Tag: Department

The Transformation of a University

Two presidents elevate an institution

 

By D.G. Martin

Looking back 100 years to the situation at the University of North Carolina at the end of World War I might give a little comfort to current-day supporters of its successors, the University of North Carolina System and the campus at UNC-Chapel Hill.

The system is looking for a new president to replace former President Margaret Spellings, who left March 1, and for the acting president, Bill Roper, who plans to step down not later than the middle of next year. Meanwhile, UNC-Chapel Hill is searching for a new chancellor to replace Carol Folt, who departed Jan. 15.

Both Spellings and Folt had been unable to work out a good relationship with the university system’s board of governors and the legislature.

In 1919, the university’s situation was, arguably, even more severe. It was reeling from the recent death of its young and inspirational president, Edward Kidder Graham, and facing the challenges of dealing with an inadequate and worn-out set of campus buildings, along with a post-war explosion of enrollees. Meeting those challenges became the responsibility of Graham’s successor, Harry Woodburn Chase.

Graham had been UNC’s president from 1913, when he was named acting president, until his death in 1918, a victim of the flu epidemic that scorched the nation at the end of World War I.

The Coates University Leadership Series published by UNC Libraries recently released Fire and Stone: The Making of the University of North Carolina under Presidents Edward Kidder Graham and Harry Woodburn Chase. The book’s author, Greensboro’s Howard Covington, explains how the “fire” of Graham and the “stone” of his successor, Chase, transformed UNC from a quiet liberal arts institution into a respected university equipped to provide an academic experience that prepared students to participate in a growing commercial, industrial, and agricultural New South.

At the time Graham became president, approximately 1,000 students were enrolled. The campus consisted primarily of a few buildings gathered around the South Building and Old Well. Classrooms and living quarters were crowded and in bad condition.

In his brief time as president, the youthful and charismatic Graham pushed the university to reach out across the state. Speaking at churches, alumni gatherings, farmers’ groups and wherever a place was open to him, he preached that universities should help identify the state’s problems and opportunities, and then devote its resources to respond to them. 

He coined the phrase “The boundaries of the university should be ‘coterminous’ with the boundaries of the state.” These words came from a University Day speech by Graham, although he used the term “coextensive” rather than “coterminous.”

Leaders and supporters of the university often use this language to embrace a wider partnership with the entire state. He traveled throughout the state and delivered moving speeches about the role of education in improving the lives of North Carolinians.

Graham’s ambitious plans to transform the university were interrupted by World War I when the campus and its programs were, at first, disrupted and then commandeered by the military. His death shortly after the war ended left the university without a magnetic and motivational figure to carry out his plans and vision. That task fell upon Henry Chase, a native of Massachusetts, who had gained Graham’s trust as a teacher and talented academic leader.

Although he did not have Graham’s charisma, Chase had something else that made him an appropriate successor to the visionary Graham. He had an academic background, and a talent for recruiting faculty members who supported Graham’s and Chase’s vision for a university equipped to serve the state and gain recognition as a leading institution.

Chase had the plans, but lacked sufficient resources from the state. However, he had an energetic organizer in the form of Frank Porter Graham, a cousin of Ed Graham and a junior faculty member.

In 1921, Frank Graham helped mobilize the university’s friends that Ed Graham had inspired. Covington writes, “The campaign had been flawless. The state had never seen such an uprising of average citizens who had come together so quickly behind a common cause. Earlier rallies around education had been directed from the top down, with a political figure in the lead. This time, the people were ahead of their political leaders, who eventually came on board.”

Chase took advantage of the public pressure on the legislature to secure the resources to expand the campus. He organized and found support for university programs that included the graduate and professional training needed to serve the public throughout the state, as Ed Graham had hoped. 

By 1930, when Chase left UNC to lead the University of Illinois, the UNC campus had more than doubled in size, and the student body approached 3,000, including 200 graduate students. His successor was Frank Graham. 

Chase’s ride to success had been a bumpy one. For instance, in 1925, about the time of the Scopes-evolution trial in Tennessee, Chase faced a similar uprising in North Carolina from religious leaders who attacked the university because some science instructors were teaching Darwin’s theory of evolution. 

The state legislature considered and came close to passing a law to prohibit teaching of evolution. During the hearings on the proposal, one such professor, Collier Cobb, planned to attend to explain and defend Darwin’s theories.

Covington writes that Chase told Cobb to stay in Chapel Hill because “it would be better for me to be the ‘Goat,’ if one is necessary on that occasion than for a man who is known to be teaching evolution to be put into a position where he might have to defend himself.”

Chase respectfully told the committee that he was not a scientist. Rather, he was an educator and he could speak on the importance of the freedom of the mind. He also countered the proposal by emphasizing the point that Christianity was at the university’s core. His strong defense of freedom of speech gained him admiration of the faculty and many people throughout the state.

But his defense of freedom was not absolute. He could be practical. When Cobb wrote a book about evolution and the newly organized UNC Press planned to publish it, Chase vetoed the idea. He explained that the book “would be regarded by our enemies as a challenge thrown down and by our friends as an unnecessary addition to their burdens.”

