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Living News

Where is Gladys the emu? The beloved pet of an Albemarle couple is still missing

Today, the day after Thanksgiving, I am praying for Gladys the emu.

A lapsed Catholic, I haven’t been a churchgoer for years. But praying to St. Francis for the safe return of Gladys, for her reunion with her brother Floyd and sister Mabel at their home 10 miles south of Charlottesville, and for the peace of mind of their owners, just feels right.

On Sunday, November 10, Gladys and Mabel pulled a Thelma and Louise and bolted from their pen for a big adventure. It would have been nice if the protagonists stuck together like they did in the movie (though I would never wish such an ending for the birds). But after leaving Floyd, who elected to stay behind, each of the six-year-old females followed her own beak. Mabel trotted south toward Scottsville, Gladys east toward Walnut Creek Park. 

Photos of the birds appeared on social media for days after their November 10 escape. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart

We know this because the birds are large, about 100 pounds and six feet tall (only ostriches are taller), and they have very long legs that can carry them to speeds of 30mph or more. It’s not every day, meaning never, that you see such an animal hotfooting it in the bicycle lane or even right down the middle of a busy road. Emus on the run. Perfect online fodder. Snap a pic and post it. And a lot of people did.

Millie Cathcart, 55, a retired nurse who owns the emus with her husband, Rip, 62, a residential real estate developer, was the first person to turn to social media. She posted about the escapees on her personal Facebook page, and then, upon advice from friends and members of the social hive, she also placed notices on NextDoor and Charlottesville/Albemarle Lost & Found Pets, and contacted animal control and 911. The support from the official channels was uniformly sympathetic and professional. Millie felt encouraged by that, and also by most of the people who reached out on Facebook, NextDoor, and the lost pets site.

“The variety of responses has been really interesting to me,” Millie says. “Some people have been wonderful—keeping track, checking in, spreading the word. Then, there are others who are just plain mean, like, ‘Just kill them,’ ‘Hit them with a car,’ and ‘The meat tastes good.’ Some people are just horrible.”

Rip Cathcart with one of his beloved emus. He and his wife are hoping for the safe return of Gladys, who bolted from the Cathcart’s pen on November 10. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart

Around Thanksgiving, when many large birds go in the oven, the comment about the flavor of emu meat struck Millie as particularly grotesque. These were her and Rip’s pets, not dinner in waiting. But emus—why emus?

 “My husband has a menagerie of birds, turkeys, peacocks, pheasants, guineas, chickens, doves, etc.,” Millie says. “Several years ago we had an increase in predators coming over the fence into our bird yard, and we heard that emus could help. If there is something going on, they run over to see what it is. They have greatly reduced predators coming by for lunch or dinner.”

This all started six years ago, when Millie and Rip picked up the birds—they were just fuzzy babies then—from a farm in northern Virginia, and ferried them in the back of Millie’s van to their new home. “Floyd, Mabel and Gladys have been with us ever since, and have a sweet love affair with my husband,” Millie wrote.

But emus are also curious. The Cathcarts noticed not long ago that the birds were attracted to the latch and lock on the gate to their pen. They pecked at the lock, flicked it with their beaks. “It made a clunking sound that probably made them happy,” Millie says.

But then November 10 arrived. It was a blustery day. “I’m sure they were flicking at the lock—plink, plink—and the latch opened, and the wind blew, the gate opened, and they were gone,” she says.

They, a part of the family, were gone.

Floyd and Gladys hang out in their pen while Red stands, er, sits by. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart

The Cathcarts have three kids. The eldest daughter lives in Los Angeles and hopes to get into the music business. Their other daughter is a third-year student at Auburn University, and their son, a recent graduate from the University of Alabama, Auburn’s rival. On Saturday, the Cathcarts will attend the big game, known as The Iron Bowl. It’ll be exciting, for sure, but the family joy will be mixed with a sense of dread: Where’s Gladys?

It was funny a few years ago when the kids were younger and would toss the football around with friends. The emus joined in, following the ball as it flew through the air and charging with their lanky legs and long neck directly at the intended receiver. Emus are amusingly odd-looking standing still. But when they run, they are hilarious. When they change direction, they first point their head where they want to go, and then their body follows. The Cathcart kids would laugh, because they knew that the charging birds would turn away at the last second. But their friends were frightened. One hundred pounds of flesh and feathers hurtling toward you at great speed? Some of the kids ran to hide behind trees.

Finding Mabel

Millie and Rip came close to catching Mabel one day in Scottsville. They had been driving around after learning of a sighting, and they were ready to nab her.

Andy, shown here with Mabel immediately after he’d captured her, was hunting with his father, Wayne, when they saw the wayward bird—in Schuyler, about 15 miles from her home. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart

“We had our buckets of sunflower seeds to lure her,” Millie says. “And we had a tarp, duct tape, rope, and a pillowcase to put over her head. If you were going to kidnap somebody, this is what you would have in your car.”

They drove down by the railroad tracks near the boat landing in Scottsville, and two women out walking said they had seen the bird and pointed Millie and Rip in the right direction. Mabel was standing in the woods on the other side of the railroad tracks. The couple got out of the car with their kidnapping supplies. They heard a train coming. A minute later it trundled by. After the train was gone, Mabel was, too.

So close. Their hearts sank.

