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This Month, Virginia Gets In The Spirit

Will Gonzalez | September 17, 2020

Topics: alcohol distilling in Virginia, coronavirus, COVID-19, hand sanitizer, Reservoir Distillery, Virginia ABC, Virginia Distillers Association, Virginia Spirits Month

Since 2016, the Virginia ABC has celebrated September as Virginia Spirits Month. This year, they’re stepping up their campaign to bring some of the recognition that usually goes to neighboring states to Virginia’s liquor distillers.

Though other states in the South such as Kentucky and Tennessee are more well-known than Virginia for their production of spirits like Bourbon and Whiskey, the first place in America where distilled alcoholic drinks were produced was Virginia.

Virginia ABC has only been recognizing the month of September as Virginia Spirits Month since 2016, but the history of distilling liquor in Virginia dates all the way back to four hundred years ago, when English settlers from the Jamestown colony began distilling whiskey from corn. Since then, Virginia has been known as the birthplace of American Spirits, and despite COVID-19, ABC and distilleries around the commonwealth are celebrating 400 years of Virginia spirits with a variety of special events and promotions.

Photo courtesy Virginia Distillers Association

The earliest record of whiskey distillation in Virginia comes from December 1620, when English colonist George Thorpe wrote to John Smyth to tell him he had “found a way to make some good drink of Indian corn … [even better than] good strong English beer.” In the 1780s, George Washington owned the United States’ largest rye whiskey distillery in Mount Vernon, and Bourbon County, Kentucky — the birthplace of bourbon — was a part of Virginia until the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. Today, there are 73 licensed distilleries in Virginia, and the commonwealth’s spirits industry generates around $1.3 billion per year. 

Dave Cuttino, one of the founders of Reservoir Distillery in Richmond, got his training at a bourbon distillery in New York, before coming to Richmond in 2008. “I think there were five distilleries in Virginia at that point in time,” Cuttino said. Since then, the amount of distilling taking place in Virginia has grown significantly.

For Virginia Spirits Month this year, Reservoir is doing several special limited releases, including Gray Ghost, Holland’s Ghost, and what Cuttino calls a Hazmat bottle, which is over 140 proof. They’re also reducing their delivery fees to $5 for all orders this month. Reservoir’s deliveries are usually very expensive, and have only been possible this year because of COVID-19.

“Virginia ABC and the special session of the assembly allowed us to do direct-to-consumer sales,” Cuttino said. “So I wish to say we made that happen, but this is at the pleasure of Virginia ABC that we’re allowed to do that.”

Photo courtesy Reservoir Distillery

Like many distilleries across the county, Reservoir spent much of the spring and summer making hand sanitizer. 

“My brother’s an E.R. doctor, so I was acutely aware of what the problem was as it was unfolding, and that there was a shortage of not just hand sanitizer, but all P.P.E.” Cuttino said. “I knew that we could make hand sanitizer, and so we started off by making some and then offering it for free at our roller door to first responders, medical professionals, police, and also the public.”

In the spring, as the volume of hand sanitizer made in distilleries began to increase, the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade of the FDA loosened restrictions on the production of hand sanitizer, which is regulated by the FDA as an over the counter drug, so that it could be manufactured legally by distilleries and other unlicensed producers. 

“If you make hand sanitizer, you have to have a special license from the FDA to do that,” Cuttino said. “The FDA knew that there was a need and that distillers, by all intents and purposes, make drinkable hand sanitizer. So they said ‘We’re going to give you guys special powers to do this.’”

The formula used by Reservoir, which comes from the World Health Organization and consists of 190 proof ethanol, glycerin, and peroxide, is industrial strength.

“This is not your Purell that you walk into CVS and buy.” said Leslie Grimes, a media spokesperson for Reservoir. From March to August Reservoir made nearly 100 thousand gallons of hand sanitizer.

