Shamia Hopkins, a lead cook at Rising Roll Gourmet, was one of those expecting to head back to work after spring break. Instead, she was told to immediately close the café and not return. Photo: Zack Wajsgras
By Sydney Halleman
When Cece Cowan first heard about Aramark Dining Services, the company that contracts with UVA to staff its dining halls, she was impressed. Cowan liked the global reach of the company and its potential relocation opportunities, especially Georgia, where she wanted to buy a house for herself and her three small children. The company offered her a significant raise from her previous job at UVA Medical Center, and its recruiters touted the number of employees who had been at Aramark for over a decade. In February, Cowan accepted the gig, and began working at the Observatory Hill Dining Hall.
Now, she is one of the scores of contract employees at UVA Dining who were abruptly laid off earlier this month, with no severance or rehiring timeline. UVA declined to say how many workers had been laid off, referring the inquiry to Aramark, which did not answer the question.
Mounting bills and uncertain futures are just some of the issues facing UVA’s Aramark employees after they received phone calls from supervisors telling them not to report to work. The layoffs come after UVA shut its doors to students for the rest of this semester in order to prevent the spread of the novel coronavirus. While the university assured the community it would “honor all existing commitments” to full- and part-time employees, it made no promises to its more than 800 contracted employees, like those in the dining hall and custodial services. (The mid-March closure included all dining halls except Observatory Hill.)
Earetha Brown. Photo: Zack Wajsgras
Earetha Brown started working at UVA Dining in 1991, making just $2.50 an hour. After over 20 years of service, Brown was informed that she would receive no compensation after her sudden and unexpected layoff earlier this month. “A person like me has been there, dedicated, going to work every day, not missing a day, doing what they asked of us. We love those students. I dedicated my life,” Brown says. “And now you get a call, a phone call that you don’t have a job.”
Since UVA announced its closure shortly before workers were scheduled to return from spring break (during which most dining hall workers are not paid), some workers have not received a paycheck since February.
Shamia Hopkins, a lead cook at Rising Roll Gourmet, was one of those expecting to head back to work after spring break. Instead, she was told to immediately close the café and not return. “We just didn’t get anything. It was just like, ‘Okay, file unemployment, here’s your layoff letter.’ That’s all we got.” She has three kids, plus, “I have a car payment, I have car insurance, and I still have to buy groceries.” Hopkins says. “I have a son that’s 1 year old. I still have to buy diapers and stuff like that.” Unemployment, she says, will not cover her bills.
In a letter, Aramark told employees they were being placed on “temporary shutdown status,” and could cash in any remaining sick days before filing for unemployment. And though they were given no assurances of being rehired in the fall, Hopkins says she hopes to return to work and is worried about using all of her sick days. “You never know when you’re going to need it when we do come back,” she says. The company said employees with health benefits could maintain them at least through the end of June, and added that they are “actively working…to offer additional support.”
The layoffs come after a hard-fought victory by the Living Wage Campaign, which had advocated for better pay for UVA’s non-academic employees for over 20 years. In March of last year, the university announced it was raising wages to $15 per hour for UVA employees, and in October it extended the promise to full-time contract workers. “As a university, we should live our values—and part of that means making sure that no one who works at UVA should live in poverty,” UVA president Jim Ryan said in a statement last March.
Cece Cowan. Photo: Zack Wajsgras
Now, however, employees like Cowan and others are relying on Charlottesville City Schools to provide food for their children, because they cannot pay their bills. “I did apply for unemployment, and I got some of that today. But I mean, a hundred dollars a week isn’t really going to cut what I’m used to bringing home,” Cowan says. Some Aramark supervisors appeared to be reaching out to employees to try to help. Cowan says a supervisor offered her an additional nine paid sick days. And another employee shared a text she’d received saying the company would begin providing ready to eat meals (up to five days a week) to employees who needed them, starting April 1. Others said they had not been told about the meal service.
Some workers assumed that UVA would offer to feed employees from the stock of perishable food available in the dining halls. Instead, the university donated all of the excess food to area charities, including the Salvation Army. “Why not your employees?” Brown says. Others point to UVA’s colossal $9.6 billion endowment and its refusal to refund tuition or fees to students as evidence that the university could afford to compensate its laid off workers while school is closed. (The university did refund students’ room and board for the remainder of the semester.)
On March 17, student activists released a petition calling for UVA to (among other things) provide paid sick leave for its non-student workers, including the contracted Aramark employees at UVA Dining. The petition calls the layoffs “immoral” and “severely threatening to the wellbeing of these individuals, their families, and society as we allow certain people to be neglected and treated as disposable.” The petition has garnered over 865 signatures.
“Things are getting really serious. We need action. We need solutions to these things,” says Joie Asuquo, a fourth-year student and one of the co-authors of the petition. Asuquo is motivated by the students at universities like Harvard, who organized a petition with 6,500 signatures demanding that the university pay its subcontracted workers.
Asuquo says that students’ unrefunded mandatory fees should be used to help compensate laid-off workers. A FAQ page on the university’s website says the decision not to refund is to “enable us to pay our employees.” One such annual fee, $246 per regular session student, is paid directly to Newcomb Hall, one of the dining centers.
“I was just doing some math and it wasn’t adding up,” Asuquo says.
Living wage activists are beginning to realize that there may be another fight ahead of them. “One woman said it’s our job to advocate for people that could lose their jobs if they spoke up for themselves,” Asuquo says., “That’s what keeps us going.’”
Asked for comment, Wesley Hester, director of university media relations, said in an email that UVA recognizes the “unprecedented and rapidly changing situation” and was “in conversation with contractors” like Aramark, but did not provide any more specific information.
Workers will be waiting for a better response. “I gave UVA my life and they gave me nothing,” Brown says. “ It hurts.”
Updated 4/1 to note that UVA refunded students’ room and board.
Governor Northam's stay-home order will be active until June 10.
Settle in
“Our message today is very clear: That is to stay home,” said Governor Ralph Northam at the beginning of a March 30 press conference.
On March 27, the governor issued Executive Order 53, which shut down schools for the rest of the year, closed all “non-essential” businesses, and asked everyone to social distance, in hopes of slowing the spread of COVID-19. But over the weekend, photos of crowded beaches in places like Norfolk showed that many Virginians weren’t taking Northam’s suggestions seriously. Late last week, Charlottesville’s City Council wrote an open letter to the governor, urging him to “implement stricter measures.”
Monday’s Executive Order 55 is more direct, and requires everyone to stay home unless they are seeking medical attention, buying food or other essential supplies, caring for a family member, or “engaging in outdoor activity, including exercise.” Public beaches and campgrounds are closed.
In-person gatherings of 10 or more people are now punishable by a Class 1 misdemeanor. Northam said last week that the state is “certainly not looking to put people in jails,” but that law enforcement will be taking steps when necessary to break up groups.
Not much should change here in Charlottesville, where the city had already shut down most public spaces. Essential businesses like grocery stores will stay open, and restaurants and retail stores will still be allowed to offer online ordering (or in-person shopping with no more than 10 customers at a time) and curbside pickup or delivery.
The executive order will be in effect until at least June 10. “To date, this has been a suggestion,” Northam said on Monday. “Today, it’s an order.”
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Quote of the Week
“This is a little bit of medical trivia for you. Certainly nothing against our retail stores that sell clothing, and especially neckties, but neckties actually harbor contagious pathogens.”
—Governor Ralph Northam, on his new look. He hasn’t worn a tie in two weeks, reports the Virginian-Pilot.
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In Brief
Senior scare
Despite limiting visitors and other safety measures, The Colonnades, a nursing home in Albemarle County, confirmed March 27 that there is a case of COVID-19 within its community. The facility has since ramped up its prevention efforts, including ending communal dining and screening all residents and staff for symptoms daily. A resident at The Lodge at Old Trail in Crozet also tested positive for the virus last week.