Finally, on November 22, a call came in from a family in Schuyler. A father and son, Wayne and Andy, had been hunting not far from their home when they saw Mabel. They could not identify her as an emu, and you can’t blame them. Emus are as prevalent in Schuyler as flying monkeys. The Cathcarts raced down and were greeted by Wayne, his wife, Robin, and their son, Andy. His sister, Jasmine, was at work in Charlottesville at the time. When her family called to bring her into the loop, she instantly knew what was going on—she had seen the social media posts. She connected with Millie and Rip via cell, and kept them updated while they motored to Schuyler.

Millie, sounding a bit emotional now: “When those wonderful people down in Schuyler called, and we knew Mabel was in their backyard…. Wayne and Andy were hunting. They said, ‘This is not what we expected to see!’”

Wayne snapped and texted Andy a photo of the animal.

“Andy was in his tree stand about 100 yards away from Mabel, but he had just had eye surgery and couldn’t see the image on his phone very well, and he didn’t have his glasses, so he thought it was a bear.”

Bear, emu, deer, donkey—who cares? The important thing is that they didn’t shoot it. Jasmine went online. She and her mom remembered something about an emu on the loose, and the animal in the texted photograph was the one they were looking at online.

When Millie and Rip arrived, they switched into rescue mode. “Wayne and Andy totally bought into helping us with the situation, which we really appreciated, because it would have been really difficult to catch her without them,” Millie says.

Counter to what one would expect, emus can be very calm in a situation like this. Mable stood still while Andy slipped a rope around her neck. “An emu’s attitude is very confident,” Millie says. “Wayne and Andy were amazed that they could just secure Mabel in this way. There’s a picture of Andy in the woods, with a rope around Mabel’s neck, and he’s just beaming.”

After some wrangling and duct-taping and tying up, Mabel was spirited into the back of Millie and Rip’s vehicle. “It could have been just horrible but she was very cooperative,” Mille says. “I think she was just happy to be saved.”

Apparently, she was also happy when she got home. “We cut everything off of her and then stood back, and she just popped up,” Millie says.

Floyd strutted over to his sister. If they were humans you might expect them to hug or something. But Mabel just walked past Floyd and eventually found a place to lie down. “She was hungry and she was tired and she was a little beat up from being dragged through the woods,” Millie says. “She hunkered down and laid low for a couple of days. We were a little worried about her, but she’s fine now.”

Tomorrow, Millie and Rip will go to the football game down in Auburn. If Gladys isn’t discovered by then, she will have been on the loose for 20 days. “There’s really nothing more that we can do than really just hope someone comes across her and notifies us,” Millie says.

Rip told Millie that with winter coming in, his hope was fading. But there’s still a flicker. “If she would come walking home, that would make us really happy,” Millie says. “If she never showed up that would be—well, I’m just trying not to think about that.”

Instead, Millie thinks about how fortunate it is to have Mabel back together with Floyd. “Who knows?” she muses. “Maybe she’ll lay some eggs and they’ll have babies.”

So now, in addition to my imploring St. Francis for Gladys’ safe return, I’ll also humbly ask for Mabel and Floyd to give the Cathcarts another big bird or two. 

If you see Gladys, the Cathcarts ask that you post on the Charlottesville/Albemarle Lost & Found Pets Facebook page: bit.ly/finding-gladys

Categories
Arts

Together apart: Marriage Story works through tears and humor

Though Noah Baumbach’s Marriage Story openly invites comments on the irony of the title—this is, after all, a movie about divorce—it’s in their separation that Nicole and Charlie Barber (Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver) see one another for who they are, as opposed to who they’d become while married. The life they built together was full of creativity, financial success, and critical acclaim. They have a wonderful son. Is it tragic that a marriage like this ended in divorce? Or is the tragedy that building this life led to buried resentment, unspoken frustrations, and uneven power dynamics, and that the most logical thing to do—go their separate ways—comes at such a steep emotional, financial, and legal cost? Or is the struggle to divorce entirely justified, and we should accept the pain inflicted as a natural part of the human experience?

Funny and frustrating (in a great way), Marriage Story paves the way for a mature discussion on the subject of divorce. Nicole and Charlie live in New York as part of a successful theater company: He writes and directs, she acts, and together they win awards and adoration. Nicole, however, feels she has always lived in his shadow, as a supporting player in what is ultimately his story. She left a burgeoning movie career and her roots in Los Angeles for the New York stage, and wants to reclaim her success. Charlie, meanwhile, feels blindsided by her complaints, and wants to continue with his career and maintain their home in New York.

Everything is cordial, if tense, at first. It’s when the facts of living a bicoastal life with a child emerge that the rocky road to divorce reveals itself, even if the idea is amicable. As the bureaucratic and spiritual difficulties arise, they have to confront one another, and have the conversations they’ve been avoiding. How do you tell someone how hurt and rejected you feel by them without insulting them? How do you lay claim to part of their life that you feel you’ve earned without ruining them? And should those concerns stop you in the first place?

Baumbach’s film challenges us to reexamine how we think about relationships and how they end, dispensing with the notion that someone has to be right or wrong for a marriage to come apart. There are many rights and countless wrongs, all of which deserve the light of day. As Nicole and Charlie’s lawyers (Laura Dern and Ray Liotta, who steal every scene) bicker on their clients’ behalf, they hear their feelings put into words in a way they would never have said, but left to their own devices their truth would have gone unspoken.

