Saturday, August 29, 2026

Richmond Took Down The Confederacy. Now Dig Up The History It Buried.


Richmond has spent years arguing about Confederate monuments.

Maybe we have been arguing about the wrong thing.

The real question is not whether Richmond should remember slavery or the Confederacy.

It is whether Richmond has the courage to tell the whole damn story.

Because the uncomfortable truth is that slavery and the Confederacy do not merely coexist in Richmond's history.

They are inseparable from it.

Richmond was one of America's largest centers of the domestic slave trade.

Richmond became the capital of the Confederacy.

Richmond later erected enormous monuments honoring Confederate leaders.

Richmond maintained those monuments through generations of segregation and racial inequality.

And in 2020, Richmonders covered those monuments with protest messages before the statues were ultimately removed.

Every one of those things happened.

Every one of them matters.

And none should be erased.

The Confederate statues did not need to remain on pedestals.

But the history behind them absolutely does.

Richmond Was a Slave-Trading City Before It Was a Confederate Capital

Any serious discussion about Richmond and the Confederacy has to begin before 1861.

It has to begin in Shockoe Bottom.

Richmond was one of the most important centers of America's domestic slave trade.

The City itself has acknowledged that Richmond's trade in enslaved Africans was second only to New Orleans in volume and value.

From roughly 1830 through the end of the Civil War, hundreds of thousands of enslaved people were sold south from Virginia.

Shockoe Bottom contained auction houses, slave jails, brokers and businesses connected to the trade.

Human beings were bought and sold in Richmond.

Families were separated in Richmond.

People were imprisoned while waiting to be sold in Richmond.

Businesses made money from it.

Richmond's economy benefited from it.

That history is not an accusation.

It is a fact.

And then Richmond became the capital of the Confederacy.

Those two facts cannot be placed in separate historical boxes.

Stop Pretending Slavery and the Confederacy Are Unrelated

There remains a strange effort in some discussions of Confederate history to treat slavery almost as background scenery.

It wasn't.

The secession documents themselves make the centrality of slavery extraordinarily difficult to deny.

Mississippi famously declared:

"Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery."

South Carolina's declaration repeatedly discussed slavery and Northern states' refusal to enforce obligations concerning fugitive slaves.

Virginia's ordinance of secession came after the escalating national conflict over slavery and after Lincoln called for troops following the attack on Fort Sumter.

Richmond subsequently became the political capital of the Confederate States of America.

So Richmond should absolutely preserve Confederate history.

But it should preserve the actual history, not the romanticized version.

That means explaining what the Confederacy was, why secession occurred, what Richmond's role was, what soldiers experienced, what civilians experienced and what happened to enslaved people during the war.

History becomes propaganda when inconvenient facts have to be removed to make the heroes work.

Taking Down a Statue Is Not Erasing History

This should not be complicated.

Robert E. Lee still exists in American history even though his Richmond statue is gone.

Jefferson Davis still exists.

Stonewall Jackson still exists.

J.E.B. Stuart still exists.

The Confederacy still exists in the historical record.

Richmond is still the former capital of the Confederacy.

Removing a monument does not erase history because a monument is not history.

A monument is an interpretation of history.

More importantly, a monument placed prominently in public space is usually an honor.

Cities don't put everyone on 40-foot pedestals.

They select people.

They elevate them.

They literally place them above everybody else.

That is why the argument that removing Confederate statues somehow erased Richmond's history has always been weak.

Nobody proposed bulldozing Civil War battlefields.

Nobody erased Confederate records from archives.

Nobody removed Jefferson Davis from history books.

Nobody pretended the Civil War never happened.

Richmond decided that Confederate leaders no longer deserved monumental positions of civic honor.

Those are very different things.

Monument Avenue Was Never Historically Neutral

There is another uncomfortable truth Richmond should acknowledge.

Monument Avenue was not simply an outdoor Civil War museum.

It was a statement about power.

The Robert E. Lee monument was unveiled in 1890, a quarter-century after the Civil War ended.

Other Confederate monuments followed.

That timing matters.

The monuments rose during the broader era in which the South was constructing Jim Crow segregation and restricting Black political power.

The "Lost Cause" interpretation of the Civil War transformed Confederate defeat into a romantic story of nobility, military valor and regional pride while minimizing slavery's central role.

And Richmond built one of America's grandest physical expressions of that mythology.

Drive down Monument Avenue and the message was impossible to miss.

Lee.

Davis.

Jackson.

Stuart.

Maury.

Enormous statues.

Massive pedestals.

Prime public space.

Generations of Richmond children grew up beneath them.

Meanwhile, some of the people whose bodies were bought and sold in Shockoe Bottom were barely visible in Richmond's public landscape.

That was not historical balance.

It was historical hierarchy.

The Problem Wasn't That Richmond Remembered the Confederacy

The problem was how Richmond remembered it.

Richmond remembered Confederate generals monumentally.

It remembered enslaved people archaeologically.

Think about that.

One history received towering bronze statues on one of Richmond's most prestigious avenues.

The other was buried beneath streets, parking lots and development.

That contrast tells its own story about whose history Richmond once considered worthy of grandeur.

And that is precisely why the removal of the Confederate statues was defensible.

The public landscape needed correction.

But correction must not become another form of historical amnesia.

Richmond Should Preserve the Removed Confederate Monuments

This is where some people on both sides may become uncomfortable.

Richmond should preserve the Confederate statues.

Not on Monument Avenue.

And, not as objects of civic worship.

But as historical artifacts.

Put them somewhere they can be interpreted.

Explain when they were erected.

Explain who paid for them.

Explain what was happening politically when they went up.

Explain the Lost Cause.

Explain Jim Crow.

Explain how Black Richmonders experienced those monuments.

Explain why some Richmonders revered them.

Explain why others despised them.

Then explain what happened in 2020.

Show photographs of the demonstrations.

Preserve examples of the graffiti.

Show the Lee monument covered with political messages.

Explain why then Governor Ralph Northam ordered the Lee statue removed.

Explain why Richmond removed the others.

Now the Confederate monument itself becomes something much more useful than a statue on a pedestal.

It becomes evidence.

And Don't Clean Up the Story of 2020 Either

Richmond should resist the temptation to sanitize the monument-removal era.

The graffiti-covered Lee pedestal was ugly to some people.

To others, it was extraordinary.

Either way, it was historic.

Those images traveled around the world.

The monument had accumulated layers of meaning.

In 1890, Lee represented one thing.

During Jim Crow, the monument carried another meaning.

During the civil-rights era, another.

By 2020, the same physical object had become the site of protests over George Floyd, policing, race and historical memory.

That transformation is fascinating.

Richmond should preserve it.

Because the story is no longer simply:

"Here stood Robert E. Lee."

The story is:

"Here is what Richmond once honored, here is why it honored it, here is who objected to it, and here is why the city eventually changed."

That is far richer history.

But Here Is Where Richmond's Priorities Should Be Challenged

Richmond spent enormous political energy arguing about Confederate monuments.

Fine.

Now show the same urgency toward Shockoe Bottom.

Because if Richmond removes Confederate monuments in the name of historical justice but fails to properly preserve and interpret one of America's most important landscapes of slavery, then Richmond has accomplished only half the job.

Shockoe Bottom should not be treated as another neighborhood development issue.

It is national historical ground.

Lumpkin's Slave Jail should not be a historical afterthought.

The African Burial Ground should not be an afterthought.

The Richmond Slave Trail should not feel disconnected from the rest of downtown's historical experience.

These places tell a story of national importance.

Richmond should act like it.

Imagine What Richmond Could Build

Richmond has an opportunity sitting directly beneath its feet.

Not another generic tourist attraction.

Not another slogan.

Not another branding campaign dreamed up by consultants.

Something authentic.

Imagine a comprehensive Richmond historical corridor telling America's story from slavery through the monument removals.

Begin in Shockoe Bottom.

Tell the story of the slave trade.

Show visitors where people were imprisoned.

Tell the stories of individual enslaved men, women and children whenever records permit.

Explain the economics of slavery.

Follow the Richmond Slave Trail.

Then move into the Civil War.

Explain why Virginia seceded.

Explain why Richmond became the Confederate capital.

Visit the White House of the Confederacy.

Explore Tredegar.

Explain Richmond's industrial role in the war.

Tell the stories of Confederate soldiers.

Tell the stories of Black Richmonders.

Tell the stories of Union troops.

Tell the story of April 1865.

Then continue.

Emancipation.

Reconstruction.

Black political participation.

Jackson Ward.

