Latest news with #Salamon
The Advertiser
2 days ago
- Business
- The Advertiser
COVID's gone, costs are not: How Newcastle's hospitality scene is hanging on
At Bank Corner on a weekday morning, as the weather cools into winter and a handful of the nine-to-five crowd wait for their order, it's hard to recall that not that long ago we were scared this would all be gone forever. It has been five years since the COVID-19 pandemic reached the Hunter. There was the time before, and the time after. As we get further from it being our present, it becomes clearer that comparing the before and after is futile. Under the long shadow of the virus, living costs choked the weekly budget in a long and painful hangover of swollen inflation, supply shortages, wage stagnation and unaffordable rent. In that climate, venue owners say customers are less concerned about superficial luxuries and retail guff. They care about value for money and the sense of reliability in a world swimming upstream against a cascade of modern anxieties. Alyssa Salamon, the owner of the Newcastle West cafe on Bellevue Street, knows the names of her regulars and their orders by heart. She says Bank Corner customers crave that connection and authenticity. There is no time before the pandemic for her business to compare with now. She has worked in hospitality for years, but only became the owner of the West End landmark in January last year. She wants to keep out the sterile modernities that came from the pandemic years: to take the orders herself, make eye contact with her customers, and chat about their day. There are no screens in the cafe, and little branding. There's no front-facing tablet screen asking for reviews. If the service and the coffee are good, you can mention it to the staff yourself. Chances are, they remember you from last time. "I think there is something to be said for a cosy little corner where you don't have screens," Salamon says. "You're not ordering off a QR code menu. "I've been through my fair share of grieving, and sometimes going to an establishment where you're seen and recognised, and you're held in that bit of gentle space, is important." Salamon has made gradual progress for the past few months on extending the cafe's hours and securing its liquor license, but she is taking it steadily. She's conscious of not changing too much too quickly, and talks often about respecting the history of the place. One of her first improvements was to cut a section of bench that had previously jutted out. A patron had dropped by and offered to help, and Salamon was sawing the timber freehand when she went about 10 millimetres off track. There's a small knot in the side of the bench now, almost invisible if you did not know it was there. For Salamon, it's a stamp of her identity on a place that already has so much of its own. "It was a beautiful way of christening the space in that it was such a community effort," she says. The weekday crowd has never really come back to The Kent. Everyone is watching their spending these days, and the cross-town pub that used to cater to the office and retail workers around the suburb is now competing with the fast-and-cheap alternatives. Still, the 101-year-old Beaumont Street establishment has held on. "I think people are saving their money for the one night a week to go out," group director Chris Fitzsimmons says. "You get those nights where it seems like everyone just picked Saturday this week - no one Friday and then, on Saturday, there's a line around the corner." The venue has been enticing customers back with new lunch specials and pub staples like schnitzels and wings. It has had mixed results, Fitzsimmons says. "The patterns used to be a lot easier to pick," he says. "You used to have a better idea of what was going to happen day to day. These days, it's more crystal ball." Newcastle MP Tim Crakanthorp, who has been involved in a string of revitalisation efforts in the city pre- and post-COVID, says venue owners and managers have been operating in a rapidly changing environment for a long time. The culture has been turning increasingly to moderation. Rates of drinking, particularly among people under 30, have been steadily declining. Of those who partake, the number of weekly drinkers increasing their intake rose around 2013 and has remained fairly consistent since, according to government data. "People are going out, but they are finessing where they go," Crakanthorp says, noting a growing preference for small and medium-sized venues. "The cost of living is driving people out of the city and into the outer suburbs. "There are a lot of green shoots in the night-time economy. For the bigger ones, it is tough at the moment, but we see positives as well." Josh Distefano, the owner of Vera Wine on Beaumont Street, believes there's a benefit in having a small and casual space. You can be in and out in 15 minutes, he says, and there have been plenty of customers who have taken him up on the offer. The three-year-old bottle shop secured a license to serve their wares in-store in November, and has since added a handful of small tables at the front of the shop. Customers are time-poor. They have commitments and obligations, and those have costs. And costs have gone up. Distefano is sceptical about the oft-repeated line that customers are looking for boutique experiences, too. When he opened the shop, he wanted to offer something for everyone with an experience that could not be found at the commercial