This review has focused on the emotional maturity of Marriage Story, but the movie’s not just one big dissertation on divorce law. It boasts an exceptional lead and supporting cast, excellent dialogue, and a rich sense of humor. Like the film’s characters, you won’t know whether to laugh or cry, and will frequently do both.

Marriage Story / R, 136 minutes / Violet Crown Cinema

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 375 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056, drafthouse.com/charlottesville z Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213. regmovies.com z Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000, charlottesville.violetcrown.com z Check theater websites for listings.

SEE IT AGAIN

Remember the Night NR, 91 minutes / Alamo Drafthouse Cinema December 1

Categories
Arts

Change agents: Beatrix Ost retrospective warns of a dystopian future

Walking into Beatrix Ost’s “Illuminations & Illusions,” now on view at Second Street Gallery, I was immediately reminded of Hieronymus Bosch’s famous triptych “The Garden of Earthly Delights.” It wasn’t one particular painting that suggested this, but rather the cumulative effect of all the work. Like Bosch, Ost creates complicated, often fantastical tableaux of people, animals, and plants that are larded with enigmatic symbolism. And Ost’s work also serves as a warning, except here the impending doom is not eternal damnation, but cataclysmic climate change. And in both cases, the artist’s message is clear: We are the agents of our own doom.

The work, which dates from the 1970s to the present, reveals that nature, and our relationship to it, has been a longtime preoccupations of Ost’s. The earliest painting, “The Interpretation of Dreams” (right), a portrait of Sigmund Freud, reminds us quite emphatically that nature is ultimately in charge. In the painting, Freud reclines, gazing at the viewer with soulful, almost apologetic eyes. Trees sprout from his head, a gushing stream falls from his eyes, the folds of his clothing are topography. He is becoming nature, or being subsumed by it.

Ost wanted her show to be a multidimensional experience, and a lush score composed by Abel Okugawa fills the gallery space. There is also a faint smell of roses that subtly wafts through the air. “Firstly, you see,” says Ost. “Secondly, you think, then you hear something, and then, there is this smell. The roses are in nearly every painting. They are symbols of love and beauty, and they are to remind us that something is not okay.”

Talking about her process, Ost says, “When I start a painting, I paint very swiftly because in those first moments, it’s thoughts, not technique. Once I’ve got the thoughts down, I go back in and make it more refined.”

“The Hunter Haunted” from 1984 is a conventional- style portrait depicting a seated man dressed in the traditional tracht wear of a Bavar-ian hunter. All is normal from the neck down. But he sports the skull and antlers of his quarry. The gaping eye holes are blank—we don’t see the man within—it’s not a mask; he has become the stag. It’s a disturbing image that acts as a potent warning about the consequence of our actions.

A large painting with bathing figures, “Illuminations and Illusions” at first seems to depict a beachside idyll. But then we notice the water threatening to overtake the unaware bathers. Similarly, “The Edge of Our Silence” boasts an assortment of standing people oblivious to the water rising around them.

An apocalyptic vista of peaks rising above a glacier lake in “Omnivore’s Natural History” presents a bleak future. In the foreground, jagged trees appear dead or dying while fire, falling boulders, and melting ice mar the background. Looking closely, you notice clear indictments of society expressed through the woman huddling in the cave at the bottom of the painting. Her only possessions are her personal hashtag and a designer bag. And Ost herself isn’t exempt. The self-portrait in the phone screen at the end of the selfie stick implies her share of guilt. But her expression conveys unease and worry. She describes herself as “flabbergasted to be there and uncomprehending that we don’t see what is happening around us.”

“Nature Politely Declines—Metamorphosis of Order” is a stunning, richly hued painting. Within the confines of a painted gilt frame, birds flit among an assortment of eggs that seem to be sprouting from the tree’s scarlet branches. They have an anatomical feel, resembling veins within a human lung. At the center, a giant scarlet egg grabs our attention. Enriching the total effect is the ultramarine blue background. Beneath the frame, the tree trunk turns brown and the gorgeous blue looks slightly muddy. A human arm stretches out from beyond the edge of the picture plane proffering “help” in the form of a nest. Busy with a stalk, and not needing something it can make itself, the bird ignores the intervention. 

“You Stole My Future”

Ost’s sculpture has elegance and emotional poignancy. “HearSeeScream” is a riff on the famous Shinto monkeys, replacing the simian triad with three women. Carved from stout tree trunks, the figures have heads cast from bronze. “You Stole My Future” was created over two decades ago, but Ost saw Greta Thunberg in its plaintive face and re-titled it.

A second Ost show, on view at Chroma Projects, is a series of dynamic paintings on paper. “Beatrix Ost: Archaeology of the Omnivore—Paintings from the Garden Soil” are works literally of the landscape, using earth from Ost’s garden as pigment. Deborah McLeod, Chroma Projects director, also contributed an essay to the “Illuminations & Illusions” catalog.

The catalog includes a powerful lament by Ost that echoes in words what we see at Second Street Gallery. “Indifference slunk in undetected beneath an umbrella of the information age,” she states, touching on the biggest hurdle we face. Through work that is both a paean and a warning, Ost endeavors to cast away the indifference, reigniting awe in nature and an awareness of just where we are headed.


Updated Dec. 11, 5:57pm with the correct exhibition title, “Illuminations & Illusions.”

