A Walker in the Suburbs

It’s been 50 years since the Old Dominion rolled out a new tourism campaign that went on to become one of the most successful ever. To celebrate this campaign, Virginia has placed more than 150 LOVE installations around the state. Seeing this one in Urbanna last weekend inspired me to do a little research.

“Virginia is for Lovers” has a contested history. Some say it was the original brainchild of a $100-a-week copywriter who came up with “Virginia is for history lovers” — until others in the Martin and Woltz agency out of Richmond (now the Martin Agency) decided to punch it up. Others say it was a more collaborative effort from the start.

Whatever the exact story, “Virginia Is For Lovers” is a classic example of less is more, because the removal of “history” gave the fusty state a whole new image. The campaign debuted with an ad in Bride’s Magazine in 1969, the year after the summer of love. And the rest really is … history.

It’s really Urbanna, but I couldn’t resist adding a sigh of pleasure at the end. Where have all these sweet Virginia port towns been all my Virginia life?

Like Reedville, Irvington and Kilmarnock, Urbanna is a small place with a large footprint, large because its role in the beginning of American history gives it a certain heft. In all these small towns, homes and shops cluster around landings that became docks that became marinas that now lie sparkling in the sun. But before the sailboats and motorboats there were steamers and sailing ships, and the harbors and quays were where business was conducted, not pleasure.

To reach the Urbanna marina, for instance, you walk down Prettyman’s Rolling Road, one of the oldest thoroughfares in America, a historical marker says. The “rolling” was named for how 1000-pound hogbacks full of tobacco were moved from custom house to ships and from there to the motherland more than 3,000 miles away.

I walked instead of rolled. But once down the shaded lane, it was easy to imagine the bustle of yore because of the modern busyness.  It was a glorious late-summer day, and sailors, kayakers and sightseers all gathered at the harbor.

 I watched one sailboat motor slowly down Urbanna Creek on its way to the Rappahannock and, ultimately, the bay. It would be back by nightfall. It wasn’t traversing the Atlantic. But as the water gleamed and a breeze promised smooth sailing, it was easy to imagine otherwise.


(No wonder I like the town. I later read that it means “City of Anne,” which I should have figured out from my ninth-grade Latin. Named not for me, of course, but for England’s Queen Anne, most recently portrayed — and not prettily — in the movie The Favourite.”) 

One of the reason I love to travel is that it opens up worlds you’d never know if you didn’t leave home. It’s not just seeing the sights and meeting the people. It’s imbibing the history and culture.

Things like the Chesapeake steamboat culture, for instance, which flourished from the 19th century into the 20th.  Boats plied the rivers, creeks and inlets of this watery world, picking up tobacco, produce, seafood — and people — and taking them to Baltimore or Norfolk. Neighbors would gather at the wharf when the boats made their return trip to retrieve the tools, lumber or lace they’d ordered from the big city.

Steamboats served as buses, ambulances, bars (you could get a drink on one during Prohibition) — and stages. The musical “Showboat” was based on an Edna Ferber story she wrote after spending time on the James Adams Floating Theater, which mostly plied the Chesapeake.  These floating stages might be the only live entertainment a family could count on all year long. It was a big deal when the Floating Theater came to town.

Chesapeake steamboats — until this afternoon, I never knew they existed.

(This is the pilots cabin from the steamer Potomac, which is being restored in the Irvington Steamboat Museum.)