Month: May 2006

In the second season premiere of “My Life on the D-List” (Tuesday, June 6, 9pm, Bravo), comedienne Kathy Griffin, fresh from playing the Paramount, spends a substantial amount of time tooling around Charlottesville—and the resulting footage is not pretty (just take a glance at the adjoining sidebar, and recoil at our rube-itude). But, in classic Griffin fashion, she reserves the most painful moments for herself, showcasing not one, but two incidents of soul-shattering humiliation. In the first, the proclamation ceremony for Kathy Griffin Day in Louis-ville, Kentucky, is attended by literally 10 people—nine of whom work in City Hall. In the second, she is delighted when the charity auction she set up on eBay tops $20,000, only to discover that most of the bids are fakes. “This wouldn’t happen to Nicole Kidman,” she says, devastated.
    Well, that’s because Nicole Kidman is a legitimate celebrity. And Kathy Griffin is something else entirely. While she’s built a sizeable Hollywood resumé, it’s not exactly filled with top-tier material. Best known as the sassy sidekick on the late Brooke Shields laffer  “Suddenly Susan,” the girl’s career has since been stuck somewhere between laughable and nonexistent: She’s the kind of actor who manages to score a role in Pulp Fiction, but absolutely nobody notices. Despite the 52 projects listed under her name on the Internet Movie Database, nothing can change the fact that Kathy Griffin is not a star. Kathy Griffin will never be a star. Kathy Griffin is simply an ordinary person with an almost pathological lust for fame who somehow clawed her way into Hollywood and landed some third-tier gigs out of sheer force of will.
    But here’s the thing: Kathy Griffin freely acknowledges this. And that is why we should embrace her.
    There is nothing particularly remarkable about Kathy Griffin. You know a Kathy Griffin. You went to high school with a Kathy Griffin. She’s that kind-of-plain girl who was really funny, and so eventually got invited to sit at the cool kids’ table, but was also smart enough to see through their BS, and would come to your sleepovers and talk shit about them behind their backs.
    This sort of ladder-climbing, super-bitchy backstabbing is Griffin’s bread and butter, and remains her major contribution to America’s pop culture landscape. She has managed to infiltrate the elusive Club Fame that we all, admittedly or not, want to be a part of, and she gleefully lifts the curtain to show us just how stupid and/or crazy its den-izens really are. Consider her mind- blowing account of her stint on “Hollywood Squares,” where she watched Little Richard berate Anna Nicole Smith backstage be-cause he actually thought her tiny dog was the puppet Triumph the Insult Comic Dog (who had been harassing the rock ‘n’ roll legend during the taping). Or her dead-on analysis of why “America’s Next Top Model” host Tyra Banks switches from Snotty Bitch Tyra to Ghetto Tyra during the judging in order to score street cred.        
    Now, lots of folks make fun of celebrities. (The male version of Kathy Griffin, David Spade, has made quite a career out of it, to name just one.) And yet, at the same time, the vast majority of us can’t resist thumbing through Us Weekly in the checkout line, and some of us have even been known to get into office screaming matches about who’s more sympathetic, Angelina or Jennifer. (By the way, if you side with Jennifer, you are a loser.) We just act like we’re above it all. What sets Griffin apart is that she never acts like she’s above it. She’s completely, totally self-aware that, even as she tears down the Miracle-Tanned tower of celebrity, she is desperate to be sitting atop it. She’s just too damn cool to pretend that she’s too cool for school.
    I’ll bet Nicole Kidman could never say that.

Kathy does C’ville

Five great local moments captured on Griffin’s
“My Life on the D List”

5. Griffin and her husband, Matt, do a “surprise” visit at the home of a Charlottesville fan named Prakash, who suffers from rheumatoid arthritis. (Griffin’s rationale: “Because I’m a giver…and also to get some free press.”) After a brief meet-and-greet, she and Matt leave, and joke in the limo about how Prakash was totally faking it in order to scam a visit. Griffin vows to do the same with her mother to get some face time with Debbie Reynolds.

4. Nattily dressed WCAV general assignment reporter Phillip Stewart accompanies Griffin on her arthritic fan visit. Following his pre-interview, Stewart—referred to as “D-List reporter” by the editors, and who are we to argue?—gives a disposable camera to his cameraman and asks for a picture with Griffin, explaining that he’s a “huge fan of the show, [and] trying to remain as professional as possible.” Not so much on that last part there, Phil.