Categories
Opinion The Editor's Desk

This week, 11/27

Seven years after “Let it Go” earwormed its way into the minds of children everywhere, the eagerly awaited sequel to Disney’s hit movie Frozen has finally arrived. If you have young kids, you’ve probably already seen it, but if not, it makes for surprisingly resonant Thanksgiving-week viewing, especially here in Charlottesville.

In Frozen 2 (spoilers ahead!) royal sisters Elsa and Anna discover that 1) Their mother belonged to a local Native tribe, and 2) Said tribe was betrayed by their own (non-Native) grandfather, who, out of fear and greed, killed the tribal chief and attempted to destroy the tribe’s lands, through the building of a dam presented as a gift.

Upon learning this, Anna does not try to justify her family’s crimes by talking about how things were different back then, or that we can’t be blamed for the past. She doesn’t opine about how beautiful the dam is or how destroying it would be erasing history. Instead, she acknowledges that this past wrong must be righted, and risks her life to destroy the dam, even though it will flood Arendelle and wipe out her own home.

This is a Disney movie, of course, so in the end, Anna is unharmed and her act of righteousness saves her sister, who in turn saves Arendelle. In real life, doing what’s morally right often comes with much graver consequences.

Still, what a pleasure to see a story for children that feels appropriate to our times. The question of how to keep going when every good thing feels doomed is addressed quite neatly in the film by a 2-foot-tall troll by the name of “Grand Pabbie.” And it seems I’m not the only one to, abashedly, derive comfort from his advice, which Anna repeats at her darkest hour:  “When you can’t see the future, just do the next right thing.”

Categories
News

Scattered history: The city’s 74 historic properties piece together our past

The city of Charlottesville wasn’t incorporated until 1888, but people are recorded as living in the region as far back as 1612, when English explorer John Smith encountered a Monacan village and documented it on the very first map of Virginia.

The Native Americans gradually left as European immigrants moved in, relying on the Three Notch’d Road trade route that stretched from the Appalachian Mountains to Richmond. From there, Charlottesville grew from a small collection of settlers into the city it is today.

In addition to the local landmarks identified by the National Park Service as historical places, Charlottesville recognizes 74 individually protected properties that each contain a history that tells a chapter of our town’s story.

While the full list can be found online at the city’s website, here are 11 places that played important roles in shaping Charlottesville into the city it is today.

Woolen Mills Chapel

(1819 E. Market St.)

Dating back to the very beginnings of Charlottesville, Woolen Mills was one of the first communities to develop into a neighborhood. Several wool mills operated there as far back as 1795, but the most prominent one was situated on the east side of town; built in the 1840s, it was the workplace of most of the surrounding residents.

The mill was burned down by Union troops in 1864, but owner Henry Clay Marchant rebuilt it in a year. The wool industry became one of Albemarle County’s most successful, further expanding the surrounding neighborhood. This mill in particular specialized in making cloth for uniforms.

In 1886, a religious movement made its way through Charlottesville, prompting the mill workers to build a non-denominational chapel for their community. It was finished just in time for Christmas in 1887, before being formally consecrated on May 13, 1888. An addition was built to accommodate Sunday school classes in 1908, but the building hasn’t received any other alterations since.

The chapel represents a classic 19th-century church design, featuring tall, arching gothic doors and carved-wood pews on either side of the main aisle. Its most prominent feature is a 50-foot bell tower shaped like an octagon with green shingles.

The church remained non-denominational until 1956, when it was taken over by the Pentecostal Holiness Congregation. The Christian parish held onto it through 1964 before handing it over to the Calvary Baptist Church, which still uses it today. It was also around that time when the original woolen mill closed for good, but by that point the neighborhood had developed into much more than a community of mill workers. It will start its latest chapter next year, when local tech company WillowTree opens a new headquarters in the former mill, which will also house an events space, coffee and wine shop, and brewery.

Photo: Skyclad Aerial

C&O Coal Tower

(133-155 Carlton Rd.)

As with many Southern cities, it’s impossible to talk about the growth of Charlottesville without discussing the impact of the railroad. On June 27, 1850, the city was changed forever when the first coal train arrived, quickly making Charlottesville one of the biggest transportation hubs in Virginia.

The train station was burned down by Union troops during the Civil War, but rebuilt in 1870, opening its doors for the Chesapeake & Ohio line with the coal industry booming like never before.

By 1905, the original wooden structure was replaced by a brick station with prominent white columns out front. The coal tower next to it—also made of wood—was used until 1942, when a 91-foot concrete tower with a coal capacity of 300 tons was installed.

But as diesel trains began to replace steam engines in the mid-20th century, use of the station began to decline. Amtrak ditched the station altogether in 1979, opting to run its trains through Union Station across town instead. Commercial trains took a similar route three years later. In 1986, the coal tower closed its doors.

The station has since been demolished, but the tower is considered a significant local landmark—although it has developed a checkered history. The tower witnessed both a double homicide and an apparent suicide during the early 2000s, and has often been a gathering place for drug users.

C&O Row, an expensive townhome development, has since taken over the surrounding land, and in 2018 the Charlottesville Board of Architectural Review approved plans to create a pocket park around the tower,  complete with a covered patio and bocce court. But construction on that project—and the rehabilitation of the tower in general—has yet to begin. Meanwhile, the coal tower remains, reminding local residents of both the high and low points that took place there over the past 150 years.

Staff photo.

Jefferson School

(233 Fourth St. NW)

Opened in 1926, Jefferson High was the first high school for African Americans in Charlottesville—and only the 10th in Virginia.

