As places in America lose their individuality and meaning, names too mutate into meaninglessness. The American corporate mind has a moronic genius for this kind of thing.
– James Howard Kunstler, 1993
In the beginning, there was Terminus. Five years later, there was Marthasville. Everybody except the governor and his daughter, Martha, hated that name. So, two years later J. Edgar Thomson, chief engineer of the Georgia Railroad gave our city a new name: Atlanta.
Apparently the feminine form of “Atlantic,” our city’s Name has since had an attractive mystique to it. When you think about it, the Name, especially when spoken in a native Atlantan tongue, carries the sound of optimism within it. Go ahead, say it out loud like you’re explaining your birthplace to a yankee. Who in their right mind would utter “aT-lan-Ta” in such a blasphemous tone?
Juan Antonio Samaranch.
That probably explains what really happened when Samaranch announced who would be hosting the 1996 Olympic Games. You remember that moment when the entire Atlanta delegation stood up. All they could do was look around the room and ask, “Who?”
It’s “a’-Lan-ah,” or in its two-syllable form: “Lan-ah.” You say the “a’” like you’re not really sure where you’re from, probably because you grew up in the suburbs. You say the “Lan” like you’re talking about a computer network. We’re a city always on the move, except when there’s traffic. You say “ah” like you’ve just taken a sip from a refreshing bottle of Coke on a steamy summer afternoon, but without making a big deal over such a little syllable. After all, with all that sugar and caffeine, Coke can’t really refresh you — it only creates that perception.
The Name is among the first corporate gifts bestowed to Atlanta, and it’s no doubt fitting for the city that inspired the regime theory of urban governance.
Embedded in our name, the strongest syllable, Lan, gives us our soul and sustenance. Driven by an insatiable appetite for pavement, our state pioneered the Department of Transportation as the fourth branch of government. With little fanfare or accountability measures, the State Constitution bypasses the legislature and appropriates money for building a system of roads and bridges. When the network is jammed, all we can say is, “so much for transportation.”
More to the point of our dominant syllable, Lan also gives us one of the world’s busiest airports. We are part of a wider, global network. In fact, we are a hub in that network. With a perception of gracious accommodation, we’ve built for ourselves a place where other people flock for jobs and mobility.
In the early ’80s, Atlanta was the “City Without Limits.” The branding campaign of those days reflected our geography. Landlocked with only political borders to split us apart, we used nearly unlimited cash funds to pave our way without regard to borders. The optimism following the 1970s era oil crisis led us to believe we would never face such a nightmare again. It’s all so 20th century.
Today, Atlanta is the place where “Every Day is an Opening Day.” With our limits defined by our own boredom from driving, there is a new spirit of optimism. There must be something better we can create for ourselves. And now, there’s plenty of room to do that. Every day, new land developments will open. It won’t happen because there is so much space to fill out in the nether-regions of our metro. It will happen because there is so much space to fill right here in the center. It’s all so 21st century.
For all times, Atlanta is a place defined by its own Name, history and geography. The Name retains its attractive mystique, no matter how the place is shaped. For the future, the network must be made more efficient. Lan is in our heart. Lan is in our Name.
Atlanta: The World Lands Here