3. Charlottesville Police Chief Tim Longo greets Griffin when she arrives at the Boar’s Head Inn. Longo identifies himself as a “huge fan,” gives her flowers (!) and then informs her that the police will escort her to her show at the Paramount. (Was there really nothing better for the chief of police to do than lead a stand-up comic around town that night?) In any event, Griffin is sure that the chief is in love with her, and tells husband, Matt, to prepare for a night of swinging with the Longos. Longo then shows up for the escort looking fine in his civvies, blue jeans and a white, untucked button-down shirt. Ladies and gentlemen, last call for boarding the dreamboat…

2. After the show, Paramount impresario Chad Hershner informs Griffin that, “I have a group of about 20 gay guys who have stayed to see you…” Charming.
 
1. Dr. John Hong (who is, at the very least, among the 20 gay guys Hershner alluded to) pays Griffin a backstage visit. The moment he crosses the threshold into the D-lister’s dressing room, the internist/ medical columnist/ice dancer ceases to be a human being and, for the next five minutes, more closely resembles a cartoon caricature of a human being. Seriously, it’s like Griffin is acting in Who Framed Roger Rabbit? as Hong literally hops around the room just squealing with excitement that he’s getting to meet this woman, the tertiary lead on “Suddenly Susan.” He tells her she is his favorite comedienne of all time, is “so hot” and “so sexy, baby.” The viewer ponders what might happen should he meet, say, Nicole Kidman, but quickly forgets all that once he starts inquiring about her gynecological health and busts out what I would propose to be Charlottes-ville’s new tourism slogan: “If you ever need a Pap, come over here to Charlottes-ville. Dr. Hong.” Can’t you just see the billboards?—E.R.

Last week UVA entered the ACC baseball tournament ranked No. 5 in the nation, capping UVA’s best season in years. UVA finished the regular season with a 46-11 record (21-9 in the ACC) and the team hopes to appear in the College World Series to be held next month in Omaha.
Observers credit UVA’s ascendency to head coach Brian O’Connor, who inherited a mediocre team with a 29-25 record when he took over in 2004. “He’s brought life back to the program,” says Todd Proctor, a local strength coach and baseball instructor. “He gets the guys functioning as a unit. He has a program the guys are buying into. It’s really exciting to see the program take off like this.”—John Borgmeyer, with reporting by Will Goldsmith

The 17 students who took over UVA’s Madison Hall for four days in April are off the hook on their trespassing charges. On Monday, May 23, Judge Robert Downer in Charlottesville General District Court dismissed the charges against all the students. He said that because UVA Chief Financial Officer Leonard Sandridge had told the students that they had five minutes to vacate the building, and yet UVA police began arresting students before that five minutes was up, that the case had to be dismissed on lack of grounds. The judge also said that the University had been sending mixed messages to the students, by agreeing to have a dialogue with them, then having them arrested.
University spokeswoman Carol Wood told C-VILLE that UVA is “totally fine” with Downer’s ruling. “I don’t want to respond to what the judge said. It is out there and he has delivered a clear statement on the case,” Wood said. “There shouldn’t be an adversarial role between the students and the University,” she added. “The door continues to be open.”
In a separate case, UVA anthropology professor Wende Marshall was found guilty of trespassing because the judge said that she had been told specifically that she could not go in Madison Hall.—Nell Boeschenstein

As summer approaches, City and County officials are supposed to be coming up with a coordinated drought-management plan that will set usage restrictions in case of a water shortage. They haven’t gotten the job done, but recent rains have eased fears of a summertime drought.
So far, slightly more than nine inches of rain have fallen on Central Virginia in 2006. That’s far below the 17.6 inches meteorologists say is normal for this time of year. Yet in a report to the Rivanna Water and Sewer Authority board of directors last week, RWSA Director Thomas Frederick said local officials are off the hook—for now. Stream flows are still abnormally low, but the area’s four reservoirs are full, said Frederick. “We don’t need action from elected officials in the month of June,” he said. “We’ll keep watching the situation and advise accordingly.”
In his report, Frederick said he hopes that local officials will agree on a drought-management plan soon, because a dry summer could still leave us thirsty this fall.
It’s been nearly four years since the Drought of 2002, when critics questioned the effectiveness of water restrictions that seemed more symbolic than practical (such as closing commercial car washes, even though they account for a small fraction of the city’s total water use). For now, the official drought-management plan is easy to follow: Pray for rain.—John Borgmeyer

RWSA Director Thomas Frederick says recent rain has spared us from a drought, for now, but he’s encouraging City and County officials to agree on a drought-management strategy. Hey, give ’em a break, Tom—it’s only been four years since the last drought.

