Casting On Sight

Distinction Magazine, Distinctionhr, Hampton Roads Magazine, Virginia Magazine, fly fishing, Colby Trow, Mossy Creek Fly Fishing, Cobia, Sight Casting

On the ocean, it’s you, your wits and your prey. The lure of cobia and red drum makes the Beach a hot spot for fly and traditional fishermen.

by Ric Burnley
photography by Keith Lanpher and Harry Hindmarsh

I’m slowly motoring through the glistening ocean with a few fellow anglers. We’re a half-dozen miles off the Virginia Beach Oceanfront, our eyes all searching for the prize: a big brown fish.

Finally we spot a 4-foot-long cobia swimming just under the surface of the crystal-clear water. We turn around and start to close in.

When we get about 30 feet away, professional angler Colby Trow hauls back his long, thin fly rod and shoots a wild concoction of feathers and fur a few feet in front of the fish.  He strips the line and the fly darts across the water. The cobia reacts, splashing and swirling just inches behind the lure. Trow strips again, and the fish lunges. Another strip, another lunge, the cobia grabs the fly and yanks, but misses the hook. The fish is teasing the fisherman – grabbing, slapping and chasing the lure all the way to the side of the boat, where it splashes its tail one last time and disappears into the blue.

This is sight casting for ocean prey, and it’s like big-game hunting: stalking a fish, sneaking up on it, shooting a bait, hoping for a hit. On the toughest day, an angler can spend hours searching the water for a single fish. On the best days, he might encounter huge schools swimming at the surface, looking for an easy meal. There are easier ways to catch these fish, but sight fishing isn’t about catching – it’s about the hunt.

To be sure, sight casting isn’t for everyone. It can be hot; bright sunshine is vital to spotting the fish swimming at the surface. It can be frustrating, and, like any other worthwhile pursuit, fruitless. But it’s intimate and purposeful; in the heart-pounding moments after you spot your prey, it’s just you against that fish. It’s about outsmarting the prey, hooking it, fighting it, beating it.

Sight casters can cruise around the Oceanfront, lower Chesapeake Bay and up the Eastern Shore looking for red drum, cobia, black drum, even crevalle jacks and striped bass. Big black drum, some weighing more than 80 pounds, can be spotted hanging around the rock islands of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. The bridge will also host schools of striped bass and even squadrons of silver jacks patrolling the pilings and circling the rocks.

But cobia are the real star of the show. They can grow to 100 pounds and fight like a caged animal. They can be found hiding behind bridge pilings or under navigation buoys, shadowing turtles and stingrays, or just swimming out in the open.

As we patrol the Atlantic on this late August morning, we spot pods of porpoises, schools of swift stingrays, and even a rare and massive leatherback turtle. But no cobia.

Undeterred, Colby Trow stands ready on the bow with his elegant fly rod while another angler maintains watch on the hard-top with a beefy spinning rod.

Distinction Magazine, Distinctionhr, Hampton Roads Magazine, Virginia Magazine, fly fishing, Colby Trow, Mossy Creek Fly Fishing, Cobia, Sight Casting

Since sight casting requires bright sun, a fish hunting expedition doesn’t even start until after breakfast and is usually over in plenty of time for drinks and fish stories at a watering hole. For many anglers, the day starts at Long Bay Pointe Bait and Tackle on the Lynnhaven River, sight casting central and only minutes from the Chesapeake Bay. Shop owner Steve Wray says he has seen the sport take off in the past few years. “It seems like everyone is sight fishing,” he says. “We’ll have 20 or 30 boats in here buying tackle and fueling up on a weekday.”

The sport came to town about five years ago, Wray says, when a group of enterprising anglers brought back techniques they had learned in North Carolina and Florida. Before that, anglers looking to catch cobia and drum would anchor on the shoals of the lower Chesapeake Bay and blindly soak bait on the bottom. Two problems: This method produces more stingrays, sharks and other “trash fish” than target species, and – as Wray says – bait fishing is boring.

“Not many people have the patience to sit and wait for hours until the tide turns right,” he says. Sight fishing, on the other hand, is active and engaging. “You’re looking, searching, covering water, not sitting in one place and waiting.”

Another draw for sight casting, Wray says, is its simplicity. “It may not be easy to find a fish in a haystack,” he says, “but the tackle and techniques are pretty simple.”

To get started, all an angler needs is a heavy-duty spinning rod, a couple bucktail jigs, a pack of hooks and a bucket of live eels. Wray also recommends a good pair of polarized sunglasses. For protection from the punishing summer sun, he suggests a full suit of sun armor – long sleeves and long pants, wide-brimmed hat, even a light balaclava and fingerless fishing gloves. “The sun and wind and salt,” he warns, “will beat an angler down.”

After sight fishing came here, it took only a
couple years for the Beach to become a world-class destination, Wray says, and he has seen anglers from all over the country pulling into the fuel dock. “The charter guys are booked solid,” he says, “and a lot of anglers are bringing their own boats from as far away as Florida and New England.”

Not only do anglers come a ways to chase these fish, but the fish also travel from afar to visit the Chesapeake Bay. According to data from the
Virginia Game Fish Tagging Program, cobia that were marked with an identification tag in Virginia have been recaptured as far away as Louisiana. And red drum outfitted with a pop-up satellite tag have migrated to the edge of the Continental Shelf – 50 miles offshore. Still, not enough tags have been
returned to provide a clear picture of the migration patterns of these great fish. Program director Lewis Gillingham says, “We don’t know much about where these fish go in the winter, but we do know they return to Chesapeake Bay each summer.”

For red and black drum, that may be many, many summers. A red drum can live more than 30 years and grow as big as 50 pounds, and black drum will live more than 65 years and push 80 pounds, Gillingham says.

Cobia, on the other hand, grow fast and die young. While they can weigh more than 100 pounds, they rarely live longer than 10 years. “A 50-pound cobia may only be 6 or 7 years old,” he says, “and a 100-pounder won’t be more than a teenager.”

Not only are these fish big, but they also have a habit of swimming at the surface. “No one is sure why they do it,” Gillingham says. “Maybe to warm up, or maybe that’s where they find food.”

Whatever the reason, this behavior makes drum and cobia perfect candidates for sight fishing. “These species are sought after by anglers around the world,” he says, “and they live right here in Virginia.”

Distinction Magazine, Distinctionhr, Hampton Roads Magazine, Virginia Magazine, Fly Fishing, Cobia, Sight Casting, Colby Trow, Mossy Creek Flyfishing, Virginia Beach

Which is what brings us all together on this boat on this hot, still, summer day. The diesel engines drone as we slowly patrol the open ocean. We maintain a silent intensity, searching the water.

Suddenly we spot one.

Bobby Kostinas, who’s been looking out from the hard-top, slings his rod. A bucktail jig arcs through the air like a feathered missile and splashes down a few feet in front of the fish. Kostinas jerks the bucktail once and the cobia pounces. The line comes tight and the angler drives the hook home. With the rod bent double, he climbs down from the hard-top and positions himself in the cockpit for the battle.

Cobia fight dirty. This one charges the boat, dives deep, cuts across the surface, shakes its head, even makes a dash for the propeller. The fisherman dances with the fish, retrieving line when he can, holding tight when he can’t.

After the two trade blows for half an hour, the cobia’s energy is waning. A few more charges and Kostinas has the fish bulldogging closer and closer to the boat. When the fish is in range, Kostinas’ dad, Russ, reaches down and snares the cobia with the net, then lifts it into the boat and flops the fish – a 50-pounder – onto the deck.

Even out of the water, the thick brown fish doesn’t quit fighting. It writhes and bangs around the cockpit. After it finally gives up, a photo is taken for remembrance, and the fish is lowered over the side and released. It gives the crew one last splash of the tail to say goodbye.

Watch our behind the scenes video by Harry Hindmarsh Late Summer Cobia below.

embedded by Embedded Video

vimeo Direkt

 

 

Out of Decay

by MIKE HIXENBAUGH
photography by RICH-JOSEPH FACUN

For the better part of two weeks in the late winter of 1963, workers marched and waved signs outside the red-brick building at the corner of 25th and Fawn streets.

