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Saturated Fat

Hazardous waist
Super-sizes and not-so-super exercises have born one nation under lard

It’s a fat, fat world. More than 60 percent of all American adults are categorized as overweight or obese. And Virginia is expanding right in line with the trend. According to the Virginia Department of Health, 36.7 percent of adult Virginians are overweight and 20.9 percent obese (obese means 30 pounds or more overweight—a 5’4” woman would weigh more than 175 pounds and a 6‘ man might tally in at more than 220). One decade ago those percentages were a comparatively slender 29.4 percent and 10.6 percent, respectively.

But the price is more than personal. Studies show that bulging bellies are an inflating burden to employers in the form of medical costs, absenteeism and on-the-job performance to the tune of $117 billion annually (for more on this, see “Big numbers” on page 14). What’s worse, today’s teens and young adults could be the first generation in a century to live fewer years than their parents because of weight-related health problems.

The problem can be summed up in two words: Over-consumption and inactivity. If we’re not in line at Billy Bob’s Sizzlin’ Barbeque Buffet, we’re parked contentedly on the couch absorbing 75 hours of television per week while packing away the simple sugars and complex carbohydrates.

We literally are eating ourselves to death and not moving a muscle to do anything about it.

Some claim that this fatty epidemic really started with the Industrial Revolution, when automation began to make humans far less active. Others blame it on the 1970s, when moms went to work and frozen foods or McDonald’s became the norm for rushed dinners around the TV. Whatever the principal indictment, there is one factor that weighs heavily in all this fat: Portions are out of control.

“We’ve become accustomed to these immense portions when we eat,” says Rita Smith, who is a registered dietician at Martha Jefferson Hospital. “Inexpensive buffets have become the accepted norm, and we think nothing about getting the fast food jumbo sizes.” This kind of distortion might be acceptable if we were all consuming oranges and broccoli, but much to health professionals’ dismay, this is rarely the case.

In a study recently concluded by The American Medical Association, for instance, researchers found an average soft drink has increased to 20 fluid ounces and 193 calories, from its original 13 ounces and 144 calories in 1977. An average cheeseburger now comprises 7.3 ounces and 533 calories, increased from 5.8 ounces and 397 calories nearly 30 years ago.

“We’re consuming snack foods that are non-nutritious and high in calories, along with sodas instead of water, all day long,” says Smith, who has spent 25 years in the good food field. “These days, as opposed to 25 to 30 years ago, we eat out of bags and containers instead of at the table.”

Another alarming trend is modern-day youngsters who are not only accustomed to eating out several times a week, but just plain expect it. Fewer families today dine around the table where food types and portions can be better controlled. Furthermore, family traditions such as Mom’s apple pie are quickly becoming a thing of the past: Satisfying desserts made with real butter, milk, eggs, sugar and flour are being replaced by boxes of candy with refined sugars, chemicals and ingredients like hydrogenated oils, soy lecithin and cocoa processed with alkali. If children and teens command what’s for dinner (or worse, what’s tossed into the grocery cart) chances are higher for childhood obesity, which leads, research shows, to adult obesity.

Aggressive advertising campaigns are also to blame. The Mars Company, for instance, spent $13 million in one recent year to advertise the Snickers bar. Meanwhile, the Chicago Times reports that Burger King, the second-largest fast food chain in the nation, forks over $350 million annually for ad costs.

 

Then there’s the question of the tuber on the davenport—in other words, the couch potato who lurks inside most of us.

“People today put no emphasis on exercise and our lives are largely dormant,” says Smith, noting that the combination of healthy food and exercise (even as little as 15 minutes a day) could significantly reduce obesity’s rising trend.

Statistics also show that American neighborhoods built within the past three decades are not conducive to walking: Although 25 percent of all trips made on a daily basis are less than one mile away, 75 percent are made by car, according to The National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion.

Albemarle County has its share of such subdivisions (West Leigh, Forest Lakes), but there may be some hope for our chunky selves in the County’s much-vaunted new neighborhood model, which, in theory, designates growth areas as mixed-use, walking-friendly neighborhoods. Still, building a sidewalk and getting people to use it are not one and the same.

If we continue to waddle along our present course, severely overweight and obese Americans (and those headed in that direction) will self-destruct in five years. Maybe even less. The Center for Human Nutrition at the University of Colorado Health Sciences Center predicts that at the current rate of expansion, nearly 40 percent of Americans will be obese by 2008. Furthermore, physicians today are fearful of the growing number of young adults with diagnoses traditionally linked to aging adults, such as high cholesterol, diabetes and heart attacks.

“Life isn’t easy for overweight or obese children in so many ways,” says Smith, adding that it’s not much easier for obese adults.

As a society we need to take the stairs, walk to work and stop at one bowl of Cap’n Crunch. But Smith and others forecast obstacles along the way that have as much to do with social structure and economics as they do “Must See TV” and Big Gulps.

“Over the last 20-30 years, there’s been a whole change in family structure and food preparations,” says Smith. “We must change that.”—Kathryn E. Goodson

Slim Chance

UVA Hospital surgeons offer the severely overweight hope, but not without risk

A couple of years ago the San Francisco musical duo Matmos released A Chance to Cut Is a Chance to Cure, an album whose opening track “Lipostudio…And So On” layers the squeal and gurgle of suctioned fat with beats and loops. It’s more than a testament to our national obsession with body modification—it’s a surprisingly gorgeous piece. The surgical riddance of fat is an art form, and Americans, it turns out, are mavens of this particular grace.

Fifty years of experimentation and innovation in bariatrics, the medical field devoted to obesity, have yielded the gastric bypass operation, also known as stomach reduction surgery, in which the stomach is stapled to create a small upper pouch about 10 percent of the stomach’s original size. Surgeons then sever and reconnect the small intestine to the pouch. A smaller stomach means smaller meals are needed to sate hunger. Doctors consider the operation a final resort. Dr. Bruce Schirmer, a bariatric surgeon at UVA, and his group perform between 20 and 25 of the operations each month, each at a cost of about $35,000, and the number of surgeries keeps growing. The American Society for Bariatric Surgery estimates a four-fold increase in the number of operations performed since 1992.

“Typically, we see patients first off that have done a number of things to lose weight on their own, like Jenny Craig, some type of diet pills, Slim Fast, etcetera,” says Dr. Rebecca Evangelista, an instructor of surgery with a one-year fellowship in Schirmer’s office, “and despite those things—going to a nutritionist and having been put on weight reduction programs—patients still considered morbidly obese we evaluate for surgery.”

When asked if these patients remain overweight after the surgery, she quickly responds, “Absolutely.” Successful gastric bypass surgery, Evangelista notes, reduces a patient’s excess weight by half and allows him or her to maintain that loss, which she claims nearly 90 percent do. For example, an obese 5’10” man who weighs 236 pounds, but should weigh less than 167 pounds, could expect to maintain a weight of roughly 200 pounds, disregarding exercise and strict dieting.

“What we’re trying to do,” she says, “is get them out of the range of morbid obesity.”

The risks associated with morbid obesity, such as heart problems and diabetes, trump the possible hazards of surgery, such as infection and death, in the minds of many doctors. Most of these surgeries are performed laparoscopically—that is, with a video camera’s aid—and require no large incisions.

“There are anywhere from five to six small one-centimeter incisions. Through those incisions we use instruments and a camera to do the operation,” Evangelista says.

Not all operations go as smoothly as NBC weatherman Al Roker’s or singer Carnie Wilson’s, the celebrity poster girl for stomach reduction surgery. Avid People Magazine readers will remember the obese former member of Wilson Phillips who underwent a high-profile surgery four years ago. Avid Playboy readers can ogle Wilson’s newly svelte figure in the August issue.

Some patients die, as with any operation. According to Evangelista, between 1 percent and 2 percent of those who undergo surgery develop serious complications, which sometimes lead to death. Blood clots, in the legs especially, can break free and lodge fatally in the arteries of the lungs, known as a pulmonary embolism. Alternately, the new stomach may leak its contents into the abdominal cavity.

The Adjustable Gastric Band (AGB), another more elegant procedure, has gained popularity in Europe and Australia. The AGB cinches the stomach into an hourglass and thus also creates a small upper pouch, without staples or severed intestine. Doctors adjust the band’s aperture, injecting saline solution through a port just under the skin, to control weight loss. With either procedure, patients must strictly monitor what and how much they eat—too much food or the wrong sort will be vomited.

Besides wound infection, there are other, less dire problems associated with such rapid weight loss, like drapes of excess skin, which plastic surgeons like UVA’s Dr. Thomas Gampper can tuck.

“I just saw a teenage girl who lost 100 pounds on her own, so she had all that extra hanging skin,” says Gampper. “So we did a tummy tuck and a tuck on her arms as well. That’s really where plastic surgery falls into weight loss. A lot of people aren’t told that—that, ‘If I lose a lot of weight, what’s my skin gonna do?’ Self-image is where we come in.”

Gampper warns that liposuction—the other popular hallmark of the plastic surgery trade—involves body contouring, and while it is about the loss of fat, it is not explicitly about the loss of weight. Nevertheless, the excessively overweight occasionally approach him in the hopes that the suction wand can collapse their waistlines.

“Somebody shouldn’t even be thinking in terms of pounds, but more like ‘I don’t like a bulge here or a flap there,’” he says. “People are looking for a magic bullet. That’s an American thing. We want an easy solution—just like when we want an antibiotic for a cold, even though it won’t work. [Liposuction’s] not a carte blanche to go and eat whatever you want or not exercise.”

Apparently many Americans disagree. Liposuction ranked as the most popular cosmetic surgical procedure performed last year, according to the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery.

“It’s becoming more and more popular. I think people’s overall desire to have the figure they want is still strong and growing,” says Gampper.

Needless to say, some obese people feel trapped in their eating habits and oversized bodies: Their urge to have the figure they want and their desire for good health cannot prevail.

Evangelista sympathizes with her patients.

“The more I do of this, the less I believe that people could or should control this on their own,” she says. “People come in and say ‘I know I eat too much,’ but even so…. This is sort of the kick start to change some of those behaviors.”—Aaron Carico

 

Lunch lady land

When the lesson is about adopting a healthy lifestyle,
most schools don’t make the grade

Schools are institutions of learning. They’re supposed to be modeling the most healthy behavior,” says Peggy Brown Paviour. She’s a chronic disease consultant for the Virginia Department of Health and co-chairs the local Childhood Obesity Task Force. A recent study by the COTF found that about 42 percent of public school third-graders in Charlottesville were either obese or overweight.

Paviour is trying to find ways that schools can teach the value of healthy eating and exercise. But when cash-strapped school districts need to trim the fat out of their budgets, good food and physical education are some of the first things to go.

The weekly menu for City and County public schools reads like Jenny Craig’s no-no list––chicken nuggets, hamburgers, tacos, pizza. Some schools also offer á la carte options as well, with chips and ice cream the most popular choices.

“Don’t be too hard on us,” says Alicia Cost, nutrition administrator for Charlottesville City Schools. “Fresh foods and vegetables are expensive, and the money we get from the government doesn’t go very far.”

Charlottesville public schools charge for breakfast and lunch, which are discounted for low-income students. (Breakfast costs $1 at full price, 30 cents at reduced price. Lunch is $1.50 in grade schools and $1.75 in high school, or 40 cents at reduced price.)

The Federal government reimburses local school systems for the lunches they sell. Next year, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the Charlottesville school system will receive 21 cents for every lunch it sells at full price, $1.75 for every lunch it sells at a discount, and $2.19 for every lunch it gives free to the lowest-income students.

This money pays for food as well as staff labor and benefits. And Cost says local school officials want the meal programs to be self-sufficient, so she can’t dip into the general fund for better meals. The reality of school nutrition is that nutrition is a luxury. “We’re limited on how creative we can be,” Cost says.

More money for healthier foods isn’t necessarily the answer, says Cost, citing the well-known trait of children to refuse anything adults say is good for them. A tray full of red cabbage and carrots would likely go straight into the garbage.

“We tried to use low-fat ranch dressing once, and it bombed miserably. The kids knew we changed it,” says Cost. “We’re taking baby steps. That’s all we can do, because if the kids know what we’re trying to do, they won’t eat it.”

Paviour says kids need incentives to change their eating behaviors. “There’s a tension between what students are familiar with and what they’ll consume, and with what is healthy,” Paviour says. “Some have never been introduced to these foods. The key is to make it fun, not pedantic or judgmental.”

At Buford, for example, Paviour and Cost worked together on a project where a grant from the Virginia Department of Health was used to build a climbing wall at Buford Middle School. Then, the Buford Student Council launched a campaign encouraging students to buy baked potato chips instead of fried, with all the profit from baked chips used to buy hand-holds for the climbing wall.

Paviour cities the project as a way to encourage not only healthy eating, but an active lifestyle as well. With some schools struggling to pass Virginia’s Standards of Learning requirement, courses like physical education no longer receive much emphasis.

“Seventy-five percent of the school day is devoted to academics,” Paviour says. “The rest is divided between physical education, art, music, computers, guidance and the library. There’s no state mandate for physical education or recess.”

There’s little that Paviour and the Obesity Task Force can do to offset the ubiquity of junk food advertising or the popularity of couch-potato pastimes like video games. But with parents also succumbing to the ease of a microwave dinner and a night in front of the tube, Paviour says schools bear some responsibility to show students healthier alternatives.

“Once we get their interest, we can maybe go a few steps further to change their attitudes and behaviors,” Paviour says.—John Borgmeyer


Big numbers

Overweight people cost Americans billions in healthcare

Over the years countless studies have been done on the negative health effects of being overweight and obese. But recently number-crunchers have started looking at the more tangible consequences of unhealthy living: how it affects Americans’ checkbooks.

The Surgeon General’s website reports that obesity in the United States cost about $117 billion in the year 2000. That number varies depending on which group you look to, but compare it to the average of $157 billion spent on smoking, the great bogeyman of the American medical profession. For just $40 billion more smokers are pariahs and shunned from restaurants and airplanes while the obese are welcomed with open arms—a double-standard for the double-chinned?

Those medical bills are the result of a variety of weight-related maladies, says George Pfeiffer, president of the WorkCare Group, a Charlottesville-based company that works with businesses to promote better employee health. “Obesity is what is called a co-morbid condition. If you’re obese, it’s most likely you have a higher probability of arthritis, heart disease, Type-2 diabetes, kidney disease, gall bladder and hypertension and sleep apnea and stroke,” he says.

And those are just the most apparent side-effects. Pfeiffer says that serious weight problems have an even bigger impact on economics when taking into account indirect costs in the workplace, including absenteeism, loss of productivity and “presenteeism,” where the worker is on the job but not engaged 100 percent. “Research shows that these indirect costs can be anywhere from three to six times the direct costs,” he says.

With smoking, several players in the tobacco industry were eventually forced to shell out big bucks to some states to cover medical expenditures the companies’ products were found culpable for. But it’s more difficult for taxpayers to recoup the extra money spent on weight-related health costs, Pfeiffer says, because “the major thing is it’s not addictive. With smoking, you’re getting people hooked. But with this it’s free choice and that’s what it comes down to: There’s a number of reasons why we’re becoming an overweight society.”

Indeed, lawsuits claiming fast food giant McDonald’s products led children to a life of weight-related health problems have been thrown out of court because, as U.S. District Judge Robert Sweet said in a January 2003 decision, “it is not the place of the law to protect [people] from their own excesses.”

In the private sector, employers have been taking a more proactive role at reigning in corporate health care costs due to obesity too, Pfeiffer says. Typical corporate health-promotion programs with weight and nutrition components have a “pretty dismal record due to recidivism,” he says, and instead groups including the American Diabetes Association and others are trying to partner with businesses to offer ongoing support.

“There’s a groundswell happening now because we are in an epidemic and the economic implications of this are going to be huge,” Pfeiffer says. “A quarter of obese individuals are over age 65, and the chronic health conditions are only going to impact medical costs, and with Medicare it will be out of taxpayers’ pockets.”—Eric Rezsnyak

 

Gonna make you sweat

ACAC’s Phil Wendel has brought accessible fitness to Charlottesville’s masses

Meridia diet pills, Lean Cuisine, Cooking Light Magazine, Slim-fast, Jenny Craig, Sweet-n-Low, weight loss camps, Thigh Master infomercials, the Atkins Diet—according to Global Information, Inc., the business of staying slim is a $39 billion industry. As the economy continues to decline, the weight loss industry skyrockets.

Charlottesville’s economy is not immune to the plump business of staying slim. Besides having our own church basement versions of weight loss meetings and counseling groups, the locally owned ACAC Fitness and Wellness Center enrolls 10,600 Charlottesville members at roughly $75 per month, not including start-up fees. You do the math.

Membership numbers have grown significantly over the past five years—in 1998, ACAC had no more than 3,000 members on its books. Sole owner of the mega fitness palace Phil Wendel believes the local fitness craze is one part media, one part marketing.

“Twenty years ago the health club industry did a really poor job at portraying an image,“ says Wendel. “You’d have a giant picture of a perfectly tall, fit beautiful woman jumping in the air with a pencil thin waist.

“It was all about the price and nothing about the results.”

But over the past decade, the trendy health club atmosphere has been significantly altered. Today’s members are looking for buffer abs through weekly Body-Pump courses, higher muscle tone by attending the Athletic Conditioning Express and to drop those extra 10 pounds after weeks of deep water runs and Cycle Reebok Expresses, not obtain a date for Friday night.

Furthermore, the late 1960s and early ’70s saw gender specific gyms with dimly lit boxing rings and dusty punching bags. Women and men were only allowed in on specific days with minimal machines available and even fewer group classes.

“The decision to make these clubs available to both men and women at the same time was truly a historic event for the industry,” says Wendel.

An exercise fanatic growing weary of the search for a full-facility club to work out in, Wendel opened the first ACAC location on Pantops in 1984. (ACAC had many residences in the few years to follow, including what is now Blockbuster on Hydraulic Road and ACAC’s present outdoor pool location on Four Seasons Drive.) At that time, studies deemed 80 percent of the population inactive. Wendel knew he had to attract three-quarters of that group who were interested in getting physical, but in need of a little nudge.