Farm fresh
As restaurants close or pivot to take-out, some have dropped their weekly orders from local farms. But Brian Helleberg, owner of downtown French spots Fleurie and Petit Pois, has taken a more creative tack. After donating food to his staff, he’s now repurposing his deliveries into a CSA. For $109, customers can purchase a weekly basket of kitchen staples, from veggies to meats, and can add other foods, including ready-to-go meals. A portion of the proceeds will benefit the restaurants’ longtime partner, City Schoolyard Garden.
A hoopless backboard at Washington Park. Staff photo
Hoop dreams
Neighborhood Development Services closed all of the city’s basketball courts last week due to the coronavirus, but that order was seemingly not enough to keep locals from shooting hoops. So NDS removed the rims from the backboards at multiple courts, including Washington Park. Die-hard ballers will have to get creative.
Keep up the pace
Those who signed up for the Charlottesville Ten Miler don’t have to let months of training go down the drain. From now until April 4, all are welcome to participate in a virtual race by running 10 miles by themselves on the official course, or a different route, and recording their times on the Ten Miler website. Don’t want to leave the house? No worries—you can run it out on the treadmill.
“Remember when I said I doubted the university would move classes online because it would be a logistical nightmare? Well, I was only half right. UVA will and has moved classes online. And it’s a logistical nightmare.”
This quote, from an email sent by one of my professors, nicely sums up the sentiment of UVA faculty and students. I’ve heard and read a lot of grumbling about the university-mandated switch to Zoom, and I’ve done a fair bit of it myself. We fourth-years are especially bummed, since it’s more than just a “logistical nightmare” for us. It looks like the rest of our time at UVA isn’t going to be at UVA at all.
The latest update from President Jim Ryan, letting us know that final exercises as we know them are officially canceled, was a particularly upsetting blow. Graduation ceremonies were the one school-related part of being a fourth-year I really didn’t want to miss. We’ve been told that UVA is “developing creative alternatives,” but I’m skeptical. I shudder to think of the Zoom call that would accommodate a crowd of 4,000.
Charlottesville is not unique here, of course. This is a trend happening at universities across the country and the world, and it’s a necessary one. We can whine all we want about how much the rest of this semester is going to suck (and admittedly, it’ll probably suck), but these are prudent precautions.
What I’ve been trying to do these past few days is keep in mind how relatively fortunate I am. I’m still in Charlottesville (sorry, President Ryan) because of my job as delivery boy at New Dominion Bookshop. My parents live outside Richmond, an easy drive in case I need to return home. I’m an English major in the creative writing program whose thesis is being written in isolation anyways—my degree doesn’t depend on student teaching or hands-on lab work.
I’ve heard stories of other students faring worse—like my friend Aline Dolinh, a fellow fourth-year who recently returned from Germany. Her trip should’ve ended days earlier, but thanks to what she calls a “comedy of errors,” involving a stolen backpack that contained her laptop and passport, she was stranded. Things were looking grim as Germany continued to close its borders and restrict travel, but she (incredibly) got at least her passport returned to her and made it back to the States earlier this week, where she’s now hanging out in her parents’ basement “like a medieval plague victim.”
Aside from such ill-fated trips abroad, what about the students whose actual homes are overseas? According to recent data, UVA has nearly 2,500 nonresident alien students enrolled in undergraduate and graduate programs. What percentage of these students is trying but unable to return home? How long might they be stuck here? Questions like these make me remember how lucky I am to be an in-state student with a car, and my right to complain shrinks that much more.
Of course, there’s the social side of this to consider too. We’ll find creative ways to graduate, but what about creative ways to remain in touch? When I chatted with Aline the other day, she agreed that “it’s the small things that are hitting the most. I won’t be able to do x or y with my friends, and I don’t know the next time I’ll get to see some of these people.”
Charlottesville—particularly the university side of Charlottesville—is starting to feel like a ghost town. Two of my three roommates are still here, but from what I’ve seen, this is pretty unusual. My Instagram and Facebook feeds are stuffed with fourth-years posting bittersweet photos of the Lawn with captions commemorating their “3.75 years” and giving an emotional goodbye to Charlottesville.
As far as I know, the majority of my fourth- year friends have already packed up and headed back to their family homes. This includes Veronica Sirotic, who was the first friend I made at UVA—though I’m sure I wasn’t hers. Veronica is one of the most social people I’ve ever met. It seems like she can make friends with someone as effortlessly as shaking their hand—two activities which I guess are prohibited for the time being.
When I FaceTimed Veronica to check in, she answered the call wearing her cap and gown—graduation photos, she explained. She had a mini ceremony with her roommates (from a socially safe distance, of course), after which she drove to her parents’ place in Arlington.
She was understandably upset about the situation, but was also trying to keep a fair perspective. “I’m not dead, and my family is safe,” she said. “I have a lot to be grateful for.”
We both acknowledged that while being a fourth-year sucked right now, “it could suck so much more.” I referenced a post I had seen her share on Facebook from Take Back the Night, UVA’s sexual assault prevention group that she co-chairs. The post said that “people currently experiencing sexual harm or survivors of that harm may be particularly affected” by the pandemic—for a variety of reasons, including lack of access to in-person counseling and an exacerbated sense of isolation. The post was a wake-up call, another reality of this that I hadn’t even considered.
Talking with Veronica was a bit of a wake-up call, too, and it helped put things further into perspective. Sure, what’s ahead is concerning, and not just in the context of public health. This is a less-than-ideal time to be entering the job market—I have no idea what the economy will look like when I graduate in two months.
I’ve been trying not to worry about hypotheticals like that, though, and take things day-by-day. It’s easy to feel helpless in a situation like this, but we still have some agency. Veronica’s photo shoot inspired me—come May 16, if President Ryan’s “creative alternatives” don’t pan out, I might have a personal graduation ceremony in the safety of my apartment. I can wear the honors of Honors in my bedroom and hand off a diploma to myself. I won’t have a Lawn to march across and my ceilings are a little low for cap-throwing, but it’s better than nothing.
The Thomas Jefferson Health Department conducts investigations of each local case of the coronavirus. PC: CDC
You can’t stop coughing and are running a fever. It’s becoming harder for you to breathe, and you can barely muster the energy to get out of bed. A glance at the CDC’s website confirms your greatest fear: You may have the coronavirus.
What happens from there? We spoke with Ta’Kindra Westbrook, a disease intervention specialist at the Thomas Jefferson Health Department, who explains the process step-by-step. (Her answers have been edited for length and clarity.)
C-VILLE: A person calls TJHD fearing he has the coronavirus. What happens next?
Ta’Kindra Westbrook: We try to provide them with as much information as possible. If they are concerned about their symptoms or think they’ve come in contact with someone with the virus and want to get tested, we refer them to their primary care provider, who can then evaluate their symptoms and order testing, if they feel it’s necessary. If they don’t have a PCP, we ask them to call a local urgent care. Due to CDC guidelines, individuals who’ve been exposed to the virus, but don’t have symptoms, are not prioritized for testing, and are advised to self-isolate for 14 days.
Where is the test sent? How long does it take to get the results?
It all depends on the primary care provider. They can send the test to a commercial lab, such as Labcorp. The results can take up to seven days.
[Editor’s note: UVA has developed its own coronavirus test, which provides results in one to two days. To get it, a patient must be seen at or referred to UVA Health.]
What do people do while they are waiting to be tested, or for their results to come in?
They should continue to self-isolate and monitor their symptoms. If any changes occur, they should consult with their PCP and seek the necessary medical assistance.
What happens if the test comes back positive?