Chase explained, “The purposes for which we must contend are so large, and the importance of victory so great, that I think we can well afford for the moment to refrain from doing anything, when no matter of principles is involved, that tends to raise the issue in any concrete form, or which might add to the perplexities of those who will have to be on the firing line for the University during these next few months.” 

Chase’s pragmatic handling of a delicate situation showed how academic leaders, perhaps all leaders, sometimes have to temper their principles in the interest of achieving their goals.

Covington writes that Chase “took the flame that Graham had ignited and used it to build a university and move it into the mainstream of American higher education.” 

Without Ed Graham’s fire and Chase’s stone, UNC would not have become what it is today, one of the most admired universities in the country. 

Robert Anthony, curator of the North Carolina Collection at UNC-Chapel Hill’s Wilson Library, asserts that there is a wider lesson. He writes, “In this thoughtful, skillfully written examination of the University and its two leaders during the earliest decades of the 20th century, Howard Covington reminds us that individuals with vision and determination can make a difference.”  OH

D.G. Martin hosts North Carolina Bookwatch Sunday at 11 a.m. and Tuesday at 5 p.m. on UNC-TV. The program also airs on the North Carolina Channel Tuesday at 8 p.m. To view prior programs go to http://video.unctv.org/show/nc-bookwatch/episodes/

Above It All

The rewards of life’s upward climb

 

By Jim Dodson

Never lose the opportunity to see anything beautiful, British clergyman Charles Kingsley once advised, for beauty is God’s handwriting, a wayside sacrament.

Because I rise well before dawn wherever I happen to be, I stepped outside to see what I could see from 4,000 feet.

A fog bank was rolling silently down the side of the mountain like a curtain opening on the sleepy world, revealing 50 miles of forested hills in the light of a chilly quarter moon.

The only other lights I saw were a few remaining stars flung somewhere over East Tennessee. The only sound I heard was the wind sighing over the western flank of Beech Mountain.

An owl hooted on a distant ridge, saying goodbye to summer.

In a world where it is almost impossible to get lost or find genuine silence and solitude, this moment was a rare thing of beauty.

I stood there for probably half an hour, savoring the chill, an over-scheduled man of Earth watching the moon vanish and a pleated sky grow lighter by degrees, drinking in the mountain air like a tonic from the gods, savoring a silence that yielded only to the awakening of nature and first stirrings of birdsong.

After an endless summer that wilted both garden and spirit down in the flatlands, a golf trip with three buddies to the highest mountain town in the eastern United States was exactly what I needed.

A door opened behind me on the deck.

My oldest friend, Patrick, stepped out, a cup of tea in hand, giving a faint shiver.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? “ he said. “Hard to believe we’re not the only ones up here.”

Such is the power of a mountain. The lovely house belonged to our friends Robert and Melanie, and though there were hundreds of houses tucked into the mountain slopes all around us, from this particular vantage point none was visible or even apparent, providing the illusion of intimacy— a world unmarked by man.

“So what does this make you think about?” My perceptive friend asked after we both stood for several silent minutes taking in the splendor of a chilly mountain dawn.

I admitted that, for a few precious moments, I felt as if I were standing on the deck of the post-and-beam house I built for my family on a hilltop of beech and birch and hemlock near the coast of Maine, our family home for two decades, surrounded by miles of protected forest. The skies, the views, even the smell of the forest were nearly identical. Sometimes I missed that place more than I cared to admit.

“I remember,” said Patrick with a smile. “It was quite on a hill.”

“The highest in our town. It felt like the top of the world. My sacred retreat for a transcendental Buddho-Episcopalian who has a keen fondness for good Methodist covered dish suppers.”

Patrick laughed.

He knew exactly what I meant. Old friends do. We’ve talked philosophy and gods and everything else sacred and profane for more than half a century.

In every spiritual tradition, mountains are places where Heaven and Earth meet, symbolic of transcendence and a human need to elevate mind, body and spirit. As long as our types have walked the Earth, hilltops and mountains have provided a powerful means of escape and spiritual retreat, a way to literally rise above the demands and hustle of everyday life.

Moses received the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai, which translates to mean “The Mount of God.” In Greek lore, it was believed that to spend a night on Mount Olympus would result in either madness or direct communication with the gods. Japan’s Mount Fuji is one of that nation’s three sacred mountains and a World Heritage site that has inspired artists and pilgrimages for centuries.

“Being up here,” I added, “reminds me of an experience Jack had that I would like to have.”

Jack is my only son, a documentary filmmaker and journalist living and working in the Middle East. He and his sister, Maggie, grew up with Patrick’s daughter, Emily. The three of them are all adults now, birds that have successfully flown the nest. We are proud papas.

In January of 2011, though, as part of Elon University’s outstanding Periclean  Scholars program, Jack and a few of his chums joined thousands of spiritual pilgrims for the five-hour night climb up Sri Pada — also known as Adam’s Peak —  to see the sunrise from an ancient temple on Sri Lanka’s most holy mountain, a pilgrimage of 5,000 steps traveled annually by thousands of Hindus, Buddhists, Christians and Muslims for some 1,700 years.