Maggie Walker.

Jim Crow.

The Lost Cause.

Monument Avenue.

Massive Resistance.

The civil-rights movement.

And finally:

2020.

The protests.

The graffiti.

The removal of the monuments.

One city.

One continuous American story.

That Could Make Richmond a National Destination

Richmond sometimes talks about tourism as though economic development requires inventing something new.

It doesn't always.

Sometimes your most valuable asset is the thing nobody else can reproduce.

Charlotte cannot manufacture Richmond's Civil War history.

Nashville cannot duplicate Shockoe Bottom.

Atlanta cannot recreate Monument Avenue.

Baltimore cannot recreate Richmond's role as the Confederate capital.

Richmond possesses an extraordinary concentration of sites connected to slavery, the Civil War, Black history, industrial history, Reconstruction and the modern debate over Confederate memory.

Instead of being embarrassed by that complicated history, Richmond should become America's classroom for understanding it.

There is economic value in that too.

Historic tourism means visitors.

Visitors mean hotel stays.

Restaurant spending.

Museum admissions.

Transportation spending.

Retail spending.

Jobs.

Tax revenue.

Richmond's painful history could become part of its future without exploiting that history or glorifying its ugliest chapters.

But that requires vision.

Preservation Does Not Mean Celebration

This distinction should guide everything Richmond does.

Preserve the Confederacy historically.

Do not celebrate it uncritically.

Preserve the monuments.

Preserve Confederate sites.

Preserve records.

Preserve artifacts.

Preserve battlefields.

Preserve the stories of Confederate soldiers and civilians.

But place those things within the full historical context of slavery, secession, war, emancipation, Reconstruction, Jim Crow and the Lost Cause.

At the same time:

Preserve Black Richmond with equal intensity.

Preserve Shockoe.

Preserve burial grounds.

Preserve Jackson Ward.

Preserve churches.

Preserve schools.

Preserve archaeological sites.

Preserve oral histories.

Preserve the stories of enslaved people whose names historians can recover.

For too long, Richmond's physical landscape suggested one history was monumental while the other was supplemental.

That imbalance should never return.

The Confederate Monuments Should Not Go Back Up

Richmond does not need to recreate the old Monument Avenue.

The statues had their era.

That era is over.

The Confederate leaders depicted on those monuments can be studied without being restored to positions of civic honor.

That isn't erasing history.

It is adding another chapter to it.

The empty pedestal became history.

The graffiti became history.

The removal became history.

And someday the political debate we are having right now will itself be history.

That is how cities work.

They change.

But Don't Replace One Sanitized History With Another

This is the warning Richmond should hear.

For decades, Richmond tolerated a sanitized Confederate narrative that minimized slavery.

We should not correct that mistake by creating a sanitized modern narrative that minimizes the Confederacy.

Both would be intellectually dishonest.

You cannot adequately explain Richmond's slave trade without explaining what happened when slavery came under political threat.

You cannot adequately explain the Confederacy without explaining slavery.

You cannot adequately explain Monument Avenue without explaining the Lost Cause and Jim Crow.

And you cannot adequately explain the monument removals without explaining everything that came before them.

The pieces belong together.

Richmond Doesn't Need to Choose a History

Richmond's history is ugly.

It is inspiring.

It is cruel.

It is courageous.

It is contradictory.

Good.

That means it is real.

Cities are not public-relations brochures.

Richmond does not need to pretend its past was prettier than it was.

Nor should Richmond be afraid that preserving Confederate history somehow endorses the Confederacy.

Museums preserve concentration-camp artifacts without endorsing Nazism.

Civil-rights museums preserve segregation signs without endorsing segregation.

Slave shackles are preserved precisely because society condemns what they represent.

Preservation and celebration are different acts.

Richmond should be sophisticated enough to understand the distinction.

The Real Choice Isn't Slavery or the Confederacy

That framing was always too small.


The real choice is between history and mythology.

Mythology requires heroes and villains uncomplicated by facts.

History doesn't.

History can explain why Confederate soldiers fought while also explaining what the Confederate government fought to preserve.

History can recognize Robert E. Lee's military significance while rejecting his elevation as an eternal civic hero.

History can acknowledge the emotional attachment some Richmonders had to Confederate monuments while acknowledging why generations of Black Richmonders experienced those same monuments very differently.

History can preserve a statue without putting it back on a pedestal.

And history can acknowledge that the protesters who covered that pedestal with graffiti became part of the object's story too.

Richmond should choose history.

All of it.

Richmond Should Stop Running From the Thing That Makes It Historically Unique

Richmond will never escape being the former capital of the Confederacy.

It shouldn't try.

It will never escape its history as a center of the slave trade.

It shouldn't try to escape that either.

Instead, Richmond should connect those histories.

Shockoe Bottom.

Lumpkin's Jail.

The African Burial Ground.

The Slave Trail.

Tredegar.

The Confederate White House.

Civil War battlefields.

Jackson Ward.

Maggie Walker.

Monument Avenue.

The removed Confederate statues.

The 2020 protests.

Put them into one historical conversation.

Tell visitors:

This is what happened here.

This is what Richmond celebrated.

This is what Richmond ignored.

This is what Richmond fought about.

And this is how Richmond changed.

That would be more powerful than another monument.

The Statues Came Down. The Truth Should Go Up.

Richmond was right to reconsider whether Confederate leaders should continue towering over its citizens from positions of civic honor.

But removing those statues cannot be the conclusion of Richmond's historical reckoning.

It should be the beginning.

Now comes the harder work.

Preserve Shockoe Bottom.

Invest seriously in interpreting slavery.

Preserve the Confederate monuments as historical artifacts.

Explain why they were built.

Explain why they were removed.

Tell the story of the Confederacy without romanticizing it.

Tell the story of slavery without reducing enslaved people to anonymous victims.

Tell the story of Black Richmond after emancipation.

Tell the story of Monument Avenue.

Tell the story of 2020.

And resist the temptation to make any of it comfortable.

Because Richmond's greatest historical asset isn't the Confederacy.

It isn't slavery.

It isn't Monument Avenue.

It isn't even the removal of the monuments.

It is the fact that all of those stories collided in the same city.

Richmond has spent more than a century arguing about which version of its past should occupy the pedestal.

Maybe the answer is:

None of them.

Take history off the pedestal.

Put it under the microscope.

And tell the whole story.

Brian K. Telfair
Publisher & Editor | The Richmond Chronicle

Independent commentary and investigative analysis on Richmond government, public spending, economic development, and the decisions shaping the city’s future.

The Richmond Chronicle
Asking the questions City Hall would rather not answer.

Wednesday, August 26, 2026

Will Richmond Really Demolish An Economic Engine?


 

The debate over the Richmond Coliseum has been framed around an aging building.

That framing misses the larger economic question.

What if Richmond is preparing to demolish not simply an obsolete arena, but an economic asset capable of bringing hundreds of thousands of customers into downtown every year?

A parking lot doesn't buy dinner.

An empty development parcel doesn't book a hotel room.

A demolition site doesn't sell concert tickets.

But 8,000 people arriving downtown for a concert do all three.

That distinction should be at the center of Richmond's Coliseum debate.

The Coliseum's Real Product Is People

The economic value of an arena isn't the concrete, seats or scoreboard.

It is people.

Every successful event imports consumers into downtown.

They park.

They eat.

They drink.

They stay overnight.

They use rideshare services.

They patronize nearby businesses.

And then another event does it again.

That recurring flow of consumers is what Richmond risks eliminating.

Consider a relatively modest hypothetical.

A renovated Coliseum hosting 80 significant events annually with average attendance of 7,500 would produce approximately:

600,000 attendee visits per year.

If those visitors generated an average of only $75 in spending outside the arena, that represents:

$45 million in potential annual economic activity.

Over ten years, the simple arithmetic reaches:

$450 million.

Over twenty years:

$900 million.

Those figures are illustrations, not economic-impact forecasts. Some spending would be displaced from elsewhere in the Richmond region, and a legitimate feasibility study would need to calculate how much represents genuinely new economic activity.

But that is precisely the point.

Where is Richmond's analysis?

Before destroying an arena, shouldn't taxpayers know what the economic value of operating it might be?

Baltimore Already Ran the Experiment

Richmond does not have to debate this entirely in the abstract.

Baltimore had an aging downtown arena originally constructed in 1962.

It didn't demolish it.

It reinvented it.

The building underwent a privately financed renovation exceeding $250 million and reopened as CFG Bank Arena in 2023.

The results are striking.