The lab is reported to the health department. Once we receive it, we follow up with the primary care provider and collect any necessary medical information and history. A case investigator will then call the patient and do a thorough interview with them to find out who their contacts were during their time of incubation, and while they were out and about.
Once we get the contacts’ information, we reach out to them and complete a risk assessment, which determines their exposure period to the original patient and if they have any symptoms of COVID-19. If they don’t have any, we ask them to isolate for 14 days from their last moment of contact with that original patient. But if they do have symptoms, or develop them while in isolation, we refer them for testing.
If one of the contacts tests positive for the virus, we will collect additional information from their primary care provider, and re-interview them to learn about their movement and contacts.
How is the person treated for the virus?
Again, it is up to their primary care provider. If they are experiencing mild symptoms, such as a cough or runny nose, they may be quarantined at home for approximately two weeks, during which their provider monitors their symptoms. If they have or develop severe symptoms, such as difficulty breathing, then they may need to be admitted to the hospital.
Rainbow drawings by brothers Henry, age 5, and Sam, age 3, are part of the Art Apart initiative. Henry says that rainbows make him feel “happy!," and he wanted to share his drawing “to make people happy.” Sam thinks that rainbows are “pretty,” so he also contributed a rainbow “for friends to see.” Staff photo
Art in all its forms accomplishes many things. It can entertain. It can teach us something new about ourselves, or others. It can keep us company, keep us busy, keep us calm. It can inspire. It can comfort. At its core, art is about shared humanity.
With that in mind, The Bridge Progressive Arts Initiative and Charlottesville Safe Routes to School have partnered on Art Apart: A City Wide Gallery, which is meant to keep us connected creatively as we separate physically during the threat of the COVID-19 virus.
The idea: Make or find a piece of artwork. Display it in a front window, on a door, or on a porch, so that it can be seen from the sidewalk or street.
The goal: To brighten the day of those passing by. “To give or find ways to stay connected and inspired, and bring a little bit of beauty into the world. To put it out there in spite of all this fear and uncertainty,” says Alan Goffinski, director of The Bridge PAI.
A few different things inspired Art Apart.
With schools closed until August, Kyle Rodland, Safe Routes to School coordinator for the City of Charlottesville, and his colleagues sought to set up some family-oriented activities that could continue the pedestrian safety skills kids typically learn in school—safely crossing the street at a four-way stop, building bike-riding confidence—at home. “Of course, we want people to be safe in the middle of a pandemic,” says Rodland, but people are going to go out. They’re going to take walks, drive or bike to the store.
Another “Art Apart” contribution. Staff photo
“If we can find something that has artistic value, and physical value, as far as getting some exercise and getting out and moving—it’s kind of a wholesome thing,” says Rodland, who called Goffinski to brainstorm.
Goffinski was moved by a recent post in the Charlottesville Mutual Aid Infrastructure Facebook group: A mother posted a picture of her young son sitting by the window overlooking the parking
lot of their apartment building. She explained that all day, the boy called a friendly “hello!” to folks (all adults) in the parking lot, looking for some sort of human connection as he sat cooped up in the house. Not a single person acknowledged him.
“We can do better than this,” Goffinski thought. He hopes Art Apart might help.
“It doesn’t necessarily have to be a drawing or a painting or an artwork that you’ve made yourself” to foster that connection, says Goffinski. “It can be one that someone else made that you love, that you want to stick in the window for everyone else to see.
Participants can submit their art to The Bridge’s map of places where artworks can be seen around town.
“All of these arts organizations in town are doing a Hail Mary, trying to figure out how [we] can be helpful, and be impactful,” Goffinski says. “It’s interesting to see people like Kyle, and all these other arts organizations in town not throwing in the towel, but really fighting to make sure that they’re continuing to do good things.”
Rapper LaQuinn is one of the local artists who has received aid from the Charlottesville Emergency Relief Fund for Artists, set up to help artists who have lost gigs, gallery shows, and more due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Photo by Amy and Jackson Smith
In an effort to help artists facing financial hardship because of venue closures and event cancellations due to COVID-19, The Bridge PAI and New City Arts Initiative launched the Charlottesville Emergency Relief Fund for Artists on March 20. Artists can apply to receive up to $300; all they need to show is “proof of practice,” says Bridge Director Alan Goffinski. “Proof of a canceled gig, book tour, art show, etc.,” he adds. “The quality of the work will not be judged. We just need to see proof that artists are artists.”
Andrew Stronge requested funds to recoup a fraction of the contract work he lost due to the cancellation of various regional comic-cons. A graphic designer and screen printer who creates posters, shirts, hats, and more, he relies on those events for a significant chunk of his income. He used his relief fund allocation to buy groceries for himself and his wife, who is pregnant with their first child.
Rapper LaQuinn Gilmore (you’ve seen his posters) will use his allotment to stay afloat, even if it’s for a short time—his live gigs were canceled and in-studio recording sessions are not social-distancing friendly, so he can’t record new stuff to sell. And his restaurant job’s gone to boot. Even before the pandemic, he says he was struggling to find affordable housing for himself and his daughter.
As of March 25, 61 artists had applied for $15,700 in funding, says New City Arts Executive Director Maureen Brondyke. The initial $10,000 raised has already been dispersed, and they hope donations will continue to come in to cover new requests.
“Many of these artists carefully plan from month to month, juggling [multiple] jobs on top of their creative practice in order to pay the bills,” says Brondyke about the need for immediate help. “We’re all acutely aware right now of how difficult it is to not connect with others in person, and artists are often the ones either on stage or behind the scenes creating these opportunities—at performances, at markets or fairs, in restaurants, at school, in galleries and theaters—work that often goes undervalued until it’s gone.”
Entrepreneur Oliver Kuttner says he has the infrastructure to quarantine COVID-19 infected people in an RV village, but needs help to make that happen. Photo: Elli Williams
Entrepreneur and inventor Oliver Kuttner has been known to step up in a crisis. In 2005, he loaded the Starlight Express, a Charlottesville-New York luxury bus service he co-founded, and headed south with supplies to aid victims of Hurricane Katrina in Mississippi.
Now Kuttner has a plan to house those who are infected with COVID-19 and need a place to quarantine: a 157-acre industrial site he owns near Lynchburg and the James River. Initially he wanted to build small bungalows, but then he decided RVs with their own ventilation systems could house 7,000 people more safely than hotels or dormitories.
“I have the infrastructure ready,” he says. “I’m halfway there.” But it’s the second half of his $80-million vision that’s more challenging.
“It’s bigger than what I can do,” Kuttner says. “I’m not a health care provider.”
He wants a larger organization like FEMA, the Red Cross, or state government to partner with him for what he says is a very cost-effective way to isolate infected people. “I need someone to put their arms around me,” he says. “I have a plan to flatten the curve in central Virginia.”
And Kuttner, who lives part time in Germany, believes the U.S. is where Germany was seven weeks ago. He’s convinced that if he can’t get the RV park off the ground by April 10, it will be too late to make it happen before health care capacity in the Thomas Jefferson Health District is overwhelmed.
One person interested in a similar plan and who has met with Kuttner is Lockn organizer Dave Frey, who envisions putting campers at NASCAR racetracks. “I know where to get RVs,” says Frey.
“David has experience setting up a facility for thousands of people,” says Kuttner.
But so far, Kuttner says he’s gotten no response from FEMA or elected officials. FEMA referred C-VILLE to its how to help webpage, but did not answer whether the agency would get involved in a project like Kuttner’s.
And as the pandemic continues its exponential growth, Kuttner says, “I would not be surprised if [this plan] never flies.”
The RV retreat isn’t Kuttner’s only COVID-19 effort. On Friday, he said he’d just procured 49 ventilators from his connections in China and plans to offer them to New York, where Governor Andrew Cuomo has put out a plea for the respiratory equipment.