Photo courtesy Virginia Distillers Association

Since Virginia Spirits Month first started in 2016, sales of Virginia spirits in the month of September has increased by 134 percent. Given COVID-19, distilleries around the commonwealth won’t be able to do in-person events, but according to Amy Ciarametaro, Executive Director of the Virginia Distillers Association, the adjustment has gone phenomenally well so far.

“Unfortunately, this is the world we live in right now, where everything has to become virtual, and so that does limit the depth of different types of events we can do,” said Ciarametaro. “But for this year, a lot of folks are going to do educational events online, whether it’s tasting with Virginia distilleries, how to cocktail tutorials, or tours of the distilleries via virtual videos.”

Top Photo courtesy Virginia Distillers Association

This Black-Owned Cupcake Shop in Carytown Serves Cupcakes With A Boozy Twist

Arianna Coghill | November 26, 2019

Topics: black-owned businesses, Carytown, Mesha Cousins, Paint and Sip, Shay Cousins, Tipsy Cupcakes RVA, Virginia ABC

Tipsy Cupcakes RVA’s alcohol-infused treats bring tastiness with a kick.

Three and a half years ago, sisters Shay and Mesha Cousins quit their corporate jobs to create Tipsy Cupcakes RVA, a cupcake shop that specializes in booze infused confections. Located in Carytown, Tipsy Cupcakes RVA is a shop unlike any other.

While not the only shop in town serving alcohol-infused treats, Tipsy Cupcakes RVA sets itself apart by being a representation of the owners’ bubbly personalities and pride in their black culture. 

“We wanted to be different from your average cupcake shop,” said Shay. “From the bright bubbliness of the decor to the R&B music, we wanted to give customers a glimpse of us.” 

When it came to the concept, the Cousins stuck to their guns despite blowback from business consultants who claimed it was too “urban” for the neighborhood. But the Cousins didn’t want the “black” to be erased from their black-owned business. 

“We are proud to be a black-owned business. We are aware of our blackness. We got here with our blackness,” said Mesha. “We were able to make it to this point being who we are without compromising on who we are.”

Twice a month, they’ll host “Paint and Sip” nights that allow customers to paint pictures by black artists while they enjoy a drink from the in-house bar. Occasionally, they’ll use Mesha’s background in bedroom consultation to host “Naughty Paint and Sips,” which features paintings of “naughty” parts of the body. Incorporating more of a nightlife twist to the classic cupcake shop formula was Shay and Mesha’s main priority. 

“It’s nice to be at a point where you don’t have to apologize for who you are. Because I’m my own boss,” said Shay. “I don’t have to answer to anyone.” 

In 2015, Mesha and Shay were working for Capital One, dissatisfied with the monotony and lack of fulfillment that these corporate environments fostered.  

“I felt like we were just a number. That the business wasn’t valuing us or the amount of work that we did,” said Shay.  “And the end of the day, I’m still making someone else successful.”

So the sisters sat together in their car one day after work, tossing around ideas for a business. And within three hours, Tipsy Cupcakes RVA was born. 

They did their first test run by taking a few prototype cupcake samples to a Chuck E. Cheese during Shay’s son’s birthday. Their mother went up to a group of women at a separate party and asked them if they wanted an alcoholic cupcake. The women said yes, tried them, and fell in love. The entire group wanted to know if they could buy them. 

“That’s when the lightbulb went off. We knew we could actually sell these,” said Mesha. “This is our way out. This is how we can become entrepreneurs.” 

Mesha and Shay Cousins

The sisters learned quickly that starting a business is no easy task. Dealing with problems from marketing to liquor licensing, every day provides the women with a new challenge. But just like the cupcakes they sell, though the Cousins may be beautiful on the outside, they also pack a hidden, powerful punch.

“We face challenges all the time. It still doesn’t feel real to us. It’s certainly a humbling experience,” said Shay. 

One of their biggest hurdles was their main selling point — their cupcakes. Since alcohol-infused baked goods are a relatively new concept, Virginia’s ABC liquor laws were not sure how to approach the concept. Strict limits were set on how much alcohol the cupcakes could contain. 

