Council In Chaos: Richmond Cannot Keep Governing By Deadline

The Chaos at City Council Was a Warning

By Brian K. Telfair | The Richmond Chronicle

Monday night's Richmond City Council meeting did not simply go off the rails.

It exposed a larger problem at City Hall:

Richmond is making major decisions under increasingly compressed deadlines, and eventually something was going to break.

This time, it did.

A proposed 25-year solar agreement involving 39 city buildings reached Council with officials warning that Richmond needed to act by September 30 to preserve important financial benefits associated with federal tax incentives.

The ordinances were formally introduced September 21.

Council was asked to vote September 28.

Twenty-five years. Thirty-nine city properties. Roughly one week of formal Council review.

Then the approval motion failed 4-5.

What followed was procedural confusion, a recess for legal consultation, an accusation of apparent corruption from Councilmember Reva Trammell, and ultimately adjournment without resolving the legislation.

The solar agreement may have triggered the chaos.

But the real problem was the process that produced it.

The Administration Had Months. Council Had Days.

The Avula administration says the city had worked on the solar proposal for months and conducted extensive due diligence.

That is important context.

But it also makes the compressed Council timetable harder to understand.

Concerns about the agreement were not discovered at the last minute.

In an August email obtained by The Richmonder, Chief Administrative Officer Odie Donald II wrote that "a lot of risk" had been expressed regarding the agreement and indicated those concerns had been communicated to Mayor Danny Avula.

A senior city attorney also raised potential legal and financial concerns, including limited indemnification and the absence of a decommissioning bond.

Donald later told Council those concerns had been sufficiently addressed and that he was "extremely comfortable" with the final agreement.

Fair enough.

But Council has an independent responsibility to determine whether it is equally comfortable.

And that requires time.

If the administration spent months negotiating, reviewing and resolving concerns about a 25-year agreement, why was the legislative branch left with roughly a week of formal review before being asked to vote?

The administration had months. Council had days.

That is the problem.

A 25-Year Contract Should Not Become a Fire Drill

Councilmembers were not merely debating whether solar energy is good policy.

They were asking questions about this contract.

Insurance.

Indemnification.

Roof conditions.

Termination costs.

Financial exposure.

The business entities involved.

Those are not obstructionist questions. They are oversight questions.

And when taxpayers could be bound to an arrangement lasting a quarter-century, Council should be asking them.

Yet hanging over the discussion was the September 30 deadline.

Act now or potentially lose financial benefits.

That puts Council in an untenable position.

Approve a complicated agreement before members are fully comfortable with it, or risk being blamed for losing millions of dollars in potential savings.

Government should not routinely operate that way.

If a deadline is foreseeable, government should plan backward from it.

Council scrutiny should be built into the schedule, not squeezed into whatever time remains at the end.

Then the Process Broke Down

The approval motion failed 4-5.

That should have been a moment of clarity.

Instead, it produced more confusion.

Questions arose over what motion could be made next, whether the legislation could remain alive and what Council's rules permitted.

The meeting recessed while officials consulted with the City Attorney.

The public watched Richmond's legislative body trying to determine the procedural consequences of the vote it had just taken.

Then came the accusation that dramatically raised the temperature of the room.

Councilmember Reva Trammell suggested that what was happening appeared corrupt.

Council President Cynthia Newbille rejected that characterization.

Whether one agrees with Trammell's language is almost beside the larger point.

How did the process deteriorate badly enough for that accusation to be made in the Council chamber?

That is the question City Hall should be asking.

Because when officials appear to be searching for another procedural route after a majority has voted against something, even legitimate parliamentary maneuvering can create public suspicion.

And suspicion is poison to public trust.

This Was a Process Failure

The temptation will be to blame Monday night on personalities.

That would be convenient.

It would also miss the point.

The chaos was the culmination of a chain of events:

A complicated long-term agreement.

Internal concerns about risk.

A looming deadline.

A compressed Council review.

Pressure to act.

A divided Council.

A failed vote.

Then procedural uncertainty over what happened next.

That is not merely a bad meeting.

That is a failed process.

And responsibility for examining that process belongs both to Council and to the Avula administration.

The Avula Administration Needs to Slow Down

Mayor Avula came into office promising collaboration and a different approach to City Hall.

But collaboration requires something government often undervalues:

Time.

Time for Council to review.

Time for attorneys to raise concerns.

Time for those concerns to be resolved.

Time for the public to understand what is being proposed.

And time for elected officials to say, "We aren't ready," without immediately confronting a financial cliff.

This matters beyond solar.

Richmond faces enormous decisions involving City Center, the Coliseum, the Diamond District, Code Refresh, schools, utilities, economic development and future budgets.

Many will involve tens or hundreds of millions of dollars.

Richmond cannot develop a governing culture where consequential decisions repeatedly arrive with the same warning:

Vote now.

Act now.

The deadline is approaching.

Sometimes urgency is unavoidable.

But when urgency becomes routine, it stops being an exception.

It becomes a governing method.

And that is dangerous.

Council Is Supposed to Apply the Brakes

Richmond's system intentionally divides authority.

The administration proposes, negotiates and recommends.

Council legislates, appropriates and exercises oversight.

Those roles are supposed to create friction.

That friction is not dysfunction.

It is a safeguard.

Councilmembers questioning a 25-year agreement are not necessarily standing in the administration's way. They are performing the job voters elected them to perform.

The administration may believe it has negotiated an excellent agreement.

Council still gets to independently decide whether it agrees.

And Council should have sufficient time to make that determination.

Richmond Deserves a Timeline

Before Monday night's meeting disappears into the next City Hall controversy, Richmond deserves a simple accounting of how this happened.

When did the administration know September 30 was critical?

When did negotiations begin?

When were legal and financial concerns identified?

When did CAO Donald communicate those concerns to Mayor Avula?

When were they considered resolved?

When did Council receive the final material necessary for meaningful review?

And why did a 25-year commitment reach Council with so little time remaining?

Those questions are not about assigning motives.

They are about improving governance.

Because if Richmond does not understand how this happened, it will happen again.

Stop Governing by Crisis

The lesson from Monday night is bigger than solar panels.

Richmond cannot keep governing by deadline.

A deadline cannot substitute for deliberation.

Urgency cannot substitute for oversight.

And an administration's confidence in its proposal cannot substitute for Council independently examining it.

The solar agreement may ultimately prove financially beneficial.

The administration may ultimately demonstrate that the contractual risks were adequately addressed.

Those questions remain open to debate.

But Monday night demonstrated something else.

A 25-year decision became a one-week legislative sprint.

A divided Council became a confused Council.

A failed vote became a procedural scramble.

And that scramble became an accusation of corruption.

That is what government by deadline eventually produces.

Richmond deserves deliberate government, particularly when the decisions will outlast the people currently making them.

Because when every major decision becomes an emergency, eventually the emergency is City Hall itself.

The Diamond District: What Went Wrong? (Part I)

 

Richmond wanted a new ballpark and a new neighborhood. Instead, it created a deal with too many moving parts, too many unfinished pieces and no obvious person responsible for making sure everything worked together.

The Diamond District was supposed to be simple.

Build a new stadium for the Flying Squirrels.

Use the stadium to help attract private development.

Build housing, affordable housing, restaurants, offices, a hotel, parks and new infrastructure around it.

Turn underused public land into a new Richmond neighborhood.

Instead, Richmond created one of the most complicated development deals in the city.

The stadium got built.

