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Lowry’s losin’ it

Rich Lowry’s propaganda piece, “Is chastity cool?” [Right Turn, March 16], manages to both distort the few facts that are provided while also completely failing to address findings that run counter to his conservative agenda.

While Lowry admits, “it is difficult to disentangle the causes of the current trend towards less teenage sexual activity,” he proceeds to make the wholly unsubstantiated claim that, “a greater appreciation for abstinence” and the subsequent funding of Bush’s abstinence-based sex “education” programs should get the kudos for the reported decrease in teen sexual activity.

The facts simply do not support this argument. For instance, the average age of first intercourse in the United States is similar to Sweden, Canada, England and the Netherlands. Yet all of those countries—which all unequivocally promote comprehensive sex education programs and access to contraception—have teen pregnancy rates far lower than ours.

Likewise, studies of abstinence programs show that they simply don’t work. After the implementation of an abstinence-only curriculum, the Lubbock, Texas, public school system became No. 1 in that state for both teen pregnancy and sexually transmitted disease (STD) rates. Similarly, a report released recently by the Centers for Disease Control found that virginity pledges (the bread and butter of many abstinence programs) have no impact on the rates of STDs. A related study found that teens who made such pledges were 30 percent less likely to use condoms when eventually engaging in sex.

Lowry closes with this: “We are [the problem], in the way we havetold teens it is O.K. to give away their bodies, and their spirits, so easily.” The only spirit Lowry cares about defending is of the holy variety. Lowry, like Bush, does not care if kids get quality information about sexuality. They only care about promoting a conservative Christian culture in which sex is only permitted between a man and a woman in wedlock—and even that’s dirty if you’re doin’ it outside of the missionary position.

If the Christian Right cared about the well-being of young people they would cease their campaigns of silence and disinformation about methods of contraception (see Nicholas Kristof’s New York Times article, “The Secret War on Condoms”), and instead vigorously promote education about HIV/AIDS, rape and contraception—including abstinence—as well as provide tutoring and job skills. The day I see that happen under these Christian-supremacists is the day I’ll pledge to be a born-again virgin.

Brad Perry

Charlottesville

Correction

In last week’s On the Record, Catherine De Neuf was reported as living in Scottsville. She now lives in Charlottesville.

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News in review

Attention, Giant shoppers
Wal-Mart-fueled benefits dispute comes to local groceries

Checkout lines might not be the only lines Giant Food shoppers spot during visits to the two Charlottesville stores this week. Workers from the region’s Giant and Safeway grocery stores will vote on a new contract on March 30, and signs are pointing to a potential strike or lockout of employees, which could bring picket lines to the stores.

The two supermarket mammoths have wrangled with the United Food and Commercial Workers Local 400 over worker wages and health benefits in recent weeks. A key sticking point has been the amount clerks and meat cutters must kick in for health coverage, according to trade publication Food World.

“The Giant propaganda machine is geared up to try to convince you that you are not entitled to what you have earned. Health care, wages, pensions, premiums and many other issues are being discussed at the bargaining table,” C. James Lowthers, the president of the UFCW Local 400 said in a recent letter to Giant employees. “Giant will try to convince you that you should sacrifice things you have earned while they rake in millions of dollars in profits.”

One reported proposal from the two companies is to require new employees to work three years before they can take New Year’s Day as a holiday.

Employees at the Giant on Pantops kept mum when asked about the looming strike on a recent morning, and a union spokesperson refused to comment on contract discussions. The company negotiator did not return a call. However, both sides were preparing for a strike or lockout, with the union selecting strike captains and Giant advertising online for temporary clerk and cashier positions.

Labor costs for non-union supermarkets in the region, such as Food Lion, Whole Foods, Harris Teeter and the ever-encroaching Wal-Mart, are typically less than those for Giant and Safeway, prompting the two companies to cite the need to cut costs to maintain a competitive edge. The lead negotiator for Giant, Harry Burton, told The Washington Post that the two chains spend twice what non-union stores spend on labor, and three times more on health care.

Giant has long been the largest supermarket chain in the region, with 67 stores in Virginia. In the mid-Atlantic, the company earned $5 billion during a recent 12-month stretch, $2 billion more than Food Lion, its closest competitor, and more than double the grocery-related revenue of the region’s Wal-Marts, according to Food World. But though Securities and Exchange Commission documents show increasing sales for Giant in recent years, non-union grocery stores are closing the gap. —Paul Fain

 

Best laid plans
Funding questions remain after passage of Crozet Master Plan

After 12 meetings and more than two years of work, the Albemarle County Planning Commission on Tuesday, March 23, unanimously approved a comprehensive “master plan” for Crozet that seeks to shepherd the community’s growth by encouraging a focus on downtown, pedestrian options and distinct neighborhoods.

Before the vote, planners sat through a lengthy public hearing in which several Crozet residents bashed the plan. Though unmoved, planners strongly agreed with critics’ call for funding for the planned roads, sidewalks, libraries and schools.

Voicing that oft-heard refrain, longtime resident Paul Grady said the plan “is not going to amount to a hill of beans unless there is going to be infrastructure funding.”

Commissioner William Rieley added a request for the Albemarle Board of Supervisors to prioritize funding for the plan. But as Bill Edgerton of the Commission said, financial support for the plan would “require, probably, an increase in taxation. And that’s not a popular thing in Virginia right now.” (The Board of Supervisors decided, also that day, not to cut the County real estate tax by two cents, as had been discussed in earlier budget planning.)

The master plan is based on growth projections that see the rustic village growing to 12,000 residents from its current population of 3,000. During the hearing, Jack Marshall, the president of Advocates for a Sustainable Albemarle Population, said the pace of growth requires either more funding or significant slowing. But several commissioners and residents said a rush of transplants was coming to Crozet with or without a master plan.

“This is the attempt to bridle some of the growth,” said Marcia Joseph of the Commission.

During the hearing, Crozet native R. Carroll Conley perhaps best expressed the belief that changes to the Crozet way of life were inevitable. Conley owns the J. Bruce Barnes lumber company, which he says is Crozet’s oldest business.

“We know we can’t stop growth. Crozet was the best-kept secret there ever was, I think,” Conley said. Though Conley stoically said he doesn’t oppose Crozet’s development or the master plan, he did have a beef with a proposed road that would bisect part of his lumberyard.

However, planners sought to assuage residents’ fears about road sites by saying the exact locations were not final. “We can’t draw these lines as firm lines at this point,” Edgerton said.

But though commissioners downplayed the finality of some specifics, they also stressed the plan’s overall importance. With other similar plans perhaps looming for the County, Rieley said the Crozet plan’s success “was critical for future planning in Albemarle County.”

On this point, Rieley’s fellow commissioner, Calvin Morris, again brought up money, saying the County should not draw up other master plans, “unless we’re willing to put our money where our mouth is.”—Paul Fain

 

Money talks
Democrats seek funds for yard signs and other “necessary evils”

Two years ago, Rob Schilling defeated Alexandria Searls to become the first Republican in 12 years to capture a City Council seat. Democrats didn’t take defeat well—Searls claimed the party let her down, and Lloyd Snook suggested he wanted to surrender the party chair. It seems the Dems are still smarting.

On March 17, former Mayor and Dem finance chair David Toscano sent out a letter apparently designed to scare the party faithful into opening their checkbooks.

“As we are all aware, our last City Council campaign had mixed success, as one Republican was able to win a seat,” Toscano writes.

“Much of this failure was caused by our own inability to organize an effective campaign from the start. We cannot afford to repeat that experience. Much is at stake.”

Specifically, the letter claims that Democrats “in recent years have pledged up to 40 percent of new revenue to meet the budget request of the school board; our Republican member would abandon that pledge.”

Snook told C-VILLE that the Democrats want to guarantee the school board a percentage of new money, while “Republicans from Washington, D.C. to Richmond to City Council are going to talk about cutting.”

The slam is misleading, counters Schilling. “Does that mean funding will be anywhere from 0 percent to 40 percent? That’s not a policy,” he says.

“Maybe some years the schools need 50 percent of new revenues, maybe some years they need 20 percent,” says Schilling. “Instead of asking for what they think they can get, the school board needs to ask for and justify what they really need.”

Regardless, Toscano’s letter indicates the Democrats plan a more aggressive stance against their Republican challengers this year. In 2002, Searls and her ticketmate Blake Caravati (the incumbent who was ultimately re-elected that year) seemed to spend more time arguing with each other than with Schilling, the lone Republican candidate.

“The single biggest difference [from two years ago] is that we have three candidates this time around who are comfortable with each other, who largely agree with one another and can share the same stage,” says Snook. “Last time, the most interesting battles were between the two Democratic candidates.”

Those intra-party rivalries also cost the Dems money in 2002. Snook estimates that six Democrats spent about $17,000 fighting each other for the party nomination then, while the Caravati-Searls campaign spent a meager $11,000 in the race against Schilling.

This year, former Councilor John Conover is running the Dems’ campaign, and he says the party’s three candidates—David Brown, Kendra Hamilton and incumbent Kevin Lynch—need to raise $30,000 to take on Republicans Ann Reinicke and Kenneth Jackson. (Independent Vance High has also declared his candidacy.) Conover estimates that about a third of the money will be spent on mailings, which he says is the best way to reach people. The rest will pay for radio and television ads and “other things.” Yard signs, says Conover, “are a necessary evil.”

In the past, Conover says, Democrats and Republicans had a friendly agreement not to put out yard signs until after the Dogwood Festival, which this year ends on April 25. No such agreement exists anymore, Conover says. Indeed, some Republican yard signs have already sprouted on City lawns.

“We’re trying to raise funds,” says Republican chair Bob Hodous, although he wouldn’t say how much the party is seeking. “We’re contacting people in ways we believe are appropriate. We’re out working.”

Democrats say they will start putting out yard signs this week, and claim they’ll be worth the wait. In what may foreshadow the tone of this spring’s race, even aesthetics has become a partisan issue.

“We took a little bit more time in terms of design aspects,” says Snook. “The graphic content of the Democratic yard signs and bumper stickers will show there has been a little bit more planning than the Republicans did.”—John Borgmeyer

 

Disc-o inferno
UVA’s women’s ultimate frisbee team is hot

A “huck,” in ultimate frisbee jargon, is a deep throw into enemy territory, much like a “long bomb” in football. But a frisbee can stay aloft much longer, and the dramatic moment between the throw and the catch is stretched out interminably, causing a viewer to hold several breaths instead of just one.

At a Wednesday night scrimmage, Beth Oppenheimer throws a beauty—a slightly arcing half-field huck right into the waiting hands of a teammate in the endzone. Oppenheimer, a law student, is co-captain of the UVA women’s ultimate team, Agent Orange, a little-recognized squad that has grown to 25 players from eight in 1998. For the first time ever the group is ranked the No. 1 women’s team in the country.

For those who don’t understand how frisbee can be a competitive sport, a short primer might help: Two teams put seven players on opposite ends of the field, and one team “pulls” the disc to the other (essentially a kickoff). The other team receives the disc and works it up the field toward the opposite endzone. A player may not walk with the disc—it can only be advanced by throwing it to a teammate. Meanwhile, the players on the other team try to intercept it or knock it down, resulting in a turnover. A team scores a point when one player passes the disc to a teammate in the endzone. Games are usually played to 15, and can last more than two hours.

Charlottesville has recently become a hotbed of ultimate. Besides the men’s and women’s collegiate teams, the City is home to two coed club, or post-college, teams: Monkey Knife Fight, a new squad that won two of its last four tournaments (and of which, in the interest of full disclosure, I admit to being a member), and Blue Ridge Ultimate, which competed in the national championships the past three years and took fourth place at the world championships in 2002. The Charlottesville ultimate organizers also sponsor summer and winter community tournaments for the more than 200 local players.

