Author: nell-boeschenstein

The white board at the front of the room announced the outcomes from the individual precincts: Democratic candidate for City Council Dave Norris won seven of Charlottesville’s eight precincts and took home 3,835 votes; his running mate, former fire chief Julian Taliaferro, won 3,637. Republican incumbent Rob Schilling came in dead last with 2,389. Given that the Dems’ campaign made the election all about Schilling, the Dems’ victory party at the Charlottesville Ice Park was predictably raucous: booze flowed, Beyoncé blared, Norris even spilled his beer on an unsuspecting reveler.
So yeah, yeah, yeah—the Dems are back on top, after campaigning as the underdogs.
“I think a lot of people really felt that [Schilling] was going to hold his seat,” says Taliaferro. “[Charlottesville] is heavily Democratic, but a lot of people just vote for the person” and not down party lines.
Sure, Schilling was the incumbent, and his yard signs outnumbered the Norris and Taliaferro placards by a margin of, like, a gazillion-to-one, but Democrats are hardly oppressed in this town: There hasn’t been a Republican-led City Council since the Mesozoic Era. Before Schilling, there hadn’t been a Republican on Council for 10 years. Plus, as Tom Vandever, the campaign manager for the Dems points out, “yard signs don’t vote.”
“So arrest us for lying,” says John Conover, a former City Councilor and longtime rainmaker with the Democratic Party. “You want people to feel like it’s a contest, and it is! But [the Republicans] won last time because we fell asleep, not because [Schilling] is so marvelous.”
While Norris and Taliaferro may have tried to get voters riled up about affordable housing and education, issue-based campaigning just wasn’t at the heart of the race. As Conover points out, whenever there’s an incumbent the frame of the race is always, “keep a good thing going or throw the bums out.”
Schilling’s 2002 win, in which he beat Democratic candidate Alexandria Searls (incumbent Democrat Blake Caravati also won his second term that year), included a few wild cards: low voter turnout, independent candidate Stratton Salidis and the inability of Searls and Caravati to present a united front. This time around, the Dems say they had learned their lesson.
“Everyone was well aware of the dangers of open warfare,” says Norris, explaining that, while there was perhaps some “creative tension in terms of how to push the envelope,” he and Taliaferro stuck together to strengthen the ticket.
When it came to choosing candidates in the first place, Conover says that “we are aware that we wanted to have people that understood the role of civility. When you’re a public example, it’s not just an issue, it’s how you go about it.”
What really clinched the election for Taliaferro and Norris, however, was the Dems’ get-out-the-vote machine. Whereas in the 2002 election, there was only 22 percent voter turnout, on May 2, 26 percent went to the polls, a high number for a local election. In 2002, Schilling managed to win with a mere 2,176 votes, about 200 fewer votes than he garnered this year.
According to everyone from Democratic stalwarts like Conover and Vandever to 31-year-old activist Holly Hatcher, young upstarts made this election happen. Groups aimed at young people—Left of Center, the Young Liberals and the University Democrats—mixed socializing and politics, helping to light a fire under the donkeys’ lazy asses.
This resurgence of participation, says Vandever, is a cycle that’s integral to the success of the party and “has made all the difference in our success for the last 30 years.” Vandever also pooh-poohs suggestions that there was any tension between the new and old guards of the party.
“Some friction is inevitable,” says Vandever. “But the net result is what we saw, with everyone pulling together… You can almost look at it as a family: Kids grow up, become teenagers, have some friction with their parents, and then they take charge. It doesn’t mean that everyone doesn’t love each other.”—Nell Boeschenstein

