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Armen Garo – Acclaimed actor from The Sopranos, The Departed, CODA, and moreGreg Hanna & Neil HaleyLive from the Grotto on The Neil Haley ShowVeteran actor Armen Garo joins Neil Haley and Greg Hanna for a compelling and wide-ranging conversation full of stories from the stage, the streets of Providence, and the sets of some of Hollywood's most iconic films.From sharing real-life inspiration for his wise guy roles to revealing what it was like working on Martin Scorsese's The Departed and Oscar-winning CODA, Armen takes us on a raw, honest journey through his career, his process, and his passion for storytelling.He also dives deep into Zoom acting during the pandemic, his earliest performances, and the unspoken power of restraint, observation, and wisdom in both acting and life.
Join Kevin Lynch of SouthBmore.com as he sits down with Will Fagg, the heart and soul behind Tiny Brick Oven in Federal Hill, Baltimore. In this inspiring episode, Will shares his remarkable journey from Southern food roots and Airbnb Superhost to crafting artisanal pizzas in his own backyard. Hear about the challenges of running a small business, including the near-closure that was miraculously averted by a Christmas miracle. Then, witness the incredible "One Bite Effect" as Dave Portnoy of Barstool Sports makes a surprise visit, changing everything. Discover how this unexpected review sparked an outpouring of community support and a generous donation that saved Tiny Brick Oven. Will also shares his future plans and unwavering commitment to the community. In this episode, you'll learn: Will's unique journey from Southern cooking to artisanal pizza. The struggles and triumphs of running a small business. The life-changing impact of Dave Portnoy's "One Bite" review. How community support can transform a struggling business. Will's vision and plans for Tiny Brick Oven's future. Links & Resources: Dave Portnoy Donates $60k to Tiny Brick Oven (Story by SouthBmore.com): https://www.southbmore.com/2024/12/25/dave-portnoy-donates-60000-to-tinybrickoven-in-federal-hill-during-viral-pizza-review/ Tiny Brick Oven Website: https://tinybrickoven.com/ Dough-Nate Pizza to the Hungry: https://checkout.square.site/buy/AGS6OEDIFCMXJJROZTYEWCOP Kevin Lynch (Pizza Channel Kevin) - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@pizzachannel
Give us about fifteen minutes daily, and we will give you all the local news, sports, weather, and events you can handle. SPONSORS: Many thanks to our sponsors… Annapolis Subaru, the SPCA of Anne Arundel County, the Bay Bridge Boat Show, the Annapolis Spring Sailboat Show, and Hospice of the Chesapeake. Today... A teenager faces 22 attempted murder charges after two shootings in Annapolis. A local restaurant manager earns statewide recognition. Poets have a last chance to enter the Gongshi Poetry Challenge. And a popular Federal Hill bar is closing, with an arcade bar set to take its place while its former owner prepares to launch a new concept. Stay tuned for the details. Link to daily news recap newsletter: https://forms.aweber.com/form/87/493412887.htm Trevor from Annapolis Makerspace is here with your Maker Minutes! DAILY NEWSLETTER LINK: https://forms.aweber.com/form/87/493412887.htm The Eye On Annapolis Daily News Brief is produced every Monday through Friday at 6:00 am and available wherever you get your podcasts and also on our social media platforms--All Annapolis and Eye On Annapolis (FB) and @eyeonannapolis (X) NOTE: For hearing-impaired subscribers, a full transcript is available on Eye On Annapolis.
It was our Honor for Judge Frank Caprio to join us for an extraordinary conversation on his Italian American heritage and illustrious career. We start our journey on Mulberry Street, delving into the heartfelt tales of his family's immigration from Italy to the U.S. Judge Caprio offers poignant memories of growing up in Providence's Federal Hill neighborhood, highlighting the profound influence of his cultural roots on his educational pursuits and eventual path to law. As the first in his family to attend college, his reflections on overcoming financial hardships to secure an education showcase dedication and resilience, themes that resonate deeply throughout the episode. Our discussion then shifts to Judge Caprio's remarkable journey as a compassionate judge, a path shaped by his father's lessons of empathy. We revisit his early days on the bench, where he honed his unique style of justice, emphasizing the importance of understanding the human stories behind each case. Judge Caprio's anecdotes reveal how the Italian heritage of compassion and generosity guided his career and how this legacy of empathy continues to inspire him. The stories he shares underscore the core values of justice, love, and understanding that define his approach to the law and his interactions with those who stand before him. Finally, we celebrate the vibrant Italian American culture and its iconic figures such as Joe DiMaggio and Rocky Marciano, whose legacies extend beyond their respective sports. Judge Caprio reflects on their influence, as well as the impact of his own Italian American community in Providence. We also touch on his new book, which encapsulates his life's work and the values of compassion and empathy that he holds dear. This episode is a heartfelt tribute to Italian American heritage and a vivid portrait of Judge Caprio's inspiring life and career, offering listeners a wealth of wisdom and a reminder of the enduring power of love and compassion. HIS SOCIALS Youtube: @TheRealFrankCaprio Instagram: @therealfrankcaprio Facebook: Frank Caprio Website: https://www.frankcaprio.com/ BUY THE BOOK: https://www.amazon.com/Compassion-Court-Life-Changing-Stories-Americas/dp/1637746032/ref=asc_df_1637746032?mcid=1b5ec8de4e243e199773e3b4367bb6c1&hvocijid=3467306987248324708-1637746032-&hvexpln=73&tag=hyprod-20&linkCode=df0&hvadid=721245378154&hvpos=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=3467306987248324708&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9198132&hvtargid=pla-2281435177658&psc=1
Send us a textRay Patriarca was a complete hellion on the streets of Providence RI. He was named public enemy #1 in 1938. He was accused as an accessory to murder, armed robbery and an assortment of crimes. His boss got jacked up in a tax beef and Raymond assumed the big seat. He ruled the underworld with an iron fist and he oversaw the most profitable era in New England history."The Man" moved operations to the Federal Hill neighborhood of Providence, its remained there since 1952. Don't miss this episode!! Please share!The Mob Museum-https://bit.ly/4hbaJD0Go Local Providence-https://bit.ly/42ttoWa
Bobby and Jared discuss sports betting partnering with the lottery to make virtual scratch tickets, Federal Hill in Providence, turning into a giant Italian goomba, Festivus in July, and The Penguin on Max. Make sure you SUBSCRIBE to the show to stay up to date on the latest releases! You can also find the video show on YouTube by clicking here. Make sure you check out LMNT electrolyte drink mix at drinklmnt.com! Use the following link to get a FREE variety pack with your first purchase! http://elementallabs.refr.cc/jaredmello Thank you to our sponsor MoonBrew! Go to www.noonbrew.com/jaredmello for 10% off your entire purchase! Thank you to our sponsor The Ice Pod! Go to www.podcompany.com and use our promo code: JARED10093 for $10 off your entire purchase! Make sure you sign up with MyBookie.com to get all of your bets in. Use our promo code: SARCASMPOD to double your first deposit up to $1000
Nate Carper and Kevin Lynch welcome Zac Blanchard, the newly-elected city councilman for Baltimore's 11th district, on the podcast. Blanchard, who has a background in military service and neighborhood economic development, narrowly won the primary election by 48 votes. Blanchard discusses his campaign strategies; future plans for addressing key issues, such as abandoned properties; and his vision for education and public safety. The episode also touches on his stance on the Inner Harbor redevelopment, crime in Federal Hill, and improving recreational facilities. Blanchard additionally shares insights into his future day-to-day life as a councilman and his strategies for effective communication with constituents. Blanchard's first episode on the podcast as a candidate. Traffic study for the proposed road charges in Harborplace Master Plan.