This is a breakout year for UVA ultimate, with Agent Orange the only undefeated team in the country at 24-0, and the men’s team, Virginia Disorder, ranked sixth in the open (a.k.a. men’s) division. “It’s an exciting time for everyone,” says Oppenheimer. “We have been working hard in our practices and I know we have the potential to do very well at nationals.”

While there is no shortage of talent on either squad, there is a dearth of resources—it’ll cost each team about $450 per player to go to the national championships in Seattle in May, where the top 16 teams in both the open and women’s divisions will battle it out for the title of national champion. With a likely spot at nationals, the UVA women are already holding fundraisers for the trip. For more fundraising information, e-mail efo5c@virginia.edu.

No matter the tournament outcome, Oppenheimer looks forward to the growing future of frisbee in the City. “I think UVA is going to have a strong women’s ultimate program for many years from this foundation we have built,” she says.—Chris Smith

 

Tapped out
The RWSA is running out of options

For at least one more summer, this will be the Rivanna Water and Sewer Authority’s official drought management policy: Pray for rain.

It’s true. Charlottesville and Albemarle are no better equipped to handle a major drought than we were in the summer of 2002, when long showers and car washes were strictly verboten.

Don’t blame water officials, they say. Blame the State and Federal regulators instead, not to mention that nasty ol’ drought for long delays in improving the region’s water supply.

Two years ago, RWSA officials tried to implement a $13 million plan to expand the capacity of the South Fork Rivanna Reservoir in two ways: by building a 4-foot bladder across the dam to raise water levels, and by dredging out the sediment that flows into the reservoir. Sediment has reduced the reservoir’s 1.68 billion-gallon capacity by more than 500 million gallons since it was built in 1966—the last time the area expanded its water supply.

Here’s the snag: At least 11 different Federal and State agencies—including the Army Corps of Engineers, the Federal Emergency Regulatory Commission, the Federal and State departments of Fish and Game and the Department of Natural Resources—have a say in any local plan to alter the water supply. The agencies required the RWSA to include information on how a “drought of record” would affect water supply. Since the 2002 drought eclipsed a drought in 1930, the Authority had to take more time to update their data.

Then, in January, with the new “drought of record” data figured into their studies, the RWSA discovered that a 4-foot bladder on the South Fork Rivanna wouldn’t be enough to meet the region’s projected 2030 demand of 16.5 million gallons a day.

“We had to back up,” says RWSA interm director Lonnie Wood. “We can’t build this thing, then tell people we can’t meet projected demand.”

Dredging sediment out of the Rivanna reservoir was also nixed, Wood says, because the resulting pile would cover 200 acres with nine feet of muck. “There’s just no place to put it all,” says Wood.

This is just the latest in a series of wrong turns that have plagued the RWSA, as detailed in a C-VILLE cover story published on December 2, 2002.

The Authority spent $6 million and most of the ’80s planning a reservoir on Buck Mountain Creek, only to have the Environmental Protection Agency shoot down the project. Today, a new reservoir is not an option. “The regulators have told us they won’t consider any new impoundment,” says Bill Brent, director of Albemarle County’s Service Authority.

Now the RWSA is looking to raise water levels at Ragged Mountain Reservoir instead. Water officials say they understand people’s frustration, but that the RWSA is trying to both satisfy the regulatory agencies and give residents the most water for their dollar.

“We’re trying to be methodical,” says Brent. “We’ve come to many forks in the road, and we’re trying to make sure we take the right fork.”—John Borgmeyer

 

Green house
NatureNeutral stocks eco-friendly building supplies

Charlottesville’s newest eco-entrepreneur, John Meggs, sits among cans of nontoxic paint and samples of natural cork flooring in the new showroom of NatureNeutral, a modest but growing environmentally friendly home-improvement store in Berkmar Crossing.

Instead of delivering a slick sales pitch, Meggs emphasizes what’s missing from NatureNeutral products, including harsh chemical compounds, skin irritants and allergens. To wit, Meggs tosses a small square of fluffy blue cotton insulation from hand to hand, stopping for a moment to bring his face closer, inspecting it carefully. “See? It’s made from recycled denim,” he explains.

Sure enough, the blue coloring is not an artificial dye, and small shreds of denim are visible to the eye. Yet the biggest difference between this natural cotton insulation and its traditional fiberglass counterpart is that you don’t need to wear a respirator, safety glasses, work gloves or full skin protection when handling it.

Meggs, 42, moved to Charlottesville with his family in 2003 and launched his green business last month with NatureNeutral.com, an online store that he says gets in excess of 10,000 hits per week. That was followed by a warehouse on Greenbrier Drive and a showroom in Berkmar Crossing that opened to the public Monday, March 22.

As president of the company, Meggs started with “products that we felt people would be most comfortable with and would get the most benefit from” and stocked the shelves with bamboo flooring, nontoxic paint, eco-friendly carpets and his favorite, richly colored natural cork flooring harvested from live trees, without damaging them.

The market for environmentally friendly products is “wide open,” according to Meggs, and although green home improvement stores dot the West Coast, he admits “there’s really not a whole lot east of the Mississippi.” He’s counting on the “above average awareness about environmental issues” of local residents to sustain his business. Research from the Natural Marketing Institute confirms Meggs’ business instincts, finding that the market for eco-friendly products is 30 percent of all U.S. households.

When asked if NatureNeutral’s products cost more than traditional home products, Meggs is quick to answer, “A typical can of premium paint costs about $20-30 and our paint costs about $25-35. There is a premium to be paid in one sense, but I think you see enough of a benefit to justify the price.”

Although some people choose green home products because they find them aesthetically interesting or good conversation pieces (“Aren’t our kitchen cabinets lovely? They’re made from compressed straw”), others pick them for serious health reasons.

Scott Snow did. When building his house Stuart, Virginia, he knew he wanted nontoxic materials. After working around pesticides, Snow’s skin became irritated and developed into a condition that can occasionally flare up. “If I stay in a house that’s been newly built with conventional materials, I can feel the sensitivity in my skin coming back,” Snow says. He bought natural cotton insulation, wood stains and sealers through NatureNeutral—and drove more than two hours to pick them up.

For the chemically sensitive, green products aren’t a fad or a symbol of environmental values, they are a necessity. According to the Environmental Protection Agency’s Indoor Air Quality website, “building materials” are listed among common products that can “release pollutants more or less continuously” in the home. It’s for this reason that Meggs personally scrutinizes every product NatureNeutral sells, saying, “the goal in the long run is to give people safer and healthier alternatives.”—Kimberly Wilson

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News

Simply the nest

Q: Hello Ace. Every day that I drive to work, I see a sign that piques my curiosity. Coming from the south, driving north on Monticello Ave/20S after the 64W exit, there is a small sign on the right that says “Bird Sanctuary.” Where? How is this possible? Does it just mean the small clump of woods behind the sign or all of Charlottesville?—Feather Flockyear

A:The idea’s not so bird-brained, Feather. After some investigation, Ace figures the sign you spotted on Route 20 most likely refers to the Fernbrook Natural Area located off Route 784, on the North Fork of the Rivanna River. Ace found out that the site is affiliated with the Nature Conservancy. Its website, www.nature.org, lists Fernbrook as an “excellent example of a southern Piedmont forest in varying stages of successionhardwood forests, a successional oak-pine forest, as well as a small tract of southern pines.”

Hmmm, so there are a lot of trees, but what about the birds? Well, the Nature Conservancy lists a variety of birds that have been sighted in the natural area: pileated woodpeckers, ovenbirds, scarlet tanagers, ruby-throated hummingbirds and red-tailed hawks.

The flighty fellas stay around because it’s their natural habitat, currently in the process of being brought back to its prime. According to the website, the land was first acquired during the 1700s at a price of $45 and used for agriculture, cattle and timber production. That is, until 1963, when George and Jacintha Paschall donated the 63 acres with the intention of having it preserved in its natural state.

You can access Fernbrook by going north on Route 20 from Route 250 East for about nine or 10 miles. Turn left on State Route 600 at Stony Point, and then left on State Route 784, where you’ll find a trail entrance on the left.

But before you grab the binoculars, consider this: Daniel White, spokesperson for the Charlottesville branch of The Nature Conservancy, acknowledges that the area is largely unknown because of its small size. And they’d like to keep it that way since such a tiny ecosystem is susceptible to having its natural balance upset. “[Fernbrook] may not be able to withstand a lot of traffic. It’s basically just a nice walk in the woods alongside the river,” he says.

Instead, White recommends some other local nature destinations for birdwatching. “Fortune’s Cove in Nelson’s County is a much larger preserve about half an hour away. [There is also] Ivy Creek that the agency helped protect,” he says.

Finally, another reason to look elsewhere: Fernbrook has reportedly been home to bobcat sightings. “Along the river there’s no telling what might wander through there—foxes and deer, especially,” White says. Ace is happy to know that Charlottesville still hasn’t lost its wild side.

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Do the arts mean anything to anybody anymore?

Second only perhaps to God, nothing has been more eulogized in recent decades than Art. Commercial concerns have killed it, we hear. TV is its poison. Vulgarity and an overriding concern for celebrity have castrated painting, poetry, music, theater and literature. Pop is pap. Funders don’t understand art’s Significance. And so on. Yet an inevitable cycle of catastrophic events ensure Art’s repeated resurrection, and new technologies expedite its dissemination. Moreover, post-modern, post-colonial, post-feminist and post-post examinations of Art’s condition, including the high/low divide, continue to inspire critical discussion. Aptly, art is a different creature than it was, say, 200 years ago when the obsessions of an elite defined the aesthetic considerations of a generation and capitalism had not yet sucked poetics into its maw. But does this difference signal newfound irrelevance? Does destiny spell doom and gloom for the arts?

A group of scholars have made this very topic the subject of a two-day symposium, “The Fate of the Arts.” The Institute for Advanced Cultural Studies has invited well-established poets, painters, critics and philosophers to convene on UVA Grounds April 2-3 to discuss the subject. Judging from interviews and early looks at some of the papers that will be presented at the end of this week, reports of Art’s death may be greatly exaggerated—which is not to say contemporary arts lack issues or that the patient is completely healthy. Still, it seems that the answer to the fate of the arts depends on where you look for art, what you mean by art and how willing you are to confront your own assumptions about the arts.

UVA’s Institute for Advanced Studies in Culture, an interdisciplinary offshoot of UVA’s sociology department, regularly hosts a spring colloquium that addresses its principal areas of investigation, which co-program director Jennifer Geddes identifies as technology, commodification and politics. That is to say, the IASC, which she says “is taking a reading on contemporary culture” and looking at its “deep undercurrents” sees these three forces as shaping our ever-changing culture. Yet, until this year, the Institute had not turned its gaze to the arts. Now that it has, Geddes says, the questions that surface concern the presumed role the arts once had in society and the apparently diminished role that the contemporary arts hold in a technologically overrun, highly commodified, chronically politicized world.

There were once high ideals for the fine arts, she asserts, but nowadays “you don’t see people turning to the arts for a sense of meaning or purpose.”

Geddes’ list of follow-up questions runs long: “Why do the arts seem irrelevant? What does capitalism or commodity culture have to do with that? Should we be thinking about having the same hopes for the arts but looking at different arts? Is it that previous art forms have been replaced by other art forms, such that those hopes are still active?”

In other words, if the arts are now decoration where they were once (in the 18th and 19th centuries) transcendent and inspiring, what accounts for the change?

Maybe it’s a provocative question to raise in a town that just anointed a municipal arts task force and celebrates its newfound urban maturity with festivals dedicated to books and movies. And that’s not even taking into account the surfeit of music venues and graphic designer/waiter/musicians who paper the streets with news of their next gigs. M.F.A. candidates percolate through Mudhouse; painters leave nary a wall bare.