Kuttner, who won the $5-million 2010 International X Prize for his design of a 102-miles-per-gallon car, also has finished a prototype for a patient transport vehicle that has separate ventilation for the driver. “I may build 10 next week,” he says. “I’m not sitting at home playing Netflix,” he says of his 18-hour days.
“I think we have a huge disaster coming,” says Kuttner. “I hope I have egg on my face in the end, but from what I’ve read, I think we’re underestimating it.”
At press time, there were fewer than a dozen cases of COVOID-19 in our health district. But the virus’ disruption to our everyday lives and livelihoods is already well under way. As we all struggle to adjust to this new normal, C-VILLE talked with local artists whose careers have been turned upside down by the sudden cancellation of shows, classes, and tours, and reported on efforts to help restaurants that have been forced to temporarily close or pivot to take-out only.
We are all figuring it out as we go, and those of us who are still fully employed and healthy should consider ourselves lucky. But the governor’s announcement Monday that schools will not reopen this academic year posed a seemingly insolvable problem to thousands of working parents: How do you take care of young children, let alone supervise their education, while simultaneously working full- time? (If you’ve got an answer to this one, I’m all ears).
Meanwhile, as our city, state, and federal governments struggle to provide an adequate economic response, locals have been stepping up to help: A GoFundMe for restaurant workers has raised more than $20,000, an emergency relief fund has $2 million, and a grassroots effort called Equip Cville has begun gathering personal protective gear for frontline health workers.
In normal times, this would have been our neighborhood issue (that feature is still here). But the theme that emerged in talking to residents before this crisis is even more resonant now: In all the city’s neighborhoods, it matters to people to feel like they live in a place where people watch out for one another. Over the past two weeks, our community has shown an amazing capacity to mobilize and help each other. In the coming months, we’ll need that spirit more than ever.
Hope and Shirley are long time residents of the Belmont neighborhood. Photo: Zack Wajsgras
By Charlie Burns, Carol Diggs, Brielle Entzminger, Ben Hitchcock, Laura Longhine, and Erin O’Hare
Life here in Charlottesville has changed drastically since we began working on this feature about city neighborhoods, more than a month ago. But if anything, our neighborhoods have become more important. With schools and many businesses closed, we’ve all retreated to our homes, and our neighbors have become the people we see most (albeit from a safe distance as we pass one another on the street).
On NextDoor last week, a post asking how low-risk residents could help neighbors at high risk from the coronavirus garnered more than 50 responses, and the Martha Jefferson and Little High neighborhood associations now have online signups for volunteers. Supportcville.com offers an “inquiry card” residents can print and pass out to neighbors who are self-isolating, offering to pick up groceries, post mail, or just check in with “a friendly phone call.”
In Charlottesville, with its unsavory history of racial covenants and discriminatory zoning practices, neighborhoods have often functioned as a force for exclusion. But at their best, as many residents here note, the city’s neighborhoods help bring us together. Knowing your neighbors provides a way to share information, get help when you need it, and make the place you live feel like home. In the coming months, we’ll all need these communities more than ever.
All statistical data is from the U.S. Census’ 2016 American Community Survey, as analyzed by real estate website areavibes.com. Accessibility assessments are provided by the Piedmont Environmental Council.
10th and Page/Starr Hill
Vizena Howard grew up on Anderson Street, and has lived in the 10th and Page neighborhood for most of her life. PC: Zack Wajsgras
As Charlottesville’s largest continual African American community, 10th and Page is a vital part of the city’s fabric. At the height of Jim Crow, it was one of the few neighborhoods that didn’t prohibit black residents, causing it to shift from a racially diverse community to a predominantly African American one. Throughout the years, residents have often passed their small, single-family homes —a majority of which were built in the 1920s—down from generation to generation.
To the east of 10th and Page lies Starr Hill. Though the neighborhood was historically integrated, many whites moved out when segregation was legally enforced, and the area became home to Charlottesville’s educated and wealthy black families, many of whom owned their homes. In 1927, Charlottesville’s first African American high school, the Jefferson School (now a thriving cultural heritage center) was built there.
Today, the face of both neighborhoods is changing yet again, as they grapple with gentrification. Bordering the rapidly developing West Main and within walking distance of an increasingly expensive downtown, 10th and Page has become attractive to new (and often wealthier) residents. Over the past decade, dozens of middle- and upper-class young white people have bought homes in the historic neighborhood for cheap, then renovated or entirely rebuilt them, dramatically raising property assessments and taxes. Some black residents cannot afford to live here anymore, neighbors say. And as older residents have passed away, their children and grandchildren have found it more difficult to hang on to their family homes.
Over in Starr Hill, the construction of several high-rise apartments has also brought fears of gentrification. But New Hill Development Corporation, an African American-led nonprofit, is currently working on a small area development plan that will address the neighborhood’s racial and economic issues, and not force black residents out.
Median home value
10th and Page: $260,050
Starr Hill: $288,833
Owners versus renters
10th and Page: 33% owners occupied; 67% renter occupied
This area is one of the most accessible in Charlottesville for people without a car, something that has also increased property values over the years. It has one of the highest ratings in the city on WalkScore, which could only increase over time as the City Yard is eyed for development. Public transit works well here, too, with several bus routes on West Main Street and the Route 8, which serves Preston Avenue.
What residents say
When Carl Schwarz came to the neighborhood 13 years ago, it was one of the few places in town he could afford that was walkable. Other residents like Tim Padalino, who moved to 10th & Page seven years ago with his wife, were drawn to its historic look and feel, and liked “how welcoming and inclusive most people are.”
But according to some longtime black residents, 10th and Page is no longer the close-knit neighborhood it once was. Growing up, “everybody knew everybody,” says James Bryant, who has lived in his home on 10th Street since 1981. “If there was something going on in your household, like if someone was sick, everybody in the community would rally around that individual.” Neighbors would talk outside on their front porches as their children played, and “always got together during the holidays or summertime.”
“But now it’s different,” he says. “You don’t really know your neighbors, other than the folks that’ve been here a long time.”
Bryant is also concerned about the high-rise student housing, along with other new developments on Main Street, because “it just feels like we are isolated, surrounded by all this bigness.” Vizena Howard, another longtime resident, is worried about the Dairy Central renovation, fearing it could lead both to Anderson Street (part of 10th and Page) becoming more commercial and a tax increase.
As a white newcomer to 10th and Page, Padalino admits he feels conflicted about its issues with gentrification. Nonetheless, he says he tries “to understand how [his] presence can be something that builds up harmony and positivity, and not contribute to harm and disunity,” as well as to help solve the problems 10th and Page has faced for many years, due to the city’s “historic disinvestment,” by representing the neighborhood on commissions.
John Gaines, who grew up in the neighborhood and has lived in his home here for 30 years, also says the neighborhood hasn’t entirely lost its character, as his new neighbors are friendly.
“I don’t like seeing the movement of many of my brothers and sisters out of the neighborhood,” he says. “But I like the movement of many of the new residents. It’s a positive and a negative.”
New construction and new neighbors have also taken a toll on Starr Hill’s character, according to some longtime residents. Newer arrivals “don’t smile and say hi as you walk by,” says Corey Lloyd, who moved in 17 years ago. However, she says area residents remain close, as neighbors care for and look out for each other.
Pat Edwards, who’s lived in Starr Hill for most of her life, is not bothered by the newfound mix of residents—“it makes us stronger,” she says—but by the new businesses that do not honor the neighborhood’s requests, the non-residents who take up many of the parking spaces, and the influx of traffic the projects on West Main could bring to the neighborhood.
“I love the view of the sky from my porch” says Lloyd,” especially when there are no cranes—there are currently two.”