“We were forced to appeal to a demographic we call ‘the interested de-conditioned,’” says Wendel.

According to Wendel, studies have shown that more than 65 percent of the population wishes they did more, while only 20 percent are categorized as full-fledged active exercisers—or involved in some physical activity 100-plus times a year. The other 15 percent could care a less either way.

But it wasn’t until Wendel opened ACAC’s flagship location at Albemarle Square, the 64,000-square-foot palatial fitness castle in June of 1998, that his business finally began to appeal to a broader base of those same interested de-conditioned.

Besides providing a massive fitness facility, indoor aquatic center, walking and jogging track and three group exercise rooms, the Albemarle Square facility offers modern-day pampering amenities such as well-appointed changing rooms, private massage studios, a café appropriately dubbed the Trackside Café and a full child care facility.

“Albemarle Square is more of a medical model,” says Wendel, “offering things like physical therapy and cardiac rehabilitation.” Which might explain its attraction to the most active growing gym demographic in America today—seniors.

Recent statistics from the National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion show that 25 percent of today’s seniors are active, compared to only 12 percent of today’s teenagers.

“It’s a great phenomenon we’ve seen within the last few years,” says Wendel. “One hundred years ago the life expectancy was 45 years old, now it’s in the high 70s.

“We’re living 30 years longer than our grandparents did and we want to make them good years.”

But ACAC hasn’t toppled the million-dollar mark solely because of its attraction to older Charlottesvillians. It appeals to entire families with numerous activities for all ages, driving home the important balance of not only shedding those extra pounds, but keeping them off. Furthermore, ACAC fulfills Wendel’s evangelistic tendencies towards proselytizing what he considers to be the last word in health: Be responsible.

“The fact of the matter is, if you’re going to eat more, you have to move more,” he says. “If we as a society are not going to manage our food intake, then we must have the discipline to exercise.”

Along those lines, ACAC has few nudging tricks up its sleeve. “When members haven’t been in within a 21-day period, we add them to what we like to call the Code Blue List,” says Wendel, explaining they get friendly phone calls from the staff asking when they’ll be coming back in. He adds that encouraging people to come back in is the key to keeping them as members. “It’s twice as expensive to get a new member as it is to keep an old member,” he says.

Moreover, Wendel and his more than 300-person staff are cognizant that the average newcomer requires three months of constant attention and vigilance on their part before she can truly exercise independently. If Wendel had one mission statement to new employees, it would be “Make the experience as pleasant as humanly possible,” knowing that adherence to an exercise plan is the toughest discipline to uphold.

“Far too many of us will exercise like hell for three months straight, then take time off,” says Wendel.—Kathryn Goodson

 

 

Meridia diet pills, Lean Cuisine, Cooking Light Magazine, Slim-fast, Jenny Craig, Sweet-n-Low, weight loss camps, Thigh Master infomercials, the Atkins Diet—according to Global Information, Inc., the business of staying slim is a $39 billion industry. As the economy continues to decline, the weight loss industry skyrockets.

Charlottesville’s economy is not immune to the plump business of staying slim. Besides having our own church basement versions of weight loss meetings and counseling groups, the locally owned Atlantic Coast Athletic Club Fitness and Wellness Center enrolls 10,600 Charlottesville members at roughly $75 per month, not including start-up fees. You do the math.

Membership numbers have grown significantly over the past five years—in 1998, ACAC had no more than 3,000 members on its books. Sole owner of the mega fitness palace, Phil Wendel, believes the local fitness craze is one part media, one part marketing.

“Twenty years ago the health club industry did a really poor job at portraying an image,“ says Wendel. “You’d have a giant picture of a perfectly tall, fit beautiful woman jumping in the air with a pencil thin waist.“It was all about the price and nothing about the results.” But over the past decade, the trendy health club atmosphere has been significantly altered. Today’s members are looking for buffer abs through weekly Body-Pump courses, higher muscle tone by attending the Athletic Conditioning Express and to drop those extra 10 pounds after weeks of deep water runs and Cycle Reebok Expresses, not searching for a date for Friday night.

Furthermore, the late 1960s and early ’70s saw gender- specific gyms with dimly lit boxing rings and dusty punching bags. Women were only allowed in on specific days with minimal machines available and even fewer group classes.

“The decision to make these clubs available to both men and women at the same time was truly a historic event for the industry,” says Wendel.

An exercise fanatic growing weary of the search for a full-facility club to work out in, Wendel opened the first ACAC location on Pantops in 1984. (ACAC had many residences in the few years to follow, including what is now Blockbuster on Hydraulic Road and ACAC’s present outdoor pool location on Four Seasons Drive.) At that time, studies deemed 80 percent of the population inactive. Wendel knew he had to attract the section of that group who were interested in getting physical, but in need of a little nudge.

“We were forced to appeal to a demographic we call ‘the interested de-conditioned,’” says Wendel.

According to Wendel, studies have shown that more than 65 percent of the population wishes they did more, while only 20 percent are categorized as full-fledged active exercisers—or involved in some physical activity 100-plus times a year. The other 15 percent could care less either way.

But it wasn’t until Wendel opened ACAC’s flagship location at Albemarle Square, the 64,000-square-foot palatial fitness castle, in June of 1998, that his business finally began to appeal to a broader base of those same interested de-conditioned.

Besides providing a massive fitness facility, indoor aquatic center, walking and jogging track and three group exercise rooms, the Albemarle Square facility offers modern-day pampering amenities such as well-appointed changing rooms, private massage studios, a café appropriately dubbed the Trackside Café and a full child care facility.

“Albemarle Square is more of a medical model,” says Wendel, “offering things like physical therapy and cardiac rehabilitation.” Which might explain its attraction to the most active growing gym demographic in America today—seniors.

Recent statistics from the National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion show that 25 percent of today’s seniors are active, compared to only 12 percent of today’s teenagers.

“It’s a great phenomenon we’ve seen within the last few years,” says Wendel. “One hundred years ago the life expectancy was 45 years old, now it’s in the high 70s.

“We’re living 30 years longer than our grandparents did and we want to make them good years.”

But ACAC hasn’t topped the million-dollar mark solely because of its attraction to older Charlottesvillians. It appeals to entire families with numerous activities for all ages, driving home the important balance of not only shedding those extra pounds, but keeping them off. Furthermore, ACAC promotes what Wendel considers to be the last word in health: Be responsible.

“The fact of the matter is, if you’re going to eat more, you have to move more,” he says. “If we as a society are not going to manage our food intake, then we must have the discipline to exercise.”

Along those lines, ACAC has a few nudging tricks up its sleeve. “When members haven’t been in within a 21-day period, we add them to what we like to call the Code Blue List,” says Wendel—they get friendly phone calls from the staff asking when they’ll be coming back in. He adds that encouraging people to come back in is the key to keeping them as members. “It’s twice as expensive to get a new member as it is to keep an old member,” he says.

Moreover, Wendel and his more than 300-person staff are cognizant that the average newcomer requires three months of constant attention and vigilance on ACAC’s part before she can truly exercise independently. If Wendel had one mission statement to new employees, it would be “Make the experience as pleasant as humanly possible,” knowing that adherence to an exercise plan is the toughest discipline to uphold.

“Far too many of us will exercise like hell for three months straight, then take time off,” says Wendel.—Kathryn E. Goodson

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Fishbowl

Sounds of silence

Hiding from cars and John Ashcroft

In the middle of McIntire Park, there’s a cluster of trees where you can settle into the green grass and lose yourself in the sounds of swishing leaves and chirping birds––provided you can sneak past the watchman who insists that stretch of the green space is for golfers only.

McIntire Park is among the last places in Charlottesville to find refuge from traffic noise, the groan and whine of engines and the hum of rubber on pavement. Given that Americans, on average, spend eight hours a week behind the wheel and a good deal more time absorbing car-related noise, how valuable is a place in the City where you can turn off the automobile?

On Saturday, July 19, Mayor Maurice Cox, Councilor Kevin Lynch, and a handful of local activists met Butch Davies––the local representative on VDOT’s Commonwealth Transportation Board––for a hike along the proposed path of the Meadowcreek Parkway, a road that’s been in planning stages for more than three decades. When (if) built, the Parkway will cut through McIntire Park and link McIntire Road and Route 250 in Charlottesville with Rio Road in Albemarle County.

On that Saturday hike, the Councilors wanted to show Davies how the new thoroughfare will destroy one of the most valuable aspects of McIntire––its peace and quiet. Once the weedy lowlands around Meadowcreek are paved over, the continuous whoosh of traffic will infest all corners of the park.

The County plans to compensate for the lost City parkland by building a narrow green strip along the Parkway. However, after trekking along the presumed path of the roadway, Davies declared the County’s proposed walking trail a poor substitute for the quiet that will disappear when the Parkway is built.

“I didn’t know it was so tight through here,” he said. “It’s not park replacement land. It’s not useable.”

Cox wants to turn a 33-acre farm along Rio Road into a park he hopes would substitute for McIntire’s lost silence. The land currently has three owners, including Clarence Wetsel, and is appraised at $2.9 million. Davies says he will use his position on the CTB to search for grant money from the State and private foundations to turn the Wetsel farm into a park.

Wetsel is anything but quiet on this subject, however, saying he is “not at all” interested in turning his farm, which the County has zoned to accommodate 15 homes per acre, into a park.

 

Silence can be a blessing when you seek it, but a noose if forced upon you.

During its regular meeting on July 21, Council considered a resolution to oppose the Federal USA PATRIOT (Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism) Act. PATRIOT Acts I and II, passed in the wake of 9/11, give Federal agencies like the FBI and the Department of Immigration and Naturalization Service broad new powers to detain people without charging them with crimes, and to snoop through citizens’ e-mails, library records and education histories without obtaining a warrant.

The City’s resolution affirms that Federal and State agencies working in Charlottesville should comply with local police procedures and not detain people without charges; the resolution also orders public libraries to post signs warning patrons that their reading habits and Internet activity can be legally monitored by the Federal government. Further, the resolution says City schools should notify people if agents use the PATRIOT Act to pry into their records. The resolution does not order anyone to break Federal laws.

The Charlottesville Center for Peace and Justice rallied a mixed bag of citizens to speak in favor of Council’s anti-PATRIOT ordinance, from aging baby boomers and religious leaders to teenagers with green-tipped dreadlocks and ragged Converse All-Stars. Carrying signs instructing others to “Speak out while you can,” the activists offered by-now standard critiques of the PATRIOT Acts: Malicious and Orwellian, the Acts blatantly conflict with the American values of free thought and speech (with tiresome hyperbole, one speaker compared the Bush regime to Nazi Germany without presenting evidence that Bush, Cheney and Ashcroft have genocide and promotion of a master race on their agenda).

Councilor Rob Schilling cast the lone vote against the resolution, which passed 4 to 1. “My vote doesn’t necessarily reflect my personal beliefs,” the Republican said. “But it appears this government body is overstepping its charter.”

Other Councilors, however, used the occasion to orate against the USA PATRIOT Act and the Bush administration generally. When the Federal government passes laws that show such obvious contempt for the American republic, the Councilors said, local government has a duty to break the fearful silence currently hanging over Richmond and Washington, D.C.

“What are we supposed to do?” asked Cox. “Are we supposed to say, ‘It’s not our job?’”

After the vote, the crowd cheered and left the building, leaving the Council to tend to the more pedestrian duties of local government––bond ratings, right-of-way debates––in quiet obscurity.––John Borgmeyer

 

Demolition by neglect

UVA takes a slower approach to razing Blue Ridge Hospital

Last spring, when C-VILLE reported on UVA’s plans to build a research park at the site of the Blue Ridge Hospital on Carter’s Mountain, it looked as if the bulldozers were ready to roll in. But now it seems UVA is employing a slower, but no less effective, means of demolition––time––and the wait has caused its projected construction partner, Monticello, to bail out of the project.

Since 1978, UVA has owned Blue Ridge Hospital, a former tuberculosis sanatorium comprising 45 buildings on 140 serene acres east of Route 20. In 2000, UVA transferred the property to its private development arm, the Real Estate Foundation, and in October of that year signed a “memo of understanding” that would lease a portion of the site to the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Foundation (which operates Monticello). In turn, Monticello planned a 95,000 square-foot visitors center where the sanatorium’s dairy barns now stand.

C-VILLE’s March 5, 2002 cover story [“Discharged! UVA and Monticello stamp out history”] pecked at the irony of UVA and Monticello, two self-proclaimed stewards of history, bulldozing a local landmark deemed “significant” and worthy of preservation by the Virginia Department of Historic Resources.

Since then, however, UVA has put its research park on the back burner, and Monticello has tired of waiting.

“The Foundation was anxious to move forward aggressively––comma––starting in the summer of 2000––period,” says TJMF director Dan Jordan, who includes punctuation as he dictates his quotes. “We’re looking at other sites already owned by Monticello––period.”

In exchange for a 35-year lease, Monticello had pledged to pay 50 percent of any demolition costs up to $3 million, but now that agreement is off. Monticello had planned to hire an architect to survey the extant dairy barns and figure out what portions of the structures could be incorporated into the visitor’s center. Jordan says that never happened. “We never got that far––period,” he says.

Jordan says UVA still has Monticello’s blessing to build the research park. UVA Vice President Leonard Sandridge says the Real Estate Foundation intends to “develop the entire site consistent with our original plans” and that the terms of the October 2000 memo are still valid, including UVA’s pledge to conduct a pre-construction survey of the site’s historical significance. Also, the memo says there can be no “bars, hotels, motels, free-standing restaurants, retail establishments and amusement centers” on the site for 20 years.

“Maybe that’s what they’re waiting for,” quips Daniel Bluestone, a professor of architectural history at UVA. He believes the Real Estate Foundation, as private owners of historic property, ought to stabilize the Blue Ridge buildings, which have sat vacant for more than two decades.

“It sounds like a strategy of demolition by neglect,” says Bluestone. “They don’t have to deal with the tough challenge of figuring out how to reuse the buildings.”

The State Department of Historic Resources has not surveyed the site since 1989, and Bluestone says that since then some of the hospital’s buildings have passed the 50-year mark that would make them eligible for historic designation.

“Some of the most reusable buildings have passed over that threshold, and the State hasn’t looked at them seriously,” says Bluestone.

But because the Real Estate Foundation is a private entity, the State can’t force UVA to protect the buildings, says Kathleen Kilpatrick, director of the State Department of Historic Resources. She says her agency would like to do an updated survey of the Blue Ridge site.

“We’re happy to work with them,” Kilpatrick says. “But once those buildings were transferred to the Real Estate Foundation, they were considered private property and not subject to our review.”––John Borgmeyer

 

Tree of life

Tracing their roots, blacks can be torn about their master-slave ancestry

Until recently, Julian Burke considered himself the third in a line of Julian Burkes going back to his grandfather. But a few years ago, in the middle of a 10-year project to write his family history, Burke stumbled onto a long-lost family secret––his light-skinned great-grandfather, also named Julian Burke, had renounced his blackness, married a white woman and lived the rest of his life as a white man.

“It was the first time anybody in my family knew there was a fourth Julian Burke. He had to shun his black family, and my grandfather held that against him the rest of his life,” says Burke. “My grandfather never spoke of his father again after that.”

Earlier this month, as the descendants of Monticello slave Sally Hemings gathered at Monticello, the contentious matter of her sexual relationship with Thomas Jefferson again took the stage. The Hemings clan has been in recent years the most visible symbol of the intimate conflict between slavery, racism and family ties. But many blacks of less famous parentage wrestle with identity questions arising from their blood relationships to men who enslaved their ancestors.

“It’s very, very common,” says Burke, who founded the Charlottesville-Albemarle African-American Genealogy Group to help blacks trace their family histories.

In Burke’s own case, for instance, after continued research, he uncovered an 1810 inventory of slaves owned by William Fitzhugh at Chatham Plantation in Stafford. It includes the values of 22-year-old Billy Burke, Julian’s great-great-great-grandfather, who was worth $400; and his 52-year-old father, Lewis, worth $200.

A white man named James Burke owned a nearby plantation, and his son, Silas, became overseer for Lewis’ family. For that reason, Julian Burke believes his family is a branch of the James Burke clan. “I don’t have proof of that, but it’s very likely,” he says.

Tracing black history is very different than tracing white history, says Burke. “Because of record keeping and literacy, white histories can go back ad infinitum. With blacks you have that wall of slavery,” says Burke. If a person’s descendants were kept by a wealthy owner, as Burke’s were, there may be records of their age and values. But since all slaves were given new names, the trail always goes cold.

“You don’t know your African or West Indian ancestors. That name is lost forever,” says Burke, who has recorded the history of both sides of his family in a pair of 400-page volumes called Lest We Forget: A Tribute to My Ancestors.

Josh Rothman, who earned his Ph.D. at UVA and now teaches history at the University of Alabama, has just written a book about interracial sexual relations in slave-era Virginia. While it was technically illegal for blacks and whites to fornicate, it was also exceedingly common, especially between masters and slaves.

“Whites knew it happened all the time,” says Rothman. “If you were genteel, you didn’t joke about it, but it made great gossip.”

Families who discover interracial ancestry react variously, says Rothman. Some blacks are outraged, some whites feel tainted. Other times, both sides are excited by the discovery.

“It changes how they see themselves, and how they see their families,” Rothman says. “It raises some deep psychological issues.”

Back in North Garden, Burke now performs genealogical research for others. He helped Lenora McQueen, who lives in San Antonio, Texas, to trace her family history back to some of Central Viringia’s largest plantations—Redlands, Carter, Hardware. McQueen says her family’s oral tradition connects them to the Hemings-Jefferson bloodline, but her research hasn’t yielded any conclusive proof.

McQueen, the daughter of a black father and German mother, says she has communicated online with some of her white relatives in Albemarle’s Lewis family. “I think I’m related to half the County,” she says. “They’ve all been very accepting…as far as I can tell.”

The master-slave origins of her family provoke mixed feelings, she says. On one hand, she says, it hurts to think of her ancestors kidnapped from their homes and shipped to America like animals. She does not know whether the relationships were consensual, but according to her research the masters sometimes left money and property to their mixed-race children.