But other pieces moved more slowly. Important agreements were still being completed in 2026. Disputes developed among parties. And litigation followed.

So what went wrong?

The simplest answer may be the best one:

Richmond made the deal too complicated.

Too Many Moving Parts

Look at everyone involved.

The City.

The Economic Development Authority.

City Council.

Diamond District Partners.

The Flying Squirrels.

VCU.

Sports Backers.

A Community Development Authority.

Bondholders.

Lenders.

Lawyers.

Consultants.

And multiple agreements connecting them.

Large developments naturally involve many parties.

But every additional party creates another relationship that has to work.

And in the Diamond District, many pieces depended upon other pieces being completed first.

Infrastructure depended upon land.

Development depended upon infrastructure.

Some land transactions required additional agreements.

VCU needed an agreement to use the stadium.

The Squirrels had their own contractual rights.

The developer had development obligations.

The EDA had financing and contractual responsibilities.

The City had financial responsibilities.

It became a domino line.

If one piece moved slowly, other pieces could move slowly too.

Then the Financing Changed

The deal became even more complicated when the financing changed.

Richmond initially contemplated one financing approach.

Then it changed course.

In 2024, City Council unanimously approved a revised Diamond District package.

Council authorized up to $170 million in general-obligation bonds for the stadium.

It also approved an infrastructure-financing structure involving up to $40 million in EDA revenue bonds, supported by a City cooperation agreement subject to annual appropriation.

Those were maximum authorizations, not necessarily the amounts ultimately borrowed.

But forget the financial jargon for a moment.

The important point is this:

Richmond was changing how it planned to pay for the project while the project was moving forward.

That should have been a flashing yellow light.

If the financing changed, Richmond should have stopped and asked whether the risks had changed too.

Then the Development Team Changed

The development team changed too.

The original proposal involved a group that included Thalhimer Realty Partners, Republic Properties and Loop Capital.

That relationship later fractured.

Republic sued Thalhimer and Loop Capital. The allegations were disputed and are not findings of wrongdoing.

But taxpayers don't need to become experts in that litigation to understand the basic issue.

Richmond selected a development proposal from a particular team.

Then the team changed.

That should produce a simple question:

Are we still getting the deal we originally selected?

Government should be able to answer that question clearly.

Too Much Was Left for Later

This may have been Richmond's biggest mistake.

Too many important pieces were still being worked out after the larger project was already moving.

Sports Backers controlled property needed for later development.

VCU needed its own arrangements.

Infrastructure depended upon property access.

Private development depended upon infrastructure.

Different agreements had different parties and different deadlines.

And while all of that was being sorted out, Richmond was building the stadium.

By May 2026, the Avula administration was still announcing major agreements involving VCU, Sports Backers, the EDA and Diamond District Partners.

Those agreements represented progress.

But they also raise an obvious question.

Why were important pieces of the Diamond District still being resolved after the stadium had already opened?

That gets to the heart of the problem.

Richmond built the centerpiece before every piece surrounding it was locked into place.

The Stadium Was Supposed to Be the Beginning

The Diamond District was never supposed to be just a baseball stadium.

That is important.

The stadium was supposed to anchor something much bigger.

Housing.

Affordable housing.

Restaurants.

Retail.

Offices.

A hotel.

Parks.

Infrastructure.

Private investment.

A new neighborhood.

That larger development helped justify the public investment.

So Richmond cannot measure success simply by pointing toward the stadium and saying:

We built it.

Of course Richmond built it.

The question is whether Richmond gets everything that was supposed to come with it.

Then Came the Lawsuit

The Flying Squirrels' ownership entity eventually sued the City, the EDA and others.

The lawsuit includes allegations concerning obligations associated with the broader mixed-use development around the stadium.

Those allegations are disputed and have not been decided by a court.

But the lawsuit matters for another reason.

It exposed the weakness in the structure.

The stadium could move forward while the development surrounding it moved at a different speed.

That should concern Richmond because the two were supposed to work together.

The stadium was the anchor.

The neighborhood was the economic-development promise.

Richmond needed both.

Where Was the EDA?

The Economic Development Authority appears throughout the Diamond District paperwork.

The EDA was involved with financing.

Development agreements.

The stadium structure.

Infrastructure.

Land transactions.

Sports Backers.

Other negotiations.

That makes the EDA one of the most important players in the entire deal.

But it also raises a very basic question:

Who was watching the whole project?

Not just the EDA's piece.

Not just the stadium.

Not just infrastructure.

Not just the developer.

Everything.

Because someone needed to be looking at the entire board.

If everybody was responsible for one square, who was responsible for the chessboard?

And Where Was City Council?

City Council cannot escape that question either.

Council did not negotiate every contract.

But Council approved the deal.

Unanimously.

Council approved the revised development structure.

Council authorized the stadium financing.

Council approved the infrastructure-financing structure.

Council created the Community Development Authority.

Council approved the City's cooperation arrangement with the EDA.

Voting yes wasn't the end of Council's job.

It should have been the beginning of oversight.

Council should have kept asking simple questions:

Are we on schedule?

Is the private development happening?

Have costs changed?

Have agreements changed?

Are taxpayers taking on more risk?

Is the developer meeting its obligations?

Who is responsible for delays?

And what happens if something doesn't work?

Those questions don't require hundreds of pages of legal documents.

They require oversight.

Keep It Simple

Strip away the bonds.

Strip away the acronyms.

Strip away the development agreements.

Strip away the organizational charts.

The Diamond District problem becomes much easier to understand.

Richmond wanted to accomplish two things:

Build a stadium.

Build a neighborhood around it.

The stadium got built.

The neighborhood is still developing.

And the road between those two outcomes became filled with financing changes, property transactions, additional agreements, disputes and lawsuits.

That does not mean the Diamond District will ultimately fail.

It does mean Richmond should study how it became so complicated.

Because the lesson may be remarkably simple.

Don't create a public project so complicated that nobody can easily explain who is responsible when something goes wrong.

One Simple Question

Richmond doesn't need another 300-page document to explain the Diamond District.

It needs clear answers.

What was promised?

What has been delivered?

What remains unfinished?

How much public money is involved?

Who is responsible for each unfinished piece?

And when will it be completed?

That's it.

The Diamond District may still become the neighborhood Richmond was promised.

But taxpayers should not need lawyers, accountants and a stack of EDA meeting packets to understand whether the deal is working.

The stadium is standing.

The larger development is still unfolding.

And before Richmond takes on another project this complicated, City Hall should answer one very simple question:

Who was actually in charge?

Is Danny Avula The Right Mayor For Richmond? Part III - Is Richmond Getting A Full-Time Mayor?

 

Richmond has full-time problems. The question is whether it has a mayor giving them full-time attention.

Forget the speeches.

Forget the plans.

Forget the press conferences announcing the next initiative.

Richmond has problems that need to be solved.

Utility customers have spent months dealing with problems following the rollout of the City's new billing system. The City acknowledges continuing customer-service, billing and payment issues and says it has added staff and implemented fixes.

The Diamond District remains a work in progress.

The Richmond Coliseum has been closed since 2019.

City Hall is still trying to improve basic government operations.

Code Refresh is consuming enormous political and administrative attention.

And Richmond continues confronting the everyday issues residents actually experience: taxes, schools, infrastructure, economic development and whether City Hall can reliably deliver basic services.

Which brings us to a question that deserves an answer:

Is Danny Avula focused enough on solving Richmond's problems?

And underneath that question is another:

Does Richmond effectively have a part-time mayor?