Fun fact
During the 1950s and 1960s, lawyers from the NAACP, including Oliver Hill, who helped to overturn the separate but equal legal doctrine and other landmark civil rights cases, met at 10th and Page resident Virginia Carrington’s house.
Starr Hill got its name from the prominent African Americans who lived there. These teachers, doctors, lawyers, and other professionals were the “stars” of Charlottesville’s black community, and prided themselves on being homeowners. However, it’s unknown where the second “r” in Starr originated.—B.E.
Photo: Stephen Barling
Barracks/Rugby
The stretch of Rugby Road that defines the Barracks/Rugby neighborhood has a distinctly different feel than the collegiate party zone to the southwest. Here, the stately homes with wide yards are owned by families, not frats.
The Barracks/Rugby neighborhood is home to several historic buildings and community gathering spots, including Walker Upper Elementary School, the Crow Recreation Center, and McIntire Park at the neighborhood’s eastern edge. The bustling Barracks Road Shopping Center, full of chain stores and parking spaces, attracts traffic from the west.
Made up of several smaller neighborhoods, including the Kellytown and Greenleaf areas, Barracks/Rugby is mostly filled with single-family houses that vary according to income.
Driving through the winding, hilly streets between Rugby Road and Emmet Street is a fine pastime for anyone who’s interested in gawking at well-manicured manors. Kellytown, near Rose Hill, and Greenleaf, near Walker, have historically had more variation in both housing and income. Greenleaf contains several small bungalows that were built after World War II.
This low-density, suburban-style neighborhood is one of the city’s least accessible,and is very car dependent. Bike infrastructure is minimal, sidewalks sporadic, and vehicles often move at high speeds. The city and university are working together on a plan to make Emmet Street both walkable and bikeable, and a shared-use path is in the works for the portion of Barracks Road heading up the hill from Emmet. Public transit barely serves this neighborhood, with service on Route 8.
What residents say
Lori Shinseki is a longtime resident of Barracks Road, and she spoke highly of the neighborhood, saying she and her family care deeply about their neighbors. The addition of several new restaurants, such as Cava and MOD Pizza, has added to the area’s already serious traffic problem, but Shinseki believes speeding vehicles are a bigger concern.
“I’ve seen a car flipped upside down,” says Shinseki. But she opposes the new plan to build mixed-use bike and pedestrian paths on Barracks Road, noting that the construction is going to make it difficult to exit her driveway.
Resident Holly Mason described the area as a traditional university neighborhood, full of heavily wooded areas and home to dozens of species of animals, including “an occasional bear.”
“The neighborhood is filled with all generations who love this city,” she added, noting that most people pay little attention to this idyllic community, instead just passing through on the way to somewhere else.
Fun facts
Since residents are required to shovel their sidewalks after snowfalls, some kids, such as Shinseki’s, end up clearing large stretches of Barracks Road. (It builds character.)
Don’t go for a run on Oxford Road. The painfully steep, quarter-mile hill is the dreaded enemy of every Charlottesville High School cross country runner.—C.B.
Belmont
Hope and Shirley are long time residents of the Belmont neighborhood. Photo by Zack Wajsgras for CVILLE Weekly
In the past 30 years or so, Belmont has become one of Charlottesville’s most desirable (and expensive) neighborhoods, but that wasn’t always the case. It used to be full of white working-class families, and wasn’t welcoming to black residents (as we noted in last year’s neighborhood issue, the Ku Klux Klan robes now housed in the Albemarle Charlottesville Historical Society were discovered in a Belmont shed).
Though the neighborhood is more racially diverse than it used to be, it’s not as diverse as other areas of the city. Some longtime residents also note that gentrification is making Belmont increasingly unaffordable, for both renters and homeowners. And that influx of wealthier residents hasn’t translated to the neighborhood’s public school–at Clark Elementary, 86 percent of students come from low-income families.
Still, residents love the way Belmont feels like an old-school neighborhood, a place where people sit on their porches and converse with folks walking past. Its restaurant scene, home to beloved local spots like Conmole, Tavola, The Local, and Mas Tapas, also makes Belmont a popular destination for date nights and special occasions (though this certainly makes parking more difficult for residents). A few arts spots, like The Bridge Progressive Arts Initiative and I Feel Famous multimedia production studios, call this neighborhood home as well.
While a fashionable place to live with a small restaurant district, not all of Belmont is walkable, particularly as you head south toward I-64 or east toward Carlton. The city has invested in sidewalks to help students get to Clark Elementary, but there are opportunities to improve. Cyclists face challenges with a lack of dedicated bike lanes on Avon Street, but a pathway along Sixth Street is an excellent low-stress alternative. Transit service is currently not ideal due to a looping Route 1 that spends part of its journey in Woolen Mills and a Route 2 that only moves in one direction on its loop between downtown and 5th Street Station.
What residents say
Walkability and porch sit-ability are two of Belmont’s greatest appeals, say residents. For those in the neighborhood’s western edge, proximity to downtown means that just about anything one could want—a cold pint of beer, a hearty meal, a park, groceries, a pharmacy, a library, and more—is a short walk or bike ride away.
Neighbors tend to know one another here and there’s a general sense of folks looking out for one another (though that doesn’t mean the neighborhood’s exempt from car break-ins and stolen packages). Liz Mayer, who’s lived in here for about a decade, says that two older neighbors often leave little gifts for her and her daughter on her front porch —books, toys, small pieces of furniture. Resident Christin McGee says that when a wounded cat showed up on her street, everyone worked together to capture the animal and get him to a vet for proper care.
All of this makes Belmont a desirable place to live…and that desirability has started to edge some people out of a neighborhood they called home for years. One longtime resident says that when she moved into her current rental eight years ago, she hoped to eventually buy a home in the neighborhood. But in recent years, as she’s watched rents on her street climb by hundreds of dollars per month, and home prices skyrocket as well, that’s begun to seem like a pipe dream.
Fun fact
According to one recent UVA grad, “the only thing that can get UVA undergrads to leave Grounds is to take an Instagram picture with the ‘I Love Charlottesville A LOT’ mural on the side of Fitzgerald Tire Company.” —E.O.
Fifeville
Photo: Stephen Barling
Fifeville, a hilly neighborhood near the city’s center, feels more like several different, smaller communities, residents say. People living in the Prospect-Orangedale section, alongside Forest Hills Park, have different concerns and reference points than those in the streets just south of West Main, or along Grove and King streets, across the train tracks from the UVA hospital.
Socially, too, even next-door neighbors can sometimes talk past each other. The numbered streets closest to West Main, with their proximity to restaurants and shops and easy walk to UVA Grounds, have attracted more affluent white residents in recent years, leaving longtime black residents to fear for their future amid rising property values–and taxes.
“Most of the African American people that live there now, the older residents, feel that a piece of them has been taken away, and some of them are angry,” says Carmelita Wood, president of the Fifeville Neighborhood Association. “They can sit out on their porch, and people walk by and don’t speak to them. They feel like they don’t know them, and some of them feel like they’re being surrounded and being smothered, that people don’t know them and don’t want to know them.”
Wood says some newcomers are more outgoing, and there are efforts in the works to encourage mixing–though a planned group walking tour had to be pushed back because of the COVID-19 outbreak.
One thing everyone in the area has in common is Cherry Avenue, the main drag through the neighborhood’s center and the home of popular destinations like Tonsler Park, where basketball courts were full and residents sat on lawn chairs catching up with friends on a warm recent afternoon before many city recreational facilities were closed.
The neighborhood association hopes to make Cherry even friendlier: It’s working with city planners on a small area plan toimprove affordable housing supply, slow down traffic, and replace empty and under-used lots with the kind of development residents want–including a much-needed supermarket. Wood also hopes the plan can keep out the types of developments that residents don’t want, like the big-box hotels and apartment buildings that have clustered along the area’s edges.
