Gabe Silverman pried Charlottesville loose from the cold grip of Thomas Jefferson, who, if we’re honest, never cared enough about the town to grasp it. The town retroactively rearranged his glow for its own basking; Jefferson mostly treated Charlottesville as a supply depot, and then late in life as the thing between the little mountain and the academical village. It remained that for a couple hundred years, in sleepy thrall to its first visionary.
Until Gabe.