The Charlottesville Housing Authority will soon take its first foray into the housing market by
building about 30 new homes on this site on Levy Avenue near Belmont.

After years of tumult, the Charlottesville Redevelopment and Housing Authority seems to be stable and moving toward some long-stalled projects.
Last summer, the City hired Noah Schwartz, formerly director of the anti-poverty Monticello Area Community Action Agency, to lead the Housing Authority. Sources inside the Housing Authority say the beleaguered agency, which manages Charlottesville’s 376 public housing units, finally has a director with strong local ties capable of getting things done amidst the Authority’s notoriously cantankerous political environment.
One of the first major projects for the Housing Authority is construction of new housing units on a parking lot on Levy Avenue near Belmont. It would be the CHRA’s first foray into the construction of market-rate housing. Former Director Paul Chedda tried to implement the Levy project in previous years, but it fell by the wayside as he fell into conflict with the CHRA board of directors.
In July, the Authority expects to send out a request for proposals for architectural designs for about 30 units on the site, with at least half available for purchase by low-income families (perhaps including some of the Authority’s current tenants, says Schwartz). All the homes would be sold at market rate, with grants or a local housing trust fund helping subsidize mortgagees for low-income buyers. (It will have to be a hefty sum—Schwartz says the average annual income of a public housing tenant in Charlottesville is $11,000).
Further on the horizon for the CHRA will be renovation of Westhaven, the City’s oldest and largest public housing site. The CHRA estimates the Hardy Drive neighborhood needs at least $10 million in repairs, and Schwartz confirms that City officials hope to partner with one or more of the big developers who own land around that site (they include Coran Capshaw and Bill Atwood) on a major redevelopment project at Westhaven. Nothing has been decided, however, and nothing will happen at Westhaven until the Housing Authority conducts community meetings to get input from residents, says CHRA board member and City Councilor Kendra Hamilton.—John Borgmeyer

Six months ago, in our “2006 Development Forecast,” C-VILLE reported not on how Charlottesville and Albemarle have already changed, but on how our home was going to change. Hours spent adding up rows and rows of numbers from the City and County’s planning offices yielded startling totals: a potential for 18,725 new residential units and 6,235,451 more square feet of commercial space on the way in the next decade or so. Those numbers got us thinking about what we stand to lose—green vistas, sleepy Main Streets, convenience stores, parkland—to make way for the newer, bigger and (we’re told) better buildings ahead. This piece on Crozet kicks off an occasional series, “Places We’ll Lose.” Ten years from now, someone might look back at these accounts to find the answer to that much-asked, rarely answered question, posed by residents of rapidly developing towns everywhere: “What used to be there?”

Crozet is a one-stoplight town, and that one stoplight is always green. There are four stop signs at the intersection of Three Notch’d Road and Crozet Avenue, but even in rush-hour traffic the back-up is never more than four or five cars deep.
    On a recent perfect evening, the sky is blue, and no, there’s not a cloud in the sky. The late sun shines down from the west onto the main drag, Crozet Avenue, with that certain slant of light that makes the entire town feel like a dollhouse. The occasional car drives the speed limit through downtown: past the charmingly rickety Crozet Pizza, then right at the intersection, past the hardware store and ramshackle bar on the left, and the white-washed post office, church and Mountainside Senior Living facility on the right.
    Mountainside dwarfs everything. Its 25 balconies are strewn with a selection of plastic lawn furniture. A solitary elderly gentleman enjoys the sun on the second floor. He’s not reading or talking on the phone; he’s just sitting, head back, eyes closed, lazy as a cat. Merengue music wafts toward him from the speakers of a nearby restaurant.
    Just beyond this cluster of commerce, life is pure country. Someone has set up a volleyball net, the middle of which sags nearly to the ground. Aside from that, it’s all tall grasses and patches of dusty red dirt. This, every sign seems to say, is the stuff of a Thornton Wilder play.
    Yet this strip of romantic small-town scenery is scheduled for a facelift. As per the Crozet Master Plan that was passed by the Board of Supervisors in late 2004—a grand vision for the town’s growth that rethinks Crozet’s roads, town center, and overall scale—the County bought an acre of land in downtown Crozet last March. It is intended to provide the canvas for the town’s redesigned center: new roads, improved roads, sidewalks. In addition, a new library, park and civic center are also in the plans. Add a 2,000-home development that’s on the way, and 10 years from now Crozet will be a distant, suburban cousin of the charming country mouse it is today.