David Pender’s Daylight Bakery had been churning out fresh baked goods for nearly 40 years by then. The little Norfolk plant was built in 1923 to produce bread for dozens of neighborhood markets that bore the Pender name.

David Pender

Before suburban strip plazas and cul-de-sac housing developments, corner grocery stores were a staple of American society – places where housewives shopped daily while exchanging recipes and gossip, or where children could pop in after school to buy penny candy or pickles.

That time was fading fast by 1963, when the local bakers union staged a walkout. The bakers were demanding a pay raise, in part to compensate for difficult working conditions. The old factory was too small – its equipment too old – to keep up with the demands of modern supermarkets. Workers labored long hours through intense heat inside a building that lacked proper ventilation.

The union bosses eventually struck a deal, ensuring a 19-cent raise spread over three years. But even as workers returned, it seemed that the building’s best days had passed.

By the end of the year, suburbanization had sucked the life out of Pender’s old bakery.

Pender’s Bakery and old elevator

Fifty years later – thanks to a spunky businesswoman and a surprising group of local artists – something new is rising at 2501 Fawn Street.

Weeds were growing up the walls and through the windows when Martin Ashley pulled off Church Street and up to the crumbling brick building. Ashley, a metal artist, had been searching for a place in Norfolk where he could ply his craft and thought this might be it.

Trash and used drug needles littered the parking lot. Some windows were boarded over. Inside, pigeons nested in the rafters.

That was 2005 – and the scene was an improvement from just a few years earlier, when Norfolk antique dealer Lana Wolcott purchased the building with grand plans of transforming it into a hub for artists. Given the building’s sad state, it was no surprise that not everyone shared her vision. Of nine people who responded to her advertisement, only Ashley followed through and signed a lease.

Lana Wolcott

“I guess I could see the potential in the place,” says Ashley, a Seattle native who had moved to Norfolk that year to be close to family. “I need a lot of space to do the type of work that I do. That’s one thing the building had. There was lots of space.”

 And character.

 The place was filled with little quirks hinting at its original purpose. Salt crystals covered a section of brick wall near the spot where an industrial mixer once hummed. The old elevator once used to move ingredients up to the second floor still worked but had been red-tagged by the city as a safety hazard. And from the street, when the sun hit it just right, you could still read David Pender’s name on the side of the building.

Ashley was charmed: “You could tell there was something more to this place. It had a story.”

Martin Ashley

Indeed. The story begins in 1923, when David Pender’s name first appeared on the brick in fresh white paint the day the bakery opened. Two decades had passed since the middle-school dropout from Tarboro, North Carolina, scratched together a few hundred dollars to open a grocery store at the corner of Market Street and Monticello Avenue. From those humble roots, he turned the David Pender Grocery Company into a regional chain, with stores in dozens of neighborhoods across southern Tidewater.

The new bakery at Fawn Street was part of a series of shrewd business moves designed to wipe out competition.

The strategy worked.

Pender’s stores became a cultural touchstone of sorts. According to newspaper clippings from the time, they were places where neighbors met for coffee or where women “exchanged gossip along with chatter about the price of beans.” The chain grew to hundreds of stores in four states.

 By the late 1940s, though, something had changed. Shopping habits had shifted, along with housing preferences. Norfolk and Portsmouth residents were moving into modern subdivisions outside city limits. For many, walking to a corner market was no longer part of the daily routine.

One by one, Pender’s neighborhood markets were closed. Eight months after the workers resolved the labor dispute in 1963, Colonial Stores – the national chain that had sprung from Pender’s company – replaced the old bakery at Fawn Street with a modern, “fully-automated” factory in a sprawling Norfolk industrial park on the outskirts of town. The baking equipment was pulled out of the plant and sold for scrap. The lights were flipped off, the windows boarded, the doors chained.

And for much of four decades, the old bakery was forgotten.

Time and neglect had taken their toll by 2002, when Lana Wolcott agreed to buy the building for $210,000. Her friends called her crazy – by her own estimate, the building was “a total dump; to call it a blank hole would have been too kind.” But the antique dealer saw potential – as antique dealers do. Plus, she had already purchased the adjacent warehouse that would later house the Five Points Community Farm Market.

“There are so many cool old buildings in this city just withering away,” Wolcott says, sitting behind a desk at her 21st Street antique shop. “There are many possibilities; it just takes a big idea and someone who’s a little nuts to make it happen.”

This sort of story isn’t unique to Norfolk. Shuttered factories and warehouses dot the post-industrial urban landscape. Every now and again, a visionary with some cash steps forward to redeem one of these relics. The plan usually involves artists.

Like in Nashville, where in 1986 an investor scooped up the old Marathon car factory and turned the campus of buildings into workspaces for artists. Marathon Village, as it came to be known, was a trendy arts and retail district by the time Martin Ashley opened a metal-working studio there two decades later.

“Working there was great, because you were surrounded by talented people doing incredible work,” says Ashley, a jack-of-all trades who became a metal artist after years working in the Washington logging industry. “It was a great atmosphere. There’s something about the raw, industrial feel of an old building.”

Perhaps that’s why he agreed to lease space from Wolcott, despite some significant concerns. For starters, the building had no power. He had to run extension cords from the future farm market to power his heavy-duty welding equipment. The building had no functioning bathrooms. The roof leaked. “It was kind of a mess,” Ashley says.

In exchange for discounted rent, he worked to get the place in shape. He lined up contractors to build walls separating his studio space from the rest of the first-floor warehouse. He used his welding skills to build a new metal casing for the old elevator cables, bringing it up to code. He got rid of three large trees growing in the parking lot and the rats that lived beneath them. He tore down a rusting chain-link fence and built an ornamental iron fence to replace it. He got rid of the pigeons and the weeds.

More than a year passed before Norfolk sculptor Kevin Gallup responded to one of Wolcott’s ads. The man responsible for creating the mold for Norfolk’s iconic mermaid statues was searching for an industrial space where he could legally fire his kiln. Soon he caught his new landlord’s vision. He put his engineering degree to use and helped Ashley make improvements.

“People have this idea that there are no creative or artistic people in Hampton Roads,” said Gallup, who moved to Norfolk in the 1970s. “We’ve always had artists, but we’ve never really had a central location where artists can make and display their work” that’s also big enough to house kilns and large pieces of work. “I felt like this had the potential to be that place.”

Wolcott soon adopted a new mantra: If you restore it, they will come.

Once the cobwebs were cleared, the walls scrubbed and the windows cleaned, more serious artists started showing up. There was the nationally renowned abstract painter. Then came the glass artist from North Carolina. Then the classically trained painter-turned-paper sculptor.

Now more than a dozen artists rent space at Fawn Street, including a photographer, a music producer, video production teams and a graphic designer.

Angelo Mesisco

Upstairs, Angelo Mesisco’s studio is full of large canvases covered with splashes of rich color. The painter – and downtown Norfolk salon owner – has developed a following in international art circles. His abstract paintings and figurative portraits are on display in private collections in London, Paris and New York.

Across the hall, photographer Matt Eich is working on an exhibition titled The Seven Cities, a gallery documenting life in the region where he grew up, from an emotional homecoming on a pier at Norfolk Naval Station to costumed re-enactors in Colonial Williamsburg.

A room over, Victoria Farr has carved out a niche making elaborate paper sculptures. Regulars at Cafe Stella are likely familiar with her work. She shares her small studio with her boyfriend, Alan Jelercic, who makes whimsical illustrations. The couple opened the doors at Fawn Street to the public in March and invited local artists to set up tables – a rare chance for artists to sell their work directly to the public.

Alan Jelercic & Victoria Farr

“There hasn’t really been an opportunity to do that in Hampton Roads,” says Jelercic, who grew up in Virginia Beach. “The suburbs have a way of hiding art. It’s not that there aren’t artists, because there are, but by virtue of suburban design, there is no true public space for artists to share their work.”

Fawn Street has also opened up new opportunities for collaboration. Downstairs, sculptor Diana Caramat is working with Ashley to create a large outdoor piece to display outside Operation Smile’s new headquarters in Virginia Beach. It involves a series of 15-foot steel arches connected to a platform over a walkway.