“It’s very confusing. It’s hard to know what to think,” McQueen says. “I look at the slave masters as family. There is actual blood between us.” ––John Borgmeyer

 

Art from the heart

Tim Rollins on the craft of high-octane teaching

In the early 1980s, conceptual artist Tim Rollins, UVA’s Arts Board Resident Artist for 2003, took a public school teaching job in South Bronx, New York. Raised in rural Maine, the experience was one he calls “a real eye-opener”—wild dogs, broken windows, crumbling school building walls and crack use running rampant. After the first day, Rollins promised himself he’d stay only two weeks.

But that’s not how it worked out. More than 20 years later, Rollins still calls South Bronx home, continuing to spread the word with his Art and Knowledge Workshop, appropriately nicknamed K.O.S. (Kids of Survival), around the United States and the world.

With numerous works of K.O.S. art hanging in more than 50 museum collections worldwide, K.O.S. is now recognized as an artistic saving grace among kids who hate school, but long for creativity in their lives.

The rest is art history.

Kathryn E. Goodson talked with Rollins, who was recently appointed Distinguished Professor at Philadelphia’s Drexel University, on the final day of his three-day multimedia workshop for UVA Art Museum, “Summer Arts @ the Museum 2003.” An edited transcript of that interview follows.

 

Kathryn E. Goodson: How did you get into this notion of saving kids through art?

Tim Rollins: When you see people with those weird bumper stickers that say “Art works” or “Art saves” or whatever it might be, it’s truly no joke. For children who are academically at risk—art works.

With the K.O.S. kids in South Bronx, they needed this program, and I’m from Maine, where if you need a barn, you build a barn. So we built the program. We raised money, used my salary and got a small seed grant from the National Endowment of the Arts. I was so angry that these kids were just being tossed aside that I got them painting. I used a high-energy teaching method and mixed works of art with the classics of English literature. The kids loved it, sometimes staying until 9 at night and coming in on the weekends.

But the work is no good if I’m the only one doing it. Workshops like this must be everywhere and open to everyone, not solely the kids that can afford it. Arts need to be the core of every curriculum.

 

You’ve conducted multimedia arts workshops with kids from Lawrence, Kansas, to the Navajo Nation, to Tjorn, Sweden. How would you rate the job we’re doing with Charlottesville kids in relation to the arts?

It feels good to me. I love the idea that the UVA Art Museum makes such a connection with a broad range of kids in this area through the making of art. I also love Southern kids—they’re so much more polite than their Northern counterparts. But they’re also surprisingly open, enthusiastic and eager to try new things.

I have to say that the last time I was visiting in March and April, Charlottesville High School was putting on its version of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which was really outstanding. If that’s any indication of the level of excellence, then yes, it’s a good job.

 

Some of your workshops, including the Summer Arts program at UVA, focused on A Midsummer Night’s Dream. What’s the reason to interweave an art program with plays?

As far as using A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I love kids’ initial excitement about plays—they immediately detect the magic of the complex plots. I always want to recreate that through art. In this group for instance, the kids watched the play and instantly all of them related to the character of Puck. So I had them find a flower—a magical flower unlike any other—and through drawing and painting they created their flower onto the pages of the play, and all the individual pieces the kids made will be displayed as one large work here at the Museum in the fall.

Someone recently remarked to me that my classroom was like a Pentecostal tent revival. My teaching style involves a lot of drama and energy, certainly. But teaching for me is not only a gift, it’s a calling. I use teaching as a medium.

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Fishbowl

Making the green grade

Local pols score on environmentalists’ report cards

Call it the age of the report card. Children have to pass a standardized test to graduate from school, Top 10 lists abound for everything from all-time movies to worst hairdos of the past century, and TV shows live and die by the ratings they receive.

If it can’t be quantified…well, it might as well not matter.

It’s the same for elected leaders, who see scores of scorecards issued after their legislative sessions end. Designed like voter guides with a narrow focus, such reports scrutinize all the big issues—business, health care and the environment, to name a few.

Among the most recent of State and local interest is a report card released this month by the Virginia League of Conservation Voters, which for the past four years has rated State lawmakers’ environmental records.

The league, a lobbying arm for nonpartisan environmental groups that can’t make political contributions without losing their non-profit status, looks at key floor and committee votes it perceives as decisive and uses them to issue a score—from 0 percent to 100 percent—for each member of the General Assembly. The results are posted online at www.valcv.org.

Not surprisingly, lawmakers from the Charlottesville area, where sprawl-control and land preservation are hot tickets, faired better than average. Democratic State Delegate Mitchell Van Yahres, an arborist who owns a tree-pruning and -cutting business, got a solid 86 percent, raising his four-year cumulative percentages to 83 from 71. Republican Delegate Robert Bell dropped a notch this year, to 64 percent from 67 percent, but beat out most in his GOP cohort.

And State Senator Creigh Deeds, a Democrat who likes to say he lives "in the country," scored a perfect 100 percent, earning the "Legislative Hero" title from the conservation league. But even he takes the praise with a dose of reserve.

"I’m pleased to have been honored," he says, "but you have to keep this stuff in perspective. The AFL-CIO grades lawmakers. So do Pat Robertson’s people. You can’t think about how you’re going to be scored on votes before you take them."

Political observers say elected officials love to shy away from scorecard results, good or bad, because tooting their own horn on one platform could come back to bite them in the rear on another. But local environmentalists say this report and others like it help voters who yearn for objective data on issues they care about.

"Politicians like to say it doesn’t really count," says Kay Slaughter, senior attorney with the Southern Environmental Law Center and former City Councilor. "They all say, ‘I’m for apple pie. I’m for the environment.’ But this gives people something to really talk about. This is their record. You can look at it and get a pretty good sense of where they are."

Slaughter, who stresses her organization doesn’t endorse or support any candidates, was herself the subject of a vote tallied in this year’s environmental report card. The House committee measure effectively preserved her post on the state’s Water Control Board.

It may have sent a message that conservationists can’t be kept out of the Commonwealth’s regulatory loop, but it’s also a good example of the relatively few and nuanced votes from which the scorecard draws its hard-number conclusions.

Another such vote included a successful bill that paves the way for the State to buy land for a future interstate highway, I-73, which the Virginia League of Conservation Voters opposed. It was the only "wrong" vote on Van Yahres’ report card.

He says he supported the bill not because he’s in favor of the new highway, but because he likes to "keep our options open." The fact that the acquisition is also a good investment for the State doesn’t hurt, Van Yahres says.

Lisa Guthrie is director of the Virginia League of Conservation Voters and the brains behind the scorecard. She says she has already begun to see legislators use the report as a campaign tool, a good sign of its effectiveness. Still, she acknowledges the shortcomings behind using grade-school tactics to analyze a complex system.

"This is the best we can do in this situation," Guthrie says. "This is just a snapshot."—Robert Armengol

 

Tree of life

Tracing their roots, blacks can be torn about their master-slave ancestry

Until recently, Julian Burke considered himself the third in a line of Julian Burkes going back to his grandfather. But a few years ago, in the middle of a 10-year project to write his family history, Burke stumbled onto a long-lost family secret––his light-skinned great-grandfather, also named Julian Burke, had renounced his blackness, married a white woman and lived the rest of his life as a white man.

"It was the first time anybody in my family knew there was a fourth Julian Burke. He had to shun his black family, and my grandfather held that against him the rest of his life," says Burke. "My grandfather never spoke of his father again after that."

Earlier this month, as the descendants of Monticello slave Sally Hemings gathered at Monticello, the contentious matter of her sexual relationship with Thomas Jefferson again took the stage. The Hemings clan has been in recent years the most visible symbol of the intimate conflict between slavery, racism and family ties. But many blacks of less famous parentage wrestle with identity questions arising from their blood relationships to men who enslaved their ancestors.

"It’s very, very common," says Burke, who founded the Charlottesville-Albemarle African-American Genealogy Group to help blacks trace their family histories.

In Burke’s own case, for instance, after continued research, he uncovered an 1810 inventory of slaves owned by William Fitzhugh at Chatham Plantation in Stafford. It includes the values of 22-year-old Billy Burke, Julian’s great-great-great-grandfather, who was worth $400; and his 52-year-old father, Lewis, worth $200.

A white man named James Burke owned a nearby plantation, and his son, Silas, became overseer for Lewis’ family. For that reason, Julian Burke believes his family is a branch of the James Burke clan. "I don’t have proof of that, but it’s very likely," he says.

Tracing black history is very different than tracing white history, says Burke. "Because of record keeping and literacy, white histories can go back ad infinitum. With blacks you have that wall of slavery," says Burke. If a person’s descendants were kept by a wealthy owner, as Burke’s were, there may be records of their age and values. But since all slaves were given new names, the trail always goes cold.

"You don’t know your African or West Indian ancestors. That name is lost forever," says Burke, who has recorded the history of both sides of his family in a pair of 400-page volumes called Lest We Forget: A Tribute to My Ancestors.

Josh Rothman, who earned his Ph.D. at UVA and now teaches history at the University of Alabama, has just written a book about interracial sexual relations in slave-era Virginia. While it was technically illegal for blacks and whites to fornicate, it was also exceedingly common, especially between masters and slaves.

"Whites knew it happened all the time," says Rothman. "If you were genteel, you didn’t joke about it, but it made great gossip."

Families who discover interracial ancestry react variously, says Rothman. Some blacks are outraged, some whites feel tainted. Other times, both sides are excited by the discovery.

"It changes how they see themselves, and how they see their families," Rothman says. "It raises some deep psychological issues."

Back in North Garden, Burke now performs genealogical research for others. He helped Lenora McQueen, who lives in San Antonio, Texas, to trace her family history back to some of Central Viringia’s largest plantations—Redlands, Carter, Hardware. McQueen says her family’s oral tradition connects them to the Hemings-Jefferson bloodline, but her research hasn’t yielded any conclusive proof.

McQueen, the daughter of a black father and German mother, says she has communicated online with some of her white relatives in Albemarle’s Lewis family. "I think I’m related to half the County," she says. "They’ve all been very accepting…as far as I can tell."

The master-slave origins of her family provoke mixed feelings, she says. On one hand, she says, it hurts to think of her ancestors kidnapped from their homes and shipped to America like animals. She does not know whether the relationships were consensual, but according to her research the masters sometimes left money and property to their mixed-race children.

"It’s very confusing. It’s hard to know what to think," McQueen says. "I look at the slave masters as family. There is actual blood between us." ––John Borgmeyer

 

 

Art from the heart

Tim Rollins on the craft of high-octane teaching  

In the early 1980s, conceptual artist Tim Rollins, UVA’s Arts Board Resident Artist for 2003, took a public school teaching job in South Bronx, New York. Raised in rural Maine, the experience was one he calls "a real eye-opener"—wild dogs, broken windows, crumbling school building walls and crack use running rampant. After the first day, Rollins promised himself he’d stay only two weeks.

But that’s not how it worked out. More than 20 years later, Rollins still calls South Bronx home, continuing to spread the word with his Art and Knowledge Workshop, appropriately nicknamed K.O.S. (Kids of Survival), around the United States and the world.

With numerous works of K.O.S. art hanging in more than 50 museum collections worldwide, K.O.S. is now recognized as an artistic saving grace among kids who hate school, but long for creativity in their lives.

The rest is art history.

Kathryn E. Goodson talked with Rollins, who was recently appointed Distinguished Professor at Philadelphia’s Drexel University, on the final day of his three-day multimedia workshop for UVA Art Museum, "Summer Arts @ the Museum 2003." An edited transcript of that interview follows.

 

Kathryn E. Goodson: How did you get into this notion of saving kids through art?

Tim Rollins: When you see people with those weird bumper stickers that say "Art works" or "Art saves" or whatever it might be, it’s truly no joke. For children who are academically at risk—art works.

With the K.O.S. kids in South Bronx, they needed this program, and I’m from Maine, where if you need a barn, you build a barn. So we built the program. We raised money, used my salary and got a small seed grant from the National Endowment of the Arts. I was so angry that these kids were just being tossed aside that I got them painting. I used a high-energy teaching method and mixed works of art with the classics of English literature. The kids loved it, sometimes staying until 9 at night and coming in on the weekends.

But the work is no good if I’m the only one doing it. Workshops like this must be everywhere and open to everyone, not solely the kids that can afford it. Arts need to be the core of every curriculum.

 

You’ve conducted multimedia arts workshops with kids from Lawrence, Kansas, to the Navajo Nation, to Tjorn, Sweden. How would you rate the job we’re doing with Charlottesville kids in relation to the arts?

It feels good to me. I love the idea that the UVA Art Museum makes such a connection with a broad range of kids in this area through the making of art. I also love Southern kids—they’re so much more polite than their Northern counterparts. But they’re also surprisingly open, enthusiastic and eager to try new things.

I have to say that the last time I was visiting in March and April, Charlottesville High School was putting on its version of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which was really outstanding. If that’s any indication of the level of excellence, then yes, it’s a good job.

 

Some of your workshops, including the Summer Arts program at UVA, focused on A Midsummer Night’s Dream. What’s the reason to interweave an art program with plays?

As far as using A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I love kids’ initial excitement about plays—they immediately detect the magic of the complex plots. I always want to recreate that through art. In this group for instance, the kids watched the play and instantly all of them related to the character of Puck. So I had them find a flower—a magical flower unlike any other—and through drawing and painting they created their flower onto the pages of the play, and all the individual pieces the kids made will be displayed as one large work here at the Museum in the fall.

Someone recently remarked to me that my classroom was like a Pentecostal tent revival. My teaching style involves a lot of drama and energy, certainly. But teaching for me is not only a gift, it’s a calling. I use teaching as a medium.

 

 

Solomon’s choice

Venable dilemma pits two bad ideas against each other

A diluted form of busing—that relic of the desegregated South—apparently continues in the City, and school officials have proposed a solution that could itself engender new problems. On July 17 at 7pm, the City School Board will meet to discuss a redistricting proposal that affects roughly 24 students from the 10th Street/Grady Avenue neighborhood, an area predominantly poor and black. Rather than walking to class at Venable Elementary on 14th Street, these students attend Greenbrier Elementary, distantly located off 29 North, where, it is generally understood, they benefit from smaller teacher-student ratios than obtain at Venable. The children of the 10th Street/Grady Avenue neighborhood, who it is proposed should begin attending Venable in August, have been subject to a lengthy bus ride to Greenbrier since at least the early 1980s, according to Ron Hutchinson, superintendent of City schools.

"I think probably racial and socioeconomic factors were taken into consideration," Hutchinson says of the way district lines were drawn back then. "It would be speculation on my part that those factors were involved."

Speculation also surrounds the timing of the proposed remediation.

"The only reason that I know is what school board members have stated publicly," says Venable Principal Malcolm Jerrell, "that students who live as close to Venable as these students should have the option of attending their neighborhood school."

Off the record, some Venable parents who question the wisdom of the proposed change intimate that School Board members want to urbanize Venable, which consistently outperforms other City schools on standardized tests and has relatively few poor children on its rolls.

But the School Board’s official reasoning for wanting to redistrict the 24 kids has more to do with the students’ convenience than the tangled issues of race and class.

"The reason it came forth is the proximity to the school," says Linda Bowen, chairperson of the City School Board. "It just did not make sense that these kids are being bused right past Venable to Greenbrier."

Still, Venable’s current ratio of students to teachers might most concern all parents involved. The school’s strained human resources, a point made clear by the table at right, is matched by a lack of physical space to accommodate new classes.

"Right now what we would have to do is turn the staff workroom into a classroom if an additional class were added," says Jarrell.

Hutchinson insists that if these new students were to be incorporated into Venable, classes would stay well within Virginia’s standards of quality, the State’s acceptable student-to-teacher ratios for each grade.

None of the officials seemed particularly concerned about either the influx of new students—a number consistently depicted as comparatively small, despite the overhaul of a staff workroom—or the implications of redistributing a group of poor black children into a school where sheer numbers suggest they’ll get less individual attention.

"A lot of people are assuming things," says Dede Smith, the co-chair of the City School Board. "Those who have voiced concerns are overestimating the impact."—Aaron Carico

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Fishbowl

Lining up the shot

Court Square Ventures brings unwatched college sports to the tube

Chris Holden might have been a rock star. There’s a glimmer in his otherwise sober eyes when he remembers trying to put himself through medical school playing late-night gigs in a piano bar—the name escapes him—somewhere in downtown Richmond.

“I would prop my physiology book up on the piano,” he says. “I was studying nephron functions while playing old standards.”

Then like so many young, starving artists, Holden gave up his music to start a family and make some real money.

But not as a doctor. He bailed out of med school after three months and began working his way up the corporate ladder, first in advertising, then in new media. The Information Age had barely begun at the time. Today Holden finds himself leading a Charlottesville investment firm’s foray into the world of College Sports Television.

One of three partners in Court Square Ventures, a private investment group tucked into an old brick building off Jefferson Street, Holden is playing point guard for the company’s multimillion-dollar stake in CSTV, a new 24-hour cable network dedicated to broadcasting all the college sports you don’t see on ESPN. Court Square aims to make its money back and then some when the network gets bought up or goes public.

Available on DirecTV’s sports package, College Sports TV is backed by as much as $125 million in private investments and has sealed deals with most of the nation’s top college conferences. Major investors include Coca-Cola and big sports stars like Tiki Barber. CSTV’s chief was one of the brains behind ESPN Classic.

So what’s a sleepy outfit like Court Square Ventures, with a portfolio featuring software developers and fiber optic firms, doing getting in on a big enough piece of the action to earn a seat on the network’s board of directors? For Holden and his partners, who typically invest up to $5 million in tech startups, the confluence of good concept, savvy management and strong financial support was irresistible.

“It was just obvious to me what a great idea this was,” Holden says. “There are so many great college sports out there—sports with a passionate following—that don’t get the coverage they deserve.

“Everywhere I go I meet someone who has fallen in love with it,” he continues.

Holden played lacrosse in his days at Davidson College and says it would have been “thrilling” to compete for a national, if niche, audience. And it’s precisely with those sports that have little broadcast exposure, from women’s hoops to wrestling, rowing and soccer, that CSTV hopes to score.