chains. "People will remember how they felt, more than what they ate," he says. "Having that connection with your guests is important." When Distefano received the email from the Newcastle Herald with the news that Audrey Nash, the city's fearless children's advocate, had died last month, he immediately sent a message to her family. Mrs Nash had visited the store a few times over the previous year, and he had got to know her. "Her family came in that night and had drinks and we were a bit quiet," Distefano says. "I sat down with them and reminisced. These people become part of your family." On a Wednesday night, about 9pm, Chris Wilson opens the door to The Koutetsu bar on Hunter Street and immediately puts out his hand. He has been at work since before 9am, and he won't leave until after closing time, but he greets every customer warmly and asks about their day. This new climate has him feeling like he is building his business all over again, and working the same and longer hours. He opens the bar four nights a week. He would like to open for seven, but the demand is not there yet. Uber has been a game changer, helping patrons get around the city on demand. He likes the light rail, but also believes that getting it was a travesty of public planning that almost crippled the city and businesses like his. "It was so hard to get a taxi in Newcastle, back in the day," he says. "I know the tram is very polarising and, mind you, I was lucky that it didn't go in front of my business. The people who got through that debacle - hats off to them because that would have been so stressful, but I use it when I can." Ultimately, he says, the trick to a vibrant social and cultural economy does not come solely from having busy bars and restaurants open all hours. Rather, the city's entire infrastructure must work to serve the population, and one of the happy effects is a thriving hospitality scene. The veteran barman is a stickler for service. He and his bartenders would rather open for 20 customers and serve each of them with consistently impeccable wares than fill the place to capacity and see customers walking out frustrated over a long wait for a drink. He could change his hours, or his menu, or his style on a whim, chasing the new flavour of the week. But he says doing so would cost him the patronage he has spent years struggling to build. "The more you chop and change, the more confused your guests get," he says. "They would rather go somewhere where they know they are going to get a drink." There's no magic trick, no social media algorithm or strategy that will fill the place until it's standing room only. Customers, in that sense, want what they have always wanted. "We're here to serve," Wilson says. "People work hard for their money, and when they are paying for a cocktail, they deserve to get quality and to get it quickly." At Bank Corner on a weekday morning, as the weather cools into winter and a handful of the nine-to-five crowd wait for their order, it's hard to recall that not that long ago we were scared this would all be gone forever. It has been five years since the COVID-19 pandemic reached the Hunter. There was the time before, and the time after. As we get further from it being our present, it becomes clearer that comparing the before and after is futile. Under the long shadow of the virus, living costs choked the weekly budget in a long and painful hangover of swollen inflation, supply shortages, wage stagnation and unaffordable rent. In that climate, venue owners say customers are less concerned about superficial luxuries and retail guff. They care about value for money and the sense of reliability in a world swimming upstream against a cascade of modern anxieties. Alyssa Salamon, the owner of the Newcastle West cafe on Bellevue Street, knows the names of her regulars and their orders by heart. She says Bank Corner customers crave that connection and authenticity. There is no time before the pandemic for her business to compare with now. She has worked in hospitality for years, but only became the owner of the West End landmark in January last year. She wants to keep out the sterile modernities that came from the pandemic years: to take the orders herself, make eye contact with her customers, and chat about their day. There are no screens in the cafe, and little branding. There's no front-facing tablet screen asking for reviews. If the service and the coffee are good, you can mention it to the staff yourself. Chances are, they remember you from last time. "I think there is something to be said for a cosy little corner where you don't have screens," Salamon says. "You're not ordering off a QR code menu. "I've been through my fair share of grieving, and sometimes going to an establishment where you're seen and recognised, and you're held in that bit of gentle space, is important." Salamon has made gradual progress for the past few months on extending the cafe's hours and securing its liquor license, but she is taking it steadily. She's conscious of not changing too much too quickly, and talks often about respecting the history of the place. One of her first improvements was to cut a section of bench that had previously jutted out. A patron had dropped by and offered to help, and Salamon was sawing the timber freehand when she went about 10 millimetres off track. There's a small knot in the side of the bench now, almost invisible if you did not know it was there. For Salamon, it's a stamp of her