“It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come from a couple years ago,” says Ashley, standing beneath one of the arches in his workshop. “The quality of people who have opened studios here has surpassed what I ever imagined.”

Wolcott is so encouraged by the activity at Fawn Street that she is already eyeing another nearby warehouse in which she hopes to open a center where residents can recycle and repurpose household items.

“If anyone has any doubt that there are talented people in this city, they need only to take a walk through” the studios at Fawn Street, says Wolcott, who lived in Greenwich Village during the 1970s when it was still the center of New York’s art universe. She sees flashes of that potential in her tenants. “I think some of these people should be completely rich and famous.”

None of them has ever heard of David Pender.

Glass artist Avery Shaffer scoured Norfolk for an old building in which to open a studio when he arrived here from Greensboro a few years ago. He had fallen in love with the parts of town that don’t usually show up in marketing brochures.

He knew immediately that the former bakery at Fawn Street was the spot for him.

Avery Shaffer

“I think there’s a resurgence of art and culture in this city,” Shaffer says, sitting in his studio, surrounded by translucent paintings and bowls made from pieces of scrap glass. A room over, in a section of the building where dough once sat to rise near large windows, he and his partner, an associate art director at the Virginia Stage Com­pany, are making the space a studio apartment.

“Norfolk is such a rich historical town, and the more that we can work together to showcase the past, the more we will feel a connection to it,” Shaffer says. “Sometimes I drive around here, and I can feel lost in the strip-mall kind of world, and when I’m in a space like this or when I go near the docks out by the water and in the industrial areas of Norfolk, I feel more of a connected spirit.”

Shaffer points to large pane-glass windows. He notes the 20-foot ceilings, the industrial concrete floor, the old red-brick walls that stood through the Great Depression but almost collapsed under the pressure of urban decay.

It’s all strangely beautiful.

“Art for me is about finding beauty in all that is around us,” Shaffer says. “When I’m in a building like this, I feel a connection to the past. … I feel like I’m part of a grand story.”

Fawn Street Studios today

Bill Inge and Troy Valos of the Norfolk Public Library’s Sargeant Memorial Collection helped research this article.

Online Exclusive Photos:

Outside Antique Wall Decor, distinction magazine, Distinction, Distinctionhr

Pender Elevator Wheel, distinction Magazine, Distinction, DistinctionhrMartin Ashley's Studio 9 Side Entrance, Norfolk VA, Distinction, Distinctionhr, Distinction MagazineArt Space Side Entrance, Norfolk Art Scene, Norfolk VA, Distinction Magazine, Distinctionhr, Distinction

 

 

 

 

Behind The Scenes Summer Fashion

embedded by Embedded Video

vimeo Direkt

CHKD HOLLY BALL

The 50th annual Holly Ball gala raised more than $95,000 for the cardiac care program at the Children’s Hospital of The King’s Daughters. The December 1 event at Norfolk’s Waterside Marriott drew more than 500.

After a raffle for a five-day trip to Italy and jewelry by Roberto Coin: from left.
Peter Webster of Roberto Coin; winner Jessica Chesson; Marc Fink of Fink’s Jewelers, winner Chandy Jones.

Back Row: Amy and Bill Harrington, Emily and Taylor Franklin.                                                    Front: Wendell and Martha Franklin, and Stephanie Franklin.

Stephanie Calliott, Don London, Joy Parker and David Parker.

Back row, Tom Callahan and King’s Daughters President Kathryn P. Callahan. Jeff George, and Amy Sampson. Norfolk Mayor Paul Fraim and Beth Fraim. Bottom row: Dennis and Josephine Ryan, Mary Dahling and CHKD President and CEO James Dahling.

At the TowneBank table, back row, David Hare and Mary Mitchell, Joan and Alan Bryan, Sherri Matson and Norfolk bank President John Matson. Front, Tom and Sue Ivy; Dr. Herbert E. Bevan III and Renee Bevan.

A toast for the 50th anniversary ball: Sam Segar, husband of second Holly Ball chair, and Marnie Morgan, first chair.

G. Conoly Phillips and Betsy Phillips, with William Van Buren.

Attention to Details

Rob Nicholson started with the details.

When he first launched what has become a local sales empire, he was selling used appliances, and before he put them on the floor, he made sure the old screws on the appliances’ faces had been swapped out for shiny new ones.

Shoppers would prefer his appliances, even if they didn’t know why, he says. “It was because of the stuff you don’t see – you don’t really notice.”

Now, standing in the living room of his beachfront home, he’s as proud of the parts that stand out – a stunning wooden Christ figure, a wall of glass looking out on the surf – as the ones that hide in plain sight, like the trimless walls and vanishing doors.

The clean, cool lines and colors of the International style house in Virginia Beach surround a mix of midcentury Modern furniture and organic, surprising pieces of art, from an African snake sculpture the size of a man to a raw-edged, life-size model of a dog that was carved on the Eastern Shore. “I wanted something that’s startling,” Nicholson says, nodding at the light-flooded living room. “It’s spectacular. It’s grand in its way.”

Nicholson, who turns 50 this month, began building East Coast Appliances and Electronics a year after he left the Navy in 1988. His love of architecture, furniture and design grew in tandem with his business, which has expanded to include a trio of superstores and a boutique. “I started out building my stores,” he says, and then began renovating houses, too, to reflect the art and architecture he discovered during work and travel. “It kind of got out of control.”

It hasn’t been a solo journey, though. His latest endeavor – the Oceanfront condo where he lives in the bottom unit, with a friend in the top unit – was, like several other of his houses, shaped in partnership with Charles Powell and Brent Buehler of Details Interior Design, in Virginia Beach. There was – and still is – a lot of give-and-take. Powell and Nicholson, sitting together at a dining table made from luminous slabs of reclaimed chestnut and now topped with a sculpture of a cheerful pig, offer an overlapping series of taunts and compliments trying to describe how they began working together.

They met years ago for a business dinner – “at a restaurant I hated, by the way,” Powell interjects – to discuss working on Nicholson’s house.

“Much to my chagrin, I realized they were interviewing me,” Nicholson says.

“I got up to leave –” Powell says.

Nicholson gives him a look. Powell rolls his eyes and says this is why he needed to be here, to fill in the gaps of Nicholson’s story.

“Let me tell you how it really happened,” Powell says.

Nicholson capitulates with a sigh. “Well, I don’t remember the details …”

Whatever they dished out at that first discussion, something stuck. As often as he teases his client – Powell frequently howls “Nicholson!” in mock horror and refers, with raised eyebrows, to his “eccentricities” – Powell also describes him as generous, gracious and an eager student. “He was a rare client that really wanted to learn about design.”

What they learned together, through two previous homes at the Beach and one in Florida, was that Nicholson wanted to start over with a home that reflected his interest in modern and industrial spaces. His first plan was to build something resembling a factory loft, but he ended up with a concrete-and-glass house, designed by Beach architect Wayne Anderson, perched on a rare empty beachside lot Nicholson had found. And he wanted to fill it with the treasures he found as a self-taught design student – Modern furniture, pleasantly battered antiques, and oddments from his travels – and that Powell and Buehler found for him. Construction of the house was finished a little over two years ago, but decorating it began earlier and never truly ended.

One by one, as he saw designs he liked, Nicholson would email photos of his furniture discoveries to Powell and Buehler (who themselves are now planning a boutique).

“Some people watch the news,” Nicholson says. “I’m on eBay. I shop constantly. I don’t buy – I shop.”

“He drove us crazy,” Powell says.

“I still do that,” Nicholson says.

“He’s a man with a passion, my dear,” Powell says. “And Brent and I are designers of passion.”

Nicholson’s passion for furniture and art has led to some challenges, he admits.

“I love midcentury Modern,” he says. “My problem is, I love it all.” And even in a big house, there’s only so much room to work with.

Consider his collection of chairs and stools, which fill the house, not just as furniture, but as display objects, including a 2-foot-tall sale sample of a stool that he bought without realizing how shrimpy it was. At one point, his fiancee, Meredith Balak, counted his chairs; there were 35. “I could not believe it,” she says, groaning.

Finding things he likes isn’t hard, he says. “The trick that I can’t master is what they do,” he says, gesturing at Powell.

“To put it all together,” Powell says.

