Edwin “Eddie” Slipek Jr., 1950-2025 (Photo by John Henley)
He was everywhere and nowhere to be found, all at once.
Twenty years ago, I was still a relative newcomer at Style Weekly when I got a call from a Virginia Commonwealth University police officer looking for Eddie Slipek, then the paper’s senior writer and architecture critic, who had witnessed a midday shooting on Ryland Street, near campus.
Audibly frustrated, Sgt. Chris Preuss explained how he had tracked down at least a half-dozen witnesses and gathered their testimonies for court. But there was one person he still needed to talk to: Slipek, who somehow didn’t have a cellphone or a car, and was seemingly never at home.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I later learned that the nomadic tendencies of Style’s longest-tenured journalist — he was known for his deep knowledge of Richmond’s built environment, but to me he was first and foremost a storyteller — weren’t just some annoying personality quirk. They were Slipek’s superpower.
We were always waiting for Eddie, but when he did show up — he might be soaking wet from the rain or snow or famished from a midsummer trek across the city — he was more present than anyone I have ever known. It’s difficult to explain, but you always felt like the center of the room when Slipek walked in.
“He always seemed interested,” explains Jeff Bland, art director at Style from 1989-2011. Slipek always had a story to tell, often involving somebody famous. “I remember him talking about having dinner with a bunch of people, including Tennessee Williams. He was just such a great conversationalist, because he had those great stories but also because he was such a great listener.”
After a brief illness, Slipek died this week, aged 75. He was a gatekeeper, a guiding spirit within Richmond’s preservationist community. He taught history and architecture at the Maggie L. Walker Governor’s School and at VCU. He was an illustrious writer and journalist who helped launch the Richmond Mercury, a precursor to Style, in the early 1970s.
Slipek won countless awards for his journalistic endeavors and architectural acumen, earning honorary membership in the Virginia Society of the American Institute of Architects and the Branch Medallion (2023) from The Branch Museum of Design.
His real gift, though, was contextualization — his ability to connect the dots, explain our surroundings holistically, to give students, readers and anyone who would listen a sense of place. And he did so joyfully, with an inexhaustible exuberance.
“Eddie understood that a city is continually evolving,” says Bill Martin, director of The Valentine museum, whose friendship with Slipek spanned three decades. “He was an advocate for historic buildings, but also for historic places — like Monroe Park, streetscapes. He knew there were going to be new buildings, but he had this amazing ability to figure out what should be in places as buildings were demolished.”
Martin says he leaned on Slipek for advice, always. “All of the projects that The Valentine has undertaken, whether it’s the studio, [or the] galleries — we did an addition to the building — I would always sit down with Eddie before we would take on such a project,” Martin says. “There’s a quiet whisper of Eddie in all of them.
“There was nothing like a drink and dinner, and crazy, wonderful conversation with Eddie,” Martin says. Slipek was just as comfortable rubbing shoulders with old-money socialites as the person sitting next to him on the bus. “There was no bubble with Eddie,” Martin adds. “He knew everybody.”
He was Richmond’s proverbial man on the street, physically and spiritually.
In a first-person account of the VCU shooting in September 2005, “Bullets Over Ryland,” Slipek described how a group of concerned citizens, including himself, followed a large man who was roughing up a woman outside a laundromat.
The assailant grew increasingly frustrated by the half-dozen or so people following and surveilling him. Between references to Ryland Street’s architectural significance — a “prime example of axial design,” Slipek wrote, “the street is well-defined on both sides with interesting and diverse building types that create strong and textured urban walls” — he described a near-death experience as only he could.
From our side of the street, someone yelled one last time, “Leave her alone, bitch!”
The assailant turned, eyes raging, and shouted back, “Stay there, I’ll be right back.” … Then, seemingly within seconds, the assailant darted out of the house to the edge of a low wall, lifted a rifle, aimed at those of us across Ryland Street and opened fire.
BANG — BANG — BANG — BANG!
I was Style’s news editor at the time, but I don’t remember working on the story. I don’t recall how long it took for Preuss, the police sergeant who worked the shooting, to locate Slipek. (Reached by phone on Tuesday, neither does Preuss).
What I do remember is how Slipek narrated the incident while sitting in the newsroom: with a wide, infectious smile, as he did with all of his stories, be it an afternoon of dodging bullets from an AK-47 or the West End party he attended the night before.