Baltimore reports that the arena hosted 172 live performances and attracted approximately 1.5 million visitors during calendar year 2024.

The Baltimore Development Corporation has reported that the arena generates approximately $3.5 million annually in sales and amusement taxes.

Those numbers should stop Richmond policymakers in their tracks.

Baltimore took an old arena and turned it into a machine for bringing people downtown.

Richmond took its arena and closed the doors.

Imagine 600,000 Customers Arriving Downtown

Forget economic-development jargon for a moment.

Imagine what 600,000 additional annual attendee visits could mean to downtown Richmond.

That is thousands of additional restaurant tables filled.

Thousands of hotel rooms occupied.

Thousands of parking transactions.

Thousands of Uber and Lyft rides.

Thousands of drinks purchased.

Thousands of customers walking Broad Street.

And unlike an office building, an arena can produce concentrated bursts of spending during evenings and weekends, exactly when downtown entertainment businesses need customers.

Richmond frequently discusses revitalizing downtown.

A functioning arena literally delivers customers to downtown by the thousands.

That has economic value.

And Richmond Already Owns the Asset

There is another fact that makes this debate particularly frustrating.

Richmond isn't deciding whether to purchase land and build an arena from scratch.

The city already owns one.

The Coliseum already sits beside the Greater Richmond Convention Center.

It is already near downtown hotels.

It is already near restaurants.

It is already connected to Broad Street.

It already occupies an arena-sized downtown footprint.

And Richmond itself once contemplated spending approximately $30 million to extend the building's useful life through improvements to mechanical, electrical and other systems.

That history matters.

It demonstrates that the Coliseum wasn't always treated as a hopeless building awaiting demolition.

At some point, Richmond's question changed from:

How do we extend the Coliseum's life?

to:

What do we build after we tear it down?

The economic analysis supporting that shift deserves much more scrutiny.

An Arena Could Make the Convention Center More Valuable

The Coliseum shouldn't be evaluated in isolation.

It sits beside another major public investment: the Greater Richmond Convention Center.

Together, the two facilities potentially create something much more powerful.

Convention Center + Arena + Hotels + Restaurants + Entertainment

That combination could allow Richmond to pursue larger conventions, tournaments, corporate gatherings, religious conferences, graduations, concerts and multi-day events.

Those are particularly valuable because visitors don't merely attend an event.

They stay.

A visitor who drives downtown for two hours has value.

A visitor who stays two nights, eats six meals, pays hotel taxes, parks repeatedly and spends money throughout downtown has substantially more.

A renovated Coliseum could therefore increase the economic productivity of assets Richmond already owns.

The CIAA Example Shows What One Event Can Do

Consider Baltimore's CIAA basketball tournament.

The 2026 tournament attracted more than 33,000 fans to CFG Bank Arena during its 22-game run.

Visit Baltimore and the CIAA estimated its economic impact at a record $33.6 million.

One tournament.

One arena.

Tens of millions in estimated economic activity.

Richmond should be asking an obvious question:

What events aren't even considering Richmond because Richmond no longer has the appropriate indoor venue?

Every lost tournament has a value.

Every lost concert has a value.

Every lost convention has a value.

Every lost hotel night has a value.

Every lost restaurant customer has a value.

Those losses rarely appear on a demolition spreadsheet.

They should.

The Coliseum Could Be a Year-Round Economic Generator

Richmond's Allianz Amphitheater is an important addition to the city's entertainment infrastructure.

But outdoor venues have limitations.

A renovated Coliseum would provide something fundamentally different:

year-round indoor entertainment.

January concerts.

February tournaments.

December family shows.

College basketball.

Wrestling.

Comedy.

Esports.

Graduations.

Conventions.

Religious gatherings.

Corporate events.

The building could produce economic activity during periods when outdoor entertainment cannot.

That means Richmond shouldn't necessarily view its venues as competitors.

They could be complementary pieces of a larger entertainment economy.

Broad Street Needs Customers More Than Renderings

Richmond has spent years talking about revitalizing downtown.

But redevelopment ultimately depends on demand.

Restaurants need customers.

Retailers need customers.

Hotels need guests.

Entertainment districts need people.

A successful Coliseum could deliver thousands of them at once.

Repeatedly.

That is what makes arenas unusual economic assets.

A residential building houses people.

An office building houses workers.

A hotel houses visitors.

An arena imports crowds.

Those crowds then spend money throughout the surrounding area.

If Richmond wants a stronger entertainment district along Broad Street, eliminating one of the largest potential generators of foot traffic deserves extraordinary scrutiny.

Demolition Has an Opportunity Cost

The city should also stop pretending demolition is economically neutral.

It isn't.

Demolishing the Coliseum eliminates an option.

Once the building is gone, Richmond cannot decide five years later that renovation would have been worthwhile.

And replacing that capacity someday could require hundreds of millions of dollars.

So the proper economic comparison isn't:

Old building versus new development.

It is:

The long-term economic value of a functioning arena versus the long-term economic value of whatever replaces it.

Those numbers should be placed side by side.

If redevelopment produces more economic value, prove it.

If renovation costs too much, demonstrate it.

If promoters wouldn't book the building, document it.

If the structure cannot economically be rehabilitated, produce the engineering analysis.

But Richmond shouldn't destroy an economic asset based on assumptions.

Ask the Private Market

There is an obvious way to test whether the Coliseum still has value.

Put it to the market.

Baltimore's arena renovation was privately financed.

Richmond could issue a competitive solicitation asking national arena operators, developers and entertainment companies one straightforward question:

What would you invest to renovate and operate the Richmond Coliseum under a long-term agreement?

Require bidders to provide:

  • renovation costs;
  • private investment commitments;
  • projected annual events;
  • projected attendance;
  • operating expenses;
  • city revenue;
  • expected hotel-room demand;
  • projected visitor spending;
  • maintenance obligations; and
  • long-term economic impact.

Then compare those proposals with demolition and redevelopment.

Maybe nobody submits a financially credible proposal.

If so, Richmond would have powerful evidence supporting demolition.

But perhaps someone does.

Why wouldn't Richmond want to know before the wrecking ball arrives?

The Most Expensive Decision Could Be Demolition

This is the part of the debate Richmond should confront.

Demolition feels inexpensive because its largest cost may be invisible.

The true cost isn't simply what Richmond pays a contractor to knock the building down.

It is the economic activity the building might have generated over the next 20 or 30 years.

Suppose a renovated Coliseum generated even $30 million in incremental annual economic activity.

Over 20 years, that represents $600 million flowing through the local economy.

At $40 million annually, it becomes $800 million.

At $50 million, it reaches $1 billion.

Again, those aren't predictions. They demonstrate why a serious independent economic-impact study matters.

Because if the building possesses even a fraction of that potential, demolition isn't merely removing an old arena.

It is extinguishing a future revenue stream.

Richmond Should Demand One Number

Before demolition, Richmond taxpayers should demand something surprisingly simple:

What is the estimated 30-year economic value of a renovated Richmond Coliseum?

Not its demolition cost.

Not the value of the land.

Not the age of the building.

Not what someone hopes to construct there.

The economic value of the arena itself.

Calculate projected attendance.

Calculate visitor spending.

Calculate hotel nights.

Calculate meals.

Calculate parking.

Calculate admissions taxes.

Calculate sales taxes.

Calculate meals taxes.

Calculate lodging taxes.

Calculate jobs.

Calculate Convention Center synergies.

Then calculate the same numbers for the proposed replacement development.

Put both columns on the same page.

Renovation versus demolition.

Then let Richmond see which investment actually produces more economic value.

Richmond Could Be Demolishing the Wrong Thing

The Coliseum debate ultimately isn't about nostalgia.

It is about opportunity cost.

Baltimore took an arena older than Richmond's, invested heavily in it and created a venue that attracted approximately 1.5 million visitors in a single year.

Richmond has an arena sitting beside its Convention Center in the heart of downtown.

And instead of determining how much economic activity that asset could generate, Richmond appears prepared to erase it.

Perhaps demolition ultimately is the right answer.

But the city should have to prove it.

Because Richmond doesn't simply risk losing a building.

It risks losing concerts.

Tournaments.

Conventions.

Hotel stays.

Restaurant customers.

Tax revenue.

Jobs.

Foot traffic.

And potentially hundreds of millions of dollars in long-term economic activity.

A vacant Coliseum costs Richmond money.

A demolished Coliseum produces no events at all.

But a renovated Coliseum could produce customers, spending and tax revenue year after year.

Before Richmond tears down the building, it should determine the value of what it is throwing away.

