Marriott comes close
Manassas Battlefield. Prince William County, VA. Site of some of the most iconic clashes of the Civil War. Hallowed Ground. And now Marriott was buying 513 acres nearby in their pursuit of a somewhat-scaled down theme park development. The $35 million park would cover about 80 acres and feature the same sorts of Americana theming and attractions as announced back in January the year before.
It was an uphill climb, again. The challenge was convincing everybody that this would be, you know, a good thing for the community. Fears of outsiders flooding the area were explained away as the park would be geared towards the local population and seasonal in operation, not targeting tourists. (A brief aside about this last point: the definition of a “regional theme park” stipulates that they typically serve population areas within an hour or two’s drive, meaning guests can make it a day trip and return home that same evening. This is different from “destination” parks such as Disney and Universal, where visitors travel long distances and stay multiple days for the experience.)
250 full-time and 1500 seasonal jobs were promised for the region to operate the park about 140 days each year. For better access to the property, the company approached the Federal Highway Administration about building a new interchange off I-66—a tall order, since there were already two exits fairly close by, and the state of Virginia had no money to chip in. A huge debate arose over water and sewer, with Marriott finally hinting they could build their own “zero discharge” sewer system to serve the park.
And guess what? After five months of effort, Marriott was awarded zoning and site plan approval from the Prince William County Board of Supervisors in April 1973. That’s right, Marriott got the green light to proceed with their DC Great America. There would be more hurdles that needed hurdling, but it seemed as though locals could finally look forward to the daily Mardi Gras parades, the Whalers’ Longboat ride, and the “Our American Heritage” multi-media show.
But then the most incredible thing happened. Nine months after receiving the joyous news, everything changed—the county was rescinding their approval due to a “legal error.”
Apparently there was a discrepancy with the exact number of days required for public notice of a proposal hearing. The issue? What exactly is meant by “two weeks notice”? It seemed logical to consider this to mean two consecutive, five weekday periods. A recent Virginia attorney general opinion on a different matter defined it as two full seven-day weeks. On such trivia are great matters in life often determined, and this killed the company’s second attempt in the region. They’d have to start completely over from scratch, and even though the county encouraged them to do so, they said no, thanks, and began searching again.