Jack had been asked by his advisor to go to Sri Lanka and make a film about the service work of the Periclean class ahead of his own class’ project with a rural health organization in India. The resulting 45-minute film, The Elephant in the Room, examined the environmental issues of Sri Lanka using the fate of the nation’s endangered elephants to tell a broader story about how the world’s natural system are under severe stress. Jack wrote, filmed, edited and narrated most of the film in partnership with two of his Periclean colleagues.

As he reminded me the other day during one of our weekly phone conversations from Israel, his unexpected pilgrimage to the mountaintop came at a critical moment of his junior year when he had burned out from too much work and not enough rest. In addition to his studies, he was burning the candle at both ends, teaching himself to make films and working as an editor on the school newspaper.

“When I look back, I realize I was getting pretty discouraged about both school and journalism at that moment,” he explained. “But the trip to Sri Lanka came at a good moment because it was the first time I got to make a film my own way about the things that struck me as important, just using my instincts about things we were seeing in our travels. It was a moment of real clarity and freedom.”

The climb up Sri Pada in the pre-dawn winter darkness was one of the highlights of his Sri Lankan film odyssey, a surprisingly challenging climb even for a fit outdoor-loving kid from Maine who grew up climbing mighty Mount Katahdin with his mates. Jack and his fellow Pericleans paused on the ancient steps several times to catch their breath before pushing on to the summit. On the way up, they passed — or were passed by — the young and old, the healthy and feeble, men and women of all ages, shapes and sizes, rich and poor, trudging ever upward. He told me he saw young men carrying their grandmothers on their backs, others carrying torches, bundles and food — couples, families, pilgrims from the Earth’s four major faiths all seeking a common holy mountain top.

“We arrived about 10 minutes after the sunrise,” he remembers. “But the whole mountaintop was bathed in this beautiful golden light. We stood in the courtyard of that temple sweaty and tired but also incredibly happy and at peace. It was very moving. I caught some of it on film. The view was incredible,” he recalled. “We were so glad we made the climb. It was just what I needed.”

Though he’s gone on to make more than a dozen timely films about everything from debtor’s prison in Mississippi to the opioid crisis across America, my son’s earnest and charming little film about the fate of elephants in Sri Lanka — his first full-length effort — is probably his old man’s favorite to date, full of simple images that reveal his budding talents. It is filled with poignant fleeting encounters with ordinary people and moments that have become familiar hallmarks of Jack’s homegrown filmmaking style.

A year after he made Elephants in the Room, his more ambitious and technically refined film about a pioneering rural health care organization in India got shown at a World Health Organization gathering in Paris. His sophomore achievement ultimately landed him a job at one of the top documentary houses before he went on to graduate school at Columbia, met his wife and began a promising career as an independent filmmaker.

I saw a nice change in my son after he came down from that sacred mountain: a fresh resolve, a clearer mind. During our recent phone chat from Israel, I asked if he ever thinks about his climb to the mountaintop on that winter morning in Sri Lanka.

“I do,” he replied. “When I got back to Elon, I started to learn about meditation and developed a different attitude about what I was doing. I still think about that climb from time to time. It was an experience that stays with you.”

We also talked about the last really challenging hike we took together, a grueling hike up Mount Katahdin with his Scout troop. I was 50 at the time. Jack was 13.

Truthfully, I’d convinced myself that I was in excellent shape for a 50-year-old Eagle Scout. But I never made it to the top. My dodgy knees gave out a thousand feet below the summit, prompting me to rest my weary legs at the ranger station beside Chimney Pond while Jack and his teenage buddies scampered up Cathedral Trail to the summit. 

As I contentedly waited, a passage from James Salter’s beautiful novel Light Years came to mind.

“Children are our crop, our fields, our earth. They are birds let loose into darkness. They are errors renewed. Still, they are the only source from which may be drawn a life more successful, more knowing than our own. Somehow they
will do one thing, take one step further, they
will see the summit. We believe in it, the radiance that streams from the future, from days we will not see.”

Above it all, as we watched the chilly sunrise from the top of Beech Mountain, my old friend Patrick simply smiled and nodded when I mentioned this.  OH

Contact Editor Jim Dodson at jim@thepilot.com.

You can see Jack’s work at www.JackDodson.net  and The Elephant in the Room at: https://vimeo.com/30460629

Staying Power in the City

A surprising number of Greensboro’s most beloved restaurants are three decades old and counting . . . and remain choice spots for exceptional food and great conversation

By Billy Ingram

Looking back 30 years, many of us can recall dining experiences with friends and family at venues that are visited only in unforgettable memories: Jordan’s Steak House, Laredo’s Neon Cactus, Market Street West, The Nicholas, Amalfi Harbour, Equinox, Cellar Anton’s, Saltmarsh Willie’s and Madison’s.

In more recent times, we’ve lost old favorites like Your House, Bill’s Pizza Pub on Gate City Boulevard, Jan’s House and Green’s Supper Club but, if you happen to be in the mood to dine at a restaurant steeped in local history, your choices are surprisingly abundant. Each of these beloved dining rooms has been around for 30 years or more in the same building serving signature dishes prepared the way they were three decades ago. Keep in mind, some are only open for two meals a day and others close on weekends.

There are many more than worthy candidates in Greensboro that, for limited page space in this magazine, we didn’t get to —Frosty’s Barbecue on Summit, Acropolis, Mayberry Ice Cream on Summit, New York Pizza on Tate, Fisher’s Grill, among others — but be patient; we’ll get to them eventually. For now, bon appétit!