Because the most economically reckless decision may not be spending money to save the Coliseum.

It may be demolishing it without ever calculating what a revived Coliseum could be worth.

Brian K. Telfair
Publisher & Editor | The Richmond Chronicle

Independent commentary and investigative analysis on Richmond government, public spending, economic development, and the decisions shaping the city’s future.

The Richmond Chronicle
Asking the questions City Hall would rather not answer.

Monday, August 24, 2026

Did RPS Fail Barack Obama Elementary?


 

RPS HAD ALL SUMMER. NOW BARACK OBAMA ELEMENTARY CAN'T OPEN.

Mold. Rodents. HVAC failures. Failed air tests. And now a school that can't open on schedule. At what point does this stop being a maintenance problem and become a management failure?

The story at Barack Obama Elementary has just gotten considerably worse.

After days of remediation, repeated air-quality testing and assurances that the school was moving toward a Tuesday opening, Barack Obama Elementary will not open as planned.

CBS 6 reported Monday that the school will not open for the beginning of its 2026 school year because of the continuing mold problem. NBC12 separately reported that the school will remain closed through at least the end of the week.

That development changes the question Richmond Public Schools needs to answer.

This is no longer simply:

How quickly can RPS clean up the mold?

It is:

How did RPS allow Barack Obama Elementary to reach opening day in a condition where children cannot attend school?

Yesterday, RPS Thought It Had the Problem Under Control

The reversal is particularly troubling because RPS appeared to be approaching the finish line Sunday.

The district reported that its latest testing had cleared most of the building, with the exception of the art room. The plan was to seal the art room, also close the nearby media center as a precaution, allow teachers back into the building Monday and welcome students Tuesday.

Less than 24 hours later, that plan was gone.

The school wasn't opening.

That raises an obvious question:

What changed?

RPS needs to explain precisely what additional information caused officials to reverse course.

Was additional mold discovered?

Did the formal environmental report reveal something that preliminary testing hadn't?

Did another part of the building fail?

Did officials determine that isolating the art room and media center wasn't sufficient?

Parents deserve specifics, not another vague assurance that remediation is continuing.

This Wasn't One Surprise Problem

Look at the collection of issues now associated with Barack Obama Elementary.

There has been an HVAC failure.

There has been mold.

There have been elevated mold-spore readings.

There has been moisture from a pipe concealed above ceiling tiles.

There have been rodents reported in multiple rooms.

There has been emergency duct cleaning.

There have been filter replacements.

There has been extensive air scrubbing.

There have been seven industrial dehumidifiers operating inside the building.

There has been removal of porous material.

There have been multiple rounds of environmental testing.

The art room has required additional remediation.

The media center was going to be closed as a precaution.

And now the school itself cannot open on schedule.

At some point, the word "unexpected" stops being an adequate explanation.

The HVAC Warning Came Months Ago

Perhaps the most troubling issue remains the school's cooling system.

RPS has said that a recent HVAC outage contributed to the mold problem.

But reporting indicates that problems with the school's air-conditioning system weren't simply discovered last week.

The system reportedly had been operating at roughly 50 percent capacity since May.

That means RPS entered the summer knowing that a critical building system wasn't functioning normally.

Then came June.

Then July.

Then August.

Students weren't occupying the building for most of that period.

That was the window for aggressive inspection, repair, moisture testing, environmental testing and preventive maintenance.

Instead, Richmond reached opening week with contractors racing against the calendar.

And the calendar won.

RPS Also Knew This School Had a Mold History

Barack Obama Elementary wasn't a building with no history of environmental concerns.

The school had previously been identified in environmental assessments involving visible or suspected mold.

That should have made a struggling HVAC system an even bigger warning sign.

An aging cooling system plus Richmond summer humidity plus a previous mold history isn't an obscure engineering puzzle.

It's practically an invitation to inspect the building repeatedly.

RPS should therefore explain exactly what environmental inspections occurred at Obama Elementary during June, July and early August.

Not what happened last week.

What happened during the summer?

And What About the Rodents?

The rodents remain almost overshadowed by the mold crisis.

They shouldn't be.

RPS acknowledged reports of rodents in several rooms and brought in exterminators.

That raises another series of maintenance questions.

When was Obama Elementary last inspected for pests before August?

When was the first evidence of rodents documented?

Were droppings or other signs previously reported?

Were entry points identified?

Were those entry points repaired?

What pest-control work was performed over the summer?

A school shouldn't require emergency extermination days before children arrive without somebody asking how the infestation developed.

Then Contractors Found the Moist Pipe

During remediation, crews found what RPS described as the likely primary source of mold growth: a moist pipe hidden above ceiling tiles in a supply closet.

That discovery raises still another maintenance question:

How long had it been wet?

A pipe doesn't have to burst dramatically to damage a building.

A slow leak or persistent condensation can quietly create the perfect environment for mold.

That's precisely why preventive building inspections matter.

If the moisture had existed for weeks or months, Richmond needs to know why it wasn't discovered.

The Tests Kept Telling RPS Something Was Wrong

The progression is striking.

RPS remediated.

Then testing showed elevated mold levels.

RPS remediated again.

Saturday's testing still showed slightly elevated levels.

Crews continued cleaning, removed porous material, scrubbed the air and operated seven industrial dehumidifiers.

Sunday brought what appeared to be good news: most testing came back clear, although the art room remained problematic. RPS announced plans to seal that room and the nearby media center and proceed toward a Tuesday opening.

Now the school isn't opening Tuesday after all.

That's no longer a minor maintenance hiccup.

That's an operational failure affecting an entire school community.

The Question Is No Longer Whether RPS Responded

RPS deserves credit for one important decision.

It isn't putting students into a building officials aren't confident is ready.

That is exactly the correct decision.

But making the correct safety decision on August 24 doesn't erase whatever happened before August 24.

Crisis management and preventive management aren't the same thing.

If your roof leaks for months and you finally put out buckets when the ceiling collapses, the buckets aren't evidence of excellent building management.

They're evidence that you finally reached the emergency stage.

That's essentially the question at Obama Elementary.

What Was RPS Doing All Summer?

This is the question Superintendent Jason Kamras and the Richmond School Board should answer publicly.

RPS should release:

  • All Obama Elementary HVAC work orders from 2024 through 2026.

  • Records concerning the reported May HVAC problems.

  • June, July and August HVAC inspection and repair records.

  • Summer building inspection reports.

  • Moisture and plumbing inspection records.

  • Pest-control contracts, inspection reports and treatment records.

  • Previous mold assessments and remediation records.

  • The school's Facilities Condition Assessment.

  • Complaints submitted by teachers, administrators, custodians and parents concerning temperature, moisture, mold or pests.

  • The complete environmental testing reports from the current incident.

  • The timeline showing exactly when administrators first became aware of each problem.

  • The costs of emergency remediation, testing and repairs.

  • Documentation explaining why Sunday's anticipated Tuesday reopening was abandoned.

Those records would allow Richmond to distinguish between two very different explanations.

Either RPS had a robust preventive-maintenance program and suffered an extraordinary series of failures that couldn't reasonably have been anticipated.

Or the warning signs were there and the system failed to act aggressively enough.

Right now, the second possibility deserves serious scrutiny.

A School Closure Is the Consequence of Deferred Maintenance

There is another reason this matters.

Deferred maintenance doesn't make costs disappear.

It converts manageable maintenance into expensive emergencies.

A struggling HVAC system can become a mold problem.

A moisture problem can become an environmental remediation project.

An unrepaired opening can become a rodent infestation.

A maintenance problem can become an air-quality problem.

And eventually:

A building problem becomes an education problem.

That's where Richmond is now.

Children who should be beginning their school year at Barack Obama Elementary aren't.

Teachers who should be settling into classrooms are dealing with uncertainty.

Parents are having to adjust work and childcare arrangements.

And RPS is spending money on emergency contractors, environmental testing, remediation, extermination and repairs that potentially could have been reduced through earlier intervention.

That isn't merely inconvenient.

It's expensive.

This Should Trigger a Systemwide Review

Richmond shouldn't treat Obama Elementary as an isolated incident, clean the building and move along.

The School Board should order a review of preventive maintenance across RPS.

How many schools have HVAC systems operating below their intended capacity?

How many have outstanding roof leaks?

How many have unresolved plumbing problems?

How many have recurring pest complaints?

How many have previous mold findings?

How many maintenance work orders have been outstanding for more than 30, 60, 90 or 180 days?