Median home price
$221,900
Owners versus renters
30.8% owner occupied,; 69.2% renter occupied
Median age
31.9
Race
White: 41.37%; Black: 45.79%; Asian 6.59%; Mixed-race/other: 6.26%
Elementary school
Johnson Elementary, Clark Elementary
Accessibility
Residents of this area enjoy close proximity to downtown and UVA, allowing an easy walk, bike, or transit ride. Several planned improvement projects along both West Main Street and Ridge Street could make accessibility even better, though there are many gaps in the sidewalk network that could use attention. A new master plan could help bring that closer to reality. While many businesses can be accessed without a car, a lack of a grocery store makes it challenging to go without, but not impossible.
What residents say
Cherry Avenue has some well-loved food, including the fried chicken at the GOCO Food Mart, the popsicles at La Flor Michoacana, and the soul food at Royalty Eats, a popular relative newcomer that closed in response to the coronavirus outbreak and is now seeking support with a GoFundMe.
Cars speeding through, or cutting down residential streets as a shortcut, often make the avenue and other streets feel unsafe, residents say. Meanwhile, the number 4 bus on Cherry, which many people use to get to work or shopping, can be frustratingly infrequent. The 6, which serves the Greenstone on Fifth Apartments–the largest subsidized complex in the city–comes even less often: only once per hour on a route that some residents call confusing.
At the north end of the neighborhood John Mason, a UVA history professor who moved in roughly five years ago, says his walking commute on West Main Street can’t be beat. “When I just want to chill and hang out,” he adds, “I go directly to Mel’s.”
The downside of the increased activity along West Main, Mason says, has been frequent construction noise, including from the Quirk Hotel and the Six Hundred West Main apartment project. “I was really happy to see the Quirk finally open,” he says, “because it is now a lot quieter.”
Fun fact
The neighborhood takes its name from James Fife, a prominent farmer who owned the Oak Lawn estate–and an estimated 20 slaves–in the mid-19th century. His family sold much of the land after his death to Charlottesville Land Company, which subdivided it into “Fife’s Estates.”
Fry’s Spring/Jefferson Park/Johnson Village
Jefferson Park Avenue Extended, shown here, is a two-lane divided road lined with unique houses from the turn of the 20th century. It’s the busiest road in the Fry’s Spring neighborhood, which itself is sandwiched between the Jefferson Park and Johnson Village neighborhoods. PHOTO: Stephen Barling
Fry’s Spring, Johnson Village, and Jefferson Park are all distinct neighborhoods that, in a way, developed around one another. The Fry’s Spring neighborhood started building up in the late 19th century, on plantation lands that were sold, piece by piece, and developed over time (historically, it was also a place with racial covenants prohibiting the sale of homes to black people). Many of the large, somewhat grand houses on what is now Jefferson Park Avenue Extended were built in the late 19th and early 20th century, and other parts of the neighborhood followed soon after. Johnson Village, which sits between Fry’s Spring and Fifeville, was initially built in the 1960s as a closed neighborhood full of single-family, mid-century ranches with lots of trees and nice-sized yards. But in the past few years, it’s expanded to include other developments such as Cherry Hill, Village Place, and Beacon on 5th.
On the other side of Fry’s Spring, just over the Jefferson Park Avenue Bridge, is Jefferson Park, where various old, small houses and newer, higher-density apartment buildings serve as off-Grounds housing for UVA undergraduate and graduate students. All three neighborhoods converge at the corner of JPA and Fontaine Avenue, where a plethora of restaurants, a coffee shop, and a few bars bring these folks together.
Though close to UVA, bike and pedestrian access is limited by railroad tracks and—like neighborhoods throughout Charlottesville—areas where sidewalks and bike lanes are missing. Rolling hills are steep in many locations and may deter many cyclists while providing welcome exercise for others. Most of the neighborhood is served by one bus line (Route 4), though some in JPA enjoy close access to the free trolley. The area is low residential density so although there are some small restaurants and cafés, few businesses provide everyday essentials, which means car trips are necessary for grocery shopping.
What residents say
Nancy and Fred Damon have lived in Fry’s Spring, close to Jefferson Park, since 1978. “There’s been a tremendous amount of growth in the area,” says Nancy, including UVA’s Fontaine Research Park (technically in the county), housing geared toward students, and various neighborhood developments. Fred adds that this growth isn’t necessarily a bad thing—people need places to live—but it’s had interesting effects. For instance, as the open space gets taken over for human habitats, more and more woodland creatures (deer, woodchucks, etc.) have moved into the yards. More residents used to have robust backyard vegetable gardens, Nancy observes, but it’s harder to maintain them with so much fauna.
In recent years, the neighborhood has become trendier, says longtime resident Lorie Craddock, who also owns and operates Atlas Coffee at the corner of Fontaine and JPA. Craddock says she’s overheard some people in the coffee shop worrying about developers salivating over the remaining undeveloped pieces of land, many of which are steeply sloped and close to the watershed. Residents also hope that those who move into Fry’s Spring appreciate the character of what’s already there. Nancy Damon notes the exciting variety of cuisine available in the area: in addition to Durty Nelly’s Pub and Wayside Deli, there are two pizza spots, plus Thai, Mexican, Tibetan, Chinese, and Italian restaurants, a couple convenience stores, and more.
When the Damons moved into their neighborhood, they noticed that Johnson Village had more families than Fry’s Spring. That’s precisely why Heather Lamond Walker, president of the Johnson Village Neighborhood Association, moved into her home in 1983—she wanted her children to have nearby pals. Traditionally, the neighborhood has had Halloween parades, Easter egg hunts, ice cream socials, pizza parties, holiday caroling, and more. Some of the children who grew up here have stayed to raise their own children, says Walker, though for some families, it’s becoming harder to stay in the area as property value assessments climb higher and higher.
Fun facts
At the turn of the 20th century, an electric streetcar ran through Fry’s Spring, parallel to a road for horses and buggies, on what is now JPA Extended. A short-lived amusement park, Wonderland, opened in the area in 1907 and featured a skating rink, balloon ascensions, a live menagerie, merry-go-round, and an open-air theater.
Johnson Village counts local celebrities Charles Barbour, Charlottesville’s first black mayor, and Vincent Tornello, longtime and award-winning Charlottesville High School band director, among its residents.—E.O.
Greenbrier
Aven Kinley grew up around Charlottesville, but until she bought a house in Greenbrier in 2004, she didn’t know the neighborhood existed. Residents say this hilly, woodsy neighborhood, tucked between the 250 Bypass, Hydraulic Road, and Rio Road is one of the city’s hidden gems. “I feel like I live in the woods, but I can get to Trader Joe’s in seven minutes,” one resident says.
Home to both Charlottesville High School and Greenbrier Elementary, the area encompasses several “micro-neighborhoods” and varying architectural styles, from the tidy red brick houses by the elementary school to the larger, more eclectic homes (including a number of modernist styles) set back along the winding roads south of Meadowbrook Creek.
The neighborhood has no commercial district, and in a Facebook group recently, some neighbors lamented the lack of a coffee shop or restaurant they could walk to. Drivers, meanwhile, have easy access to almost all of the city’s major highways.
Opportunities for outdoor recreation abound. Meadow Creek, which was subject to a stream restoration project in 2011, cuts through the heart of the neighborhood and now includes a recently installed multiuse trail. Portions of the Rivanna Trail and the John Warner Parkway Trail also provide walking and biking options and access to McIntire Park, the YMCA, and the future McIntire Botanical Garden. A long-planned tunnel under the railroad tracks would connect the neighborhood’s portion of the Rivanna Trail to the rest of the city loop.