Thankfully, though, due to a legislative change in 2018, Tipsy Cupcakes was finally allowed to introduce their “Jumbo”-sized cupcakes alongside their classic “Tipsy” variety. However, all their cupcakes, from Drunken Sweet Potato to Twisted Strawberry Shortcake, come in alcohol-free varieties. So whether you are looking for a sweet, delicious kick or just a regular tasty treat, Tipsy Cupcakes RVA has you covered.

You can find Tipsy Cupcakes RVA at 3423 W. Cary St in Carytown; to view their full menu, visit their website or their facebook page.

Photos via Tipsy Cupcakes RVA/Facebook

Virginia’s New Fake Liquor: How Nasty Is It?

RVA Staff | April 1, 2019

Topics: Caribe Bay, cheap booze, fake liquor, Flash-point, Hobble Creek, Stryoski, Vera Cruz, Virginia ABC

Created by a wine company to circumvent Virginia’s ABC system, these fake liquors are doing their best to imitate the real thing. But is their best any good? We suspect not… but we had to be sure.

You’ve seen them, in neat little rows next to the gallons of Barefoot, or in the fridge with the Mad Dogs and Bootleggers. They look like the real stuff — whiskey, rum, tequila, vodka, and even Fireball. Pop the plastic cap and they even smell like the real stuff. With names like Hobble Creek, Caribe Bay, Vera Cruz, Flash-Point, and Stroyski, each of these faux-liquors have their own, almost-parody take on their real-life counterparts. So we just had to know: what do they taste like?

Bottled by Maine-based company Brookstone Distilling Company — a subsidiary of a subsidiary of domestic alcohol giant Sazerac — the faux liquors are really a high-percentage grape wine flavored to taste like alcohol. Each bottle is 16 percent alcohol and 32 proof, which allows them to be sold outside Virginia’s Alcoholic Beverage Control system. You can find them in stores that sell beer and wine, available until midnight — long after the liquor stores have closed.

And so it has come to pass that your favorite dynamic duo, Ben and Emily, took it upon themselves to try all but one of the faux-liquors (the elusive gin flavor will have to remain a mystery), to really see what these are about.

Frustrated, determined, and fueled by our shared neuroticism, we likely drove for hours, stopping at every, 7/11, BP, and back-door corner store in Richmond, leaving no beer and wine section unturned.

Often, when we posed the question about whether they sold the little airplane bottles of liquor-flavored wine, we were met with blank stares or a blunt “no.”

Our search turned to desperation as we even tried the ABC store — hoping just maybe they would have one of the elusive flavors. We were met with laughs.

However, when we did find one of the six on the market, we were like kids on Christmas morning. One of us would emerge from the dark and smoke-filled confines of the corner store and gallantly wave our bag in the air.

Finally, after two hours of searching, we were able to find all but one of the faux liquors. So, with the other remaining bottles filed neatly in a black plastic bag, we set off to test them out. Armed with LaCroix chasers and a case of IPAs, we’ll be rating these on their proximity to the real stuff, their taste, and whether or not we would drink and/or buy them again.

Buckle up, kids; it’s that kind of night.

Hobble Creek (Knob Creek Whiskey):

  • Ben: Wow, I was really bracing for something… but it really just tasted like a shot of washed-out whiskey. Maybe mixed with water. Blunt. There was a slight sweet afternote, but the whole thing was completely devoid of burn. Not a bad start.
    • Proximity: 4 out of 5
    • Taste: 3 out of 5
    • Would drink again: Maybe, how broke am I?
  • Em: Have you ever left a glass of whiskey to sit out overnight, then come back the next morning to find all the ice has melted? That’s what this tastes like. Honestly, the taste is not that far from bottom-shelf whiskey, without the burning fire finish.
    • Proximity: 4 out of 5
    • Taste: 3 out of 5
    • Would drink again: Highly unlikely