And how many buildings are one humid week or equipment failure away from becoming the next Obama Elementary?

Those answers matter far more than another PowerPoint presentation about facilities.

The Richmond Chronicle Verdict

The case that RPS failed Barack Obama Elementary on preventive maintenance is getting stronger.

Consider what Richmond now knows.

There were known HVAC problems.

There was a previous mold history.

There were rodents.

There was hidden moisture.

There were elevated mold readings.

There were repeated remediation efforts.

There were rooms that still couldn't be used.

There was a planned Tuesday reopening.

And now the school won't open Tuesday at all.

RPS absolutely should keep the building closed for as long as necessary to guarantee student and employee safety.

But that responsible decision shouldn't become a shield against examining what happened beforehand.

Because the real scandal wouldn't be that RPS closed a school because it wasn't ready.

The real scandal would be discovering that RPS had months of warning signs and still reached opening day with a school that wasn't ready.

The School Board shouldn't simply ask Superintendent Kamras when Barack Obama Elementary will reopen.

It should ask a much harder question:

How did we get here?

And this time, Richmond deserves an answer supported by maintenance records, inspection reports, work orders and dates.

Because after mold, rodents, HVAC failures, repeated remediation and now a school that cannot open on schedule, "we're working on it" isn't enough anymore.

Brian K. Telfair
Publisher & Editor | The Richmond Chronicle

Independent commentary and investigative analysis on Richmond government, public spending, economic development, and the decisions shaping the city’s future.

The Richmond Chronicle
Asking the questions City Hall would rather not answer.



Wednesday, August 19, 2026

Who Asked Richmonders If WE Wanted the Coliseum Demolished?


 

Before Richmond tears down a major public asset, shouldn't the public have a meaningful say?

The debate over the Richmond Coliseum has largely moved beyond whether the building should survive.

The City closed the Coliseum in 2019, and current redevelopment plans contemplate its demolition.

But one basic question remains surprisingly difficult to answer:

When were Richmond residents actually asked whether we  wanted the Coliseum demolished?

Not what should replace it.

Not what downtown should look like in twenty years.

Not whether City Center should have housing, hotels, parks or retail.

The specific question is simpler:

Should Richmond demolish the Coliseum?

That question appears never to have been put before the public through a clear, focused process devoted to demolition versus preservation.

And for a publicly owned arena that served Richmond for nearly half a century, that is a serious problem.

Planning Around the Coliseum Is Not the Same as Deciding Its Fate

Richmond has conducted public engagement concerning City Center, the downtown area that includes the Coliseum.

Residents have been invited to discuss redevelopment concepts, transportation, public spaces, housing and other possibilities for the area.

That engagement matters.

But there is an enormous difference between asking:

"What should this area become?"

and asking:

"Should we tear down the Coliseum?"

The second question requires a different conversation.

Residents should have been presented with competing alternatives: demolition, renovation, rehabilitation, adaptive reuse or some form of public-private redevelopment.

Then they should have been given the information necessary to evaluate those choices.

Instead, demolition increasingly appears less like an option being debated and more like an assumption embedded within the redevelopment process.

Where Was the Public Debate?

Before demolishing a major public asset, Richmond should be able to point to a transparent record showing how the decision was reached.

Where were the public hearings specifically devoted to demolition versus renovation?

Where was the independent analysis comparing the costs of demolition and replacement with rehabilitation?

Where was the presentation explaining why renovation was impractical?

Where was the structural assessment establishing that the building could not reasonably be restored?

Where was the public discussion of whether a private developer or arena operator might be interested in renovating it?

And where was the opportunity for Richmond residents to say:

Keep it. Renovate it. Find another use for it.

Those questions become even more important because demolition is irreversible.

Show Richmond the Evidence

Perhaps demolition really is the best option.

If so, the City should be able to prove it.

Release the structural evaluations.

Show the renovation estimates.

Explain the operating challenges.

Identify the alternatives considered.

Provide the estimated demolition costs.

Compare demolition with modernization.

Explain what attempts, if any, were made to attract private investment.

And disclose how and when the final determination to demolish the building was made.

That is not an unreasonable standard.

It is what taxpayers should expect before a major publicly owned asset disappears.

Closure Does Not Automatically Justify Demolition

The Coliseum's closure in 2019 should not itself become the justification for demolition.

A building can be outdated without being beyond rehabilitation.

An arena can require substantial investment without being worthless.

And a facility can be closed without demolition being the only possible next step.

Those are separate determinations.

The critical question is whether Richmond ever seriously evaluated them as separate determinations.

If the Coliseum was functionally obsolete, show the analysis.

If renovation was prohibitively expensive, show the numbers.

If the structure was beyond reasonable repair, show the engineering reports.

If private redevelopment was explored and rejected, show what was proposed and why it failed.

The burden should not be on citizens to prove the Coliseum can be saved.

The burden should be on the City to demonstrate why a publicly owned asset must be destroyed.

Public Input Should Come Before the Wrecking Ball

This is ultimately bigger than one arena.

It is about how Richmond makes major decisions involving public property.

Citizens do not need veto power over every development decision. Representative government cannot function that way.

But demolition of a major civic asset should require something more than a redevelopment plan that treats the building's disappearance as a foregone conclusion.

There should be a clear public record.

There should be competing alternatives.

There should be supporting evidence.

And there should be meaningful public input specifically addressing demolition.

Because once the Coliseum is gone, Richmond cannot reconsider.

The debate will be over not because the public reached a conclusion, but because the building no longer exists.

The Question City Hall Should Answer

Richmond officials should answer one straightforward question before demolition begins:

When did you ask Richmonders whether they wanted their Coliseum demolished?

If there was a robust public process specifically examining demolition versus renovation, show it.

If there was an independent study demonstrating demolition was the best option, release it.

If alternatives were seriously evaluated, identify them.

But if none of that happened, Richmond should reconsider whether an irreversible decision deserves one final public examination.

The argument is not that the Coliseum must be saved at any cost.

It is that Richmond should not demolish it without first making the case to the people who own it.

Brian K. Telfair
Publisher & Editor | The Richmond Chronicle

Independent commentary and investigative analysis on Richmond government, public spending, economic development, and the decisions shaping the city’s future.

The Richmond Chronicle
Asking the questions City Hall would rather not answer.

Thursday, August 13, 2026

The Richmond Coliseum: Closed First - Explained Later (Part II)


 

DID RICHMOND EVER REALLY TEST THE CASE FOR RENOVATING THE COLISEUM?

A closer look at the RFP process, the renovation option, and the lesson Baltimore may have provided

For years, Richmond's debate over the Richmond Coliseum has largely been framed around two choices: replace the aging arena or demolish it and redevelop the property.

But there is a third question that deserves considerably more attention:

Did Richmond ever conduct a truly competitive process specifically designed to determine what it would cost to renovate and modernize the existing Coliseum?

The record suggests the answer is more complicated than many Richmonders may realize.

Richmond did issue a major Request for Proposals in 2017 that technically allowed rehabilitation of the Coliseum. But that RFP was not principally a Coliseum-renovation study. It was a massive downtown redevelopment solicitation encompassing roughly 10 blocks and requiring developers to address an arena, housing, a convention hotel, transportation, infrastructure, the Blues Armory and other development objectives.

And despite officials initially saying they hoped the market would be creative, Richmond received only one proposal.

That distinction matters.

Because approximately five years later, Baltimore demonstrated something Richmond never fully tested: whether an aging downtown arena could be transformed through major private investment rather than demolished.

The result in Baltimore is difficult to ignore.


THE 2017 RFP

On November 9, 2017, Richmond issued the North of Broad/Downtown Neighborhood Redevelopment Project RFP.

The solicitation covered far more than the Coliseum.

Among other things, respondents were expected to address an arena, mixed-income and affordable housing, economic development, infrastructure, job creation, minority-business participation, a replacement transit facility, a convention-center hotel and preservation of the historic Blues Armory.

The Coliseum language is particularly important.

Contemporary reporting described the requirement this way: proposals had to include either "demolition and replacement, or rehabilitation" of the existing Richmond Coliseum as an entertainment venue.

In other words:

Renovation was legally on the table.

But there is a major difference between allowing renovation and structuring an RFP specifically to investigate renovation.

Richmond did the former.

There is little evidence that it did the latter.


THE RFP WAS REALLY ABOUT MUCH MORE THAN AN ARENA

The scope of the solicitation helps explain the problem.

A company interested primarily in acquiring, renovating and operating an arena could not simply submit a proposal saying:

Here is what is structurally necessary. Here is our renovation budget. Here is our financing. Here are the improvements. Here is the projected event schedule. Here is what we will pay the City. Here is the economic impact.