One of the spots where it all comes together is the living room. It feels relaxed, but it’s a carefully curated collection of pieces – a pair of white Barcelona chairs at one side, a couch at the other. The sleek Modern coffee table crouches between them, and one corner is filled by a handsome Papa Bear chair, still clothed in its original lavender fabric. On the wall is a shiny chrome skull and antlers, a bit of sculpture that Nicholson plucked out of a jewelry display.

Nearly hidden in a cubby is the one part of the house that gets messy, a desk where Nicholson piles his work. The desk was Powell’s find, a piece with great lines but missing its original top, reworked with a new (but not quite authentic) slab of wood that Nicholson found. It’s not the only thing he’s tinkered with.

Just as he is a hands-on businessman who’s done his own TV ads and weighed in on store design, he’s a hands-on designer willing to take apart a handsome couch he’s just bought, then reglue it and clamp it together in the middle of the room. “He’ll try to fix anything,” Balak says.

Of course, putting things together tends to be more fun than keeping them going, he admits. He likes new projects, but “I’m not good with maintaining.” (To that end, this house is for sale, although he says he isn’t pushing hard to sell it.)

The kitchen, which flows into the living and dining space, is unobtrusively handsome, low-maintenance, unfussy. Wooden cabinetry with a cerused finish – white highlighting the grain of the wood – lines the walls, and the upper cabinets have fold-up doors of stainless steel and ribbed glass that lend an industrial touch. Down the hall, a powder room mixes subtly elegant touches with an attention-getting floor covered in pennies – a look Nicholson says he saw on his travels and decided was worth stealing.

Next to an upstairs sitting area, an open-tread staircase Nicholson insisted on – “Charles and Brent hate my staircase” – leads down to a suite he calls “the cave.” Here, in a guest bedroom, he points out subtleties – exposed beams, glass doors to maximize the light, a shower with an unusual backward arrangement of faucet and showerhead that began as a mistake and became a point of pride. At the downstairs entry, visitors are greeted by a round table topped with a 19th-century Brazilian water jar – like the Christ figure, a bit of contrast to the house’s sharp edges.

Powell pauses to admire pieces here and there with marks of age, a bit of tarnish, worn paint. It prompts a discussion of the right way to pronounce “patina” and then a detour into Nicholson and Powell’s favorite horror story about, as Powell puts it, “that damn lamp.”

It was Nicholson’s find to begin with – a metal lamp shaped like a ram’s horn, nothing particularly distinguished, except that it was so beautifully weathered. As he puts it: “I had a lamp that looked like it was on Ernest Hemingway’s desk.”

It was in poor shape, though, and needed a new shade and a bit of repair. Powell handed it off to a repair shop. They repaired it a bit too much. “I go to pick it up – they’d polished and lacquered it,” Powell says.

“The damn thing looks like I bought it at Kmart,” Nicholson sighs. But he couldn’t get rid of it, because now it had a different sort of patina. “Now it’s a story.”

Powell describes the whole episode as an example of who Nicholson is. “If he was an asshole, if he cared more about things than relationships –.” He shrugs.

Nicholson brushes off the compliment.

“Now I like it better because it was a screw-up,” he says.

As Nicholson walks through the house, he catalogs what he likes, what went wrong, what he might do differently. In the backyard, he loves the hand-shaped towel knobs, but wonders if he should have made the pool smaller. The shape of the pillars on the deck was his idea; the yard’s design came from Norfolk landscape architect Doug Aurand.

Although the yard isn’t large, the ocean beyond gives it a vast feel. A series of concrete tiers step down to the beach, so close that the East Coast storm Sandy covered the lower tier with a bank of sand. Stripes of tile and unobtrusive ground cover plantings fill the gaps. Nicholson pauses to admire the view, then slides open the door for Traveller, a muscular blue heeler-Australian shepherd mix who leaps from level to level, toy in mouth, hopping over a trio of concrete garden spheres that are already collecting a beachside patina.

This windswept beach is a far piece from where he grew up. Nicholson likes to joke that he’s “from L.A. – Lower Alabama,” and Powell likes to tease him about it, too: “You can take the boy out of the country,” he says more than once.

Nicholson is unbothered by the country-boy jokes. In plenty of ways, he’s the same person he’s always been, he says. “The things you like – they don’t change, but you appreciate them more.”

In the master suite at the back of the house, as everywhere else, “the envelope is clean, clean, clean,” as Powell says, but what fills it shows an endearing mix of influences.

There’s a black bearskin on the floor from a bear Nicholson shot himself. In the bedroom, a tall cactus sculpture rises along one wall. One of his treasures crouches against another wall – a Nakashima chest with its undulating top and precise, asymmetrical dovetailing. And, of course, the infamous horn lamp sits on a dresser.

The master bath includes a massive freestanding tub where Nicholson likes to soak and read, and walls that curve out to hide a shower and toilet. “The undulating walls and how they fold in – it’s very sensuous,” Powell says. A tall sculpture – a Rhodesian rainbird – stands sentry. “It also makes a good towel-holder,” he jokes.

The room is another example of the group’s careful attention to vanishing detail: Towels hang on discreet knobs, not bars, and the medicine cabinet is painted to blend almost seamlessly into the wall.

But the spot where Nicholson’s laid-back charisma and Powell’s high-drama exuberance come together best is in a corner of the living room where the 16th-century wooden Christ figure hangs on the wall. It’s a striking piece, chosen for its individual beauty and for its burnished wood, curving lines and emotional jolt. Though it was originally polychromed, most of the color is worn off, except for a spot on the forehead where a crown of thorns would have rested. At the shoulders and knees – one of Nicholson’s favorite details – the wood is sliced to show the agony of bone protruding from flesh.

The piece was Powell’s find at an estate sale, and Powell’s partner, Buehler, hated it on sight.

“He said, ‘You’re not buying that. It’s gruesome.’ I said, ‘Oh my God. I like drama.’ All night, my heart burned.”

Powell returned the next day and bought it.

“I bought that for me,” Powell says.

“And I bugged the shit out of him,” Nicholson says.

This time, Powell surrendered, and the piece found its niche in Nicholson’s living room – for now, at least. After all, it’s a continuing partnership, and the house, like everything else, is changing, and changing the people who’ve worked on it.

Powell looks lovingly at the sculpture one more time, then moves on to the next piece he wants to discuss. “Whatever commission you’re working on,” he says, “it never leaves you where you started.”

Beer Reborn

by MIKE HIXENBAUGH
photography by RICH-JOSEPH FACUN

Two decades before the craft beer explosion swept Hampton Roads, one of the nation’s most celebrated microbrews flowed from old dairy tanks in a tiny plant off London Bridge Road.

It was 1986, long before Sierra Nevada and New Belgium became staples on grocery store beer racks, and a 26-year-old Allen Young had just landed in Virginia Beach. He joined a ragtag group of beer lovers with radical plans to sell German-style specialty beers on the East Coast.

Together they started Chesapeake Bay Brewing Company and soon became rising stars in a fledgling industry, winning a gold medal in the inaugural Great American Beer Festival taste contest the very next year and establishing a cult following in the brew pubs of suburban Washington.

“We were like rock stars up there,” a more grizzled Young says now, recalling the response in D.C. after the little-known brewery unveiled its signature Chesbay Double Bock. “But down here – down the street from where we were actually making this stuff – we couldn’t get anyone to buy in. We were brewing a dark, malty beer in a strictly Budweiser kind of town.”

Allen Young

Only a handful of Beach pubs agreed to sell the award-winning beer. Six-packs of the brewery’s other offerings – Chesbay Amber and Chesbay Gold – collected dust on store shelves. Within a few years, the operation was shuttered.

“We were way ahead of our time and on the wrong coast,” Young says. “They weren’t ready for us.”

He left Virginia Beach in 1990 to work at another brewery, in an Ohio college town. When he returned in 2006, something had changed.

A beer revolution was brewing in Hampton Roads.

Weeks before Allen Young and his friends tapped their first barrel, Chris Jones and his wife, Diane Catanzaro, were falling in love with beer in a dimly lighted Norfolk parking lot. It was their first time attending a meeting of the Hampton Roads Brewing and Tasting Society. The club’s half-dozen members were gathered around a white van behind a bar on Colley Avenue and pouring samples of homemade brews into plastic cups.