In Charlottesville, like many places throughout the nation, the arts are indisputably in full force. But are they meaningful? That’s the Institute’s question.

 

Adam Zagajewski, who is among the six speakers addressing “The Fate of the Arts,” is not pessimistic. As a member of the Polish New Wave of poets in the 1960s, he came of age in a politically charged climate. Ultimately he was exiled after the government crackdown on Solidarity, first settling in France and then the United States. Zagajewski’s “Try to Praise the Mutilated World” was the sole poem published in The New Yorker immediately following the attacks of September 11. “It was a poem published in response to a major national tragedy that people did find very relevant,” Geddes says. “Again, an interesting example of the connection between the arts and broader cultural conversations at the time.”

Speaking recently to C-VILLE, Zagajewski says, “I cannot say that there is a real diminishment of poetry’s action, though this action is very limited. It seems to me it had been limited, as well. Of course, we have this tendency to aggrandize the past action of art when we look back, especially in the field of visual arts. We are fascinated by posthumous success of artists, which didn’t always correspond to their successes and transformative action when they were alive.

“My poetic road started with poetry which was politically committed,” Zagajewski says. “Of course it has changed in Poland, too. Now the place of poetry is more modest, and yet I still see this as a kind of volcano that can erupt at any moment. At least in my country, poetry is still very much in the public place.”

When Zagajewski says “public place,” he is not talking about an actual location someplace where poets herald the day’s news to a gathering of civilians. Rather he means the imagined place of cultural and political discourse where the voice of a poet belongs as well as the voice of an economist or philosopher in addressing society’s woes.

Artist and critic Suzi Gablik, another colloquium speaker, calls for a similar kind of integrated aesthetic, and where she finds it, she too is relatively optimistic about the fate of the arts. Gablik trained as a painter with abstract expressionist Robert Motherwell. She says she hasn’t made art in 30 years. Indeed, she is best known currently for a wide body of theoretical and critical writing.

“Gablik has the sense that the arts should have a social impact—there should be a social role to the visual arts,” says Geddes. “We thought that was interesting and provocative—the idea that a painting should affect the world.”

Like Zagajewski, Gablik is positive on the current state of the arts. “Many people are feeling a pull away from the kind of dried-up art scene that is out there,” she told C-VILLE. “My sense is what we’re talking about here is a major paradigm shift in the whole culture.”

Gablik calls for artists to infuse their creativity with spirit—“the kind,” she says, “that embodies the altruistic attitude in using your creativity in the service of others.” That can mean, for instance, the kind of direct service typical of someone like potter John Hartoum, who transformed his ceramics work into social-healing work through Empty Bowls, a grassroots movement to eradicate worldwide hunger. At Empty Bowls, guests are invited to simple meals in exchange for a charitable cash donation; as a token of their gesture, they may keep the handmade ceramic bowls from which they’ve eaten their meal.

The artist, Gablik says, should operate within an “integral paradigm,” in other words, as a person connected to the real-life concerns of others.

Pablo Picasso exemplified the old, “nonintegral” approach, she says. “You could be a classic shit and be barely acceptable as a person, but if you make master works then it was O.K. That’s the old Cartesian, Kantian paradigm—separation of mind and body, separation of art and life. Ultimately it led to the idea of professionalization and a separation of disciplines.”

If the arts face a dark day, then segmentation will have to share some of the blame.

About his own field, Zagajewski makes a similar point: “Poetry is not an individual sport. There is a collective dimension,” he says. Zagajewski teaches M.F.A. students at the University of Houston, and his students, he notices “with horror,” don’t read history or philosophy. Their “narrow idea of what it means to be a poet” manifests in their work, which, he says with apparent frustration, “gains relevance more from this inner dialogue with poets than with nonpoetic voices.”

 

The idea of the demise of artistic relevance is rooted in a reading of 18th- and 19th-century culture that privileges the transcendent potential of the arts and credits as representative the writings of that era’s artists and philosophers. In other words, 200 years ago an elite of art-makers and art-commentators (but not average audiences, as far as anybody knows) said that art would soothe the world’s ills in a way that religion perhaps once had done. Nowadays, no one makes the same claim for the arts—least of all its audiences—so something must have gone terribly wrong in the interim.

Yale Divinity School Professor Nicholas Wolterstorff doesn’t buy the premise. He’ll be presenting his view at the symposium, too, and Geddes says he was selected specifically because he can address the Romantic idea “that the arts would replace religion,” she says, “that they would become the new religion.”

Wolterstorff says that taken as a whole, the fate of the arts is more positive than negative. But the foretelling of a gloomy scenario doesn’t surprise him because, “in the high arts for two centuries we have had a story we’ve told ourselves that said, among other things, that art is somehow lifted above ordinary social dynamics, and if things are going well the artist is a prophet.”

But the theoretical developments of the past three decades, says Wolterstorff, have made that story about the arts and their quasi-religious status untenable. “There have been all kinds of studies by scholars rubbing our noses in the racism and sexism and colonialism of art,” he says. “It becomes virtually impossible to tell ourselves the same old story anymore, and there’s a sense of cultural disappointment.”

Bill Ivey, who for three years directed the National Endowment for the Arts, would suggest that in significant ways the stories we tell ourselves about why the arts matter and which arts matter is, in fact, perilously unchanged. Now a visiting scholar at Vanderbilt University, the founder and director for 28 years of the Country Music Association has drafted a paper that questions why, despite slim employment opportunities at symphonies and other high arts establishments around the nation, conservatories continue to pump out classically trained musicians by the hundreds annually. Why, Ivey asks, does this supply-side practice in the arts continue unabated? Does it have to do with the class-based myth we tell ourselves as a society about which arts really matter? Simultaneously, Ivey wonders, why do arts that are more collaborative and vernacular, such as film or recorded music of many diverse genres, remain almost exclusively relegated to an ever-consolidating for-profit realm that treats these artifacts simply as products? How do profit motives and elitist notions of important art combine to bequeath government funding to arts that don’t really have a wide market and abuse through base capitalism the arts that are popular, vernacular and modern?

Ivey was invited to the symposium precisely because he will tackle the messy matter of money. “Ivey is asking the kind of questions about the relationship between money and art that are not very popular questions but are really important to ask,” says Geddes.

 

The other two members of this all-white, mostly male panel of scholars are literary critics Terry Eagleton and Krzysztof Ziarek. The former is on board, says Geddes, because besides being a star of what’s called cultural theory (he’s now on the faculty of the University of Manchester) and having earned many prestigious academic appointments at a young age, he is “a literary critic who still believes in art’s ability to change the world for good,” says Kevin Seidel, who is a graduate fellow at the Institute for Advances Studies in Culture. And Ziarek, a professor of comparative literature at the State University of New York-Buffalo “is good at grappling at big ideas in a clear accessible way,” says Seidel. “He can talk about philosophy and aesthetics.”

It’s heady stuff, this business of foretelling the fate of the arts. But if you’ve ever attended a First Fridays opening or sat through a movie thinking, “Who cares? What does this work want to say? What am I doing here? What does this have to do with anything?” then you might sympathize with the motives of the conference planners. How can something that is so abundant—the arts—seem at times so vapid? Does everybody feel this way, you might wonder. Have they always? Must this be how it is?

IACS will publish the six scholars’ papers in its summer edition of Hedgehog, the quarterly journal it has produced since 1999. So if you do not make it to the vaunted Dome Room of UVA’s Rotunda on Friday or Saturday, you will not have missed your only opportunity to feast on the fecund words of these thinkers. That said, Geddes is realistic, modest even, when asked about her expectations for the outcome of the free conference, to which all locals, by the way, are invited.

“We hope it will spawn more informed conversations,” Geddes says. “Ideally in this symposium, we would offer something that would elicit and inform the conversations happening here about the arts.”

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The Editor's Desk

Mailbag

Have some faith

Kent Williams: I read your review of The Passion of the Christ today in the March 9 C-VILLE [“The gospel according to Mel,” Film]. While I understand that subjectivity, rather than objectivity, is permissible in writing movie reviews, your article is painfully lacking in references. You make claims, as fact, based only on nebulous “Bible scholars,” while defensively criticizing the validity of the New Testament.

The claims you make are amusing to those who are studied not only in theology, but history. As a journalist, I would think that you would want to back up your (baseless) “truths” with sufficient reference and cross-reference a widely accepted study of historical antiquity, in the least, if not the New Testament [itself].

A skeptical journalist at the Chicago Tribune set out to do just that—to prove, through investigation and cross-examination, that the New Testament was legendary, contradictory and written too far beyond the time of Christ’s life on earth to be considered reliable history. Journalist Lee Strobel recorded his findings in a scientific-oriented book titled The Case for Christ. I challenge you to read it. Humility is liberating.

 

Leslie Bailey

Earlysville

 

Religious fervor

One-hundred million Orthodox Christians may not be wrong, but Rich Lowry certainly is [“The passion of the Right,” Right Turn, March 2]. His article reminds me of the book Angela’s Ashes, where Angela doesn’t want to go to the Catholic church, even though her family is starving, because they’ll force their religious beliefs on her in exchange for their “charity.” I’m also reminded how, growing up Southern Baptist, movies were strictly forbidden. Even the “good” movies supported a vile and evil industry chock full of sin. Now it’s O.K. to see a movie made by Mel Gibson, who has played some of the most violent characters on the screen? It’s nice to see some things haven’t changed: Christians are still mostly hypocrites. Bush would have us swallow Christianity or starve, but those of us who follow a different spiritual path shouldn’t be underestimated. They haven’t burned the Constitution—yet.

 

Donna Smith

Albemarle County 

 

Birth quake

I appreciated Brian Wimer’s report on midwifery in the Commonwealth [“Choice across party lines,” The Week, March 18]. However, I strongly call into question the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists’ (ACOG) position that “childbirth presents hazards that can only be addressed by a hospital setting.”

Over the past 15 years, more than 25 published studies indicate that for healthy, low-risk women, planned home birth is a safe option. In fact, the American Public Health Association (APHA) adopted a resolution in 2001 to increase access to home birth midwifery.

ACOG, in order to bolster its claim that home birth is not as safe as hospital deliveries, has widely publicized the results of a single study—despite the fact that the study authors admit to several methodological flaws that invalidate the results.

The most significant of these flaws is that the authors may have defined unplanned and unattended births as planned home births. In their discussion, the authors themselves warn that their study should not be used to advise consumers about the safety of planned home birth. Despite this, ACOG has attempted to drive this study into the public consciousness with a misleading press release about the conclusions and no mention of the methodological flaws.

Alternatively, a study in the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA), widely referred to as the Farm Study, examined pregnancy outcomes of 1,707 women that birthed at home attended by a group of lay midwives in rural Tennessee. Compared to other low-risk women who birthed during the same time period attended by physicians in hospitals, the home birth group experienced perinatal outcomes (mortality, apgar score, and labor complications) comparable to the physician-attended hospital group. However, the outcomes for the two groups were hardly “on par”—they differed significantly on the rate of intervention during labor. The home birth group was much more likely to deliver without the use of forceps, epidural anesthesia, episiotomies and cesarean section. The results of the Farm Study indicate that, under certain circumstances, home births attended by lay midwives can be accomplished as safely as, and with less intervention than, physician-attended hospital deliveries.

 

Brynne Potter

Charlottesville

 

Correction

Last week’s Election Watch incorrectly characterized the voting record of Republican candidate Kenneth Jackson. In fact, he voted in each of three recent elections, according to corrected City records. In responding to C-VILLE’s request for voting records, the City Registrar’s office provided our reporter with the record of a different Kenneth Wayne Jackson, not the candidate.