Instead, the prospective developer confronted an enormous downtown redevelopment undertaking.

The City's evaluation criteria included the financial capacity of the development team, experience with projects of comparable scale and complexity, net economic benefit to Richmond and whether the overall proposal was in the City's best interest.

Those are reasonable criteria for a billion-dollar neighborhood redevelopment.

But they are not the same thing as asking arena specialists a much narrower question:

Can this building be economically renovated?

That question arguably deserved its own process.


ONLY ONE PROPOSAL ARRIVED

The clearest warning sign may be the number of responses.

When the February 9, 2018 deadline arrived, Richmond had received exactly one proposal.

That proposal came from the group that ultimately became associated with the Navy Hill project.

Instead of producing competing approaches to the Coliseum, therefore, the process effectively left Richmond evaluating a single redevelopment vision.

The City's original plan called for a review committee drawn from multiple disciplines, followed potentially by preliminary discussions, negotiations and eventual City Council consideration.

The lone proposal eventually evolved into the roughly $1.5 billion Navy Hill redevelopment proposal centered around construction of a new 17,500-seat arena.

The renovation alternative essentially disappeared from the center of the discussion.

And that is where questions about the procurement process become significant.


CITY COUNCIL LATER QUESTIONED THE PROCESS

These concerns are not merely hindsight.

In 2020, Richmond City Council considered a resolution asking the administration to withdraw the Navy Hill ordinances and conduct a new RFP process.

The resolution contained several striking findings.

Council noted that developers had been given approximately 92 days to respond to an extraordinarily large and complicated redevelopment solicitation.

It stated that this period "may have been too short for development of alternative proposals for such a large and complex project."

Even more importantly, Council noted that the RFP required demolition and replacement or rehabilitation of the Coliseum even though Council itself had not previously taken an official position requesting either course.

Council also suggested that the Coliseum requirements may have limited the number and variety of proposals received.

That is a remarkable point.

Richmond's own legislative body was essentially questioning whether the procurement process had been structured in a way that discouraged alternative ideas.


WHAT A TRUE COLISEUM RENOVATION RFP COULD HAVE LOOKED LIKE

Imagine a different process.

Instead of bundling the arena into an enormous neighborhood redevelopment, Richmond could have issued a separate solicitation to arena developers, operators, architects and investment groups.

The City could have requested proposals for:

  1. Full renovation of the existing Coliseum.

  2. Partial renovation and modernization.

  3. Expansion where structurally feasible.

  4. Private operation of the arena.

  5. Public-private financing.

  6. Private financing in exchange for a long-term lease.

  7. Naming-rights revenue.

  8. Premium seating, suites and club areas.

  9. Improved acoustics and concert-production infrastructure.

  10. Restaurant, retail and entertainment development around the building.

Most importantly, every bidder could have been required to provide a detailed cost estimate and operating model.

Richmond could then have compared:

Renovation vs. replacement vs. demolition.

That would have created something Richmond still lacks today: a clean, apples-to-apples public record showing the financial consequences of each option.


THEN CAME ANOTHER RENOVATION PROPOSAL

The renovation issue did not completely disappear.

After City Council rejected Navy Hill in 2020, Washington-based Douglas Development Corporation submitted an unsolicited offer to acquire roughly 15 acres of the Navy Hill property for $15 million.

Its proposal was dramatically different.

Douglas proposed keeping and renovating the Richmond Coliseum.

According to Richmond BizSense, Douglas said its goal was to retain the structure, modernize it and preserve its historic integrity. Even more notable was the financing concept: Douglas said the renovation would involve no TIF, City bonds or new taxes and would be undertaken at zero cost to the City.

The proposal was incomplete in several important respects. City administrators noted that it lacked information including projected investment, tax revenue, job creation and certain other details required of the Navy Hill proposal.

That means Douglas's offer should not be presented as proof that the Coliseum definitely could have been successfully renovated.

But it proves something else:

There was private-sector interest in attempting it.

And that should have raised an obvious question.

Why not issue a focused competitive RFP and see whether Douglas or other arena developers were prepared to put detailed numbers behind the concept?


THE BALTIMORE COMPARISON

That question became much more interesting after Baltimore.

Baltimore faced its own aging downtown arena, originally opened in 1962.

Instead of tearing it down, the city partnered with Oak View Group on a massive renovation.

Today it is the CFG Bank Arena.

The renovation ultimately represented more than $250 million in private investment. According to the arena and project sources, the project was privately financed rather than funded by Baltimore taxpayers.

The old arena wasn't merely given fresh paint.

The project modernized seating, suites, club spaces, acoustics, concourses, food-and-beverage operations and other components necessary to compete for modern entertainment events.

The building reopened in April 2023.

And the economic numbers have become increasingly compelling.


BALTIMORE'S RESULTS

Baltimore Development Corporation reports that the renovation produced:

  • More than $250 million in private investment

  • More than 500 construction jobs

  • More than 60 permanent operating jobs

  • More than 120 shows annually

  • Approximately $3.5 million in annual sales and amusement taxes

The same Baltimore presentation says 37% of construction subcontracts went to local and/or minority-owned companies.

And the arena's performance has continued to grow.

Baltimore's Fiscal Year 2026 budget documents report that CFG Bank Arena hosted 172 live performances during calendar year 2024 and attracted approximately 1.5 million visitors.

That is precisely the kind of activity Richmond lost when the Coliseum stopped operating.

Arena visitors do not simply purchase tickets.

They park.

They eat.

They drink.

They stay in hotels.

They use transportation.

They spend money before and after events.

And businesses surrounding the arena capture part of that spending.

Baltimore's renovated arena has even strengthened the city's competitive position for major touring acts. Reporting in 2024 noted that performers including Billie Eilish and Pearl Jam were choosing Baltimore while bypassing Washington for certain tour dates.

Baltimore turned an aging arena into an economic-development asset.

Richmond turned its aging arena dark.


ONE EVENT SHOWS THE RIPPLE EFFECT

Consider the CIAA basketball tournament.

A Baltimore Development Corporation report estimated that the 2023 tournament drew more than 38,400 fans over five days and generated approximately $29.6 million in economic impact.

The report also said 118 minority-owned businesses participated in tournament preparations and logistics, producing more than $1.2 million in direct economic benefit for those businesses.

That doesn't mean every arena event generates anything close to $29.6 million.

It doesn't.

But it demonstrates the broader point.

The economic value of an arena cannot be measured solely by the arena's own operating profit.

Its economic footprint extends into hotels, restaurants, parking, transportation, tourism and surrounding development.


THE ENVIRONMENTAL BENEFIT IS WORTH NOTING TOO

Baltimore found another benefit from renovation.

CFG Bank Arena reports that preserving and renovating the existing building resulted in approximately a 95% reduction in embodied carbon compared with constructing an entirely new facility, while avoiding more than 50,000 tons of structural demolition waste.

That provides yet another category Richmond could have evaluated:

What is the environmental and financial value of reusing an enormous structure that already exists?

Demolition is not free.

Neither is rebuilding.


BALTIMORE DOES NOT PROVE RICHMOND COULD HAVE DONE THE SAME THING

There is an important caveat.

Baltimore and Richmond are different markets.

Their arenas are different buildings.

Baltimore sits within a much larger metropolitan market and benefits from its location between Washington and Philadelphia.

A $250 million renovation of the Richmond Coliseum might not have produced Baltimore's attendance, event schedule or financial results.

It is entirely possible that a comprehensive engineering and financial analysis would have concluded that renovating Richmond's Coliseum wasn't economically practical.

But that is precisely the point.

Where is that analysis?

Where was the competitive process in which multiple experienced arena operators and developers were asked specifically to determine what could be done with the existing building?

Where were the competing renovation prices?

Where was the comparison of a $75 million renovation against a $125 million renovation, a $200 million modernization or a new arena?

Where was the analysis of private financing?

Where was the examination of a long-term lease comparable in concept to Baltimore?

Where was the projected event calendar?

Where was the economic-impact study comparing a renovated Coliseum with demolition?

Those are the questions a renovation-focused RFP could have answered.


THE REAL PROBLEM WITH RICHMOND'S RFP

The criticism should therefore be precise.

It would be inaccurate to claim Richmond never considered renovation at all.

The 2017 RFP explicitly permitted rehabilitation.

But it is equally misleading to suggest that Richmond conducted an exhaustive competitive examination of renovation simply because the word "rehabilitation" appeared in the solicitation.

