Biscuit Run, now slated to become a state park!
Watching Biscuit Run make the inconceivable switcheroo from 3,100-unit development to 1,200-acre state park was a bit like watching magician David Copperfield disappear the Statue of Liberty. Eight months later, and some of us are still looking for the magic wands, trapdoors and ropes that the state of Virginia used to buy the land—at a discount price of $9.8 million!—from developer Hunter Craig and other investors from Forest Lodge, LLC. Those are the guys who paid $46.5 million for the illusion in 2005.
Will the Biscuit Run investors reemerge as unharmed as a white rabbit from a magician’s top hat? Sure, the trick is a thrill in many respects. But as with all great illusions, we wish we knew how the magicians pulled it off.
The oversized fame magnet draws famous entertainers to a too-small town
Is it just us, or does Charlottesville seem blessed with a Stretch Armstrong-like ability to sell out shows whose capacity vastly outstrips the city’s population? Forty-thousand people populate the city; 60,000 people packed Scott Stadium for the U2 show last October. Charlottesville is the incredible expanding market.
For years we’ve been used to launching great talents but not necessarily hosting them. When Dave Matthews Band headlined Scott Stadium in 2001, it seemed like a nostalgic hometown fluke. But now, with the likes of Jay-Z, Justin Timberlake, Taylor Swift, the Rolling bleepin’ Stones, and soon Lady Gaga touching down on local stages, we are certain that Charlottesville emits a particularly strong magnetic field.
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The new taste of the new economy, the humble hot dog takes a starring role
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If you’re feeling sassy, there’s nothing like the cool thwap of a knuckle sandwich to set you right again. But if you’re feeling skint, we suggest a juicy Depression Sandwich. That’s what wartime folks used to call hot dogs. Nowadays what do locals call them? Lunch.
It wasn’t so long ago that Jak ’n Jil was the city’s only go-to dog joint. But in the past year, we’ve seen more wieners than your average urologist. It’s one thing for a weary tourist to grab a $3 frankfurter on her way to Urban Outfitters, but when you see a 6’3" banker—in a suit and tie, no less—walking down the Mall with a hot dog in his hand, you know this is more than a trend.
Just ask Tom Jakubowski of What Up Dog, a street cart whose Boar’s Head franks are so popular he’s now teaching a course for cart-starters. Or Joseph Mills, whose Last Call Dogs on the Mall’s east end capitalizes on hungry Fridays After 5ers. You could also visit Eric Saunders at The Downtown Hotdog Company. Even though he lacks the portability of his outdoor comrades, his lease at York Place says plenty about his belief in the weenie’s staying power. And that’s the doggone truth.
In Crozet, even when the populations’s up, the library’s down
Crozet has been touted as the new hot spot for growing families: safe, pretty, pastoral, and boasting an above-average school system. Flocks of out-of-towners are filing in and staying put, which is what local government wants in a designated growth area. But as Crozet grows, inexplicably its library shrinks. Think of it this way: Crozet is a Walmart Superstore, with people pouring in and stroller-pushing moms crowding the parking lot. But the Crozet library is the Walmart’s utility closet. It’s that small: 1,900 square feet. Citing budget constraints, Albemarle Supervisors voted to put the new Crozet Library, a proposed 18,000-square-foot beast, on hold for at least five years.
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Who can explain The Great Snowtacular?
Our little corner of the world has survived forces that would have leveled many a lesser place: a decades-long infusion of Democrats; boutiques hawking $100 distressed t-shirts; a $7.5 million makeover for a brick walkway; and even vegan entries on local menus. But, come 37” of white stuff and everything stops. We are humbled, humbled.
With its portion of the Meadowcreek Parkway, Albemarle County builds steadily towards…nothing
Watching the slow, one-sided construction of the Meadowcreek Parkway is like watching a man try to shake hands with a black hole. Albemarle County’s $11.8 million portion of the parkway continues to slowly stretch its concrete arms towards McIntire Road—and a projected October 2011 completion date. As work progresses east along Rio Road, however, it seems likely that the county section will sink its fingertips not into a city connector but into a swelling, bottomless ball of red tape.
Just as sound cannot exist in space, communications around the city’s portion of the MCP seem to vanish—or, at the least, grow profoundly warped. After a miscommunication between city staff and City Council regarding the interchange at the 250 Bypass, a VDOT engineer told City Council that even the Army Corps of Engineers was too confused to approve a final permit for the project. Of course, the final permit may not be the final hurdle. The city still needs to solicit construction bids before it boldly goes where no man has gone before.