Across from Mountain-side, at the corner bar that marks the epicenter of town, the Yankees play the Red Sox on two flat-screen TVs. It’s that awkward hour between dinner and late night, so the bar is nearly deserted, giving it the aura of a lonely Wild West saloon. Crowded together at one end, however, a quartet of carpenters named Ricky, Spider, Mr. Handsome and Mr. Famous (for reasons that soon become clear) are bellied up to their beers after a 14-hour day working construction on Noah’s Ark.
    The guys are covered in cedar dust from the huge beached boat they’ve been building here since January for a Hollywood movie filming just down the road. Since their first week on the job, the foursome has only missed two nights of after-work brews: the day they worked 16 hours straight, and the day they worked 20. Like a uniform, they sport 5 o’clock shadows and baseball hats.
    The 5-year-old daughter of Mr. Hand-some’s Crozet girlfriend gave both Mr. Handsome and Mr. Famous their nicknames. Mr. Handsome for all of the obvious reasons; Mr. Famous because he always hides behind a pair of sports sunglasses.
    Spider shrugs when asked about the provenance of his moniker. “I don’t know…” he trails off. He’s the quiet one.
    “You should tell her about Danger! Or Skidmarks! Or Dangler! Or Muffin!” guffaws Rick. “We all got nicknames.” They crack up as the highlights of some gruesome (yet ultimately nonfatal) tales of construction accidents get recounted. Saws are involved in one case. Dangling precariously by a rope in another.
    When asked, Mr. Famous gets serious for a moment.
    “I love Crozet,” he says. “If I could put a bubble around this place, I would. But it’s too late. The money’s been spent. Plans have been passed. People are coming, man. You say Crozet? I say Nozet!”
    “Yeah, that side of town,” Rick chimes in, waving his hand in the direction of the ark they’ve been building, “it’s going to blow up.” He makes an explosion sound like a little boy, pantomiming a mushroom cloud with his hands.
    The men all hail from the Baltimore area, and the conversation soon turns to Rick’s Maryland hometown, which went from being a backwater pile of dirt to an endless forest of track housing in the space of three years. They shake their heads, sip their beers, puff on their menthols.
    “It was just wrong,” says Rick.
    Crozet (population, 3,600; area, 4.5 miles) awaits a similar fate. The town, founded as a whistle stop along the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad in 1876—and named for Napoleon’s bridge builder and colonial engineer, Claudius Crozet—can already smell that mushroom cloud forming on its horizon.
    Based on County estimates, sometime after 2024 Crozet’s population could, theoretically, reach 24,000. The County, however, is quick to add that the number will probably be closer to 12,000. Much of the housing needs of these future Crozetians will be filled by local developer Gaylon Beights. His Old Trail project is the looming development that will bring 2,000 new homes, 250,000 square feet of commercial space and a 250-acre golf course to the western outskirts of town, which is already packed with the track housing of the Western Ridge housing development. Despite the master plan, many worry that not enough is being done to keep the town on track for the impending rapid growth.
    A train passes somewhere outside.
    “Train!” yells Mr. Famous. Then he points, pleased as punch, to a chalkboard sign that says the first person who calls “train” each time one passes gets a free drink. Things are winding down, but the bartender gladly plunks down another pale ale in front of Mr. Famous. The guys have to be back at work in eight hours. Spider and Rick have gone home for the night. Mr. Handsome is nuzzling his girlfriend with a sleepy eye.
    These men fit in here. They may not be locals, but something about them says they’ve been here since time began. Yet, as I walk out the door, I can’t avoid the sense that the scene behind me is fading to black. I don’t come to Crozet very often. And so I know that the next time I drive through, I won’t recognize much: not the place, nor the men at the bar.