Avula Still Works at Chippenham Hospital

This isn't speculation.

The City of Richmond's own biography currently says:

“Danny is a pediatrician and works as a hospitalist at Chippenham Hospital.”

That sentence deserves more attention than it has received.

Before taking office, Avula told Richmond Magazine that he was generally working as a hospitalist about once a month and expected he would have to reevaluate that arrangement once he became mayor.

So what happened?

Does Avula still work once a month?

More?

Less?

Does he work three days per week, as has sometimes been suggested?

I have found no reliable current documentation establishing that three-day figure, so it should not be repeated as fact.

But that makes the solution remarkably simple:

Tell us.

How many hospital shifts does Richmond's mayor currently work?

How many hours?

How many days each month?

And has that schedule increased or decreased since he took office?

This isn't an accusation.

It's a basic transparency question about the person Richmond elected to run its government.

Because This Is Not a Ceremonial Job

Richmond's mayor isn't cutting ribbons and shaking hands for a living.

Richmond operates under a strong-mayor system.

The mayor is the city's elected chief executive.

That means the mayor establishes priorities, appoints the Chief Administrative Officer, proposes budgets and ultimately bears political responsibility for the performance of the executive branch.

And this particular executive branch has plenty on its plate.

The question isn't whether Avula can technically hold another job.

The question is:

Should running Richmond leave enough professional bandwidth for another significant job?

Look at What's Happening

The utility billing rollout alone should command enormous attention.

The City acknowledges that problems followed the May 26 launch of its new customer-service systems, including billing and payment-processing issues. Months later, DPU's own account-update page continues tracking billing, payment and customer-service problems.

That's not abstract policy.

That's government failing at one of its most basic jobs:

sending people an accurate bill and properly crediting their payment.

And it comes after Richmond's January 2025 water crisis placed the reliability of basic city services squarely in the spotlight.

Meanwhile, Avula is pushing major initiatives such as Code Refresh, which his administration describes as a transformation of Richmond's decades-old zoning code.

Code Refresh may be good policy, bad policy or something in between.

That's not the point here.

The question is one of focus.

Why does City Hall sometimes appear more capable of developing ambitious new policies than reliably executing the basic functions it already has?

Fix Richmond Before Trying to Reinvent Richmond

That may be the defining question of the Avula administration.

Richmond doesn't lack vision documents.

It doesn't lack studies.

It doesn't lack consultants.

It doesn't lack plans.

It doesn't lack announcements.

It lacks confidence that City Hall can consistently execute.

Even Avula has acknowledged the importance of getting the basics right. When Richmond successfully issued its real-estate tax bills in December 2025, he said that basic functions are central to public trust and that his job is to identify what isn't working and fix it.

Exactly.

So apply that standard everywhere.

Fix utility billing.

Get the Diamond District moving.

Develop a coherent downtown strategy.

Resolve the Coliseum question through serious economic analysis and competition.

Improve the delivery of basic city services.

Demand accountability from department heads.

Strengthen economic development.

And demonstrate that Richmond City Hall can execute before piling another transformative initiative onto its desk.

A Mayor Cannot Personally Fix Everything

To be fair, Avula cannot personally repair every broken city system.

Nor should he.

Richmond has a Chief Administrative Officer, department directors and thousands of employees.

Delegation is part of executive leadership.

But delegation is not the same thing as detachment.

When problems persist, the mayor should be asking:

Why isn't this fixed?

Who is responsible?

What's the deadline?

What went wrong?

And what are we changing so it doesn't happen again?

That is executive leadership.

The mayor doesn't have to turn every wrench.

But he should know why the machine keeps breaking.

So Is Avula a Part-Time Mayor?

We don't yet have enough publicly documented information to answer that fairly.

And that's precisely why City Hall should provide the information.

Avula's official biography says he still works at Chippenham.

Fine.

How much?

If it's one hospital shift every month or two, say so.

If it's several days a week, say that.

If he has largely stopped practicing medicine since becoming mayor, update the biography and settle the question.

Transparency would turn speculation into fact.

And Richmonders deserve facts.

Because the mayor's outside employment becomes more relevant when residents are simultaneously being asked for patience while City Hall works through major operational problems.

The Richmond Chronicle Bottom Line

This isn't about Danny Avula being a doctor.

It's about Danny Avula being mayor.

Richmond elected him to lead a city with enormous challenges and enormous potential.

The job comes with a budget measured in hundreds of millions of dollars, major infrastructure responsibilities, economic-development decisions, public-safety obligations and a bureaucracy whose failures can directly affect people's homes and bank accounts.

That is a full-time responsibility.

So City Hall should answer two simple questions:

How much time does Danny Avula currently spend working outside his mayoral duties?

And then Richmonders can decide the larger question for themselves:

Is their mayor sufficiently focused on solving Richmond's problems?

Because Richmond doesn't need another plan explaining what City Hall hopes to become.

It needs City Hall to work.

It doesn't need every problem studied indefinitely.

It needs problems solved.

And it doesn't need leadership whose attention is spread too thin.

Richmond's problems are full time.

The mayor's attention should match the size of the job.

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.

Is Danny Avula the Right Mayor for Richmond? Part II

 Is Danny Avula Listening to Richmond?

Code Refresh and the Richmond Coliseum raise the same fundamental question: Can public input actually change City Hall's direction?

Mayor Danny Avula says Richmond's Code Refresh process has been an exercise in listening.

That's his assessment.

Richmonders can judge the record for themselves.

Because the real test of listening isn't how many meetings City Hall holds, how many surveys it collects or how many times officials use the word engagement.

The test is whether public concern can actually change the decision, the timetable or the direction.

Code Refresh is putting that question squarely in front of Richmond.

So is the Richmond Coliseum.

Code Refresh Is Bigger Than a Zoning Amendment

Richmond isn't tweaking a few zoning regulations.

Code Refresh is the city's first comprehensive zoning rewrite since 1976. It involves developing new zoning categories and ultimately applying them across Richmond. The city argues the rewrite could expand housing opportunities, encourage walkability and help address affordability.

Those are serious objectives.

And precisely because the stakes are so high, Richmond should get this right.

This is a generational decision.

So why should speed be treated as success?

Avula Says City Hall Has Listened

There is evidence supporting Avula's argument.

His administration has held extensive public engagement, and the proposal has changed. Draft Three backed away from some controversial elements of earlier versions, including the broader duplex proposal.

Avula has described those revisions as evidence of “listening well.”

That matters.

But it doesn't end the conversation.

Because there's a difference between:

“We heard you and changed our proposal.”

and:

“We heard you and are willing to reconsider our timetable or direction.”

That's where Code Refresh becomes a test of Avula's leadership style.

Why October 13?

Draft Three wasn't released until August.

Yet Avula is pushing the process toward adoption this fall, with October 13 being discussed as a target adoption date.

Why?

If Richmond needs another three months to examine the proposal, what exactly is lost?

What about six months?

Richmond won't stop growing. 

Its housing challenges won't disappear, but neither will they magically be solved October 14.

Meanwhile, some residents and neighborhood organizations continue raising concerns, and petition efforts have sought greater public influence.

Petitions don't prove Code Refresh is wrong.

They prove the disagreement is real.

And when citizens move beyond comments at public meetings and begin organizing petitions, City Hall should at least consider whether the issue isn't simply communication.

Maybe some residents understand the proposal perfectly well.

Maybe they disagree.

