Mystery of the Missing Portrait

In 1969, a VCU freshman named Janet Johnson, who lived on the 8th floor of Johnson Hall, painted this picture, which amazed us all because she wasn't even an art major, so we took a picture of it.

She dropped out mid-semester because she never went to class. She got her days and nights mixed up and was up all night and slept all day. I think she was originally from Northern Virginia. She was very tall and liked to wear short, fluffy wigs. She also liked to party at Andy's, which was on Grace Street near the Mister Swiss, a few doors down from Lum's.

A few years later, someone told me they saw this painting for sale at Arts in the Park. That was almost 40 years ago. I wonder what happened to it.

My Secret Mentor

I went online to peek at Style Weekly a day early and saw that Rozanne Epps had died on Sunday. Rozanne was Style's "Rosie Right," the copy editor, and for a very long time, editor of the Back Page. She was The Decider during the 1990s who decided who got to be on the Back Page, and very, very often, especially in the early 1990s, she chose me.

I was very grateful because I couldn't get anywhere at the Times-Dispatch as a writer. Every time I applied, it seemed the editors found a new way to humiliate me, variously insulting me for having a child, being a woman, having gone to VCU, having majored in journalism...all things I couldn't do anything about. And they were not kind about it. I wasn't asking for a lot, but even collecting recipes and recording wedding submissions were jobs I could not get.

When Style began, its first editor, Laura Cameron, was encouraging. She bought my articles and said nice things. Then she left and the next editor, an elitist male, didn't like me at all, so I was out for many years. Then Rozanne came in and seemed to love everything I submitted, even things I now realize were half-baked. When I didn't have any ideas, she would prod me with an email to come up with something, and always requested "first rights," as if dozens of publishers were clamoring for my essays. Actually, for awhile I had a little racket going as Style's sister publications under the Landmark umbrella would buy the essays, too, as well as a weekly in Charlottesville. A quadruple score, Richmond, Norfolk, Charlottesville and Jacksonville, Fla., would net me a decent check. (Style alone paid $60.)

When I was at an all-time low in the early 1990s, unemployed and working part-time in a hotel gift shop, Style would run house ads proclaiming "the voices of Richmond" were found in its pages. There were only two women on that list. One was the richest woman in town who was active in the non-profit community, and the other was me. It was a strange situation to be in.

Musicians and writers tend to be at their most creative when they are miserable, broke, poor and desperate. As the 1990s progressed, my life improved and I wrote less. Than Rozanne was no longer the Back Page editor and nothing I wrote after that made it to the Back Page, which became serious and political and meaningful. So I have to say, thanks Rozanne for the ride. It was fun. I still run into people who remember some of my pieces, and that $60 was sometimes all the money I made that week.

Strangely enough, we never met or even talked on the phone. Our whole relationship was by email. One time I was in the office for some reason and she walked by me, and of course, didn't know it was me. And I didn't identify myself because...well, I have problems being even that marginally outgoing. But I knew it was her, the closest thing I ever had to a mentor. And I was grateful. Thank you for believing in me, Mrs. Epps. It is the most precious gift of all.

Bob Holsworth at St. Paul's

A couple of years ago, I heard Bob Holsworth speak at a Virginia Government Communicators conference and enjoyed it, so I rolled out for his Eyes on Richmond gig at St. Paul's Episcopal today. I knew I wasn't late when I found myself walking up the sidewalk right behind him. He was alone, which oddly surprised me, like political analysts should travel with entourages or be flanked with security and sycophants like the mayor?

Some of what he said was obvious -- like Obama brought out voters who don't usually go to the polls, the young, black, and Hispanic -- which turned Bush Red states in the Southwest blue, as well as Virginia. And then he'd pull some data out of the hat, which made me go whoa, he's doing this without notes.

So here's my notes.

Although nearly the entire full house raised their hand when asked if they'd rather see a four-week campaign for President, Holsworth said the way we do it now is just right. Limited campaign periods favor established people. It takes a long campaign to allow a new face to emerge and fight enough battles to earn the title.