Viewers should expect to find the network on every major cable provider by the end of the year, Holden says. And for all those Wahoos wondering why the Atlantic Coast Conference hasn’t signed a broadcasting agreement yet, have no worries. League officials say CSTV and the ACC are still working on a deal that won’t infringe on the prior TV contracts the conference has to uphold.

College Sports TV debuted in April with post-game analysis of the NCAA men’s basketball championship, but it is largely steering away from the big money-makers that March Madness and Division I football have become.

That isn’t to say its coverage lacks sophistication or depth. Its producers are just looking elsewhere for the heated rivalries and good stories—in early July, the network premiered a documentary on Diane Geppi-Aikens, the women’s lax coach at Loyola who led her players to the Final Four while fighting brain cancer.

Over the weekend you might also have seen a taped broadcast of UVA’s Chris Rotelli receiving the Tewaaraton Trophy, the highest lacrosse honor in the country, at an award ceremony in Washington. Dom Starsia, who just coached the Cavaliers to a national title, says CSTV’s coverage “put a lot more sizzle” into the lax quarterfinals this season.

“I could tell they paid quite a bit of attention to the quality of the production,” Starsia says of the crew from CSTV. “I certainly think it added to the glamour of the weekend. I know our players all enjoyed it.”

What he didn’t know was that a group of guys with deep pockets back home were helping to make it happen. Holden admits CSTV is an unusual venture for Court Square, but he maintains that his own background in media, heading one of Rupert Murdoch’s subsidiaries in the 1990s, has helped bridge the gap.

It doesn’t hurt to know what it takes to please an audience, either. Holden still plays the piano and a little guitar when he can. He also jams with his old band, the Blue Dogs, whenever they come to town.

“There are definitely days when I wake up and say, ‘Boy, would it be fun to be up on that stage,’” he says. But it wasn’t until Holden joined CSTV gurus for opening night at the network’s swanky studios in Manhattan that he realized how bright life could actually be behind the spotlight.

“It was one of those really exciting nights you can only get in New York,” he says. “There were athletes, cheerleaders, celebrities. No glitches, no mistakes. Lots of food. Lots of libations.”

Sort of like being a rock star after all.

—Robert Armengol

 

Under development

Massive new project will enlarge 10th and Main in the name of Holsinger

If you want to see the future of Charlottesville, keep your eyes on W. Main Street. There, the ever-growing UVA is expanding eastward, as the City figures out how to extend the Downtown Mall’s quaint stroll-and-shop vibe further along West Main. Now a project is in the works that could test how a private developer balances UVA’s thirst for office space and the City’s sense of aesthetics.

Developer Kim Heischman is a key player in a major project planned for W. Main Street, with a footprint that effectively stretches from the corner of West Main and the 10th Street Connector down to the railroad trestle that crosses 10th. Heischman apparently also has purchased the University Station post office on 11th Street, and that land likely will figure into the project, tentatively dubbed “Holsinger Square” in recognition of the famous photographer who chronicled Charlottesville in the early 20th century.

The project’s lead architect, John Matthews of the firm Mitchell/Matthews, says Holsinger Square will be a “major project. We’re talking hundreds of thousands of square feet. We’re talking big dollars,” he says.

As he describes the project, Matthews says all the right things, from the City’s point of view––using hyphenated buzzwords like “mixed-use” and “pedestrian-oriented” that the City’s Board of Architectural Review loves to hear.

“We’re interested in getting more vitality and increasing the foot traffic on W. Main Street,” says Matthews, whose firm also headed the design team for UVA’s North Fork Research Park, a poster child for northward sprawl. “We’ve been a major instigator in putting the individual above the automobile.”

In fact, Matthews has already made his Holsinger Square pitch to the BAR. He brought renderings before the Board in July 2000 for a preliminary hearing––an informal “heads up” that allows developers to gauge BAR reaction before trying to push a big project through the City’s bureaucracy.

At that meeting, Matthews indicated that the brickwork on UVA’s Fayerweather Hall would be the model for the Holsinger façade. According to meeting minutes, the BAR seemed satisfied with Matthews’ design, although BAR member Ken Schwartz commented that he wanted the building set back further from the road. He also encouraged the developer to include more residential apartments in the design.

After the preliminary hearing, Heischman didn’t pursue a formal application. The BAR’s issues about setback “were easy to overcome,” says Matthews, but the developer wanted to wait to see how the City’s new zoning ordinance, which was already being discussed back then, would affect the development options. Also, the delay gave Heischman time to acquire the post office. Matthews says his client likely will take the project to the City within the next three months.

Matthews says the building will feature below-ground parking, with retail space on the ground floor and a mix of offices and residences above.

With UVA rapidly expanding its medical facilities, and with the City encouraging more public-private partnership with UVA, especially in the biotechnology sector, the demand for office space in Holsinger is likely to have lucrative results for Heischman. The City, however, trying to increase its housing supply, will likely continue to press Heischman to include more apartments.

“One thing that concerns us is the glut of new apartments that will be coming online in the next 18 months,” says Matthews on that point, referring specifically to Coran Capshaw’s 225-unit apartment complex near the Amtrak station.

“The market will tell us what combination of residential and office will go there,” Matthews says. “The question is what is best for that street and best for the community that also makes money.”––John Borgmeyer

 

Dub moon rising

Easy Star’s crazy diamond shines on with Pink Floyd reggae tribute

Perhaps it was fitting that when Lem Oppenheimer decided to stake the fate of his company on a half-baked idea, he was, um…naturally inspired at the time.

That way, when he explained his plan to produce a reggae version of Dark Side of the Moon, and people wondered what the hell he was smoking, Oppenheimer could honestly respond: some good shit, man.

“A lot of people probably had the same idea at some point or another,” says Oppenheimer, who lives in Charlottesville and is one of four partners in Easy Star records. “But nobody else acted on it.”

Last February, almost exactly 30 years after the debut of Pink Floyd’s landmark concept album, Easy Star records released Dub Side of the Moon, which recasts the psychedelic masterpiece in the soulful cloak of vintage reggae. Now, an idea that seemed just crazy enough to work, plus the enduring popularity of the original Dark Side, is providing Oppenheimer’s homespun company with worldwide notice.

As a teenager in New York City’s Greenwich Village, Oppenheimer discovered the languid bliss of Floyd, and spun DSOTM nearly every day before junior high. By the time he moved to Charlottesville in 1997, he had fallen in love with the mellow gold of reggae music. He and three friends–– Eric Smith, Michael Goldwasser and Remy Gerstein––each put together $5,000 of their savings and founded Easy Star records. Easy Star invested in both original recordings and reissues of out-of-print records by Sister Carol and Sugar Minott. The company released 11 CDs in all.

Then, in 1999, Oppenheimer was hustling around Manhattan on task for Easy Star, with DSOTM in his Walkman and THC working its magic in his frontal lobe. He imagined that Floyd’s unhurried soundscape and philosophical depth would fit perfectly with the tight rhythms and Rasta vibe of reggae. Pink Floyd gave Easy Star permission to remake their record.

“The only thing we couldn’t do was knock the cover art,” says Oppenheimer, so the company created original artwork with a red, gold and green beam passing through a lunar eclipse.

With credit cards and loans from family and friends, Easy Star began creating the album with some of New York’s finest studio musicians––and the best from these parts, too. Local bluesman Corey Harris performs guest vocals on “Time.”

Dark Side of the Moon is one of the most popular albums of all time––it spent nearly 14 years in the Top 200 selling records in America. The challenge for Easy Star was to capitalize on Dark Side’s popularity without offending fans with a cheesy rip-off.

“It was definitely a make-or-break moment for us,” Oppenheimer says.

Recording the music took three years, as the musicians strived to re-create every nuance of Dark Side, including snippets of spoken-word and the album’s legendary synchronicity with The Wizard of Oz. Then, Easy Star gambled again by hiring the publicity firm Shore Fire, whose clients include Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello and Norah Jones.

The risk paid off after the disc was released in February. A marketing blitz from Shore Fire got Dub Side of the Moon favorable reviews in all the right magazines––Entertainment Weekly, VIBE, Playboy, High Times. Rolling Stone panned the record, but called it “bong-tastic,” a phrase that made it into Easy Star’s promotional material.

Then, the National Public Radio program “All Things Considered” aired an extremely favorable review in March. Suddenly, Dub Side hit No. 3 on Amazon.com’s sales chart. Since then, Easy Star has sold 16,000 copies of the record and distributed more than 40,000 throughout America and Europe. Dub Side remains the top-selling reggae album on Amazon.

In July, the musicians who recorded Dub Side will begin touring as the Easy Star All-Stars. The show will include original reggae tunes plus Dub Side in its entirety. The tour kicks off at Starr Hill Music Hall.

So far, Easy Star has not spoken with any members of Pink Floyd, but guitarist Roger Waters sent the company a fax saying that he had received the CD and read the liner notes. Otherwise, Waters remained neutral, saying “it’s not my policy to endorse any covers of my material.”

Like his three label-mates, Oppenheimer, who works at Musictoday, continues to hold down his day job. He hopes the success of Dub Side will turn Easy Star from a hobby into a bill-paying career.

“Bob Marley will always be popular,” Oppenheimer says. “Maybe someday the government will legalize pot, and then we’ll really be in business.”––John Borgmeyer

 

Dogmatic decisions

Canine trainers match dogs with owners at the SPCA 

Lisa Rodier-Yun bursts through the door wearing a gruesome Halloween mask festooned with wild, straggly black hair. One of the room’s occupants, Shelley, is cautious of the intruder at first, backing away confused. But she warms up, her tail resuming its healthy wag. She’s passed the “visit from a stranger” test, as well as the “food bowl” and the “doll child” tests, indicating that the nutmeg-colored shepherd mix needs a little work, but overall is a good candidate for adoption.

Such is the determination of Sherri Lippman, a 30-year veteran dog trainer who performs temperament testing on new arrivals at the Charlottesville-Albemarle Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA). It’s her job to predict how a dog will behave in an adopted home—after all, a sudden bite over the food bowl could easily send a pooch back to the overcrowded animal shelter.

“The worst thing we can do is to adopt out a dog that will come back the next week,” says SPCA executive director Carolyn Foreman.

That explains in part why the work of Lippman and her partner Rodier-Yun is important: Matching dogs with adopted homes they’re best suited for reduces canine recidivism, and helps to squash misconceptions about pound puppies behaving badly.

Lippman has been performing temperament tests for two years at the shelter, coming in once a week to visit with an average of four to six dogs. She’s also the owner of Citizen Canine, which provides instruction and behavioral counseling to pooches in Central Virginia. She holds degrees in behavioral psychology and counseling, which she put to use in 1970 raising German shepherds as helper dogs for the visually impaired, and since has worked at local obedience clubs and trials.

Lippman and Rodier-Yun receive no money from the SPCA for their temperament testing, opting to volunteer at the Rio Road W facility. They work in the laundry room, occasionally interrupted by shelter workers taking laundry to and from the dryer. In a perfect world, the regularly scheduled tests would have no disruptions, a prospect that may be in the offing at the SPCA’s 27,000-square-foot new building currently being built behind the existing one. If fund-raising goals are met, the new headquarters could open in March 2004.

But for now, the duo’s current case is shepherd mix Shelley, who arrived at the shelter as a stray on June 7 after being picked up by animal control with a choke collar but no identification. Lippman and Rodier-Yun study every move Shelley makes, as even a dog’s slightest motion has meaning.

Shelley makes eye contact with Lippman and Rodier-Yun as she wags her tail in a wide, S-shaped motion—encouraging signs. Lippman strokes Shelley three times, neck to tail. Shelley leans against Lippman’s legs, looking up at her, smiling.

Lippman murmurs and coos to Shelley as she checks her teeth five times in a row, holding Shelley’s upper lip for five seconds each time. This test for dominance aggression is critical to home placement.

“At one point or another,” says Lippman, “owners have to get something out of their dog’s mouth.”

But too much prodding makes the dog uncomfortable—Shelley softly nips Lippman’s hand, tugging on her leash.

“She’s not loving being restrained, and she’s too mouthy, so she can’t be with small children,” says Lippman.

“She’s really smart though, and willing to work,” adds Rodier-Yun.

But there’s no guarantee about whether or not Shelley or any other dog will be perfectly suited to a selected home. “None of this is failsafe,” says Lippman. “But it’s very, very informative.”

“We have a responsibility to deny adoptions that may not be the best match for certain families,” says shelter manager Beth McPhee. “It’s a must.”—Kathryn E. Goodson

Categories
News

Dirty Secret

All that separates Tina Awkard’s front lawn from a chemical graveyard is a few hundred feet and a chain link fence. Yet Awkard, who moved here with her children three months ago, wasn’t aware that the “waste and lagoon treatment center” next door is a toxic dump with a file at the Environmental Protection Agency that’s as thick as sludge.

Welcome to Newtown, a place where streams meander, children play and the main street is the bucolic Summerest Lane, tucked into the foot of Afton Mountain. It’s about the last place on earth you’d expect to find a Superfund site—an area so contaminated by toxic wastes the EPA considers it a threat to human health. Yet, demographically, this tiny town with its population of about 35 black families is all too typical of one. The pastoral nature of the century-old village is matched only by its poverty.

Charlottesville lies barely 20 miles east, but few of its residents have ever heard of Newtown. You won’t find it on any “10 best places to live” list, but thanks to Greenwood Chemical Company, you will find it on the National Priorities List among the nation’s dirtiest sites.

That puts this otherwise picturesque village overlooking the Rockfish Valley right in line with a dirty national trend. Numerous studies have shown that toxic sites are disproportionately found in poor and minority communities.

The term “environmental justice” first gained prominence in 1994 with an executive order issued by President Clinton that directed Federal agencies with programs affecting public health and the environment to meet the nondiscrimination requirements of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. In effect, it merged civil rights with environmental policy.

But justice is not what happened in Newtown.

For years, people lacked the resources to do much of anything but watch and wait, according to Janet Sims, who grew up on Summerest Lane and now lives in Charlottesville. At the other end of the short stretch of road sat the 18-acre chemical company, the community’s only industry, which employed less than a dozen workers at a time. For years, “nobody cared,” says Sims, of the neighborhood’s reaction to the factory that perched like an elephant on their doorsteps. Apathy was understandable. Families here struggled to obtain everything from food to fuel. Many had already lost their homes to make way for the construction of Interstate 64 in the late 1960s.

In 1992, at the age of 44, Sims received the first definitive diagnosis of a long-standing lung condition, sarcoidosis. Recently, the disease worsened and she underwent a lung transplant, moving to Charlottesville to be near the hospital. Another term for the condition that reduces lung capacity and has left her gasping for air at times is “minority lung disease,” as it occurs more often in blacks. Yet it isn’t considered hereditary, and the American Lung Association can only suggest the cause of the disease to be “an immune system defense reaction against some unknown substance.”

Sims vividly recalls dark, mysterious clouds that filled her years in Newtown. By the 1970s, her mother had begun to worry, she says, while their neighbor, Don Nobles, started telling people to wash everything touched by the crystal residue that drifted down like snow from the plant after explosions occurred, sometimes several times a month. A neighbor’s dog, seen wandering on the unfenced site, died the same afternoon, its legs paralyzed.

On another occasion Sims and her son, searching for a Christmas tree, wandered onto the property and encountered one of the five waste water lagoons. “Solid green,” she says, describing the impenetrable surface where a dead squirrel was floating. The smell was unbearable.

“We were afraid to breathe.”

Throughout Greenwood Chemical’s decades of production, regulatory agencies were also questioning what was in the waste lagoons’ stew. Built in 1947 by former Dupont chemist F.O. Cockerille, the company, which went through three changes of names and owners over the years, considered its full inventory a matter of “trade secrets,” according to the EPA. Even after closing in 1985, the company refused to disclose its products to State and local officials.

Many of the chemicals were pesticides and pharmaceutical agents. Former workers, including Sims’ friend Percell Carr, told the EPA about the production of military gases. Some said Agent Orange might be buried there. In fact, it was impossible to identify many compounds, according to EPA documents. Those identified are a litany of poisons with unknown effects if mixed. They include carcinogenic solvents like trichloroethylene, volatile organic compounds such as toluene and deadly inorganic chemicals like arsenic, another carcinogen. Documents from the Bureau of Toxic Substances show that the company used between 1 metric ton and 10 metric tons of cyanide each year.

But when the plant “went off,” as Sims describes the explosions that often had people jolting from their beds at night, no one asked what made up the thick smoke congesting the heart of Newtown. The question that echoed through the 10 or so households on Summerest Lane was “Where do we go?” says Sims.

On various occasions the fire department would arrive and tell everyone to clear out. “How far?” asks Sims, incredulously. “Where were we supposed to go? How far was far enough?” Residents had been warned by the Crozet Fire Department that the explosions represented a hazard even to Crozet, four miles away.

Closer still was the town of Greenwood with its sweeping lawns and patios—and drinking wells. It was hard to know what to fear most: the fire, ash or water. All around, fields irrigated by groundwater produced products they consumed, including milk, meat and fruits.

Like residents, State and County officials were casting a wary eye on the company long before the EPA arrived on the scene. It was determined in the early ’70s that the plant was responsible for fish kills that occurred in Stockton Creek whenever rain would cause the poisonous lagoons to purge, leading to absolute stillness along several miles of streambed. Not a sign of life, said an inspection report from the State Water Control Board. A note of alarm runs through several such reports as County officials demanded answers to the massive aquatic kills. Even cows in nearby fields perished mysteriously.

Greenwood Chemical continues to drain into a stream that runs along Summerest Lane, a tributary to Stockton Creek that makes its way to Mechum’s River, the South Rivanna—and the County’s drinking water.

 

Greenwood Chemical’s dubious business practices eventually caught the attention of the EPA. But a 1982 “Desktop Preliminary Assessment of Greenwood Chemical Dump,” a report by a New Jersey consulting firm for the environmental agency, reveals that no action was taken. The document compiles the findings of two inspections by the Virginia Department of Health’s Division of Solid and Hazardous Waste Management, one of four agencies in charge of regulating the company. The others included the State Water Control Board, Virginia Department of Health and the Bureau of Occupational Health.

