Hey, DC, Enjoy Our Festival

Gheorghe: The Blog has a number of active roster members as well as readers who reside in the nation's capital region, or at least did at one point.  Myself included.

To those still there -- hey, enjoy our festival.

By "our festival," I mean the event that was brought to life by someone from my hometown as a way to lift up the sagging spirits and local economy in a way that benefited those that needed it most and unified the region in neighborly love and a give-a-shit attitude massage.

The Something in the Water festival was awesome. 

Virginia Beach's own Pharrell Williams was the driving force behind the festival, which launched in 2019 as a three-day, action-packed mélange of music, artistic expression, youth programming, and neighborhood-building activities. There are music festivals, and then there are events that serve as building blocks for total community formation. This was the latter.

And I missed it. I don't even recall why . . . what a blockhead. It was this time of year, the weather was great, and there were concerts on the beach 25 minutes from my house. My daughters went and loved it. So did my friends. Maybe I figured this was the beginning of a long-standing festival, and that I'd catch it when the artists were more of my favorites.

Who played? Well, Pharrell did, obviously, with his hometown buddy Chad Hugo. And Va Beach's own Pusha T. And Norfolk's own Timbaland. And Missy Elliott, who grew up in Portsmouth. This town can produce some music.

Dave Matthews also played, as did Gwen Stefani, Busta Rhymes, Jay-Z, Diddy, Usher, Travis Scott, Tyler the Creator, and Sir Snoop Dogg OBE. By all accounts, it was great.

To appreciate the value of this event, you have to understand the region in which I live. I won't bore everyone with a history lesson. Well, I definitely will, but I'll give it to you in Cliffs Notes format:

• This region is known as the Birthplace of Colonial America. Williamsburg was a 4-5-year home to a number of us, so we recall that it's not much of a drive to get to where Cornwallis surrendered or where the first permanent English settlement (Lost Colony RIP) began. 
• In 1619, the first slave ship supposedly landed on Old Point Comfort in Hampton, Not all history makes you proud.
• It's worth noting that this happened about 100 yards from the hotel that hosted the Pi Lam Sweetheart formal in the late 1980's and early 1990's. I have the distinct honor of having been a part of not one but two entities officially banned from this hotel for life: the Norfolk Academy Senior Party was there, and we were told never to return. Same went for the fraternity after we put the Best Pledge's head through a wall. 
• Later on, the region was the site of the storied battle of the Monitor versus the Virginia (née Merrimack). Bridge-Tunnel out front shoulda told ya.
• The cities down this way are all named for English people and places. La-di-frickin-da. Norfolk, Suffolk, Portsmouth, Hampton, Yorktown (from Yorkshire), Gloucester, a burg for King William, a town for King James, Princess Anne County, and two capes across the bay, one named for an English king and another for a Prince of Wales. Hell, the state (ahem, Commonwealth, my son) and the beach town here owe their names to the Virgin Queen. (Well, at least she was a virgin in her freshman year.)

History. History. History. Blah. De blah. De blah.

Okay, here's where it gets (mildly) interesting.

• Fast forward to the year of the Russian Revolution. 4,969 miles west, an installation was created to serve the US Navy. It was wartime, and down here we have the deepest natural harbor on the east coast. To date, Naval Station Norfolk is the largest Naval Base in the world. We're the best at superlatives!
• So for 100 years, we're been bringing sailors, seamen, squids, jarheads, frogmen, salty dogs, mariners, SEALs, and seafarers into this region. Many stay post-active duty.
• We also have Langley Air Force Base, Army bases Fort Eustis and Fort Story (where Rob ran during the Shamrock Marathon), a Marine command, 4 Coast Guard bases, a Naval Air Station, and a shit-ton of other military installations -- 15 in all.

• Also, as opposed to the tried and true model of one-city-with-suburbs, we've got Seven Cities. Seriously, that's what we're called. That and Hampton Roads, Tidewater, Coastal Virginia, or the 757. 
• That last one is our latest attempt to name a region that refuses to be named. See what I wrote about it here.

Anyway, Seven Cities sounds like a nifty moniker, but as an economic model, it's utter bunk.

Bored yet? You're about to be!!

See, here in Virginia (and in a number of other states), we operate under something called Dillon's Rule, named after a dude with a good beard and a novel idea that has grown a little shopworn over the last 130 years. According to this article:

So-called “Dillon’s Rule” states, including Virginia, operate under the assumption that localities can only wield powers explicitly authorized to them by the state. That approach has hamstrung cities that wish to solve some of the most pressing problems of their residents. States have voided municipal minimum wage laws, prevented local plastic bag bans, barred the municipal regulation of ride-sharing services and outlawed local family leave policies, to name a few examples. 