Catanzaro remembers sipping a bold blueberry ale – it was unlike anything she had ever tasted – and asking the club’s president how he’d made it. In this spot behind what’s now Public House, he whipped out a notepad and enthusiastically read through a list of ingredients and detailed brewing instructions. Within weeks, Jones and Catanzaro were working on their own batch. “What we were making was so much better than anything you could buy in a store,” she says. “Back then, if you wanted to drink a good beer – anything with a little bit of color and taste – you had to make it yourself.”

The couple became evangelists for craft beer. They invited friends to drink their creations – sometimes brewed using hops grown in their backyard. They served nothing but imported specialty beers at dinner parties and chastised guests who insisted on bringing six-packs of Bud Light. Some friends called them beer snobs; others joined the home brewing club.

“Change takes time,” Jones says, sipping homemade India pale ale at home in Ghent. “It’s a long-term investment in your friends to get them to go from drinking swill to drinking things that are wonderful. They have to try it a couple times. Eventually they come to realize how a good beer ought to taste and smell. We’ve seen the same process play out in the domestic beer market.”

Jones and Catanzaro swirl and sniff beer before sipping from small glasses and speak in terms a wine connoisseur might use to describe the flavor and texture of a drink. For years, the only decent beer they bought came from vacations in Belgium. Now they can walk a few blocks and get some of their favorite beer, straight from the craft brewery on 25th Street.

Kevin O’Connor’s father scoffed when he came home from college in 1995 and said he wanted to open a brewery in Norfolk. “You’re just an Irish kid who’s been drinking too much,” his old man told him.

Every home-brewer-turned-wannabe-businessman who had come before him had failed in South Hampton Roads – including Steamship Brewing Company in Norfolk. A few startups lasted only weeks before closing. O’Connor took his dad’s advice and, though he interned at Steamship that summer, set his dream aside. He eventually earned a degree in business management from Old Dominion University and went to work in sales for a local food distributor.

Kevin O’Connor

Years passed as O’Connor foundered in an unfulfilling job. In his free time, he drank specialty beers and scribbled detailed business plans on bar napkins. He watched from afar as microbreweries opened in every progressive city in the country. His own city lagged far behind.

In 2005, the girlfriend who would later become his wife told him to snap out of his funk. “You brew beer in the backyard,” she told him. “That’s your passion. Why don’t you just quit your job?”

He did, and soon he was learning the industry while volunteering at St. George Brewing Company in Hampton – until then the region’s lone microbrewery success story. Later he took a sales job with a specialty beer distributor, where he learned firsthand the challenges of getting craft beer onto store shelves.

He squirreled away what he could and borrowed money from family and friends. He leased a dingy warehouse, bought used equipment online and traveled to Rhode Island to load more than a dozen tanks onto a flatbed truck. With the help of friends, he installed the system himself.

The list of microbreweries to launch, then fizzle, had grown even longer by the time O’Connor filled the fermenters at his 25th Street plant for the first time. He filled his first barrel of Norfolk Canyon Pale Ale in April of 2010, and his friends at Cogan’s Pizza agreed to sell a sample batch on tap that weekend.

If history were a guide, O’Connor’s little brewery would sputter. He had already calculated how much money he could recover by scrapping his equipment. He looked around the bustling pizzeria, seeing a room full of college students and young professionals.

He hoped this time would be different.

The brewery Allen Young helped open in Virginia Beach years earlier was pieced together using old equipment from a shuttered R.C. Cola plant, scrap dairy tanks and refurbished parts harvested from decommissioned Navy vessels.

The brewery’s signature creation, the Chesbay Double Bock, was revolutionary in these parts – a strong yet smooth brew with a low hops profile.

“It was a hit with beer enthusiasts, but we were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” says Young, who brewed his first batch of beer as a squeaky-voiced middle schooler. “At that time we were about the same size or bigger than Sierra Nevada out in California. If we had been on Chico Bay instead of the Chesapeake Bay, we might be telling a different story right now.”

Sierra Nevada went global; Chesapeake Bay Brewing went under.

Sixteen years later, in 2006, Young took a call from an old colleague. A Gordon Biersch restaurant was going to open at a new development in Virginia Beach called Town Center, and the chain restaurant’s manager was looking for someone to run its microbrewery.

“By then the craft beer craze had swept just about every major market in the country, but it still hadn’t taken off in Hampton Roads,” Young says. “This region was sort of the last great frontier for craft beer.”

He had always believed a microbrewery could succeed in South Hampton Roads. He came back to prove it.

Bottling at O’Connors Brewery

Kevin O’Connor emptied 15 kegs that opening weekend at Cogan’s and at another nearby bar, much more than he’d expected. Six months later, he was sitting on a stool at A.W. Shucks Raw Bar and Grill when he heard his name spoken at the other end of the bar.

“You got any of that O’Connor beer?” a burly shipyard worker asked.

The bartender poured a pint of O’Connor’s Green Can Golden Ale, then motioned toward the man who’d brewed it. The worker with a gray beard and dirty jumpsuit sprang out of his seat, walked toward O’Connor and greeted him with a slap on the back.

“I’ve been drinking Bud Light since I was 12 years old,” the gruff old shipyard worker said. “And I’ve got to hand it to you; I’m a craft believer now. I love your beer. It’s all I drink.”

O’Connor knew then he’d made it – even in this blue-collar port town.

More than two years later, he can’t keep up with demand. With O’Connor and his small staff often working 18-hour days to stay ahead of orders, his modest plant is churning out more than 1,000 kegs and 15,000 bottles a month. Thanks to a previously unheard-of partnership with a major beer distributor, Hoffman Beverage Company, O’Connor’s creations can be found at dozens of grocery stores and on taps across the region – from local bars to Applebee’s restaurants.

Boots at O’Connor and Smartmouth Cleaning Up

“Our business is not glamorous at all,” he says, standing in rubber boots outside his facility as an automated bottler hums. “It’s cold; it’s hot; it’s wet. The cool part is going to a bar and seeing people drinking your beer. They don’t see behind the scenes where you’re burning your arm or spilling chemicals on your knee or you’ve cut your fingers because you’re bottling right now. But we’re making it.”

O’Connor’s success seems to have paved the way for others. Three other microbreweries have started up in South Hampton Roads since early 2010, and at least one more is on the way.

Hundreds of people gathered at Town Center last fall for the inaugural Arts and Drafts beer festival. Each of the region’s microbrewers poured samples, and beer lovers danced to live music. Gordon Biersch, which organized the event, has been packed since the day it opened in 2006, says Young, at the time Biersch’s head brewer for the Mid-Atlantic region.

“It’s like a complete reversal from my days at Chesbay,” he says. “Now people show up at bars and stores, and they want to know what’s local. Hampton Roads might have been late to the party, but the market is blowing up now.”

Take Porter Hardy IV, who walked away from his comfortable life as a corporate lawyer last year to open Smartmouth Brewing Company in a 9,500-square-foot warehouse in West Ghent. The former home-brewer’s American amber was flowing at numerous pubs by late fall.

From left: Smartmouth’s Porter Hardy and Beach Brewing’s Justin MacDonald

And at Beach Brewing in Virginia Beach, Justin MacDonald and his wife, Kristin, celebrated the brewery’s two-year anniversary in October at a festival outside the factory on Horse Pasture Road. Like O’Connor, MacDonald has used skills learned while earning a business degree at Old Dominion University to market his specialty beer, which is on tap at several Oceanfront restaurants. MacDonald will have competition from Back Bay Brewing, a Beach startup that started selling a full-bodied red ale at a few restaurants last fall. Also in Virginia Beach, a pair of former soldiers who served in the Iraq war have been raising money to launch Young Veterans Brewing. They have plans for an entire line of military-themed brews, including a “Jet Noise Double IPA” and a “New Recruit Honey Blonde.”

On the Peninsula, St. George’s and Williamsburg’s AleWerks each reported seeing sales figures nearly double over the past few years.

And two years after The Birch bar opened in West Ghent, with all of its 21 taps dedicated to obscure craft beers, owner Ben Bublick and his wife, Malia, said they’ve seen their customer base grow beyond beer aficionados.