Listening Sometimes Means Slowing Down

This is where Avula risks appearing tone deaf to residents asking City Hall to slow the process.

That doesn't mean he hasn't listened at all. 

The record shows extensive engagement and changes to the proposal.

But public engagement can't simply mean:

We'll listen until it's time to proceed.

Sometimes listening means changing a provision.

Sometimes it means changing the timetable.

Sometimes it means taking another look at the entire approach.

Speed isn't competence.

If Code Refresh is strong policy, additional scrutiny shouldn't threaten it.

October 13 is a date.

It isn't a reason.

Then Look at the Coliseum

The same question about listening appears in an entirely different City Hall debate.

The Richmond Coliseum has been closed since 2019. 

Avula didn't close it, and the current administration didn't create the years of uncertainty surrounding the property.

But his administration is now moving toward demolition.

That makes the decision his administration's responsibility too.

The issue isn't whether everyone agrees the Coliseum should be saved.

They don't.

The issue is whether Richmond has adequately tested the alternatives before making an irreversible decision.

Where was the standalone competitive RFP for the Coliseum?

Where was the open invitation to arena operators, developers, entertainment companies and private investors to tell Richmond whether renovation, adaptive reuse or private redevelopment could work?

Maybe nobody would submit a financially credible proposal.

Fine.

Then prove it.

Issue the RFP.

Test the market.

Put the responses in front of the public.

Then make the decision.

Demolition Is Different

This distinction matters.

Code Refresh can be amended.

A development agreement can be renegotiated.

Plans can be revised.

A demolished Coliseum cannot be reconsidered.

That's why the standard for public scrutiny should be higher, not lower.

The Commonwealth has provided $15 million specifically to support demolition, and Avula's administration has been working toward taking the building down.

But having money available for demolition doesn't answer the underlying policy question:

Is demolition the best use of the asset?

And it certainly doesn't establish that the private market has no interest in another use.

Only testing that market can begin answering that question.

Where Was the Public Decision?

The Coliseum also raises an uncomfortable public-engagement question.

Richmonders never participated in a citywide public process specifically asking whether the Coliseum should be closed.

They haven't been presented with the results of a standalone Coliseum RFP comparing demolition against renovation, reuse or private investment because no such standalone competitive process has been conducted.

Yet the city is moving toward the most irreversible option.

That doesn't prove demolition is wrong.

It means Richmond deserves to see the case for demolition tested against alternatives before the wrecking equipment arrives.

If public engagement matters for determining what can be built throughout Richmond under Code Refresh, shouldn't it also matter before Richmond destroys a major public asset?

Two Issues. The Same Question.

Code Refresh and the Coliseum are very different policy questions.

One concerns Richmond's future zoning.

The other concerns the future of a downtown public asset.

But they expose the same tension.

With Code Refresh, some residents are saying:

Slow down.

With the Coliseum, some residents are saying:

Before you tear it down, prove there isn't another option.

Neither demand requires City Hall to agree.

That's important.

Listening doesn't mean citizens automatically get their way.

It means their concerns have a genuine opportunity to affect what happens next.

Public Engagement or Public Acceptance?

City Hall can hold meetings.

It can publish presentations.

It can collect thousands of comments.

It can create websites, FAQs and interactive maps.

All of that has value.

But none of it answers the most important question:

Does public input actually have power?

Can it change a proposal?

Can it change a timetable?

Can it trigger additional analysis?

Can it produce an RFP?

Can it cause City Hall to reconsider an assumption?

And, if the evidence warrants it, can it change the final decision?

Those questions mark the difference between public engagement and simply seeking public acceptance.

Listening Means Being Willing to Change Course

Avula believes Code Refresh is important to Richmond's future. He has every right to make that case.

His administration may also ultimately conclude that demolishing the Coliseum is Richmond's best option.

But neither conclusion should be protected from additional scrutiny.

October 13 isn't more important than getting Code Refresh right.

And a demolition timetable isn't more important than determining whether the Coliseum has another economically viable future.

Test the zoning proposal.

Listen to the neighborhoods.

Test the Coliseum market.

Show Richmond the results.

Then decide.

Part I asked:

Is Danny Avula the right mayor for Richmond?

Part II asks something more specific:

Is Danny Avula really listening to Richmond, or is City Hall listening only until it's time to move forward?

Sometimes citizens aren't confused.

Sometimes they simply disagree.

And sometimes the most meaningful evidence that government is listening isn't another public meeting.

It's what government is willing to change after the meeting is over.

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.

 

Is Danny Avula the Right Mayor for Richmond?

Richmond has heard what Danny Avula inherited. Now it should judge what he is doing about it.

Danny Avula has been mayor long enough for Richmond to ask a question more important than what he inherited:

Is he the right mayor to solve it?

This isn't about whether Avula is intelligent, compassionate or sincere.

It's about leadership and results.

The Diamond District has been plagued by delays and litigation. Utility billing problems affected thousands. Richmond Public Schools needs enormous investment. Downtown continues to struggle. The Coliseum remains closed while demolition moves forward without the standalone competition that could establish whether renovation or reuse makes economic sense. And the sweeping Code Refresh zoning overhaul is generating enough opposition that citizens are pursuing petitions to force the issue before voters.

Meanwhile, Richmond is asking taxpayers for more.

The question isn't whether Richmond has problems.

It's whether Avula is demonstrating that he can solve them.

The Diamond District: Avula Owns the Bet Now

Avula didn't negotiate the Diamond District deal.

But he has defended continuing it.

In March 2026, Axios Richmond reported that Avula said he would not have walked away from the deal even if he had been mayor when it was negotiated.

He called Richmond's investment a “pretty good bet.”

But Richmond isn't playing with Monopoly money.

The project involves substantial public financial commitments and taxpayer exposure. Avula himself acknowledged that Richmond carries more risk. A risk that equals $130M.

Now the Richmond Flying Squirrels' ownership has sued the city and the Diamond District developer over alleged breaches associated with the project.

That doesn't mean taxpayer-backed debt has become a taxpayer loss. But it does mean Avula can't have it both ways.

He cannot say he inherited the deal, say he would have continued it anyway, call it a “pretty good bet,” and then leave responsibility entirely with the previous administration when problems emerge.

Avula inherited the hand. He chose to keep playing it.

Richmond gets to judge the result.

Utility Billing: The Basic Competence Test

Then came utility billing.

Thousands of customers were affected by account and payment-processing problems following implementation of Richmond's new billing system.

Forget the technology jargon.

City sends bill.

Resident pays bill.

City credits payment.

That's basic government.

Yet Richmonders were left questioning whether payments were properly posted and balances were accurate.

The full taxpayer cost of correcting those problems hasn't been publicly established. But the management question remains:

How did thousands of residents effectively become City Hall's quality-control department?

A mayor doesn't operate billing software.

But a mayor is responsible for an administration capable of making government work.

Schools Need Money. Where Is the Growth?

Richmond Public Schools faces massive facilities needs.

Avula supports an additional one-cent sales tax to help finance school construction.

Maybe voters decide it's necessary.

But before asking Richmonders for another penny, City Hall should answer another question:

Where is the aggressive strategy for generating new recurring revenue?

Where is the dramatic expansion of Richmond's commercial tax base?

Where is the downtown revival strategy?

Where are the transformative economic-development projects?

Raising taxes creates revenue.

That's arithmetic.

Growing the city creates revenue too. That's leadership.

Richmond needs a mayor who can do more than identify needs and find another tax to pay for them.