 

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News

Kick in the jazz

Q:Dear Ace, What happened to Charlottesville radio station Mix 107.5? There seem to be no DJs on the air since March 5 and the music selection has changed. Any information would be greatly appreciated!—All Mixed Up

A:Don’t touch that dial, Mixed—it wouldn’t do any good. Mix 107.5 has gone through what those in the biz call a “format change” to Smooth Jazz 107.5. Just last week the call letters officially changed from WUMX to WCJZ. Gone are Cyndi Lauper, the Bangles and the neon-bedecked ’80s brethren that once populated the frequency. In are Kenny G andwell, more Kenny G, Ace guesses.

Media überconglomerate Clear Channel Communications owns the former Mix, as well as local talk radio channel WCHV-AM 1260, Super Hits 102.3 (WSUH FM—which underwent its own format change last year from the classic rock of WFFX), Country 99.7 (WCYK FM), sports station WKAV-AM 1400 and Hot 101.9. Mix just wasn’t cutting it, says Clear Channel Charlottesville operations manager Regan Keith.

No kidding. According to the latest numbers released by radio rating company Arbitron (which Ace found on radioandrecords.com), WUMX ranked ninth out of 15 in the Charlottesville market, behind all of its Clear Channel bandwidth mates except for the two AM talkers.

Keith says that Clear Channel tried a couple of tricks to bring in listeners, most notably adding syndicated morning jock Kidd Kraddic to Mix’s lineup last year. But ultimately “it just wasn’t viable anymore,” Keith says. “We were throwing good money after bad.”

Hence the format change. Butsoft jazz? Ace has heard from numerous disgruntled readers who recently turned on Mix for Don Henley’s “All She Wants to do is Dance” and instead got lots and lots of sax. But Keith says that’s what the people wanted. Clear Channel’s in-house research, he says, discovered repeated requests for a jazz station. And as he points out, walk down the Downtown Mall on any weekend night and you’re liable to catch some smooth sounds wafting out. “People are hungry for it,” he says.

That raises the question of whether local jazz will find its way onto the station alongside the aforementioned Mr. G. It’s a possibility, Keith says, and Clear Channel has been considering approaching a local jazz luminary who has a history in Charlottesville radio (he wouldn’t tell Ace who).

“If we can find enough resources in the area that could support something like that” it would be great, he says. “That’s the roots of jazz, out on the street.”

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News

In the middle of the road with Garrison Keilor

“Pray for me in return,” implores Larry Wyler, prodigal Minnesotan, lapsed author, celebrated advice columnist and aging narrator of Garrison Keillor’s most recent novel, Love Me. He’s preparing to confess his life, remarking on his drab St. Paul neighborhood and sketching passers-by in hypothetical missives to Mr. Blue, his writerly Dear Abby persona. He spots a shabby young hipster, accompanied icily by his girlfriend, who he dubs “Confused” and in whom he sees a wracking choice between relationship and rebellion. Wyler, in his Mr. Blue voice, urges freedom—”Hey, it’s only life son. It can crowd in on a guy fast”—and silently informs the man that he’s saying “a prayer for you now as you walk past me” before Wyler makes his reciprocal plea.

Keillor did a real-life stint as a celebrity writer-turned-advice columnist—also under the name Mr. Blue—for Salon.com, submitting his final column in September 2001, shortly after he underwent major heart surgery. Among other improvements he made on the form, “Mr. Blue” featured free-form introductions by Keillor—he might meditate on circumstances and events in his own life that framed Keillor’s or Mr. Blue’s forthcoming views on correspondents’ traumas and dilemmas—and responses that weren’t limited by the tight column-inches constraint that prevails over print counterparts. He chose the name Mr. Blue, Keillor told Salon in a subsequent interview, “to suggest that I had been around the block and gotten knocked down a few times and had a healthy sense of melancholy.”

But if Keillor’s position as an authorial seigneur of angst and tribulation has accumulated over decades of personal experience, his various work—in 40-plus years in broadcasting and more than 10 books, as humorist and breadbasket mythologist and flinty political satirist—has always been pervaded by pronounced warmth and reflexive empathy with his audience. With Keillor, writerly introspection has been deployed in such a way that he and his audience are carried forward toward the same ends. Keillor, who visited Charlottesville last November for a broadcast of his public radio variety show “A Prairie Home Companion” at the Charlottesville Performing Arts Center, will return on March 24 as a headlining speaker at the Virginia Festival of the Book.

As with much of his work, Love Me, which was published last summer by Viking Press, stokes fervent curiosity about where reality leaves off and fiction begins. In addition to their parallel tenures as Mr. Blue, both Keillor and Wyler were born in 1942. Both married women they met while students at the University of Minnesota. Both scored early success with short, humorous stories published in The New Yorker, later becoming staff writers for the magazine and achieving considerable celebrity. Both had heated romances with Danish women (a second wife, in Keillor’s case).

Of course, the demarcation between fact and fiction is elsewhere bluntly evident, as these basic points of intersection give rise to a signature Keillor farce and provide a framework for absurd digressions. At Wyler’s New Yorker, J.D. Salinger is reimagined as an annoying colleague who attempts to lure other writers into co-authoring dead-end projects (like a “Holden Caulfield cookbook”). The New Yorker is secretly controlled by a Mafia chieftain who ultimately concludes the magazine needs more stories “in which people fish and hunt and get laid,” and so devises to merge it with another acquisition, Field and Stream. He’ll form a new title to be called The New Yonder, “about hunting and fishing but in the larger sense.”

And Wyler steams ahead on the rails of reasonable literary ambition in a way Keillor never did. In the introduction to 1982’s Happy To Be Here, Keillor’s first book, which collected stories originally published in The New Yorker, Keillor described how he abandoned an effort to write a sprawling work about “God or the American people.” In fact, he said, the stories in that anthology were written “in revolt against a book” and in admiration of the idea of “three pages sharp and funny” and New Yorker exemplars of the form, James Thurber, A.J. Leibling, S.J. Perelman and E.B White.

Wyler attempts and fails the “Great Midwestern Novel” too, but instead turns to a manual called How To Write Your Novel in Thirty Days and produces a pulpish best seller, Spacious Skies. His job at The New Yorker follows, then a flop of a sequel (Amber Waves of Grain), and decades of devastating writer’s block and archetypal dissolution (drinking, womanizing) under a comically indulgent editorial regime at the magazine.

There is redemption for Wyler, though. He finds purpose, and the self-respect of a man earning his living, in his Mr. Blue column. Cornered and urged by his fellow staff writers, Wyler shoots and kills The New Yorker’s Mafioso publisher in the famed Oak Room of Manhattan’s Algonquin Hotel, a volley in defense of the magazine’s purchase on the heights of American letters. And, finally, he reconciles with his wife and first love, a saintly altruist and sturdy Democrat, in St. Paul.

 

So, with the addition of yet another novel to his already extensive oeuvre, Keillor continues to eschew the “big” book and instead carries forward a “revolt against piety,” a phrase he used to describe an earlier work, Wobegon Boy, to the Atlantic Monthly in a 1997 interview. The hyperbolic absurdity of the overhaul contemplated for The New Yorker by its publisher in Love Me and Wyler’s guerilla role in opposing it say something genuine and passionate about Keillor’s view of the magazine. (Keillor left The New Yorker in 1992 when Tina Brown became its editor, and was unreserved in expressing his distaste for her prior work at Vanity Fair.) But the solemnity and awe with which the magazine is often treated is itself sent up by the overarching flippancy of Keillor’s mock memoir.

In the main, the book is offered as an “entertainment,” Keillor has said, and its satirical elements are characteristically gentle. Favoring scattershot zaniness over unmasked hypocrisy, he takes on quotidian foibles and life’s more mild distresses and disarms them. By and large, Love Me is too fanciful to be cutting and the targets too small to alarm.

In a 1995 Paris Review interview conducted by the late George Plimpton, Plimpton offered the admiring view that Keillor was exceptionally gifted with a sense for detail. Keillor denied it vigorously. “I don’t have much equipment at all. I have a very poor sense of smell. I leave blanks in all my stories. I leave out all detail, which leaves the reader to fill in something better.”

Plimpton pressed on, noting a Keillor story he’d read recently that involved “automatic milking systems,” suggesting that Keillor must have relied on “a lot of catalogues.”

“No. The Lake Wobegon stories are remarkably empty of detail. They are like 20-minute haikuThis is what permits people who grew up in Sandusky, Ohio, or Honolulu, Hawaii, or people who grew up in Staten Island for God’s sake, to imagine that I’m talking about their hometown,” Keillor insisted.

Keillor invented Lake Wobegon, a fictional central Minnesota town, to serve a similar purpose for him personally. The town acts as the setting for the quirky, homespun, episodic monologues that became the hallmark of his remarkably successful 25-year career as the host of “A Prairie Home Companion.”

Living on a farmhouse in rural Freeport, Minnesota, with his new wife and young child in the early ‘70s, making his cheap rent by selling stories to The New Yorker and working as an announcer for a local radio station, Keillor experienced a deep sense of isolation amid the native townsfolk, he wrote in National Geographic about three years ago. Despite his conventional grooming and behavior, and yearning for a “town with a bar, in which, if a stranger enters, he is, by God, without fail, intriguing to the regulars,” Keillor encountered an automatic suspicion of outsiders. He later identified the attitude as an abiding counter-reaction by the ethnic-German population against cultural persecution during World War I.

So, desperate to be invited into the inner life of his new community, the neighborly klatches at its restaurants and bars, but “having no idea how to traverse those 15 feet without feeling like a beggar,” Keillor returned “home to his typewriter and invent[ed] characters who look like the guys in the bar but who talk a blue streak, whose inner life he is privy to, and soon he has replaced the entire town of Freeport with an invented town of which he is the mayor, the fire chief, the priest, the physician, and the Creator himself.”

 

Keillor said he accepted the reserve of his Freeport neighbors because he was of similar stock, having grown up outside Minneapolis in a working class family of fundamentalist Protestants—members of a small sect called the Plymouth Brethren—”who could sit in silence for long stretches and not feel uncomfortable.” And if Keillor’s fiction and broadcasts—down to the narcoleptic cadences of his delivery—gave audiences a canvas they could decorate with their own reminiscences and reflections, its boundaries were still clearly informed by a sentimental affection for America’s small town communities and admiration for the hardscrabble virtues of his Minnesotan milieu.

Despite his childhood creed’s xenophobic tendencies, Keillor had exhibited an early interest in high culture and the writing life. And, paradoxically, Keillor has located the kernel of this affinity in his family. “What smote me with a desire for grandeur did not, of course, come out of thin air—it came from various relatives and from school teachers who possessed a certain grandeur themselves. One of my grandfathers enjoyed Milton, another could recite Burns. My father knew acres of Longfellow by heart, and he was a very grand poet. You hear ‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’ proclaimed to you when you are small and you get infected with the urge to show off yourself someday,” he told The Atlantic.

That small sect’s factious independence undoubtedly echoes in the undiscriminating assortment of subjects that have fallen under Keillor’s wry glance: literary ambition, radio, dogmatism and prim religious indignation itself, and everything in between. For example, in Keillor’s short story “WLT (The Edgar Area)”— included in the collection Happy To Be Here and later bundled with other stories to become the foundation of his 1991 novel WLT: A Radio Romance—an early radio pioneer becomes obsessively haunted by the possibility of indecent material creeping onto the airwaves and invading the homes of listeners. So he formulates a broadcasting code (“The Principles of Radiation”) to instruct his staff against that eventuality: “‘By the grace of God, it is given to us to cast our bread on distant waters,’” he wrote in the code. ‘‘‘See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise.’ Eph. 5:15.’” Later, someone plants a mildly racy story in place of the intended script for a regular monologist, parts of which are read on the air. As a precaution against another such incident, the announcer prepares a reserve script, but the reserve script is inevitably spiced up anyway after decades of rewrites in the hands of others.

