Meet Me Under the Clock

That's the clock from Richmond's venerable old department store, Miller & Rhoads. "Under the clock" was a favorite meeting place for Richmonders when they were having a busy shopping day downtown. The clock hangs in the Valentine Museum now that the store is no longer in business.

When I first moved to Richmond in the late 70's, M&R's flagship store downtown was a fine experience. You could have lunch in their tearoom, and watch models parade down the runway in M&R's latest offerings. You could have anything you bought delivered to your home at no extra cost if you didn't feel like lugging your purchased items around the store. Morris remembers a perfume fountain at one store entrance, where ladies could dip their hands as they passed by. Doesn't that sound more refined than those aggravating perfume girls who wait to pounce on you with a blast of fragrance?


The Valentine is Richmond's local history museum, and Morris & I went there in September for a Gay Richmond History Bus Tour. Before we set out on the little gay bus, we toured the museum exhibits. I snapped a couple of photos of the old retail signs that the Valentine has saved from the wrecking ball.

Thalhimers was the city's other upscale department store, Miller & Rhoads' arch-rival, and now there's an empty lot where the downtown department store stood. You can take a gander at it below; that's all that's left of Thalhimer's - a flat, empty plot - with the new Federal Court Building in the distance.


Miller & Rhoads, at least most of it, has been "adaptively re-used" as expensive condominium & hotel space. Morris & I, ever nosey, went to see the condominiums in early October. They were overpriced, in my opinion, but it's nice to see the downtown area being revitalized by people moving back into the district.


The next picture was taken from one of the condominium's terraces, looking down onto the roof of the Berry-Burk store. Berry-Burk, another retail establishment from the past, was a quality men's store where I used to buy clothes. Now you can live there. A lot of the empty Richmond business buildings have been converted to residential spaces.

The Sidewalk Cafe is one of my favorite places for casual meals, with its Miss Sidewalk mural on the side of the building. They are known for reasonably priced food and ample serving sizes. A few years ago when I worked a couple of blocks from the restaurant, I went in for lunch one day - not really terribly hungry, I ordered a hummus appetizer. I swear it was served on a hubcap. The platter was huge, and there was more food than four people could have handled. Their fried calamari is another personal favorite, but I've never been disappointed with anything I've tried on the menu.


Alamo BBQ is on Union Hill, and I love this wee building. I guess it used to be a filling station. Award winning barbeque. Outdoor dining or carry-out only. The patio area features a few tables attended by flies the size of bumblebees, and they attack your food in predatory packs, like wolves. They give you time to get settled at the table with your food while they develop their strategy, and then one diverts your attention while the rest of the pack swarms your sandwiches & sides. Good luck. You'll need it.


It would be a shame to post so close to Halloween without photographs of people dressed like idiots, so I'll include a couple of shots from Sadie's last party. Here we have Sheldon & Robespierre; Sheldon wearing his traditional fool's cap, and Robespierre dressed like the prince he believes himself to be. Sheldon recently celebrated 16 years of sobriety, and Robespierre marked his fifth year. The hats were on loan from the Planet Bill Collection, and both gentlemen were very gracious about wearing them...for much longer than anyone really wanted them to. Aren't they cuter than speckled pups under a mushroom?


And here's little Romeo, celebrating his real live birthday, which happened to fall on the same day as Sadie's party. Romeo was not a good sport about his Planet Bill Birthday Cake Hat, which he snatched off his head as soon as the picture was taken. Perhaps he was afraid that his bespoke haberdasher would see this compromising photograph.


Now we come to four photographs of an apartment building in the Wilton section of Richmond. This exclusive neighborhood, nestled between Cary Street Road to the north and the James River to the south, is characterized by steep hills, mature trees, deep ravines, and expensive single-family homes. Houses in this section are mostly traditionally designed, with an emphasis on Federal, Georgian, and Colonial styles.

Seeing a 10-unit apartment building in the International style at the juncture of Tempsford & Kennondale Lanes was both jarring and exhilarating. It's fantastic! George Hoppe must have felt the same way when he saw the 1931 Exhibit of the International Style at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.

George Hoppe returned to Richmond after spending several years in New York, and was one of the first to design & construct buildings in this new modern style in a city with a strong traditional aesthetic. I'm sure the neighbors blanched with disgust and had to pour themselves a double bourbon when they looked at "that eyesore across the street."