The original Jefferson School, established in 1869 to educate former slaves, was a single room in the Delevan Hotel on West Main Street. It eventually expanded to grades K-8, and the Jefferson Colored Graded School was constructed at Fourth and Commerce streets (the site is now part of the parking lot of the current Jefferson School). In 1924, parents and community leaders petitioned the school board to add a high school for black students.   

Jefferson High School underwent significant renovations from 1938-39. A library and courtyard were added, part of an expansion project paid for with Public Works Administration funds.

When Jackson P. Burley High School opened in 1951 to serve African American students in both the city and the county, Jefferson High became an elementary school (the neighboring Jefferson Graded School building was demolished in 1959). As schools across the state began to integrate, attendance at the Jefferson School—despite undergoing further expansion in the late 1950s and switching to a junior high school in the ’60s—began to wane.

From 1975-1982, the Jefferson School functioned as a “swing school,” providing classrooms and facilities for other local schools in the area while they underwent renovations. In 2004, a city-appointed commission recommended that the site be used to honor Charlottesville’s African American history, leading to a nine-year process that resulted in the opening of the Jefferson School City Center.

Today the school is home to the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center as well as Carver Recreation Center and nine other nonprofit organizations.

The Elijah Thomas House. Staff photo.

Tyree Thomas
and Elijah Thomas Houses

(406/410 Dice St.)

In one of the first early land purchases by an African American in Charlottesville, Tyree Thomas bought a three-quarter-acre lot in 1871—eight years after the Emancipation Proclamation. He built a house on the land three years later and sold part of it to his brother, Elijah. The structures on each of their properties laid the foundation for what is now the Fifeville and Tonsler Neighborhoods Historic District.

Both Tyree and Elijah were listed as “servants” in the 1880 census while Tyree’s wife, Lavinia, was described as “keeping house.” Although there are no official records of Tyree’s death or burial, Charlottesville’s Neighborhood Development Services estimates he died around 1898. Lavinia occupied the house with her children until the 1910s. The 1920 census places her in Philadelphia, where she lived until she died in 1932.

The Tyree Thomas House has since been used as both a private residence and rental property. It’s now in the hands of local residents Victoria Fort and Dylan McKenzie, who in 2018 submitted a Certificate of Appropriateness application for exterior renovation of nine different aspects of the house. The Board of Architectural Review unanimously approved the motion and the project, which is considered to be a long-term endeavor.

Staff photo.

Benjamin Tonsler House

(327 Sixth St. SW)

Benjamin Tonsler was born into slavery on April 2, 1854, in Albemarle County, and became a prominent educator and community leader. After attending Hampton University, Tonsler returned to Charlottesville and taught at the Jefferson Graded School, where he served as principal for nearly 30 years. Tonsler also surreptitiously tutored older students after hours, helping prepare them for college at a time when there were no local public high schools for African American students.

In the late 1870s, Tonsler purchased land on Sixth Street and built a home there, just a few years after Tyree Thomas built his. He spent 38 years there before leaving it to his family upon his death in 1917. The Tonsler family owned the land until 1983, when it was sold to Curtis Morton Jr.

Morton “put a lot of time and energy into the house,” according to a C-VILLE Weekly story from June 2019. But when it ended up in the hands of current owners Ryan Rooney and Kevin Badke, in 2016, Rooney said “the inside was extremely distressed, and we felt at risk of actually collapsing.”

The renovation progressed slowly, and the house appeared neglected for several years. Following the publication of the C-VILLE story, however, it received more attention. The front porch has now been refurbished and overgrown landscaping trimmed back.

City Preservation Manager Jeff Werner says “people seem to be pleased” about the state of the house now that it’s been cleaned up.

Staff photo.

Coca-Cola Bottling Works

(722 Preston Ave.)

One of the most recognizable landmarks in Charlottesville, the Coca-Cola bottling plant was built in 1939. The two-story red brick building was situated next to several houses, one of which was purchased in 1944 and used for 33 years as a home for employees.

Coca-Cola opened its original Charlottesville production plant in 1926, on 10th Street, in a building that was recently redeveloped into the Tenth Street Warehouses. As the economy picked up after the Great Depression, the soda maker needed a larger plant to accommodate demand and moved to Preston Avenue.

In 1941, its first year at the new plant, Coca-Cola produced 258,683 cases of its signature beverage. The facility’s distribution territory at the time included parts of Albemarle, Greene, Fluvanna, Louisa, Orange, and Madison counties, with a projected customer base of almost 100,000 people.

Coca-Cola used the property for production until 1973, when it was converted into a distribution center for a new Staunton bottling plant that is still used today. The building’s windows were bricked in during the early 1980s, but the facility was fully operational until 2010. That’s when the company, which only employed 42 people in Charlottesville by that point, decided to relocate to an area outside Richmond.

The building still has the iconic Coca-Cola logo emblazoned across the side, but it now houses Kardinal Hall, along with the UVA Licensing & Ventures Group, Blue Ridge Cyclery, and an energy development firm. It was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2013.

Skyclad Aerial

Monticello Dairy Building

(946 Grady Ave.)

The Dairy Central project that lawmakers have touted since it was first announced in 2017 is in full swing, eyeing a completion date in 2020 that will give the property that once housed a milk processing plant new life and an increased role in the city’s development.