“Friendly Neighbor” (also used to seed WLT: A Radio Romance) incorporates a similar satirical scenario when the career of Walter “Dad” Benson, an old-time Midwest broadcaster with a worshipful regional following, ends days after he crosses a repressive line of decency by depicting the plight of a girl whose father has decided to spend Christmas with his mistress. Along with other Keillor staples—such as the absurd thread in which Benson serves as a cultural intermediary in a supposed statewide rivalry between Minnesota and North Dakota—the elegiac “Friendly Neighbor” also hints at a spiritual dimension in Keillor’s work. In a eulogy, a Reverend Weiss recalls telling Benson, “You were a pastor of the flock as much as I, or perhaps more so, for your sermons were in the form of stories, as the parables of old, and brought home spiritual truths far better than preaching ever could.”

“The U.S. government was corrupt, dishonest, but the culture of the American people was honest, decent, and profoundly sane, and the germs of this sanity were carried by folk songs,” Peter Scholl quoted Keillor as saying of his early days as a disc jockey in Scholl’s 1993 critical study. Like the American roots music he favored, Keillor has often been a stealthy voice of Lefty dissent, offering a commentary on the powers that be with a unique license afforded by his practical religiosity and equal-opportunity application of the heartland’s no-nonsense, self-aware skepticism.

In one memorable bit during an early 2003 broadcast of “A Prairie Home Companion,” the performance of a folk diddy was interrupted by a fake news bulletin reporting that the Department of Homeland Security had raised a “fuchsia” alert over concerns that the Second Coming had taken place. George W. Bush, interviewed by a National Public Radio correspondent, noted that neither he nor any of the “Axis of Evangelicals” officials at the broadcasting conference he was attending had been sucked up and urged calm, theorizing that missing people may have simply duct-taped themselves in too securely. (It turned out that large numbers of Lutherans had disappeared, leaving one Lutheran bishop—interviewed by phone— free of his wife and the duty to prepare a Sunday sermon and allowing him to fulfill his desire to check out one of those dancing clubs “where they turn the lights down low and you don’t necessarily know who it is you’re dancing with.”)

Accused later for blaspheming, Keillor responded, “I am a Christian and grew up fundamentalist and we always joked about the rapture. If that’s blasphemy, then you should go minister to the Sanctified Brethren. And it’s plain idolatry to place a man beyond the reach of satire. It’s pure 100 percent blasphemy and idolatry. I could say more about you false Christians on the Right and you wouldn’t like to hear it, sir.”

While characterized by Keillor’s customary whimsy, the rapture parody stands out for its sharpness by, among other things, raising questions about who among his constituency Bush thinks is going to hell. But, as a whole, Keillor’s humor is defined by its lightness, in contrast, for example, to the stories of George Saunders, a humorist of a subsequent generation whose work Keillor has blurbed admiringly. Saunders, like Keillor, employs empathetic characters who drown in their own reality but manage to convey more than they know. Saunders too exploits the coarseness of corporate nomenclature for comic effect, and manages touching humanist narratives amid the satire. But while Keillor often seems to pivot wildly in pursuit of the next joke to be found, Saunders appears more disciplined. He consistently renders a dark refraction of contemporary society—like a parallel universe that broke from our own sometime around 1994—to say something about what we might become, or perhaps what we really are.

Keillor has consistently disclaimed the burdens of being “a giant and a vast force for good in our time,” to use a formulation he offered to The Atlantic. But of his superficially more frivolous role as an advice columnist, he said in his valedictory submission, “Nothing human is beneath a writer’s attention; the basic questions about how to attract a lover and what to do with one once you get one and how to deal with disappointment in marriage are the stuff that fiction is made from, so why not try to speak directly? And so I did.”

Ultimately, what you get out of Keillor rests heavily on the highly subjective issue of whether you think he’s funny. On his own behalf, Keillor has summarized himself this way: “I’m a late-middle-aged mid-list fair-to-middling writer with a comfortable midriff, and it gives me quite a bit of pleasure.”

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Local News

The home front
Foster parents open their doors while localities search for cash

Evelyn and George Riner want more kids. From the prodigious amount of laundry flapping from sagging clotheslines in their backyard, it would seem their household is already overflowing. In fact, 11 people, nine dogs and eight cats live in the Riners’ house and a double-wide trailer on the 10 acres they own in north Albemarle, but it’s not enough for Evelyn.

“I come from a big family16 kids,” she says. Evelyn grew up in Greene County with her grandfather, a Pentecostal preacher who took in runaway children. “It didn’t matter if they were kin or not,” she says. “If they were hungry, he’d take them in.”

Early in their marriage, the Riners plucked homeless kids straight off the street. Since moving to Albemarle 10 years ago, however, the family has grown by accepting foster children from the local social service system.

Both Charlottesville and Albemarle routinely remove children from troubled households and send them to live—sometimes permanently—with foster parents. The 1992 Comprehensive Services Act (CSA) requires the Commonwealth and localities to share the cost of caring for foster children, which includes living expenses, therapy and special education.

Those costs have been skyrocketing, largely driven by an increasing number of children with severe physical, mental and emotional handicaps, say local officials. In 1995, the City spent about $310,000 on CSA services, while the County spent about $450,000. By 2002 those bills climbed to about $1,705,000 for the City and more than $2,250,000 in Albemarle. In both jurisdictions, the per-child CSA service costs are climbing, although the number of Albemarle children receiving CSA services is declining. In Charlottesville, CSA cases have climbed from 189 in 1995 to 360 last year—which is about 33 percent higher than the maximum recommended by the Child Welfare League of America, according to a recent report by the local Commission on Children and Families.

“We’ve got more complex kids coming into the system,” says Kathy Ralston, Albemarle’s social service director. “It’s not just your regular foster kid that needs some loving care. They’re more disturbed. They need psychiatric care, maybe even lockdown.”

 

In January, a City-County report on CSA costs reported that the best way to control the climbing social services budget is to prevent the family problems that put kids in foster care in the first place—a challenging solution in times of tight State and local budgets.

In the meantime, the task of caring for troubled children falls to people like the Riners, many of whom literally devote their lives to rearing other people’s kids. Tri-Area Foster Families is a joint Charlottesville-Albemarle-Greene agency that, along with private agencies like DePaul Family Services and People Places, trains foster parents and matches them with children. The agencies provide moral support and small stipends, depending on the severity of a child’s handicaps. Children who can’t find local foster homes are sent to more expensive group homes around the state.

Most children arrive with intense histories, such as a 5-year-old boy who came to the Riners after attempting suicide. Others need almost around-the-clock attention, such as a severely handicapped boy whom Connie Tomasso took as a foster child.

“These kids have always been told they’re no good, and they come to you feeling wrong about everything,” says Tomasso, a former nurse who has fostered seven children. “You give them warmth and love, and when you make that breakthrough with them, its fantastic.”

When juvenile court judges order children into foster care, the court gives the birth family a chance to get their kids back by following a plan to correct their dysfunctions. Social service workers say they prefer that children live with either their birth families or relatives, but many times foster parents adopt their children permanently.

The Riners currently have two foster children and one adopted child in their home—a total of 12 have passed through their care (24 if you count the kids they take on weekends to give other foster parents a few days’ respite). Evelyn says she’s got no problems with the local foster system, except one—a rule that limits the number of children one household can accept. “I’d like to have five or six more if they’d give them to me. The more the merrier,” Evelyn says.—John Borgmeyer

 

Slice and dice
Council takes a knife to the budget

For the second time in as many Council meetings, on Monday, March 15, City Manager Gary O’Connell introduced his proposed budget to the public with what he called “a whirlwind tour of City government, from A to Z.” The short film that followed, narrated by O’Connell and produced by City public relations director Maurice Jones, featured a pulsing techno soundtrack and information on 26 highlights of City government, from its AAA bond rating to the zoning ordinance.

For those of you who missed the flick during Council’s regular meeting that night, don’t fret—you can still catch the video on Adelphia Channel 10, Government Access Television, alongside Jones’ other shows, “The Talk of Cville” and “Inside Charlottesville.”

Does Charlottesville really need two television programs emanating from City Hall? That’s the kind of question City Councilors will have to ask as they examine O’Connell’s proposed budget, in preparation of voting on a final version April 13.

When reached by C-VILLE, Councilor and incumbent candidate Kevin Lynch said he “looked at” the communication department’s $263,470 budget. (At a time when other City departments are looking for places to cut, the communications department will add a new position next year, to be financed by Adelphia as part of the cable company’s franchise agreement with the City.)

But that’s not where Lynch proposes cuts. Instead, he might take his scissors to the Charlottesville-Albemarle Convention and Visitor’s Bureau, which is asking for a 20 percent increase in funding. “I’m not convinced their outcomes warrant that,” Lynch says.

Another agency on Lynch’s list is the Thomas Jefferson Regional Partnership for Economic Development, which receives $12,500 each year from the City. “I just don’t see the return,” says Lynch, who also supports charging higher rents for artists at McGuffey Art Center and postponing some one-time capital improvements, such as undergrounding power lines.

Other Councilors have less specific ideas of where to trim the fat.

Blake Caravati wants to slice $25,000 chunks out of various programs and agencies instead of cutting whole programs. He suggests applying the savings to reduce the 911 tax (proposed to climb to $3 from $1) and provide property tax relief.

Outgoing Councilor Meredith Richards also favors more property tax relief for the poor, elderly and disabled. Simply cutting the property tax rate only helps big property owners, she says.

Council’s other lame duck, Mayor Maurice Cox, favors more property tax relief for the indigent, too, and he supports raising fees instead of cutting the budget. “We’re at the point where further cuts mean we’ll have to stop delivering certain services that people have come to rely on,” says Cox, citing as examples the City’s free pickup of leaves and big trash items.

All four Democratic Councilors blamed the City’s growing expenses on State budget cuts for police, social services and the regional jail.

Republican Rob Schilling couldn’t be reached by deadline, but last week he told WINA 1040 AM he questions the City’s plan for a major computer upgrade. Schilling actually joined his colleagues in unanimous support of the upgrade last month.—John Borgmeyer

Always on track
Holmes Brown dipped into his athletic past to name Head Start

At 90 years old, Holmes Brown still plays tennis every week. Slight, spry and sitting in his office wallpapered with tennis racquets, the lifelong public relations guru is as ready to talk about capitalism in Russia as he is to talk about the bust he is sculpting of his neighbor. On the wall hang personal letters from Lady Bird Johnson and Ronald Reagan, a copy of the famed Dean’s List of Nixon’s enemies on which his name is marked as business enemy No. 2, his track shoes from 1936, and a Head Start flag. Brown is not merely a collector of Americana: Among countless other things, he helped establish the preschool poverty-intervention program known as Head Start. In fact, he named the thing.

Initiated in 1964 through Sargent Shriver’s Office of Economic Opportunity, as part of Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty program, Head Start was founded on the belief that to break the cycle of poverty the government had to provide poor preschool-age children with compensatory tools to address their socioeconomic disadvantages.

In 1964, some expert PR work was needed to guarantee the 90 percent Federal funding this new program required. As with almost everything, the first public relations endeavor was finding the right name. Enter Holmes Brown, who had just accepted the position Director of Public Affairs at the Office of Economic Opportunity on a volunteer basis.

Brown and Shriver were riding in Shriver’s limousine one day and, Brown recalls, “[Shriver] says, ‘We got to think of the name of this thing before we go to Congress to pick up this dough. It’s got to be something athletic. Baseball,’ he said. ‘What about a Fourth Strike or a Base on Balls or Homerun?’