Median home price
$348,367
Owners versus renters
81.9% owner occupied, 18.1% renter occupied
Median age
47.5
Race
White: 90.33%; Black: 1.92%; Asian 4.93%; Mixed race/other 2.81%
Elementary school
Greenbrier
Accessibility
This neighborhood is perhaps the least walkable in the city, with some areas having the minimum WalkScore of 10. It feels like a suburb, without sidewalks, with no businesses in the neighborhood, and with few connections to other parts of the city. That could change in the future after work is completed on a commuter bike trail along U.S. 250 that would make it easy for people to commute from there to other points. The Route 9 bus goes through a portion of the neighborhood on its way between Charlottesville High School, UVA, and downtown, but it stops operating after 8pm, making it less desirable.
What residents say
“I can sell anyone on this neighborhood,” says real estate broker Heather Griffith, who bought her own home here eight years ago. Back then, as the new Whole Foods and Stonefield shopping center were opening nearby, she felt Greenbrier was going to be “the next big neighborhood.”
“We have deep lots, we have nature around us,” and yet “you can still ride your bike to the Downtown Mall,” she says. Many residents agree, saying they feel lucky to have big trees, trails, and wildlife (including red-tailed hawks and red foxes) in the city.
Annexed in the 1960s, the neighborhood is a mix of older folks who have lived in their homes for decades and a more recent influx of young families. “It’s such a welcoming neighborhood,” says Griffith, who mentions outdoor movie nights and an annual Halloween parade.
“Mostly if you wave, people wave back,” resident Becca Cole said on Facebook. ”I really like knowing most of my neighbors, which wasn’t true in my last city neighborhood.”
While some criticized the (voluntary) neighborhood association and the list-serve it maintains as too rule-bound, a Facebook group for parents provides another way to connect, and the neighborhood association offers $100 grants to anyone willing to throw a party to help neighbors meet each other.
The biggest complaints are the neighborhood’s lack of accessibility, including sidewalks.
“I find it frustrating that we can’t get sidewalks on Yorktown,” says Kinley, who organized a petition to build sidewalks on a particularly windy portion of the street where her family lives. “I know its super challenging terrain and it’s expensive, but it’s also very dangerous.”
Fun facts
Famous residents include jazz legend Roland Wiggins, who passed away late last year, and former mayor Satyendra Huja. Until he decamped for Chapel Hill, North Carolina, in 2018, former city manager Maurice Jones lived just two houses down from Huja, and Jones’ predecessor, Gary O’Connell, also lives in the neighborhood.—L.L.
Martha Jefferson/Locust Grove
These neighborhoods are siblings–related, but individual. They developed along Locust Street, named for Locust Grove farm, whose 1840s main house and kitchen still stand at 810 Locust St. The Martha Jefferson neighborhood, at the southern/downtown end of Locust Street, is a mix of late Victorian, Colonial Revival, bungalow, and post-WWII brick houses that visually convey its nearly 200-year history. Its name comes from the original Martha Jefferson Community Hospital, built at Locust and East High streets in 1903. The core of the neighborhood, from East High Street to the bypass, was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2008, which has helped preserve its ambience.
As the Locust Grove area developed to the north, its original 1890s Victorians were joined by smaller, largely brick houses, much of them built from the 1940s to the 1970s. Being bounded by the 250 Bypass, the Rivanna River, and McIntire and Pen parks gives Locust Grove more cohesion than some other city neighborhoods. And with a much lower density than Martha Jefferson, Locust Grove has a less urban feel, like a down-home cousin.
Martha Jefferson residents have a justifiable pride in the historic fabric of their neighborhood, although within the historic district there are restrictions on construction and renovation. Locust Grove residents like their area’s more casual and open character. But those who residein both places value the community feel of where they live, and the convenience of being within walking and biking distance to downtown.
The area around the former Martha Jefferson hospital is highly walkable, and new sidewalks along East High Street will eventually improve the pedestrian experience. New development in the area will lead to some improvements, but many people on Little High are concerned about increased congestion, while others are concerned about speeds on Locust Avenue. As you go north, the landscape becomes less friendly for walkers, but the relatively flat terrain is ideal for bikes, and most streets either have sidewalks or are quiet residential side streets. Bus route 11 passes through here to head to Fashion Square Mall, meaning the single-family neighborhoods of Locust Grove are currently well served.
What residents say
In 2010, the Martha Jefferson neighborhood Association petitioned to become Charlottesville’s first Historic Conservation District. John McLaren, the association’s current president, has lived here since 2000, and calls it “a quiet, neighborly neighborhood, where people walk the sidewalks and keep nice gardens and know their neighbors.” He says residents enjoy being a short walk or bike ride from both “the attractions of downtown and the Rivanna Trail.
Locust Grove residents value the quiet, family-friendly feel of their neighborhood, and the easy access to parkland. Northeast Park is centrally located, and its playground and basketball court are popular. David Hirschman, a 26-year resident who has served on Locust Grove’s neighborhood association, calls it “a really walk-around neighborhood—people are always out with their strollers and their dogs, interacting.” The association worked hard to construct and interconnect sidewalks around the neighborhood and ensure children could walk safely to school.
Fun fact
Maplewood Cemetery in Martha Jefferson includes the graves of both Fairfax Taylor (an enslaved man who bought his freedom pre-Emancipation, and later co-founded First Baptist Church on West Main) and Paul McIntire (the wealthy philanthropist who gave Charlottesville our now infamous Lee, Jackson, and Lewis and Clark statues.)—C.D.
Residents in Locust Grove have “a long tradition of community picnics and caroling,” notes Hirschman.—C.D.
North Downtown
North Downtown features an array of historic single-family homes, many of which have been renovated and restored. PC: Stephen Barling
At the center of the North Downtown neighborhood is Court Square, the city’s first commercial district, with buildings dating back to the 1800s. But the area is also home to what some today call the heart of Charlottesville: the Downtown Mall.
For many residents, proximity to the mall’s shops, bars, music venues, and restaurants—along with a library, city and county government buildings, parks, and local businesses—is the neighborhood’s biggest draw. Residents can walk or bike to work and not have to worry about driving home after a night out.
The area also offers a variety of housing options. North of High Street, you’ll find historic single-family homes, many of which have been renovated and restored. On the Downtown Mall, and surrounding it, the upper levels of commercial buildings have been converted into apartments, and scattered around the neighborhood are free-standing high-end condo and apartment buildings, as well as low-income communities like Friendship Court.
The perks of living downtown do have a downside: high property taxes. According to North Downtown Resident Association board member Mark Kavit, some longtime residents have recently moved out of the area because they could no longer afford the property taxes.
“I personally wouldn’t want to be a young person, and buy my first house in the neighborhood,” says Kavit, who moved into his own home more than 30 years ago.
North Downtown’s rental properties, from houses to apartments, are also getting more and more expensive, making the neighborhood even less affordable.
The closer you are to downtown, the higher the walkability and rideability. This neighborhood benefits from proximity to Schenk’s Greenway, the John Warner Parkway Trail, and the new pedestrian bridge linking the halves of McIntire Park. Some streets do not yet have complete sidewalks. Access to Charlottesville Area Transit is high for those willing to walk to Market Street. Otherwise, the tight and hilly streets of this neighborhood are not served by transit.
What residents say
Though many millennials have moved into the neighborhood’s apartments and condos, its clusters of single-family homes have not lost their “front porch culture,” says Dave Groff, who moved into the area seven years ago. “It’s a place where you know your neighbors, and let your kids run around free for hours at a time without worrying about them.”
There’s also a good range of ages, he says. “There’s people that have lived in their house for 50 years on my block. But there’s also lots of young families and young working professionals that have come in.”
Longtime resident Kavit says he and his family were also attracted to the neighborhood’s rich history and character.