identity on a place that already has so much of its own. "It was a beautiful way of christening the space in that it was such a community effort," she says. The weekday crowd has never really come back to The Kent. Everyone is watching their spending these days, and the cross-town pub that used to cater to the office and retail workers around the suburb is now competing with the fast-and-cheap alternatives. Still, the 101-year-old Beaumont Street establishment has held on. "I think people are saving their money for the one night a week to go out," group director Chris Fitzsimmons says. "You get those nights where it seems like everyone just picked Saturday this week - no one Friday and then, on Saturday, there's a line around the corner." The venue has been enticing customers back with new lunch specials and pub staples like schnitzels and wings. It has had mixed results, Fitzsimmons says. "The patterns used to be a lot easier to pick," he says. "You used to have a better idea of what was going to happen day to day. These days, it's more crystal ball." Newcastle MP Tim Crakanthorp, who has been involved in a string of revitalisation efforts in the city pre- and post-COVID, says venue owners and managers have been operating in a rapidly changing environment for a long time. The culture has been turning increasingly to moderation. Rates of drinking, particularly among people under 30, have been steadily declining. Of those who partake, the number of weekly drinkers increasing their intake rose around 2013 and has remained fairly consistent since, according to government data. "People are going out, but they are finessing where they go," Crakanthorp says, noting a growing preference for small and medium-sized venues. "The cost of living is driving people out of the city and into the outer suburbs. "There are a lot of green shoots in the night-time economy. For the bigger ones, it is tough at the moment, but we see positives as well." Josh Distefano, the owner of Vera Wine on Beaumont Street, believes there's a benefit in having a small and casual space. You can be in and out in 15 minutes, he says, and there have been plenty of customers who have taken him up on the offer. The three-year-old bottle shop secured a license to serve their wares in-store in November, and has since added a handful of small tables at the front of the shop. Customers are time-poor. They have commitments and obligations, and those have costs. And costs have gone up. Distefano is sceptical about the oft-repeated line that customers are looking for boutique experiences, too. When he opened the shop, he wanted to offer something for everyone with an experience that could not be found at the commercial chains. "People will remember how they felt, more than what they ate," he says. "Having that connection with your guests is important." When Distefano received the email from the Newcastle Herald with the news that Audrey Nash, the city's fearless children's advocate, had died last month, he immediately sent a message to her family. Mrs Nash had visited the store a few times over the previous year, and he had got to know her. "Her family came in that night and had drinks and we were a bit quiet," Distefano says. "I sat down with them and reminisced. These people become part of your family." On a Wednesday night, about 9pm, Chris Wilson opens the door to The Koutetsu bar on Hunter Street and immediately puts out his hand. He has been at work since before 9am, and he won't leave until after closing time, but he greets every customer warmly and asks about their day. This new climate has him feeling like he is building his business all over again, and working the same and longer hours. He opens the bar four nights a week. He would like to open for seven, but the demand is not there yet. Uber has been a game changer, helping patrons get around the city on demand. He likes the light rail, but also believes that getting it was a travesty of public planning that almost crippled the city and businesses like his. "It was so hard to get a taxi in Newcastle, back in the day," he says. "I know the tram is very polarising and, mind you, I was lucky that it didn't go in front of my business. The people who got through that debacle - hats off to them because that would have been so stressful, but I use it when I can." Ultimately, he says, the trick to a vibrant social and cultural economy does not come solely from having busy bars and restaurants open all hours. Rather, the city's entire infrastructure must work to serve the population, and one of the happy effects is a thriving hospitality scene. The veteran barman is a stickler for service. He and his bartenders would rather open for 20 customers and serve each of them with consistently impeccable wares than fill the place to capacity and see customers walking out frustrated over a long wait for a drink. He could change his hours, or his menu, or his style on a whim, chasing the new flavour of the week. But he says doing so would cost him the patronage he has spent years struggling to build. "The more you chop and change, the more confused your guests get," he says. "They would rather go somewhere where they know they are going to get a drink." There's no magic trick, no social media algorithm or strategy that will fill the place until it's standing room only. Customers, in that sense, want what they have always wanted. "We're here to serve," Wilson says. "People work hard for their money, and when they