Fifty-three years ago an ad hoc group of 21 merchants, located along the commercial strip of West Grace Street adjacent to VCU's Fan District campus, cooperated briefly to plan and execute a one-time-only promotion called Discover the Fan. By the way, it should be noted that none of the participating merchants are still in operation today.
On April 14, 1973 a lingering cold spell left town and warm breezes brought in a bright spring day. For that Saturday afternoon the 800 and 900 blocks of West Grace Street, and environs, were packed with an unprecedented amount of foot traffic. Hundreds of helium-filled balloons and free prizes donated by the merchants were given away. Live music as presented on-stage in the university's parking lots on the 800 block.
For this event, none of the streets were closed, which meant the vehicular traffic was slowed to a crawl all day. Many of the motorists traveling toward the West End were treated to an unexpected scene, given the neighborhood's then-bohemian image. In those days Grace Street was a busy one-way street heading west. On that sunny Saturday there were thousands of people milling about, mostly having a good time. Kids with balloons were everywhere.
The illustration below is a scan of a handbill promoting Discover the Fan that was created by yours truly. With its list of participating businesses it provides a glimpse of the area in what was probably the zenith of the hippie age in Richmond. Take it from me, some of the characters who ran those colorful shops and restaurants were fun-loving, rather interesting people.
At this time I had been the manager of the Biograph Theatre for a little over a year and the Discover the Fan promotion, itself, was my project. I convinced my fellow merchants to chip in $75.00 each and band together to promote our oddball collection of businesses as sort of a hip shopping center, conveniently situated in the middle of town.
This was the first time the area's businesses had joined together to present such a production. Many people worked on aspects of it, but the happening couldn't have come about without significant help from Dave DeWitt (his ad agency helped helped with publicity.) and Chuck Wrenn (the Biograph's assistant manager). One-on-One Foozball Parlor operator, Fred Awad, came up with the name for the event. His brother, Howard, who owned Hababa's, a popular beer joint/restaurant, was in charge of handing out helium balloons. And some of Howard's employees also helped out with security (convincing winos to be somewhere else for that day).
Below is a piece about this event. It was penned by the local columnist, Shelley Rolfe.
Shelley Rolfe’s
By the Way
Richmond Times-Dispatch (April, 16, 1973)
It was breakfast time and the high command for Discover the Fan Day had, with proper regard for the inner man, moved its final planning meeting from the Biograph Theater to Lum’s Restaurant. Breakfast tastes ran a gamut. Eggs with beer. Eggs with orange juice. H-hour -- the operations plan had set it for noon -- was less than three hours away. Neither beer nor orange juice was being gulped nervously.
Terry Rea, manager of the Biograph and the extravaganza’s impresario, was reciting a last-minute, mental things-to-do list. There was the vigilante committee, which would gather up the beer and soft drink cans and bottles that invariably infest the fronts of the shops in the 800 and 900 blocks of W. Grace St., focus area of the discovery.
The city police had promised a dragnet to sweep away the winos who also invariably litter the neighborhood. The day had bloomed crisp and sunny, the first dry Saturday since Groundhog Day. “I knew it wouldn’t rain,” Rea said with the brash confidence of the young. “Lots of young businessmen around here,” a beer drinker at another table said. The free enterprise system lives.
REA WAS assigning duties for the committee that would rope off two Virginia Commonwealth University parking lots that would serve as the setting for a fashion show and band concert. The committee to blow up balloons, with the aid of a cylinder of helium [sic]. One thousand balloons in a shrieking variety of colors. “If we only get 500 kids... two to a customer,” Rea said cheerfully.
“I need more people,” said the balloon task force leader.
Twenty-one businesses were involved in the project. Each of them had contributed prizes, and gift certificates had been put into plastic Easter eggs. An egg hunt would be part of the day, and Rea had a message for the committee that would be tucking the eggs away: “Don’t put them in obvious places, but don’t put them were people can get hurt looking for them.”