Brightwood Inn

Our area’s oldest eatery sits just outside Greensboro near Whitsett on U.S. Highway 70. The Brightwood Inn is the only place around these parts where Elvis dined, pulling up front in his pink Cadillac on February 15, 1956, a pause between gigs in Burlington and Winston-Salem, and ordering a hamburger with lettuce and tomato and a tall glass of milk. It won’t be hard to locate the booth where The King held a brief but historic audience. It is preserved as a holy shrine. This, by the way, would be one of the last weeks Elvis could relish any sort of anonymity. By summer he was topping the pop charts with songs like “Heartbreak Hotel,” “Blue Suede Shoes” and “Hound Dog.” Brightwood Inn served its first burger in 1950.

Bernie’s Bar-B-Q

Off the beaten path, Bernie’s Bar-B-Q also began life in 1950 — as Beverly’s Bar-B-Cue on Winston-Salem Road (West Market today) before moving to a nondescript cinder block diner built in 1962 at 3002 East Bessemer. When Bernice Truitt purchased the business in 1983, she updated the sign out front and little else. Everything is freshly prepared daily with the kitchen lights flickering on at midnight. The menu is unapologetically spare, concentrating on what they do best in no-nonsense surroundings.

Joining me for lunch is photo-illustrator Joe Bemis, who just got back from France where he participated in the momentous 75th anniversary commemoration of D-Day. He was there to chronicle the re-enactment of 82nd Airborne paratroopers descending on the town of Sainte-Mère-Église. OThey accidentally dropped in on a German-occupied town,T Joe says of that fateful firefight in 1944.  Remember the movie The Longest Day where Private Steele’s parachute gets caught on the church steeple? That’s where I was, in that square.” The service is fast at Bernie’s. Our traditionally prepared “Lexington-style” barbecue arrived in a flash. The tangy pulled pork was paired with some of the best sweet hushpuppies I’ve ever tasted. Between bites, Joe tells me about what he describes as one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard: A column of Sherman tanks rumbling towards him. “One of the soldiers pointed me out saying, ‘C’mon up.’ So I got to sit on one of the Sherman tanks while it was moving through town. With crowds of people all around, it looked like the town was being liberated all over again.” And talk about old-fashioned: Bernie’s Bar-B-Q opens at 6 a.m. every morning, to get the full-working man’s dining experience eat at the lunch counter.

2603 East Bessemer Avenue, Greensboro

(336) 274-1256

Brown-Gardiner Fountain

Speaking of lunch counters, in the 1950s and ’60s almost every drug and variety store had one. There’s only one I know of remaining today, inside Brown-Gardiner Drug on North Elm. Their staff has been plating old-fashioned flat-top burgers, breakfast plates loaded with sizzling bacon and sausage and, of course, classic toasted cream-cheese-and-olive sandwiches since 1965 when W. C. Brown and Paul L. Gardiner relocated from a corner spot on East Northwood. Brown-Gardiner’s sprawling luncheonette almost instantly became a favorite neighborhood hangout right from the start. The cafe portion of the store was expanded a decade ago to accommodate new generations seeking comfort food and fountain sodas. As a little girl in the early 1970s, my cousin Berkley fondly recalls her father Berk Ingram carrying her on his shoulders to Brown-Gardiner from their home in nearby Browntown for buttery grilled cheese sandwiches slathered with mayo. You can still get one just like it.

2101 North Elm Street, Greensboro

(336) 275-3267 or browngardiner.com

Stamey’s Barbecue

Stamey’s High Point Road (now Gate City Boulevard) was brought to Greensboro in 1953 by C. Warner Stamey, who smoked the competition with what he learned from Lexington’s legendary pitmasters Jess Swicegood and Sid Weaver. The barbecue is and was roasted for hours over a glowing pit of hickory coals then served with a distinctive and rich sweet’n’sour Lexington-style sauce. Warner Stamey, an innovator, was one of the first restaurateurs to offer drive-in, car-hop service, which took a back seat in 1979 when the dining room was modernized and expanded. Warner’s son, Chip, stokes the coals nowadays and the barbecue is one of the few for miles around that’s still cooked low and slow over hickory.

2206 West Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro

(336) 299-9888 or stameys.com

Lucky 32 Southern Kitchen

Like a comfy pair of slippers, Lucky 32 is always a nice fit for whatever occasion. Or no occasion. Serving familiar favorites with a Southern accent and sourcing local produce and artisanal products, Lucky 32 features a rotating seasonal menu that includes, for fall, Brunswick stew, shrimp and grits, cornbread with pot licker and their renowned collard greens all tangled up with country ham.

My noontime mate is Margaret Underwood who, well into her 80s, has retired from a long and varied career spent, for the most part, in the medical science field — nanotechnology technician at Cone Hospital, biologist at Chapel Hill at North Carolina Memorial and serving as a med tech for Dr. Charlton Harris among many other unrelated pursuits.

