Back in 2007, a fair number of people, your correspondent among them, thought the Durham City Council was digging itself into yet another financial hole with the Durham Performing Arts Center. Financing was not going well, despite $33 million in certificates of participation and other funding ponied up by the council.

Because COPs neatly sidestep a referendum, the City Council knew it was putting itself on a thin limb. Nobody knew if Durham and the western Triangle area would support Broadway-class productions.

Now we know. DPAC ranked second nationally among theaters of its size in the fiscal year ended June 30. It sold out 58 of 179 shows.

So, bully for all the people who gave life to DPAC. You have a big, brassy hit on your hands.

It couldn't have happened to a more deserving burg.

For years, Raleigh's Memorial Auditorium (now the Progress Energy Center for the Performing Arts) was the magnet for touring Broadway shows. It's a fine venue, but if you want the best in sight and sound, the newcomer on the block lives in Durham.

You know the place, Raleigh. You dismissed it as a gritty tobacco town, the Triangle's bare-knuckle stepchild and worse.

That perception began to change with Capitol Broadcasting's rehab of the American Tobacco Campus, the city's decision to build a new stadium for the Durham Bulls and other redevelopment projects south of the N.C. Railroad tracks.

Then came DPAC and the Detroit-based Nederlander Organization, which provides professional management. The city wisely negotiated a contract that captures 40 percent of net profits, which go into funds to pay debt service on the COPS, capital improvements and maintenance. The more DPAC earns, the more the city gets, and last year the city got $1.2 million.

Of course, not everything is perfect. Purists complained from the beginning that DPAC would be overshadowed by the hulking Durham County Jail across the street. There is some marrow in that thin bone.

But look at it another way. Except for its tiny windows, the county jail dressed in its marbled finery might be mistaken for an upscale hotel.

So why not play to the slammer's strengths instead of its weaknesses?

Were he alive today (maybe he is), the King, the ayatollah of rock 'n' rolla, would surely grace DPAC with his caped presence. Let us turn to Elvis for the answer.

Rename the jail Heartbreak Hotel.

Voila!