“He was the heartbeat of Style in the micro, but also the macro because he was representing Style in the city for so many years; he was that, too,” says Bland, whose daughter, Nora, was so inspired after taking Slipek’s history class at Maggie Walker that she became a city planner and now works out of Denver.
There are countless others; Slipek inspired so many students and budding journalists (see Rich Griset’s moving tribute at Style). He loved giving walking tours of the city, Martin says, and connected with literally everyone he met.
“There’s not going to be another Eddie who has that sense of place, that joy of living life in Richmond,” Martin says. “From young students to retired folks, he led everyone along on the adventure.”
Indeed, Slipek was always worth the wait. —Scott Bass
Passing the Torch
For better than a half-century, Eddie Slipek chronicled the multitiered story of the city, advocated for its architectural heritage and criticized while also occasionally complimenting the new kids/buildings on the various blocks. He also wrote about the arts and theater. Not only that, but he designed stage sets for TheatreVirginia (at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts) and the Firehouse Theatre.
Slipek, born, raised and educated here, grew to learn more about the nooks and crannies of the city’s history than anybody else. His writing career tracked back to the short-lived but influential Richmond Mercury of the 1970s, as a publicist for the showroom retailer Best Products, and 30 years of columns and features for Style Weekly. He taught classes at Maggie Walker and seminars at the University of Richmond and VCU.
The popular analogy of memories lost when an elder passes being like a library burning down is, unfortunately, entirely appropriate here.
Slipek inspired many. Here are just a few. —Harry Kollatz Jr.
Longtime Style Weekly writer Rich Griset describes Slipek as his mentor, “my own personal Auntie Mame”:
“He was in love with the world. He was in love with a good story. He had plenty of tales: accidentally crashing John Belushi’s memorial service, party hopping with Robin Williams, meeting Andy Warhol and Edward Albee numerous times. But he was more interested in hearing your story. He would pepper you with so many questions it could be hard to tell a story. It was because he cared. He was at once the most social person I’ve ever met and also one of the most private. We had a funny, “Odd Couple”-like friendship, him the irrepressible boomer and me the slightly cynical millennial. He was my mentor, my guru. I can’t overstate the impact that he had on my life. I literally bought my first suit so I could attend cocktail parties with him. He was also such a booster for the city. He was constantly trying to push us all to be better.”
Ray Bonis, formerly of the Virginia Commonwealth University James Branch Cabell Library Special Collections and Archives, and an aficionado of Richmond’s literary and cultural history, observes:
“As a writer, Ed was a thoughtful advocate for better urban planning in Richmond. He asked builders and city planners to be mindful of the city’s architectural history in their designs for new buildings and to consider how the cityscape impacted pedestrians. His real legacy might be his impact on hundreds of students he taught for decades, including those at the Maggie Walker Governor’s School, or at VCU in his Richmond Architectural History classes. I took one of his classes and learned so much about architecture and the city’s history. He was a generous, friendly person and will be missed by so many. His death is a real loss for this city.”
According to Cyane Crump, director of Historic Richmond:
“Eddie was a former board member of Historic Richmond, an academic and an unparalleled raconteur. Over the past decade, as he worked on our Duncan Lee manuscript project, he had become a fixture at our office, mentoring us all and adding joy to every day. Eddie’s knowledge of Richmond’s architectural history was deep and broad.
“He shared that knowledge with students, with friends and with the general public through lectures, classes, his Architecture Richmond website, and op-eds in Style Weekly and Richmond BizSense. His devoted fan base sought every opportunity to learn from him, delighting in his romantic retelling of forgotten stories of people and place. Through his work, he built a greater appreciation for Richmond’s architecture and history — this is a legacy for which we are enduringly grateful.”
Elizabeth Kostelny, retired director of Preservation Virginia, recalls:
“As the former CEO of Preservation Virginia, we crossed paths on preservation-related issues in the city. He was one of a kind. Always quick to assess the situation. Always kind in offering encouragement. Through his writings, teaching and advocacy, Ed championed what makes Richmond stand out: the integrity of its historic fabric. As issues arose, he forwarded solutions that accommodated growth and change while preserving the distinct character of this historic city. There will never be another Ed Slipek. His legacy will live on through his friends, students and those who reread his columns.”
Says former Style Weekly reporter Chris Dovi:
“Eddie Slipek really and truly cared about Richmond’s heart and its bones — its history, architecture and how it all connected together. I sincerely hope city leaders will find a way of honoring that love and legacy in some meaningful way beyond a one-off proclamation.”
