A local newspaper recently voted the new Bass Pro Shop’s Outdoor World off I-95 north to be one of the ugliest buildings in Richmond. “Hideous,” is actually the word they used to describe the monstrously-glowing, pseudo-timbered ode to fishing and hunting – with a restaurant that features alligator and an appetizer of about an hour-and-a-half wait.
While I will not attempt to defend the architect of this soaring structure, I have to admit, I am attracted to the massive thing like a candlefly to a naked bulb. Is it all of those pickup trucks outside or the fireplace big enough to park an F-150 in? Is it the impressive selection of camo that runs from bathrobes to recliners to thongs? Is it the 42,368 departed animals, frozen in various poses of taxidermy’d splendor reaching into the rafters above a waterfall pouring into a glass fish tank the size of my first apartment (but much cleaner)?
No.
What attracts me to this wet dream of Ted Nugent is the very thing that the aforementioned newspaper hated: the sheer, god awful, awesomely-wicked audacity of it all. I may not share the politics of everyone who shops there, but I can share the smell of venison jerky, denim and lacquered bass boats. It is the mojo I admire, not the lack of classic beauty. Ever see a man collect 50,000 hubcaps in his front yard or decorate a grove of trees with thousands of beer bottles? It is that type of stunning absence of pretension that makes The Bass Pro Shop’s Outdoor World so garish, so perfect, so much freaking fun.
What the hell do people expect in such a store? Taste? Subtly? Fudge? Okay, there is fudge. A lot of it. You want flyfishing lures and fudge? No problem. MoonPies? Got a big selection. You want hip-waders and a turkey baster that will plump three birds and a possum? Bring your Visa. You want Frank Loyd Wright? Keep driving. This place looks exactly like what it is – which is this, from my friend Ray, who brought the “hideous architecture” article to my attention in the first place:
“I don’t go to Monticello for size 20 barb-less dry fly hooks, nor do I search the halls of Saarinen’s Dulles terminal for 12 gauge, size 2 steel shot, high velocity shells,” Said Ray. “Architecture has a purpose and is not meant for all the people all the time. Architecure is like a good dog, a decent truck or a finely-tied hopper pattern – a gentleman knows it when he sees it and does not require any turned-up-nosed yahoo to educate him about it.”
I drove up to the BPSOT Saturday evening. A man was looking at the boats with his wife.
“You think it’s an ugly building?” I asked.
His wife was beginning to nod, “yes.” He turned quickly and snapped, “If they let me, I’d live here.”
His wife looked at the big building silhouetted against the darkening sky.
“I wish you did,” she said.
He looked genuinely hurt.