Join the conversation with C4 & Bryan Nehman. Bobby Zirkin sat in for Bryan Nehman this morning. C4 & Bobby discuss juvenile justice solutions. The latest on the murder of United Health Care CEO. Mother's in Federal Hill set to close. President Biden is considering preemptive pardons. Listen to C4 & Bryan Nehman live weekdays from 5:30 to 10am on WBAL News Radio 1090, FM 101.5 & the WBAL Radio App.
Give us about fifteen minutes daily, and we will give you all the local news, sports, weather, and events you can handle. SPONSORS: Many thanks to our sponsors… Annapolis Subaru, the SPCA of Anne Arundel County, Solar Energy Services, and Hospice of the Chesapeake. Today... In today's news: Anne Arundel County upholds its paper bag fee to promote environmental responsibility; Delegate Shaneka Henson seeks a Senate seat; Annapolis Green announces its closure after 18 years of advocacy; and Mother's Grille plans to close its Federal Hill location after nearly three decades. Link to daily news recap newsletter: https://forms.aweber.com/form/87/493412887.htm Trevor from Annapolis Makerspace is here with your Maker Minutes! And as usual, George from DCMDVA Weather is here with your local weather forecast! Please download their app to keep on top of the local weather scene! DAILY NEWSLETTER LINK: https://forms.aweber.com/form/87/493412887.htm The Eye On Annapolis Daily News Brief is produced every Monday through Friday at 6:00 am and available wherever you get your podcasts and also on our social media platforms--All Annapolis and Eye On Annapolis (FB) and @eyeonannapolis (TW) NOTE: For hearing-impaired subscribers, a full transcript is available on Eye On Annapolis.
This week! Mother’s Grille is closing in Federal Hill oh the memories or lack there of. Anyway the Podgang discusses that and cold weather activities (White Christmas, Snowmageddon of Yore), murder number go down in Baltimore yay but meanwhile in New York a CEO is assassinated and everyone make big jokes about it. Crazy times. […]
Welcome to Hey Rhody Rewind, where we dive deep into the 100+ episode back episodes of Hey Rhody Podcast. In this week's episode we are joined by Mads and Caroline Vericker, owners and founders of HeartLeaf Books a new Co-Op bookstore on Federal Hill. Mads, Caroline, Nick and Sascha talk about how Mads always wanted to start their own thing, how a yard sale kicked off HeartLeaf Books, finding their spot on Federal Hill, why starting a co-op was so important to them, and more! Stay connected with HeartLeaf Books Heartleafbooks.com | Instagram | Facebook | TikTok Stay Connected on Instagram: @HeyRhody | @PVDMonthly | @So_RI | @thebay_mag Follow Jenna: @jennnaaakap Follow Chris: @letschatrevill and @letschatpodcasting Subscribe to Our Youtube Channel: Youtube.com/@heyrhody Hey Rhody Media: Interested in advertising with us? Drop us a line at Mail@HeyRhody.com
Join the conversation with C4 & Bryan Nehman. Bill Vanko sat in for C4 this Thanksgiving morning. Bryan & Bill started the show responding to listeners texts as to why they were up at 5:30am on Thanksgiving. There was an attack in Federal Hill over a pizza. O'Malley speaks on Morning Joe. Bryan's stance on turkey will shock you. Bill Vanko talks the latest animal news. Bryan and Bill dive into an interview that two of the actresses in the new movie Wicked did and it is strange. Could Kamala Harris make a run for California governor in 2026 or another presidential run in 2028. Listeners share Thanksgiving traditions. Listen to C4 & Bryan Nehman live weekdays from 5:30 to 10am on WBAL News Radio 1090, FM 101.5 & the WBAL Radio App.