From the Virginia Department of Historic Resources records:
George Hoppe’s building at 101 Tempsford Lane as well as the single family dwelling he constructed next door are two rare early examples of the International Style of architecture in the City of Richmond.
The style developed in 1925 in Europe, particularly in Germany after WW1 as a departure from the previous architectural styles which were heavily influenced by history, ornamentation and architectural details. This new, modern style wanted to design buildings that were “Machines for living”, and were stripped of unnecessary details and focused on the function, materials and mass of a building. Famous architects such as Le Corbusier, Mies van der Rohe and Gropius are noted for immigrating to America and introducing these modern, radical architectural ideas.


Hoppe’s buildings are particularly significant examples of this style due to their early construction dates, late 1930s and early 1940s. The well known Rice House, an International Style dwelling designed by Austrian architect, Richard Neutra, was built 30 years later, just down the banks of the James River from 101 Tempsford Lane.


The asymmetrical building form, unornamented exterior walls, flush exterior steel windows, flat roofs and lack of detail are all characteristics found in Hoppe’s modernist buildings, which also respond to their unique terrains. Functionalism is a theme throughout Hoppe’s 101 Tempsford Lane. The stepping terraces, steel vestibules, glass block, and steel windows are all a nod to the idea of a building working as a machine. [note: Hoppe even installed a radiant heat system in this building]

The building is undergoing restoration, and I was able to enter a couple of units. I couldn't resist taking a picture of this mid-century bathroom sink. It is almost identical to the bathroom sink from my childhood, with its slender chrome legs and attached towel bars.

Boo, Y'all.

You know what's weird? It just occurred to me that I have no clear memories of the Halloween costumes I wore as a child. I can recall trick-or-treating, and sitting on the living room floor in a sugar-induced stupor surrounded by candy. I remember walking through the neighborhood streets on crisp, dark nights with Jimmy - the boy who lived behind us - our dads following a half-block back, keeping an eye on us. I can even recollect how my plastic Halloween masks felt uncomfortably bumpy & hard, as if they were trying to reshape my face. I just can't remember any of my costumes.

Well, not until I got older. Suzanne had a costume party one time when we were in high school, and I decided to go as a baby. My mother crafted some sort of giant diaper for me out of God knows what, and I carried a rattle. For some reason, I guess because I was half-naked, I decided that I needed a second costume from which I could emerge as a crying baby.

This "travel costume" was a spur of the moment idea, and I blame the outcome on the haste of the execution and the chilly night. It was too cold to ride around in a diaper, so I thought it would be brilliant to arrive in a - well, it just sounds ludicrous now that I think about it.

My mom was very indulgent about letting me select the color of my room, even when I was too young for such weighty responsibility, so when I chose a rancid mustard-gold paint in 4th grade, she cheerfully painted the walls and then told me I would have to live with it. By 7th grade, I was redecorating my room with two white walls & two malachite green walls, black curtains on the white wall & white curtains on the green wall, and black & white shag carpet. A black vinyl swivel chair and an orange beanbag chair provided a venue for conversations with friends and listening to my Jesus Christ Superstar album. After a few years, the beanbag either needed new beans, or -

I decided it would be a lark to show up at Suzanne's door as a beanbag chair. Of course, I needed help. I couldn't drive over there like that. I also needed help getting the beans out of the vinyl beanbag. The beans were really little styrofoam pellets, and my dad produced a spare outdoor trashcan so we could empty out the beanbag. Boy, those little pellets took on a life of their own when they were released from that chair cover. They did not want to settle down in that trashcan, and they flew about & stuck to everything. They also seemed to expand in the cool night air. My dad had to get a second trashcan to hold all of the styrofoam balls, and even then they seemed to spill over the edges like living lava.

I guess it was static electricity that made these little pellets so perky & pesky. Try as we might, we could not get the bag completely cleared of them, but it was time to go to the party so my friends zipped me up in the beanbag, hoisted me into the hatchback of my car, and off we went. The beanbag was really hot inside.

I rolled into the party, someone unzipped the bag, and a cranky baby coated with styrofoam balls wrestled his way out of the chair cover, like an infant turtle struggling free of its leathery egg shell. I'll bet Suzanne's mother was still finding styrofoam pellets when she was moving to a new home several years later.

Sadly, I didn't learn my lesson from this experience. A couple of years later while home on break from college, one of my dorm mates (also home in nearby Norfolk) had a costume party, and I went as a mummy. At the time, it seemed like a good idea to put on a complete set of long underwear and wrap myself in toilet paper. By the end of the evening, all of the toilet paper had fallen off in perforated squares, and I was simply a young man wearing nothing but long underwear in public.