The Coliseum: Why Not Test the Market?

The Richmond Coliseum has been closed since 2019.

Avula didn't close it.

But he now leads the city deciding whether it disappears.

Virginia has provided $15 million specifically to support demolition, and Avula has pushed an aggressive timeline for moving forward.

Yet one fundamental question remains unanswered:

Why hasn't Richmond issued a standalone competitive RFP for the Coliseum before making an irreversible decision?

Invite developers, arena operators, entertainment companies and private capital.

Ask for renovation, reuse and redevelopment proposals.

Maybe nobody produces a viable plan.

Then Richmond would know.

But while City Hall argues that it desperately needs additional revenue, it should be aggressively testing the economic potential of assets taxpayers already own.

Before asking Richmonders for another penny, prove you've explored every reasonable opportunity to generate one.

Code Refresh: Leadership Also Means Listening

Then there is Code Refresh, Richmond's sweeping rewrite of its zoning ordinance.

The administration argues that the overhaul can increase housing supply, improve affordability and modernize rules that haven't been comprehensively rewritten in decades.

Those are legitimate goals.

But a proposal this consequential demands a process Richmonders trust.

Opposition has grown enough that citizens are circulating petitions seeking a referendum on the zoning overhaul.

That doesn't prove Code Refresh is bad policy.

It proves something else:

A meaningful group of Richmonders doesn't believe City Council approval alone provides enough public consent for a change this sweeping.

Legal and procedural questions matter too. The City Attorney's role is to advise Richmond's elected and administrative leadership on what the law permits and requires. Where that legal advice conflicts with an administration's preferred timetable, it should be treated as a guardrail, not an inconvenience.

We've already seen tension over timelines and legal interpretation during the administration's handling of the medical 911 transfer.

Code Refresh is even more consequential.

If residents believe the process is moving too quickly, petitions are circulating to force a vote, and legitimate legal or procedural questions remain, the answer shouldn't simply be to race toward the finish line.

Slow down. Answer the questions. Make the case.

Richmond will live with these zoning rules long after Danny Avula leaves City Hall.

Getting them right matters more than getting them done quickly.

Avula Wants Another Term. Start the Scorecard Now.

This isn't merely an academic debate.

Avula has already publicly indicated that he intends to seek reelection in 2028.

That makes the question of his performance even more important.

A second term shouldn't be granted because the first wasn't long enough to finish the job.

It should be earned because the first demonstrated that the job is getting done.

Before 2028, Richmond should keep a scorecard.

Is City Hall functioning better?

Are utility bills reliable?

Is downtown improving?

Is the tax base growing?

Is the Diamond District delivering on Avula's “pretty good bet”?

Was the right decision made about the Coliseum after genuinely testing alternatives?

Did Code Refresh produce better housing policy through a process residents trusted?

And when citizens demanded a greater voice, did their mayor listen?

So, Is Danny Avula the Right Mayor?

Avula unquestionably inherited serious problems.

The water system didn't deteriorate overnight. The Diamond District predates him. The Coliseum was already closed. Richmond's school buildings weren't neglected during a single administration.

But every mayor inherits somebody else's government.

Eventually, it becomes theirs.

Avula's strengths are apparent. He communicates well, emphasizes empathy and speaks comfortably about housing, education and inequality.

But Richmond's problems require something else too:

Execution.

Can he get the Diamond District under control?

Can he restore confidence in basic city services?

Can he significantly expand Richmond's tax base?

Can he revive downtown?

Can he manage public assets intelligently?

Can he pursue major policy changes while genuinely listening to citizens who disagree?

And can he demonstrate that asking taxpayers for more money is the last option rather than the first?

Danny Avula inherited a difficult city government.

But Richmond didn't elect him merely to explain what was broken.

Richmond elected him to fix it.

The inheritance has been documented.

The explanations have been heard.

The initiatives have been announced.

Now Richmond needs results.

And because Avula already wants another term, the question voters should begin asking isn't whether four years is enough time.

It's much simpler:

What has actually gotten better?

Don't tell Richmond why you need eight years.

Show Richmond what you accomplished with the first four.

Then let the voters decide whether Danny Avula is the right mayor for four more.

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.

Before You Raise Our Taxes, Prove the Coliseum Is Worth More Dead Than Alive

 

Photo courtesy of The Richmond Times Dispatch

Richmond faces $680,000,000.00 in school maintenance needs and wants another penny in sales tax. Before City Hall reaches deeper into our pockets, put the Coliseum on the market and prove demolition is the best deal.

Richmond says it needs money.

Then stop destroying options for making money.

Richmond Public Schools has identified approximately $680 million in basic maintenance needs through 2044, excluding construction of new schools.

Mayor Danny Avula is supporting a referendum that could authorize an additional 1% local sales tax for school construction and major renovation and has yet to announce any other funding initiative. 

His administration estimates the full penny could generate roughly $47 million annually.

So taxpayers are being told Richmond needs another revenue stream.

Fine.

Then before City Hall demolishes one of downtown's largest publicly controlled assets, answer one question:

Is the Coliseum worth more to Richmond standing or demolished?

Here's the problem.

Richmond has never answered that question through a standalone competitive RFP for the Coliseum itself.

Read that again: 

Richmond has never answered that question through a standalone competitive RFP for the Coliseum itself.

That should stop this demolition train in its tracks.

Where Is the Standalone Coliseum RFP?

Richmond has certainly issued larger redevelopment solicitations involving the Coliseum.

But that's not the same thing.

The 2017 North of Broad/Downtown RFP wasn't a standalone Coliseum solicitation. It contemplated a massive redevelopment area involving an arena, housing, infrastructure, a convention-center hotel, the Blues Armory, transit and other objectives.

In fact, City Council later acknowledged concerns about that process and called for a new redevelopment RFP that could allow development of individual parcels and could either involve or not involve demolition, replacement or rehabilitation of the Coliseum. That never happened.

Then came City Center.

Again, Richmond did not put the Coliseum itself on the market and ask:

Who wants this building, what would you invest, what would you do with it and how much money could it generate for Richmond?

Instead, the 2023 City Center Request for Offers covered approximately 9.5 acres and contained a blunt assumption:

“Demolish the Richmond Coliseum.”

That's not testing the Coliseum's value.

That's deciding its fate before the competition begins.

And now Richmond is moving toward demolition.

$15 Million Is Not a Business Case

Virginia has appropriated $15 million to support Coliseum demolition.

That doesn't mean demolition costs $15 million.

An appropriation is funding, not a competitively established demolition price.

More importantly, having money available to demolish something doesn't establish that demolishing it is economically intelligent.

Before the Coliseum comes down, taxpayers should know exactly what demolition, environmental remediation and site preparation will cost.

But there is another number Richmond should know:

What is the Coliseum worth standing?

After all these years, why hasn't Richmond simply asked the market?

Issue the RFP

Stop debating renovation versus demolition in the abstract.

Issue a standalone RFP for the Coliseum.

Give arena operators, developers, entertainment companies and investors 120 days.

And don't rig the answer.  

To make things easier, here's a draft RFP:

DRAFT RFP: RICHMOND COLISEUM HIGHEST AND BEST USE

Objective: Determine the highest and best economic use of the Richmond Coliseum and immediately associated property.

No Predetermined Outcome: Richmond expresses no preference for renovation or demolition.

Proposals may include renovation, private arena operation, public-private partnership, mixed-use development incorporating the Coliseum, adaptive reuse, demolition and redevelopment, or another financially viable alternative.