This week we have another user-requested show, as we travel back to Morris County in Northern New Jersey to take a look at more Bigfoot sightings! In this episode, we have a few daylight sightings of sasquatch, a silhouette of a large humanoid, tree knocks reported at the same location 2 years apart, and strange vocalizations! If you've ever wondered if Bigfoot roams the Garden State, listen to these encounters and let us know if you're convinced! #bigfoot #newjersey #morriscountynj 2:29 - Afternoon sighting while hiking at Mahlon Dickerson Reservation 10:15 - Possible wood knocks heard near Hibernia Bat Cave/Wildcat Ridge in Rockaway 13:53 - Possible Wood Knock Interaction at Wildcat Ridge near Rockaway 23:22 - Man recalls incident during childhood -- possible vocalizations near Split Rock Reservoir Dam 30:31 - Group observes animal in daylight, one mile from Federal Hill near Riverdale 40:03 - Man sees tall dark silhouette in Rockaway Township swamp Links! Follow us on Social media! Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/oddanduntold/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/oddanduntold Website: https://www.oddanduntold.com Email me! : jason@oddanduntold.com Merch Store: https://oddanduntold.creator-spring.com Check out Riversend, the band behind "Moonlight," our awesome theme music! Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/1yIwfeu2cH1kDZaMYxKOUe?si=NIUijnmsQe6LNWOsfZ2jPw Riversend Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Riversendband Riversend Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/riversendband/
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Join the conversation with C4 & Bryan Nehman. C4 & Bryan recap the sports weekend with the Ravens & Orioles. It was a violent weekend in Baltimore City with a shooting in Federal Hill & other incidents. A new NBC News poll for the presidential race. Ryan Coleman, President of The Randallstown NAACP joined the show discussing the crime against the Jewish community among other issues. Issac "Yitzy' Schleifer also joined the show to react to the interview as well. A Butchers Hill update & could more private police be coming to the city. Listen to C4 and Bryan Nehman live every weekday from 5:30-10:00 a.m. ET on WBAL News Radio 1090, FM101.5, and the WBAL Radio App!
A cargo ship has crashed into the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Maryland, destroying the bridge and dumping multiple cars and many people into the river. A gigantic search effort has now been launched as rescue crews attempt to rescue people from at least seven submerged vehicles. This is a developing story.A Summary of The Francis Scott Key Bridge: Name: Francis Scott Key BridgeLocation: Baltimore, Maryland, USASpan: The bridge spans the Patapsco River, connecting the neighborhoods of Federal Hill and Locust Point with the community of Butchers Hill.Significance: The Key Bridge is a significant landmark in Baltimore, named after Francis Scott Key, who wrote the lyrics to "The Star-Spangled Banner," the national anthem of the United States.Construction: The construction of the Francis Scott Key Bridge began in the mid-1970s as part of the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel Project, aimed at improving transportation infrastructure in the region. The bridge was designed to alleviate traffic congestion in the area and provide a vital link across the Patapsco River.Completion: The Key Bridge was completed in 1977, and since then, it has served as a crucial transportation artery in Baltimore, facilitating the movement of vehicles between various neighborhoods and communities on either side of the river.Features: The Francis Scott Key Bridge is a steel arch bridge with a total length of approximately 1.6 miles (2.6 kilometers). It provides multiple lanes for vehicular traffic, accommodating thousands of vehicles daily. The bridge offers picturesque views of the surrounding area, including the Baltimore skyline and the Patapsco River.Legacy: Beyond its practical function, the Key Bridge holds cultural and historical significance as a tribute to Francis Scott Key and as a symbol of Baltimore's infrastructure development. It has become an iconic landmark in the city, recognized for its distinctive design and role in connecting different parts of Baltimore.(commercial at 8:17)to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comsource:Baltimore bridge collapse live updates: Ship lost propulsion, warned of collision, officials say - ABC News (go.com)
The redevelopment of Harborplace downtown continues to be at the center of debate and speculation. The masterplan for this site's redevelopment will go before the city's planning commission this Thursday. Harborplace was sold to the private Baltimore developer MCB Real Estate in 2023. MCB unveiled new designs for the site which require a change in usage to allow two additional residential towers. City voters will be asked on Nov. 5 to consider a referendum question to allow that change on, what for decades has been considered, public parkland. The Inner Harbor Coalition is a group of residents, architects, stakeholders and others who are vocally against the referendum. Two members of the coalition join Midday to share their perspectives: Ted Rouse, local developer and son of Harborplace visionary James Rouse. Michael Brassert, Director/Producer at Houpla, Inc. and Federal Hill resident. We invited MCB officials yesterday to participate in this discussion, but they did not respond. P. David Bramble of MCB Real Estate joined Midday in May of last year to discuss his ideas for Harborplace. You can listen to the interview here: Reimagining Harborplace, and other city development projects Photo Credit: AgnosticPreachersKid via Wikimedia Commons Email us at midday@wypr.org, tweet us: @MiddayWYPR, or call us at 410-662-8780.
Back after six weeks off the airwaves. Internet problems, still ongoing but workable this week.It's actually a pretty chilled mix this month. The mix opens with lush deep vibes courtesy of Jimpster. We build gently with jazzy vibes along the way, the odd sing along here and there.The main part of the mix again has a UK feel, with those bumpy skippy warm beats.I really thought I was going to run out of new music and have to blend towards the end, but it worked out almost perfectly.Happy to report that I am involved in a few nights here in Sydney. Open House is shaping up to be a monthly event at The Barrie, featuring South African sounds, phunky house, latin vibes and UK beats. Larry's Herd is another new night with a focus on 90's deep house and disco sounds. Finally there is Boogie which ended its tenure at the picturesque Ivy Pool Club. I'm looking forward to seeing where they call home next summer. If you're in the Sydney please come and support so that we can have cool music and nice things in our city.Tracklisting:1: beatsbyhand, Rona Ray, Jimpster - Say Yes (Jimpster Extended Remix)2: musclecars - Running Out Of Time3: Beau - Stuck On Repeat (Extended Mix)4: Black Eyes - Jazzin Deeper5: Groove Synergy - Running (Original Mix)6: Demarkus Lewis - Sight Unseen (Original Mix)7: Miguel Migs, Ursula Rucker - Connectivity (Migs Jazzy Touch Revision)8: Federal Hill, TMVS (Tommy Musto And Victor Simonelli) - I Have Something For You (TMVS Club Mix)9: Joe Silva, Mariana Caňadas - Lucky Days (Joe Silva-s Mix)10: Luis Machuca, casomado - Oh Why (I Want You) (Casomado Mix)11: Romeo Louisa - For Your Love12: Babs Presents, Choc-l-t Crew - All U Gotta Do (Garage Edit)13: Luca Olivotto - Blue (Original Mix)14: CASSIMM - I Hear You15: GotSome, Katy Alex - Take It Slow (Extended Mix)16: Danny Phillips (UK) - Give Me Your Love (Original)17: Soul Magic, Ebony Soul, Ann Nesby, Jason Serrano - Get Your Thing Together (Jasson Serrano Instrumental Remix)18: Jason Walker, Dj Georgie Porgie, Glenn Friscia - All To You 2K24 (Glenn Friscia - Georgie Porgie Dub)19: The BAANGBROTHERS, Coflo, Tomahawk Bang, OVEOUS - Actin Up20: RyanEXOE, Pat Lok, Life on Planets - Bounce (Extended Mix)21: Jakob Mäder - 1991 (Fast Mix)22: Oscar P - Split Personality23: The BAANGBROTHERS, Coflo, Tomahawk Bang, OVEOUS - Actin Up24: Romeo Louisa - Can You Feel MeEnjoy!