In 1978 and again in 1979, a State inspector had found “no problems with the site.” The inspector did find, however, 60 to 70 55-gallon drums in a 30-foot-long trench the owner claimed were there for “further chemical breakdown.” Had the official raised an eyebrow and requested further investigation, one of the company’s many dirty secrets might have been unearthed: Hundreds of barrels leaking wastes.

The EPA later hauled away more than 600 drums, while documents state that in 1985 aerial photos revealed an area where drums had been buried in trenches for more than two decades.

Other secrets had already been exposed: There were numerous reports of fires, explosions, injuries—even fatalities. And even though the inspection noted the 1971 fish kill caused by the plant’s waste water lagoons, there was no mention of these unprotected holding ponds, themselves. No barrier prevented the seven poison lagoons from spilling over when it rained—or seeping into the ground.

The consulting firm’s desktop assessment is filled with inane contradictions. While the “apparent seriousness of the problem” wasn’t even marked as “low,” and the box checked as to seriousness was “none,” next to “waste characteristics” the document’s preparer didn’t check “inert” or “unknown,” but rather, “toxic, ignitable and highly volatile.”

These reports concluded with a strange recommendation: “No action needed (no hazard).” If that weren’t enough to dismiss the chemical company from scrutiny, the assessment provided an even better argument for doing so. The consulting firm, Ecology and Environment, Inc., declared that the State hadn’t followed up on, or prosecuted the plant for, the vast fish kills in Stockton Creek.

Case closed.

Residents, though, weren’t assessing the hazards of a toxic waste plume from behind a desk. They were in their backyards. Groundwater beneath the steeply sloped, 18-acre chemical site links to all of the drinking water aquifers within three miles.

Beneath the surface, the aquifers joined Greenwood and Newtown, neighborhoods which at one time didn’t even share the water table. Back when blacks weren’t allowed to attend Greenwood’s well-equipped school, Newtown was without running water.

That changed after the Newtown Community Center was born in 1980. Fostered by the Monticello Area Community Action Agency, an anti-poverty group, the goal was to bring services to the isolated village. Pictures show Newtown residents hard at work fixing up the former schoolhouse across the road from the Greenwood plant. The plan was to create a meeting hall and bring it the amenities the school never had: a toilet and well.

Later, chromium would be detected in the community well, bringing a whole new meaning to the issue of running water.

“Everyone here, without exception, gets their water from a well,” says Greenwood resident Scott Peyton, who was assistant director of the Greenwood Citizen’s Council, which served as a community liaison with EPA in the early stages of cleanup. When testing of the chemical property’s soil, rock and water got underway in 1987, it showed extensive migration of contaminants into all of these materials. On-site tests showed pollutant levels that were “off the scale,” says Peyton.

EPA documents corroborate this, describing chemical concentrations near one lagoon that exceeded the capacity of the equipment. But on January 5, 1988, the agency announced in a public meeting that sampling of residential wells had not detected contaminants related to the site.

“It was a notion the community held very suspect,“ says Peyton. “Testing of private wells was always a source of controversy.”

In fact, correspondence to residents revealed that the wells initially contained substances found in the EPA file on Greenwood. A letter to Newtown resident Don Nobles from the EPA claims that the following chemicals were detected in his drinking water in 1987: Cadmium, 14 parts per billion (EPA’s “safe” level is 5ppb), the pesticide Endrin and a concentration of lead—a suspected carcinogen—of 123ppb, more than twice the maximum level allowed in public drinking water in 1987, and more than eight times what is allowed today. In the same letter, though, the EPA said that since the samples were from an outdoor spigot, they might not be of the same quality as the water inside the home. A follow-up test was done and the water declared safe for consumption.

But the news was not reassuring. The EPA still cannot say just where off-site contaminants might migrate at any given time.

Joe Washington also received letters concerning his well. He and his wife have lived in the same house in Newtown for 33 years, but Washington says he wasn’t too worried because he lives on the other side of the freeway—more than half a mile away. Nevertheless, initial tests detected low levels of cyanide (12 ppb) in his drinking water. In 1988 the EPA considered that amount below the less stringent “health standard” of 200ppb, but today that guideline level has dropped to .2ppb, according to Paul Shoop of the County Rivanna Water and Sewer Authority.

Greenwood resident Peyton considers the site an ongoing threat to groundwater, despite the treatment facility which has been in place the past few years. That structure is expected to remain for 35 years, according to Gary Funkhouser, who works at the site 40 hours a week as an employee of OMI, Inc., a Denver-based waste water treatment company. He isn’t surprised by the lengthy clean-up.

“It took 40 years to get that way,” he says.

But EPA documents state that the groundwater on site may never return to drinking water quality.

“There’s a limit to how deep you can dig,” says Peyton. “You can pump and treat, but rain will continue to carry it through.”

EPA spokesman Phil Rotstein agrees, conceding that the wastes can not only travel for miles, but in unpredictable patterns due to the area’s complex geology.

 

Soon after Greenwood Chemical became an official Superfund site in 1987, the EPA held meetings at the Newtown Community Center, today a ramshackle hollow along Route 690. By then people were voicing health concerns related to both water and airborne particles. Ailments like rashes, sores and headaches were attributed to the plant.

Jimmy and Frances Steppe have lived next to the community center and across the road from Greenwood Chemical for more than 40 years. Frances recalls attending at least one meeting, but for the most part says she’s kept to herself about it. “I’ve always been concerned, but people have their own way of dealing with things. When it comes to testing and getting involved, I don’t do that.”

Steppe adds that she knows many people in Newtown who have gotten cancer. Off the top of her head, she says she can think of 12 in this village of about 35 families. Peyton also claims that there seem to be a large number of degenerative diseases in the area, while Janet Sims knows of five others from Newtown who’ve been diagnosed with the same lung disorder she has—sarcoidosis. Some have died from the disease, she says. Based on the average occurrence rate cited by the American Lung Association, the expected number of cases in this tiny population would be less than one. Sims’ son also had childhood seizures, and other residents report diseases ranging from asthma to cancer.

Jeff McDaniel, who works at the County Department of Health, received a grant a few years ago to look into how Greenwood-Newtown has fared since the plant’s closure, but says that a survey sent to 300 residents was returned by only three. Steppe claims she did receive—and return—a survey, but later got a letter stating that she hadn’t returned it. No follow-up has been pursued.

But it wasn’t the contamination of residential wells or the public water supply or concern for the health of a community where children play in almost every yard that ultimately sent Greenwood Chemical and its shareholders packing.

On April 18, 1985, Sims was walking up Summerest Lane to meet her son at the bus when a huge explosion rocked the plant 50 feet away. Soon after, four men came running out, engulfed in flames, she says. They were racing toward the road, screaming, while a fifth man followed, throwing water from a pail at them as they fled.

Terrified, Sims ran next door to the church where her friend, a member of the rescue squad, was working that day. After calling for help, they carried sheets and water back and had the men sit down. Sims was horrified: The flames were out but the men’s faces were raw and their boots and clothes had melted into their skin, which was peeling from their bodies in strips. The women had to cut away the charred material before wrapping them in sheets soaked in water.

Conscious and talking, the men asked in disbelief, “How could this happen to us?” recalls Sims. Looking closer, she realized that she was looking into the torn face of a friend she’d known for years.

“It’s me, Janet…Maurie.”

“It took them forever,” says Sims, suddenly angry, remembering the long wait for the ambulance.

None of the four men, who ranged in age from 26 to 41, survived: Maurie Clark, Keith Woods, John Harper, Charles Ward.

Three years earlier, following an inspection of Greenwood Chemical, the Virginia Department of Labor and Industry recommended, but didn’t mandate, that the company comply with a law it was found to be violating. The law, recognized at both State and Federal levels, requires the installation of spark-proof electrical equipment.

What caused the explosion and fire that left nine children fatherless and four men sitting by the road, bodies seared, wondering in their last moments how this could happen to them? The accident was caused by electrical equipment lacking State-required safety devices, say EPA reports.

There were no goodbye ceremonies for Greenwood Chemical Company. What the company buried may never be laid to rest. Not for Janet Sims, not for Newtown or its once pristine surroundings. It gave the world a few more products people apparently can’t live without. More pesticides, more drugs, all with a grand tab well over 30 million dollars and climbing, says the EPA. Then factor in the hidden costs: death, loss and sickness are still dirty secrets. The toll will rise, but no one will ever know for sure. You can’t prove it.

It seems Greenwood Chemical was counting on that.

Categories
Uncategorized

Fishbowl

Stripped searches

Supreme Court ruling will mean local library users can peek no more

If your plans at the public library include reading an e-mail from samantha35@adultfun.com or glancing at www.cumshots.com, you could find your mission thwarted, thanks to the paternalistic justices on the Supreme Court. On June 23, in a 6-3 ruling, the Court upheld the Children’s Internet Protection Act, a Federal law that makes anti-porn filters a condition of Federal subsidies to libraries. The decision will certainly impact older library patrons as much as its younger ones. Locally, the decision likely means that an additional 45 Internet computers will get outfitted with the anti-smut devices.

“About half of our terminals are already filtered, and they have been for years,” says John Halliday, director of the Jefferson Madison Regional Library (JMRL) system, of the library’s 90 Internet computers.

The library, which maintains branches in places as far flung as Greene and Louisa counties, as well as in Charlottesville and Albemarle, currently offers patrons the option of choosing filtered or non-filtered computers, and has for some time. The Supreme Court ruling allows librarians to unblock filters at adult users’ request, but does not require librarians to do so.

“We have a board of trustees, and they decided you’d have a freedom of choice policy,” Halliday says. He hopes that policy passes Federal muster but realizes more might need to be done.

“If it turns out that we have to put filters on all of the computers,” he says, “then the library board has a decision to make: Do they want to go ahead and do that, or do they want to do it their own way?”

That way may lead the library to rely heavily on the bounties of bake and book sales. JMRL’s precarious financial situation (the State cut its budget 22 percent over two years to $650,000) likely will force it to comply with the Feds. And Halliday worries about the filters’ unintended side effects.

“Since we’ve had experience here at the library over the past few years with filters, we know that they do filter out good information, like medical information, and that they do sometimes allow in bad information like pornography,” he says.

Indeed, Halliday pinpoints what critics consider the statute’s greatest flaw, that such a broad net hobbles researchers by blocking legitimate websites. More importantly, they say, it cuts into the First Amendment.

“The court made it clear that you cannot prevent adults from having unfettered access to the Internet,” says Kent Willis, the executive director of the Virginia ACLU. “What we dislike most is that there is a chilling effect, because adults will have to ask for the filter to be turned off.”

Willis also picks up the scent of financial blackmail. “The unfortunate effect is that it’s creating a battle,” he says. “It’s drawing battle lines between public libraries and the Federal government.

“The Federal government with its large income ends up, for all practical purposes, controlling the purse strings of most public libraries.”

On a recent afternoon, patrons at the Central Library on Market Street expressed little similar anxiety, seeming either unruffled or relieved by the Court’s ruling.

“I suppose it’s vaguely worrisome, but at the same time, there are other ways to get the Internet,” said Steve Suetonius. “I understand the desire to protect children from illicit materials.”

Jalis Al-Hindi, a Park Street resident and a mother, agreed with the ruling. “One time I was upstairs with my kids, and somebody hadn’t clicked off of it [pornography], and some lady with big boobs popped up on the screen. I didn’t want my kids seeing that,” she said.—Aaron Carico

 

Room of her own

Four months later, homeless woman finds shelter—and unexpected compassion

Appearing on the cover of C-VILLE four months ago [“Charlottesville’s new homeless,” March 11] earned Lynn Wiber a dose of local fame. After the working college graduate told her story of going homeless in Charlottesville, she found herself confronted by strangers who recognized her from the article. Some slipped her dollar bills, some chastised her, and others wanted to save her soul. Her conclusion: Most people want to help but don’t know how.

“A lot of people approached me saying they didn’t realize this happened in Charlottesville,” Wiber says. “Homelessness is invisible. People were surprised because everything seems so nice here.”

But Charlottesville fits into a national trend: A souring economy combined with a robust housing market means that more working people, especially those with families, are living on the street.

For example, 36 percent of Charlottesville’s homeless population describe themselves as currently employed, and 51 percent have worked recently, according to a recent survey by the Thomas Jefferson Area Coalition for the Homeless. In 2002, the Coalition reported that 36 percent of the City’s homeless were families with children––this year, the number has climbed to 47 percent.

Wiber says she told her story to show people how an unwise decision can combine with bad luck to drive people into homelessness, even those who seem securely on their feet in this affluent town. The response she’s received offers insight into how Charlottesville looks upon its poor.

After the article appeared, Wiber says, “the first thing that happened was the Christians came out. Someone called me and started reading Bible passages over the phone.”

One man, she says, walked into Barnes and Noble, where she works, and confronted her. “He called me a pathetic loser,” says Wiber. “He said that I just want people to give me money and take care of me.

“He was probably a Republican.”

Wiber expected some hostility. What surprised her, she says, was the sympathy.

“A lot of people told me this had happened to them, or somebody they know,” she says. Wiber described a couple that pressed $5 into her hand, telling her they had lived in their car for six months. One woman told Wiber about her brother––a successful stockbroker cleaned out by divorce who was now living in her spare bedroom.

Wiber’s experience after going public seems to support the conclusions of a national survey released on June 13 by Charlottesville’s Pew Partnership. The survey found that the general population tends to underestimate the extent of social problems like hunger, homelessness and illiteracy in their own communities. For example, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development says that on any given day more than 3.5 million people––including 1.4 million children––are homeless, and in dozens of cities a minimum-wage worker cannot afford fair market rent for a two-bedroom apartment. Yet the Pew Partnership estimates that only 42 percent of the general public believes affordable housing is a “serious” local problem.

Some public projects currently in the works aim to address homelessness and affordable housing. The Thomas Jefferson Area Coalition for the Homeless, with a three-year, $213,000 grant from HUD, is installing a Homeless Management Information System. Scheduled to be unveiled this fall, the computer database will link regional public assistance providers, enabling them to more easily connect clients with social services and jobs.

Also, the City has formed a Housing Policy Task Force charged with addressing questions of affordable housing. The group has just begun to talk, says Task Force member and Charlottesville Police Sergeant Michael Farruggio. Some advocates have questioned whether the Task Force will look out for poor residents. Farruggio says he will encourage the City not to cluster low-income housing, as it has done previously with public housing projects.

“It does not work to corral people in lower socioeconomic levels into dense pockets,” Farruggio says. “You have increased crime in those areas, and it’s not fair to the children and families that are forced without an option to have to deal with that.”

Wiber is currently living with a disabled woman and is off the streets for the time being. Her homeless experience has been a “learning experience,” she says. One lesson? Social problems will be hard to solve until people get over their fear of the poor.

“A few people said it made them uncomfortable to read about homelessness,” Wiber says. When you’re poor, she says, “people don’t touch you. They don’t know what to do with you. That isolation has been one of the hardest things to deal with.”––John Borgmeyer

 

Street legal

Balloon artist has law-and-order suggestions

Carl Carter was practicing his violin 15 years ago on a Seattle street when someone threw a coin into his case. Thus began his career as a street musician. These days, his nearly 2-year-old Charlottesville act has evolved a bit—namely in the form of balloon animals, fuzzy slippers, tri-colored wigs and a rubber nose.

Kathryn E. Goodson recently sat down with Carter, the 44-year old man frequently seen on the Downtown Mall singing in falsetto while guiding a mechanical pig. Carter currently rests his head at the On Our Own drop-in center on Fourth Street. His tips average $20-$100 a day, depending on time and location. He spends the bulk of it on Greyhound bus tickets to Alexandria, to restock balloons and toys.

“The prices here are outrageous,” he says. He has a business license and a mission: to spread laughs, wisdom and goofy song lyrics. Oh, yes, and to obtain a cell phone charger.

 

As a street musician, why did you choose to entertain children?

Kids are pure, fun. Well, until that corrupt point comes. Ages 1 through 9, they love me. There’s a market out here for kids—just look at all the things to do down here. It’s all for adults. Maybe once a week or so, a kid can have a little fun, get their face painted? That’s not enough.

As for the costumes, the balloons, it’s just my form of free expression and fun. I’ve learned to be content with who I am.

 

How did you learn to play so many instruments?

I grew up in the ghettos of Chicago. I decided in high school I wanted more than the gangs and violence. I got involved in the orchestra and stuck with it all through high school. During the following years I became an honor student. I was the only one in my family to graduate from high school. My mom was an alcoholic so it wasn’t like I was going to get an enormous amount of support.

But times were different then. Kids were not like the cowards of today. Even in the ghettos we never had school shootings—kids still had respect for their parents. The standards for kids have really, really been lowered.

I’m not a huge fan of affirmative action. I am a fan of the welfare-to-work plan. And school vouchers. Trust me, it’s hard to do well in school and learn when you’re worried about being beat up when you come out of the front door.

 

How has your attitude of “entertaining the Downtown Mall” changed since you were recently robbed by some of the very people you’re trying to please?

The bottom line no one wants to face here is that we are not hard enough on crime, period. That’s one thing Republicans do right—they’re a lot harder on crime. The other thing? No one cares about black crime on blacks.

We desperately need a volunteer crime task force here. I’ve lived in Canada, Mexico, Florida, Alexandria—every other neighborhood and community’s got one. The police say they’ve got a shortage and can’t handle it all, we need to create a volunteer one. But when I say, “Let me volunteer, let me help,” I get no reaction at all. If it’s training I need, then give me some training. I’ve got a cell phone and all I need is a charger. I’ve been trained to use an M-16 but I cannot get a phone cord and charger?

While we were in the midst of war, I heard plenty of people saying they’d love to go defend their country. I say we need to take care of home first. More than 51 percent of these crimes are gang-related. And still, you’ve got neighborhoods that won’t speak up, people that won’t speak up. You’ve got to get to that point when you’re willing to stand up.

All I’m hoping for at this point is a phone for 9-1-1 purposes. I’m always on the Mall, I see everything that goes on down here. If we can stop some of this crime, we’ll have a much better community.