Bush's approval rating now is lower than Nixon's was at the height of Watergate, and is matched only by Truman, who was later redeemed by history. Bush is hoping for such a redemption.

Bush pretty much elected Obama. It was too much of an uphill battle for McCain. Suspending his campaign to support the Wall Street bail-out was a huge political blunder. The 18-29 age group went 2-1 for Obama. "A party that's losing the next generation by 2-1 has to be very concerned," he said of the Republicans.

We tend to watch the TV network that supports our own views. Then he made a joke about Alan Colmes who is "paid to lose every night" opposite Sean Hannity on Fox News. (Actually, Colmes has a radio show I listen to every evening on XM Radio where he wins every night.)

Amazing fact: When Holsworth asked us to raise our hand if we read the newspaper every single day, the entire room, except me, raised their hand. But this was a decidedly old crowd. (When I pass by a mirror, I am always startled by the old woman who looks back. Who is she?) Young people, Holsworth said, are getting their news from The Daily Show, SNL and Letterman. (Letterman is old, I hate to tell you.) The Republican party needs to "develop conservative comedians."

What happened in Virginia was Northern Virginia. It has gone heavily Democrat with minorities, Hispanics, and post graduates working in high tech fields. Hanover County may be the last bastion of Republicanism in the state. (And where I first met Mark Warner in person, at a small gathering of the few Democrats in the county in someone's backyard. He gave a great speech, and I've voted for him ever since.)

Albemarle County, another Republican stronghold surrounding Democratic Charlottesville, is in the throes of high unemployment, which is how Virgil Goode's seat fell into jeopardy.

In the mayoral race, Grey dropped the ball with his enthusiasm-free campaign despite having a boatload of money, whereas Jones had all the traditional Democrat endorsements, and the good luck to be on a ticket where Obama was attracting new voters to pull the lever for the Democrats.

Obama proved it's possible to run a winning campaign on donations from small contributors, free of fat-cat money, which opens the door for anyone with an attractive platform and a good website. He was a "cool hand, smart guy" who never took the bait during debates and remained above the fray. While McCain was taking Virginia for granted until too late, Obama opened 50 campaign offices and inundated the airwaves with ads, even in the expensive D.C. market where he ran 1,342 ads versus McCain's 80.

One question from the audience was why couldn't the Republicans "swiftboat" Obama like they had Kerry? Because Kerry opened himself to attack, according to Holsworth, making a fatal mistake at his convention by "reporting for duty" and emphasizing his Vietnam service, without balancing it with his anti-war activities. "He only told half his story when he had a problematic second half." (I'm not sure talking about his anti-war activities would have silenced the swiftboaters, but you gotta love the new word.)

Tears for Opus

I've been snuffling all day about the death of Opus. Some of you may say, no, he's not dead, he just went to spend eternity asleep on the last page of "Good Night, Moon," which is how he's drawn in his final panel (which can only be viewed via a Humane Society web page.)

But he looks dead to me, with the added clues of the text, "Goodnight Opus and goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere."

When you say goodnight to air, that's pretty dead.

It was hard enough on me that he knew weeks ago his end was coming. He had to get to the place where he wanted to spend eternity, but didn't know where. Then, through a series of misfortunes, he ended up in a cell at an animal shelter with a dog that had never known a home. (What an allegory for life! Isn't our whole journey about getting to the place where we want to spend eternity, but we don't know where or how and end up in the wrong place?)

And if that wasn't hard enough, a trio of Tahitian beauties come calling, looking for a pet to take home to their island paradise, and Opus steps aside and lets the dog go. (Another allegory. Redemption through sacrifice.)

I was more a fan of Bloom County and Outland than this latest revival of the strip, but hats off to Berkeley Breathed for wringing me out emotionally over a cartoon penguin. I haven't been able to snap out of it all day.

(Then in 2015, the characters were back on Facebook. So death, not so permanent.)