Every Proposal Must Answer:

What does it cost?

Provide total project costs.

How much private money are you bringing?

Identify private investment and financing.

How much do you want from taxpayers?

Identify every subsidy, incentive, guarantee or public contribution.

How much does Richmond make?

Project annual admissions, meals, sales, lodging, parking and other City revenues.

What economic activity does it create?

Estimate events, attendance, visitors, hotel nights, jobs and surrounding investment.

Who carries the risk?

Identify responsibility for operating losses, financing and construction overruns.

Then score every proposal publicly:

30% – Long-term financial return to Richmond
25% – Private investment
20% – Recurring City revenue
15% – Taxpayer risk
10% – Downtown economic impact

Publish the proposals.

Publish the assumptions.

Publish the subsidies.

Publish the scores.

Then let the numbers decide whether the Coliseum lives or dies.

What Is Richmond Afraid of Finding Out?

Maybe nobody wants it.

Then we know.

Maybe renovation is financially ridiculous.

Show us.

Maybe an operator demands a massive subsidy.

Reject it.

Maybe private investors are willing to put substantial money into the building.

Let's see the offer.

Maybe demolition and redevelopment produce dramatically more revenue.

Then demolish it.

A standalone RFP doesn't guarantee the Coliseum survives.

It determines whether it deserves to survive.

That is the analysis Richmond should conduct before demolition, not afterward. And, it costs taxpayers nothing to issue such an RFP.

The $680 Million Question

This is where the school crisis makes the failure to test the Coliseum even harder to defend.

Richmond needs hundreds of millions for schools.

City Hall's proposed solution includes another penny in sales tax.

Maybe Richmond needs that penny.

But taxation cannot become a substitute for economic development.

There is a difference between taking another penny from existing economic activity and creating more economic activity to tax.

A productive entertainment venue could potentially generate ticket spending, meals, hotel stays, parking, visitors, jobs and surrounding private investment.

Would a renovated Coliseum solve a $680 million problem?

Of course not.

But could it generate meaningful recurring revenue?

Richmond doesn't know because it has never subjected the Coliseum itself to the competitive test, i.e. a competitive RFP.

That's the scandalously simple part of this story.

Demolition Is the One Option You Cannot Undo

A renovation proposal can be rejected.

A P3 can be rejected.

An arena operator can be rejected.

A development proposal can be rejected.

Demolition cannot be rejected after the building is gone.

That's why demolition should come last.

Richmond has spent years considering enormous redevelopment schemes around the Coliseum.

It has considered replacing it.

It has considered demolishing it.

It has packaged it with surrounding property.

But where was the simple solicitation asking the private market:

What can you do with the Richmond Coliseum itself?

Before City Hall asks taxpayers for another penny, taxpayers deserve that answer.

Put It on the Market

This isn't about nostalgia.

It's about money.

Virginia's $15 million makes demolition easier to finance. But, we will have to pay more to finish the job.

It doesn't make demolition smarter.

Richmond faces approximately $680 million in school maintenance needs while asking voters for authority to impose another penny in sales tax.

Yet Richmond has never conducted the most basic competitive exercise:

Put the Coliseum itself on the market.

So do it.

Issue the standalone RFP.

Give the market 120 days.

Invite proposals that preserve it.

Invite proposals that demolish it.

Put them side by side.

Show us the private investment.

Show us the subsidies.

Show us the recurring revenue.

Show us the math.

Then decide.

Because the question isn't whether somebody loves the Coliseum.

The question is whether Richmond taxpayers are better off with it or without it.

Before Richmond puts the Coliseum under the wrecking ball, put the Coliseum itself on the market.

And Before City Hall asks us for another penny, prove it isn’t destroying a revenue-producing opportunity first.

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.

UNSIGNED DEALS. MISSED DEADLINES. LAWSUITS. WELCOME TO THE DIAMOND DISTRICT.

                                                                                  Photo courtesy of WRIC

The VCU agreement remains unsigned. The deadline was extended. Now one of Richmond’s supposed “partners” is suing the City. This isn’t normal friction. It’s a management failure.

Richmond spent years selling the Diamond District as a carefully constructed public-private partnership.

Now one of those partners has sued Richmond.

The owners of the Richmond Flying Squirrels filed a new lawsuit against the City of Richmond and the Diamond District developer, alleging breaches connected to delays in the redevelopment. 

Those allegations will have to be tested in court, but the lawsuit itself represents a stunning escalation in a project already showing serious cracks. (Richmond.com)

Because the lawsuit isn't happening in isolation.

The VCU deal still isn't finished.

VCU and the Flying Squirrels still haven't completed the separate agreement necessary for VCU baseball to use CarMax Park as envisioned.

September 1 was the outside date written into VCU's lease.

September 1 came.

No deal.

Instead, the Richmond Economic Development Authority amended the lease and pushed that date to December 31, specifically "to allow more time for the execution of the use agreement." (Virginia Business)

So let's stop pretending everything is fine.

Richmond now has an unsigned VCU agreement, a missed deadline, an extended deadline, separate litigation involving Squirrels owner Lou DiBella and the Diamond District developer, and now a new lawsuit against the City itself.

At what point does City Hall admit this isn't normal negotiating friction?

RICHMOND CELEBRATED BEFORE THE DEAL WAS DONE

This may be the most troubling part.

In October 2025, Richmond, VCU and Flying Squirrels officials held a ceremony celebrating commitments involving VCU's future use of CarMax Park and Richmond's purchase of the Sports Backers Stadium property.

Officials expected the agreements to be completed by the end of 2025.

They weren't.

The EDA eventually completed its $25 million purchase of VCU's Sports Backers Stadium property.  The EDA paid approximately $3,790,000.00/acre for roughly 6.6 acres.  

Read that again - $3,790,000.00/acre for roughly 6.6 acres.

VCU and the Squirrels still haven't completed their separate use agreement. (Virginia Business)

Richmond got the land it needed.

The larger Diamond District redevelopment moved forward.

CarMax Park was built and opened.

But one of the agreements necessary to make the stadium arrangement work as publicly envisioned remains unfinished.

And the EDA says it isn't even a party to the negotiations between VCU and the Squirrels. (Virginia Business)

That raises the question City Hall should have been answering months ago:

Why did Richmond move forward before all of these interdependent agreements were locked down?

EVERYBODY HAS LEVERAGE

Look at the structure Richmond created.

Richmond needed VCU's land.

The developer needed that land for the larger redevelopment.

VCU needed a baseball home.

The EDA owns CarMax Park.

The Flying Squirrels operate there.

And Richmond taxpayers financed the publicly owned stadium, whose reported cost is at least $130 million. (Virginia Business)

Everybody needs something from everybody else.

That arrangement works when everybody cooperates.

They aren't.

VCU and the Squirrels can't finish their agreement.

DiBella and the developer are already fighting in federal court.

Now the Squirrels' ownership is suing Richmond and the developer over alleged Diamond District delays. (Richmond.com)

This isn't simply a baseball dispute anymore.

It's a governance problem.

THE LAWSUIT CHANGES EVERYTHING

A sophisticated development agreement should be designed for the day when everybody doesn't get along.

That's the test.

Anybody can announce a partnership when executives are smiling for photographs and politicians are cutting ribbons.

The contracts matter when relationships deteriorate.

And Richmond has reached that moment.

The VCU agreement hasn't been completed.

The deadline had to be extended four months.

