Monkey Bottom

In West Ocean View of Norfolk, Virginia, there exists an area called Monkey Bottom, a name that most conclude did not derive from that particular part of a monkey's anatomy. Numerous theories and bits of lore have been offered to explain the name. The area does in fact include bottomland -- low lying, river-crossed land rich in deposits of sand and clay. Another theory attributes the name to that of a derogatory term for people who lived there, and yet another suggests it derives from either a local sharecropper named Monk or natives called Monks. It may possibly derive from the Pamunkey Indians, who used the local dark gray“Monk Clay for their pottery hundreds of years before. The more broadly accepted theory attributes the name to a woman or family that ran a petting zoo, with caged monkeys. The monkeys escaped, and Monkey Bottom was the result. A local storeowner at that time told of customer comments such as, "It's time to go hear the monkeys holler." So, the original name was Monkey Hollow, and, by the 1920's, Monkey Bottom. It doesn't help that there are no official boundaries for the thus described area. The physical boundaries changed in the 1940's when the Navy filled in the eastern end of Willoughby Bay to expand what is now Naval Air Station Norfolk. Monkey Bottom is located within the general area bordered by Government Avenue, 3rd Street, 4th View Street, and Tidewater Drive. Interstate 64 bisects the area, which over time was stretched west to cover wooded dunes also known as Sand Hills. The western portion of Monkey Bottom is not what one would term "pretty". A large meadow dominates the center, with thick, low-lying trees and scrub brush surrounding the meadow or wetlands. The Navy and other organizations collaborated to establish a Monkey Bottom Wetland Walkway, principally on U.S. Government land. A sign next to the Norfolk Visitor Center describes the wetland area and has adopted the story about two monkey-loving families. A local park called Monkey Bottom Park is on the east side of the area, bordered by West Ocean View on the north, Mason Creek Road on the east, and Tidewater Drive on the west. It has playgrounds and is a pleasant place for families and tourists to visit. Most area residents had never heard of Monkey Bottom, let alone find it on a map. The local residents that lived near and used the park that picked up the Monkey Bottom name were certainly aware of that pleasant, well-groomed piece of real estate, and it was a relatively small number of military and civilians working on Naval Base Norfolk that were vaguely aware of the area on the east side of the base. Owing to its desolation and limited functional value to the Navy, no one ventured out there. It just wasn't the kind of place that conjured up a remark like, "Hey, let's go out to Monkey Bottom." It was a no man's land. Ugly. Useless. It was therefore a shock when a Falls Church, Virginia, tourist, a member of the Falls Church Police Department, who thought he was in the park area but accidentally ended up where he actually needed to be to see his ancestral Pamunkey Indian Tribe land on the U.S. government land, was wandering around Monkey Bottom and came across the body of a dead woman on a day in late May. His call to the Norfolk Police Department started a daisy chain of other calls, such that he ended up telling his story of how he found the body to representatives of Norfolk Police, Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS) and Naval Air Station Norfolk Security Department. A gaggle, for sure. NCIS took the lead to investigate the mysterious murder with collaboration from the other agencies. The question on everyone's mind was, what in the hell was a woman doing in isolated Monkey Bottom, presumably near nightfall and very possibly alone? To everyone but the investigators, the incident became a quick blip on the radar screen of their lives. Like a cloud blown through the sky, there one minute, gone the next. Like a drifter -- same deal. And like the Super Bowl -- the build-up and anticipation, then the game, and it was over, move on. To those whose cognition Monkey Bottom crossed, it simply became, "that ugly murder place." But someone had seen potential in this large, ignored piece of land called Monkey Bottom. His name was four-star Admiral David Logan, then Commander-in-Chief, U.S. Atlantic Fleet, but he would not know at the time that his well-intentioned initiative and vision for Monkey Bottom born a few months prior would set in motion a cascade of events that would irretrievably impact the lives and careers of two Navy flag officers, a Navy dependent spouse, a female government employee, a neglectful spouse, and an NCIS agent.