“And I said, ‘Sarge, you may be a baseball player, but I’m a track man, and what do you want in track? You want a head start.’”

Even this was not Brown’s high point, however. Everybody has one special talent, and he modestly claims his is letter writing. He’s referring specifically to the letter he wrote and mailed to 100,000 educators up and down the East Coast in one weekend, encouraging them to write back in support of Head Start’s creation.

“I worked like hell to get these things out over the weekend,” Brown says, laughing. “And when [Shriver and I] met on Monday and he said ‘Have you got any returns on any of those letters yet?’ and I said ‘No! I don’t think anybody’s even read one yet.’ Tuesday, two or three trickled in, and each day he kept asking. By the end of two weeks we had 13,000 acceptances and were able to turn every one into a Head Start program.”

The Monticello Area Community Action Agency (MACAA) provides Head Start in Charlottesville, serving approximately 230 children each year. Due to recent budget cuts, MACAA has had to eliminate a couple of its programs, but the leadership there hopes for a bit of a reprieve thanks to the proceeds earmarked for Head Start from this year’s Charlottesville 10-Miler. Holmes Brown, trackman that he is, will be there at the 10-Miler on Saturday, April 3, as the honorary starter. He’ll fire the gun, start the race and probably tell a couple of stories.—Nell Boeschenstein

 

Quotes for votes
Council candidates expound at first forum

All six candidates for Charlottesville’s City Council came together to speechify and answer questions during the election’s first forum Thursday, March 18, which was sponsored by the Virginia Organizing Project and other local groups. Though the candidates’ meeting at the Monticello Event and Conference Center lasted two hours, their statements were both substantive and entertaining enough to keep audience attrition relatively light.—Paul Fain

Best money line

Republican Kenneth Jackson, who in explaining how he would trim back what he sees as a City budget “filled and primed with pork,” said, “you cut the fat at the top.” Democrat Kendra Hamilton also had several good soundbites, including, “I think we’re spending too much to lock people up.”

Best use of brevity

Democrat David Brown, whose two responses to questions on gay marriage and possible new nuclear reactors in Louisa County lasted a combined total of about 10 seconds. Brown supports gay marriage and is concerned about the reactors.

Best “get tough on artists” line

Independent Vance High, who, when asked whether he would evict artists from the McGuffey Art Center in favor of housing, responded with a yes, saying “artists are artists” and “they can find another space.” The response was the first by a candidate not to garner any applause.

Best argument for incumbency

Democrat Councilor Kevin Lynch, who gave the “there is quite a lot that I think the City is already doing” response or something similar to several questions. Lynch often followed up with something along the lines of “Now have we done enough? Of course not.”

Best shot at high-dollar developments

Hamilton, who said kicking artists out of McGuffey to create housing would likely just “be another opportunity to sell $450,000 condos.”

Best appeal to populism

Republican Ann Reinicke, who mentioned the “high-crime neighborhood” in which she lives, her role as a foster parent and mentor, as well as her commitment to affordable housing and helping single parents and at-risk kids.

Best failed pop culture reference

High, who mangled the woefully outdated Wendy’s slogan “Where’s the beef?” with what sounded like “Show me the beef.”

Most inappropriate rejoinder to a question

When asked what he thought of the two competing State budgets, Jackson said, “I’m not going to get into this Democrat and Republican thing because I think it’s childish.”

Best smackdown

Jackson, who said that a Council ruling on gay marriage, which he does not support, would be a “fake” proclamation. “It doesn’t mean squat,” Jackson said. “That’s not my ball of wax.”

Can we talk?”
Meeting in the works for Councilors and Supes

With controversial transportation projects dominating local politics, members of Charlottesville City Council and the Albemarle County Board of Supervisors think it’s time to get together for a chat.

“I personally think some dialogue between our groups is needed,” says Supervisor Kenneth Boyd.

Though members from the two groups of politicos meet regularly while working on as many as 25 joint panels and commissions, such meetings usually only include a couple representatives from both sides. A full joint meeting hasn’t happened for about two years, so Boyd and Councilor Kevin Lynch got the ball rolling for the huddle, which might occur before the end of the month.

According to Mayor Maurice Cox, likely topics for the discussion would include the proposed U.S. 29 Western Bypass, the Meadowcreek Parkway and a plan, which is being developed by the Thomas Jefferson Planning District Commission, for transportation improvements along the 29N corridor and Hydraulic Road. Cox says the County’s growth strategies for 29N and Crozet are taking retail revenue away from the City.

“I’m not sure if Albemarle is aware of the negative impacts of that type of development on the City,” Cox says. “As two bodies, we haven’t focused on it and addressed it.”

During the March 17 meeting at the County Office Building, Supervisors voiced support for a powwow with the City. But Supervisor Sally Thomas expressed wariness about a politically charged discussion that could be light on substance.

“They’re really eager to tell us what to do with roads in our community,” Thomas said during the Supervisors’ meeting.

Supervisor Dennis Rooker, who supports the meeting idea, says local politicians possess varying levels of expertise on roads and development. This is because Councilors and Supervisors can’t be experts on everything, and must choose issues on which to specialize, Rooker says. As a result, a full meeting could be a challenge.

“Often it’s easier to get things accomplished in a small group,” Rooker says.

With three City Council seats up for grabs in the May election, Supervisors had a mild disagreement Wednesday night about when to schedule the meeting. Rooker suggested waiting until after the election, when new Councilors would be on board. But Boyd said a preelection meeting would take advantage of the “tremendous experience” Council will lose with the departure of Cox, Meredith Richards and, perhaps, Lynch, who is up for reelection. Rooker later said he was amenable to an earlier date.

“Anytime’s fine,” Rooker says of the meeting.

If indeed a meeting can be scheduled during the busy budget season, Richards, the City’s Vice-Mayor, says she will push for the City and County to take advantage of a new Virginia Department of Transportation (VDOT) program that allows local jurisdictions to seize the reins of road projects from VDOT.

“I don’t think VDOT has the capacity in its culture to build the kind of parkway we have in mind,” Richards says. “We can do a better job and do it more effectively.”—Paul Fain with additional reporting by John Borgmeyer.

Fight club
UVA student sues his attacker

Perhaps UVA’s diversity training isn’t reaching its target audience. On March 17, UVA senior Luis Avila filed a lawsuit against senior Joshua Weatherbee and his fraternity, Alpha Delta Phi, after Weatherbee beat up Avila in an allegedly racially motivated attack.

According to documents filed last week in Charlottesville Circuit Court by Avila’s lawyer, Ed Wayland, the incident happened at an Alpha Delta Phi party on September 19. Weatherbee “drank a number of alcoholic beverages and became intoxicated,” and “stated to several members of Alpha Delta Phi during the course of the party that it was his intention to punch or strike Avila if he came to the party,” according to the suit.

The suit alleges Avila had been invited to party as a guest of Alpha Delta Phi, and when he finally arrived fraternity pledgemaster Weatherbee made good on his threat. According to the suit, Weatherbee attacked Avila without any provocation, “striking him with his fists in his face and body, throwing him to the floor, falling on him and striking him repeatedly.”

The suit claims Weatherbee told Avila, a native of Peru and a legal permanent resident of the United States, that he “should go back to Mexico” and that he “should be washing my dishes.” The suit also claims Weatherbee repeatedly told Avila, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The suit claims that “the members of Alpha Delta Phi, with one exception, took no action to protect Avila.” The suit says fraternity member Christopher Dow pulled Weatherbee off Avila, but Weatherbee renewed the attack. Dow pulled Weatherbee away a second time, and Avila escaped into the front yard, where a friend tried to drive Avila to the hospital. The suit says Weatherbee chased Avila around the car, reiterating that he was “going to fucking kill” the plaintiff.

The suit says Avila stayed at UVA Medical Center until the next afternoon, suffering cuts and bruises, a black eye and broken bones in his face. The suit also claims Avila suffered “pain, limitation of activities, emotional distress, fear, anxiety, depression, sleeplessness, humiliation” and he considered dropping out of school for the semester as a result of the attack.

Avila says his injuries were so severe he missed weeks of school and work. “The doctor said that if it was just a little worse, I could have actually lost my sight,” Avila told C-VILLE. “It was that severe.”

On December 12, Weatherbee pleaded guilty to assault and battery in Charlottesville General District Court. He was sentenced to 12 months in jail, with all but 30 days suspended.

Avila’s civil suit asks Weatherbee to pay $300,000 in compensatory and punitive damages for assault and battery and for racial intimidation. It also asks the fraternity’s parent company, Alpha Delta Phi of Virginia, Inc., to pay $300,000 for negligence, alleging that the fraternity had a duty to protect Avila, since he attended the party as a guest.

Weatherbee could not be reached by presstime and his lawyer, Robert Hagy II of Palmyra, declined to comment on the suit.—John Borgmeyer

 

Categories
News

If you bump it why will come

Inside the studio of East Village Radio on the weekend before the New Hampshire primary, the hip hop activists cue up their mental scripts while awkwardly climbing past each other for their turn at the mic. The low-power underground FM station broadcasts from a Manhattan storefront the size of walk-in closet. As is often the case when hip hop and politics are brought under the same roof, things are cramped, disorganized and getting hot.

“We’re back,” says DJ Ariel, the mellow-voiced hostess of the Soulution Sunday Brunch. “The subject of today’s show is the hip hop generation and the youth vote—or more specifically, the lack of the youth vote.”

It’s a question that has loomed large among political strategists, youth activists and educators for decades, and one that seems to take on a more desperate tone every four years during the presidential election: How do we get young people to the polls? Sitting to DJ Ariel’s right is George Martinez, Blackout Arts Collective co-founder, and Martha Diaz, president of the National Hip Hop Association (NH2A). Both of them are right in their element. If the subject is voter apathy, they say, it’s time to teach through hip hop.

“Today’s youth,” says Martinez, “you can’t talk to them unless you’re talking about hip hop." A professor of political science at Pace University, the 29-year-old was born in El Barrio and laid down his musical and political roots in the Bronx under the B-boy tag “Rithm.”

Diaz agrees. The former high school teacher started NH2A as a vehicle for education reform: “We need different interpretations and different insight into what’s going on. We need to get young people connected and involved in the political process.”

Hip hop’s recent domination of the Grammy Awards is an indisputable indicator that the underground music scene has emerged as a cultural and economic powerhouse. But as Martinez points out, hip hop’s political relevance—at least in terms of elections—is still up for grabs. And now, with the 2004 elections coming on fast, this has led several hip hop organizations to declare a political call to arms among the hip hop generation.

This might be easier said than done. The NH2A, the Hip Hop Summit Action Network, Rock the Vote and others are all mobilizing to carve out a slightly different, sometimes conflicting, vision of hip hop’s political identity. What is at stake is not only which white guy is sitting in the Oval Office, but whose voice is behind the microphone of hip hop America.

 

Where my young voters at?

As presidential candidates crisscross the country to mine the electorate for any new or swayable voters, young voters (18 to 24 or 30) remain as elusive as a bad dancer who’s avoiding the prom. According to Political.com, this is especially true among minorities and disenfranchised youth in urban and rural areas, who have lower voter turnout rates than white suburban youth.

Multiply this generalization by the fact that young voters as a whole traditionally have the lowest turnout rate of any age group. Naina Khanna of the League of Young Voters says that only 32 percent of 18- to 24-year-olds voted in the 2000 presidential election. “And that’s 10 percent lower than the number that voted in the 1992 election,” she says. This is a far cry from the politically tumultuous days of the 1960s and ’70s, when voters in that age bracket headed to the polls at a rate of more than 50 percent.