Diving into a divine-looking grilled salmon salad, she paints a picture of a more distant Southern landscape of the early-50s. “I had a science background and I wanted to study medicine at Carolina,” she says. “I talked to the dean of the medical school, Dr. Berryhill, and he said, ‘Margaret, If you do this you’ll be taking the place of some young man who will one day have a family and children to support. And I can see you starting your practice for a few years, then you’ll have a husband and children and you’ll quit the practice. You really shouldn’t do this.’”

Undaunted, Margaret ventured over to Cone Hospital to talk with one of their pathologists, Dr. Lund. “He said ‘I’ll tell you what. If you go to UNCG and sign up for my class, if you make one of the top two grades, I’ll let you into our school of nanotechnology at Cone.’” Margaret was class valedictorian. “There was just a small group of us,” she says of the nanotechnology department at Cone in the 1950s. “My picture is still up there in the lab,” she said, savoring the last bit of chocolate chess pie.

1421 Westover Terrace, Greensboro

(336) 370-0707 or lucky32.com

Yum Yum Better Ice Cream

This Greensboro institution began as a downtown pushcart in 1906 operated by founder W. B. Aydelette Sr., who once told his children (who have kept the business going for more than a century), “I dream about ice cream.” Success led to a full-service operation in 1922, called West End Ice Cream Company, which rounded the northwest corner of Spring Garden and Forest. The bargain-priced, oh-so-red hot dogs and handmade ice cream quickly became a Woman’s College and neighborhood favorite. Rechristened Yum Yum Better Ice Cream after UNCG expansion forced them to relocate in 1973, the Aydelette family moved across Spring Garden Street, next door to Old Town Draught House. Still stuffing buns with Carolina-style red hots topped with slaw, chili and onions for less than two bucks, Yum Yum entices most folks to finish off their meal with one of its many flavors of ice cream, made on the premises the way it was a century ago. Some things never change. Nor should they.

1219 Spring Garden Street Greensboro

(33) 272-8284 or facebook.com/yumyumbettericecreamandhotdogs/

Beef Burger

Burgers are all the rage in Greensboro with Hops Burger Bar and BurgerIM leading the pack when it comes to over-the-top gourmet ground beef concoctions loaded down with exotic toppings such as goat cheese, habanero aioli, sunnyside-up fried eggs, jalapeño bacon and fried green tomatoes. And then thereBs Beef Burger . . .

This funky anachronistic burger joint opened in 1961, originally part of the Biff (Best In Fast Food) Burger chain. While competitors like McDonald’s and Burger Chef were charging 20 cents, Biff Burger sold their standard burger for a penny less. After Biff Burger nationwide went under in the mid-1970s, Ralph Havis decided not to close his franchise. But to be on the safe side, in 1981 he modified the Biff to Beef on the signage, then expanded the menu board to include dozens of unlikely options like zucchini sticks, fried okra, chicken livers and a pretty darn good ribeye sandwich that keeps me coming back. One of only two surviving Biff Burgers preparing a 100 percent authentic Super Burger on one of the chain’s proprietary and original “Roto-Red” rotisserie broilers.

When I pointed out to Gavan Holden, lead singer of the rock band Basement Life, that the owner of Beef Burger has won the lottery multiple times with big money payouts, Gavan asks, “Then why doesn’t he spend some of that money fixing this place up?” Heaven forbid!

1040 W. Gate City Boulevard, Greensboro

(336) 272-7505 or biff-burger.com/beefburger.htm

The Pavilion

My lunch companion at Pavilion, preparing Italian, Greek and traditional Southern dishes for 35 years on Vandalia, is none other than Joey Barnes, original drummer for the rock band Daughtry, who later enjoyed a successful solo career. He’s currently jamming on tour with The Dickens, this time on keyboards. The guy can literally play any instrument. Coincidentally, Joey’s grandmother lived in the Pinecroft neighborhood when he was a youngster and, like myself, Joey hadn’t dined at Pavilion in two decades.

“I’m about to go into the studio to record,” Joey tells me as I pause from popping one after another of the onion straws with ranch dressing appetizer into my mouth. “So all my time outside of The Dickens has been spent in preproduction, doing demos and trying to figure out the sound, the way I want to hear the record.” After years of playing pickup gigs, “I’m exhausted, I’m kinda worn out,” he confesses. “Being creative is the only thing that really keeps me going. The Dickens do so well that I can afford to take a week and focus on being inspired.” And tucking into a plate of the Pavilion’s spaghetti pepperoni.

Joining the conversation, Manager Phillip Nixon to discusses the history behind Pavilion. “My Dad [Steve Nixon], in the ’60s, started with a little place called The Flamenco at Golden Gate Shopping Center,” he explains. “It got very popular so he grew that location. Next thing you know he has two or three more locations and a little frozen food company.” Expansion happened a little too quickly, “Eventually we found this location here and we kind of started over again. Mom has passed away, but myself, Mom and Dad worked together here and it clicked.” Steve Nixon remains involved with the day-to-day operations.

The menu is expansive with everything from roast leg of lamb to flaming shish kebab. Fans of the old Flamenco may recognize many of the entrees. Me, I couldn’t resist the ribeye steak (amazing seasoning) with a side of lima beans. Service is personal and attentive thanks to our waitress Sophie.