The history behind the prominent building at the intersection of 10th Street and Grady Avenue began in 1912, when the Monticello Ice Cream Company sold its first scoop. The business didn’t have a set location, instead serving as the region’s first unofficial ice cream “truck,” delivering the frozen dessert around the area via horse and buggy.

When the Monticello Ice Cream Company expanded its business in the 1930s, it rebranded itself as Monticello Dairy and commissioned local architect Elmer Burruss to construct a production plant. The project was finished in 1937 and cemented the dairy company as one of the largest employers in town.

Burruss’ lasting legacy, however, was the large ice cream parlor and event room on the property, which developed into a popular gathering place for local residents. Several additions were made to the building in the 1940s and ’50s, creating space that was eventually leased out to other businesses.

The building and surrounding 4.3-acre property were sold in 2017 for almost $12 million, paving the way for the $80 million Dairy Central project that’s currently underway. While the building itself is being maintained and the original brick and tile refurbished, the rest of the property is undergoing a complete facelift, which owners hope will re-establish it as a community hub.

The development will include a food hall, Dairy Market, that’s expected to house 18 vendors including Angelic’s Kitchen and Eleva Coffee, along with a new home for Starr Hill Brewery. It will also have 180 apartments (15 of which will be affordable units) and office space.

Staff photo.

Barringer Mansion

(1404 Jefferson Park Ave.)

Perhaps the most exquisite property on the entire list of IPPs is Barringer Mansion, former home of Dr. Paul Barringer. A UVA professor experienced as a scientist, physician, and publisher, Barringer purchased the land in 1895 for five-and-a-half shares of stock valued at $1,375. The mansion was built a year later, proving to be one of the most impressive sights in Charlottesville.

Constructed in Queen Anne style, the house stood out with its pointed tower, white columns, and numerous chimneys. Barringer, who eventually rose to be the chairman of faculty—the equivalent to university president—at UVA, often instructed students there outside of class, and welcomed several high-profile guests including Theodore Roosevelt and William Jennings Bryan.

No one played a bigger role in establishing the hospital at UVA than Barringer, who had a wing named after him. But recently, questions have been raised over Barringer’s promotion of white supremacy, and last year UVA Health System said it would seek Board of Visitors approval to remove his name from the wing.

In an essay titled, “The American Negro: His Past and Future,” which he read at a 1900 medical convention in South Carolina, Barringer called the recently emancipated African American community “savage,” and insisted black people were helped by being enslaved.

The mansion was converted into an apartment complex after Barringer’s death in 1941, but the impressive exterior remained intact. UVA purchased the building in 1985, and it’s now home to the French House, which is the university’s center for French cultural life.

Staff photo

Patterson Wing of Martha Jefferson Hospital

(459 Locust Ave.)

Until 1904, most medical visits and procedures in and around Charlottesville were held in patients’ homes. That’s when seven local doctors, one of whom was a great-great-great grandson of Thomas Jefferson, founded the nonprofit Martha Jefferson Hospital on East High Street. The facility had 25 beds and cost a little more than $8,000.

The hospital remained there until local benefactor James Addison Patterson and his wife Georgianna donated $100,000 for it to expand and relocate to Locust Avenue. Although it opened with just 50 beds, the hospital went on to serve the Charlottesville community in that location for 82 years. It expanded to a 116-bed capacity in 1954 with a new maternity ward and X-ray department, and experienced steady growth into the 1990s.

In 2001, the nonprofit hospital, seeking to expand, purchased 84 acres at Peter Jefferson Place in Pantops—although it didn’t officially move out for another 10 years. The main hospital building and surrounding campus were sold to the Charlottesville-based development company Octagon Partners for $6.5 million in 2010 ahead of the relocation.

The property was rebuilt and leased out as office space, but the Patterson Wing, named after the hospital’s early patrons, still exists. It’s now home to the CFA Institute, an investment company. Corporate officials told The Daily Progress in 2014 that the building’s original hardwood and terrazzo floors were preserved, as were its signature arched hallways and nine-foot ceilings.

Staff photo

Monticello Wine Company House

(212 Wine St.)

The event that kickstarted Charlottesville’s journey to becoming a renowned wine location occurred in 1873, when the Monticello Wine Company was established to provide local vineyards with a buyer for their grapes and produce what the Albemarle Charlottesville Historical Society calls “pure and healthful, low-alcohol table wines of medium grade.”

Led by German wine cellar supervisor Adolph Russow, those expectations were quickly surpassed. The four-story facility’s most popular product was called “Extra Virginia Claret,” a red wine globally recognized after receiving awards at the 1876 Vienna Exposition and the 1878 Paris World’s Fair.

Despite being a farming cooperative rather than a privately owned business, the Monticello Wine Company grew into the largest winery in the South by 1890; the winery had a 200,000 gallon production capacity thanks in part to the 3,000 acres of vineyards in the surrounding area.

It wasn’t long before the Charlottesville region began calling itself the “capital of the wine belt in Virginia.” According to the historical marker placed at the site, its wine was even used to christen the Navy battleship USS Virginia in 1904.

But signs of trouble began in 1887, when local grape production was slowed by the spread of black rot across Charlottesville-area vineyards. The Monticello Wine Company was forced to import its grapes from other states, and increased competition from California wineries only slowed business further.