Vera Cruz (Cruz Tequila):

  • Em: The smell alone made me gag. The thought made me want to vomit. I am willing to endure the disappointment I am bringing to the table, but I couldn’t do it. One bad tequila night has left me unwilling to even drink top-shelf tequila, let alone tequila-flavored gas station wine. I’m sitting this one out.
  • Ben: Tequila in plastic is probably the sign of a bad time. That or spring break in a musty Miami motel. Either way, I skipped the salt and lime. I swear there was a hint of olive at the tail end of this one. Not fun.
    • Proximity: 3 out of 5
    • Taste: 2 out of 5
    • Would drink again: No. And I’m not sorry.

Caribe Bay Silver Label (Coco Caribe Rum):

  • Em: Picture yourself listening to Jimmy Buffett’s greatest hits on cassette, casually relaxing on a tattered beach towel… as a dumpster fire erupts on the beach, flicking ash into the ocean. That’s is the equivalent to this one. ‘
    • Proximity: 3 out of 5
    • Taste: 3 out of 5
    • Would drink again: Only in Margarita-hell  
  • Ben: I’ve never had the pleasure (read: motivation) to try a silver or light rum, but the internet tells me it’s light, sweet, and less aged than your typical pirate beverage. I’ll say this: Caribe Bay Silver Label hasn’t cast the drink in the best light. Right from the start, it’s sharp and syrupy, and goes down like a curdled pint of vanilla ice cream. And it hangs around twice as long as any of the other selections on our menu, even Flash-Point. This one’s a no from me.
    • Proximity: ???
    • Taste: 2 out of 5
    • Would drink again: Most absolutely certainly not.

Caribe Bay Island Space (Coco Caribe Rum):

  • Ben: You snap awake in the first hours of the morning. Your room is still cast in shadow. The little blue dot at the corner of your computer monitor is glowing in the distance, like some far-off gas giant. Your lips are cracking, you’re gasping for air. A night of rum n’ cokes from Helen’s on Main and the PBRs you knocked back in the Uber on the way home are bubbling in the depths of your gut. There’s just one thing on your mind: water.
    You reach to your bedside table and paw around frantically. Your hands close around a Cookout Cheerwine float from the day before. It’s warm. It’s flat. And a film of ice cream has settled on the surface like silt in a pond. But in your hour of desperation, you pull off the lid and suck the whole thing down. It’s disgusting, but at the same time, it’s just what you needed. And you’re not sorry.
    This is the essence of Caribe Bay Island Spiced. It tastes like flat cola with a hint of vanilla, but if nobody’s looking, it goes down smooth. Having a bad night? It might be just what you need.
    • Proximity: 2 out of 5
    • Taste: 4 out of 5
    • Would drink again: Yeah — but shhh — don’t tell anybody.
  • Em: The taste is reminiscent of that one old tanning salon that sits on the edge of your hometown — the one that shouldn’t be in business, but is still running thanks to all the barflies named Barbara. Mixing the smell of tanning salon cream with cherry cola, this is, surprisingly, the best-tasting of the five.
    • Proximity: 2 out of 5
    • Taste: 4.5 out of 5
    • Would drink again: Three days before payday hits, sure

Flash-Point Cinnamon (Fireball Whiskey):

  • Em: This one made me reevaluate my life decisions. It goes down all-but-smooth, with the lingering taste of regrettable memories from high school, finished off with an over-the-top unbearable cinnamon finish.
    • Proximity: 4 out of 5
    • Taste: 2 out of 5
    • Would drink again: Eh, why not
  • Ben: Cast your bets. Flash-Point is the most likely candidate to taste like the real thing. Come on, just pile on the cinnamon, how hard can it be? It’s been years since I’ve delved into the world of Fireball, that sweetly-sick taste of adolescence. But from what I remember, this knock-off is actually multiple times more cinnamon-y. It burned like you could tell it was hiding something. But, overall, not bad.
    • Proximity: 4 out of 5
    • Taste: 4 out of 5
    • Would drink again: Sure.

