The storied city of Danville, Virginia—among its historical mileposts, it was briefly the last capital of the Confederacy—has had a bumpy ride the last couple of decades. Once a railroad hub fed by robust textile and tobacco industries, it started veering toward decay when all three of those economic pillars crumbled. A brief renaissance based on revitalizing the tourist trade foundered on the shoals of the 2008 recession, but then regained its momentum, and especially when Caesars Entertainment announced last year that it would be coming to town!
Yup. Casino gambling—coming to a town known also as “the city of churches” because of its numerous monuments to piety.
Nor will this be some minor-league operation. Caesars said it would be sinking more than half-a-billion dollars into building a resort with a 500-room hotel, a 2,500 person “entertainment venue” and 40,000 square feet of meeting and convention space, not to mention at least 1,300 slots, 85 live game tables, 24 electronic game tables, a poker room and sportsbook. Can’t wait until the grand opening late next year? No worries: Caesars last month pitched a 40,000-square-foot white tent right next to the construction site as a temporary casino, including 740 slots, 25 live table games, yada yada—not exactly to your Las Vegas standards, but just about the biggest thing to happen locally since the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee set up shop in town in 1963.
The city’s leaders are understandably giddy at the thought that their town has a shot at reclaiming some of its former vitality—but as with people, towns should be careful what they wish for. A development as big as this is the social equivalent of a black hole, warping the space around it and sucking in other objects that might otherwise have passed by harmlessly. Danville may get the economic boost it’s seeking (although there’s no guarantee of that: see Atlantic City), but the casino already has attracted less savory camp followers who may provide more tarnish than glitter.
Case in point: J. Cubas Holdings of Coral Gables, Florida, which is seeking city approval for a 333-site luxury RV park on 46 acres zoned for residential use. As detailed by developer Joe Cubas, the so-called “Palace Resort” will be Roman-themed to complement the casino and will include pools, spas, a restaurant and bar, a gym and tennis and pickleball courts. The clientele will be high-end, Cubas has said, people “who know they’re going to spend $500, $1,000, even $5,000 gambling in a weekend,” and to help them spend that money the resort also will provide a shuttle service.
But the neighbors, perhaps predictably, are not happy. Cubas’ 46-acre parcel can be accessed only by a narrow two-lane road, Jenny Lane, which they contend is ill-suited to handle an additional 650 vehicles or more—the Palace Resort sites include both an RV pad and an additional parking pad—coming and going, shuttle be damned. The increased traffic, noise, litter and impact on local wildlife associated with such a development will destroy the residential nature of the neighborhood, they told planning commissioners in a May public hearing. “We’re not opposed to a campground, we’re just opposed to one in our neighborhood,” a Jenny Lane resident told the commission. “This needs to be relocated outside of a neighborhood.”
That doesn’t sound unreasonable—except that Danville’s zoning code, presumably dating back to a time when “campground” meant a few dozen water-and-electric sites for tents and travel trailers, actually requires campgrounds and RV parks to be located in residentially-zoned areas. Indeed, Cubas has said that’s exactly why he purchased this particular site—and the planning commission, whose approval of his application appears to be mostly a formality, is on board, voting 5-1 on May 8 to submit it to the city council for final ratification. The commission’s only stipulation is that a traffic impact analysis be conducted to address local residents’ concerns.
All of that, and the city council’s anticipated approval June 20, might be chalked up to just another example of the interests of an unfortunate few being sacrificed for the greater economic good—if not for all the red flags the city is ignoring.
There is, for example, Joe Cubas’ almost complete lack of relevant experience; although he claims to have built four RV parks, none were operating last fall when he sought approval for a 454-site RV park in adjacent Pittsylvania County, his first choice before coming to Danville. As reported by the Star-Tribune, when questioned by a county supervisor about his thin résumé, an offended Cubas replied that he’d been a developer his whole life and “running an RV park is much easier than building a residential development.”
That’s a clueless and unresponsive answer, but Cubas in any case has no desire to actually run an RV park. He just wants to sell them, even before they’re built, as evidenced by his “for sale” listing Feb. 22 of a 470-site RV resort on Albemarle Sound in North Carolina that “will [emphasis added] consist of 470 sites with first class amenities.” No such RV park yet exists, however, and the listing was withdrawn May 20, presumably so Cubas could turn all his attention to Danville. Even there, however, he’s been hop-scotching: last summer he was hawking a “potential development opportunity” on the west side of Danville, a 106-acre site just inside city limits that he touted as, yes, the Palace Luxury RV Resort; that listing was up less than a month, coming down Aug. 20 as Cubas turned his attention to the ultimately denied Pittsylvania County application.
Then there’s his unbridled enthusiasm for using his luxury RV park as a springboard for much bigger promotional schemes. Making the hugely questionable assertion that “most RVers also own motorcycles,” Cubas disclosed in his permit application that he’s been in discussions with Thunder Road Harley Davidson and unnamed city officials to have Danville host a bike week in 2025. That could mean really big bucks for Danville, according to the application, which cited the Sturgis, S.D. and Orlando, Fla. annual biker rallies as examples of what is possible; no estimate provided of what proportion of those half-million visitors could be described as “high-end,” or whether Danville—population 42,000—has either the room or the resources to cope with such a tidal wave.
But the biggest red flag, the one that attests to Joe Cubas’ questionable scruples, is his threat to stick it to the city if it denies his permit by . . . building between 92 and 230 single-family homes on his 46 acres. Those new homes obviously will impact city services, his application pointed out, and just one of those impacts would be as much as a $1.5 million annual hit to school budgets to accommodate all those new students. The RV resort, by contrast, “will have no impact on the city’s or county’s social services”—an assertion that ignores police, fire and other tax-funded services—but “will potentially generate in excess of $1.3 million dollars [sic] a year in transient lodging, occupancy and meal tax revenue for the City of Danville.”
That’s a pretty blatant economic threat, especially coming from a Floridian whose avowed interest in southern Virginia is to capitalize on a casino, not to provide housing in an area to which he has no ties. But it’s exactly the sort of thing that gambling fever encourages: a get-rich-quick attitude that isn’t limited to slot machines or card tables. Even a Roman-themed RV luxury park will suffice, especially if it’s easy-in and easy-out. The locals, as usual, can pick up the pieces.
Most recent posts
Renting Dirt 