In this episode of the South Baltimore podcast, hosts Nate Carper and Kevin sit down with Taylor Schwartz, the director of Federal Hill Main Street, at their Federal Hill office. Taylor discusses the recent extensive rebranding of Federal Hill Main Street, which includes a new logo, colors, and a user-friendly website. Taylor explains the role of the organization in supporting local businesses, maintaining neighborhood charm, and organizing events. She also highlights the unique walkable nature of Federal Hill and the diverse community it serves. Additionally, Taylor shares insights into the collaborative efforts between various Baltimore Main Streets and Federal Hill's initiatives to address community needs such as safety and economic vitality. Lastly, she touches on the positive impact of increased attendance at Orioles games on local businesses. 00:00 Welcome to South Baltimore Podcast 00:18 Introducing Taylor and Federal Hill Main Street 01:08 Federal Hill Main Street Rebranding 02:14 New Website Features and Community Impact 05:06 Understanding Federal Hill Main Street's Role 07:03 Why Federal Hill is the Place to Be 11:17 Supporting Local Businesses and Safety Initiatives 17:02 Taylor's Journey and Passion for Nonprofits 19:40 Impact of Orioles' Success on Local Businesses 21:04 Closing Remarks and Call to Action
In this episode of the Break the Ice Podcast, we welcome back "Good Looking Sal". I share insider tips from my trip to Saratoga for the Belmont Stakes and recommend podcasts for road trips.We then dive into a debate about Caitlin Clark's potential inclusion in the Olympic roster and its impact on the WNBA's visibility and revenue, drawing parallels to Christian Laettner's role in the Dream Team. We discuss player rivalries, like Caitlin Clark vs. Angel Reese, and their effect on women's basketball viewership.We also cover topics like generational work ethic, adaptability, the political landscape, and the cost of living, with personal stories about staffing issues and technology adaptation. In our "Overrated or Underrated" segment, we debate Providence's Waterfire event and Federal Hill, offering restaurant recommendations. We end with our future plans, including "Cooking and Booking" ,and encourage listeners to follow us for more content.
In this engaging episode of the Break the Ice Podcast, host Ken the Kidd sits down with state representative Enrique Sanchez. They discuss Sanchez's father's 24 years of sobriety, his bi-coastal upbringing between Providence and Iowa, and his journey into politics fueled by a love for history and community activism. Sanchez shares insights on the housing crisis, the challenges of supporting small businesses, and the importance of being present in the community. The conversation is peppered with personal anecdotes, including sibling rivalries with his brother, who is also a politician, and their family's entrepreneurial background. They also touch on the crime issues in Federal Hill, the need for term limits, and the unique dynamic of being a young, active politician. The episode is a blend of serious discussion, humorous exchanges, and a look into Sanchez's commitment to his constituents, making it both informative and entertaining.
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Providence, especially Federal Hill, and all of RI are alive and well - with plenty for you to do. We interview Rick Simone, who is actively involved in promoting the wonders of Providence and businesses throughout RI. Learn what's going on in the vibrant city and state, as well as what's behind the scenes (and even underground). In the segment that follows - online scammers attacking everywhere and every age group. Listen and learn...
This episode takes listeners on a journey through South Baltimore's vibrant community life as hosts Nate and Kevin discuss enjoying the spring weather, upcoming neighborhood events, and local sports updates. They give special shoutouts to new sponsors and local businesses, including Don Tigre for its fantastic tacos and happy hour, M8 Beer for its Australian beers and game day specials, and Sparkling Charms for its pediatric dentistry services. Additionally, the hosts cover the local breakfast and brunch boom featuring new restaurants and bakeries enhancing the area's culinary scene. The episode takes a more serious turn as it addresses the Archdiocese of Baltimore's plans to consolidate church facilities, impacting the South Baltimore community. Lastly, the Movement Team's efforts to improve relations between Digital Harbor High School students and the Federal Hill community are highlighted. The episode concludes with a call to listeners for a photo challenge to engage the community further, offering a chance to win gift cards to local restaurants. Photo Challenge: Email photos of local places and see if our audience can guess where you are! carpercreative@outlook.com Deadline for submission is May 15th 2024. We will pick 15-20 top photos and each photographer/owner of the photo will be entered into a chance to win a few restaurant gift cards from a local business here in the neighborhood. In your email, please share where you took the picture ( in case you stump us too lol) . 00:00 Welcome to South Baltimore: A Vibrant Community Update 00:12 Celebrating Spring and Local Favorites 00:40 Shoutouts to New Sponsors and Local Hotspots 03:06 Spotlight on South Baltimore's Business Scene 06:15 Addressing the Church Consolidation Plan 09:01 Community Initiatives and High School Engagement 10:59 Upcoming Events and Weekend Fun in Baltimore 12:17 Engaging with the Audience: A Photo Challenge 13:50 Closing Remarks and Appreciation
Autism, or autism spectrum disorder, is typically diagnosed in children by about age five in the U.S., according to the National Autism Data Center. About 1 in 36 American children are affected by autism, up from 1 in 44 from previous data. April is Autism Awareness Month. But at Zoe's Just Dezzerts in Baltimore's Federal Hill neighborhood, autism awareness is part of every day. We visit with Zoe, her mom, Jennifer Goldszmidt, and employee Kelsey Parker. Then Taya Dunn Johnson, from the Autism Society of Baltimore-Chesapeake, tells us about the resources the non-profit provides for people with autism and their families. Links: Zoe's Just Dezzerts events, Autism Society of Baltimore-Chesapeake, Awareness event Sat. April 27, and Making Autism Work on Sun. April 28th at Coppin State geared toward helping autistic adults navigate job searches, resume building, mock interviews. Do you have a question or comment about a show or a story idea to pitch? Contact On the Record at: Senior Supervising Producer, Maureen Harvie she/her/hers mharvie@wypr.org 410-235-1903 Senior Producer, Melissa Gerr she/her/hers mgerr@wypr.org 410-235-1157 Producer Sam Bermas-Dawes he/him/his sbdawes@wypr.org 410-235-1472
Chris recaps the 2024 Frozen Finals and gives thanks to the people who make the week so special. He follows sweet sentimentality by discussing his disastrous brackets and offering picks for the coming week. Chris evaluates Rajon Rondo's complicated history, shows how the Dodgers have copied the Braves, and examines the diverging paths of the New York ballclubs.