Plus sea level rise, according to a William and Mary Law alum. But it's way bigger than plastic bags -- no offense to my good friends at the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. Gun rights. Racial justice. Real change. You can be in the most progressive city or county in Virginia, but whenever we have a General Assembly whose middle name is Lee and a governor who signs vetoes like I sign Chris Chandler's autograph on cocktail napkins in a bar at midnight, good luck with all that.

This rule, either in actuality or by virtue of being used as a cop-out, has exacerbated the Seven Cities thing. Every locality is out for itself. Look, they always were. But now each city is utterly unincentivized to work together, share tax revenues, generate regionalism, and execute innovative economic development that would benefit anyone other than themselves.

Seven Cities, which are really 17 cities and counties in southeastern Virginia. Let's review, obnoxiously. Here's a callous, sloppy look at who we are.

• Norfolk, home to Les Coole, Clarence, Igor, and me. Nah-fuk. Produced Sweet Pea and Dee-Dubs and Bruce and Joe Smith. There's the east side of Norfolk, an "urban center" with folks in areas of chronic high poverty, and there's the whitest side of Norfolk where the money is. Norfolk used to be the epicenter of the region, but the star has faded over a generation. Votes blue.
• Virginia Beach. Vah Beach. Produced Percy Harvin, Gabby Douglas, J.R. Reid, and Ryan Zimmerman. Huge tracts of land. Lots of affluence and swanky domiciles around the oceanfront, lots of pick-up trucks and Let's Go Brandon stickers elsewhere in the city. Was residential and touristy as recently as the 1980's, now has quite a bit of commerce. Uppity fuckers. Whole lotta honk. Votes red.
• Portsmouth. P-town. Virtually no sports stars are from here (save LaShawn Merritt), though they host the Portsmouth Invitational Tournament every year, which is pretty cool. Tiny and with lots of federal land with no serviceable tax revenue, they're always cash-poor. Known as the "armpit of Tidewater" when I was growing up, it has a cool Old Town area and a not-as-cool amount of crime. Fast fact: Patton Oswalt, Missy Elliott, Wanda Sykes, Bebe Buell, Mike Watt, and I were all born in the same hospital in Portsmouth. Votes super blue.
• Chesapeake. The Dirty Chez, as it's known in some places. Hometown of Zo, D. Hall, the Upton brothers, Brian Hightower, and Ricky Rudd. The most countryfied of the Seven Cities. Lotta Navy residents, lotta businesses because land is plentiful and cheap. Dollar Tree HQ, for example. Truck nuts and "more miles of deepwater canals than any other city in the country." That's about as interesting as Chesapeake gets. Votes as bright red as their necks.
• Hampton. Crabtown.  The origin story of Allen Iverson, for fuck's sake. And Tyrod Taylor, Ronald Curry, and a number of others. Small, lots of waterfront, and a Black population near 50%. Always feuding with Newport News. Votes very blue.
• Newport News. "Newpert" News, say the locals. Bad News, but not Bad Newz, the "kennels" funded by NN product Michael Vick. Mike Tomlin, Aaron Brooks, and Al Toon are also from Newport News. What's the story in NN? Building ships. The city doesn't do much at all that isn't tied to Newport News Shipbuilding. Your tax dollars at work, every day. Boring. Slight blue vote advantage.
• Suffolk. "Surprising Suffolk." It's not surprising. It's rural. The guy who played Uncle Phil in "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" is from here, and he might've been an athlete. What's Suffolk about? Peanuts! The Peanut Capital of the World. For real. Mr. Peanut is from Suffolk. I didn't make that up. Votes rather red. 

The Seven Cities stupidly doesn't include Williamsburg (LT and Mel Gray; retirees, college students, tri-cornered hat people, tourists, and townies; red city), Yorktown (Terry Kirby & Chris Slade; stuck in 1781; super red), Poquoson (no athletes you've heard of;  "one of the oldest continuously named cities in Virginia" . . . my, that's stretching; as red as the blood that flows through the arteries of these proud Americans), and other localities, but you get the point. 

Like much of America, we're a melting pot. Lots and lots of seventh generation folks who talk about the good old days. Lots and lots of transplants and imports bringing fresh new ideas and unreasonable expectations. Red. Blue. Purple. Urban. Rural. Military. Civvies. The Southside. The Peninsula. History-loving traditionalists. New-style movers and shakers. A series of twains as permanent strangers. Disagreement. Judgment. Consternation. 

