Community Open House

On the day after the groundbreaking at the Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts, I returned to the tent set up on Magnolia Street. The road's yellow center dividing lines ran down the length of the tent. There was no huge crowd this time around. People lounged on the couches enjoying the free entertainment. Heather Alexander one of the owners of the Winter Park Playhouse introduced featured players from her theater. She joined three other women dressed in stylish 60's mini skirts. They sang a hilarious medley of James Bond theme songs using their voices to mimic the flashy trumpet blasts.

The sparse audience was once again shown a flashy computer animated fly through of the proposed performing arts center. Stiff limbed computer generated zombies wandered the halls and sat stiff and erect in the theater seats. Superimposed shots of the Lion King being performed on Broadway in NYC made it seem like Orlando could become a cultural mecca overnight, and shots of children being taught about the arts made it seem like there could be a creative, vibrant, inspiring school of the arts associated with the project.

A photographer was shooting photos of the acts on stage constantly and occasionally people wandered up to the velvet ropes to shoot video on their iPhones. My wife texted an urgent message so I walked over to her office building a few blocks away.

Groundbreaking Celebration

A large tent was erected on the site for the groundbreaking celebration for the Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts. Located across from City Hall, the tent's entrance was right where Magnolia bumps into South Street. I was directed to the media check in table where Jordana Lipkin gave me my press lanyard. The tent was air conditioned, but it was so hot out that everyone was waving their programs to stay cool.

There were rows of white folding chairs, all of which had "Reserved" signs. I bumped into Mark Baratelli of TheDailyCity.com. We took photos of ourselves shoveling the dirt. His face popped up periodically on video monitors so I was hanging out with "the talent." We joked about all the reserved seats. No one was sitting. It seemed that, like the Emperor's new clothes, the event was so exclusive that no one would be allowed to park their butt. The first act on the stage was a string quartet from the Orlando Philharmonic which is ironic since the performance hall will not benefit the Orchestra since it isn't an acoustically designed hall. It will only be good for traveling Broadway shows that use microphones.

The second act, "Sovereign Brass" also had performers from the Orchestra. I wondered if any local performer at the groundbreaking would ever benefit from the new stage. A little girl in a black dress watched the musicians mesmerized.

Andrea Canny joined Mark and I in our prime viewing spot. By now the tent was crowded full of several hundred people. Mayor Buddy Dyer started his speech with a quote from Michelangelo that I rather like...

“The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.” He said that over 200 businesses have opened since the Amway Center opened. Many of them might be the bicycle driven handy cabs. He stressed that Arts and Culture are the soul of any city, and I couldn't agree more. The tourism industry helped put the whole package together. I just hope they sprinkle enough pixie dust to somehow make the financial numbers work out. In three card Monti we eventually find the Ace of hearts if we bet enough money. Don't we?

Davis Gaines sang "This is the Moment," and for a moment, I believed. There was an orange band of sand in front of the stage. Several people walked on it and the orange crust broke showing the white sand beneath. We speculated that it might be some Tibetan sand art or perhaps it was an indication of the front wall of the new building. Our questions were answered when Buddy Dyer and city commissioners all lined up with shovels to break ground in the orange sand. Cannons fired sending streamers over the crowd and two tent panels were torn open showing huge bulldozers which fired up ready to work.

Firehouse Demolition Celebration

A new firehouse has been built downtown and opened December 2nd 2009 . The Old fire Station 1, (455 South Orange Avenue) is being torn down to make way for the new Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts. This new arts Center will just be for The traveling Broadway shows that pass through town. The hall was not set up acoustically for the Orlando Philharmonic. It is possible that no local arts groups will benefit in any way from this new buildings construction.
In the Orlando Weekly I read that there was going to be a Demolition Celebration. I was very curious to see how destruction is celebrated. When I got to the site the first thing I saw was a huge orange flag, much like the flags you might see above a used car lot. Dr. Phillips Arts Center was emblazoned on the flag in white letters. It fluttered quietly in the gentle breeze while across the street creaking moaning and crashing stone and metal could be heard. The fire stations back wall had already been torn down and I could look right through the gutted empty shell. I decided to walk around the block to see the back side of the building where all the demolishing was taking place.
A fire hydrant supplied the water to a hose which was used to water down all the loose dust kicked up b the falling debris. A large green crane was doing all the work by knocking away part of the roof with the large shovel. Periodically a small wildcat would move crumpled metal and place it in a pile. Trees now sporting large X's framed the scene almost like the mouth of a shark. City hall can be seen in the background. The trees will of course also find no home in the new performing centers plans and they will come down as well. The money to build the arts center still doesn't exist. What will be left in this spot will be an empty barren lot surrounded by a fence. It could, and probably will stay that way for many years. I have a strange fascination with these empty lots, usually symbols of some developers folly.
I never did see any celebration. Out with the old, forget the new, we can't afford it.