Angelos Civita Farnese owner Jamie Anignano joins Bill Bartholomew to talk about the Federal Hill restaurant's 100th anniversary.Support the show
A cargo ship has crashed into the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Maryland, destroying the bridge and dumping multiple cars and many people into the river. A gigantic search effort has now been launched as rescue crews attempt to rescue people from at least seven submerged vehicles. This is a developing story.A Summary of The Francis Scott Key Bridge: Name: Francis Scott Key BridgeLocation: Baltimore, Maryland, USASpan: The bridge spans the Patapsco River, connecting the neighborhoods of Federal Hill and Locust Point with the community of Butchers Hill.Significance: The Key Bridge is a significant landmark in Baltimore, named after Francis Scott Key, who wrote the lyrics to "The Star-Spangled Banner," the national anthem of the United States.Construction: The construction of the Francis Scott Key Bridge began in the mid-1970s as part of the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel Project, aimed at improving transportation infrastructure in the region. The bridge was designed to alleviate traffic congestion in the area and provide a vital link across the Patapsco River.Completion: The Key Bridge was completed in 1977, and since then, it has served as a crucial transportation artery in Baltimore, facilitating the movement of vehicles between various neighborhoods and communities on either side of the river.Features: The Francis Scott Key Bridge is a steel arch bridge with a total length of approximately 1.6 miles (2.6 kilometers). It provides multiple lanes for vehicular traffic, accommodating thousands of vehicles daily. The bridge offers picturesque views of the surrounding area, including the Baltimore skyline and the Patapsco River.Legacy: Beyond its practical function, the Key Bridge holds cultural and historical significance as a tribute to Francis Scott Key and as a symbol of Baltimore's infrastructure development. It has become an iconic landmark in the city, recognized for its distinctive design and role in connecting different parts of Baltimore.(commercial at 8:17)to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comsource:Baltimore bridge collapse live updates: Ship lost propulsion, warned of collision, officials say - ABC News (go.com)
A cargo ship has crashed into the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Maryland, destroying the bridge and dumping multiple cars and many people into the river. A gigantic search effort has now been launched as rescue crews attempt to rescue people from at least seven submerged vehicles. This is a developing story.A Summary of The Francis Scott Key Bridge: Name: Francis Scott Key BridgeLocation: Baltimore, Maryland, USASpan: The bridge spans the Patapsco River, connecting the neighborhoods of Federal Hill and Locust Point with the community of Butchers Hill.Significance: The Key Bridge is a significant landmark in Baltimore, named after Francis Scott Key, who wrote the lyrics to "The Star-Spangled Banner," the national anthem of the United States.Construction: The construction of the Francis Scott Key Bridge began in the mid-1970s as part of the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel Project, aimed at improving transportation infrastructure in the region. The bridge was designed to alleviate traffic congestion in the area and provide a vital link across the Patapsco River.Completion: The Key Bridge was completed in 1977, and since then, it has served as a crucial transportation artery in Baltimore, facilitating the movement of vehicles between various neighborhoods and communities on either side of the river.Features: The Francis Scott Key Bridge is a steel arch bridge with a total length of approximately 1.6 miles (2.6 kilometers). It provides multiple lanes for vehicular traffic, accommodating thousands of vehicles daily. The bridge offers picturesque views of the surrounding area, including the Baltimore skyline and the Patapsco River.Legacy: Beyond its practical function, the Key Bridge holds cultural and historical significance as a tribute to Francis Scott Key and as a symbol of Baltimore's infrastructure development. It has become an iconic landmark in the city, recognized for its distinctive design and role in connecting different parts of Baltimore.(commercial at 8:17)to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comsource:Baltimore bridge collapse live updates: Ship lost propulsion, warned of collision, officials say - ABC News (go.com)Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-epstein-chronicles--5003294/support.
This week on the show, we're dancing on the fringes of comedy, mixing laughter with precise cuts, all thanks to the unparalleled skill of Anthony Costa! As the mastermind behind the buzzing chairs at Skip's Barber Shop with locations in both South Boston and Providence, Anthony excels at crafting the ideal hairstyle and welcoming atmosphere. Join Chris, Jenna, and Anthony as they take a deep dive into the essence of Rhode Island, navigating the distinctive fusion of culture, history, and personal evolution that defines our local communities. Kicking off with a sincere introduction that lays the groundwork for a voyage through time and identity, this episode zeroes in on the remarkable saga of Skip's Barbershop. From the reverberations of Providence in the '90s to an intriguing shift from culinary arts to barbering, they're weaving a narrative filled with stories that illuminate the force of passion and underscore the value of inclusivity. Plus, they unravel the layers of Rhode Island's varied food scene and uncover the singular features that render Skip's Barbershop a cherished treasure in the Federal Hill neighborhood. Episode time stamps: [00:00] - Kicking off with an ode to Rhode Island, setting the scene for today's tales. [02:59] - Delving into the storied history of Skip's Barbershop and its roots in our community. [27:27] - A nostalgic trip through Providence in the 1990s, reflecting on the city's vibrant past. [46:01] - Sharing the intriguing journey from being a chef to becoming a barber and how those worlds intersect. [52:47] - Discussing how humor serves as a gateway to deeper, more meaningful conversations. [01:00:34] - Revealing the unique services and atmosphere that set Skip's Barbershop apart. [01:06:06] - Highlighting the barbershop's commitment to fostering an inclusive environment for all. [01:08:08] - A mouth-watering overview of Rhode Island's diverse food scene across its counties. Links & Resources: Stay connected on Instagram: @HeyRhody Jenna: @jennnaaakap Chris: @letschatrevill @letschatpodcasting Skip's Barber Shop @skipsbarbershop | Skipsbarbershop.com
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Join the conversation with C4 and Bryan Nehman. 3 juveniles caught in an attempted carjacking in Federal Hill. Donald Trump lacks collateral for bond in $464 million-dollar civil fraud case. Squeegee kids are now resorting to stealing money from cash app. Baltimore County Executive Johnny O joined the show to discuss a number of topics from budgets to car theft & more. Listen to C4 and Bryan Nehman live every weekday from 5:30-10:00 a.m. ET on WBAL News Radio 1090, FM101.5, and the WBAL Radio App!