A lot of things in this world aren’t like what they used to be, including the music business, Joey says. “Nobody buys CDs anymore, vinyl has actually surpassed CD sales, but the numbers still aren’t great,” he points out. “And the digital download is probably going to go away too. With every advance in technology musicians get paid less and less.” Meanwhile, at the Pavilion, you can still experience the essence of mid-century Greensboro family dining, one firmly rooted in Greek culture.

2010 W. Vandalia Road, Greensboro

(336) 852-1272 or pavilionrestaurant.com

K&W Cafeteria

If there were an antonym for haute cuisine it would be K&W on Northline Avenue. Opening in 1977 to anchor the troubled Forum VI shopping mall (now Signature Place), it was an immediate success. In those days, both lanes leading to the serving line would be packed. Today, one lane snakes down a hallway with nostalgic photos featuring the cafeteria’s storied history. The decor and dedication to serving home-style fare with little flair has barely changed in 42 years. And the prices and value are hard to beat, not to mention dozens of cakes and pies calling your name as you near the check out. And where else can you find both Waldorf and Watergate salads? 

3200 Northline Ave., Greensboro

(336) 292-2864 or kwcafeterias.biz

Lox Stock & and Bagel and First Carolina Deli

Holding down their cozy nook at the Oakcrest Shopping Center off Battleground since 1977, Lox Stock & Bagel is known for extraordinary concoctions like the Belmar (grilled prosciutto, with Swiss and spicy mustard), Double Devil Dogs (Kosher dogs, smothered in melted American cheese, grilled onions and peppers with, of course, spicy mustard), and my fave the Rutherford (rare roast beef, Muenster, horseradish, mustard and tomato on a bialy).

Because it’s walkable for me, my go-to delicatessen lately has been First Carolina on Spring Garden, the very embodiment of a genuine New York deli, both in decor and authenticity, since making their first pastrami and rye back in 1985. And did I mention draft beer, an eclectic wine selection and fresh-baked cookies?

Lox Stock & Bagel

2439 Battleground Avenue, Greensboro

Phone: (336) 288-2894 or loxstockandbagel.net

First Carolina Deli

1635 Spring Garden Streew, Greensboro

(336) 273-5564 or firstcarolinadeli.com

Cafe Pasta

For reasons unknown to me, it’s been a decade since I’ve been back to Cafe Pasta, it pleases me to say their Italian feasts are as sumptuous and delicately prepared as ever; the ambience thankfully barely altered. Very much like coming home. My dinner guests are musical chanteuse Jessica Mashburn and singer-songwriter Evan Olson, celebrating their upcoming 10th anniversary performing as a duo every Wednesday evening from 7 until 10 p.m. at Print Works Bistro adjacent to Proximity Hotel. They started dating in 2005. “We knew each other for a couple of years through music before we started dating,” Jessica says as she sips a glass of iced tea. “Back when Evan was playing for Walrus and Bus Stop.” They were married in 2009. “Now, our Print Works gig is totally a part of the rhythm of our week,” Jessica tells me as she dips a bite of three-cheese ravioli into savory marinara sauce.

A recording artist with eight albums under his belt, Evan has written jingles for a number of commercials. “I wrote one for Hershey’s,” Evan says. “That was my first big one. There was Mercedes Benz M Class when they came out with the SUV.” Now he focuses more on composing songs that get inserted into TV shows and movies like Sex and the City, Law & Order, The Young and the Restless, even Scooby-Doo.

Shortly before our tasty antipasto and scrumptious hors d’oeuvres arrive, Cafe Pasta owner Ray Essa stops by to demand curtly, “Sorry sir, we need this table. Goodnight. Thank you for coming.” Turning his furrowed brow into a wide grin, he lets us know he is just kidding and launches into a little history: “We’ve been here 35 years, my brother and I started it,” Ray says. “This used to be two-thirds of the old Star Theatre, the ceiling goes up another 12 feet.” Because the original concrete floor was slanted downward, it had to be built up and leveled. The upper deck at the front of the place was once the movie palace’s balcony.

Two things about the food, when Cafe Pasta says their cuisine is classic, creative and fresh, they mean it. And they couldn’t be more accommodating to guests: “We’re one of the few places, you want something cooked special, we’ll do it whether it’s on the menu or not.”

“Not only is Ray a restaurateur, he’s an entertainer,” Evan tells us. “You know, he was on The Ed Sullivan Show.” Ray performed as a youngster in a family band not unlike The Partridge Family. “There were eight of us altogether, I was 5 years old,” he recalls. “When I was backstage and saw that little Topo Gigio puppet lying flat, I was devastated. I thought he was dead!” Fender was impressed; they gave young Ray two guitars after the taping. “Then they discovered I wasn’t really any good,” he says. “So they took them back.” Who knows whether he’s kidding or not? As for contemporary entertainment, “We play a little bit of everything from the last 50 years and beyond [at Print Works],” Evan says. “We’ll do anything from The Beatles to Marvin Gaye,” Jessica adds. “I believe people come to see what Jessica is wearing and I’m just the guitarist,” Evan says half joking. “She’s always being creative with her hats, that adds a lot of flair.”
305 State Street, Greensboro

(336) 272-1308 or cafepasta.com

Church Street Cafe

The oldest continuously run restaurant inside city limits would be Church Street Cafe, formerly known as Church Street Drive-In, a.k.a. What-a-Burger. Under new ownership since last year, one wonders if they changed the name of the place after at least two vehicles took the “Drive-In” concept just a little too far by actually plowing directly into the diner, leading to months of repairs. Now they’re back with loyal patrons on Facebook raving about the signature What-A-Burger, served off a flat-top griddle, and the bargain-priced hot dogs. “I’ve been enjoying What-A-Burgers for 56 years,” says one of them, “and I still consider it to be the best burger available anywhere!”