are paying for a cocktail, they deserve to get quality and to get it quickly." At Bank Corner on a weekday morning, as the weather cools into winter and a handful of the nine-to-five crowd wait for their order, it's hard to recall that not that long ago we were scared this would all be gone forever. It has been five years since the COVID-19 pandemic reached the Hunter. There was the time before, and the time after. As we get further from it being our present, it becomes clearer that comparing the before and after is futile. Under the long shadow of the virus, living costs choked the weekly budget in a long and painful hangover of swollen inflation, supply shortages, wage stagnation and unaffordable rent. In that climate, venue owners say customers are less concerned about superficial luxuries and retail guff. They care about value for money and the sense of reliability in a world swimming upstream against a cascade of modern anxieties. Alyssa Salamon, the owner of the Newcastle West cafe on Bellevue Street, knows the names of her regulars and their orders by heart. She says Bank Corner customers crave that connection and authenticity. There is no time before the pandemic for her business to compare with now. She has worked in hospitality for years, but only became the owner of the West End landmark in January last year. She wants to keep out the sterile modernities that came from the pandemic years: to take the orders herself, make eye contact with her customers, and chat about their day. There are no screens in the cafe, and little branding. There's no front-facing tablet screen asking for reviews. If the service and the coffee are good, you can mention it to the staff yourself. Chances are, they remember you from last time. "I think there is something to be said for a cosy little corner where you don't have screens," Salamon says. "You're not ordering off a QR code menu. "I've been through my fair share of grieving, and sometimes going to an establishment where you're seen and recognised, and you're held in that bit of gentle space, is important." Salamon has made gradual progress for the past few months on extending the cafe's hours and securing its liquor license, but she is taking it steadily. She's conscious of not changing too much too quickly, and talks often about respecting the history of the place. One of her first improvements was to cut a section of bench that had previously jutted out. A patron had dropped by and offered to help, and Salamon was sawing the timber freehand when she went about 10 millimetres off track. There's a small knot in the side of the bench now, almost invisible if you did not know it was there. For Salamon, it's a stamp of her identity on a place that already has so much of its own. "It was a beautiful way of christening the space in that it was such a community effort," she says. The weekday crowd has never really come back to The Kent. Everyone is watching their spending these days, and the cross-town pub that used to cater to the office and retail workers around the suburb is now competing with the fast-and-cheap alternatives. Still, the 101-year-old Beaumont Street establishment has held on. "I think people are saving their money for the one night a week to go out," group director Chris Fitzsimmons says. "You get those nights where it seems like everyone just picked Saturday this week - no one Friday and then, on Saturday, there's a line around the corner." The venue has been enticing customers back with new lunch specials and pub staples like schnitzels and wings. It has had mixed results, Fitzsimmons says. "The patterns used to be a lot easier to pick," he says. "You used to have a better idea of what was going to happen day to day. These days, it's more crystal ball." Newcastle MP Tim Crakanthorp, who has been involved in a string of revitalisation efforts in the city pre- and post-COVID, says venue owners and managers have been operating in a rapidly changing environment for a long time. The culture has been turning increasingly to moderation. Rates of drinking, particularly among people under 30, have been steadily declining. Of those who partake, the number of weekly drinkers increasing their intake rose around 2013 and has remained fairly consistent since, according to government data. "People are going out, but they are finessing where they go," Crakanthorp says, noting a growing preference for small and medium-sized venues. "The cost of living is driving people out of the city and into the outer suburbs. "There are a lot of green shoots in the night-time economy. For the bigger ones, it is tough at the moment, but we see positives as well." Josh Distefano, the owner of Vera Wine on Beaumont Street, believes there's a benefit in having a small and casual space. You can be in and out in 15 minutes, he says, and there have been plenty of customers who have taken him up on the offer. The three-year-old bottle shop secured a license to serve their wares in-store in November, and has since added a handful of small tables at the front of the shop. Customers are time-poor. They have commitments and obligations, and those have costs. And costs have gone up. Distefano is sceptical about the oft-repeated line that customers are looking for boutique experiences, too. When he opened the shop, he wanted to offer something for everyone with an experience that could not be found at the commercial chains. "People will remember how they felt, more than what they ate," he