Torrey spends much of the show discussing the implications of an attempted carjacking in Federal Hill. We look into the efforts to prevent these incidents and opportunities to address the root causes. We also discuss the merit of weight loss drugs and their broader impact on society. Finally, we examine the social impact of weight loss drugs.
Talking with Zac Blanchard, District 11 Council Member Candidate On this episode of the South Baltimore Now! Podcast, Kevin Lynch talks with Zac Blanchard, a candidate for the District 11 Council seat. Blanchard is a Federal Hill resident, a graduate of the Naval Academy, President of the Federal Hill Neighborhood Association, a board member of Federal Hill Main Street, and an assistant football coach at Digital Harbor High School. Kevin asks Zac about his background, what he loves about South Baltimore, and topics such as crime, small business, development, and the future of Digital Harbor High School. Incumbent Councilman Eric Costello, who is running for reelection, will be featured on an upcoming episode. The Primary is on May 14th. Register to vote here: https://elections.maryland.gov/voter_registration/
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The Haunter of the Dark By H. P. Lovecraft (Dedicated to Robert Bloch) I have seen the dark universe yawning Where the black planets roll without aim— Where they roll in their horror unheeded, Without knowledge or lustre or name. —Nemesis. Cautious investigators will hesitate to challenge the common belief that Robert Blake was killed by lightning, or by some profound nervous shock derived from an electrical discharge. It is true that the window he faced was unbroken, but Nature has shewn herself capable of many freakish performances. The expression on his face may easily have arisen from some obscure muscular source unrelated to anything he saw, while the entries in his diary are clearly the result of a fantastic imagination aroused by certain local superstitions and by certain old matters he had uncovered. As for the anomalous conditions at the deserted church on Federal Hill—the shrewd analyst is not slow in attributing them to some charlatanry, conscious or unconscious, with at least some of which Blake was secretly connected. For after all, the victim was a writer and painter wholly devoted to the field of myth, dream, terror, and superstition, and avid in his quest for scenes and effects of a bizarre, spectral sort. His earlier stay in the city—a visit to a strange old man as deeply given to occult and forbidden lore as he—had ended amidst death and flame, and it must have been some morbid instinct which drew him back from his home in Milwaukee. He may have known of the old stories despite his statements to the contrary in the diary, and his death may have nipped in the bud some stupendous hoax destined to have a literary reflection. Among those, however, who have examined and correlated all this evidence, there remain several who cling to less rational and commonplace theories. They are inclined to take much of Blake's diary at its face value, and point significantly to certain facts such as the undoubted genuineness of the old church record, the verified existence of the disliked and unorthodox Starry Wisdom sect prior to 1877, the recorded disappearance of an inquisitive reporter named Edwin M. Lillibridge in 1893, and—above all—the look of monstrous, transfiguring fear on the face of the young writer when he died. It was one of these believers who, moved to fanatical extremes, threw into the bay the curiously angled stone and its strangely adorned metal box found in the old church steeple—the black windowless steeple, and not the tower where Blake's diary said those things originally were. Though widely censured both officially and unofficially, this man—a reputable physician with a taste for odd folklore—averred that he had rid the earth of something too dangerous to rest upon it. Between these two schools of opinion the reader must judge for himself. The papers have given the tangible details from a sceptical angle, leaving for others the drawing of the picture as Robert Blake saw it—or thought he saw it—or pretended to see it. Now, studying the diary closely, dispassionately, and at leisure, let us summarise the dark chain of events from the expressed point of view of their chief actor. Young Blake returned to Providence in the winter of 1934–5, taking the upper floor of a venerable dwelling in a grassy court off College Street—on the crest of the great eastward hill near the Brown University campus and behind the marble John Hay Library. It was a cosy and fascinating place, in a little garden oasis of village-like antiquity where huge, friendly cats sunned themselves atop a convenient shed. The square Georgian house had a monitor roof, classic doorway with fan carving, small-paned windows, and all the other earmarks of early nineteenth-century workmanship. Inside were six-panelled doors, wide floor-boards, a curving colonial staircase, white Adam-period mantels, and a rear set of rooms three steps below the general level. Blake's study, a large southwest chamber, overlooked the front garden on one side, while its west windows—before one of which he had his desk—faced off from the brow of the hill and commanded a splendid view of the lower town's outspread roofs and of the mystical sunsets that flamed behind them. On the far horizon were the open countryside's purple slopes. Against these, some two miles away, rose the spectral hump of Federal Hill, bristling with huddled roofs and steeples whose remote outlines wavered mysteriously, taking fantastic forms as the smoke of the city swirled up and enmeshed them. Blake had a curious sense that he was looking upon some unknown, ethereal world which might or might not vanish in dream if ever he tried to seek it out and enter it in person. Having sent home for most of his books, Blake bought some antique furniture suitable to his quarters and settled down to write and paint—living alone, and attending to the simple housework himself. His studio was in a north attic room, where the panes of the monitor roof furnished admirable lighting. During that first winter he produced five of his best-known short stories—“The Burrower Beneath”, “The Stairs in the Crypt”, “Shaggai”, “In the Vale of Pnath”, and “The Feaster from the Stars”—and painted seven canvases; studies of nameless, unhuman monsters, and profoundly alien, non-terrestrial landscapes. At sunset he would often sit at his desk and gaze dreamily off at the outspread west—the dark towers of Memorial Hall just below, the Georgian court-house belfry, the lofty pinnacles of the downtown section, and that shimmering, spire-crowned mound in the distance whose unknown streets and labyrinthine gables so potently provoked his fancy. From his few local acquaintances he learned that the far-off slope was a vast Italian quarter, though most of the houses were remnants of older Yankee and Irish days. Now and then he would train his field-glasses on that spectral, unreachable world beyond the curling smoke; picking out individual roofs and chimneys and steeples, and speculating upon the bizarre and curious mysteries they might house. Even with optical aid Federal Hill seemed somehow alien, half fabulous, and linked to the unreal, intangible marvels of Blake's own tales and pictures. The feeling would persist long after the hill had faded