Stroyski (Stoli Vodka):

  • Ben: Take the shot fast, and there’s a moment of pure nothingness. Like water, or ice — an absence of taste. But give it a second or two, and the regret sinks in. Stroyski tastes like a McDonalds PlayPlace ball-pit smells, or maybe a 25-cent bouncy ball dispenser doused in gasoline and on fire. It tastes like an overcooked chopstick. Give it to me straight doc, just don’t make me drink this again.
    • Proximity: 3 out of 5
    • Taste: 1 out of 5
    • Drink again? No. Just no.
  • Em: Do any of you remember the stop-smoking commercial in which the girl licks a trash can, a doorknob, anything disgusting she could find? Yeah, that commercial lied. That’s not what your mouth tastes like after smoking a cigarette. It is this putrid fake vodka. I had no idea that something could be more vile than Burnett’s, but I was sadly mistaken. A watery vodka taste with a burnt-tire finish is never the answer.
    • Proximity: 2 out of 5
    • Taste: 1 out of 5
    • Would drink again: Nah, I’m good

Written by Benjamin West and Emily Holter; top photo via B&B Distributors/Twitter; other photos by Ben and Em, with special thanks to The Rock

Skill-based Slot Machines Put Vegas at the Corner Bar

VCU CNS | March 27, 2019

Topics: City Beach, gambling, legal gambling, New York Deli, Queen Of Virginia Skill, skill machines, slot machines, Virginia ABC, Virginia Lottery

Despite Virginia’s strict gambling laws, restaurants, bars, and gas stations are adding so-called “skill machines” to draw people who wish to wager money in an attempt to win big. Because the results aren’t left entirely up to chance, these slot-style machines lie in a gambling gray area.

It sits a few blocks from the bustle of Carytown, under a deep blue awning and the gaze of its mascot — a sunburnt moose holding up a pint with a cocked, toothy smile.

When City Beach is nearly empty, the bar is vast and echoey. It appears to defy physics, a deeper space than the building should be able to handle when viewed from the street.

Past the smokers planted on the front patio and just through the doors stands a little room on the left. When occupied, the room can be loud, with an onslaught of clashing, out-of-time electronic sound effects from four bulky machines. Hands come down hard on buttons, and people yell to each other in frustration — or joy when they win a jackpot.

From the spinning wheels and the colorful cartoon images on the screens to the hands pulling out wallets and feeding in 10s, 20s or even $50 bills, the room looks like a miniature Las Vegas.

The machines look, sound, feel, and act like slot machines, which are against the law in Virginia. But these devices are called “skill machines,” on grounds that they’re not based entirely on chance. For the present moment, skill machines are 100 percent legal, and they’re popping up all over the commonwealth.

Besides the touch screen, each skill machine boasts two big buttons — easy to press, easy to slam: “Play” and “Ticket.” These let the player spin or cash out.

In the little room, a man named Pierce sat slightly slouched back at the closest machine to the doorway. He declined to give his last name. Batting his hand at the play button as he spoke, his attention stayed trained on the game.

Gambling isn’t new to Pierce. His mother is “a slot grinder,” and his stepfather has skill machines in the Pennsylvania bars he operates.

“So I’ve been playing these for years,” Pierce said.

At this point, Pierce’s machine said he was at $95. He had put in $45 to begin and had been as high as $160, but the “Ticket” button sat unpressed as Pierce kept testing his luck — or skill, depending on your point of view.

He was playing a game called “Pirates” — his favorite on this machine. Different games have different themes, sounds and cartoon garnishes, but in essence, they all are similar: They are all variations on tic-tac-toe, meaning a certain image has to connect across all three rows, for the player to win.

Bets range from 40 cents to $4. The higher the bet, the higher the payout.

Players are presented a set of three-by-three rows and the goal of making a pattern like tic-tac-toe. Each play costs a bet and spins the rows. The hope is to line up at least two of the same images because once the spin is over, you can place a “wild” anywhere on the board to finish the row.