Gallimaufry

The view above frames a portion of Richmond's downtown district as seen from East Grace Street on Church Hill. Church Hill is the original site of the town of Richmond, established there by William Byrd II in the 1730's since it is the highest point overlooking the James River. Just off-camera to the left is the Richmond Hill Retreat Center, which was still the Monte Maria Convent when I moved to Richmond in the late 1970's. A Catholic friend told me back then that this was a cloistered order of nuns, and that only one nun was allowed contact with the world outside the tall brick walls that surrounded the property. It seemed so mysterious. Today, this is an ecumenical retreat, and the gates are open.

I've been staying busy lately, and haven't made time for blogging. My apologies for that; I've been visiting new AA meetings in addition to my regular rounds, and I am seeking a new sponsor. I know that I need continuing guidance on my journey to emotional sobriety. I miss my old sponsor, but he is gone, and it is time to move forward. I trust my Creator to provide the right mentor for me. For now, I feel the lack of a sponsor, which is a humbling reminder that I'm not better off trying to figure things out by myself. I keep referring to the sign I have at my desk: Don't believe everything you think. Whatever I think is a good idea usually begs a second glance.

One recent Sunday, Jeffrey & I drove down to Petersburg to attend an out of town meeting. It was a bright & balmy day, and we enjoyed the morning meeting at the Tri-Cities Clubhouse in Old Town Petersburg. We got a nice welcome from the regulars at the meeting. Below, an ancient streetcar that sits near the clubhouse is pictured, followed by the historic South Side Depot building. The depot is on the south bank of the Appomattox River, an area of bustling commerce in prior days, and you can see evidence of a long-gone neighboring building on the side of the depot. The adjacent structure was probably a tobacco shed. Note how the depot's windows were constructed based on the now-missing neighbor.



On our way back to Richmond, Jeffrey & I stopped at the Bellwood Flea Market, which now occupies the parking lot of the defunct Bellwood Drive-In movie theater. If you are looking for power tools of dubious provenance, fruit or vegetables from English-as-a-Second-Language vendors, or hand-tooled leather belts with buckles the size of serving platters, then your search has ended. Sadly, we both walked away empty-handed, but the finely-made doll baby below did tempt me. She reminds me so much of the granny dolls that my Great-Aunt Freda crapfted in an obsessive-compulsive manner out of dishwashing detergent bottles in the 1960's.


There's no real purpose for this post, other than to say hello, tell you what I've been doing, and to clean out the memory card on my camera. You'll be treated to a hodgepodge of pictures in no coherent order. So here we go...

When I visited Sheldon one afternoon, I discovered that it was Cereal Box Day for his cat, Sassy. What cat doesn't love a box or paper bag? Sassy was in high cotton with two cereal boxes to play with. Even with a large Cheerios box, Sassy cannot wedge her fat ass into it, but she does the best she can with her front half. The expression on her face says pure contentment. I think Sassy is autistic.




Speaking of cats, in the mixed-use neighborhood known as Scott's Addition behind my office building, there are several breakfast & lunch diners. I go to the Moore Street Cafe for breakfast fairly often, and beside the restaurant there is an office building with a resident cat as part of the staff. He is usually in the window, waiting for his co-workers to arrive. I don't know his name, but he wears a Superman pendant from his collar. I think he's deaf, so instead of saying hello, it's best to stick your fingers through the mail slot so he can rub up against them.


Sue's Country Kitchen is one of the neighborhood canteens serving breakfast and lunch. They make really good homemade soups. The place only seats 25 patrons, and it's run by a jolly fellow named Ike.


My friend Morris and I share an interest in local history, and we have been taking car rides throughout the city, exploring old neighborhoods, and being all-around looky-lous. Someone has to keep an eye on this city. We also toured the State Capitol recently, so maybe I'll post pictures from that soon.

Unlike me, Morris grew up in Richmond, and has been a wonderful source of local arcana. We will be driving by the most ramshackle looking church in a depressed neighborhood, and Morris will say "That church was built in 1859 and was the original First Mount Zion Pentecostal Holiness Church, before it moved to its present location at 321 Magnolia Street on May 16, 1947."

The next picture is of statuary on Franklin Military Academy, originally the East End Junior High School, on the eastern edge of Church Hill. The sun was setting, and the light striking the old school was beautifully roseate.