into the violet, lamp-starred twilight, and the court-house floodlights and the red Industrial Trust beacon had blazed up to make the night grotesque. Of all the distant objects on Federal Hill, a certain huge, dark church most fascinated Blake. It stood out with especial distinctness at certain hours of the day, and at sunset the great tower and tapering steeple loomed blackly against the flaming sky. It seemed to rest on especially high ground; for the grimy facade, and the obliquely seen north side with sloping roof and the tops of great pointed windows, rose boldly above the tangle of surrounding ridgepoles and chimney-pots. Peculiarly grim and austere, it appeared to be built of stone, stained and weathered with the smoke and storms of a century and more. The style, so far as the glass could shew, was that earliest experimental form of Gothic revival which preceded the stately Upjohn period and held over some of the outlines and proportions of the Georgian age. Perhaps it was reared around 1810 or 1815. As months passed, Blake watched the far-off, forbidding structure with an oddly mounting interest. Since the vast windows were never lighted, he knew that it must be vacant. The longer he watched, the more his imagination worked, till at length he began to fancy curious things. He believed that a vague, singular aura of desolation hovered over the place, so that even the pigeons and swallows shunned its smoky eaves. Around other towers and belfries his glass would reveal great flocks of birds, but here they never rested. At least, that is what he thought and set down in his diary. He pointed the place out to several friends, but none of them had even been on Federal Hill or possessed the faintest notion of what the church was or had been. In the spring a deep restlessness gripped Blake. He had begun his long-planned novel—based on a supposed survival of the witch-cult in Maine—but was strangely unable to make progress with it. More and more he would sit at his westward window and gaze at the distant hill and the black, frowning steeple shunned by the birds. When the delicate leaves came out on the garden boughs the world was filled with a new beauty, but Blake's restlessness was merely increased. It was then that he first thought of crossing the city and climbing bodily up that fabulous slope into the smoke-wreathed world of dream. Late in April, just before the aeon-shadowed Walpurgis time, Blake made his first trip into the unknown. Plodding through the endless downtown streets and the bleak, decayed squares beyond, he came finally upon the ascending avenue of century-worn steps, sagging Doric porches, and blear-paned cupolas which he felt must lead up to the long-known, unreachable world beyond the mists. There were dingy blue-and-white street signs which meant nothing to him, and presently he noted the strange, dark faces of the drifting crowds, and the foreign signs over curious shops in brown, decade-weathered buildings. Nowhere could he find any of the objects he had seen from afar; so that once more he half fancied that the Federal Hill of that distant view was a dream-world never to be trod by living human feet. Now and then a battered church facade or crumbling spire came in sight, but never the blackened pile that he sought. When he asked a shopkeeper about a great stone church the man smiled and shook his head, though he spoke English freely. As Blake climbed higher, the region seemed stranger and stranger, with bewildering mazes of brooding brown alleys leading eternally off to the south. He crossed two or three broad avenues, and once thought he glimpsed a familiar tower. Again he asked a merchant about the massive church of stone, and this time he could have sworn that the plea of ignorance was feigned. The dark man's face had a look of fear which he tried to hide, and Blake saw him make a curious sign with his right hand. Then suddenly a black spire stood out against the cloudy sky on his left, above the tiers of brown roofs lining the tangled southerly alleys. Blake knew at once what it was, and plunged toward it through the squalid, unpaved lanes that climbed from the avenue. Twice he lost his way, but he somehow dared not ask any of the patriarchs or housewives who sat on their doorsteps, or any of the children who shouted and played in the mud of the shadowy lanes. At last he saw the tower plain against the southwest, and a huge stone bulk rose darkly at the end of an alley. Presently he stood in a windswept open square, quaintly cobblestoned, with a high bank wall on the farther side. This was the end of his quest; for upon the wide, iron-railed, weed-grown plateau which the wall supported—a separate, lesser world raised fully six feet above the surrounding streets—there stood a grim, titan bulk whose identity, despite Blake's new perspective, was beyond dispute. The vacant church was in a state of great decrepitude. Some of the high stone buttresses had fallen, and several delicate finials lay half lost among the brown, neglected weeds and grasses. The sooty Gothic windows were largely unbroken, though many of the stone mullions were missing. Blake wondered how the obscurely painted panes could have survived so well, in view of the known habits of small boys the world over. The massive doors were intact and tightly closed. Around the top of the bank wall, fully enclosing the grounds, was a rusty iron fence whose gate—at the head of a flight of steps from the square—was visibly padlocked. The path from the gate to the building was completely overgrown. Desolation and decay hung like a pall above the place, and in the birdless eaves and black, ivyless walls Blake felt a touch of the dimly sinister beyond his power to define. There were very few people in the square, but Blake saw a policeman at the northerly end and approached him with questions about the church. He was a great wholesome Irishman, and it seemed odd that he would do little more than make the sign of the cross and mutter that people never spoke of that building. When Blake pressed him he said very hurriedly that the Italian priests warned everybody against it, vowing that a monstrous evil had once dwelt there and left its mark. He himself had heard dark whispers of it from his father, who recalled certain sounds and rumours from his boyhood. There had been a bad sect there in the ould days—an outlaw sect that called up awful things from some unknown gulf of night. It had taken a good priest to exorcise what had come, though there did be those who said that merely the light could do it. If Father O'Malley were alive there would be many the thing he could tell. But now there was nothing to do but let it alone. It hurt nobody now, and those that owned it were dead or far away. They had run away like rats after the threatening talk in '77, when people began to mind the way folks vanished now and then in the neighbourhood. Some day the city would step in and take the property for lack of heirs, but little good would come of anybody's touching it. Better it be left alone for the years to topple, lest things be stirred that ought to rest forever in their black abyss. After the policeman had gone Blake stood staring at the sullen steepled pile. It excited him to find that the structure seemed as sinister to others as to him, and he wondered what grain of truth might lie behind the old tales the bluecoat had repeated. Probably they were mere legends