“We talked about doing this last summer but we never got it together,” Rea said. There had been fresh talk in late February, early March, and it had become airborne. The 21 businesses had anted up $1,500 for advertising, which was handled by Dave DeWitt, proprietor of a new just-out-of-the-Fan, small, idea-oriented agency.
“Demographically, we were aiming for people between 25 and 34,” Rea said. There had been newspaper advertising and spots on youth-oriented radio stations. “We had a surplus late in the week...” Rea said. The decision was made to have a Saturday morning splurge on radio station WRVA. “Hey,” said a late arrival, “I heard Alden Aaroe talking about it.”
“We wanted people to see what we have here,” Rea said. “People who probably close their windows and lock their doors when they drive on Grace Street and want to get through here a quickly as possible.”
Well, yes, there must be those who look upon the 800 and 900 blocks as symbolic of the counterculture, as territory alien to their visions of West End and suburban existence. Last November the precinct serving the 800 and 900 blocks went for George McGovern, by two votes. Not a landslide, but, perhaps, a trend.
NOON WAS approaching. Rea and DeWitt set out on an inspection tour. Parking lot ropes were being put into place. Rock music blared from exotically named shops. The balloon committee was still short on manpower. An agent trotted out of a shop to report, “They’ve got 200 customers ...” And how many would they normally have at this hour of a Saturday” “They wouldn’t be open,” Rea said.
Grace Street was becoming clogged with cars It would become more clogged. Don’t know how many drivers got out of their cars, but, for a while they were a captive audience making at least vicarious discovery.
Also much pedestrian and bicycle on the sidewalks. Merchants talked of espying strangers, of all ages. A white-haired woman held a prize egg in one hand, a balloon in the other. A middle-aged man had rakishly attached a balloon to the bill of his cap.
The fashion show went on to the accompaniment of semijazz music and popping balloons, most of them held by children. Fashions were subdued. A dress evocative of the 1840s. Long skirts. Loudest applause went to a man who paraded across the stage wearing a loud red backpack. Everybody’s urge to escape?
ON GRACE STREET a sword swallower and human pin cushion was on exhibition. No names please. “My mother ...” he said. He wished to be identified only as a member of “Bunkie Brothers Medicine Show.”
Discounted merchandise on sale included 20-yesr-old British Army greatcoats and a book fetchingly titled “Sensuous Massage.” Sales resistance remained firm.
On Harrison Street a sidewalk artist was creating. A wino, who had somehow escaped the dragnet, lurched across the sidewalk art muttering. “Free balloons ...” In a shop a man said, “I want the skimpiest halter you have ... for my wife.”
On an alley paralleling Grace Street, a man holding a hand camera and early on a VCU class assignment was directing actors. One stationed in a huge trash bin. “Waiting for Godot” revisited? The second, carrying a an umbrella in one hand, popcorn in another, approached the bin. A hand darted out for popcorn. “I ran out of film!” screamed the director.
Everything was being done again. The actor in the bin emerged, seized the umbrella and ran. “Chase him,” from the direct. Actor No. 2 did a Keystone Kop-style double take, jumped and ran. A small crowd that had gathered applauded.
LATE IN the day. Traffic still was at a saturation level. Early settlers said the territory hadn’t seen such congestion since the movie, “Deep Throat.” Rea spoke of objectives smashingly achieved. Euphoric talk from him on another day of discovery in September. City Hall would be petitioned to block off Grace Street.
Note: The writer, Rolfe, lived only a few blocks away from the Biograph, so he was familiar with the Fan District repertory cinema that I ran, as well as its surroundings he described.
This was certainly a day and a situation in which many things could have gone wrong ... but didn't. No doubt, we were lucky. None of us who made it happen took any fee whatsoever for what success was achieved that day. Some of the 21 merchants told me they set new records for the amount of business they took in that day.
In the years to come, other cooperative merchants' promotions were staged in that same neighborhood. However, none of them ever matched the overall good times success of 1973's Discover the Fan.
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