cuchulainn
Member
From Richmond Style Weekly (Richmond,Va.)
http://www.styleweekly.com/article.asp?idarticle=12477#
http://www.styleweekly.com/article.asp?idarticle=12477#
June 14, 2006
Home on the Range.
Angry neighbors say it’s like living near a war zone. he gun club says it’s just exercising its rights. Is a culture clash in Hanover
by Brandon Walters
Two worlds collide on Hopeful Road. Here, in this western hamlet of Hanover County, grazing horses and breezy knolls are signs of serenity and country living in a place where neighborliness covers a lot of ground — from a distant wave to lending a hand with a stalled tractor.While no subdivisions yet attest to sprawl, suburbanites and city transplants are increasingly calling this area of Hanover near the Louisa County line home. It’s about 30 minutes from downtown Richmond, and its proximity to Interstate 64 makes it ideal for seeking the retreat of rural living within striking distance of modern amenities.
It’s also a place where recreational marksmen like to unload rifles and semiautomatic handguns. Members of the Cavalier Rifle and Pistol Club, located at the end of Boondock Lane for more than 40 years, relish their freedom to shoot in the great outdoors.
The club, the only of its kind nearby and one of roughly 1,800 nationwide, has a roster of 400 who pay $200 each for membership. Names are not divulged, but Ed Coleman, the club’s executive officer, says men and women of all walks of life are represented — judges, doctors, politicians, ministers, caterers and day laborers. Former U.S. Secretary of the Treasury John Snow frequents the club, although Coleman declines to say whether he’s a member or guest. Sporting clays is among Snow’s favorite pastimes, and his most recent visit stands out, Coleman recalls: “I had to tell the Secret Service to slow down on Boondock Lane.”
The county is rich in the firearm tradition. In the 1700s, when Virginia’s British Governor Lord Dunmore, fearing rebellion, seized the colonials’ gunpowder stock in Williamsburg, it was Hanover native Patrick Henry and his militia who faced down the Brits and demanded the return of the ammunition. Known in history books as the “Gunpowder Affair,” the incident was the precursor to the Second Amendment.
While the gun club’s members preach history, nearby residents say they’re being robbed of the comforts promised by 10-acre lots: safety, space and peace of mind.
Delina “Dee” Papit, whose property lies a little more than two miles south of Cavalier, says she lives in a constant state of anxiousness over the noise. She says it can erupt at any time, causing her heart to jump and her walls to quake. “It sounds like Baghdad over there,” she says, “and it’s not something you expect to hear when you walk outdoors in the country.”
In the last decade, 482 houses have sprouted within a three-mile radius of the gun club. By all accounts, most residents who live in them knew the club existed nearby, deep in the forest, and opted to dwell alongside it.
But many of them say the club’s grown beyond what is reasonable — with deliberation and perhaps secrecy. The upset neighbors contend that the club has illegally expanded from two ranges to at least six and has transformed from a private club into a quasi-commercial operation. They say it attracts thousands of outsiders to National Rifle Association-sponsored competitions that can produce an ear-piercing 9,000 rounds a day.
Gun club members insist that the club has always functioned within its rights and that turnout to its 70 or so special events and competitions yearly has declined from a peak in the early ’90s. Members say their critics are inflating the volume and duration of noise produced by regular members shooting on the ranges and the gunfire of occasional matches. They point out the club’s good works in the community — playing host to camp-outs for various scouting groups and 4-H Clubs, to whom they teach marksmanship.
“When I look at who’s complaining,” Coleman says, “I see a hard-core group of people who’re objecting to us being here, who haven’t lived here long enough to know what’s best for the county and who want to tell other people how to live.”
Such a confrontation of old and new ideas about what country life means, in this still-rural pocket of Hanover, was bound to lead to lawyers. The 18-month fight is likely to come to a head this week.
Papit, 47, wears jeans and a John Deere T-shirt with her blond hair pulled back in a twist. She stoops in her garden to admire the pesticide-free, organic results of densely planted vegetables whose yield, in late spring, is impressive. Behind the garden are neat stables where she keeps her horses. She saves animals, too, from shelters — hence a white, one-eyed cat, the shepherd mutt, Sophia, and a huge lizard, all of whom reside indoors.
Papit grew up in rural Floyd County amid a thriving gun culture. She and her husband, an architect, moved from Richmond’s South Side to Vontay Road in western Hanover in 1998. They cleared a section of their 25 acres and built their dream house, which looks luminous and pristine amid smaller hillside bungalows and aging farms.