The RFP bundled the Coliseum into an enormous redevelopment project.

It received one response.

That response ultimately centered on replacing the Coliseum.

City Council later questioned whether the 92-day solicitation period and structure of the RFP limited alternative proposals.

Then, after Navy Hill failed, a private developer appeared with an unsolicited proposal specifically offering to preserve and renovate the Coliseum without the public financing structure contemplated for the new Navy Hill arena.

And a few years later, Baltimore demonstrated that a privately financed renovation of an aging downtown arena could produce substantial economic activity.

Put together, those facts create a legitimate public-policy question.


RICHMOND MAY HAVE ASKED THE WRONG QUESTION

For much of the debate, Richmond seemed consumed with:

How do we replace the Coliseum?

Perhaps the first question should have been:

What would it take to save it?

Not because renovation was necessarily the correct answer.

Not because every old building deserves preservation.

And not because Baltimore proves Richmond would have achieved identical results.

But because a city should understand the value of an asset before permanently disposing of it.

The Richmond Coliseum represents millions of dollars of previous public investment, a downtown entertainment location adjacent to the convention center and decades of civic history.

Before demolition becomes irreversible, Richmond citizens deserve something remarkably simple:

The numbers.

Issue a renovation-focused RFP.

Invite arena operators, developers, preservation specialists and private investors.

Give them access to the building.

Require structural assessments.

Require detailed renovation budgets.

Require financing plans.

Require projected event calendars.

Require operating projections.

Require estimates of hotel, restaurant, admissions, sales and other tax revenue.

Then compare those proposals with demolition and redevelopment.

Baltimore has already shown that "old arena" and "obsolete arena" do not necessarily mean the same thing.

The question for Richmond isn't whether Baltimore's solution can simply be copied.

The question is whether Richmond ever performed the competitive process necessary to determine whether its own Coliseum could have experienced a similar second life.

Based on the public record surrounding the 2017 RFP, the case that Richmond fully exhausted the renovation option is difficult to make.

And before the wrecking ball settles that question permanently, perhaps Richmond should finally conduct the process that could answer it.

Brian K. Telfair
Publisher & Editor | The Richmond Chronicle

Independent commentary and investigative analysis on Richmond government, public spending, economic development, and the decisions shaping the city’s future.

The Richmond Chronicle
Asking the questions City Hall would rather not answer.

Wednesday, August 12, 2026

The Richmond Coliseum: Closed First - Explained Later

 


Did Richmond Make the Case for Closing the Coliseum? The Only Defensible Answer is No.

For nearly half a century, the Richmond Coliseum was one of downtown Richmond's largest public assets.

Opened in 1971, it hosted concerts, basketball tournaments, graduations, family shows and major sporting events. Then, at the end of 2018, the Coliseum stopped operating.

The building has never reopened.

The question is no longer simply whether the Coliseum was old. It unquestionably was.

The more important question is:

Did Richmond demonstrate to its citizens that closing the Coliseum was necessary?

After examining the City's redevelopment solicitation, the chronology surrounding Navy Hill, subsequent City Council findings and the public-planning process that followed, the evidence points toward an uncomfortable answer:

No, at least not convincingly in the public record.

Richmond documented that the Coliseum was aging and in poor condition. What is much harder to find is the other half of the case: a comprehensive public analysis demonstrating that rehabilitation was financially or structurally unreasonable, that continued operation was impractical, and that closure produced a better outcome for taxpayers.

In fact, some of Richmond's own documents point in the opposite direction.


THE CITY SAID THE COLISEUM WAS IN POOR CONDITION

Start with what Richmond clearly established.

The City's November 2017 North of Broad/Downtown Neighborhood Redevelopment RFP described the Coliseum as "aged and in poor condition" and said the existing facility no longer met the community's needs.

Those were legitimate problems.

But the same City document immediately complicated the argument for closure.

Richmond said a "rejuvenated or new Coliseum" could stimulate significant economic development around it.

That word matters:

Rejuvenated.

The City's own solicitation did not declare the Coliseum unsalvageable.

It did not say rehabilitation was structurally impossible.

It did not say renovation was economically irrational.

Instead, Richmond explicitly contemplated saving it.

That is difficult to reconcile with the idea that closure was the only reasonable option.


THE CITY SPECIFICALLY INVITED REHABILITATION

This may be the single most important fact in the Coliseum story.

The 2017 RFP required developers to propose either:

demolition and replacement OR rehabilitation of the existing Coliseum.

That wasn't language written by preservation advocates.

It was written by the City.

And it creates an obvious contradiction.

If Richmond possessed compelling engineering and financial evidence demonstrating that the Coliseum could not reasonably be renovated, why did Richmond invite private developers to propose exactly that?

The logical conclusion is that, as late as November 2017, rehabilitation remained sufficiently plausible for Richmond to include it in a major redevelopment solicitation.

Approximately a year later, the Coliseum stopped operating.

What happened between those two points that transformed rehabilitation from a City-sanctioned possibility into a building sitting permanently dark?

That is the missing chapter.


WHERE WAS THE PUBLIC RENOVATION-VERSUS-CLOSURE STUDY?

For a decision of this magnitude, residents should have been presented with something resembling a balance sheet of alternatives.

Option A: Continue operating

What repairs were necessary?

How much would they cost?

How many additional years could the Coliseum reasonably operate?

Option B: Renovate

What would basic rehabilitation cost?

What would moderate modernization cost?

What would a comprehensive renovation cost?

How would those investments affect bookings and revenue?

Option C: Replace

What would a new arena cost?

How would it be financed?

What additional economic activity would it generate?

Option D: Close

What revenue would Richmond lose?

What events would leave the city?

How long could the property remain dormant?

What would happen if the redevelopment plan failed?

That last question proved particularly important.

Because the redevelopment plan did fail.

Yet the Coliseum had already closed.


THE TIMELINE IS DAMAGING TO THE CITY'S CASE

The sequence of events deserves more scrutiny than it has received.

November 2017: Richmond issues an RFP expressly allowing rehabilitation of the Coliseum.

2018: The redevelopment process moves forward.

December 31, 2018: Coliseum operations cease.

August 5, 2019: The Navy Hill redevelopment ordinances are formally introduced to City Council.

2020: Navy Hill fails to obtain Council approval.

Consider what that chronology means.

Richmond closed its downtown arena before City Council had approved the redevelopment plan expected to replace it.

The City therefore assumed the risk of losing the Coliseum without having secured the future that supposedly justified its closure.

And that risk materialized.

Navy Hill collapsed.

The Coliseum remained closed.


THE $2.9 MILLION QUESTION

The Coliseum also still carried approximately $2.9 million in outstanding debt, according to the 2017 RFP.

Developers were expected to address that debt in their redevelopment proposals.

Closing the arena therefore didn't instantly erase its financial obligations.

The proper taxpayer question wasn't merely:

How much will it cost to repair the Coliseum?

It should have been:

Which option gives Richmond taxpayers the greatest long-term value?

That calculation requires considering rehabilitation costs against revenues, economic activity, redevelopment value and the consequences of having no downtown arena.

Where is that complete public calculation?

That absence matters.


THEN CITY COUNCIL BEGAN QUESTIONING THE PROCESS

The strongest argument that Richmond's process deserves scrutiny doesn't come from Coliseum advocates.

It comes from Richmond City Council itself.

In Resolution 2020-R009, Council raised several significant concerns surrounding the redevelopment effort.

Richmond issued its RFP on November 9, 2017.

Responses were due February 9, 2018.

Approximately 92 days.

Council subsequently said that period "may have been too short" for competing developers to develop alternative proposals for such a complicated project.

The result?

The City negotiated with what Council described as the "sole respondent."

For a redevelopment project approaching $1.5 billion, Richmond effectively had one proposal to evaluate.

That's not robust competition.

And without robust competition, it becomes harder to determine whether Richmond received the best redevelopment concept, the best financing structure or the best solution for the Coliseum.


COUNCIL RAISED AN EVEN MORE TROUBLING ISSUE

Resolution 2020-R009 went further.

Council stated, "upon the information and belief of the Council," that the original private-sector redevelopment concept existed before Richmond issued its RFP and that uses contained in the solicitation were modeled on that proposal.

That does not establish wrongdoing.

But it raises a legitimate procurement question.

Was Richmond asking the development community:

What is the best possible future for this area?

Or was Richmond effectively asking:

Who can deliver something resembling a concept already under consideration?

That distinction matters because the Coliseum was caught in the middle.


