As I drove into Burlington last week, Mission of Burma‘s “That’s When I Reach for My Revolver” blaring over the stereo, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being a hypocrite.
The election was over, and the fascists had won. I know, I know — Mitch McConnell said we’re not supposed to call the fascists “fascists,” but growing up in the ’80s really prepares you to say that word with the exact right amount of venom.
As I mentally doomscrolled from one dark fantasy to the next, all ending with me overthrowing the evildoers, I recalled my first few weeks as music editor at Seven Days, back in 2021. Donald Trump had just riled his supporters to sack the U.S. Capitol. A handful of Vermont musicians were believed to have taken part, including former Rough Francis bassist Dan Davine. Davine has denied any involvement in the attack on the Capitol, though he was at the rally beforehand. He was subsequently fired from the punk band and left Vermont for Florida, where “insurrection” and “day of love” can more easily be confused with one another.
I roundly criticized Davine and the others, as did the majority of the local scene. But it wasn’t lost on me that, four years later, I was the one now fantasizing about bringing down the government. Like Ferris Bueller said, life moves pretty fast.
It was an odd juxtaposition to feel those urges even while pulling into the parking lot for the main offices of the City of Burlington’s Department of Parks, Recreation & Waterfront. But for all of my Mad Max mood swings, I needed to cover a bit of local government in action.
Amid all the wreckage and fear on social media after the election, I kept seeing posts from local musicians about a hearing being held by the Parks Commission. Word was, an indie-rock show staged in Pomeroy Park in October ruffled a few residents’ feathers, largely due to noise levels.
The concert was organized by Burlington indie rockers Greaseface, who performed along with Peg Tassey & the Loud Flowers. It had been set up by the book, with the musicians getting a special use permit from the city to have amplified music from 7 to 9 p.m. That didn’t stop several local residents, including former city councilor Jane Knodell, from lodging complaints and calling on the commission to reevaluate the process by which Burlington park permits are issued. This was the topic of last week’s hearing. In other words, banning rock and roll from certain parks — in the city where a young mayor named Bernie Sanders once saved punk, no less.
In a Front Porch Forum post, Knodell wrote that Pomeroy is designated by the city as a “neighborhood park, unlike larger parks like Oakledge and Battery,” and therefore shouldn’t be hosting events such as the October rock show, which local resident Samuel Press, who spoke at the hearing, described as a “noise riot.”
Having worked for the City of Burlington in another life, I was pretty familiar with how commission meetings usually work. It was unsurprising to see the commission members seated around a largely empty table, with just a few residents waiting to speak their turn.
But within minutes, local musicians and fans started to stream in. One by one, they signed in and took their seats, turning the room into something between a Norman Rockwell painting and a crowded night at Radio Bean. And one by one, they testified.
First up was the Dead Shakers‘ Kevin Bloom, who read a prepared statement from his notebook as he faced the commission.
“I’m deeply troubled by the idea that there could be a new precedent set by retroactively revoking this permit,” Bloom said. “I grew up near Boston and watched a DIY art community get dismantled by things like this.”
Other musicians, including Will Kruglak, Zack James (Robber Robber) and Greaseface’s Jackson Glover, got up to talk about the show itself, describing it as a community event that brought joy to the Old North End neighborhood, which is largely populated by students and younger residents.
“The reality is, there aren’t other parks where we can hold events like this without incurring heavy costs,” Glover said. Reserving a space such as Battery Park costs $200. Factoring in sound equipment, security and other expenses, some of the musicians claimed that staging a show at a bigger park could end up costing nearly a thousand dollars. Meanwhile, getting a general park permit for Pomeroy starts at $30, which helped the bands throw the free show in October.
“It’s also special to hold an event like that in a park that feels like ours,” Glover said. “We live right there. We’re there all the time, and a lot of the people who were there that night were from the neighborhood.”
Many who spoke pointed out that the show was a one-off concert that lasted two hours on a Saturday night — “shorter than the sports events at the school I live nearby that keep me up some nights,” Tassey said when she addressed the commission. “But I understand events like that are for the community and bring joy, so I don’t mind tolerating the noise for a few hours. I wish other people would think like this, honestly.”
Erin Malone, owner of Momo’s Market on North Willard Street, close to Pomeroy, also spoke. She has hosted a community party in the park since 2021 and defended the use of the park for residents. While she did concede that the show in October was “very loud,” she didn’t see any reason to withhold permits.
“Pomeroy is a complete gem that should be available to the community,” Malone said. “Maybe the answer is to hold the events earlier, near dusk.”
“This is not really about denying access to art groups,” said Knodell, who lives near the park and appeared at the meeting remotely via Zoom. “The issue is the commission’s decision to grant a waiver to allow amplified sound up to 9 p.m., which made it seem to us that this would be a routine thing going forward.
“Pomeroy Park is a public space, but this does not mean that all members of the public can do whatever they want in that space,” she continued. “We need to acknowledge that some uses do adversely affect other people. Not getting your sleep can have serious health impacts for some people. The role of the commission is to balance all the community’s needs.”
The testimonies went on for the better part of an hour, and while we all knew ahead of time that no decision would be made that night, it was strangely satisfying to see a diverse group of people interact about something they disagree on. There were no arguments or fights. Not a single speaker interrupted another. No one called anyone a liar or questioned their intelligence. A disagreement had arisen in the community, and the community showed up to politely debate the issue. It was boring and pedantic and beautiful all at once.
As of press time, the commission hadn’t reached a decision about the future of events at Pomeroy Park — but I’ll keep you updated, so stay tuned. In the meantime, it was nice to see civilized democracy in action, at least here in our little city.
Correction, February 17, 2025: This story has been updated to reflect former Rough Francis bassist Dan Davine’s description of his involvement in the events of January 6, 2021.
The original print version of this article was headlined “Unquiet Riot”
This article appears in Nov 20-26, 2024.
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