Albatrosses and Lowlands

It started with eating crabcakes on the stairs and ended with tequila.

What, again?

The Library of Virginia was doing another in their "Books on Broad" series, this one with Mary Jane Hogue of Historic Richmond Foundation.

Graciously, things began with a reception, meaning they were serving shrimp skewers, chicken skewers and even crab cakes along with wine.

If they're trying to make evening lectures more appealing, they're doing a fine job of it.

While many people seemed to be going for a full meal, I kept it simple with a mini-crabcake and a skewer eaten on the impressive staircase that leads upstairs to the stacks.

A half dozen other people joined me there and we got some cocktail party chatter going despite being strangers.

In front of us was a table with old and new photographs laid out on it.

The old ones had been taken by commercial photographer Adolph Rice back in the '50s and were laid next to current photos of the same scenes.

The purpose was for people to identify anything they knew of the scene- long-gone buildings, stores or landmarks- to help future historians better understand them.

Since I wasn't here in the '50s, all I could do was marvel at how quaint the city looked back then.

Before long the talk began and Hogue, the executive director of HRF, said that women had started historic preservation in Richmond, creating the group that became HRF.

She showed us slides of buildings while sharing their stories.

The "pilot" block of 2300 E. Grace Street in Church Hill, the first block the group had saved in 1957 because of its proximity to St. John's church.

The 200 block of W. Franklin, destined to be torn down, was purchased from Dr. Tucker and saved in 1977.

The Linden Row Inn, which had been left to HRF by Mary Wingfield Scott, was saved by HRF in 1979.

Unbelievably, Old City Hall was slated to be torn down when the group "put up an unbelievable fight" to save it in 1981.

Was the city really still that short-sighted as recently as the eighties? Apparently so.

In 1983, the saved "our love and our albatross," according to Hogue, Monumental Church, now a popular site for weddings (who knew?).

Seems the center-aisle is more desirable than St. John's side aisles.

"People thought we were crazy," she said about the block with the National Theater on it.

The doctor who owned it (we were seeing a pattern) wanted to demolish the entire block and build a parking lot, so HRF paid rent on the building for two years while they raised $1.5 million to buy it.

They ended up saving the whole block, but they had to hold onto it for 17 years before they found someone willing to rehab the theater.

Thank goodness the HRF has patience or I'd never have seen so many great bands so close to my house.

The lecture went on like that, with pictures and stories of so many significant buildings saved (an 1813 house, a pre-Civil War warehouse) at the eleventh hour by the women's passion for preservation.

What would this city look like without their estrogen-fueled efforts?

As Hogue pointed out, both Savannah and Atlanta offered much larger incentives for Spielberg to film "Lincoln" in their cities, but he took Virginia's measly $4 million because we had the best buildings.

Don't we know it..

After the talk, I stayed in the neighborhood and stopped by Saison for a bite.

"How's your day going?" a friendly barkeep inquired as I sat down between the turntable and a friendly couple and ordered some Espolon while considering the menu housed in a book.

Mine was about Mexico and the couple had one about cats, which they were making fun of in the best kind of way.

After a couple of cat cracks, they paused and checked to make sure I didn't mind anti-cat jokes.

As if.

But you can only trash talk cats for so long before hunger kicks in so I ordered oxtail sopes with lime cream, pickled onion, and some crunchy pickled curtido.

I heard tell of brunch coming soon and even the possibility of them taking over the old Jackson Ward Deli space next door for lunch.

Amen to that. Anytime we can get life back in a neighborhood building, I'm all for it.

I was told how much fun vinyl night is on Tuesdays, with customers sharing their favorite records.

As I was finishing it up, another guy behind the bar inquired what I was drinking.

When he learned it was tequila, he grabbed a small menu and told me it was tequila/mezcal flight night.

Drat! How had I not been told this when I arrived?

Seems the bartender was filling in and had been unaware himself.

As consolation, I was allowed to order one flight pour (instead of the usual three).

Asking for a recommendation, I was told that the server's favorite was Tres Agaves from the lowlands.

I was game and my 3/4 ounce pour delivered a peppery and lightly floral tequila I could get used to.

Except that there are so many others on the menu I need to try, too.

"You'll have to come back on another Wednesday," the bartender told me. Or on Tuesdays for record playing. Or for $2 tamales.

I couldn't very well call myself J-Ward Girl otherwise.