“I always drank Pabst Blue Ribbon before I started coming here,” one of those customers, Steve Billings, said between sips of an $8 witbier from Japan. “I’d rather pay more and try something new.”

People didn’t talk like that in the 1980s. Back then, Allen Young would have been happy to get a handful of nearby restaurants to sell Chesbay on tap. He came to Virginia Beach the first time to learn the tricks of the trade. He returned two decades later with a well-earned nickname: “The Kevin Bacon of Beer.” “In the world of craft beer, people measure their connections against the Six Degrees of Allen Young,” says Paul Hutchings, president of the Hampton Roads Brewing and Tasting Society. “That guy has worked everywhere.”

Along the way, he never forgot Hampton Roads.

“I always knew we could do it in this market,” he says.  “If we could just get the product in front of the sailors over at Oceana, or if we could get a grocery store to put our cases on a display rack, I knew people would buy it. That’s finally happening now.”

Need more proof? In January, Young accepted a sales job with a company that imports raw beer ingredients and sells them to craft breweries. As recently as 10 years ago, there wasn’t a market for the position in this part of the country, Young says. His new bosses wanted him to live someplace within a half-day’s drive of at least 50 breweries – a location at the center of the craft beer boom.

They agreed to let him stay in Virginia Beach.

A few months after moving here for the second time, Young was reminded that things didn’t always work that way. While browsing the racks at a long-established wine and beer shop on Laskin Road, he spotted a familiar-looking case sitting on a shelf.

Last known bottle of Chesbay Beer

He blinked hard and looked again.

There sat six unopened bottles of Chesbay Gold. Allen Young laughed when the store owner explained the 20-year-old relic.

Nobody ever bought the last six-pack.

Bent On Speed

by Larry Printz
photography courtesy of Bentley

On its way to a top speed of 205 mph, the 2013 Bentley Continental GT Speed hits 60 at four seconds. It’s got 616 horses working on it. By contrast, the 2013 Bentley Continental GT V8 gets there in 4.6 seconds – with 500 horsepower and a top speed of 185 mph.

 How’s that for some fast company?

 To drive the revised 2013 GT Speed alongside its new V8 sibling is to witness the changing nature of performance, the old guard enjoying one last sprint before bowing to its more efficient younger brother. Yet both cars retain the very essence of a Bentley: elegance, exclusivity and – of course – speed.

Piloting either of these cars at legal speeds in the United States leaves almost two-thirds or more of its speed untapped. That’s how I ended up in Germany, on the Autobahn, heading toward Berchtesgaden behind the wheel of the 2013 GT Speed.

 With twin turbochargers and higher compression, the GT Speed’s 6.0-liter 12-cylinder engine boasts an extra 49 horsepower over the Continental GT’s standard 567-horsepower 12-cylinder. It’s mated to a new eight-speed automatic transmission that can be shifted manually by paddles mounted on the steering column. This adds an extra bit of entertainment to the proceedings but, given the engine’s massive amount of horsepower, proves unnecessary.

 The GT Speed gets a few tweaks besides horsepower. Bentley lowered the car’s ride height and stiffened the electronically controlled damping and steering systems. Optional carbon ceramic disc brakes are offered in place of the standard iron discs. A new engine management system is capable of processing 180 million calculations per second. This sort of processing power helps when the driver hits the sport button on the center console, which gives this already quick car an extra shot of responsiveness. It also enlivens the eight-speed transmission, which is capable of downshifting up to five gears in a single step.

Visually, the GT Speed receives unique 21-inch wheels, a darkened front grille and diamond-pattern quilted leather seat trim. The GT Speed is fierce and spoiling for a fight, but there on the Autobahn, I have to wait. Contrary to popular belief, there are speed limits in spots, and they are strictly enforced. So I am mindful of the 75 mph speed limit as I first enter the highway.

 I make my way over to the left lane, which is empty, save for a very slow-moving BMW 5 Series in front of me. I flash the Bentley’s headlights. The BMW doesn’t move aside. I wait patiently before flashing again. No response. The Bentley can barely contain itself; its driveline rumbles and vibrates with menace, waiting to be unleashed like a hunting dog straining to be let loose.

Finally, a police car rolls up alongside us. I flash my lights at the BMW once more. This time, the BMW pulls over, just as the traffic diminishes and the speed limit is removed. The vacant left lane unfurls before me. I bury the throttle. The Bentley sets its sights on the gray ribbon reaching skyward to the Bavarian Alps. The car lets loose with a brutal intensity, all four wheels pouring out the power with ease.

 The car is used to this. I am not.

 I grin helplessly as the scenery blurs and the speed climbs. I glance at the speedometer: 160 mph and climbing. My heart races as I listen to the engine at full throttle, singing its mechanical symphony with an intensity that would make Richard Wagner jealous. This is driving with the volume set to 11. I am in heaven.

 Almost, as it turns out.

 As I am reaching the crescendo, gunning for 205 mph, an Audi A2, in a fit of passive-aggressive driving, pops in front of me to slow me down. Once more, my heart leaps into my throat. Not from the thrill of speed but from the fear of obliteration. I jump on the brake pedal and massive ceramic brakes go to work, slowing the car to a mere 95 mph.

This exercise in acceleration revealed the GT Speed’s true personality.

The mechanical fiddling by engineers has had a big impact on the car, lending it an aggressive edginess that seems out of place in a car where everything else has been buffed to a relentless sheen. This begs the question: Does the GT Speed have too much power? Is it overkill? The answer lies in driving the new Continental GT V8. The GT V8 was introduced in mid-2012 and is the Speed’s mirror opposite. Instead of adding power to the standard Continental GT, the GT V8 subtracts it.

Not that you’d notice. After all, this car’s twin-turbocharged V8 is still a member of the under-five-second, zero-to-60 club and is more than capable of getting you in trouble with the constable. Most drivers will never notice the extra half-second while driving to 60 mph, nor the 20 mph on the top end. Instead, you’ll appreciate the refinement with which the new GT V8 dishes out its speed.  Its exhaust note is perfect, mellow and deep, without the aggressive quality of the GT Speed. The V8’s driveline seems much more appropriate for this car’s station: that of the opulent grand touring car.

Some may object to a Bentley that lacks 12 cylinders. For these buyers, the “grand” in “grand touring car” seems to imply 12 cylinders, as it has for decades. But it’s hard to ignore the V8’s superior efficiency, especially at the pump: It returns an extra 2 mpg in city driving, 4 mpg on the highway. Given the price of the car, fuel economy may seem a minor concern. But one suspects that tightening government fuel economy standards may make the choice for you in the not-too-distant future.

Thanks to the Continental GT’s all-wheel-drive system, which funnels 60 percent of the car’s power to the rear wheels, grip is very strong, particularly in corners. At the same time its 2½-ton curb weight makes hustling through corners a bit of a challenge. In that regard, the Continental GT is no different from other cars. After all, there are plenty of less-expensive cars that can scorch blacktop. Where the Bentley differs, and what few cars offer, is that it can transport you this quickly in such opulent surroundings.

I n a Bentley, most of your surroundings are crafted by hand.

The care with which the car is assembled can be seen at the factory in Crewe, England. It seems less like an outpost of a giant multinational corporation than an oversized craftsman’s workshop. It takes 37 hours to cross-stitch a single Continental GT seat, 15 to hand-stitch the leather-wrapped steering wheel. The 10 bull hides required to fully line a Continental GT interior are closely inspected for flaws. (Cowhides are not used; they typically have stretch marks.)

Sixteen hours are required to assemble the GT’s 12-cylinder engine.

And it can take Bentley’s woodworkers weeks to source and select the proper premium wood veneer. Nineteen leaves of veneer are used to create the 17 wood-trim panels in a Continental GT. The veneers are book matched and given five coats of lacquer by robots, one of the only places in the factory where robots are used. After three days of curing, the wood is polished by hand. Bentley workers check the finished instrument panels to ensure the book-matched veneer doesn’t inadvertently form an unsuitable image. (Don’t ask about the skull incident.)

Once the approximately 620 components are ready, it will take 150 hours to build the Continental GT, using 5,800 spot welds and 669 self-piercing rivets. Then the Continental’s body spends 22 hours in metal finishing to ensure a flawless finish once painted.

