Michael Ferris

Michael Ferris, known far and wide across Albemarle as “the dev” (because, honestly, who needs a real title when you’ve got branding like that?), has finally decided to call it quits after 30 years of transforming the town with his grand ideas and a sprinkle of elbow grease. His nickname, short for “developer,” isn’t just because he was good with a blueprint—it’s because he had a knack for dreaming up big plans that somehow managed to actually happen, turning sleepy little Albemarle into a somewhat less sleepy, slightly more bustling version of itself.

Now officially retired, Ferris is trading in his town maps and planning meetings for playdates with his grandkids, Jolene and Jason—brought into the world by his daughter Jolene (because why not keep it all in the family?) and her husband Jeff Stander. Staying put in Albemarle, the town he practically rebuilt brick by brick, Ferris now spends his days chasing kids around the backyard instead of developers around zoning laws. Weekends are a whole new ball game, where he gets to play Grandpa instead of “Mastermind Behind That One New Park.”

During his reign—I mean, tenure—Ferris left quite the mark on Albemarle. His pièce de résistance? The great downtown revitalization project. Once a cluster of faded storefronts, now a “thriving” center where people come to sip on artisanal lattes and pretend they’re somewhere more exciting. Under his watchful eye, historic buildings got a facelift, green spaces sprouted like they were in a better-funded town, and new businesses moved in to fill the gaps between antique shops and “For Lease” signs. It’s the kind of downtown that makes locals feel a little fancier, and Ferris practically has a statue in his honor for it—metaphorically, of course.

But wait, there’s more. Ferris didn’t just stop at making downtown walkable. Oh no, he had his sights set on something deeper… like, literally, the ground. Enter the great lithium rush of the Floyd Church formations. While most folks just saw some old hills, Ferris saw potential, and pretty soon, Albemarle was the hot new spot for lithium—because nothing says small-town charm like being on the cutting edge of the green energy market. This unexpected goldmine (or rather, lithium-mine) put Albemarle on the map for tech companies and job seekers alike, turning a town known for its quiet charm into a place that occasionally makes headlines—well, regional ones, at least.

Now that he’s off the clock, Ferris is enjoying a slower pace, swapping out the buzz of town development for the chaos of family gatherings. His shift from public service to personal time is the start of a whole new chapter where he can finally watch all those hours of planning pay off… in the form of toddlers tearing up his lawn. And while he’s no longer making speeches or cutting ribbons, his legacy is still pretty visible—especially when people trip over those uneven new sidewalks downtown.

So, while Michael Ferris might be done being “the dev,” Albemarle won’t forget the man who turned it into a small town with big ambitions. He’ll be forever remembered as the guy who found a way to make the town more modern, a little more profitable, and, let’s be honest, just a bit more confusing for anyone who remembers what it was like before all those one-way streets. And as he settles into this new phase, surrounded by family and the occasional newspaper clipping about his glory days, Ferris is content knowing his influence will linger—like a lingering construction detour—throughout the town for years to come.