3434 North Church Street, Greensboro

(336) 285-7960 or facebook.com/Church-Street-Cafe-featuring-the-What-A-Burger-503610379718988/  OH

Billy Ingram would like to point out that, while it’s true that Libby Hill Seafood, Southern Lights, Bill’s Pizza Pub, Tex & Shirley’s, and Darryl’s were all around three decades ago, and remain top-tier, they’re no longer in the original locations.

Gob(ble)-smacked!

The universe serves up a cosmic feast this November

 

By Astrid Stellanova

An astral shout-out to Turkey, NC!

Then, let’s time-travel to 1621 to the first Thanksgiving ever. Now, before we set the table with those stubborn ol’ things called facts, here’s what my third-grade teacher swore up and down was the historical truth: Those Pilgrims boiled the turkey and roasted the duck, serving up eel, cod and clams, too. Savory pudding of hominy for a side and a pudding of Indian corn meal with dried whortleberries. They gave us more than a holiday. Mayflower descendants include Julia Child, Clint Eastwood, Dick Van Dyke and Marilyn Monroe.. Remember, Star Children, when you want to strangle your cousin after the pumpkin pie, at least one turkey gets pardoned every Thanksgiving.

 

Scorpio (October 23–November 21

There’s an old saying at our house: It’s never good for the turkeys when pigs choose the holiday menu. A pal in your circle has been guilty of promoting their own interests over yours. They don’t even realize how much this might hurt your friendship, so call them out. It started in innocence. Let it end there, too, Sugar.

Sagittarius (November 22–December 21)

Lordamercy, bad news! You just tested Jell-O-positive. Why in the round world are you being such a chicken? Remember who raised you, stand up against the bullies, the meanies and even the monsters under the bed. This, too, shall pass.

Capricorn (December 22–January 19)

Here’s some can’t-miss advice. Don’t diss his Mama . . . remember, he loves that crazy woman. Time to put the shut to the up-and-smile like you just got voted most likely to succeed, Sugar. ’Cause if you can do this, you are most definitely gonna catch a sweet whiff of that thing called success.

Aquarius (January 20–February 18)

Yassssirreee, you flung yourself into change and stretched. What’s next — buying a blue apron and auditioning as Flo for a Progressive ad? Think of your health, Sweet Thing, cause you are not that kind of a sap. You are a different kind altogether.

Pisces (February 19–March 20)

Pop a can of Beanie Weenies and call it a picnic. You showed up, brought what you had, and even if your contribution wasn’t finger-lickin’ fried chicken, you did what you could. Sometimes, poor folks just got poor ways of doing, like my Mama said.

Aries (March 21–April 19)

You stand to gain if everything goes your way. But there is a weather event on the horizon, so to speak, that might or might not involve crazy-making s@#t storms. There is still time for you to decide if you want to stick around and find out.

Taurus (April 20–May 20)

You just won a world medal for backtracking. Everybody changes their mind, but there’s a possibility you just plain lost yours. Look at the story that you are laying down now versus then. Not everybody is picking up what you laid on ’em, Sugar.

Gemini (May 21–June 20)

Beware of purses big enough to hide an axe — and one carrying one. You may think nobody noticed a little double-crossing that went down, but, hell-o, they sure did. It pays for you to stay low for at least long enough for them to blow off steam.

Cancer (June 21–July 22)

Get away from the fan when things hit. What started unwinding last month is not done, and you are near to the epicenter. You could or could not be directly involved, but you got the whiff of some nasty business by standing too close.

Leo (July 23–August 22)

Look me in the eye and tell me water ain’t wet. That’s right. I’m going to be like Mabel Madea Simmons: Here’s some truth-telling. Surely you already know the best direction for your life is not getting in line with a bunch of rabid lemmings. 

Virgo (August 23–September 22)

You two just go together like taters and gravy. That’s why when your buddy calls you are all in, every time. Enjoy this fun because there’s a sweet old karmic relationship at work here that you have earned and you definitely need. 

Libra (September 23-October 22)

Grandpa loves to say it ain’t in their best interest for turkeys to vote for Thanksgiving. When it comes to making changes, be sure it is for the greater good, Honey. Check your mule tracks and be sure you like where you’ve been.  OH

For years, Astrid Stellanova owned and operated Curl Up and Dye Beauty Salon in the boondocks of North Carolina until arthritic fingers and her popular astrological readings provoked a new career path.

Full Circle

In praise of the underdog, screenwriter Nick Basta takes on the charmed life of legend Yogi Berra

By Wiley Cash   •   Photographs by Mallory Cash

In the fourth grade, Nick Basta loved two things: Yankees baseball and making his buddies laugh. While he enjoyed being on the diamond, he caught the acting bug when he made his friends laugh by impersonating the woman in the Enjoli perfume commercial (“I can bring home the bacon/Fry it up in a pan.”).