“It’s an older neighborhood, which I find appealing,” he says. “I also don’t like living in the suburbs. I like knowing the people around me. It’s nice to have a community like that.”
While residents generally enjoy their proximity to the various events held downtown, Kavit says, they don’t like the large amount of noise caused by the Tom Tom festival, held in Market Street Park. The neighborhood’s residents association is working on addressing the problem.
Other issues of concern include the redevelopment of 218 West Market St., where Heirloom Development—the company behind Six Hundred West Main—originally planned to build a nine-story luxury apartment building with 134 units. City Council deferred its vote on the development’s special use permit back in December. North Downtown’s residents association hopes that, if the apartment complex is approved, it’s limited to six stories, Kavit says.
Fun facts
The neighborhood residents association hosts at least two social events a year, including wine and cheese parties.—B.E.
Venable
Some of Venable’s historic homes have been passed down between student tenants for decades. Photo: Stephen Barling
Venable is a study in contrasts: Giant industrial apartment complexes full of students tower over column-fronted old brick homes with broad porches. The University of Virginia’s most raucous corridor, Rugby Road, gives way to quiet enclaves full of winding streets and families young and old. It’s one of the city’s smallest, and most densely populated, neighborhoods.
The neighborhood has long been a home for UVA’s faculty and staff, and many people who live here are still connected with the university. It’s a prosperous place: Venable Elementary is the only school out of nine Charlottesville city schools that does not receive Title I funding, money given to schools with at least 40 percent of students from low-income families.
The school and neighborhood bear the name of Charles Scott Venable, a Confederate soldier and aide to Robert E. Lee who later taught at UVA. The history of that name only underscores how remarkable it was when nine black children desegregated Venable Elementary, which had been closed for four months in 1959 during massive resistance. Venable was the first all-white elementary school in Charlottesville to have black students attend.
Residents now hope to hold on to their history as new waves of college students crash into the neighborhood every year. “I don’t blame students,” says Rachel Lloyd, the former president of the Venable Neighborhood Association and a 20-year Venable resident. “If the physical fabric of the historic district that makes up the neighborhood is deteriorating, it’s primarily because of property owners who are not maintaining those beautiful houses the way they should…I would love to see some of those houses returned to local family ownership, so that there’s more long-term housing for long-term residents.”
The neighborhood is ideal for walking, with job centers at both nearby UVA and the Downtown Mall. The sidewalk network is relatively complete, but the area needs more provisions to protect cyclists from motorists, particularly along Grady Avenue. UVA’s many staircases make it baffling at times for people on wheels. Would-be transit riders may be confused that buses here are more likely to be operated by the University Transit Service, which is separate from CAT. With a little learning, though, this is an ideal place to go car-free and UTS service is free to Charlottesville residents.
What residents say
Locals are always rubbing shoulders with college students, which has downsides. David Cohn, 22, has lived on Rugby Road his entire life, and attended Venable Elementary. “I remember, multiple times, looking out the window of our bus as we drove to school and seeing red cups all over the lawns of some houses,” Cohn recalls, though he wasn’t sure exactly what was going on: “At the time, I think the only thing I grasped about that was that these were the houses of UVA students.”
But living up against the university has its charms, too. Every Halloween, area kids go trick-or-treating on the Lawn, and the students delight in handing out candy to pint-sized princesses and superheroes.
“The trash is a problem and the noise is a problem, but the students themselves are great, and we benefit a lot from the activity and the events that are going on at UVA all the time,” says Lloyd, who lives next to a student rental house.
The historic houses on Rugby Road and Madison Lane—many of which were built specifically for fraternities—provide a resplendent backdrop for UVA students’ college debauchery. For some students that’s wonderful, and for others it’s isolating and intimidating.
“Those houses show the wealth and the status of people living in them today and people living in them when they were built,” says Emma Hendrix, a teacher who lived in Venable while she studied architecture at UVA. “That has not changed. The architecture is very purposeful in displaying that status.”
Fun fact
The Unitarian Universalist Church on Rugby Road sits at the highest point in Charlottesville, and Thomas Jefferson almost put the Rotunda there.
Local tradition
Winston Road’s 4th of July parade —B.H.
Woolen Mills
The Woolen Mills Chapel is one of many architectural curiosities in the neighborhood. Photo: Skyclad Aerial
The industrial mill that gave the Woolen Mills neighborhood its name closed down in 1961, but the community that grew around it still remains. The history is visible in every brick. Local entrepreneur Henry Clay Marchant presided over the mill in its heyday in the mid-19th century, and he built houses nearby for his employees and family. Some of those original homes still stand, with shingled siding and front porches framed with spindled posts. At the end of East Market Street, the wistful Woolen Mills Chapel, originally built for the mill’s employees, sits across from the mill’s old power plant, a pile of bricks and broken glass that looks more disheveled every day.
At the same time, Woolen Mills is now home to some of Charlottesville’s most cutting-edge architecture. Interspersed among the old houses are new, modern homes: Boxes stacked on top of one another at experimental angles, huge glass windows, individual walls painted jaunty shades of green.
On Riverside Avenue, some of these houses sit directly across from a large strip of public housing. And just on the other side of the tracks there’s Carlton Views, a new low-income housing development geared toward people with disabilities.
There’s perhaps no more concentrated example of Woolen Mills’ confluence of past and future than the woolen mill itself, which once produced wool for Confederate uniforms and will soon become home to app developing company WillowTree. The company has signed a lease with a developer to renovate the cavernous, empty building, and the techies hope to move in to a brand-new 100,000-square-foot office space by the end of 2020.
Median home value
$253,900
Owners versus renters
59%/41%
Median age
39
Race
White: 77%; Black: 22%; Mixed race/other: 1%
Elementary school
Burnley-Moran
Accessibility
The new Wool Factory development will add density and some walkable amenities, and the county’s forthcoming Broadway Blueprint plan should improve connectivity along this corridor. One day, a bike and pedestrian bridge will span the river, connecting the city with commercial destinations on Pantops, but for now, Woolen Mills is somewhat of an island. Transit service is currently not ideal, due to a looping Route 1 that spends part of its journey in Belmont heading to Piedmont Virginia Community College.
What residents say
Bill Emory moved to Woolen Mills in 1987, and says for years he was “just obsessed with the neighborhood—it was like my full time job.” He’s put together websites and videos, gathering images and written records. That’s the kind of devotion this place can inspire.
“Everybody knows each other. It’s sort of front porch culture,” Emory says. “The personnel change, but [the culture] is still there.”
Paul Bearman has lived in Woolen Mills for eight years, and he echoes Emory’s description of a community that cares about its surroundings. “It’s a very engaged community,” Bearman says. “Lots of conservation. Big home gardens and things like that. Composting everywhere.”
Emory thinks the history of the neighborhood will insulate it from the rapid influx of WillowTree employees and new developments like Carlton Views. “We’re sort of blessed here,” Emory says. “The neighborhood is defined by the river and has some good bones that were laid down 140 years ago.”
“I’m just really excited to have it be used, have the exterior of the building be maintained,” Emory says of WillowTree’s mill project. “From a topographical point of view, it focuses more attention, and hopefully creative energy, on the Rivanna River.”
WillowTree’s plans include a restaurant, wellness center, and library, says communications agent Susan Payne. They’ll also be installing a bridge from their building across the river to the Rivanna Trail, and the company hopes employees will commute by hiking, biking, and even kayaking.
“I hope [WillowTree’s facility] doesn’t destroy a lot of the character that the neighborhood has,” says Bearman, though he’s excited at the prospect of more foot traffic. “It’s one of Charlottesville’s more forgotten neighborhoods,” says Bearman. But it might not stay that way for long.
Fun fact
Union soldiers burned down the woolen mill and adjacent railroad bridge when they invaded Charlottesville in 1864.