Bentley builds in a day what most automakers build in less than an hour.

The relaxed tempo and hand-built construction easily allows for customer customization. You can make your bespoke Bentley painted to match your favorite nail polish or have your cabin fitted with a humidor. The company will accommodate you to a point. Don’t bother asking for your new Continental GT’s interior to be trimmed in alligator skin or have a lap-dance pole installed. When requested, the company refused.

Then again, you may not want something bespoke.

The Mulliner Driving Specification, standard on GT Speed, optional on others, features seats, door trim and rear quarter panels of diamond-quilted perforated leather. The cabin headliner is also finished in leather. Bentley emblems can be embroidered on the headrests at extra cost. It’s aromatherapy at its finest.

And let’s not forget its agelessly stunning sleek shape. It’s what attracts most buyers in the first place. Then, once a prospect is behind the wheel, the automobile’s effortless speed closes the sale. With its new powertrains, the Continental GT is very fast, able to handle the high speed of the Autobahn. But it is no sports car; it’s too large and too heavy.

Instead, consider it one of the world’s fastest, most exclusive and most comfortable grand touring machines, regardless of which engine you choose.

Room To Grow

by JANINE LATUS
illustrations by WALT TAYLOR

A lawn. A couple of shrubs. Maybe a clump or two of gerbera daisies and a spring-flowering tree. That’s a garden, right?

Perhaps, but the best ones are so much more. They’re rooms where you want to sit and read a book or gather family and friends for a glass of wine or a long, slow meal. They’re places of mystery, with something new to see around each bend in the trail. They’re an extension of a home, a gift to the neighborhood, a space designed like the interior of the house, with busy areas for entertaining and zenlike spaces for quiet contemplation.

They have doorways and windows, and soft floors of turf or ground cover, or hard ones of brick or wood or paving stones. They have walls and actual furniture but also furnishings that meld and complement like the wall coloring and upholstery and objets d’art inside a well-decorated home, and just as you thought through the floor plan of your home and where you’d put the couch and the bed and the prized vase, so you can’t create your private Eden by simply impulse-shopping at a big-box store on the weekend.

You need a plan.

LAY IT OUT

Start by spending time in the space and writing down what you see, says landscape architect Jane Cantin, of Cantin Stubbs Landscape, in Norfolk and London. Look for the view you want to frame and the one you want to hide. List the plants you love and the ones you no longer notice. Consider the view from inside looking out but also from the outside looking back. Look at archways and window shapes and blank expanses of wall that could serve as backdrops. Look at the existing palette of colors, whether beachfront browns and grays or bright expanses of golf-course green.

Then think about your dreams. Do you want a space to entertain, or a secret refuge where you can nestle away from the world – or both? Even small spaces can have multiple rooms.

“I’ve always designed outdoor spaces similar to designing a building, with a sequence of articulated rooms and hallways,” says Doug Aurand of Norfolk’s Siska Aurand Landscape Architects. “That’s what makes a garden feel comfortable or exciting.”

So where will people enter your rooms, and where will they move from there? Consider their feet and their eyes – where they will go physically but also how their eye will be drawn along a path to the view, whether of something in the distance or of your chosen centerpiece. Stand at the driveway and the sidewalk and the door. Imagine stepping from the kitchen to your outdoor eating area, from the back deck to your quiet reading chair.

Do you want a shazam centerpiece? If so, will that be a pool, or a fountain, or a pit for fire? Will it be a patio with a pizza oven, a prized plant or a great piece of sculpture?

Now think about shape. Great gardens, like great music, have repetition and rhythm, and you can get that by choosing a shape that complements the surroundings and then repeating it over and over, in the architecture of the rooms, the borders of the beds, the accents of furniture and plants. If there’s a curve to the top of your doorway, consider making your shape a circle as an echo to that arch. If your house is a box, then anchor it and mirror it by making your spaces square.

Amorphous beds might look good initially, says Brian O’Neil, director of horticulture at the Norfolk Botanical Garden, but they don’t stand the test of time; someone sprinkles a little extra grass seed here or there and what was a kidney bean becomes a blob. Instead, pick your shape and then border your beds with something solid, like brick, to create a stable structure as the plants themselves grow and change.

Says Cantin, “I’m looking for some sort of harmony between the house, the garden, the owners and the surrounding landscape. I have to have all of that before I can even think of pretty stuff like specific plants.”

WALLS & DOORWAYS

What is a wall but an encloser of space, whether real or illusory? Inside a home walls are usually solid, although furniture can be arranged to imply separation, one segment of a room from another. Likewise, walls in gardens can be as real as the back of a house or as insubstantial as a pair of banana trees.

If you’re lucky enough to have a real wall, consider embellishing it with espaliered shrubs or flat-backed baskets dripping flowers, or a trellis spilling over with roses or vines.

Anything vertical can serve as a wall, and with the introduction of hybrid Asian boxwoods, the old-fashioned hedge may be making a comeback, whether tall around the periphery of a property or knee-height as a room divider.

“People stopped using them because they have to be trimmed,” O’Neil says, “but if you think of what you’re creating as a living space rather than just a garden or a yard, you’d be more inclined to do the maintenance.”

Stand-alone trellises can be walls, as can large pots full of striking plants.

“When in doubt, go big,” Cantin says. “Try not to clutter the space with lots of small pots. Big pots create boundaries, they make a statement, they bring in color, height, texture and variety – the passementerie of the garden.”

Your walls will be backdrops to repeating layers of height and color and texture, but they’ll need doorways. If your chosen shape is a circle, then echo the archway with an arbor over the entry. If it’s square, consider hanging a gate and flanking it with spiky plants standing sentry. It’s important to make an entrance.

FLOORS

Just as you have a blend of carpet and hardwood and tile inside your home, so should your floors outside be soft and hard. No wall-to-wall green carpet inside; no endless grass out. Instead, pick floorings that vary and repeat, balancing one another both practically and visually, and leading both eye and body where you want them to go.

 At last fall’s East Beach Homearama, Cantin used blue-gray paving stones to tie in to the gray of the dunes and the blue of the nearby water. She started with 3-foot squares right off the deck to give people a place to pause to decide where to go, instead of “just being tossed into the space,” then used matching medium-sized pavers in the entertaining area to create a floor where chairs can slide in and out from the family table, and a smaller version to create a walkway from one room to the next. Tight lines of dwarf mondo grass create the mortar, both for visual softness and to let water percolate into the soil rather than run off into the Chesapeake Bay.

In one area of the Norfolk Botanical Garden, designers used herringbone patterns of brick outlined with old cobblestones to draw the eye to a central fountain. The cobblestones add color contrast to the brick but also give the garden a sense of place, since they came here as ballast on Colonial-era ships and for decades lined the city’s streets.

Houses and gardens need hard and soft, yin and yang. Both.

FURNISHINGS

Your plants are the draperies, upholstery and furnishings in your garden home. They echo off one another, layering and repeating to create a mood, a sense of place.

You want a layer at ground level, one a little higher, one a little higher still – tall, vertical plants to draw the eye upward, low ground covers to form a carpet, feathery ferns in front of broad-leaved cast iron plants, trees with their lower branches pruned away to show off their lovely legs, shades of light green against dark. Layer upon layer upon layer, repeating and repeating, the silvery-white variegated Japanese iris stalks reflected in their counterparts down the path, then repeated in the whiteness of the flowers along the way.

“Everything ties together,” Cantin says. “The same paving material but in different patterns, the same species of plants but in different varieties. Otherwise it looks like you couldn’t decide, so you just got one of everything.”

Read the labels so you know eventual heights and growth patterns, and look for year-round beauty.

“It’s easy to fall into the rut of making a spring garden,” O’Neil says. “Azaleas, camellias and dogwoods are all well and good, but what happens the rest of the year?”

Go for long-bloomers and fall color, and plants that are interesting if they never bloom at all. Think, too, of the wildlife that plants attract – darting hummingbirds and butterflies like flittering blossoms, and – if you create a water garden – mosquito-eating toads.

Here are a few easily grown perennials (and one funky annual) for your consideration, provided by Brian O’Neil, the horticulture director at Norfolk Botanical Garden.