Several blocks away, we happened upon the splendidly renovated Robinson Theater, which operates as a community center after suffering through various incarnations including pool hall and disco. It was built in 1937, and named after Richmond's very own tap dancing Bill Robinson - who is more widely known as Mister Bojangles. We were amazed to stumble upon the theater, because it's in a very bedraggled section of Church Hill. It was like finding a pearl in a pig sty.




When looking at the Robinson Theater, a quick pivot of the camera lens shows Night & Day Chicken. This is a truer picture of what this neighborhood looks like today. After years of urban blight, Church Hill is a neighborhood in transition. In the last half of the previous century, this historic neighborhood housed the economically and socially disadvantaged. Now it shows signs of careful, respectful restoration. Meanwhile, corner stores selling beer & wine and businesses like Night & Day Chicken still dot the hill.


Just a few blocks south of Night & Day Chicken, a storefront window offers a message of goodwill.
Peace on earth, my friends.

Secret Squirrel

I hope everyone has had a splendid weekend. I did. I was busy both days, and only had time for one short nap. Weekend naps are something I look forward to during the work week. I'm sleepy tonight. I went boating with Sadie this afternoon, and the sun zapped me. Yawn!

Before I head upstairs to bed, I thought I'd share a few photos with you. By now, everyone has probably seen the ground squirrel that photobombed a couple's vacation picture (below). As it turns out, he's been around for awhile. Obviously, he's not camera-shy, but I was surprised to learn that he's been a thread in our nation's fabric since our early days, and still wields power and influence in modern times. He has also visited a couple of my good friends recently. This guy seems to be everywhere!



Here's our furry pal acting as a protocol advisor to President Obama & Michelle on their recent goodwill trip to the Old World. This venture might have been a disaster without his counsel.



Jimi Hendrix would never have played The Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock if not for the urging of this wise marmot.



He was part of the first lunar landing, although some naysayers still claim it was all a ruse. He knows better. He was there.



Passionately devoted to the United States of America when we were still just thirteen ragtag, bickering colonies, few Americans today know that we would never have united as one nation if not for the wise vision he shared with our country's forefathers.



Before you jump to any conclusions, this was not a political endorsement. Our friend was simply foraging for nuts, and he found a really big one.



My friends Suzanne & Brett in Amsterdam were thrilled that he found time to drop in when he was in Europe. They are opening a new shop, La Naranja, in the Kinkerbuurt section of the city. Suzanne told me that he is a whiz at product marketing ideas, and he didn't charge them a thing. They just had to keep their cats outside during the consultation.



My pal Scott will be launching a new art show of his works in September, and confided to me that this little ground squirrel has a keen eye for the best picture placement on the walls of the Nau-Haus Contemporary Gallery in Houston.

The House That Love (almost) Built

At some point in most intimate relationships, a time is reached when one asks oneself "How can I best express my love? What can I say or do that will truly demonstrate my undying ardor?"

Of course, the simplest way to let someone know that you love them is to look them in the eye each day and say "I love you," and treat them sweetly. As civilized people, however, we like to make things as complex and convoluted as possible, so we bypass the direct route and seek flashier solutions, usually in the form of gifts or services. Here are a few examples I've heard of.

♥ fresh flowers (delivered; not yanked out of the yard)
♥ a luxury day at a spa
♥ a mood ring (I'm sorry to say that my dad had this idea for my mom)
♥ a night on the town, including dinner & a show
♥ a private island with a 120+ room Rhineland-style castle

I know what you're thinking. The mood ring seems excessive. I'm not sure if my mom ever got over it. I found it in a jewelry box after she died.

Last month, while I was cavorting around the Thousand Islands, Sadie took us to Boldt Castle. Boldt Castle is perched on Heart Island, and was a built as a testament of George Boldt's love for his wife, Louise. George was a Prussian-born self-made millionaire. He & Louise had summered in the Thousand Islands region, and Louise was very much taken with the area.

Time wasn't on George's side, however, and in the fourth year of the castle's construction, Louise keeled over from heart failure. Only one month shy of her 42nd birthday, with the world at her feet and a castle in the making, and poor Louise takes the dirt nap. George telegraphed the island and ordered all work stopped. It is said that he never set foot on Heart Island again. Statuary & fountains brought over from Europe remained in their crates on the island's dock, which rotted, dumping the collection into the river for many years. For anyone interested, a more reverent account of all these doings can be found here.

Today, you can visit the unfinished castle. Sadie took us there in her boat, but (if you can't find Sadie) there are tour boats that you can take from the US or Canada.