Still a lovely place to live, but you kind of need to have an elbow-bending ritual and a friend with a boat to endure the politics of the place that prevent progress.

But then came Pharrell! And we were happy!

The 2019 Something in the Water festival felt like real change. A hometown kid gone big time was actually coming back and hanging with us. (Okay, so Bruce Smith hangs with us at the Dirty Buffalo, and I saw Allen Iverson sitting outside the Buffalo Wild Wings in Hampton waiting for his ride a few years back.) More importantly, Pharrell was investing in us. 

And it was music and sun and fun and community. The week leading up to the festival had lots of programmatic offerings for at-risk youths and schools and neighborhoods near or below the poverty line. It was art and culture and fun and joy. It was beauty.

It was the beginning of a sea change for this city by the sea.

When I was in Indianapolis a couple of years ago, the ED of the city's Chamber of Commerce told me that he was stunned our region hadn't branded itself as a true music hub. I couldn't agree more. We are a wellspring of popular musicians from way back til today:

• Ella Fitzgerald
• Ruth Brown
• Gene Vincent
• Pearl Bailey
• Clarence Clemons
• Bruce Hornsby
• Seven Mary Three (oh yeah)
• Charlie Byrd
• Juice Newton
• Robert Cray
• Gary U.S. Bonds
• Steve Earle
• Les Coole (you knew that was coming)

And Pharrell, Missy, Timbaland, Chad Hugo, and Pusha T, of course. Why wouldn't we market this? Pharrell was going to be a gateway to a new image, and a new future.

Remember when I said we started tagging ourselves as The 757? Honest to god, I heard more than one regional leader say we needed to pick that moniker because Pharrell wanted it. Wait, what?

But that happened. And soon thereafter the State Corporation Commission announced that we would be getting a new area code down here. 948 on top of the 757. Whoops-a-daisy . . . whoops-a-daisy.

No worries, we were heading in the right direction. And a music festival, of all things, would be the catalyst for regional reinvention!

Except for one thing.  Two things.  Three things. 

1. COVID-19. The pandemic neutralized the 2020 Something in the Water. And the 2021 version as well. My daughters got tickets to the 2020 fest as Christmas gifts. No refund, they simply kicked the can down the road and said, "See you next year, same time, same place!"
2. $$$. Word on the street was that Pharrell took a bath on expenses to put the festival on, and that it might not be sustainable. Ruh-roh.
3. A tragedy made worse. In March of 2021, a young Black man was shot and killed by police in Virginia Beach. He happened to be Pharrell's cousin. I don't know enough to render a judgment, but when the City investigation exonerated the officer, shocking no one, a bit of hell broke loose. And Pharrell severed ties with his hometown, yanking the festival away and sending an open letter to the city, mentioning "toxic energy." He took his ball and went away from home.

Whoops-a-daisy . . . whoops-a-daisy.

There it went. As did the dream. Unity fading. Community returning to its permanently fractured status.

Next week, Virginia Beach is expected to pull out of the local economic development alliance in a move seemingly unimportant, but one that speaks volumes about the "my town over your town, fuck the region" mentality that continues to grow. The Virginia Beach-raised governor has won about as many points with regular denizens as he scored in his much-hyped college basketball career. We are sliding quickly and inexorably back into the mud of low tide.

And the music hub? Eh. All I know is that when our local music venue the Norva opened its doors after two years of pandemic void, there was a much-hyped first act to hit their stage. Limp Bizkit. Wait, what?

So hey, DC, enjoy our festival. It's June 17-19, coinciding with Juneteenth. It's on the mall. The "water" is now the reflecting pool, judging by the amended logo. A handful of the 2019 acts are back, but there are a lot of artists I don't know. Probably good stuff, though. It's not cheap, though. 

Oh . .  . also . .  . I didn't much care for this tidbit I saw on the site. For $50 one-way or $95 round-trip, they offer:

Local Shuttle: We are so happy to be offering direct shuttle bus service from Virginia Beach, VA to Washington, D.C for Something in the Water Music and Arts Festival 2022. It just wouldn't be the same without you!

I gotta say, uh . . . go fuck yourselves. It is without us. You bailed on us. Maybe for valid reasons. But don't throw us that bone wrapped in olive branches and piss on us and tell us it's raining and expect us to lap it up. You're done? So are we.

Oh, and just so you readers know, "The 2022 LOYALTY PRESALE ends today at 10pm." Maybe not a word we want to throw around when it comes to this particular event.

We had our hopes built on something that proved as solid as the coffee table Matt Foley landed on.

Whoops-a-daisy . . . whoops-a-daisy.