The Squirrels' owner is already pursuing separate litigation against Thalhimer Realty Partners and principal Jason Guillot. That case is scheduled for a March 2027 jury trial, while the defendants dispute the allegations and have sought dismissal. (Virginia Business)

And now the Squirrels' ownership has taken the extraordinary step of suing the City.

These are Richmond's Diamond District partners.

They're no longer just negotiating.

They're lawyering up.

THIS IS ABOUT MANAGEMENT

Forget whether you like VCU.

Forget whether you like the Squirrels.

Forget Lou DiBella, Thalhimer or anybody's personality.

The real issue is Richmond's management of a massive redevelopment involving public money, public property and a publicly owned stadium.

VCU's responsibility is to protect VCU.

The Squirrels' responsibility is to protect their organization.

The developer's responsibility is to protect its investment.

Richmond's responsibility was to protect Richmond.

That meant anticipating disputes before committing public resources.

It meant making sure the agreements fit together.

It meant understanding what happened if VCU and the Squirrels couldn't agree.

And it meant making sure Richmond wasn't left dependent upon parties it couldn't force to cooperate.

Instead, September 1 arrived without a VCU deal.

Richmond moved the deadline.

Now Richmond has been sued.

ENOUGH RIBBON CUTTINGS. SHOW US THE CONTRACTS.

Richmond taxpayers deserve answers.

Why wasn't the VCU-Squirrels agreement completed before the project moved forward?

Why was the arrangement publicly celebrated before every critical agreement was signed?

What happens if December 31 arrives without a deal?

What exactly do the Squirrels contend Richmond failed to deliver?

Could the lawsuit delay the larger Diamond District redevelopment?

And what financial exposure does Richmond face?

Those aren't anti-development questions.

They're accountability questions.

The Diamond District may ultimately succeed.

But success tomorrow doesn't excuse poor management today.

Richmond celebrated.

Richmond spent.

Richmond acquired the land.

Richmond built the stadium.

The VCU agreement still isn't finished.

And now the Squirrels are suing Richmond.

VCU protected VCU.

The Squirrels protected the Squirrels.

The developer protected the developer.

Who protected the taxpayers?

Because after today's lawsuit, the question hanging over the Diamond District is no longer simply whether the project will work.

IT'S WHO THE HELL WAS IN CHARGE IN THE FIRST PLACE?

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.

 

No RFP. No Competition. No Proof. So Why Are Avula, Donald and Newbille Ready to Let the Coliseum Die?

 

Richmond is preparing to competitively bid the destruction of the Coliseum before publicly testing whether someone will pay to save, reuse or redevelop it. That isn't a minor procedural issue. It is the central failure of City Hall's Coliseum strategy.

Mayor Danny Avula says demolishing the Richmond Coliseum will “make way for economic development.”

Chief Administrative Officer Odie Donald II says $15 million in state demolition funding “pretty much ensure[s] that it’ll come down.”

Donald is already talking about a roughly 350-room convention hotel as the “sweet spot.”

And City Council President Cynthia Newbille?

Where is the public challenge?

Where is the demand for a Coliseum-specific RFP?

Where is the insistence that Avula and Donald prove demolition is the best deal for Richmond before destroying an asset Richmond can never recover?

Richmond's leaders increasingly talk as though the Coliseum debate has been settled.

It hasn't been settled. It has been skipped. Read that again - it has been skipped.

Avula Has an Answer. Where Is His Evidence?

Avula isn't publicly discussing demolition as one possibility among several.

He's talking about it as the plan.

After the Greater Richmond Convention Center Authority authorized preparation of demolition documents, Avula said:

“GRCCA’s taken the next step in getting potential contractors to demolish the Coliseum.”

When Virginia provided $15 million toward demolition, Avula thanked lawmakers for funding:

“the demolition of the Coliseum to make way for economic development.”

There is an assumption buried inside those words:

Demolition equals economic development.

It doesn't.

Demolition produces an empty site.

What replaces the Coliseum, how much private investment it attracts, how much taxpayers contribute and how much economic activity it generates determine whether Richmond has achieved economic development.

Where is the comparison between demolition and renovation?

Where is the comparison between a hotel and an entertainment venue?

Where is the current market test for adaptive reuse?

Where is the solicitation asking whether somebody would purchase or ground-lease the property?

Maybe Avula has the right answer.

But an irreversible decision deserves more than the mayor's confidence. It deserves evidence.

Donald's $15 Million Problem

Donald has been even more revealing.

Discussing the state's $15 million demolition appropriation, Donald said the money:

“pretty much ensure[s] that it’ll come down.”

That should bother taxpayers.

Not because demolition is necessarily wrong.

Because money becoming available for demolition should not determine whether demolition is the right decision.

Analysis should determine the decision.

Money should finance it.

Suppose a private developer offered Richmond millions for the property and proposed renovating the Coliseum.

Would Richmond demolish it anyway because Virginia provided demolition money?

Suppose a developer offered to buy the property and assume demolition costs.

Would taxpayers still need to spend $15 million?

Suppose an entertainment company offered a credible adaptive-reuse proposal.

Would Richmond reject it because City Hall had already settled on a hotel?

Those are exactly the questions an open solicitation could answer.

Donald Already Has His “Sweet Spot”

Donald isn't merely discussing demolition.

He's already talking about what should replace the Coliseum.

A roughly 350-room convention hotel, Donald has said, would be the “sweet spot.”

Think about the sequence.

Richmond has not publicly demonstrated through a fresh Coliseum-only competition that a hotel is the property's highest-value use.

Yet the CAO is already discussing the preferred number of rooms.

That isn't starting with:

What is the best use of this property?

It's starting much closer to:

How do we execute the use City Hall already prefers?

Those are very different questions.

Donald Says There's “A Ton of Interest”

And here's where Donald makes the argument for an RFP himself.

He says:

“I’m expecting a ton of interest.”

Excellent.

Then put the Coliseum property out to bid.

If there's a “ton of interest,” exploit it.

Invite hotel developers.

Invite arena operators.

Invite entertainment companies.

Invite mixed-use developers.

Invite adaptive-reuse specialists.

Allow purchase proposals.

Allow ground leases.

Allow renovation.

Allow partial demolition.

Allow complete demolition.

Then require everyone to answer the same questions:

How much private investment?

How much taxpayer subsidy?

How many jobs?

How much tax revenue?

How many visitors?

How long until construction?

What does Richmond risk?

And what does Richmond get?

Donald says the market is interested.

Then let the market speak before the wrecking ball does.

Make Donald's Hotel Earn the Site

Maybe Donald is right.

A headquarters hotel could strengthen the Greater Richmond Convention Center and generate lodging, meals and tourism-related taxes.

Fine.

Make it compete.

Compare the hotel with an entertainment venue.

Compare visitors.

Hotel nights.

Restaurant spending.

Tax revenue.

Permanent jobs.

Private investment.

Public subsidy.

Construction costs.

And long-term economic impact.

Maybe the hotel wins easily.

Then build it.

But calling 350 rooms the “sweet spot” isn't economic analysis.

Put the plan against competing ideas and prove it.

President Newbille: Where Are You?

Avula is mayor.

Donald is CAO.

But Richmond also has a legislative branch that's supposed to provide oversight.

It's president is Cynthia Newbille.

And on one of the most consequential and irreversible downtown-development decisions Richmond has faced in years, Newbille should be far more publicly demanding.

She doesn't have to support saving the Coliseum.

She doesn't have to oppose demolition.

But she should demand that Avula and Donald prove their case.

