All I know is this, there are a lot of folks who consider the (Dickson Street) area not all that safe as a place, who want to bring their families. People don’t want their families around people who have had too much to drink. - The Morning News, May 11
Wow, you think when you read a comment like that. It looks like somebody has never left the 1970s, when Dickson really did have a notorious reputation - at least among parents who warned their children never to go there, day or night.
But this is 2009, and Pat Gazzola is Chairman of Fayetteville’s Advertising and Promotion Commission, a body dedicated to promoting the city of Fayetteville. The kindest thing that one can say is that it was a pretty dweebish thing to say, and leave it at that.
But you can’t, really, because Pat Gazzola, for better or worse (and its looking a whole lot like worse) is Chairman of the Advertising and Promotion Commission.
Unless this was a clumsy man’s attempt at a job application for Crystal Bridges, it Silly beyond words.
It’s probably time for Pat Gazzola, who is also owner the The Catfish Hole restaurant - about as far from a Dickson Street atmosphere as one might imagine - to step aside, and let someone who actually respects the people of Fayetteville to take his place.
Because stepping into his time machine, and trying to drag the rest of us back with him was nothing short of disrespectful, especially when it comes to damaging our chances of retaining the Walton Arts Center.
Another view was offered by someone who posted on the Fayetteville Flyer site:
This comes down to a cultural divide. Like you said in the article, people who don’’t drink. People who eat at the Catfish Hole, go to church, and stay away from places where people will have been drinking.
There’s no convincing them that drunk people can also be quite sweet.
Quote of the Day
You will stay young as long as you learn, form new habits, and don't mind being contradicted. - Marie Von Ebner-Eschenbach
A perfect candidate for Pat Gazzola’s job?
The other night I was bragging on my cat, Rose, the anti-social creature who inhabits a feline body and has all the dogs terrified of her.
“She never gives us a bit of problem,” I said. “And she is the most graceful animal that we have.”
Sitting on top on the TV, Rose looked over at me, as if considering my words, and promptly threw up on the cable box, shorting it out.
Yeah, I thought. That’s my girl.