The reason for the drop? The explanation most young people give is that voting is simply not important in their daily life, and they don’t see their concerns or their beliefs reflected in the political debate. In regards to the current election, DJ Ariel relays her listener’s frustration. “We have all these different characters up there telling us, ‘Vote for me, vote for me,’ and they all sound the sameThey don’t necessarily speak to young people.”

But voter apathy and low turnout among young people is a self-creating phenomenon. Kids don’t vote, in part, because they don’t feel politicians are addressing their concerns, and politicians aren’t addressing their concerns because young people don’t vote. Senior citizens, meanwhile, typically vote at a rate double that of 18- to 24-year-olds and thus have enormous influence over the agendas politicians push for. Funds for higher education can get pummeled, but lay a finger on grandma’s pocket book, sonny, and you can kiss your political career goodbye.

 

Developing a political agenda

Yet while most young’uns turn to the soothing balm of indifference, others are drawn toward alternative means of expressing their frustration, which is where hip hop steps up to bat. Ruth Henry, a middle-school teacher from inner-city Boston, sees hip hop as a communication tool that has filled the civic gaps for many young people. “Our hip hop artists and our poets are becoming like our historians,” she says, “our reporters and our prophets. So the power [of hip hop] is that it is able to spread information on a local level, a national level and a global level.”

Martinez knows first-hand how hip hop can spread information and influence politics. In 2002, he won a New York City Council seat in a heated race by campaigning under a progressive, street-wise platform of community empowerment. This soon morphed into a position under the New York State Attorney General, and Martinez is now able to boast about being the first rapper ever elected to political office.

But he’s not the only hip hop politician out there. In 2001, Kwame Kilpatrick was elected mayor of Detroit. The self-proclaimed “Mayor of Hip Hop” started his political career in the Michigan House of Representatives in 1996. At age 31, he became the youngest mayor of a major city. Though the Detroit News has criticized Kilpatrick’s “pricey gangster threads” and Escalade motorcades, it also called him, “the political voice of urban youth [and] the picture of what the next generation of black leaders will look like.”

Though Kilpatrick comes from within the Democratic establishment—his mother is a Michigan congresswoman and his father is a county executive—most hip hoppers working within the political system originated from within the activist community. Ohio Congressman Dennis Kucinich, for instance, brought on Reverend Osagyefo Uhuru Sekou, a 32-year-old minister from St. Louis, as the “ambassador to the hip hop community.” Sekou organized hip hop house parties and concerts to get the vote of 18- to 24-year-olds who might have been attracted to Kucinich’s brand of progressivism. The former MC is also an activist who embraced hip hop in his work with troubled teens. “It became a pedagogical tool for me when I was doing anti-gang work and violence prevention in the St. Louis public schools,” he says.

But Sekou acknowledges that hip hop faces many challenges before it can produce a replicable strategy to influence the political system on both local and national levels. “There’s some fledgling models [but] we don’t know how sustaining it can be,” Sekou says. “And we don’t have adequate resources and even with those resources we run up against the gate-keepers within the record industry or the older activists who really don’t understand the value of this demographic. They have to be willing to sit there and give up power and resources. And they say to me, ‘Well, do these people vote?’ And my question back to them is, ‘Have we given people something to vote for?’“

Sekou also acknowledges that hip hop fans need to take responsibility and come up with a political agenda. “What are our demands? Who’s our constituency?” he asks.

These are the very questions at the heart of the National Hip Hop Political Convention to take place June 16-19 in New Jersey. It bills itself as a “gathering of the hip hop generation to vote on, adopt and endorse a political agenda.” Working with Diaz’s NH2A and other activist groups, organizer Baya Wilson sees the convention’s focus as different from other hip hop political initiatives that only deal with candidate profiles or voter registration. By utilizing delegates from around the country, the convention seeks to establish a coherent constituency. “We can go on and endorse and develop a political unity,” Wilson has said, “so that when these politicians come to the table we can say this is who we are and this is what we want.”

Empowering the hip hop community and young people with the political weight of a constituency is also the drive behind William Upski Wimsatt’s new brainchild, The League of Independent Voters. Author of the seminal hip hop books Bomb the Suburbs and No More Prisons, Wimsatt hopes to utilize the Internet—in the vein of Moveon.org and Meetup.com—to not only get young people to vote, but to also organize to swing specific states in the favor of youth-minded candidates. Naina Khanna of the League says that young people need to organize, put together their platforms and endorse certain candidates.

These may be revolutionary ideas for the youth and hip hop community, but it’s nothing new within American politics. Like-minded groups of people have long banded together in voter blocks in order to hold greater clout. Think of the Christian Right, labor unions or the NAACP—all have very clear agendas and messages, which they project into the political debate to get what they want. Within hip hop, however, there is a divide not across political boundaries (it’s doubtful any Hip Hoppers For Bush chapters will be starting up anytime soon), but between the commercial end of hip hop and those who have an aesthetic vision of what hip hop can and should be. While it’s not the kind of conflict that destroys movements, this divergence may become more distinct and difficult to overcome as the elections approach.

Ever since the days of the politically charged lyrics of Public Enemy and KRS-One, hip hop has busted beats through the lens of social justice issues like racism, poverty, education and police brutality. Though much of what passes for mainstream hip hop today can be dropped into the category of Top 40 crap, one can still find socially conscious lyrics by acts like the Roots, Q-Tip and Mos Def positioned on the charts between the flashy nihilism of bling-blingers like Jay-Z and Puff Daddy.

Today, many draw a line between industry-driven mainstream rap and the world of underground hip hop. Cedric Muhammed, who pilots webzine blackelectorate.com, pointed out in a recent interview with hip hop radio guru Davey D, that the split between differing hip hop factions won’t make it easy to unite the scene under one political umbrella: “We have activists that don’t like the academic intellectuals who don’t like the entrepreneurs who don’t like some of the artists who are struggling to develop a political consciousness.”

 

MasterS in da house

And then there’s Russell Simmons. The legendary founder of Def Jam Records, Simmons is credited with bringing hip hop culture into the consciousness of mainstream America. He is Chairman of the Hip Hop Summit Action Network, which draws thousands from the hip hop diaspora to its yearly conventions for concerts, panels and workshops. The 46-year-old recently launched the more ambitious “One Mind, One Vote” campaign that hopes to register 2 million voters in the next six to nine months and 20 million in the next five years. To do this, Simmons plans to put on 30 to 40 Hip Hop Summits before the November presidential elections (he held the first one in Houston on Super Bowl weekend).

But for the likes of Martinez and other hip hop activists, in the long run Simmons’ good intentions often do more harm than good. It has been noted by many that Simmons’ huge success is due in part to the fact that he markets hip hop like a brand. His political methodology is best viewed as a business model, they say, selling his Phat Farm clothing and his new Def-Con 3 energy drink while the “compassionate capitalist” slangs his political message. Because of this he has been credited—and reviled—more than anyone for intertwining hip hop and commercialism.

“We recognize bullshit,” says Martinez. He is critical of the “rap industry elite,” who encourage young people to Rock the Vote but don’t advocate strong political stances and perhaps haven’t even voted themselves. An example he gives is Jay-Z, who registered to vote once in 1988 but hasn’t voted since. “It’s what we call ‘hip hopcricy,’” Martinez says.

 

Choose Your Own Decisions?

Rev. Al Sharpton, who disappointingly wasn’t granted Simmons’ endorsement for president, clearly realizes his position within hip hop. In his book, Al on America, he cuts right to the heart of the culture’s current dilemma, “[T]he question for Russell and others of the hip hop generation is not who they’re going to endorse for political office,” Sharpton says, “but what they’re going to endorse.”

Or, as the Weekly Standard once said of Rock the Vote, “Practicing politics without content is like dancing without music. It can be done, but there’s not much joy in it.”

Since 1992, Rock the Vote has been one of the most successful young voter registration organizations, mostly because of its high visibility as a frequent collaborator with MTV. In order to make young people care about politics, Rock the Vote defers to a stable of famous people including Coolio, John Leguizamo and Snoop Dogg as “artists who rock the vote.” Its president, Jehmu Green, who once headed women’s outreach for the Democratic National Committee, has a mission similar to that of other organizations. “Looking at how close this election is going to be, young people really have the opportunity to be the swing vote,” Green told Free Speech TV. And since Rock the Vote is the best established and most well known of the youth voter campaigns, it has a high likelihood of getting the most people to sign on.

But like many of the nonprofits working for voter registration, Rock the Vote has to conduct itself under the guise of a nonpartisan organization. This can become problematic, say many activists. Simply registering young voters who may already be politically indifferent and then telling them to “choose” won’t ensure that they’ll be engaged, responsible voters.

 

Herding cats

Perhaps one of the biggest obstacles the hip hop community must overcome as it wades into the tumultuous tides of electoral politics is its own anti-establishment identity, which values independence and abhors categorization. When Free Speech TV recently asked Ralph Nader the difficulties of forming an independent party, he said, “Independent voters are notoriously independent. They don’t like to organize themselves. It’s like herding cats.”

For the world of hip hop it’s not much different. In a third-storey flat overlooking Brooklyn, New York, Chad Bozeman, a 27-year-old MC and writer shared his qualms about formulating hip hop like a political party. Hip hop for him is about constant change; it’s about breaking expectations and denying homogeneity. “You take a little bit of jazz, a little bit of reggae, some funk beats, and constantly mix it all up,” he says. For many hip hop kids like Bozeman, there is an inherent wariness in establishing a set of rules and beliefs for people to abide by. But if hip hop activists and politicians can win over people like Bozeman, as well as come together to create a unified agenda, hip hop can really become a vehicle for political change.

With a network of blogs, websites and hundreds of thousands of foot soldiers organizing street-level concerts and events, hip hop has huge potential to educate and mobilize young people. But as it moves into the more ordered structure that is required for registering voters, creating platforms and endorsing candidates, the hip hop movement is facing new challenges and has found itself in a conflicted state.

Hip hop will get out the vote, that is assured. To what degree, however, is not yet clear. One thing is certain: We’ll know that the voices talking into the mic will be speaking some worthwhile shit for once.

Jared Jacang Maher is a Contributing Editor for Adbusters Magazine.

Categories
Uncategorized

Local News

Utility infielder
When it comes to local baseball, nobody pitches in more than Darrell Gardner

Charlottesville enjoyed a taste of spring sunshine on March 6 and 7, and, fittingly, the Lane Babe Ruth baseball league held its preseason tryouts that very weekend on Darrell Gardner Field at Lane Park on McIntire Road.

After the tryouts wrapped up on Sunday, 71-year-old Darrell Gardner—clad in a dusty black baseball cap promoting “The G Field at Lane Park”—parked a small lawn tractor near third base and hooked a rusty metal drag to the back. The tractor started with a sputter and Mr. G, as he’s known around the diamond, putt-putted toward second base at a painstakingly slow pace, the iron smoothing the dirt behind him.

In a town where many local sports venues bear the names of wealthy donors, Gardner’s investment in the local ballpark is measured in decades, not dollars.

“He eats, sleeps and drinks Lane League baseball,” says attorney Bruce Maxa, a local coach and longtime friend of Gardner’s. “He’s the backbone of the league. I guess that’s why they named the field after him.”

For 30 years, Gardner has coached, umpired, kept official statistics and belonged to the board of directors for the local Babe Ruth baseball league, for players ages 13-19. He is perhaps best known as the longtime groundskeeper who has overseen Lane Park’s evolution into one of the region’s best youth baseball fields. In 2001, the Lane Babe Ruth Board of Directors voted to name the field—which is owned by Albemarle County but maintained by the league—in Gardner’s honor.

“The board must have had a mental lapse when they did that,” chuckles Gardner, a lifetime baseball fan who “bawls like a baby” every time he watches Field of Dreams. “Having a farmer’s background, I like working with the grounds,” Gardner says.

