To start off, we already knew this was happening The plans have been out there for years, but a recent article from the VCU student paper, The Commonwealth Times, highlighted by Axios yesterday, has brought it back into the conversation this week.
Virginia Commonwealth University plans to make West Grace Street into a “campus main street,” complete with amenities tailored to the needs of its student body. Pocket parks, ground-floor retail and restaurants, and additional student housing and academic spaces are all part of the university’s ambitious vision.
That all sounds lovely for students, but honestly, this sounds terrible for anyone in town that cares about any kind of cultural history. But, progress stops for no one, especially if you don’t have the money to stop it, so here we are left to just deal as the city becomes more bland everyday.
Why does this block matter? Well, for much of the 20th century, that section of West Grace Street near the college was the beating heart of Richmond’s counterculture scene. It served as a haven for progressives, beatniks, hippies, punks, poets, artists, and musicians, with The Village Cafe at its core for years. Plus, it’s where one of our most famous writers, Tom Robbins, got his start. Look him up.
Within these blocks stood landmarks of cultural significance. From the city’s first vegetarian restaurant to the iconic 929 W. Grace—which we dubbed the “epicenter of Richmond’s music scene” back in 2009—and the historic The Biograph Theater from the 1970s, each stood as a testament to the area’s vibrant arts community.
Not to sit here and romanticize West Grace Street with rose-tinted glasses — a lot of bad stuff went down too. But that was a reflection of the city’s complexities. Alongside its bohemian charm existed a darker underbelly, characterized by strip joints, prostitution, homelessness, racial tensions, and murders. Yet, despite its flaws, the street was a microcosm of Richmond’s diverse identity, a place where the city’s contradictions would interact with each other through music, art, etc.
Now, as VCU’s expansion plans move forward to reshape this historic landscape, the question arises: at what cost progress? For the university, these blocks may represent an opportunity for growth and development, but for those who have called Richmond home for generations, they are an irreplaceable part of their collective memory. But what does that matter to an institution as big as VCU? Apparently not a whole lot.
Avail at The Metro on the corner of Broad and Laurel which later became The Factory, Sweetwater, then Empire, a random taco place and now some restaurant that people will forget was ever there.