says. "Having that connection with your guests is important." When Distefano received the email from the Newcastle Herald with the news that Audrey Nash, the city's fearless children's advocate, had died last month, he immediately sent a message to her family. Mrs Nash had visited the store a few times over the previous year, and he had got to know her. "Her family came in that night and had drinks and we were a bit quiet," Distefano says. "I sat down with them and reminisced. These people become part of your family." On a Wednesday night, about 9pm, Chris Wilson opens the door to The Koutetsu bar on Hunter Street and immediately puts out his hand. He has been at work since before 9am, and he won't leave until after closing time, but he greets every customer warmly and asks about their day. This new climate has him feeling like he is building his business all over again, and working the same and longer hours. He opens the bar four nights a week. He would like to open for seven, but the demand is not there yet. Uber has been a game changer, helping patrons get around the city on demand. He likes the light rail, but also believes that getting it was a travesty of public planning that almost crippled the city and businesses like his. "It was so hard to get a taxi in Newcastle, back in the day," he says. "I know the tram is very polarising and, mind you, I was lucky that it didn't go in front of my business. The people who got through that debacle - hats off to them because that would have been so stressful, but I use it when I can." Ultimately, he says, the trick to a vibrant social and cultural economy does not come solely from having busy bars and restaurants open all hours. Rather, the city's entire infrastructure must work to serve the population, and one of the happy effects is a thriving hospitality scene. The veteran barman is a stickler for service. He and his bartenders would rather open for 20 customers and serve each of them with consistently impeccable wares than fill the place to capacity and see customers walking out frustrated over a long wait for a drink. He could change his hours, or his menu, or his style on a whim, chasing the new flavour of the week. But he says doing so would cost him the patronage he has spent years struggling to build. "The more you chop and change, the more confused your guests get," he says. "They would rather go somewhere where they know they are going to get a drink." There's no magic trick, no social media algorithm or strategy that will fill the place until it's standing room only. Customers, in that sense, want what they have always wanted. "We're here to serve," Wilson says. "People work hard for their money, and when they are paying for a cocktail, they deserve to get quality and to get it quickly." At Bank Corner on a weekday morning, as the weather cools into winter and a handful of the nine-to-five crowd wait for their order, it's hard to recall that not that long ago we were scared this would all be gone forever. It has been five years since the COVID-19 pandemic reached the Hunter. There was the time before, and the time after. As we get further from it being our present, it becomes clearer that comparing the before and after is futile. Under the long shadow of the virus, living costs choked the weekly budget in a long and painful hangover of swollen inflation, supply shortages, wage stagnation and unaffordable rent. In that climate, venue owners say customers are less concerned about superficial luxuries and retail guff. They care about value for money and the sense of reliability in a world swimming upstream against a cascade of modern anxieties. Alyssa Salamon, the owner of the Newcastle West cafe on Bellevue Street, knows the names of her regulars and their orders by heart. She says Bank Corner customers crave that connection and authenticity. There is no time before the pandemic for her business to compare with now. She has worked in hospitality for years, but only became the owner of the West End landmark in January last year. She wants to keep out the sterile modernities that came from the pandemic years: to take the orders herself, make eye contact with her customers, and chat about their day. There are no screens in the cafe, and little branding. There's no front-facing tablet screen asking for reviews. If the service and the coffee are good, you can mention it to the staff yourself. Chances are, they remember you from last time. "I think there is something to be said for a cosy little corner where you don't have screens," Salamon says. "You're not ordering off a QR code menu. "I've been through my fair share of grieving, and sometimes going to an establishment where you're seen and recognised, and you're held in that bit of gentle space, is important." Salamon has made gradual progress for the past few months on extending the cafe's hours and securing its liquor license, but she is taking it steadily. She's conscious of not changing too much too quickly, and talks often about respecting the history of the place. One of her first improvements was to cut a section of bench that had previously jutted out. A patron had dropped by and offered to help, and Salamon was sawing the timber freehand when she went about 10 millimetres off track. There's a small knot in the side of the bench now, almost invisible if you did not know it was there. For Salamon, it's a stamp of her identity on a place that already has so much of its own. "It was a beautiful way