“So here’s another thing about this game,” Pierce said. “You can hit ‘next puzzle’ and see if the next one’s a winner or not.”

The “next puzzle” option feels like a cheat code to some players, and yes, it’s as straightforward as it sounds. At any point, a player can see the results of their next spin, whether they’ll win thousands of dollars or absolutely nothing. Knowing the next puzzle can help players make their decision: pull out or keep playing. But ultimately, the “next puzzle” is only second in an endless line of puzzles, and many players are keenly aware of this caveat. So they keep betting to see what might be around the corner.

This extra piece of information is the argument for why the machines should be called skill machines and not slot machines. It’s why people like Pierce can step into a bar any night of the week and risk some of their cash in hopes of hitting it big.

Short of hitting a jackpot by lining up the three cartoon tiles assigned to the most money, players tend to hope for a “bonus” win. These are specialty tiles that often specifically say “bonus” on them. They can give the player extra spins or queue a simple minigame, such as opening virtual suitcases or spinning a wheel.

Players’ reactions reveal that these types of wins are exciting, and it’s easy to see why. They are much more attainable than the standard jackpot win, but they can still draw some serious money.

After a few minutes, Pierce hit a bonus, giving him 10 extra automatic spins.

“Oh, look!” he yelled, jumping out of his seat to call down the hallway. “Let’s go, we got the big bonus!”

The rows started spinning rapidly, possessed, and people in the room gathered to watch over Pierce’s shoulder.

Pierce excitedly circled the ice in his drink and yelled a few more times, but as the spins started to run out, he calmed down.

“Ah, it’s not going to be anything crazy, man,” he said, with a tinge of disappointment.

The bonus spins depleted, numbers flew to the center of the screen to calculate the winnings: $50, putting Pierce’s overall money in play at $136 and some change.

“I put $45 in. If I cash out now I’m up $90,” he estimated.

Pierce tapped around on the screen, checking the next puzzle for the bet amount he was playing on. Nothing. Eventually, he pressed the “Ticket” button, and the machine discharged a warm, freshly printed receipt, which Pierce took to the bar and traded for cash.

Soon, somebody else sat at Pierce’s machine. Sure, Pierce had made money, but he hadn’t hit the jackpot. The amount, thousands of dollars, taunted from the screen. It was still anybody’s game.

The legal and corporate perspective

Currently, gambling is restricted in Virginia. State law allows betting on horse races at licensed locations, and charitable gaming, such as a limited number of bingo games and raffles that benefit nonprofit groups.

During the General Assembly’s 2019 session, legislators introduced bills to legalize casinos, authorize sports betting and expand charitable gaming. Most of those proposals failed.

However, skill machines fall into a legal loophole, allowing bars and other establishments to install — and profit from — the devices.

Queen of Virginia Skill & Entertainment, the company that makes the skill machines used in Virginia, says its devices aren’t illegal because there’s an element of skill.

“Our machines’ software take out that element of chance and add skill because, based on the player, they can actually win more money than they put in every single time they play our game,” said Kevin Anderson, the director of compliance for Queen of Virginia Skill and a former enforcement agent for the Virginia Alcoholic Beverage Control Authority.

The software originated in Pennsylvania, where it went through several court systems, Anderson said. He said Queen of Virginia Skill machines are the only ones checked by a government entity.

Attorney General Mark Herring has not filed a complaint against the skill machines. A spokesperson for his office said Herring will let each jurisdiction decide whether to allow the machines.

“We have our games in almost all jurisdictions in Virginia,” Anderson said. He said the machines are located only in ABC-licensed facilities. That would include bars, restaurants that serve alcohol and gas stations that sell beer and wine.

Anderson said that Queen of Virginia Skill asked the ABC to examine its machines and software and that the agency gave a favorable review.

