→ See more of our coronavirus coverage, including community resources and personal stories.
It’s been almost fifty years since President Richard Nixon’s April,1973 announcement hit Newport with the subtlety of a sneak attack. The president said the U.S. Navy’s Atlantic Fleet would sail away from the City by the Sea to a new home port in Virginia.
Newport was the birthplace of the Navy. In war and peace, the Navy defined Newport. From the Revolutionary War until deep into the Cold War, it was a Navy town. The city’s economy was anchored to sailors. More than 20,000 naval personnel were stationed on Aquidneck Island, backed by 4,000 civilian workers. Within months 14,000 military and civilian jobs evaporated. Unemployment soared to 20 percent.
At first the local reaction was disbelief, then denial and anger. Newporters organized “Save our Ships” rallies and traveled to Washington, D.C. to protest. A gallows humor bumper sticker sprouted around town. It read, “will the last person to leave Newport please turn out the light.”
Then reality set in. Business and political leaders took an inventory of the city’s assets: Its rich history, the preserved Gilded Age mansions, the beaches, the sailing heritage, the vibrant nightlife, the summer music festivals that drew thousands.
The city embarked on a path of reinvention as focused as that Jazz Age Fitzgerald character, Jay Gatsby. Rather than slake sailors thirsts at waterfront dive bars, it would yoke its economy to separating well-heeled tourists from their wallets.
The new Newport flourished with jazz, classical and folk festivals. Summer evenings featured classical music spilling from mansions, all leavened by Chardonnay and Atlantic breezes on wide lawns. Fort Adams overflowed with top jazz and folk artists.
All those visitors spawned a thriving restaurant and hotel scene. Newport became a wedding mecca, with brides and grooms partying at the mansions and hotels. The International Tennis Hall of Fame tournaments sold out. International sailing regattas brought boats from around the world. Tourism became a $700 million dollar a year business. None of these events feature social distancing.
The coronavirus is threatening all that. At the mansions, CEO Trudy Coxe of the Preservation Society of Newport County has been forced to layoff all part-time employees and apply for federal aid. It’s not just the shuttered mansions and the lack of attendance fees that are hitting her organization. The cancellation of weddings and corporate events and parties are hurting. The society may also lose symposiums, flower shows and the music festival that fills the Gilded Age summer homes of that era’s one-percent.
One of this summer’s major events was to be golf’s U.S. Senior Open, which was expected to draw thousands to the Newport Country Club, one of the sport’s founding courses. Already, the United States Golf Association, which runs the tournament, has cancelled it. There will be no corporate tents catering to the well-heeled sponsors. While Newport has a reputation as a bastion of the summer rich, the businesses that cater to them aren’t built to weather losing May, June and perhaps July. Erin Donovan-Boyle, executive director of The Greater Newport Chamber of Commerce says about 80 percent of the chamber’s 1,100 members are businesses with ten or fewer workers.
The uncertainty about when things could reopen is causing anxiety to ripple through the community. Evan Smith, director of the Discover Newport tourist promotion group, guesses it may take three or four years to recover from the economic hit.
On a recent sunny afternoon, Bellevue Avenue was empty, the students from Salve Regina University long gone.
Newport has survived wars and recessions, but nothing like this.
Scott MacKay’s commentary can be heard every Monday morning at 6:45 and 8:45 and at 5:44 in the afternoon.
