Show Must Go On? Blue Arrow’s Petition Push Meets Its Own Paper Trail
By Kat Leslie
WARWICK — At first glance, The online campaign to “save” Blue Arrow Farm tells a good, compelling story: a beloved community gathering place, an animal sanctuary, and a town government standing in a way.
It’s a good story.
Town officials say it’s also not true.
“This claim is simply not accurate,” said Jesse Dwyer, responding to the petition and social media push. “The Town supports our local farms… We want to see them succeed within the framework of our laws.”
That last part—within the framework of our laws—is where the story starts to split.
Because while the petition insists the events are “responsible and compliant,” the approved site plan says otherwise.
That approval—not social media, not petitions—is what governs the property today. It tells a much narrower story – one that looks very different from what is happening on the property now.
What Was Approved
Blue Arrow was not approved as a farm market like Pennings Farm Market, Applewood Winery, or Warwick Valley Winery.
Instead, the property was approved as an “outdoor amusement establishment” such as game farms—a category built around low-impact, nature-based uses: a butterfly garden, apiary, sunflower maze, nature walks, picnics, and a storytelling center.
While all allowed, it came with boundaries.
The original site plan spelled those out clearly: a total of 145 parking spaces were approved, with 100 allocated to events—supporting a maximum capacity of approximately 200 people. Food and beverage service was permitted only as an accessory use, subordinate to those primary, nature-focused activities.
Those terms were not imposed after the fact. They were proposed by the owner, submitted by his engineers, reviewed by the town, commented on by the public, and ultimately approved.
However, what exists today, town officials suggest, looks very different.
Over time, the property has morphed into what critics describe as a high-volume event venue—hosting car shows, concerts, themed festivals, and private parties.
Online promotions appear to reinforce that shift.
The farm’s website advertises a wide slate of events, from tribute bands and themed festivals to corporate gatherings and weddings. In some cases, promotional materials have boasted turnout numbers far exceeding approved limits—up to 500 classic cars at shows, and crowds reportedly surpassing 500 people, with at least one instance approaching 1,000 attendees.
Those figures stand in stark contrast to the approved capacity.
Town officials have cited those discrepancies as part of ongoing enforcement concerns, including exceeding occupancy limits. They also cite unauthorized construction, including a stage, food service areas, and other structures not reflected in the approved plan.
Carnival-style events, reportedly have been held without required permits.
Since 2019, more than 130 police-related incident reports have been logged at the property.
In 2024, the town issued a formal violation notice outlining those concerns.
The owner was given time to address them through the proper channels.
That did not happen. The issue is no longer theoretical. It has already been tested in court.
Owner Don Oriolo was found guilty of violations related to the operation and fined $1,000—a penalty some view as modest given the scope of activity alleged.
Even so, the town has not moved to shut the venue down.
Supervisor Jesse Dwyer has rejected claims that the town is trying to shut Blue Arrow operations, instead framing the issue as one of safety and compliance. “This is about following the rules that were put in place,” he has said.
The question now is not whether Blue Arrow Farm can continue to operate.
It is whether it will do so by aligning with the approvals it has—or by formally seeking new ones.
Officials say they have offered a path forward: bring the current operation into the open through the Planning Board process and seek approval for expanded use.
That process begins with a formal application—one that would allow public review, conditions, and potential adjustments to capacity, safety measures, and infrastructure.
To date, that step has not occurred.
What has occurred, however, is a growing public campaign.
The petition circulating online frames the issue as a fight to preserve a “beloved community gathering space”. It calls for “reasonable guidelines” and urges the town to step aside.
But the guidelines are not missing.
They are written—clearly—in the site plan the owner himself submitted, negotiated, and ultimately received approval for.
And unlike a petition, they carry legal weight, and are not optional.
The petition itself—while effective in rallying support—raises its own questions. Critics suggest the campaign is less an organic groundswell and more a strategic appeal, driven in part by the same operation that stands to benefit from continued high-volume events.
There’s an old business philosophy that tends to surface when rules start getting in the way: it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
It’s a strategy (though not especially well played here, as neither permission nor forgiveness appears to have been pursued by the owner). It’s just not a zoning policy.
In other words, the call to “save the farm” may also be a call to preserve a business model that, at least on paper, does not fit the zoning it operates within.
Yet, none of the voiced concerns appears to be stopping the show: events at Blue Arrow Farm continue to be advertised. Tickets continue to be sold. And the crowds—if past numbers are any indication—are expected to keep coming.
All of which leaves Warwick officials facing a familiar but increasingly uncomfortable question: at what point does community popularity outweigh the rulebook—or does it?
Because while the narrative online paints a picture of a farm under siege, the documents tell a different story—one where the issue is not whether Blue Arrow Farm can exist, but whether it can continue operating as something it was never approved to be.
And in Warwick, as in most towns, zoning laws are not suggestions. They are the fine print everyone agrees to—right up until it becomes inconvenient.
