The tables are set, the guests have RSVP'd and all eyes are on Atlanta's biggest party ever --
the Centennial Olympic Games.
But one question remains: In less than a week when Atlanta plays host to the largest
peacetime gathering ever, will Atlantans welcome the world with open arms in the spirit of true
Southern hospitality, or seethe at the imposition ?
The answer, at least until last month, could be found in the litany of woes residents played
out to the international stage. United in their skepticism, Atlantans made it painfully clear the
Summer Games would be an unnecessary burden for their already congested, crime-ridden,
racially polarized city.
"At first, I think we all thought (the choice of ) Atlanta was a mistake," said Shaka A. Scott,
a 20-year-old Atlanta native, currently studying law at New York University. "I mean, why
would they (the IOC) choose our unsophisticated, let's-cling-to-'Gone-with-the-Wind' city over
Greece? Just consider, they have the Parthenon, we have what -- the world of Coca-Cola?"
But be it because of the 23,100 new jobs created for the Games, or the realization that the
city's ambitious plans are finally taking shape, the skepticism of the residents are gradually
shifting to awe and a new-found pride in Atlanta's achievement. A recent survey found a 76
percent approval for the Games among Atlantans -- a 30-point jump from a similar poll three
years ago.
Undoubtedly, this comes as much-needed good news for the Atlanta Committee for the
Olympic Games (ACOG), which has seen the old Murphy adage hound all its Olympic
preparations. Everything that can go wrong has indeed been going wrong for the organization
since Atlanta was awarded the Games six years ago.
Greece boycotted the biding process, calling Atlanta's coup a "tampering with history," while
the rest of the world derided the choice and dubbed the 1996 Olympics 'the Coca-Cola Games.'
CEO Billy Payne, who successfully staged the bid, returned home to a hero's welcome, only
to launch into a struggle for control with then mayor Maynard Jackson. Jackson was aghast at
learning so much would be built in his city without his input.
Challenges to ACOG's vision also came from mostly underprivileged neighborhoods where
the organization wanted to build most of the Games' venues.
"They were legitimate concerns expressed because there have been times when the business
community pursued their dreams without regard for the people in this community," said
community activist Dr. Larry Crawford, a professor of Sociology at Morehouse College.
"One example is the Fulton County Stadium (which) is built on land cleared for a federal
urban renewal project. It was sold to us as a boon to the neighborhood, but by 1990, they had
forgotten all about us -- the houses were unlivable and the area turned into a parking lot at Braves
Games."
Once construction eventually began at the Olympic sites, the criticism mounted
exponentially -- and with good reason.
First came the news of the uneven settlement of the Olympic Village -- the state-of-the-art
athlete housing complex was sinking by as much as six inches. Then came the accidental death
of a construction worker. Finally, the collapse of a steel truss at the Georgia Tech Aquatic
Center.
The construction date for the Olympic Stadium was pushed back repeatedly while ACOG
and future owners, the Atlanta Braves, bickered over its design. And critics had a field day when
the roof of the Georgia Dome, touted as being strong enough to support the weight of monster
trucks, was poked open by rain.
Meanwhile, ACOG itself was having a bit of an image problem.
The much-maligned Olympic mascot Whatizit had to be drastically redrawn, but the
resulting Izzy still looked like "a sperm in sneakers," as Time magazine called it. Complaints
poured in from ticket holders, upset at losing choice seats to corporate sponsors, and from ticket
seekers, who did not appreciate the long waits and curt service. When a customer was denied
tickets because the employee did not believe New Mexico is in the United States, it made news
worldwide.
Atlantans also complained about ACOG's excessive corporate pandering, and its iron-fist
treatment of the city. In one instance, the organization decided to herd off the city's homeless by
busloads; in another, it tried forcing residents out of their houses to make way for parking lots.
Through all the commotion about its agenda and its plans for transportation and security,
ACOG, making concessions here and there, persevered. And for Atlanta, a city which literally
rose from the ashes to stake its claim as the capital of the South, there is nothing better than a
story of good ol' perseverance.
"Since Sherman torched Atlanta, nothing has caused as much change and development in
Atlanta like the Olympics," said Geoffrey Stanford, a real-estate agent. "That's why we're so
ready to forget the inconveniences of the past year and welcome it."
The shift in attitude showed.
Volunteers signed up by the hundreds, and companies pledged millions of dollars.
Businessman J.D. Fuqua added his own quirky touch to the Games' history, when he forked
over $1.5 million for portable toilets upon learning toilet facilities were woefully inadequate in
the city.
"It may not be much of a legacy, but I'm sure the visitors will be thanking me," Fuqua said.
What will, however, be a legacy of the Centennial Games is the $2 billion in buildings and
sporting facilities it will leave behind. Billions more in investment is sure to follow the high
profile the city will enjoy during the event.
Leon Eplan, the city's planning commissioner, believes Atlanta will not turn into the
hard-edged soulless place it was before the Olympics.
"The city has achieved a lot already," he said. "Parks have taken a giant step forward, and
we've already begun to convert older downtown office buildings into residences."
Eplan noted the Olympic Village will provide 2,000 college students with housing after the
Games, the Centennial Park will catalyze the revival of the Techwood area, and a
house-by-house rehabilitation will begin in a key area of town that was turning into a slum --
Auburn Avenue, site of the Martin Luther King, Jr. memorial.
If the legacy of the Games lives up to its promise, it will bring the sentiments of Atlanta
residents full circle -- from anger and frustration back to the euphoria that gripped the city six
years ago when the IOC President Juan Antonio Samaranch's "Aaht-lan-tah" pronouncement
began the emotional roller coaster ride.
"I'm well aware of the fact that a few buildings and cleaner streets are not going to make all
the problems facing our city go away," said Patrick Best, managing editor of a local newspaper,
and one of many Atlanta concerned with the after-effects of the Games. "But all this
development and progress has restored my hope -- it was caused because people has a common
goal."
"Maybe if we continue to look at our city as if the world is watching," Best added,"we'll
really have the power to make substantial changes to our surroundings."