COUNCIL HADN'T EVEN FORMALLY DECIDED WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN TO THE COLISEUM

Perhaps the most revealing finding in Council's resolution concerns the Coliseum itself.

Council noted that the RFP required demolition/replacement or rehabilitation of the arena.

But Council also stated that when the RFP was issued, City Council had not officially requested either action.

That deserves to sink in.

Richmond had already issued a redevelopment solicitation requiring a major intervention involving one of its largest public buildings before the City's legislative body had formally taken a position on whether that intervention should occur.

Council later suggested that the Coliseum requirement itself may have limited the number and variety of proposals.

That is not the picture of a thoroughly settled public policy decision.

It is evidence of a process moving ahead of the public debate.


THE PUBLIC PLANNING CAME AFTER THE COLISEUM CLOSED

Another fact makes the chronology even more problematic.

City Council acknowledged that Richmond had not completed the Richmond 300 comprehensive plan or recently conducted a planning process involving public input specifically for the Navy Hill area before the redevelopment solicitation.

The order matters.

A more conventional process would have looked something like this:

Public planning → identify community priorities → evaluate Coliseum alternatives → solicit proposals → select strategy → close facility if necessary.

Richmond's process effectively put major redevelopment decisions ahead of comprehensive public planning.

Only after Navy Hill failed did Richmond undertake the City Center Small Area Plan process with extensive public participation.

The City conducted public meetings in June and July 2020.

Additional planning, surveys, workshops and public engagement followed.

That was good government.

But it was late.

The Coliseum had already been closed for roughly a year and a half.

Richmond eventually asked citizens what they wanted for the area after it had already taken the area's most important public facility out of service.


THE MISSING ENGINEERING CASE

The most important evidence should be the easiest to identify.

If Richmond closed the Coliseum because renovation was impractical, citizens should be able to point to the definitive engineering analysis demonstrating it.

What were the building's major structural problems?

Which systems required replacement?

What work was immediately necessary?

What work could have been phased?

How many additional years could the Coliseum have operated following repairs?

Most importantly:

What would each option have cost?

Saying that a building is "aged and in poor condition" doesn't answer those questions.

It describes the problem.

It doesn't establish the solution.


POOR CONDITION IS NOT THE SAME AS BEYOND REPAIR

This distinction is critical.

The argument surrounding the Coliseum has sometimes blurred three different concepts:

Old.

Poor condition.

Economically impossible to renovate.

Those are not synonyms.

A building can be all three.

But proving the first two does not automatically prove the third.

Richmond clearly established that the Coliseum was old.

The City documented that it was in poor condition.

What remains considerably less clear from the publicly accessible record is whether Richmond established that rehabilitation would have been an unreasonable public investment.

And Richmond's own 2017 RFP makes that gap harder to ignore because the City itself was still inviting rehabilitation proposals.


WHAT ABOUT DEFERRED MAINTENANCE?

There is another question that deserves investigation.

If the Coliseum was in poor condition by 2017, how did it get there?

How much capital maintenance had Richmond deferred during the preceding decade?

Which major building systems were known to need replacement?

When were those needs identified?

How much money would timely maintenance have required?

Were necessary improvements postponed because City leaders expected redevelopment?

And did deferred maintenance eventually help create the very conditions used to justify closing the building?

That doesn't mean anyone deliberately allowed the Coliseum to deteriorate.

But taxpayers deserve a maintenance history before accepting deterioration itself as justification for demolition.


THE CITY CLOSED AN ECONOMIC ASSET WITHOUT A GUARANTEED REPLACEMENT

A downtown arena isn't merely a building.

Every concert, tournament, graduation and family show potentially brings people downtown.

Those visitors may pay for parking.

They may eat at restaurants.

They may stay in hotels.

They may visit bars.

They generate admissions, meals, lodging and other economic activity.

Closing the Coliseum therefore carried an opportunity cost.

The relevant question should have been:

How much economic activity would Richmond lose by having no comparable downtown arena, and for how long?

That question became even more important once Navy Hill failed.

Instead of transitioning directly from an old arena to a new development, Richmond entered a prolonged period with a closed public facility occupying a major downtown site.

That possibility should have been part of the original risk analysis.

Was it?

Citizens deserve to see it.


THE NAVY HILL FAILURE CHANGES HOW THE CLOSURE SHOULD BE JUDGED

Had Richmond closed the Coliseum in 2018 and immediately replaced it with a successful redevelopment project, the decision would be easier to defend.

That isn't what happened.

The Coliseum closed.

Navy Hill went to Council.

Council raised concerns.

The project failed.

More planning followed.

Years passed.

That sequence exposes the fundamental weakness of closing the building before the City's redevelopment strategy was secure.

Richmond surrendered the bird in hand before it knew whether the redevelopment bird would ever land.

It didn't.


SO, DID RICHMOND MAKE THE CASE?

Based on the publicly available evidence examined here:

The answer leans strongly toward no.

That conclusion does not mean the Coliseum should necessarily have remained open forever.

It doesn't prove renovation would have been cheap.

It doesn't establish that preservation is still financially practical today.

And it doesn't mean demolition can never be justified.

It means something narrower and more troubling:

Richmond appears to have made the decision before it adequately made the public case.

The City established that the Coliseum was old.

It established that the building was in poor condition.

But those facts alone were insufficient to establish that closure was the best option.

The City itself considered rehabilitation plausible enough to include it in the 2017 RFP.

Council had not formally requested demolition or rehabilitation when that solicitation was issued.

The RFP generated a sole respondent.

Council later questioned whether the 92-day response period limited competition.

Comprehensive public planning for the area largely followed rather than preceded the Coliseum's closure.

And the redevelopment strategy associated with replacing the old arena ultimately failed.

Taken together, those aren't minor procedural details.

They form a pattern.


THE DOCUMENTS RICHMOND SHOULD RELEASE

If City Hall wants to demonstrate that the decision was justified, the solution is straightforward.

Put the complete record in one publicly accessible place.

Release or clearly identify:

  • the engineering assessments used before closure;

  • detailed Coliseum maintenance records;

  • capital improvement estimates;

  • basic rehabilitation estimates;

  • comprehensive renovation estimates;

  • projected operating revenues following renovation;

  • event-booking projections;

  • economic-impact estimates;

  • analyses of the financial consequences of closure;

  • evaluations of every rehabilitation proposal;

  • internal recommendations concerning closure;

  • communications identifying who authorized the shutdown;

  • City Council briefings concerning the decision; and

  • any cost-benefit analysis comparing closure, renovation and replacement.

Then let Richmond citizens examine the evidence themselves.

If those documents demonstrate that rehabilitation was financially irresponsible, the City's case becomes substantially stronger.

If those analyses were never performed, that tells citizens something equally important.


THIS ISN'T REALLY ABOUT NOSTALGIA

The Richmond Coliseum debate should not be reduced to whether residents have fond memories of concerts or basketball games.

The larger issue is government accountability.

The Coliseum belonged to the public.

Its deterioration cost the public.

Its closure affected the public.

Its lost economic activity affected the city.

And its demolition will be permanent.

A decision of that magnitude should have been supported by a correspondingly strong public record before the doors were locked.

The evidence available today suggests Richmond did not meet that standard.


THE VERDICT

The Coliseum may have needed millions of dollars in work.

It may eventually have needed replacement.

Renovation might even have proved uneconomical.

But that is precisely what Richmond should have demonstrated.

Instead, the record shows a City that called the building old and in poor condition while simultaneously inviting developers to rehabilitate it; a redevelopment process that produced only one respondent; a City Council that subsequently questioned important aspects of that process; and comprehensive public planning that largely occurred after the Coliseum had already gone dark.

Those facts lead to a difficult conclusion:

Richmond did not convincingly make the public case for closing the Coliseum before it closed it.

Perhaps evidence exists somewhere that would change that conclusion.

If so, City Hall should produce it.

Because after nearly eight years of a darkened arena, citizens shouldn't still have to ask why their Coliseum was closed without being able to pull up a clear, comprehensive report explaining exactly why closure was superior to renovation.

The burden shouldn't be on Richmond residents to prove that the Coliseum could have been saved.

The burden was on Richmond to prove that closing it was the better choice.

Based on the public record examined here, Richmond has not convincingly met that burden.

Brian K. Telfair
Publisher & Editor | The Richmond Chronicle

Independent commentary and investigative analysis on Richmond government, public spending, economic development, and the decisions shaping the city’s future.

The Richmond Chronicle
Asking the questions City Hall would rather not answer.

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