of christening the space in that it was such a community effort," she says. The weekday crowd has never really come back to The Kent. Everyone is watching their spending these days, and the cross-town pub that used to cater to the office and retail workers around the suburb is now competing with the fast-and-cheap alternatives. Still, the 101-year-old Beaumont Street establishment has held on. "I think people are saving their money for the one night a week to go out," group director Chris Fitzsimmons says. "You get those nights where it seems like everyone just picked Saturday this week - no one Friday and then, on Saturday, there's a line around the corner." The venue has been enticing customers back with new lunch specials and pub staples like schnitzels and wings. It has had mixed results, Fitzsimmons says. "The patterns used to be a lot easier to pick," he says. "You used to have a better idea of what was going to happen day to day. These days, it's more crystal ball." Newcastle MP Tim Crakanthorp, who has been involved in a string of revitalisation efforts in the city pre- and post-COVID, says venue owners and managers have been operating in a rapidly changing environment for a long time. The culture has been turning increasingly to moderation. Rates of drinking, particularly among people under 30, have been steadily declining. Of those who partake, the number of weekly drinkers increasing their intake rose around 2013 and has remained fairly consistent since, according to government data. "People are going out, but they are finessing where they go," Crakanthorp says, noting a growing preference for small and medium-sized venues. "The cost of living is driving people out of the city and into the outer suburbs. "There are a lot of green shoots in the night-time economy. For the bigger ones, it is tough at the moment, but we see positives as well." Josh Distefano, the owner of Vera Wine on Beaumont Street, believes there's a benefit in having a small and casual space. You can be in and out in 15 minutes, he says, and there have been plenty of customers who have taken him up on the offer. The three-year-old bottle shop secured a license to serve their wares in-store in November, and has since added a handful of small tables at the front of the shop. Customers are time-poor. They have commitments and obligations, and those have costs. And costs have gone up. Distefano is sceptical about the oft-repeated line that customers are looking for boutique experiences, too. When he opened the shop, he wanted to offer something for everyone with an experience that could not be found at the commercial chains. "People will remember how they felt, more than what they ate," he says. "Having that connection with your guests is important." When Distefano received the email from the Newcastle Herald with the news that Audrey Nash, the city's fearless children's advocate, had died last month, he immediately sent a message to her family. Mrs Nash had visited the store a few times over the previous year, and he had got to know her. "Her family came in that night and had drinks and we were a bit quiet," Distefano says. "I sat down with them and reminisced. These people become part of your family." On a Wednesday night, about 9pm, Chris Wilson opens the door to The Koutetsu bar on Hunter Street and immediately puts out his hand. He has been at work since before 9am, and he won't leave until after closing time, but he greets every customer warmly and asks about their day. This new climate has him feeling like he is building his business all over again, and working the same and longer hours. He opens the bar four nights a week. He would like to open for seven, but the demand is not there yet. Uber has been a game changer, helping patrons get around the city on demand. He likes the light rail, but also believes that getting it was a travesty of public planning that almost crippled the city and businesses like his. "It was so hard to get a taxi in Newcastle, back in the day," he says. "I know the tram is very polarising and, mind you, I was lucky that it didn't go in front of my business. The people who got through that debacle - hats off to them because that would have been so stressful, but I use it when I can." Ultimately, he says, the trick to a vibrant social and cultural economy does not come solely from having busy bars and restaurants open all hours. Rather, the city's entire infrastructure must work to serve the population, and one of the happy effects is a thriving hospitality scene. The veteran barman is a stickler for service. He and his bartenders would rather open for 20 customers and serve each of them with consistently impeccable wares than fill the place to capacity and see customers walking out frustrated over a long wait for a drink. He could change his hours, or his menu, or his style on a whim, chasing the new flavour of the week. But he says doing so would cost him the patronage he has spent years struggling to build. "The more you chop and change, the more confused your guests get," he says. "They would rather go somewhere where they know they are going to get a drink." There's no magic trick, no social media algorithm or strategy that will fill the place until it's standing room only. Customers, in that sense, want what they have always wanted. "We're here to serve," Wilson says. "People work hard for their money, and when they are paying for a cocktail, they deserve to get quality and to get it quickly."
