazette featured an above-the-fold illustration of what the hotel will look like after renovations are completed. Not surprisingly, it looks a lot like it did back in the mid-1920s when it was built and brand new.
Won't that be a sight to behold! People will sweep south past the famous federal building on State Line Avenue and into a brand new day.
About time, is all I've got to say.
I worked across Pine Street from The Grim for more than 30 years. It cast a long shadow on everything-including my view. It was still functioning in the '80s and early '90s. It even had rooms to let on the upper floors and a restaurant, bookstore and barbershop below. It closed in the early '90s, and pigeons and feral cats eventually took over.
Day after day The Grim got more grim. Facade parts and window panes began to fall more persistently. A string of good-hearted animal lovers would come by in the evenings and feed the furry herds while others asked the city to do something about the hated cats.
But within a few years of it being closed, at regular intervals, rumors of its revival rolled into public view. People with plans. People with vision. People with news releases. People who could take that decaying ruin and make it whole again.
I heard them all. I got my hopes up. They took a dive. I got my hopes up again. They crashed and burned. Again and again and again.
Like the boy who cried wolf, if expectations are raised continually with no results, all credibility is shot.
I sort of shrugged anytime anyone wanted to talk about The Grim.
Even this latest attempt, which truly seems to have its feet under it, has been in development for years. So forgive me for my sarcasm and taking a wait-and-see attitude.
Still, in spite of all the false starts, reboots and excuses, I do believe it will happen this time.
The city, the private investors are going to get it done. They have finally got all the pieces in place. The stars have aligned.
It will get built. And it will be beautiful in its own stoic way. And hopefully it will tower over a whole host of revitalization projects at its feet.
And I will stop rolling my eyeballs every time someone says, "The Grim is about to get new life."
I'll find something something else to bitch about. And I'll do so gladly.
Epilogue
One suggestion: Change the name. Change the name to something not so gloomy. I know there is a history here, but history is sometimes better remembered occasionally rather than in daily doses. Change the name.