 

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News

What is it about this town? You can check out, but you can never leave.

These are interesting questions, but earlier today, I was copying a file to disk and the computer ate it. Now the computer will neither open the file nor read the disk. How can Charlottesville expect you to write encomiums to its greatness when your computer files are being eaten? Not that you care. No one in Charlottesville cares about my lost file. You want to hear about Charlottesville instead. Fine. Charlottesville is the best city of its size in central Virginia. Charlottesville is the longest one-word city name in America. Charlottesville means trees, nice people and a decent quality of life. Charlottesville means red bricks and white columns, which remind us of red bricks and white columns.

We’re here because Charlottesville is a place where we can work and live and date and have friends and theoretically copy our files to computer disks without the computer eating them. In most places you have two areas of operation: you and your intimate associates—lovers, friends, family—and a nebulous “society” out there in the distance—the stuff on TV, the stuff in newspapers. In New York, there’s your intimate circle and the untouchable myth of New York beyond. In Richmond, there’s your intimate circle and the untouchable myth of America beyond.

But in a town of this size with a public space like the Mall, a middle ground opens up. A space where you’re not on intimate terms but still influential, a space between the near and the far. That means Charlottesville isn’t starkly divided between the Somebodies and the Nobodies. Everybody is sort of a Somebody, and nobody is entirely a Nobody. (The down side is that nobody is entirely a Somebody and everybody is something of a Nobody.) The Mall has grown so much in popularity it’s becoming more like a vague outer circle (You should have been here back before people like you showed up!), but you can still learn things about group behavior you can’t learn watching TV. You can even write what you’ve learned if the computer you’re using doesn’t eat the goddamned file.

Anyway, it’s part of American culture to complain about where you live. “There’s nothing to do.” “The people are stupid.” Here is never as cool or good or rich or cultural as There. The people you know can’t possibly matter as much as the people out there in the vague beyond. It’s also part of American culture to say all places are the same—it’s what you make of them—or that you should be loyal to the place you live. There’s truth in all these statements, meaning that they’re all basically bullshit. People may be the same everywhere, but they’re organized very differently and that means a lot. Yet, no matter where you go they use pretty much the same file-eating computers.

We say we leave Charlottesville because life is too comfortable here or because we want a bigger challenge. But I think the truth is, we move to Charlottesville (or move back to Charlottesville) because we want the comforts and challenges of Charlottesville. We move to other places because we want the comforts and challenges offered by those places. We leave here to escape having to deal with the bad aspects of the middle ground and return to enjoy the good aspects of the middle ground. We leave for better paying jobs and come back for the trees. We leave to learn and come back to learn, and learning is harmless enough if done in moderation.

Charlottesville is no longer a cheap place to live, but it’s not yet an expensive place to live. It’s no longer as funky or unique as it was, but it’s certainly not yet homogenized, Republican America. And as long as our token Republican City Councilman keeps his Yanni haircut and Village People mustache, there’s hope. We may be overly pretentious and proud of our home, but we’re not yet entirely lost in booster myth. The glass is half full. It just might not be half full of the drink you want.

Lately I haven’t much liked Charlottesville. First, what’s with the rain? It didn’t rain last year. Second, if this were such a great city, why are my computer files being eaten? What’s with computers? They can send a shuttle into orbit and almost bring it home, but they can’t make a damn computer that works.

Charlottesville is not a monkey on our backs. Charlottesville is a caged gorilla trained in rudimentary sign language. We stay because we keeping hoping it will assemble a sentence of more than three words. Even if it did, the way things are going, the computer of America would probably eat it.

Joel Jones is an actor, director and playwright who covers theater for C-VILLE Weekly.

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Fishbowl

License to ill

City demands fees from failing business

When Jeffery Spinello opened a letter from the City and read that he needed a permit to go out of business, he thought someone was pulling his leg. “In the past 15 years, I’ve opened and closed or sold 12 businesses,” says Spinello, who runs Main Street Gallery, perhaps better known as the Thomas Kinkade store, on the Downtown Mall. “I’ve never heard of anything like this. I came from San Francisco, and I thought California had the craziest laws.”

In early June, Spinello posted signs advertising a going-out-of-business sale at his store, which sells paintings by Kinkade as well as works by other artists. On Tuesday, June 17, Spinello received a letter from Levingston Plumb, a business property inspector for the City.

The letter, which was obtained by C-VILLE, said: “We noted that you have advertised ‘Going out of business’…and at this time we are unable to locate a valid permit for this activity. Please stop by our office ASAP to obtain the permit, and we will need a list of your inventory.”

The letter also demanded a $15 fee for the permit, and threatened Spinello with a Class 1 misdemeanor if he didn’t comply. (Other Class 1 misdemeanors include maliciously maiming someone’s pet, keeping standing water on private property, or hunting on private land without permission.)

Spinello called the City’s department of revenue and discovered the letter was no joke. He paid his $15 fee. In return he obtained a paper saying he had 30 days to close his store. Irate, Spinello, who had planned to take more than a month to close operations, enlarged Plumb’s letter and stuck it in his store’s window, beside a “For Lease” poster.

“It’s ridiculous,” Spinello says. “I find it appalling that the hardworking people who make that tough decision to go out of business have to get one more nail in their coffin.”

Lee Richards, the City’s commissioner of revenue, says his department isn’t trying to kick entrepreneurs when they’re down. The point of the permit, he says, is to prevent businesses from luring customers with phony “going out of business” sales while continuing to stock merchandise on the sly.

“The City has had this ordinance for years,” says Richards. He admits, however, that Charlottesville generally hasn’t had a problem with businesses pretending to fold. “But there was a shoe store on the Mall once that was going out of business for years,” says Richards.

Bob Stroh, co-chair of the Downtown Business Association, says he hadn’t heard of the permit until Spinello told him about it. “It makes sense that the City would want to protect the public,” says Stroh. “But the fee seems like adding insult to injury.”

Albemarle County requires a similar permit, but charges no fee.

Spinello contends the “selective enforcement” of the permit policy is unfair. “When I called the City,” he says, “they told me I wasn’t being singled out, I just happened to get caught.”

Richards says the City “isn’t in the business of catching anyone.

“If they advertise in the newspaper or they have a sign up, we do the best we can with the resources we have to get in touch with them and explain the issue,” he says, adding that the City issues an average of two permits a year.

“They’re not looking at the paper very hard,” Spinello retorts.

After a business closes, the City refunds it the unused portion of its yearlong business license, the cost of which is based on an enterprise’s profits. If owners can’t vacate their buildings within the 30 days required by the permit, they can pay another $15 for another 30 days.

All this is cold comfort to Spinello, who plans to go into real estate and is leaving the gallery business before he incurs debt. “At least I know the City must be even more broke than I am, if they really need to take 15 bucks from a guy who’s going out of business.”––John Borgmeyer

 

The road less traveled

Hillsdale extension could ease K-Mart’s cut-through burden

Monica Vierna and Kevin Kotlarski deserve some kind of trophy. The pair has not only attended nearly every City Council meeting in recent weeks, but they’ve often stayed to the bitter end, absorbing more public policy discussion than any civilian should.

Vierna and Kotlarski have been fighting VDOT’s plan to widen Fontaine Avenue to three lanes from two, in the process taking a chunk out of their front lawn, including a towering pine tree. In the past, Council hasn’t been able to give the Fontaine activists much good news, given VDOT’s powers to build where and when it wants, regardless of local opinion.

At Council’s regular meeting on Monday, June 16, the Fontaine duo were there again, but this time they got some good news for their trouble. Late in the meeting, Council approved a letter to VDOT Commissioner Philip Schucet––who has promised to make the multi-billion-dollar agency more responsive to local transportation agendas––asking VDOT to shift $1.5 million from the Fontaine project to a different road project on Hillsdale Drive.

Hillsdale Drive runs from Greenbrier Drive north to Rio Road (in keeping with Charlottesville’s annoying double-identification trend, Hillsdale is known as Northfield Road north of Rio). The City wants to extend Hillsdale south from Greenbrier to Hydraulic Road, just east of K-Mart, in an effort to relieve congestion at the Hydraulic/29 intersection.

VDOT has already committed $5 million to the Hillsdale project. If the agency agrees to transfer funds away from Fontaine, Council likely will spend the additional $1.5 million to acquire rights-of-way from property owners—but that figure could fall short. Although no definite route for Hillsdale has been chosen, probably it will cut through the Seminole Square shopping center, which is owned and managed by Great Eastern Management Company.

Because the new Hillsdale will improve access to Seminole Trail, eliminating the “K-Mart cut-through” drivers often use to get to Seminole Square Theater, Councilor Kevin Lynch is hoping landowners will be willing to donate the rights-of-way through their property. “We almost need to do that to make this project feasible,” he says.

Great Eastern CEO Charles Rotgin, Jr., has made no commitments, but he sounded an optimistic note.

“We’re very supportive of the City’s efforts to extend Hillsdale,” he says. “It’s a road that’s been needed for many years. We’ve indicated our willingness to be quite accommodating with respect to right of way.”

K-Mart leases its lot from Brandywine Realty in Jacksonville, Florida. Brett Moore, a property manager there, declined to comment, saying negotiations were still preliminary.

Indeed, very little about the road has been decided. Lynch denies the rumor that the City would build the road on top of Meadow Creek. He also says the road probably would not interfere with the nearby Rivanna Trails. Residents, he says, don’t want Hillsdale to be “a speedway,” and the City favors a two-lane road with bike lanes and sidewalks.

Naturally, no road project can begin without months of preliminary study, making even a summer 2004 start date overly optimistic. This fall, the Maryland engineering firm Johnson, Mirmiran and Thompson will present the City with a study of various alignment schemes.––John Borgmeyer

 

PATRIOT shames

Local lawmakers shun politics to criticize controversial Act

In a blip of bipartisan synergy, local Democratic and Republican parties have both issued resolutions critical of the USA PATRIOT (Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism) Act.

The 342-page Federal Act, enacted after September 11, modifies 15 existing laws. It expands Federal agents’ ability to obtain warrants, set wiretaps, conduct secret searches on civilians, eavesdrop on lawyer/client conversations, monitor the Internet, and gain access to private educational, financial and medical records.

The Republicans’ resolution passed the 57th Virginia House of Delegates District GOP on June 2 by a 2/3 vote. It warns, “Actions recently taken by the Federal government, including the adoption of certain sections of the USA PATRIOT Act and several Executive Orders, now threaten (our) fundamental rights and liberties.”

The resolution requests that local law enforcement preserve residents’ freedoms “even if requested or authorized to infringe upon these rights by Federal law enforcement.”

Republican Rick Sincere, who drafted the resolution, says, “I don’t think we should be giving the Justice Department more powers than they already have.” The GOP version calls for local oversight on Federal investigations. “This is still a democratic republic,” says Sincere. “We’re in charge, not them.”

District GOP chair Bob Hodus insists that the resolution “is not a condemnation of the Act or the Bush Administration,” but rather an “urging of caution” against Federal zeal. “You always have a chance that law enforcement officers will violate constitutional rights,” says Hodus.

The Democrats’ resolution is equally critical, stating that the USA PATRIOT Act “undermines the checks and balances that are at the foundation of protecting and preserving our democracy.” It passed unanimously at the June 17 meeting of the Charlottesville Democratic Committee, although more signatures must be solicited to compose a 2/3 majority (only 42 of 115 CDC members were in attendance).

The CDC resolution categorically singles out provisions of the Act, “that may violate the Constitution and the rights and civil liberties of the residents of Charlottesville.” It supports the independence of local public agencies from Federal control. And, it, too, proposes the establishment of “an independent oversight system to prevent the abuse of the information collected about us by the government and its agents.”

Vice-Mayor Meredith Richards, who penned the resolution, says, “Anyone who has fulfilled a prescription lately will know that their information is being forwarded.… We are about to enter a downward spiral of government secrecy and aggressive spying.”

Last week, the U.S. Justice Department permitted racial profiling for terrorism investigations, while a Federal appeals court upheld the secret detentions of up to 1,200 individuals since September 11. Federal lawmakers are now considering Patriot Act II, which could broaden the definition of terrorism and make it easier to sentence “terrorists” to death.

Both resolutions will be vetted at City Council’s July 7 meeting. Passing a version would add Charlottesville to the 115 other cities and states, including Philadelphia, Denver, Hawaii and Alaska, that have enacted legislation contrary to the USA PATRIOT Act.

“I applaud the local Republicans for having a resolution,” says City Councilman and Democrat Kevin Lynch. “I’m glad that we can do this in a bi-partisan way.” Of course, that will depend on the wording. Lynch adds, “I’d like to word it as strongly as possible.”

But regardless of the wording, Charlottesville Police Chief Tim Longo says a resolution would be moot. “I don’t think it’s any local government’s responsibility to decide on the constitutionality of a law,” says Longo. “If Congress passes a law, it becomes a duty of the Supreme Court to decide its constitutionality…I yield to their wisdom.”—Brian Wimer

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Fishbowl

Artists to Zion: Deliver us

Will performance come to the house of God?

In the year of the building’s 119th anniversary, Mt. Zion Baptist Church on Ridge Street stands vacant, and what fills it will likely stir conversation in the coming months. The Mt. Zion congregation held its final service in the building on May 25, pursuant to its occupation of new South First Street facilities. Developer Gabe Silverman purchased the church in February 2002 and takes possession of the property later this month.

“I’m hoping that somebody comes up with an idea that’s compatible with what we’d like to see happen there,” Silverman told C-VILLE. “One of the most obvious would be a music venue. It should be something that continues to give back to the community.

“What I’m not looking for,” he told the Daily Progress when he bought the building, “is a restaurant or to make it residential or anything like that.”

Silverman’s commitment to nurturing the space as a performance venue could offer new possibilities to the City’s leagues of roving theatre and dance groups. Even as capital campaigns for the arts flourish, many feel increasingly restricted in where they can stage and rehearse their works.

“There are lots of people out there that are doing work when they can. Not all of us have a huge network,” says Zap McConnell, the current director for the dance group Zen Monkey Project. Of the potential for Mt. Zion, she says, “Wouldn’t it be awesome if there was some way it could be a sort of collective where people contribute a certain amount…a community arts organization that could provide space for different people?”

Thadd McQuade, a founding member of the theatre troupe Foolery, believes that the building’s devotion to a limited number of performers may have better results and build more prestige.

“I think in some ways it would serve the community more to dedicate a space to a particular group or artist,” he says. “I’d rather see one or two people use the space in a high-profile way with accountability. Let them use it for a year and then see if they’ve used the space wisely.”

The space itself shows its century’s worth of wear and tear. Metal trusses support the wooden beams of its cathedral ceiling, and tiles overhead have fallen or come loose. Chipped and cracking in places, sea-foam green paint covers the walls. Regardless, with its stained-glass windows and aged, dark pews, the 12,000-square-foot church retains a noble atmosphere.

As one of the City’s two oldest church buildings, along with First Baptist on W. Main Street, Mt. Zion’s listing on the National Register of Historic Places owes in part to its racial history. A City Architectural and Historic Survey notes that at the time of Mt. Zion’s formation, “Segregation had not yet become entrenched, and blacks and whites lived side by side. Mt. Zion’s location at the entrance to Ridge Street seems symbolic of the integrated nature of that most prestigious residential street.”

Any new incarnation of the space should emphasize Mt. Zion’s cross-cultural significance, according to Mecca Burns, who runs the theatre institute Presence with Brad Stoller. She suggests that the church could bridge the City’s racial divide, which further widened when the officials razed the adjacent Vinegar Hill neighborhood in the ’50s.

“My really strong feeling about Mt. Zion is that it needs to be intensely multi-cultural,” she says. “I think there need to be step groups and hip hop teams. I don’t want it to be another place that has this invisible cultural barrier around it like Live Arts, where there are black people and black kids who walk by all the time but rarely go in.”

McQuade agrees. “If it gets too converted, that would be a shame. If it could still be in touch with the Mt. Zion Baptist Church [community], that would be phenomenal,” he says. “And I think Gabe is sensitive to that, to unifying the community.”

Mt. Zion’s pastor Rev. Alvin Edwards once sought for the church to become a regional black history museum or merely to retain its role as a house of worship. Now, he seems to be relinquishing those ideas as he prepares to hand over the building.

Questioned about Mt. Zion’s possible transformation into a performance space, Edwards summarizes the feelings of many City artists with his understated reply: “I wouldn’t object to anything like that.”

—Aaron Carico

 

Courting public opinion

Competing Court Square designs to get public airing

Sometimes it helps to have the Federal government on your side. At least that’s the hope of some City officials as they prepare on Thursday, June 19, to share with the public two competing plans for a Downtown courthouse redesign. Federal guidelines specifying how new courthouses should look unequivocally favor contemporary architecture, and Washington’s imprimatur is among the things Mayor Maurice Cox hopes will persuade the public to go modern on Court Square. While merely a single building’s façade is under discussion in the current debate, the choice between faux historical design and up-to-date design will have wider-reaching implications for Charlottesville.

“It will be a real test of whether the City and County can jointly conceive and fund a public project,” Cox says about the Juvenile & Domestic Relations Court, which is located at 411 E. High St. and is operated by Charlottesville and Albemarle. “I think it can be an example of good City-County relations.”

Indeed, in the three years that the courthouse’s slated redesign has been under review, City-County discussions have been mostly harmonious. Matters of how to site the new building to respect a truly historical jail structure behind it, along with questions of financing, underground parking and easements from Park Street, have been largely settled. But relations are chillier on the question of the building’s proposed facelift. Albemarle Supervisor Charles Martin, who sits on the Juvenile & Domestic Relations Court Design Committee, says he speaks for all the County Supervisors when he expresses the view that “all along the Board has been operating with the view that the [courthouse would have] a more traditional façade.

“The old-fashioned style is more of what you normally think of when you think of a courthouse,” Martin says.

But the General Services Administration, which administers all Federal court buildings for the U.S. Department of the Interior, couldn’t disagree more. Among its standards for rehabilitation, the GSA states “changes that create a false sense of historical development…shall not be undertaken.”