Los Angeles Times
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
Mark Hilbert hides in plain sight, as himself, in Pageant piece
In a cast of volunteers with many children among them, it is not uncommon for audience members, and especially parents, enjoying an evening at the Pageant of the Masters to know exactly when and where their star will appear. The Laguna Beach-based living picture show has always featured a human element, casting individuals young and old to step in as subjects in the larger-than-life recreation of original artwork. A change in the crowd's decorum on Wednesday evening spoke volumes about just how many people were in on a not-so-well-kept secret. Where an audience might hold its applause until a piece has been presented for its full 90 seconds and the stage has gone dark, attendees were quick to react when the lights went up on Bradford J. Salamon's 'Monday at the Crab Cooker.' Mark Hilbert, who along with his late wife, Janet, co-founded the Hilbert Museum of California Art at Chapman University, stepped in to play the part of himself in the piece. It depicts three men — including Gordon McClelland and Salamon — talking over dinner. 'For years, we'd been talking about the possibility of an art museum, and so that was one of those nights where we were discussing what kind of museum we should have, what kind of exhibitions we should have, and just kicking around some creative ideas to come up with a unique museum,' Hilbert said. 'Then [Salamon] just said to the waitress, 'Hey, would you take our picture?' So she took the picture, and a couple months later, he walks into my office with the painting.' Hilbert said he never faced the audience during the experience, but he could hear the clapping. He attributed the cheering from the crowd to the museum's 'loyal following.' In coming face to face with volunteers in backstage roles as contributors to the costume, headpiece and makeup departments, Hilbert remarked that it was 'staggering' to see the coordination involved in putting on the production. 'I was in it for the fun,' Hilbert said of his one-night-only appearance in the show. 'I thought it would be fun. It turned out to be 10 times more fun with all the different staff people doing this for you, doing that for you. I felt like some kind of a king, or something. 'It was fun, and then when we got up to the moment of being on, it was exciting. This is an exciting moment, something I've never done before. I thought, 'This is great.'' 'Gold Coast: Treasures of California,' the current production of the Pageant of the Masters, takes viewers on a two-hour trip exploring many of the most-recognized art attractions and institutions across the state, including Balboa Park, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and Hearst Castle. Hilbert, a Pasadena native and a retired engineer and commercial real estate investor, said he was 'blown away' to have multiple pieces from his museum — themed for California scene art — among the selected works for the show. 'It was a big deal for me,' he said. 'I could hardly sleep the night I heard about it.' While the art institutions themselves were widely recognized by attendees, Cindi Finley couldn't believe her luck that her longtime place of work was featured in the show. Finley, who went to Huntington Beach High, said she worked as a server at the Crab Cooker in Newport Beach from 1974 to 1998. She moved to the Tustin location until her retirement in 2005. Finley gathered with a group of women from her church at the Hilbert Museum, where she saw the painting of the restaurant. She then picked up a postcard carrying an announcement the painting would appear in the pageant, which she first saw at the age of 16. 'I didn't really read it, but I thought, 'Oh, this is cool,'' Finley said of the postcard. 'When I got home, I saw that this painting was going to be in the Pageant of the Masters, and I had to go. All of the sudden, all these emotions and thoughts and feelings started building about all the people I've waited on, all the cast of characters that I've worked with — very hardworking women. 'There's a history. You basically work with the same people, wait on the same people, and then I loved hearing Mark Hilbert's story — how as a little boy, he was on the [Balboa] peninsula the day they pulled the great white shark that now hangs in the restaurant, how he saw that. There was just this thread of homecoming and of a place that's been a significant part of my life.'