Officials at the Virginia Lottery also weighed in, saying they are not worried about skill machines. However, when asked whether the machines are legal, they declined to comment.

“We were watching closely as they appeared across the state,” said Virginia Lottery spokeswoman Jennifer Mullen. “As of now, we have no concerns.”

One of the many skill machines at Buffalo Wild Wings on West Broad Street, a popular location for the playing community. (Photo by Benjamin West)

This spring, the Virginia Lottery is adding a feature to its app to allow consumers to play lottery-type games through their phones at any retail location in which they connect through a Bluetooth connection, Mullen said.

Trent Hazelwood, a server at New York Deli and a casual skill machine player, said he believes the new lottery app was designed to compete with the skill machines; however, the Virginia Lottery said there is no correlation.

For restaurants and bars, skill machines can provide a new revenue stream. The hosting businesses keep 40 percent of the money that the machines take in. Thirty percent of the revenue goes to the companies in charge of distributing and maintaining the machines, and 30 percent goes to Queen of Virginia Skill & Entertainment.

The personal perspective on skill machines

According to Brice Slack, general manager at Buffalo Wild Wings on West Broad Street in Henrico County, a community has emerged among skill machine players who move from place to place, hoping to hit a jackpot.

“There’s regulars amongst the Queen machine community that kind of hop from establishment to establishment,” Slack said.

Slack doesn’t believe players will have much luck trying to outsmart the machines.

“It is just a series of spins,” Slack said.

In theory, industry officials say, skillful players should be able to win on any machine equally. It’s the distinction that makes the machines legal and popular.

“Players can WIN every time based on skill & not chance,” Queen of Virginia Skill & Entertainment says in a bulleted entry on its website.

But some people who work with the machines daily aren’t convinced.

“Is it really skill? Not really, no. It’s still chance either way,” said Miles Murdock, a server at New York Deli.

Working just a few feet from his restaurant’s machines, Murdock said he is a frequent player. He even remembers the day they appeared at his workplace. He said his boss framed them as a surprise, a gift of sorts to the employees.

Unlike some of his customers, Murdock plays with extra money — his tips — and he views the skill machines as entertainment. The machines aren’t paying his rent or buying his groceries. They’re just for fun, he said.

“We get a lot of people in here who see it as pretty much a revenue source,” Murdock said. “I’d rather just take the money I earn and count on a sure thing.”

But then again, Murdock said some people are much luckier than he is. They come in, win big and often, and have their own little rituals to keep the money flowing, he said.

Hazelwood, Murdock’s coworker, offered an example.

I’m just going to tell you about this one guy,” Hazelwood said. “He pushes the buttons a certain way. He taps the screen a certain way. And he is convinced that, like, the way that he taps the button or presses the screen means that it will trigger something.

At City Beach, Pierce, too, has a ritual: He said he won’t put even dollar amounts into the machines. If he wants to risk about $100, he said, “I’ll put in $105.”

The community of skill machine players can take the game very seriously. At first, some businesses worried about hosting such activities in establishments that serve alcohol. But local businesses have had few problems with skill machine patrons.

“Drunk people and gambling, there’s no way that this can end well,” Murdock remembered thinking when the machines arrived at New York Deli. “However, I was proven wrong.”

Murdock said he occasionally finds parents letting their kids play, which he immediately prohibits — “Participants must be at least 18,” notes a bold, red screensaver as customers sit down to play. Once, a patron told Murdock the machine ate their money.

“Beyond that, we’ve had no problems,” he said. “No disruptive customers.”

Hazelwood described the machines as a “loophole in the law,” and Slack called them “a gray area.”

Virginia has shown reluctance to fully embrace gambling. But at least for these skill machines, those populating bars and restaurants — the servers, managers and people sitting down to play with a drink in their hands — are showing less reluctance.