Once through the ticket office at the dock, you are pretty much free to roam the island, castle, and other buildings as long as you like. We headed straight for the house, wandered through the first floor, and then went to the basement. There's an unfinished indoor pool in the basement, and a passageway that led us to the edge of the island near the power house. From there, we trudged back up to the house and explored the upper floors.

Below you will see Sherry, Robespierre, and Sadie posing in front of Boldt Castle.


The next photo shows Alster Tower, which is also known as the children's playhouse. It seemed odd to me that you'd build a children's playhouse at the edge of a river, far from the main house, but what do I know about child care? In case the river didn't tempt the children, there was a Roman pool immediately beside the playhouse. Alster Tower's plans featured a billiard room, bowling alley, library, as well as a cafe, grill, and kitchen. It also had bedrooms, and this is where George & his family stayed while the castle was under construction.


Next we see a reception room on the first floor of the castle. The property sat vacant for over seventy years, and was tormented by harsh winters and vandals. In 1977, the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority purchased the place for one dollar, and has spent millions on upkeep and renovations. The interesting thing about the house is that, while the first floor has been spendidly finished, the upper floors become increasingly crude as you climb.


The impressive domed skylight in the main hall...


Sadie in an unfinished bedroom. The house had way too many bedrooms. Really, how many overnight guests do you want all at once, no matter how many rooms you have for them? But, George owned the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel in Philadelphia, and he was proprietor of the Waldorf-Astoria in New York, so I guess he thought that houses should have thirty bedrooms and bathrooms.


The fourth floor was quite bare and incomplete. I loved the hints of grandeur unfulfilled.


Next, we have the passageway that led from the basement to the outer edge of the island. This would have been used by servants to convey goods from the docks to the kitchens & storage rooms below stairs.


Here's the cute little power house, which held generators to supply the island's electrical needs.


The heart motif was everywhere. Flowerbeds, stone masonary carvings, plaster fretwork on the ceilings...George Boldt even had engineers reshape the island to resemble a heart. It's astounding what people, unencumbered by income taxes, could do with cheap labor. Just look at the Egyptian pyramids.


This gazebo is a popular spot for weddings nowadays.


Here's a view from Heart Island of a little lighthouse in the St. Lawrence River. The sailboat obligingly came along at the right moment. And that concludes our tour of Boldt Castle, the uncompleted monument to love. When you think about it, the mood ring makes far more sense.

Double Feature

Do you ever have one of those days where you think it's another day of the week? On Tuesday I thought it was Thursday. Wednesday I tried to make it be Thursday, also, and it wouldn't. I was in a local grocery store, saw that they had eggs on their daily special for Thursday, and had picked up two dozen before I realized I was a day early for the bargain price. Today I keep thinking it's Friday.

No surprise, then, that I started to name this post Double Feature Friday, but came to my senses before I did so. Our first feature today shows recently discovered archival footage of my pal in Texas, Scott, getting dressed when he was a youngster. It seems he's always been fussy about his appearance.



I've been on an old movie kick lately. Through the advancements in media technology, tons of old films are now available, and the list keeps growing. I went on a Val Lewton junket for awhile. Despite the lurid titles that the studio insisted upon (I Walked with a Zombie, Isle of the Dead, and the like), his movies were actually quite well done. I Walked with a Zombie was a Caribbean version of Jane Eyre, except the mysterious wife was a zombie instead of a madwoman. His Curse of the Cat People, despite its lurid title, is more of a psychological study of childhood fantasies than horror film.

Another movie I enjoyed recently was The House on Telegraph Hill, directed by Robert Wise, starring Valentina Cortesa and Richard Basehart. It was a hybrid film which had elements of film noir and the woman-in-peril genres. Valentina Cortesa swaps her identity with that of a dead friend, and we know that nothing good ever comes from that. How many times did we hear this from our mothers when we were kids: "You may play in the neighborhood for one hour, but remember to look both ways before you cross the street and don't swap identities with any of your dead friends." Bette Davis learned that lesson in Dead Ringer when she murdered her wealthy sister & assumed her identity, and then got nabbed for murder anyway because her sister had killed her own husband.

Now that we've had our Intermission, it's time for our next feature film, Backpacker Cat, which was sent to me by Scott, and I've watched it frequently when I need a calm moment. Laetitia & Guillaume, a French couple, began a walking trip in October 2008 from Miami to the tip of South America. In Louisiana, they found a stray kitten in the middle of the road, and Kitty has been with them on their journey ever since.

I just love this clip.