Moreover, the GSA dictates, “the new work shall be differentiated from the old.”

Martin says he is unfamiliar with the Federal design mandates.

The code is well known, however, to the City’s Board of Architectural Review, which will have to vet the High Street court’s redesign once the City-County committee signs off on a single proposal. Architect and UVA professor Kenneth Schwartz, who until recently served on the BAR, says his former colleagues “know very well the Department of Interior standards for adaptive reuse indicate that if you replicate the past, you trivialize history.

“That’s a mainstream position for guidelines in the United States,” Schwartz says, “and those guidelines are important to the BAR.”

BAR Chair Joan Fenton concurs. While the BAR has not formally reviewed the competing courthouse plans, in keeping with national standards, she says, “the new building should not look like it’s an old building. You should be able to distinguish what is new and old.”

That task is especially crucial in the Court Square area, says Schwartz, where a very important historical structure should, by rights, hold center stage. That’s the Albemarle Circuit Court building whose white columns, broad portico and red bricks truly derive from the 18th century. Given that the Albemarle courthouse has been witness to the law practices of three U.S. presidents—Jefferson, Madison and Monroe—“it is the most important building in Court Square from a historical point of view.

“The last thing you want to do is trivialize it,” says Schwartz.

And while Martin characterizes the modern design of architects Wallace, Roberts & Todd as “futuristic,” Schwartz says that across the nation “there are many examples of contemporary designs that are sympathetic to a historic setting.

“It has to do with issues of scale and proportions and the way the doors and windows are handled.”

In Charlottesville, Schwartz continues, design need not be “Jeffersonian or classical to honor the historical context.”

On Thursday, June 19, at 7pm, the public will have its chance to discuss the question when the Juvenile & Domestic Relations Court Design Committee presents two designs, seen above, from the team of Wallace, Roberts & Todd, and Moseley Architects. The meeting will take place in the court building at 411 E. High St.

Cox, who is the lone architect on the design committee, says he’s prepared to accept the outcome of this public process—whatever it may be. It’s been his experience with public discussion, says Cox, that when people are given information “inevitably they have the miraculous ability to make the right decision.”

Cathryn Harding

 

 

Phat city

Hip hop shops serve a broad market

West Main Street may resemble an illustration of gentrification-in-progress, where diners sip chardonnay while overlooking construction of upscale apartment buildings that will eventually hide the lower-income neighborhood behind them. But you can still buy a throwback NBA jersey, or a baseball cap meant to be worn sideways, at Charlottesville Players, an unassuming storefront next door to Continental Divide. Owner Quinton Harrell has been selling urban and hip-hop fashion from the same location since August 1997, and despite the ongoing yuppification of his block, he has no plans to move.

“Fashion has always been in my blood,” he says. “My grandmother and grandfather were known as the best dressers in town.”

Harrell got into the rag trade while still a college student, investing $500 in merchandise and a table, which he set up in the Estes parking lot on Cherry Avenue. Things went so well that, rather than finish his degree, he made the leap and opened a store. From the beginning, he had his eye on 801 W. Main St.

“It’s on the main drag, and it’s a nice building,” he says, explaining why he didn’t consider any other location for his fledgling business. “It already had track lighting and slat walls, so it was pretty much perfect.”

Harrell acknowledges that his business is an anomaly on ever-pricier West Main. “My core clientele, their per-capita income is not that high,” he says.

Still, the location brings him crossover business he might not get in a predominantly African-American neighborhood. “You can’t cater to everybody,” he says, “but it’s still a mix that I can have, where I can expand my market without sacrificing my original formula.” Harrell’s crossover strategy resulted in sales of $265,000 during 2002. A sizable portion of his market, he says, consists of browsing restaurant-goers and white moms shopping with their teenagers.

That’s not a surprise: Suburban whites have long been consumers of hip-hop culture. In fact, another urban fashion shop, Sexshuns, recently opened on the east end of the Downtown Mall, and owner Reynold Samuels also hopes to appeal to a broad market. The new store has the minimalist look of a Manhattan boutique, with each futuristic sneaker given plenty of shelf space.

“I didn’t want to overcrowd the store,” Samuels says. “I like the middle-aged crowd. That’s who I’m trying to target.”

With another hip-hop shop in town and gentrification marching onward, Harrell knows that changes are coming. Indeed, right across W. Main Street, a new 225-unit apartment complex owned by Dave Matthews Band manager and real estate mogul Coran Capshaw is under construction. Though its residents likely will be UVA students, the building—with a pool and fitness center—won’t exactly be budget-friendly. “I don’t really know how those high-income apartments are going to affect my business, because I don’t know if the stuff I carry is going to cater to [residents],” he says.

Still, he’s confident. “You can either be victimized by the growth, or take advantage of the growth. Longevity means a lot. We have something established here,” he says, adding, “I may need to move into some linen suits.” —Erika Howsare

 

 

Turn the page

Parting words from the director of the CWC

Charlottesville’s reputation as a garden of literary greatness has long been nurtured by the prize-winning pens at UVA. Since 1996, however, the Charlottesville Writing Center has provided budding scribblers a place to find community outside of ‘Hooville.

Seven years ago, four local writers––Heather Burns, Wendy Gavin, Greg Bevan and Browning Porter––discovered that their talents for prose and poetry, alas, wouldn’t pay the rent. To give themselves and other writers a place to ply their trade, they formed the Writing Center, where they taught classes on poetry, fiction and memoir writing.

As executive director, Porter has grown the non-profit company from 40 students in its first year to more than 300 last year. But this summer, Porter will step down as executive director.

Along with the brown fedora he typically sports, the 36-year-old Porter wears a myriad of other hats––graphic designer, singer, poet, magazine editor. Recently C-VILLE caught up with the renaissance man to talk about life after the Charlottesville Writing Center.

Does Charlottesville really deserve its reputation as a “writer’s town”?

I don’t know if Charlottesville is necessarily a more writerly place than other cities. It has that reputation, and it’s not entirely undeserved. I’m sure people have heard the rumor that Charlottesville has more book stores per capita than any town in the United States, and there are some high-profile writers here, not all affiliated with the University.

I think every town is a writing town. I believe writing is a skill, like cooking, that everyone needs to know how to do a little bit, just to survive. Everyone benefits from getting better at it, even if they just do it for their friends and family.

This town is crawling with wonderful writers that you never see. They continue to work, but they’re invisible most of the time. People who come to teach at the Writing Center say they expected the students to be pretty rank amateurs, but they’ve discovered they’re leading one of the most lively and talented groups of writers they’ve ever been around. I think that level of energy comes from people who have been feeling invisible suddenly feeling that they have a new community.

But what made me stick with the Writing Center this long was the realization that writers really need a community. Writing is almost necessarily a solitary endeavor. Writers need a place where they can bounce works in progress off people besides their parents or spouses or friends. They need to get exposure to other kinds of writing. They need to find friends with similar interests. Writers need people, too.

Why are you stepping down as director?

I looked into my heart, and found that I’m not an arts administrator. I can do it, but it’s not what makes me jump out of bed in the morning. There are people who are better at it than I am, and I think we’ve found one. Her name is Mary Miller. She was one of our students last summer, and she has a lot of experience with non-profits.

What are you going to do now?

I’m going to do graphic design for my day job, which is my most lucrative skill at the moment. And I’m going to put more energy into my writing and music, which I’ve been neglecting with all my other responsibilities. I’ll probably take a class at the Writing Center, which is something I’ve never had time to do. I have a volume of poetry that’s long overdue to be published, and we have a Nickeltown CD that’s been in the works for about seven years now. We need to get that finished. I’m going to continue to be on the Writing Center board of directors, and I intend to contribute to the organization as a volunteer. For the time being, I plan to continue working on Streetlight Magazine. I also have an idea for a novel.

What’s the novel about?

It’s a secret.

Can writing be taught?

Yes. Can you teach any random person to be Shakespeare or Jane Austen? No, probably not. But everyone can be taught to learn the craft of expressing themselves more compellingly in their own words. The idea that writing is some mystical power that God handed out to you at birth is not helpful to anybody.

John Borgmeyer

 

The Nature of the business

As gallery closes, Water Street loses original art draw

On June 6, the usual First Fridays crowd was swirling in and out of the oversized green front doors of Nature Gallery on Water Street—greeted, as always, by gallery director John Lancaster. But for those who noticed it, the small sign at the entrance put a damper on the normally upbeat mood: “Yard Sale, June 21. Nature is Closing.”

During its gradual evolution from studio space to Warhol-worthy gallery during the four years that Lancaster has been a tenant, Nature has earned a reputation as the edgiest venue in town, not to mention the one with the best parties. The decision to leave, Lancaster says, occurred when discussions with the building’s owner, Hawes Spencer, failed to yield an agreement about renovations (including improvements to the precarious entranceway) in the atmospheric but dilapidated space behind the Jefferson Theater.

Lancaster and co-director Laurel Hausler say they were surprised by the talks’ outcome. But, Lancaster says, “It was mutual in that both sides had qualms about continuing on,” adding that the timing of the move was “totally” his decision.

Spencer, who is a newspaper editor, says that while the space’s “highest and best use is as a gallery,” he’ll be concentrating on improvements before seeking a new tenant.

Many art watchers see the change as a loss to the local scene. Leah Stoddard, director of Second Street Gallery, had anticipated rubbing shoulders with Nature when SSG moves into its new home, the City Center for Contemporary Arts, later this year. “I was very disappointed to learn it because I was looking forward to [the Water Street] corridor being diverse,” she says, adding that without Nature the area will lack “unexpected, scrappy” programming. Nicole Truxell, whose paintings are Nature’s current and final exhibition, concurs that losing the gallery is bad news. “John’s given a showcase to a lot of people who probably wouldn’t have tried to get into other galleries,” she says.

But Lancaster and Hausler aren’t throwing in the towel. After leaving the current space July 1, they’ll spend the summer gearing up to open a new gallery, called Nature Visionary Art, in a to-be-determined Downtown location. The new space, which they aim to open in September, will feature “outsider, visionary and folk art,” according to Hausler. Lancaster calls it a “voodoo hodgepodge.” For the first time, they say, the gallery will be a full-time job for both of them.

While the new space will, in theory, be “a little glossier,” according to Lancaster, the pair say they hope to continue Nature’s role as an adventurous, experimental art venue. Still, the old location will be hard to replace, with its soaring ceiling and rich history of Vaudeville performances. Acts like Harry Houdini and the Three Stooges performed on the very floor that Nature-goers now tread. “It’s an amazing location,” Lancaster says. “It definitely adds to the experience” of looking at art.

The gallery will host a yard sale in its Water Street home on June 21, Lancaster says, to “say goodbye with a bang.” Nature lovers are invited to browse a selection of objects collected from the gallery’s many nooks and crannies: “furniture, eclectica, construction material, more books than you can shake a stick at, art supplies and Donald Duck figurines.”

According to Lancaster, “Everything must go.”—Erika Howsare

 

Categories
News

C-Ville 20

Brad Eure

Once upon a time, newspaper publishers, television producers and radio station managers actually lived in the communities they served. Now, with more media falling into the fold of corporate conglomerates, the phrase “locally owned” is practically an anachronism. Brad Eure has managed to survive the dog-eat-dog radio market by staying tuned in to Charlottesville.

Eure Communications owns three radio stations––WINA, 3WV, WQMZ––in a local market increasingly dominated by behemoth Clear Channel, which owns five stations and effectively flaunts regulations by running a sixth in a management agreement called a “time brokerage.” In 1996, the Telecommunications Act loosened restrictions on station ownership, and since then Clear Channel has bought up over 1,000 local stations nationwide. There are a total of 10 stations in the Charlottesville market; Eure says that under current rules, one company is allowed to own six stations in a market, but not more than half.

Eure’s parents founded the company more than 30 years ago in Petersburg. He took over in 1984 and moved the business to Charlottesville four years later. “I learned to do broadcasting by being involved in the community, to reflect the mores of the community in the programming,” he says.

Eure’s stations touch the main bases of commercial radio––WINA provides local news on the AM dial, 3WV offers what Eure says is more “male-oriented” programming, broadcasting from bars and letting fly with the occasional potty joke. When there are kids in the car, listeners can tune into WQMZ’s lite rock without fear, he says. Also, the Eure Communication Grant, in its second year, offers $50,000 in advertising to non-profits like the Salvation Army and Children, Youth and Family Services.

“It’s really important to know what’s going on in Charlottesville, and what’s important to each stations’ listeners,” Eure says. “You have to go beyond the music that you play.”

 

Rev. Alvin Edwards

For 20 years, Alvin Edwards has held center stage at Mt. Zion Baptist Church. After serving as City Councilor and Mayor during the 1990s, Edwards remains an offstage player with one of the most important skills in local politics––the ability to fill a room.

Last year, the arrest of 10 black CHS students for assaults on white UVA students prompted renewed hand-wringing about race relations in Charlottesville. And Mt. Zion served as the rallying point for political leaders, community activists, parents and young people. A group called Citizens for a United Community emerged from those lengthy, sometimes heated gatherings. Two months ago, CUC held a mass meeting exposing the un-secret that race issues infest economics, housing, education, social habits and nearly all aspects of life in Charlottesville.

Just as the problems do not waver, nor does Edwards’ conviction that the purpose of all the gatherings has been “to heal the community.” Cynics will note the apparent incongruity in members of the town’s white elite joining hands and singing Negro spirituals, as they did at the close of the CUC meeting, and they’ll wait perhaps for this group to fizzle along with the promise of previous such collectives.

Nevertheless, the CUC is earnestly trying to address Charlottesville’s complex and deep-seated race problems. Charlottesville still has miles to go on the issue. Cynics and optimists alike can agree on that, and on the fact that Edwards deserves credit for getting the conversation started. Again.

 

Amy Gardner

Amy Gardner feels personally responsible if even one Charlottesville woman has to drive to Richmond or Tyson’s Corner to find the shoe (or handbag, or scarf, barrette, necklace, bracelet) of her dreams. For the past nine years, she has been adorning Charlottesville feet with the likes of vibrant suede flowered Kate Spades, bronze wrap-ups from Claudia Ciuti, comfortable aqua driving loafers from Mezlan and orthopedic-styled yet fashionable Donald J Pliner mules.

At the tender age of 24, Gardner opened her store, Scarpa, in the North Wing of Barracks Road shopping center. Terribly light on product at first while the proprietor struggled to get loans, Scarpa was a mere shell of its presently jam-packed self.

“I thought it would be far better to try it,” says Gardner, “than to wake up one day in the middle of my life and know I had a good idea but was too chicken to do it.

“Besides, after two gin and tonics I thought, ‘How hard can it be?’”

After the modest beginnings, apparently not that hard. During her famous annual sale, Gardner soothes the bodies and soles of scores of cents-minded yet fashionable women, ringing up more than 175 transactions per day. Furthermore, with the opening in November of her newest indulgence boutique, Rock, Paper, Scissors on N. First Street, Gardner breathes new life into stuffy paper products, like rubber bands in fanciful animal shapes.

“I don’t want to fill my stores with everything that’s out there because I don’t believe in everything that’s out there,” says Gardner.

“It’s just my taste at the end of the day,” she says.

 

Satyendra Huja

City Planner Satyendra Huja recalls that when he arrived in Charlottesville in 1973, people told him to “go back to India with your crazy ideas.” Now, after 30 years, Huja is retiring with the proverbial last laugh.

When he came to town, businesses and residents were moving to Albemarle, and City leaders feared Downtown Charlottesville would soon be a husk of vacant buildings. Sprawl multiplied like bacteria along Route 29, with subdivisions and strip malls connected by wider roads and ever more spacious parking lots.

As Albemarle welcomed cars and pavement as agents of commercial growth, Huja took the opposite view. The way to save Downtown, he said, was to get rid of cars altogether. One of Huja’s first and most controversial big ideas was to turn E. Main Street into a pedestrian walkway in 1976.

For more than a decade afterward, the Downtown Mall felt like a ghost town after 5pm. People said it was a failure. But as the Mall added housing, restaurants and bars, it became one of the few such pedestrian malls in the nation to successfully concentrate jobs, homes and entertainment in a walkable space.

As the City’s lead planner, Huja enjoys the credit for eventual triumphs like the Mall. But his position also makes him a target for those on the losing end of the City’s agenda. Recently, Huja employed his disarming demeanor to assuage business owners on Preston Avenue who say a proposed City development there will ruin their businesses. He tried the same tack with renters on Prospect Avenue who fear the City’s plan to increase middle-class home ownership will push the poor out of Charlottesville.

Whenever the City acts as a developer, emotions run high. As the City grows more dense, more gentrified, and more crammed with boutique accessory stores, Huja’s name will be the one praised––or cursed.

 

John Grisham

The name John Grisham may not immediately bring the word philanthropist to people’s lips. His lucrative dynasty of legal thrillers tends to overshadow his gifts to humanitarian causes, but Grisham contributes far more to the community than take-a-number signings at New Dominion Bookshop once a year.

Last year, Grisham and his wife, Renee, donated $280,000 to the Legal Aid Justice Center, facilitating its move from the old Albemarle Hotel building on W. Main Street to the renovated Bruton Beauty Supply warehouse on Preston Avenue. He also chaired the advisory council for the center’s capital campaign, convincing other donors to pony up the total of more than $1.85 million necessary for Legal Aid’s relocation. Readers of his novels know Grisham to be a champion of those in need and his statement on the center’s website confirms that his beliefs are more than the work of fiction: “Legal Aid is at the center of the last line of defense for the basic civil liberties of the poor. If this line fails, we are all at risk.”

Need more reasons to praise Grisham? How about his generous donations to regional baseball. He sponsored the construction of the pristine Cove Creek Little League park in southern Albemarle and a stadium at St. Anne’s-Belfield. He is rumored to be an anonymous donor behind UVA’s new baseball complex, too. It’s nice to know the man’s John Hancock graces some well-placed checks to area causes and not just the title pages of his latest bestseller.

 

Leah Stoddard

When Second Street Gallery Director Leah Stoddard moved to town in the summer of 1999 she intended to take some time off. But restlessness overtook her and she soon nabbed a gig as part-time development director of the City’s oldest independent gallery before quickly being promoted to executive director. The job, if not the title, suited her.