Virginia’s statewide prohibition law in 1916 forced the company to cease production altogether. The building remained a storage facility even after the alcohol ban was lifted in 1933, eventually burning down in a fire in 1937. Russow’s home, which sits next to the site, still stands today.

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Arts

Making spaces: “Black Enough” web series explores the details of authenticity

Micah Ariel Watson wanted to take a break from writing.

It was summer 2018, and the filmmaker and playwright was back home in Wichita, Kansas. She’d just graduated from UVA with degrees in drama and African American studies, and she’d been busy.

Her films Edges (2016) and Educated Feet (2017) screened at the Virginia Film Festival, and 40th & State (2018) screened at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art. She won a prestigious Kennedy Center National Undergraduate Playwriting Award in 2018 for her full-length play Canaan. And The Black Monologues, an original storytelling production that Watson and a group of collaborators first staged at UVA in 2015, resonated so strongly with fellow students that it’s been revived every year since.

So it’s easy to see why Watson wanted to pause for a moment before diving into a dramatic writing graduate program at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts.

But as she reflected on her experience as a black student at UVA (a predominantly white institution), the challenges she faced, and the transformation she began, she processed her thoughts and feelings as she always has: she wrote.

The result is “Black Enough,” a 13-part web series that follows Amaya, a young black woman who grew up in the predominantly white Chicago suburbs, and her friends through their freshman year at Weston, a fictional PWI not unlike Watson’s own alma mater.

Amaya, a dancer and a Christian, “realizes that in order to survive at this PWI, she has to find black friends for her mental health, for her well-being,” says Watson. “But the problem is, she doesn’t feel like she understands black culture enough, or fits into the community enough.”

Each episode of “Black Enough” follows Amaya as she attempts to find her place. She attends a Black Student Union welcome event. She decides to stop relaxing her hair and has it braided, with the goal of eventually wearing it natural. She plays spades and reads Ta-Nehisi Coates for her African and Diaspora Studies 101 class. She dances, she listens to music, she goes to church.

Amaya’s written the ingredients for what she calls her “Black Girl Magic Potion” on her dorm room mirror, ticking them off “in an effort to become ‘blacker,’ which doesn’t quite work for her in the ways that she expected,” says Watson, “because blackness is nuanced and complicated, and not really something that you can write down in a list.”

“Black Enough” was shot mostly on 16mm film, over the course of 19 days this past June, in and around Charlottesville and UVA. Watson wrote, directed, and executive produced the series, and she says that collaborations among the cast and crew are what really made the series sing. From the acting to the costume, sound, and production design, and details such as the Oreo cookies on the table in the scene where Amaya and her friends play spades and debate the question, “What does it mean to be black?”

“We wanted to make something artful and meaningful. It’s not just about giving people something good to watch,” says producer Josh Palmer.

“Black Enough” was not beholden to any “professors, or rules and regulations, or industry standards,” says Watson. “The art was coming from a place of authenticity.”

Watson hopes viewers watch closely enough to pick up on some of the details. For example, when Amaya dances under a streetlight in episode six, the shots reference rapper Kendrick Lamar’s Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City and To Pimp A Butterfly albums, as well as the music videos Lamar shot with filmmaker Kahlil Joseph. Watson titled the episode “Butterfly Wings.” Transformation, once again.

The first Black Student Union scene was shot at UVA’s Jefferson Hall—young, black people occupying a space while “literally surrounded by images of old, white people; old, white men,” in order “to show [how] even when black people try to create a space for themselves, there’s still a history that they have to try to pierce through in order to make the space actually their own,” says Watson.

The “Black Enough” cast and crew experienced that very challenge acutely while filming episode 10’s BSU protest scene at the UVA amphitheater. The cops showed up and asked what was going on, though Palmer and Watson both say it was clearly a film shoot, with lights, cameras, catering tables, actors in makeup, and wardrobe. Just a couple days before, Watson and Palmer had noticed a group of white students, perhaps fraternity brothers, being rowdy and loud in the same space, completely uninterrupted.

“It’s frustrating to me, the ways that black bodies are surveilled, even when we’re making art, even when we’re not going to do anything that’s going to harm anyone else,” says Watson.

“The idea that making art poses a threat to people, it’s frustrating, but it also…makes me feel very powerful,” she says. “Like, y’all are stressed that we’ll put something out in the world…that we’re using our voices. It’s a testament to what art can do, and how it can shake up spaces.”

Perhaps that’s why Watson just couldn’t take a break from writing.

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Arts

ARTS Pick: Hiss Golden Messenger

Hiss honesty. M.C. Taylor has been playing music as Hiss Golden Messenger for more than 10 years. His style, though memorable, is hard to categorize as squarely folk, Americana, or gospel. Sure, there is mandolin and a folky twang, but on the next track you might be surprised by an electronic piano. The things that stay consistent on HGM albums: vulnerable honesty about American culture, finding purpose, and parenting. Also on the bill is Lucy Dacus, an indie rocker from Richmond known for her somber, highly amped melodies and unique storytelling style.

Saturday 11/30. $25, 7pm. The Jefferson Theater, 110 E. Main St., Downtown Mall. 245-4980.

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Arts

ARTS Pick: The Flying Karamazov Brothers

Let it fly. Performing as clever pranksters since 1973, The Flying Karamazov Brothers have happily basked in the career-long praise from audiences and critics who call them zany, goofy, and creative. The Brothers mix juggling, theatrics, and comedy into their precisely calibrated act in which every joke and acrobatic stunt lands perfectly. According to Variety, “Nobody leaves the theater without a big grin!”