Flash-forward a few decades and he is walking the red carpet alongside movie stars like Cynthia Arivo and Janelle Monáe. “I started out just wanting to make people laugh, to make them feel good,” Nick says. “And I kept going.”

Nick has kept going over the years, and he is a long way from the snickers of his fellow Catholic schoolboys back in upstate New York. We are sitting at a corner table at Slice of Life in downtown Wilmington, drinking Pinner IPAs and eating pizza in the middle of a Monday afternoon when Nick lists all the cities where he has lived and worked over the years: New Orleans, Boston, New York, Wilmington, places just as diverse as his acting roles, but in each city Nick has managed to carve out a career on stage and on the screen.

He attended college at SUNY Alfred, where he majored in ceramics and where acting kept getting in the way. He appeared in plays like Our Town and worked with an improv group. After college he moved to New Orleans to pursue a music career, but the stage called him there too. He met his wife, Joey, when they appeared opposite one another in a play titled Once in a Lifetime.

“Was it scandalous?” I ask. “The two leads meeting on set, dating, getting married?”

Nick laughs. “No, it wasn’t scandalous,” he says. “Nobody noticed. There were 25 people in the cast, and some nights there weren’t even that many people in the audience.”

He found his way to the big screen in New Orleans as well, and he received his Screen Actors’ Guild card after a speaking part in his first feature film, Tempted, starring Burt Reynolds.

Ceramics, music: Nick had done his best to pursue something other than acting, but now he decided to focus on it. He and Joey moved north to Boston, where he enrolled at Harvard.

“What was it like being in acting school after being on the stage for so many years?” I ask. Nick smiles, takes a sip of his beer.

“It was the hardest thing I’d ever done,” he says. “Seventy hours a week of speech, movement, Shakespeare, appearing in several shows at once.” He pauses for a moment as if recalling the grueling years of graduate school. “At least it was the hardest thing I’d ever done until I moved to New York City.”

After six years in New York, where Nick worked as an actor and Joey worked as an agent, they decided to look south after giving birth to their daughter. They heard about a small coastal city in North Carolina where Hollywood had taken root. They moved to Wilmington, where Nick’s first role in a feature film was as “Impatient Bus Customer” in Safe Haven.

“The role called for a guy with a Boston accent,” Nick says. “I’d spent all that time at Harvard, so I thought I’d put that Boston accent to use.”

Since moving to North Carolina, Nick has worked steadily in film and on television shows like Queen Sugar, True Detective and Under the Dome, but he cannot help but be disillusioned by the fact that the industry that brought him to Wilmington now exists as a ghost of itself.

“I haven’t shot a movie or a show in North Carolina in six years,” he says. “The industry is what brought us here. A lot of great people left the area and moved to Atlanta and New Orleans. It’s too bad.”

While the film business in Nick’s adopted hometown has slowed over the years, the same cannot be said for his acting career. Next year he will appear as Gloria Steinem’s editor in the biopic The Glorias, starring Julianne Moore, Bette Midler and Alicia Vikander. This month he appears in the Harriet Tubman biopic Harriet alongside Cynthia Arivo, Janelle Monáe and Joe Alwyn.  As excited as he is to share the screen with such incredible talent in service of such an important historical figure, Nick admits that he is a little nervous about his onscreen persona. “I play a slave trader named Foxx,” he says. “I’m a really bad dude in this movie, and it was hard.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was just an emotionally tough movie to shoot,” he says. “There were a lot of tears on the set, and I’m not just talking about the actors. Assistant directors and production assistants were crying because of the things that were happening in front of them. But that made it all feel real, and it’s an important film.”

Perhaps it is the heaviness of Nick’s last two films and their focus on the lives of heroic, iconoclastic women that has steered him toward the craft of screenwriting, and in the direction of one of the most beloved figures in sports history. Last year, Nick completed a screenplay based on the life of Yankees great Yogi Berra, and he has already secured the rights from the Berra family.

“We’re focusing on the 1956 World Series perfect game when Yogi was catching for Don Larsen,” he says. “And we’re calling the movie Perfect, not only because of Larsen’s perfect game, but all because of Yogi’s life; it was perfect.”

I ask him if was difficult to write a story about a man who faced very little conflict in what seemed to be a charmed life.

“No”, Nick says. “Yogi was the consummate underdog, and no one looked like him or played like him or spoke like him. But he made people feel good. I think we need a movie like that right now.”

I picture Nick as that young boy back in New York, doing his best to make his friends feel good. New York, New Orleans, Boston, Wilmington, and now, with the story of Yogi Berra, back to New York, where it all began.  OH

Wiley Cash lives in Wilmington with his wife and their two daughters. His latest novel, The Last Ballad, is available wherever books are sold.

Little Noise

 

Not the involuntary

shudder released

when wakening

or the deeper sigh

escaping the reposing

soul forsaking sleep,

more a humph

in the back of the

throat but absent

contempt, regret,

arrogance or anger,

pulsing the inner ear,

the bony labyrinth

of semicircular canals

where it resonates

with disquiet:

it’s the little noise

we make when

a heart stops.

— Stephen E. Smith