President Newbille: Where is the RFP?

Where is the demand for a fresh Coliseum-specific market test?

Where is the demand for comparative economic projections?

Where is the public questioning of Donald's hotel strategy?

Where is the insistence that Richmond determine what the private market might pay before taxpayers help destroy the asset?

Newbille holds the Council president's gavel.

Use it.

Silence Is Consequential When You Hold the Gavel

This isn't about whether Newbille likes the Coliseum.

It's about oversight.

Avula has indicated a demolition solicitation could move forward pending necessary approvals from City Council.

That means Council isn't powerless.

And Newbille isn't a spectator.

She should put Avula and Donald on the record.

Ask them:

Has Richmond sought current proposals specifically for the Coliseum property without predetermining demolition?

Which arena operators have been contacted?

What would renovation cost today?

Has adaptive reuse been seriously tested?

Could a private developer assume demolition costs?

What analysis proves a convention hotel produces a greater return than competing uses?

How much public assistance could the hotel require?

And the simplest question of all:

If Donald expects “a ton of interest,” why aren't we asking interested developers what they would do with the Coliseum before we destroy it?

Those shouldn't be questions only citizens are asking.

They should be coming from the Council president.

Council Is Supposed to Be a Check, Not a Cheerleader

Richmond City Council isn't supposed to be Avula's supporting cast.

Council exists to scrutinize the administration.

If Avula says demolition means economic development, demand the numbers.

If Donald says 350 rooms are the “sweet spot,” demand the analysis.

If Donald expects massive developer interest, demand an open competition.

If the administration says renovation isn't viable, ask:

Who did you ask?

And if City Council allows demolition to proceed without demanding those answers, Council owns the outcome too.

Once the Coliseum is demolished, oversight becomes little more than an autopsy.

Bagby Brought the Money. He Didn't Prove the Case.

State Sen. Lamont Bagby helped secure the $15 million demolition appropriation.

He has said:

“The Coliseum served us well.”

And:

“Now, it’s time to turn the page and that space needs to be developed.”

Maybe.

But “turn the page” isn't an economic-impact analysis.

Bagby represents constituents in both Richmond and Henrico.

There is nothing improper about that. It is simply relevant political geography.

Richmond and Henrico also compete economically.

For visitors.

Hotels.

Restaurants.

Entertainment spending.

Businesses.

Development.

And tax revenue.

Bagby has responsibilities across his district.

Avula, Donald and Richmond City Council have a specific obligation here:

Protect Richmond's economic interests.

Before eliminating a Richmond entertainment asset, show Richmond what it gains.

What events has Richmond lost since the Coliseum closed?

Where did they go?

Where did those visitors spend their money?

What could a renovated venue recapture?

How does that compare with the proposed hotel?

Maybe the numbers favor demolition overwhelmingly.

Then show the numbers.

Bagby brought Richmond $15 million.

That's an accomplishment.

But obtaining demolition money proves Richmond can afford demolition.

It doesn't prove Richmond should demolish the Coliseum.

The Coliseum Didn't Create This Mess

Avula has said:

“I’ve lived here for 26 years, and this part of the city has never been activated.”

That's a curious indictment.

The Coliseum didn't close itself.

It didn't leave itself vacant for years.

It didn't devise Navy Hill.

It didn't fail to execute City Center.

Government did.

Maybe the Coliseum has reached the end of its economically useful life.

But Richmond shouldn't use years of governmental paralysis as evidence that the building itself caused the paralysis.

Demolishing the physical evidence of failed redevelopment isn't the same thing as successfully redeveloping downtown.

An empty Coliseum doesn't activate downtown.

Neither does an empty lot.

This Isn't About Nostalgia

Forget the concerts.

Forget the basketball games.

Forget the graduations.

Treat the Coliseum purely as an asset sitting on valuable downtown land.

The case for an open market test becomes stronger.

Before destroying an improvement, a competent property owner asks whether it has residual value.

Before spending public money on demolition, a competent government asks whether private money could accomplish the same objective.

Before selecting a future use, competent leadership compares alternatives.

That's not nostalgia.

That's asset management.

Richmond Is About to Bid the Wrong Question

Here is the absurdity at the center of the whole debate:

Richmond is preparing to competitively determine who should destroy the Coliseum before publicly demonstrating that it competitively determined whether destruction is the best option.

Apparently competition matters when choosing the demolition contractor.

Why doesn't it matter just as much when deciding the future of the property?

Before Richmond asks:

Who can tear this down?

It should ask:

Who can give Richmond the best deal?

That's the RFP Richmond needs.

Put Avula and Donald's Plan on Trial

Issue a fresh Coliseum-specific solicitation before demolition.

Give qualified developers 90 or 120 days.

Allow:

Renovation.

Adaptive reuse.

Arena operation.

Hotel development.

Mixed-use development.

Partial demolition.

Complete demolition.

Purchase.

Ground lease.

Require proof of financing.

Require construction estimates.

Require requested public subsidies.

Require projected tax revenues and jobs.

Require operating plans and timelines.

Then compare the proposals publicly.

If Donald's hotel wins, build it.

If demolition wins, demolish the Coliseum.

If nobody wants to renovate it, say so.

If renovation is financially absurd, prove it.

But if someone is prepared to invest serious private money in preserving or repurposing the Coliseum?

Richmond needs to know before demolition.

What Does City Hall Have to Lose?

If Avula is right, an RFP helps him.

If Donald is right, an RFP helps him.

If their hotel strategy is clearly superior, competition will demonstrate it.

If the Coliseum has no economically viable future, competition will demonstrate that too.

So what does City Hall have to lose?

Perhaps the market produces a better idea.

Perhaps somebody offers Richmond money rather than asking Richmond to spend it.

Perhaps an arena operator sees value City Hall doesn't.

Perhaps a developer proposes an adaptive reuse nobody considered.

And perhaps demolition still wins.

Good.

Then Richmond can demolish the Coliseum knowing it actually tested the alternatives.

That's called due diligence.

Newbille Has a Decision to Make

This is no longer only about what Avula and Donald want.

It's about whether City Council will independently challenge what they want.

Newbille can use the Council presidency to demand an open market test before demolition.

Or she can allow the administration's strategy to continue without publicly demanding one.

But once the Coliseum is rubble, the opportunity disappears with it.

No renovation proposal.

No arena operator.

No adaptive reuse.

No second chance.

Newbille shouldn't wait until after demolition to ask whether Richmond could have done better.

Ask now.

No RFP. No Competition. No Proof.

Avula says demolition will make way for economic development.

Donald says $15 million “pretty much ensures” the Coliseum will come down.

Donald already has his 350-room “sweet spot.”

Bagby says it's time to turn the page.

And Newbille has yet to publicly emerge as the force demanding that Richmond put the Coliseum itself through one final, open market test before destroying it.

That's not enough.

Avula and Donald want the Coliseum gone?

Prove that's the best deal.

Donald wants a hotel?

Make it compete.

Bagby says turn the page?

Show Richmond the numbers on the next chapter.

And President Newbille?

Use the gavel.

Demand the RFP.

Demand the alternatives.

Demand the numbers.

Demand the evidence.

Because Richmond can always demolish the Coliseum after testing the market.

It cannot discover whether someone would have saved, purchased or repurposed it after the building has been reduced to rubble.

RFP first. Wrecking ball last.

Anything else isn't bold economic development.

It's City Hall asking Richmond to accept the verdict before seeing the evidence.

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.