Yahoo
13-02-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Reproductive rights rally hears abortion ban violates some Kentuckians' religious freedom
Attendees at a reproductive freedom rally in the Kentucky Capitol Rotunda hold signs. (Kentucky Lantern photo by Sarah Ladd) FRANKFORT — Just as the Senate and House gaveled in, supporters of reproductive rights rallied in the Capitol rotunda Thursday to call Kentucky's near-total abortion ban cruel and ask lawmakers to undo it. The Rev. Elwood Sturtevant, a board member at Kentucky Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice, called it a 'myth' that abortion is the antithesis of religion. 'Most religious people do not support abortion bans,' he said. 'Majorities of non-evangelical protestants, Black protestants, Catholics, Jews, Muslims, Buddists and humanitarian activists all believe abortion should be legal in all or most cases.' Beth Salamon, a lawyer and the state policy advocate for the National Council for Jewish Women, echoed this idea at the rally, which was organized by Planned Parenthood. 'We have laws in Kentucky protecting religious liberty, but whose religious liberty is being protected?' Salamon asked. 'As a leader in the Louisville Jewish community, I am a proud advocate for reproductive freedom from a faith-based perspective.' Most Kentuckians lost abortion access when, in June 2022, the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe. V. Wade, which had established the constitutional right to abortion. Kentucky's trigger law went into effect immediately, which bans abortion except when the mother's life is at risk. 'I call upon our legislators to protect all religious freedoms,' Salamon said, 'not just one that supports their agenda.' Earlier Thursday, House Democratic Caucus Whip Lindsey Burke, D-Lexington, told reporters at a news conference that her bill to undo Kentucky's trigger law would address the 'increasingly alarming ways' Kentucky's ban plays out. Burke, who is pregnant with her second child thanks to in vitro fertilization, has filed this legislation every year since Roe was overturned. KY lawmaker under 'no delusion' bill restoring abortion access will pass. She's filing it anyway. Burke previously told the Lantern she was under 'no delusion' her efforts to undo the abortion ban would be successful this year. She said Thursday she is leaning into another bill she filed in January, which would ensure the privacy of medical records for those who leave the state for abortions. 'I understand that for many Republicans, a full reversal to the former state of the law is impossible,' Burke said. 'But, perhaps the way we can address that is by agreeing that no woman should be criminalized for doing something that's legal in another state.' Tamarra Wieder with Planned Parenthood Alliance Advocates called Kentucky's current law, which does not have exceptions for rape or incest, extreme. 'Surviving sexual violence is already a nightmare,' she said. 'Forcing someone to remain pregnant after is a cruelty beyond measure.' Both Republicans and Democrats have introduced bills seeking to add exceptions to the abortion ban over the past several years, but none have advanced. Burke called exceptions bills an 'illusion of help' that offer 'false hope' and 'stifle the long-term conversation.' She also expressed concern over some federal appetite for a nationwide ban on abortion. 'The talking point for the longest time among Republicans was that this decision should be returned to the states, and that the reversal in Dobbs left it to the states to decide what's appropriate in terms of women's health care and reproductive care, but now we're seeing Republicans in Washington file federal abortion bans,' Burke said. 'So what that tells me is that the first talking point was illegitimate, and it's always been about controlling women and forcing them to do the things that men want them to do. We can't live in that world. We won't live in that world. We're going to fight against it with everything we have.' Hadley Duvall, who appeared in campaign ads for Gov. Andy Beshear speaking about being raped by her stepfather and getting pregnant at 12 years old, said during the rotunda rally that Roe's overturn was 'a gut punch.' Duvall has openly shared about being sexually abused by her stepfather starting at the age of 5. 'I didn't even know what I was going through was not normal because sex education failed me,' Duvall said. 'The abuse was natural. It was not any different until I was holding a pregnancy test and hearing that I had options.' Duvall miscarried before she got an abortion. She criticised lawmakers during the rally for exercising the 'luxury of choice' in deciding which bills to hear and not hear and said 'regardless of what party you affiliate with, it is widely agreed that nobody wants a politician with you in the doctor's office when making … decisions.' 'I want to know if any lawmakers are prepared to look at a victim that they love and tell them that they wholeheartedly believe they do not deserve options,' Duvall said. 'I want to know if any lawmakers are prepared to wait for themselves or for a loved one to meet death at the perfect time for the provider to intervene. I want to know if any lawmakers are prepared to stand up and claim responsibility for what's going on in Kentucky.' SUBSCRIBE: GET THE MORNING HEADLINES DELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX
