Upstream and Downstream

It helps to be photogenic.

The James River, easily the most photographed part of our fair city, was the topic of this month's community conversation at F.W. Sullivan's Canal Bar & Grill, a place I had to Googlemap to figure out how to get there.

It's not like it's far from home - 1.8 miles - but I was honestly not sure where along the canal it might be.

Once there, overlooking the Canal and in the shadow of a nearby high rise, I found a smaller than usual group assembled for the discussion of riverfront development.

Might have been because tonight's session had been rescheduled from a snow day last week or maybe others were as unsure where it was as I'd been.

F.W.'s had put out snackage, so I helped myself to hot wings and hummus and found a seat next to a fellow J-Ward resident.

We began, as is the habit, with people's first memories of the area. Mine was the opening of the pedestrian bridge to Belle Isle back in the early '90s.

The Valentine's Bill Marin said his favorite memory of the river was instead of church, he made a regular Sunday 9 a.m. trek from Church Hill down to the water, employing different routes and seldom seeing anybody en route.

Facilitator Matthew summed up his story, saying, "Who needs Jesus when you have the James? Or you can probably have both."

After a few people shared their early memories, we moved on to photographs from the Valentine's superb collection, always my favorite part of these evenings.

There was an 1852 shot of Mayo Bridge and the Flour mills, back when Richmond was one of the largest flour milling cities on the planet.

We saw a prior iteration of the Mayo bridge and I learned that the current one is slated for replacement by VDOT. I agreed wholeheartedly with Bill's comment that we need to keep the old one even after the new one is built.

My hands down favorite was a sepia toned photograph of a boating party on the banks of the James, as engaging as Renoir's painted version.

An 1869 shot of the Virginia Boat Club sported teams of crew gliding along the river.

"One of the biggest challenges we have is finding photographs of Manchester," Bill explained. "It's a real research challenge." He also mentioned that we need to rediscover southside because important stories are missing from our city's cultural identity without them.

Closer to home, I saw a shot of the Lombardy Street underpass half underwater from a 1972 flood and the Federal Reserve building under construction and totally surrounded by nothing but surface parking lots.

After people got more food, we convened to talk about what we'd like the riverfront to become in ten years.

Someone suggested that we open the ship lock so boats could travel upriver to the canal, bringing their money and business to the canal area.

The consensus was that people want to see restaurant and retail development along the canal but keep the riverfront as wild and natural as possible.

I admit, I was a tad surprised that there were people in the room who'd never walked the pipeline walkway or heard of Texas Beach.

It became clear people want to get the word out about all the hidden gems of the James without creating a stampede that destroys the naturalness of it all.

A pretty tall order, I'd say.

Already the riverfront trails from Maymont downriver are overused and under-maintained, a condition that's only going to worsen, Bill pointed out.

Our speaker tonight was Richmond Magazine's executive editor, Jack Cooksey, talking about the history and health of the river.

 We heard how plentiful Atlantic sturgeon were when John Smith first landed here, how they single handedly kept the colony fed in the early days and how if we had an American fish, it should be the sturgeon. About boat builder and environmental pioneer Newton Ancarrow, who ended up with a park named after him for his efforts. How the James rated only 53 out of 100 in the last Sate of the James report. All fascinating stuff.

That's one reason I enjoy these community conversations so much: it's part photography exhibit, [art history lesson and part community discussion of what has been and what could be.

Partway through the evening, I felt a bar stool being dragged next to mine and turned to find the dance party lover taking his place next to me.

When the evening ended, I tortured him with details about the fabulous electronica show I saw Tuesday and he got me back by sharing that he's planning a trip to London in June.

And while the meeting ended early, Bill Martin joined us for a wide-ranging chat about the Liberty Trail (and how some people thought it was too long - obviously non-walking types), the best sidewalks to get from the Black History Museum to Franklin Street (that's my neighborhood and there's no easy way given the state of some sidewalks) and some rehashing of the last Monroe Park community conversation (where anarchists met garden club types).

I was excited to hear about the new BridgePark project, a public park that will span the rapids and link downtown to Manchester with space for recreation, arts and social activities. How cool will that be?

Crossing back over the canal, the mighty wind of earlier had lessened a bit as I made my way to my car. It was time for some music.

White Laces, the pitch perfect dream pop band I've been following for years, is about to embark on a national tour opening for the War on Drugs, so tonight was their last show for a while and definitely the last before a whole lot more people discover what I found out nearly four years ago at the courtyard on Adams Street during the artwalk.

You can get lost floating downstream in their hazy sound.

But bands rarely star early at Balliceaux, so I found a seat at the bar and chose a seared pork belly sandwich with Daikon slaw and truffle fries to tide me over until my date arrived.

As music lovers began to drift in, I saw lots I knew - the shoegazer, the DJ couple, tonight's rock star- including the friend who arrived helmet in hand because his car is in the shop.

Asking if I was alone, I said I expected  company soon and inquired about his other half. "We see each other about half the time," he explained. "That's about all she can stand me. Hey, if your date doesn't show up, I'll buy you a drink because that's the kind of guy I am."

Which I suppose makes me a lucky woman to have friends like that.

When I heard New Turks began playing, I hurried to the back room to catch their frenetically loud post punk set carried out on drums and bass, whipping the crowd up with their non-stop audio assault.

Just as they finished, my date walked in and my friend's generous offer was forgotten.

With Espolon in hand, White Laces took the stage with leader Landis introducing the new keyboard player whose first show with the band was tonight.

P.S. They leave on tour tomorrow (the Bowery Ballroom in NYC! the 9:30 Club in DC!).

While the sound wasn't ideal to star (happily it improved throughout the set), they began building atmospheres of sonic grooves that eventually had the crowd totally into it.

It was great hearing a keyboard player back in the band adding another layer to the sound and giving arrangements of songs I've heard many times a fresh life.

Landis was sweating mightily, holding up his beer frequently as if in a toast to what he'd earlier called "a safe room," meaning lots of adoring fans.

The light projections behind the band were courtesy of the one and only Dave Watkins, blending "Repo Man" and "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" for a pixilated visual treat while the soundscapes unfurled.

After a few songs my date acknowledged how much he was liking the later stuff they played. Another first-timer told me he'd loved their sound, unexpected after walking in knowing nothing about the band.

Me, I discovered that sound back when they were more about volume than dynamics and finesse.

Here's hoping every night of their tour ends up being a newly safe room full of recently minted fans.

Let's face it, it helps to be talented.