Gardner is the first to admit he’s had some help making the field what it is. In the early ’90s, the league added grass to the infield. Later in the decade, local Boy Scouts renovated the bleachers, bathrooms and scorekeeper’s booth. And, in 2002, the league added a 25-foot fence along the McIntire Road side of the field to prevent home runs from hitting passing cars.

Jon-Mikel Whalen, who will play in the Lane League’s 14-15-year-old division this spring, calls Gardner “the father of the field.

“I played all around the state on a traveling team this summer,” says Whalen. Gardner Field, he says, “is definitely the nicest.”

Although Gardner has spent the past 53 years in Charlottesville—where Major League loyalties seem split between Baltimore and Atlanta—the Illinois native remains a staunch St. Louis Cardinals fan.

“I used to hitchhike down to old Sportsman’s Park,” says Gardner, who keeps the left fielder’s glove he used in high school tacked to the wall in the scorekeeper’s booth, which serves as a display case for Gardner’s baseball memorabilia.

After a stint in the Army that sent him to Korea, Gardner returned to Virginia to attend Richmond Professional Institute (now Virginia Commonwealth University). In 1960, he began a 22-year career teaching marketing education to Albemarle High School students. As his three sons went through the local Babe Ruth League, Gardner discovered that hanging with kids on the diamond could be a lot more fun than doing it in the classroom.

“He would always ask us about the field. He would ask ‘How’s the mound? Does it need to be wider? Taller?’” recalls Larry Mitchell, a former Lane Leaguer who pitched for the Philadelphia Phillies from 1992 to 1997 before returning to coach baseball at Charlottesville High School.

“What comes to my mind is [Gardner] out on that tractor cutting grass on hot sunny days,” says Mitchell. “He’s a tireless worker. He’s definitely trying to build the field of dreams on a daily basis.”

For both farmers and ballplayers, spring is a time for sowing seeds. As the teenage players work out their arms and practice their swings in hopes of reaping victory this summer, Gardner tends the park as his gift to the future.

“I want to make this the best field I can for the kids,” he says.—John Borgmeyer

 

Bypass, what bypass?
Lynchburg has road worries of its own

Like most Virginians, Lynchburg residents get worked up over roads. However, the stretch of pavement that most rankles ’burg residents might not be the proposed U.S. 29 Western Bypass around Charlottesville, which has agitated lawmakers in Richmond of late, but the bypass currently being built in Madison Heights, a Lynchburg suburb.

When asked about the Charlottesville bypass debate, Dorie Smiley, who was strolling down Main Street in Lynchburg on a recent morning, quickly switches gears to gripe about the Madison Heights construction, which she says has created “impossible” traffic problems. Smiley has heard about the fuss over a Charlottesville bypass, but admits she knows little about the dispute, “other than that it’s taken 100 years.”

The battle over a stalled plan for a western bypass around Charlottesville is an old one, dating back about 17 years. The latest volley in the General Assembly last week resulted in a relatively toothless bill in support of the bypass. But the road war between Lynchburg and Charlottesville goes back further than 17 years, to an old spurning of the southern neighbor.

“It’s not so much about Charlottesville as it is that we’ve been bypassed, so to speak,” says Darrell Laurant, a longtime columnist for The News & Advance in Lynchburg, of resentment stemming from the 1961 decision to run I-64 through Charlottesville instead of Lynchburg. The State had endorsed the Lynchburg route, but was overruled by the Feds. Smiley and others cite a legend, popular in Lynchburg, that Charlottesville may have exploited a local resident’s connections with President John F. Kennedy to snag I-64.

Regardless of whether Lynchburg was cheated out of I-64, Laurant says some locals still carry a grudge about the decision. He jokingly says that all of the town’s woes are blamed on the lack of an interstate.

Lynchburg, a city of 65,000, certainly has its share of problems. According to Mayor Carl B. Hutcherson Jr., the city faces a budget gap of “unprecedented proportions.” Hutcherson supports the building of a bypass around Charlottesville, saying it “would enhance transportation all the way down the corridor” from Washington, D.C. to North Carolina. However, Hutcherson, who spent some time at UVA and whose daughter went to the University, says the money crunch and several local construction projects, including the local bypass, have surpassed the Charlottesville road on his list of priorities.

“We’ve had so many other issues that we’ve had to deal with,” Hutcherson says. “We’re looking at our own transportation. We’ve got to concentrate on that.”

But across town, in the office of the Lynchburg Chamber of Commerce, fighting for a bypass around Charlottesville is Job One. Rex Hammond, the chamber president, calls U.S. 29 “the lifeblood of our community” and says the manufacturing town depends on truck traffic, tourists and salespeople that travel on the road.

“These groups are not being served by being forced through a bottleneck,” Hammond says of the string of traffic lights along the road in Albemarle County.

Hammond’s main beef with Charlottesville’s leaders is that he claims they are pulling out of a longstanding agreement among several localities to build bypasses along U.S. 29. Hammond says he understands that the “political undercurrents” are different in Charlottesville than they are in Lynchburg. But though he says it’s prudent for Charlottesville’s leaders to listen to the “pro-environmentalist, anti-growth voices” that oppose the Western Bypass, he thinks it’s wrong “to have progress stymied by these opponents.”

The Lynchburg media has covered the Charlottesville bypass debate, and many local residents there are aware of the issue. But the mayor laughs at the question of whether people are stewing with anger at Charlottesville. As columnist Laurant sees it, if Lynchburg residents reflect on Charlottesville at all, they might think only that the neighbor to the northeast is expensive and perhaps a little liberal.

“We don’t even pay that much attention to Roanoke,” Laurant says. (Roanoke is about 55 miles east of Lynchburg.)

In a worst-case scenario, Laurant says, people sometimes lump Charlottesville in with Northern Virginia.

Angie, 45, of Lynchburg, calls the bottleneck in Charlottesville “a pain in the butt.

“It’s almost like being in Washington, D.C.—that one spot,” Angie says, adding, “Charlottesville’s screwy. You get lost there.”

But Angie, whose daughter attended Virginia Polytechnic Institute and who would not give a reporter her surname, may harbor resentments that go beyond bypass brawls. The schism over college allegiances is a common one in Lynchburg, with Laurant claiming that the town is split evenly between Hoo and Hokie fans. If you lean toward Tech in Lynchburg, perhaps you’re simply inclined to dislike that college town up north.—Paul Fain

 

Choice across party lines
Midwifery, it seems, is a reproductive issue many can agree on

I can legally have a baby at home by myself, but it’s illegal to have a skilled professional assist me,” says Charlottesville mother Julia Weissman, who had her boys, Jonah and Tim, at home. “Does that make sense?”

Not legal, yet not prosecuted, home midwifery is underground in Virginia. But new light is being shed on its practice, due to bi-partisan support of an issue that traditionally divides legislators: a woman’s reproductive rights.

“Birth is part of the reproductive process,” says Delegate Phil Hamilton, R-93rd District, chair of Virginia’s House Health, Welfare & Institutions Committee. “If women have the right to abort, what about the right to birth?…A woman ought to have the right to choose the birthing method she wants.”

Earlier this year, Hamilton co-sponsored H.B. 581, a bill to legalize midwifery in Virginia and allow certified professional midwives to perform out-of-hospital births, as is done in all but seven states.

Interestingly, Hamilton and co-sponsor Delegate Allen Dudley, R-9th District, both Republicans, are endorsed by the Virginia Society for Human Life (VSHL), a pro-life lobby. The bill’s third sponsor was Adam Ebbin, a Democrat from the 49th District endorsed by the National Organization for Women, a pro-choice PAC.

“It’s not political,” says Hamilton of the unexpected alliance. “It’s a policy issue.”

According to state records, in 2002 there were 404 home births in Virginia. Legislators were facing an empirical reality. “People finally got the message that there were more and more of these births occurring,” says Hamilton.

In committee, Delegate Rob Bell, a Republican who represents Albemarle and whose sister was born at home, laments midwives’ current legal limbo. “The current legal structure is the worst of both worlds We should license it or outlaw it,” Bell wrote in an e-mail, adding that he favors the former. “If a woman wants to home birth, we should set up a system so she can do it.” Delegate Mitch Van Yahres, a Democrat from Charlottesville, agrees, as do many constituents in Charlottesville, which had 30 home births last year. Van Yahres says, “This issue generates more e-mail than anything else.”

The House passed H.B. 581 by a vote of 91-9. However, it was subsequently killed in the Senate Committee on Education and Health by a vote of 10-5.

What stopped the bill? “The medical lobby,” Hamilton figures. Among the “nays” was Senator Russel Potts Jr., R-27th District, chair of the Senate Committee, who received more than $50,000 in contributions from the Virginia Medical Society and the Virginia Hospital & Healthcare Association PAC.

The bill’s detractors largely follow the position of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG), that childbirth presents hazards that can only be addressed by a hospital setting. In 2002, ACOG reported that the risk of death to infants delivered at home is nearly twice that of newborns delivered in hospitals.

Midwifery advocates cite major flaws in ACOG’s report, noting a previous study using virtually identical data that found no difference in outcome between home and hospital birth.

“It’s a draw,” says Jen Downey, a Charlottesville mother who gave birth to her daughter Lil at home, and testified in Richmond in support of the bill. “Anyone who looks at the data cannot help but accept that they appear to be on par.”

Coincidentally, ACOG is supportive of a woman’s right to birth choice—when it comes to cesareans. In a recent statement, ACOG disregarded evidence that c-sections lead to more complications, and suggested that doctors cannot ethically deny a woman an elective cesarean. But, by the same token, can they, or the State, ethically deny them a midwife?

“You get this feeling that everyone’s saying, ‘We can’t let these poor mothers make decisions for themselves,’“ says Weissman.—Brian Wimer

 

Turning the Page
New owner saves Batesville’s general store

For Realtor Norm Jenkins, it was more than a store. Sure, Page’s Store in Batesville was the town’s single outlet for grabbing a quick snack or beer. But as Jenkins and the rest of the town knew, as the last business in town Page’s also literally defined Batesville—and if someone didn’t buy the property soon the town would lose its identity. So with no other good options in sight, he bought it himself.

As C-VILLE reported last year [“Batesville RFD,” Fishbowl, May 6, 2003], the clock was ticking for Page’s Store. In 2001, the general store/post office, originally opened in 1914, closed shop. As the two-year vacancy mark approached last year, so did the impending loss of its grandfather clause exception to rural area zoning laws. If no commercial entity moved in it would revert to residential zoning, and Batesville would lose its own ZIP code and identity, like so many other hamlets before it.

The town’s response was informal and off the record, but residents yearned for the store to reopen as rumors floated about its next incarnation, everything from new housing to a recording studio.

The ideas just didn’t sing to many, especially not Jenkins. A resident of nearby Afton, who at one time lived in Batesville, Jenkins was disenchanted with the proposed transformation of the town center. So in January he bought the building for $200,000. Now, with help from Charlie Page, who ran his family’s former store from 1970 to 1994, he’s revamping its interior and stocking its counter with such modern delights as deli sandwiches and Greenberry’s coffee. As he prepares for the March 20 reopening, surrounded by new wood and old furnishings, Jenkins wants to make sure nothing gets lost along the way.

“Page’s has always been the place where, at the end of the day, people stop by to pick up a few things and catch up,” he says. While it may have been the only place within five miles to grab a quart of milk, the little market where neighbors said hello also served to remind people they were living in a community that isn’t defined solely by its conveniences.

Yet Jenkins knows that without those conveniences the center would not hold, but move outward, leaving Batesville less intact and self-sufficient than it was decades ago when it counted five stores among its businesses.

“It was my love for the store,” says Jenkins of his decision to cheat the clause and keep Page’s alive. “My love for Batesville.”—Sheila Pell