Their peaceful way of life is in jeopardy, Papit says, because of the “unrelenting duration and intensity” of the gun club’s escalating activities and noise in the last five years. A few years ago Papit became curious about why the gunfire seemed more pronounced and frequent. She polled neighbors but uncovered little. Then she consulted the gun club’s Web site, which boasted a membership of 400 with a waiting list of two to three years. It also invited NRA members and other marksmen to participate in gun competitions, often for cash prizes.
Papit called the county around November 2004 to express her concerns. She wanted to know whether lead from spent bullets could amount to dangerous levels of soil and water contamination. She wondered how residences just 600 feet from a gun range were protected from errant bullets. But mainly she wanted to know how a gun club could grow so drastically without the necessary permits — and without the county and the public knowing about it.
Other residents began seconding Papit’s complaints. The county investigated. It conducted site visits of the club and found problems.
In March 2005 Hanover County cited the gun club with three counts of violating zoning ordinances pertaining to its shooting-range expansion and infractions of building and environmental codes.
But lawyers for the county and the gun club say the club hasn’t paid any fines to the county — and won’t — because the cost to become compliant exceeds the misdemeanor property fines associated with the zoning violations. In effect, the gun club received amnesty from the county because it is allowing the range to operate during the appeal and application process.
For Papit, a marketing consultant who works from home, a growing frustration with jolting gunfire has turned to dismay. She resents that the county did not put the club through the same tedious permit process she and other neighbors say they must navigate in order to build onto or make changes to their properties.
She formed a citizen’s group called Respect Our Rights to lobby local officials to crack down on Cavalier. She says about 40 residents who live within a three-mile radius of the club are avid members.
She has a DVD at the ready for anyone who will watch. On it are video clips recorded on random days, she says, that demonstrate the rapid-fire gunplay heard at three different households up to 1,000 feet from the club on Hopeful Road in Hopeful Hills — all northeast of Cavalier where some ranges are aimed. The clips make the neighborhood sound disturbingly like a war zone. Gunfire that pops like fireworks or booms like cannons seems to stretch for minutes without relief.
“The gun club controls when we have peace and when we don’t have peace,” Papit says. Yet it’s the residents, she says, who contribute exponentially more in taxes than the club, whose mostly far-flung members come from outside the county.
The gun club’s Coleman says he’s been consumed with the zoning saga for the better part of two years. Coleman, 66, is a contractor and a builder of horse barns and arenas. He lives a half-mile from the club, just over the Louisa County line. On a recent day his Subaru hatchback is stuffed with work supplies as he pulls up outside the crude electric gate to Cavalier.
A posted sign reads: Entering shooting club. Live fire. Exercise caution.
It’s the only warning sign. No fence demarcates the club.
Before entering, Coleman gestures to a crew of men working to build something near a modest house adjacent to the club’s property. Coleman explains that Cavalier is paying to build a tractor shed for the woman who lives there because her husband is chronically ill. It’s the kind of stewardship the club practices, he says.
The club’s also kept valuable land safe from bulldozers, he says. “All the people on this road know if we weren’t here it’d be a subdivision,” Coleman says of the residents on Boondock Lane. “They all support us.” He shows copies of letters as proof.
In 1959, Frank Hargrove Sr. — now Delegate Frank Hargrove, who represents Hanover — sold 102.4 acres of land to then-state Sen. Leslie D. Campbell, according to county property records. Campbell got a special-use permit for the property in 1965, allowing it to be used as a recreational facility for “a rifle range, fishing, boating and other outdoor recreation” by the Cavalier Rifle and Pistol Club.
The club constructed two shooting ranges — one for rifles and shotguns, another for pistols. Nearby residents such as Coleman joined the club to practice marksmanship, especially out of hunting season, and to fish and socialize.
Coleman has been a member since 1975. Until recently, he was a revered champion of pistol matches. But he’s given up firing on the ranges in order to help preserve them. His shoulder is a bit spent, too, he adds. He still revels in an occasional trip to Colorado to hunt elk, but apart from that he doesn’t shoot.
The club’s purpose has always been to teach and promote marksmanship, he says. No gun permits are required to shoot there, no guns are sold there — or anything else — and the only rules are those posted by the club. Through the years, Coleman’s taught plenty of 10-year-old girls how to properly shoot and handle a rifle, he says, and nothing compares to the look of accomplishment on their faces when they hit the target. He’s coached Olympic hopefuls and future sharpshooters in the military. He helped assuage the fears of a prosecutor, worried about the release of a criminal she’d put away, by teaching her how to draw and shoot a pistol in 1.7 seconds.
continued in next post