You can see samples of all of them and hundreds of other easily grown, striking plants there.  No heavy chemicals needed, no intensive watering, no weekends spent on your knees weeding – not once a ground cover is established. Promise.

GROUNDCOVERS

~ Purple heart Wandering Jew (Tradescantia pallida): A bright purple color that thrives in harsh, bright, well-drained conditions.

~ White velvet (Tradescantia sillamontana): A cousin to the Wandering Jew and just as sturdy in bright heat. Looks silvery because of white, fuzzy hairs on the leaves.

~ Asparagus fern (Asparagus densiflorus “springeri”): A feathery, frondy light green that dies down in the winter and comes back in the spring.

~ Japanese iris (Iris japonica): A great spreading and flowering ground cover that does well in the shade.

~ Mondo grass (Ophiopogon japonica): Small, fine leaves that make a carpetlike ground cover in shady spaces. Its relative, dwarf mondo grass, is great between stepping stones in the shade. Both tolerate root-filled, dry soil.

~ Persian chocolate moneywort (Lysimachia congestiflora): Creates a carpet of dark foliage that’s topped in the spring with star-shaped yellow flowers.

~ Asian star jasmine (Trachelospermum asiaticum): A rapid grower with foliage that looks like periwinkle. Does well in hot shade.

TALL

~ Banana plant (Musa basjoo): Gives a dramatic, tropical feel to a space.

~ Witch hazel (Hamamelis): Spidery, spicy-smelling fall-to-winter blooms in reds, yellows and oranges.

~ Candlestick (Cassia alata): The only annual on this list, it starts as a seed and sends up golden candlesticks of flowers in late summer and into the fall.

~ Hardy citrus (Citrus reticulata “Changsha”): A cold-hardy evergreen that produces bounteous mandarins.

~ Silver dollar eucalyptus (Eucalyptus cinerea): Great gray-green leaves that look like coins; bark that peels away in patterns; and that Vicks VapoRub smell.

~ Night-blooming jasmine (Cestrum nocturnum): Scentless in the daytime and then generous with its perfume during the night, from late summer into the fall.

VINES

~ Passion flower vine (Passiflora x “incense”): Intricate purple-blue flowers that some people say tell the story of the Crucifixion.

~ Brazilian firecracker vine (Manettia cordifolia): Wiry, thin stems covered with small orange-red flowers that look like mini-firecrackers; hummingbirds love it.

LOW LAYER

~ Japanese ardisia (Ardisia japonica “Chirimen”): A low, spreading evergreen with corrugated-looking leaves and little red berries in the winter. It makes a great ground carpet.

~ Silver lance dwarf ginger (Alpinia pumila): A silver-striped leaf that does well in the shade, stays green even when temperatures fall into the upper teens, and produces a small, red-and-white-striped bloom in the spring.

~ Ferns: These offer a broad selection of textures and heights, grow well in shade and can provide a gorgeous textural contrast to broad-leafed plants.

 

MID LAYER

~ Cast iron plant (Aspidistra elatior): An evergreen here, with broad, shiny leaves, and so named because it’s so sturdy, even in poor conditions.

~ Crinum lily (Crinum): Long-blooming, fragrant and sturdy.

~ Japanese iris (Iris ensata): Has dinner-plate-size blooms late in the spring.

~ Anemone (Ranunculaceae): Great fall blooms of pink or white or red that bob on top of long stems; does well in partial shade.

~ Lenten rose hellebore (Helleborus x hybridus): Blooms in the winter and comes in a lot of varieties – near-black, yellow, singles, doubles, spotted flowers – and so hardy it’ll thrive in dry, rooty, shady soil.

~ Cigar flower (Cuphea ignea): Has small, tubular orange flowers with black tips that look like the ash on a cigar; blooms all summer and into fall; does well in hot full sun.

~ Uruguayan firecracker (Dicliptera suberecta): Has silvery-white fuzzy hairs on the leaf and an orange tubular flower that hummingbirds love.

~ Shrimp plant (Justicia brandegeana): Creates pink-and-white curved flower spikes that look like shrimp.

~ Bear’s breech, or Grecian pattern plant (Acanthus mollis): Has glossy leaves and sends up a spiky spring flower.

~ Mardi Gras abelia (Abelia x grandiflora “mardi gras”): Has variegated foliage and white, tubular flowers from May until November.

HIGHER LAYER

~ Elephant ears (Colocasia species): Elephant-ear-shaped leaves range from 7 inches across to 5 feet, so this accent can be used in any layer.

~ Ginger lilies (Hedychium): Fragrant and flashy, and tall!

~ Encore azalea (Rhododendron hybrids): As the name implies, it blooms again and again.

~ Mexican bush sage (Salvia): A late-summer bloomer that butterflies love – including migrating monarchs.

~ Fatsia (Fatsia japonica): Tall and dramatic, with leaves that look like giant, eight-fingered hands.

~ Anise shrub (Illicium floridanum): Tall, broad-leafed evergreen.

~ McDonald hybrid azaleas: Special because they were developed and bred locally.

~ Cardoon (Cynara cardunculus): A relative of the artichoke, it has big, bold, blue-green leaves and in the late spring sends up a spire of thistle-like flowers that are blue at the top. Has a very dramatic texture for a sunny area.

~ Fire spike (Odontonema cuspidatum): Fiery-red flowers that bloom in the late summer and fall; attracts hummingbirds.

Bob Aston

by Carolyn Shapiro
photograph by Keith lanpher

Bob Aston built his career in banking the old-fashioned way. He rose from the ranks of gofer – “going and getting the coffee and getting the mail and running errands, whatever they told me to do” – to president of the now-defunct Citizens Trust.

In 1999, he founded TowneBank, the region’s largest locally owned bank, in his garage in the Hatton Point neighborhood of Portsmouth – the home he still lives in. There he and about 10 banking colleagues drew up the workings of their home-grown financial enterprise, which now has 26 branches and, as of the third quarter, assets of $4.3 billion.

Born and raised in Suffolk, George Robert Aston Jr. (who has never gone by “George”) likes to say his first business “partner” – technically his first employer – was Landmark Communications, now Landmark Media Enterprises, which publishes Distinction and The Virginian-Pilot. He delivered the newspaper in Suffolk and considers that work an important step toward shaping his outlook on customer service.

“Truthfully, you do learn a lot doing that,” says Aston, now 67. “That paper went out every day of the week.” Rain or shine, if he didn’t land each copy at the customer’s front door every morning, he still had to pay for it. That gave him incentive to get the job done and collect his money.

And he discovered that the probability of people’s settling their bills on time had nothing to do with the value of their home or the make of the car in their driveway, teaching him “not to judge people by what they have but how they behave.”

That was Aston’s first job, but it wasn’t his worst. That came later, after his family moved to Portsmouth. During the summer of his junior year at Cradock High School, he worked for a construction company. He had no career plan.

“I was,” he says, “just looking for a paycheck.”

He spent most days riding in a pickup and laying foundations. The work left him with sore muscles and sunburns.

“I realized that construction was not the most exciting job as I had imagined,” he says, chuckling. “They were using real sophisticated tools like picks and shovels.” He wasn’t cut out for hard labor. As a high school senior, he entered a vocational office training program and landed the job at Citizens Trust. He took the helm of the bank at age 36.

Aston never went to college, let alone got a master’s degree. Instead, he applied the customer-service inclinations he’d gleaned from his early paper route to build a thriving community institution. “It provides a platform for helping people that, frankly, a lot of folks never have an opportunity to do,” he says. “We’re in the money business, and people need money.”

 

Mail Call

 

Photograph by Jeff Rose

Deliver yourself some understated swagger with the help of the craftsmen at Moore & Giles, outside Lynchburg.
The Wynn Mail Bag, in Brompton Brown, comes a bit weathered to avoid that squeaky-new look.
Pockets, but not too many. And a zip closure, so your stuff won’t fall out on the flight. $660.
WHERE TO FIND IT: Beecroft & Bull, 3198 Pacific Avenue, Virginia Beach. BeecroftAndBull.com. 757.422.1961. Or MooreAndGiles.com.

 

xrumer nulled