Waving American flags, singing hymns in Spanish and English, and holding signs that declared “We struggle for what is right with dignity” and “I am an immigrant, not a delinquent,” about 350 local Hispanics and community members gathered outside the County Office Building on McIntire Road at 6:30pm on May 1 to tell Charlottesville loud and clear: “We’re here, and we matter.”
“Charlottesville needs to recognize that we have significant contributions to the economic and cultural parts of this community,” says Charo Mina-Rojas, who immigrated here from Colombia seven years ago and now works as a legal assistant at
Legal Aid. “It’s important for us to
be visible.”
The cause for this outpouring? A House of Representatives bill that would build a 700-mile fence along the U.S.-Mexico border, and that would make felons of all undocumented immigrants. The local demonstrators joined hundreds of thousands across the country. A reported 300,000 in Chicago and another 300,000 in Los Angeles marched in protest of the bill, along with smaller marches in other major cities from San Francisco to Atlanta. Along with demonstrations, many immigrants—particularly Latinos—boycotted work, school and consumerism in order to flex their economic muscle. This, however, was a controversial tactic that some thought would alienate potential supporters, and locally it did not have significant impact.
The Charlottesville demonstration was organized by Father Paul Brant and the Church of the Incarnation, a local Catholic congregation. Since the decision to demonstrate wasn’t made until three days before the event, the rally was announced at the church’s weekend services, and Brant did not have time to drum up greater community support. Only about 30 non-Hispanics came out in support, and there was no UVA presence to speak of, but Brant says he was encouraged by horn-honking as cars passed and the post-demonstration support of Mayor David Brown.
As for the conspicuous absence of other immigrant groups, “it’s not an open conflict,” says Brant, “it’s more passive in that [other immigrant groups] don’t step forward to support [Hispanics]. There’s no feeling of bonding. There’s no unified immigrant group. There’s more of a bond, a cultural bond, between the Hispanic groups that have legal status and those that don’t.”
According to Tim Freilich, an attorney with the Virginia Justice Center for Farm and Immigrant Workers who spoke at the rally, the May 1 rally was something of a coming out party for the local Hispanic population.
“They were stepping out as a voice,” says Freilich. “This marked the beginning of the area’s Latino community finding its own political voice and power.”—Nell Boeschenstein

At about 11pm on Thursday, May 4, Bishop Rufus Hayes of the Charlottesville Church of Christ was awakened to a telephone call telling him that his church was burning.
By the time he arrived at the church he’s led for 17 years, flames had engulfed the Fifth Street building’s smaller sanctuary and offices, and firefighters were working to keep the main sanctuary from succumbing to the fire.
The next day, Hayes pick-ed through the rubble with his wife, Betty. The right side of the building was completely destroyed, while the main sanctuary—including the pews and the stained-glass windows—suffered ex-tensive smoke damage, but remains largely in tact.
“My head feels a little…” Betty said, gesturing to her temples, obviously still daz-ed. “But I’m doing all right.” Her husband explained that they’ll be setting up a Wachovia account to which people can send checks to help fund the rebuilding. Preliminary estimates put reconstruction costs
at $850,000. In the meantime, the congregation has received offers to hold their services at other local churches or at area schools.
Having found blood at the scene—indicating that the church had been broken into— police alerted hospitals to be on the lookout for anyone admitted for cuts. Soon thereafter, police were alerted that a 24-year-old homeless man named Jason Scott Santos was being treated for injuries consistent with the type that could have been sustained at the church. After interviewing Santos, police charged him with breaking and entering. Arson charges are also possible, but had not been filed as of press time.
Police say Santos is from Roanoke, and that he had been living in the woods around the church for only a short time.
“I know most of the homeless people here,” says Hayes. “They have a respect for me. They would never have done this. It had to be someone that didn’t know me.”—Nell Boeschenstein

On a recent sky-blue spring day Monticello hosted a gaggle of reporters atop Montalto, the mountain across from Monticello that the Thomas Jefferson Foundation snatched from the poised paws of hovering developers last year when the property came up for sale. The occasion for mountaintop sunning? On May 1, twice-daily tours of the property began, continuing whenever the weather is fine through October.
Peter Hatch, who has been Monticello’s director of gardens and grounds for 28 years, suggested the tours as a way to expand the context of the Monticello house tours. On top of Montalto (when it’s not covered with snow), TJ fanatics can now look down on Monticello and see how it’s situated in relation to the City of Charlottesville and neighboring farms. The changing landscape is apparent from this vantage point: Condos creep up on Monticello from Charlottesville in the west, but to the east the landscape remains pastoral.
“Before Jefferson, during Jefferson and after Jefferson is at the heart of the Montalto tour,” says Hatch.
The tour will also discuss in more detail Jefferson’s interest in westward expansion (Montalto was purchased for $15 million, the same dollar amount Jefferson paid for the entire Louisiana Purchase) and the Virginia wine industry, which was started by Jefferson crony Phillip Mazzei on the property of what’s now Jefferson Vineyards.
According to Keith Johnstone, vice president for business and administration for the Thomas Jefferson Foundation, experts have said that the southeastern face of Montalto is the best soil for grape-growing in the entire state. While the Montalto buildings (houses, mostly) that are in Monticello’s viewshed will likely be torn down, Monticello is considering turning the southeastern face of the mountain into a winery, among other possibilities.—Nell Boeschenstein