Op-Ed Columns

Found something the other day.

"By itself, Interstate 20 will not make or break the Anniston area. But it can be used as a catalyst to bring the various communities of Calhoun County together to produce an example for the rest of the nation to follow — a single community planning the use of its common resources in such a way that the concrete, steel and dollars which go into the planning of I-20 yield a more livable, more human place to work and play."

Curious?

That paragraph — long-winded, but worth the effort — leaped off the page when it came across my desk a few days ago. It's from a report commissioned in 1973, just before the ribbon was cut on another portion of what was to become the I-20 that we alternately despise but need.

As you would expect, some community leaders — though certainly not all — had a decent idea about the unlimited potential of an east-west interstate that would slice through the southern portion of Calhoun County. The interstate might spur business development, especially in Oxford and the road's corridor. It could alter transportation patterns. It likely would cause population shifts, experts told them. Cities might bloom or wilt, some people surmised.

It was obvious that the meandering, frustrating route of the old U.S. 78 would become obsolete.

Still, they wanted more information.

So community leaders hired a North Carolina firm to examine the impact of a finished I-20. And that report, seen through the lens of more than three decades of history, is a compelling look — at our past, and possibly our future.

One of its newspaper headlines served as a primer:

"Major impact foreseen."

A few of the report's points, taken from The Star's yellowed, 35-year-old analysis:

• Anniston "will decline in importance as surrounding areas grow in response" to I-20.

• Anniston and "every other community near the highway will probably be better off with I-20."

• Industry will eventually locate more heavily in towns to the south of Anniston.

• Outmigration — people moving out of Anniston and into other parts of Calhoun County — will occur.

• Rural residents will move into Anniston, while affluent and out-of-state residents will move into the suburbs or other parts of the county.

• Anniston will decline in importance as the county's retail and manufacturing center.

• And, Anniston will remain the center for government and a prime location for professional offices and medical facilities.

Turns out the money spent on the report was well spent. No, it wasn't perfect; the authors swung and missed a few times. And no one in the early 1970s could foresee the immense alterations that the shuttering of Fort McClellan and the widespread changes within the Anniston City Schools would bring to nearly all phases of life within Calhoun County.

Nevertheless, the I-20 predictions of 1973 still resonate today — not as much with the interstate itself, but as examples of what to expect from the county's major projects of this generation, the redevelopment of McClellan and the construction of the Eastern Parkway.

McClellan's no easy Vegas prediction; there are too many variables with too many damning components. But hope? Desire? Dream? That we can do, and sadly that is all.

But the parkway is a gambler's delight. It's a can't-miss bet with no-brainer odds, and it's a simple issue to boot: A limited-access road, needed by all, to move cars and trucks and freight, to lessen downtown congestion, to spur business and retail development, to be many things to many people in all parts of Calhoun County. All that's needed is about $60 million — that's my wild estimate — and a few more years.

Of course, the years are easy to provide; the money, not so.

If we were to produce our version of that '73 report for the parkway, what would it say? What would we predict? Thirty years after the road is finished, how accurate would our findings be?

Say this much about Calhoun County: It's a fairly predictable place. Live here long enough and it's not difficult to envision what will happen. (That's one reason why so many pessimists thrive among us.) And I can't help but believe that predicting the impact of a completed Eastern Parkway — if done properly, and (don't chuckle) within our lifetimes — would be as easy to forecast today as was the effect of I-20 in the early 1970s.

I often dream of being a time traveler, of seeing the world through the eyes of people before or after my existence. If that were possible, it'd be a compelling journey to rejoin Calhoun County decades from now, when the parkway was a routine part of our lives, and hear what people then would say about our yellowed, archaic expectations of today.

It'd be one heck of a trip.