Saturday 11/30. $24-54, 7pm. The Paramount Theater, 215 E. Main St., Downtown Mall. 979-1333.

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Arts

Siding with vinyl: The pros and cons of Record Store Day

Perhaps you’ve seen them, the vinyl devotees. They live among us, frequently darting in and out of record stores and flea markets, some more conspicuous (and vocal) than others. But twice a year, on the Friday after Thanksgiving and a Saturday in April, many wake early and convene outside independent record shop doors. They line up—waiting with bated breath—for the chance to score a limited release on Record Store Day.

According to the Record Store Day website, a group of independent record shop owners launched the inaugural event in April 2008 to “celebrate the unique culture of a record store and the special role these independently owned stores play in their communities.”

In the decade-plus since, RSD has grown to include more than 1,400 shops in the U.S., plus thousands of others on six continents (Antarctica is the exception), offering more than 500 exclusive vinyl releases in April and more than 150 every November.

Three of Charlottesville’s independently-owned shops participate, and we wanted to know: Does the event actually honor record-store culture in the way it claims to? Yes and no.

Record Store Days are a lot of work for employees—the buying and the staffing (in some cases, it’s all the same, single person)—and prep begins months in advance.

Label and band offerings appear on an official RSD list that circulates among shop owners and buyers, with special releases ranging from a Barbarella soundtrack picture disc to a 180-gram mono pressing of Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue to (yet another) previously unreleased Grateful Dead live set.

Buyers consider what might sell well—what regular customers would definitely or maybe want, and which releases might appeal to new customers (those exclusive Taylor Swift picture discs, for example)—and place orders. Customers can view the list at recordstoreday.com and make requests at their local shops as well.

But the boxes that arrive don’t always include what the shops order—perhaps they’ve ordered 10 copies of a Father John Misty EP pressed on heart-shaped red vinyl, but receive just three of the 5,700 made. Shops are not allowed to hold releases for customers; enthusiasts have to show up at the store, in person, on that day, to get the records they seek.

Not having the releases that customers want is one of the greatest frustrations of Record Store Day, says Cal Glattfelder, owner of Sidetracks Music. It’s difficult to tell an eager customer that the shop doesn’t have a particular release.

Plus, RSD is risky business for these small shops. They pay thousands of dollars up front for records that may or may not sell, and labels don’t take returns. Stores might not make their money back right away, if at all.

“I have ghosts of Record Store Days past floating all around the shop,” says Glattfelder. Some have been there a few years, he admits with a laugh.

A few releases “are like a bad penny; you just can’t get rid of them,” says Bob Schick, who buys for Plan 9 locations in Charlottesville and Richmond.

Others are highly coveted and show up for sale, usually at an inflated price, on Ebay or the online music database/marketplace Discogs as soon as lucky opportunists can list them.

That’s yet another drawback, says Schick. “Sometimes, I feel like the scarcity of some items make them more desirable than they might be. But that’s a really small quibble.”

Plan 9 tries to circumvent that, and help its customers out, by participating in a RSD releases exchange via the Coalition of Independent Music Stores—after the event, it will take customer requests and try to fulfill those requests via other brick-and-mortar stores across the country. “Whatever we can do to bring it in and keep it at the same price as the day,” says Schick.

The two Record Store Day events tend to be local shops’ busiest days of the year—Sidetracks and Plan 9 have more staff on hand, and Gwen Berthy, owner and sole employee of Melody Supreme, calls in his wife to help him out. Stores see a mix of regular customers, occasional customers, and those who come in just for the sale events.

In Berthy’s opinion, the opportunist shoppers who come in only twice a year for the special releases can cast a shadow on the event.

“I feel always a little sad when people only go see RSD stuff, then come to check out,” says Berthy. “They don’t look around to see my collection, to see what I’m doing [with my shop]. That’s pretty tough.”

After all, the personal interaction, be it through conversation or through the carefully selected records hanging out in the store bins, is what Record Store Day aims to celebrate.

Despite the mayhem, the reward can be great. And not just for business, but for the love of music. There’s almost always something truly precious that sets customer and shop staff hearts aflutter. This time around, for Schick, it’s cartoon music composer Raymond Scott’s The Jingle Workshop: Midcentury Musical Miniatures 1951-1965.

That’s why “we have to do it, because there’s always great stuff. There’s always something for someone,” says Berthy, who’s eager to have Seiche’s Demo Press, a hard psych record originally issued as a limited edition in 1981, in his hands on Friday. The original is quite rare (and thus wicked expensive), so to have a Record Store Day reissue created from the original master tapes and sold at a nice price, “is great,” says Berthy. “It’s just great.”

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Arts

ARTS Pick: Hangover Ball

Thanks, I’m out. Powder-dry turkey leftovers, crusty chunks of stuffing, gelatinous gravy, and pie that’s been hacked at all angles by a variety of utensils and fingers. This is the reality of the day after Thanksgiving. Get outta there before there’s another load of dishes to dry, and shake off the tryptophan at the Hangover Ball featuring Lord Nelson, Erin & The Wildfire, and Will Overman, three Virginia acts rooted in Americana and infectious songwriting.

Friday 11/29. $10-15, 8pm. The Jefferson Theater, 110 E. Main St., Downtown Mall. 245-4980.