Badlands

"My thought when I walk around is, 'I could be in Colorado or on the coast,'" says Terri Bell, special projects consultant for IMG, the internationally known Cleveland talent agency.

For most of the 20th century, this Painesville Township site played host to Diamond Alkali, a thriving chemical plant. But in the '70s, the owners sensed better opportunities elsewhere and packed up for Texas. Thousands were left without jobs. The plant became a rusting memorial to more pleasant times. For 30 years, it sat mostly empty.

"I've lived in Lake County all my life," says commissioner Ray Sines. "I've seen the place go from a thriving industrial area to a blighted eyesore. There was always a question of what would become of the place."

But in 2005, IMG decided to open a luxury sports training resort here. Beneath the industrial carcass lay acres and acres of lakefront real estate -- the sort of land no longer available in Florida or even Chicago. It was exactly what the company, best known for representing clients like Tiger Woods, was looking for.

For three decades, IMG has operated a professional training facility in Bradenton, Florida, where tennis pros like Monica Seles lived and trained during their high-school years. The agency wanted a site where recreational athletes could get the same training in a sprawling resort with world-class tennis courts and professionally designed golf courses.

Todd Davis, a Beachwood developer, came calling with just such a plan. IMG fell in love. "We thought the concept was just phenomenal," says Bell.

Suddenly, hands were shaking, deals were solidified, buildings were razed, and long-suffering Lake County commissioners were drinking champagne.

Beginning in summer 2009, Lakeview Bluffs will play host to tanned executives from Fort Lauderdale to Fort Wayne. They'll spend their time sailing, swimming, golfing, and receiving personal training from experts with names like Sven and Katerina. At night, they'll be able to see Broadway-caliber actresses perform stage classics, or enjoy a Swedish massage. In the morning, they can order feta and spinach omelets and French-press coffee from the Boutique Resort Hotel's room-service menu. And those who want to retire in style -- but don't like the swampy heat or gossip of Boca -- will find a gated community of luxury condos and town houses.

For a former chemical community that's lost its sense of pride and its main industry, Lakeview Bluffs is just the economic and mental boost it needs. "It's going to bring revitalization to the whole area," Sines predicts.

There's just one problem, best expressed by a former EPA toxicologist: "No one in their right mind should be able to build there."

For decades, commissioners viewed the land in this northern part of Lake County as more industrial park than amusement park. Chemical plants took up much of the space. Diamond Alkali was the largest by far, churning out tons of soda ash (a material used in glass production), as well as cement, chlorine, alkali, and chromium compounds used in paints and dyes.

About 500 acres of this 1,100-acre plot fell in a small, flannel-and-jeans village near Painesville called Fairport Harbor. From the beginning, the village was a company town. The name "Diamond Alkali" was spoken with the same respect afforded bishops. It was the headwaters from which jobs, mortgages, and all else flowed.

And the company was good to its people. It built a recreation center and threw annual Christmas parties, giving away lavish presents to the kids. When someone was injured on the job, it was company policy to provide the family with a ranch home near the plant and a guaranteed lifetime salary.

Fairport Harbor offered an idyllic life of sorts. There were creeks to swim in, ponds to skate on, massive fields to roam. On the weekends, fathers and sons dipped fishing lines in the lake, catching perch for Sunday dinner. "It was just a wonderful place to grow up," says John Ameen of his '50s childhood.

But paradise often comes with a price. In exchange for bucolic settings, residents had to deal with a degree of unpleasantness -- the vinegary stink of sulfuric acid, for instance. "The odor was so bad, you had to hold your breath," remembers Jim Prezioso. "But you could only hold it for so long." And when you were forced to finally breathe, your nose and mouth filled with a heavy, nausea-inducing stench. On particularly bad days, parents barricaded their children indoors, spraying deodorant about living rooms.