“I changed it to simply ‘director’ as I thought ‘executive’ sounded too daunting,” she says. “I wanted a kinder and gentler contemporary arts space.”

That sums up Stoddard’s vision for the 30-year-old gallery. “What I wanted to do, and I think a lot of museums/galleries are trying to do, is break down the elitist conception of arts spaces, but still maintain a level of scholarship,” she says.

Her work has paid off: Last year Second Street earned a $40,000 grant from the Andy Warhol Foundation to support the organization’s innovative and scholarly presentations of contemporary art. The gallery will take it to the streets even more come fall, when it moves from its current location in the McGuffey Arts Center to a new, more accessible storefront in the soon-to-be-completed City Center for Contemporary Arts.

Stoddard sees the move as a huge boon for the organization—and the timing doesn’t hurt, either. “I am sort humbled by this,” she says. “Not only did I have to help design the space, but I have to do right by our 30th anniversary and put together an exhibition of the last 30 years. I’ve only been here three years and I’m just trying to do right by this organization’s impressive history and do it all justice.”

 

Charlottesville Center for Peace and Justice

The blue anti-war signs that suddenly mushroomed across local lawns at the start of the year were but one indication that the Charlottesville Center for Peace and Justice stays on top of its game—even if membership numbers rise and fall like so many political fortunes. Founded 20 years ago as the Interfaith Peace Coalition, the group’s first agenda was to promote nuclear disarmament. In those days, they pressed City Council to declare Charlottesville a nuclear-free zone, an action they emulated in the spring when they spurred Council to pass a resolution in support of continued Iraqi weapons inspections and opposed to unilateral military action.

Through perseverance, outreach and well-timed public events (such as the free lecture by C-VILLE columnist Ted Rall), CCPJ kept the war debate alive and kicking during the early months of this year. The protests have dwindled and other stories preoccupy the ever-fickle national press, but CCPJ is not off the case. The mission now: Continue the dialogue about how citizens can respond non-violently to future political and military crises worldwide that are sure to arise.

 

William Lewis

By day, William Lewis runs his 15-year-old small copier business, Duplex Inc., on the Downtown Mall. By night, he’s a small-business counselor, a television show co-producer and mentor to at-risk kids—seven of them, to be precise.

Lewis’ show, co-produced with Greer Wilson, is appropriately dubbed “FYI” and runs on Government Access TV, Adelphia cable channel 10. In a one-on-one conversational format, the show tackles everyday issues like living with Alzheimer’s and features interviews with prominent African-Americans like UVA Dean of African-American Affairs Rick Turner and former Virginia Delegate Paul Harris.

In an upcoming installment, “FYI” will tackle death and dying—and how to pay for the sudden expenses. In the coming weeks, the seven protégés—all television producers from the Charlottesville-Albemarle Technical Education Center—will be hosting their own show, under the guidance of Lewis and Greer, of course.

“This is just one way for these kids to have up-close access to real business people that they otherwise may see as people they could never talk to,” says Lewis.

 

Aaron Hawkins

Forget Avril’s “Sk8ter Boi.” Energy & Rhythm proprietor Hawkins is the real “extreme” deal. The former pro snowboarder and current skateboard aficionado, designer and salesperson at the local skateboard shop has spent the past five years trying to make a positive scene for Charlottesville’s halfpipe crowd.

“I saw how much of a gap there was in between the kids and the sort of underground culture and there not being an actual meeting spot for that,” says Hawkins. “Aside from Barnes & Noble and the University itself there really wasn’t a centerpiece for information or a creative outlet. I felt like I had a lot of things I could share with the kids.”

So in 1998 the lifelong skater (he started at age 6) started Energy & Rhythm, moving it from its original Elliewood Avenue location to W. Main Street last year.

That’s not all. Hawkins got involved in the renovations at the McIntire Skate Park, presumably to do more than just build a dedicated clientele for his cool boards and related stuff. While he says the resulting park, finished in 2000, is only about 60 percent of what he had hoped for, Hawkins isn’t complaining. In short, he is thrilled to be the big kahuna of the local skater scene, which he figures numbers between 200 and 300 avid members ranging from ages 7 to their late 40s.

“I like the scene here, everybody knows each other,” he says. “It’s communal and super-cool, and not a lot of cliques. And I’ve tried to promote that sense of reality and brotherhood.”

 

Daphne Latham

Few people better embody the City’s dual nature—wanting at once to be a small town and to be the City (read: New York)—than Daphne Latham, the inspired hair and makeup artist who lends her talents to Live Arts (and runs her own business, Running with Scissors, by day). Raised by local jazz bluebloods John D’Earth and Dawn Thompson, Latham spent half her childhood in the bustle of the Big Apple and half in Charlottesville’s more sheltered environs. Lucky for us, the trend hasn’t changed.

Although Latham’s talent and sensibilities could easily sustain her in the metropolis, where she still spends much of her time, she has devoted a great deal of energy and hair gel to Live Arts. She became involved with the production of The Rocky Horror Show two and a half years ago, after meeting Live Arts board member Cate Andrews. Since then, audiences have seen Latham’s work—whether they’ve realized it or not—in about 17 productions, including The Wiz, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Wild Party and currently Bat Boy, in which she is also a featured actor.

“I didn’t ever know I was going to get involved in the way that I did,” says Latham, whose Running with Scissors business caters to private clients as well as stage, video and photo productions. “This year, because I’ve been so much more involved at Live Arts, I’ve spent less time in New York.

“That’s not a bad thing,” she hastens to add, then notes in typical Charlottesville form, “I didn’t used to say that I liked Charlottesville, but as I get older I really do.”

 

Coran Capshaw

You’ve got to give Coran Capshaw his props. He struck gold managing Dave Matthews Band and could live comfortably anywhere in the world, yet he’s chosen to stay in Charlottesville––and piece by piece buy up the whole town.

Fittingly, he’s got the music market cornered. His Starr Hill Music Hall is the only stage in town for mid-level touring acts like The Wailers and local stars like Corey Harris. His Musictoday.com business hooks up music fans with all their favorite band paraphernalia. And Red Light management guides fledgling acts to the next levels of stardom.

Capshaw also has a restaurant empire, including Starr Hill Restaurant & Brewery, Blue Light Grill and, most recently, the Belmont tapas joint Mas. He’s a tough businessman, but he has softened his reputation as town father by donating thousands to local charities through the Charlottesville-Albemarle Foundation.

Now Capshaw is dipping his toe—well, his foot, leg and hip, actually—into real estate. Bulldozers are at work on a Capshaw-owned apartment complex across W. Main Street from Starr Hill. Whole chunks of Downtown are in his portfolio, too. But perhaps his biggest coup will come when he closes a deal with the City to manage the revamped Downtown Amphitheater, a deal that will draw on Capshaw’s many areas of expertise. The City is planning to pour millions of Federal and local dollars into a bus transfer center and pedestrian plaza on the east end of the Mall. The City wants to turn the amphitheater into a 5,000-seat outdoor pavilion better suited for big music acts, then lease it to Capshaw. Word has it he’ll probably open a restaurant there.

 

Dragana Katalina-Sun and Sun Da

They filled a canyon-wide niche, namely for a cheap, fast and reliable Downtown lunch. For that reason alone, Dragana Katalina-Sun and Sun Da could earn a place among this year’s C-VILLE 20. But there’s more. The owners of Marco & Luca, a.k.a. the dumpling shop on Second Street, embody an American dream. Since they opened their closet-sized operation on December 31, 2001, the couple and their two adorable children (for whom the shop is named) have captured the imaginations—and stomachs—of hungry Downtown denizens.

They met in Germany in the mid-’90s, she a refugee from Bosnia and he a refugee from China. By 1999 they were transplanted to Charlottesville, beginning to dream of owning their own business.

“We wanted to bring the people quality and quantity,” says Dragana, “and we wanted to bring it to all kinds of people, all classes.

“We love that everyone can afford it,” she says. Indeed, at $2.50 for six fresh-made dumplings or $3 for a tub of sesame noodles, it’s no wonder Marco & Luca customers line up around the corner for their meals (Marco & Luca averages 120 customers per day).

“We love it here, so many people are so very friendly,” says Dragana. “My friend from Sweden was telling me just today that if you say hello to someone there, they look at you as if you’re insane.”

 

Craig Littlepage

During his sophomore year as UVA Athletic Director Craig Littlepage has effectively declared his concentration: To pump up sports at UVA like so many linebackers on Androstenedione. It’s good news and bad news. A successful athletics program will pour even more tourist bucks into the local economy and make Charlottesville a top-tier destination within the state. But with that acclaim will come traffic congestion and possibly dilution of UVA’s academic reputation.

Littlepage must be betting on the positive side of the equation. Consider that $129 million basketball arena, which broke ground earlier this month and that theoretically will improve recruiting possibilities for coaches Gillen and Ryan even as it contributes to severe traffic congestion in the Ivy Road/Emmet Street neighborhood. Or the shiny new baseball stadium, which enjoyed a decent virgin year as the team went 29-25 for the season (but only 11-12 in the ACC). How about the NCAA championship-winning lacrosse team that prompted the question “Syracuse who?” among legions of ESPN viewers last month?

And then there’s the football program, by which we mean the Pep Band. The pigskin ’Hoos have been on the road to recovery for a couple of years already under Al Groh. But after the state of West Virginia threw a collective hissy fit over a satirical skit presented during halftime at a UVA-West Virginia away game, Littlepage evidently concluded that a big-time sports program is best served by something conservative and predictable—like a marching band. Littlepage has earned UVA notice for other reasons, too. The first black athletic director in the Atlantic Coast Conference, the former basketball coach last week was named Athletic Administrator of the Year by the Black Coaches Association. If all goes according to plan and UVA improves its rank in the sure-to-expand ACC, bringing more TV and promotional rights to the University in the bargain, Littlepage’s fame likely will grow brighter.

 

Susan Donovan

With a souring political climate internationally and increasing numbers of displaced persons, Susan Donovan’s work becomes ever more important. That’s because as regional director of the International Rescue Committee she helps settle more than 100 refugees in the area each year. When she took her present position in 1998, Donovan had lived in the City off and on for almost 15 years. She spent much of the ’80s traveling with IRC. She wanted to work with the group, she says, “because it’s so effective. It meets problems directly, without bureaucracy.”

IRC resettles 10 to 15 percent of the refugees who enter the country, and the Charlottesville office is the smallest in its 19-branch national network. The group opened an office here, Donovan says, because “Charlottesville is so welcoming and full of community spirit, and it’s so easy to network here.”

In addition to the City’s openness to newcomers, Donovan cites the region’s freakishly low unemployment rate (currently at 2.8 percent) as a bonus. Her office sponsors a refugee clinic at UVA and an interpreter service with bilingual speakers of 12 languages, including Serbo-Croatian, Burmese and Swahili. On June 20, Donovan’s office celebrates IRC’s 70th anniversary and World Refugee Day on the Downtown Mall. Meanwhile, Charlottesvillians can celebrate the countless contributions Donovan and her colleagues have made in the five-year history of the local IRC.

 

David Toscano

After 12 years in local government, attorney David Toscano is tucking a $6 million feather in his political cap.

As a former City Councilor and Mayor, Toscano witnessed the Downtown Mall’s evolution from sketchy dead zone to the center of Charlottesville’s social life. Now he’s overseeing a multi-million-dollar project to usher in the Mall’s next incarnation as a tourist net.

While building the Mall in 1976, the City ran out of money before it could finish an east end plaza. In 2001, Council decided that a $6.5 million Federal grant for alternative transportation could be used for a bus transfer station and pedestrian walkway outside City Hall. (The space is tentatively dubbed President’s Plaza, although Toscano is asking creative citizens to suggest a more inspired name.) The City also will pour local money into a Mall overhaul, including a new amphitheater, a complete rebricking and destination signage (may we suggest “This way to boutique-and-latte wonderland”?).

Council tapped Toscano to lead a steering committee of Downtown business owners. They’re supposed to be advising the project’s architects, although some members complain the committee is merely a rubber stamp for the City’s agenda.

Either way, Toscano is presiding over the biggest changes to Downtown since the Mall’s construction. As a Councilor, Toscano helped bring the Federal dollars to Charlottesville, and he helped get the project underway as the Feds warned Council to use the money or lose it. Just as 30 years ago a proposed change to the Mall engendered controversy, so does this transfer station project make some skittish. As a former elected official, Toscano is unfazed by the noise: His affinity for the give-and-take of politics is still making things happen in Charlottesville.

 

Margie Shepherd

In the name of higher teacher’s compensation, eighth-grade civics teacher Margie Shepherd has been a major pinprick in the Albemarle County Board of Supervisors’ sides for years now. As President of the Albemarle Education Association, she’s not afraid to come out kicking.

At the March 12 Board of County Supervisors budget hearing, Shepherd, who teaches at J.T. Henley Middle School, stood before the large crowd and screamed into the microphone, “We get awards for excellence in our schools and you get awards for being too tight-fisted to give budget increases?” When it comes to bread-and-butter issues, Shepherd has a long history of yelling the loudest.

“You find the money,” she hollered at the Supes, referring to the 2003-04 fiscal budget. “It’s all in the priority!” The next month, they approved the 2003-04 school operations budget exceeding $104 million and coming in at $4 million above the previous year’s budget.

Victory is sweet, but Shepherd will continue to fight, she says.

“I think that the County School Board is headed in the right direction,” she says, “but the Supervisors are more concerned with keeping the budget low than they are doing the right thing by the students and educators.”

She has other fights up her sleeve, too, like extra planning time for teachers. “There’s been an increase in demands with no increase in teachers’ time,” she says. For the 2003-04 school year, Shepherd plans to add mentoring projects to her busy schedule—including a project for new teachers to be managed in conjunction with UVA.

That doesn’t mean she’ll lose sight of her core concern. Where advocating for teacher’s salaries is the matter, she says, “It’s definitely not a done deal!”

 

Sonia Cabell

Sonia Cabell of 10 1/2 Street NW is tired of her neighborhood’s reputation as a haven for crime and drugs. There were 21 reports of drug activity in the 10th and Page neighborhood last year, according to police records. But turf battles and JADE busts are not the whole story, says Cabell. People there are working to improve their lives, she says.

“People are always going to look at this as a drug area, and I don’t think it’s right,” she says. “They don’t give us a chance to change.”

Cabell represents 10th and Page in a program called “Block by Block.” A City-sponsored group called the Quality Community Council wants to recruit block captains for 11 Charlottesville neighborhoods. Cabell’s goal is to encourage more City involvement with her neighborhood.

“In the past, the only time we see City people is when a crime is going on,” Cabell says. “Where are they before the crime happens?”

Cabell is getting her wish. The City is trying to spruce up 10th and Page just as public, private and University interests undertake new development on W. Main Street. Last year police installed two permanent officers in the neighborhood. Moreover, the City, in partnership with the Piedmont Housing Alliance, has bought 16 houses in the neighborhood to refurbish and resell.

Gentrification will be part of the future for 10th and Page, but for now Cabell sees her role as bridging the gap between City Hall and people historically neglected by and suspicious of government. Since becoming a block captain in December, Cabell helped persuade the City to put up four-way stop signs on her street. She’s also conducting bake sales to help her neighbors afford the increased trash-sticker fees.

At first, Cabell feared she’d catch hell from her neighbors for working with the City.

“There’s been no grief at all,” she says. “It’s all about my neighbors. We’re working on this together.”

 

Pamela Peterson

Pamela Peterson had been baking crunchy canapés at home where her dog, Sam, would regularly enjoy them. One day a co-worker at Boxer Learning recommended she sell the treats. So, taking the advice, in 2000 Peterson began peddling her delectable dog treats at the City Market. Within a week, the appropriately dubbed Sammy Snacks were building a loyal clientele. Encouraged, Peterson quit her job and went into the bone-shaped treat business full time. Since then she’s been on a crusade to restore good eating to the City—and country’s—canines.

The idea behind Sammy Snacks was to create a treat that Peterson could share with her dog—something free of preservatives, chemicals, cholesterol and sodium.

“I was so unhappy with the treats available at the store,” says Peterson, “and Sam always wanted a bite of what I was eating.” Her latest crunchy product, a CranOat treat that has earned a “Virginia’s Finest” designation, has a light granola texture.

She can bake a yummy snack for Bowser, but Peterson’s deeper contribution is as an employer. Seven of Peterson’s 10 employees are highly functioning adults with mild to severe brain injuries.

“These are intelligent, functional individuals,” she says, “who didn’t have sheltered workshops geared toward their specific needs.”

At present, Peterson’s treat-loving customer base only continues to grow—she distributes 2,000 pounds of doggie biscuits and 20,000 pounds of all-natural dog and cat food per month to upscale pet boutiques nationwide. Next month, Peterson will relocate to the corner space of the Gleason’s building on Garrett Street. There, locals can pick up a 10-ounce container of Sammy Snacks for $5.50. Maybe it’s a dog-eat-dog world after all.

 

Charlottesville Downtown Foundation

For an organization that previously operated in relative obscurity, the Charlottesville Downtown Foundation has taken a lot of heat in the past couple of months. Now nearly everyone knows the name of the non-profit group behind Court Days, the Dogwood Blues Festival and Fridays After 5. But the newfound fame does not come because CDF has been successful in its mission to promote the Historic Downtown area nor because it contributes profits to a slew of local charities. No, CDF’s notoriety arises from a $3 price tag—the fee the group attached this year to the Fridays’ gate, which for the previous 15 years had been free.

While it’s possible that no one will ever be able to tabulate the real value of a Foreigner concert (the ’80s rockers will play a rescheduled show at the Downtown Amphitheater on September 19), the public has offered plenty of other wisdom to CDF—to wit, find new sponsors, raise the beer prices, if you must, but for Pete’s sake keep Fridays free.

As if Fridays didn’t raise enough sparks, CDF’s already burned credibility (high employee turnover and a perception of mismanagement hasn’t helped) went to charcoal with the news last month that it would discontinue its annual Fourth of July fireworks display.