Care to try your luck? Find a map of skill machine locations in Richmond at http://bit.ly/skill-mach-map

By Benjamin West and Emily Holter, Capital News Service. Top photo: Queen of Virginia skill machines at New York Deli in Carytown, by Benjamin West

No Real Solution In Sight for Violence in Shockoe Bottom

Madelyne Ashworth | August 29, 2018

Topics: Liquid Cafe, McCormack's Irish Pub, Plush, Richmond police department, RPD, shockoe bottom, Virginia ABC

Violence continues to disrupt Shockoe Bottom businesses as two shootings, an armed robbery and a street shooting, both occurred within four days of each other between the 1800 and 1700 blocks of Main Street.

Six people were injured during the armed robbery at Liquid Café in Shockoe Bottom this past Saturday morning, shortly after 5 a.m. A street shooting took place outside Plush Restaurant and Lounge the previous Wednesday, wounding three and resulting in the arrest of 25-year-old Darroll G. Allen of Chesterfield County.

The man was said to have been kicked out of the club, later returning with a firearm and injuring one of the bouncers at the club. He was charged with felony malicious wounding and use of a firearm in the commission of a felony, but the two suspects involved in Saturday’s armed robbery remain unidentified. None of the injuries from either incident were considered life-threatening.

“I am certain that we can all agree that this increasing gun violence in Shockoe Bottom is unacceptable. This cannot be the norm,” said RPD Chief Alfred Durham in a statement after the shooting. “Someone knows the perpetrators of this crime and we need the public’s help. We need people to call us when they hear or see something. We are already working with several stakeholders in the Shockoe Bottom community and we will continue to develop public safety strategies to reduce violence and bring a sense of calm to the area.”

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According to Department Spokesman Gene Lepley, these strategies will include increased police presence on weekends and potential road closures to allow for pedestrian-only walking areas in particularly busy street sections, such as the 1800 block of Main Street.

Liquid Café is not active in the Shockoe Bottom Neighborhood Association. Virginia ABC Spokeswoman Dawn Eischan said both Plush and Liquid Café are under investigation, and Virginia ABC is working with Richmond Police. Plush’s wine and beer license is suspended until further notice, and their liquor license has been revoked.

“Virginia ABC believes that there is a continued threat to public safety at this establishment and these actions are necessary to protect the health, safety, and welfare of the public,” said Eischan.

Local business owner William “Mac” McCormack is relieved after learning Virginia ABC’s decision, as he and several other business owners in the Shockoe Bottom Neighborhood Association have contested the licenses of several Shockoe Bottom clubs in the past.

“We felt [these clubs’] level of promotion was not conducive to the neighborhood,” said McCormack. “No matter how much effort we made with the ABC Board, they were still granted the license. They’ve had a continuation of violence the last couple years. It drives me a little bananas as a business owner because we’ve been trying to prevent these types of nightclubs from opening because there’s this kind of violence that happens outside of them.”

McCormack is particularly frustrated with the response from the City of Richmond as well as RPD over the past eight years, as their reactions to violence have been to increase police presence and introduce road blockades rather than rezone, revoke business licenses, or decrease maximum occupancy limits in nightclubs. According to McCormack, preventing access to local business caused by the blockades have directly affected his sales. Total sales over his 21 years of businesses average $650,000 to $700,000 per year, yet after introducing blockades, sales dropped to $62,000 in one year.

He hopes that in the future, all Shockoe Bottom businesses will focus on their local community and take responsibility for the neighborhood around them.

“As a neighborhood, we are working hard on trying to make some changes but we’ve been trying to make these changes for eight years,” McCormack said. “The city’s answer is to obstruct our businesses with blockades, and I don’t know if that’s a good answer.”

However, the owner of Plush nightclub, Juan Wilson, feels he’s being unfairly targeted.

“I’m big on accountability. If something were to happen in my venue, it’s a different story, but when something happens on the city streets or sidewalk, we have no control over that,” Wilson told WTVR in a recent interview.

The Shockoe Bottom Neighborhood Association held a meeting earlier this week with business owners, but according to WTVR, Wilson said he was not invited to the meeting.

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