evoked by the evil look of the place, but even so, they were like a strange coming to life of one of his own stories. The afternoon sun came out from behind dispersing clouds, but seemed unable to light up the stained, sooty walls of the old temple that towered on its high plateau. It was odd that the green of spring had not touched the brown, withered growths in the raised, iron-fenced yard. Blake found himself edging nearer the raised area and examining the bank wall and rusted fence for possible avenues of ingress. There was a terrible lure about the blackened fane which was not to be resisted. The fence had no opening near the steps, but around on the north side were some missing bars. He could go up the steps and walk around on the narrow coping outside the fence till he came to the gap. If the people feared the place so wildly, he would encounter no interference. He was on the embankment and almost inside the fence before anyone noticed him. Then, looking down, he saw the few people in the square edging away and making the same sign with their right hands that the shopkeeper in the avenue had made. Several windows were slammed down, and a fat woman darted into the street and pulled some small children inside a rickety, unpainted house. The gap in the fence was very easy to pass through, and before long Blake found himself wading amidst the rotting, tangled growths of the deserted yard. Here and there the worn stump of a headstone told him that there had once been burials in this field; but that, he saw, must have been very long ago. The sheer bulk of the church was oppressive now that he was close to it, but he conquered his mood and approached to try the three great doors in the facade. All were securely locked, so he began a circuit of the Cyclopean building in quest of some minor and more penetrable opening. Even then he could not be sure that he wished to enter that haunt of desertion and shadow, yet the pull of its strangeness dragged him on automatically. A yawning and unprotected cellar window in the rear furnished the needed aperture. Peering in, Blake saw a subterrene gulf of cobwebs and dust faintly litten by the western sun's filtered rays. Debris, old barrels, and ruined boxes and furniture of numerous sorts met his eye, though over everything lay a shroud of dust which softened all sharp outlines. The rusted remains of a hot-air furnace shewed that the building had been used and kept in shape as late as mid-Victorian times. Acting almost without conscious initiative, Blake crawled through the window and let himself down to the dust-carpeted and debris-strown concrete floor. The vaulted cellar was a vast one, without partitions; and in a corner far to the right, amid dense shadows, he saw a black archway evidently leading upstairs. He felt a peculiar sense of oppression at being actually within the great spectral building, but kept it in check as he cautiously scouted about—finding a still-intact barrel amid the dust, and rolling it over to the open window to provide for his exit. Then, bracing himself, he crossed the wide, cobweb-festooned space toward the arch. Half choked with the omnipresent dust, and covered with ghostly gossamer fibres, he reached and began to climb the worn stone steps which rose into the darkness. He had no light, but groped carefully with his hands. After a sharp turn he felt a closed door ahead, and a little fumbling revealed its ancient latch. It opened inward, and beyond it he saw a dimly illumined corridor lined with worm-eaten panelling. Once on the ground floor, Blake began exploring in a rapid fashion. All the inner doors were unlocked, so that he freely passed from room to room. The colossal nave was an almost eldritch place with its drifts and mountains of dust over box pews, altar, hourglass pulpit, and sounding-board, and its titanic ropes of cobweb stretching among the pointed arches of the gallery and entwining the clustered Gothic columns. Over all this hushed desolation played a hideous leaden light as the declining afternoon sun sent its rays through the strange, half-blackened panes of the great apsidal windows. The paintings on those windows were so obscured by soot that Blake could scarcely decipher what they had represented, but from the little he could make out he did not like them. The designs were largely conventional, and his knowledge of obscure symbolism told him much concerning some of the ancient patterns. The few saints depicted bore expressions distinctly open to criticism, while one of the windows seemed to shew merely a dark space with spirals of curious luminosity scattered about in it. Turning away from the windows, Blake noticed that the cobwebbed cross above the altar was not of the ordinary kind, but resembled the primordial ankh or crux ansata of shadowy Egypt. In a rear vestry room beside the apse Blake found a rotting desk and ceiling-high shelves of mildewed, disintegrating books. Here for the first time he received a positive shock of objective horror, for the titles of those books told him much. They were the black, forbidden things which most sane people have never even heard of, or have heard of only in furtive, timorous whispers; the banned and dreaded repositories of equivocal secrets and immemorial formulae which have trickled down the stream of time from the days of man's youth, and the dim, fabulous days before man was. He had himself read many of them—a Latin version of the abhorred Necronomicon, the sinister Liber Ivonis, the infamous Cultes des Goules of Comte d'Erlette, the Unaussprechlichen Kulten of von Junzt, and old Ludvig Prinn's hellish De Vermis Mysteriis. But there were others he had known merely by reputation or not at all—the Pnakotic Manuscripts, the Book of Dzyan, and a crumbling volume in wholly unidentifiable characters yet with certain symbols and diagrams shudderingly recognisable to the occult student. Clearly, the lingering local rumours had not lied. This place had once been the seat of an evil older than mankind and wider than the known universe. In the ruined desk was a small leather-bound record-book filled with entries in some odd cryptographic medium. The manuscript writing consisted of the common traditional symbols used today in astronomy and anciently in alchemy, astrology, and other dubious arts—the devices of the sun, moon, planets, aspects, and zodiacal signs—here massed in solid pages of text, with divisions and paragraphings suggesting that each symbol answered to some alphabetical letter. In the hope of later solving the cryptogram, Blake bore off this volume in his coat pocket. Many of the great tomes on the shelves fascinated him unutterably, and he felt tempted to borrow them at some later time. He wondered how they could have remained undisturbed so long. Was he the first to conquer the clutching, pervasive fear which had for nearly sixty years protected this deserted place from visitors? Having now thoroughly explored the ground floor, Blake ploughed again through the dust of the spectral nave to the front vestibule, where he had seen a door and staircase presumably leading up to the blackened tower and steeple—objects so long familiar to him at a distance. The ascent was a choking experience, for dust lay thick, while the spiders had done their worst in this constricted place. The staircase was a spiral with high, narrow wooden treads, and now and then Blake passed a clouded window looking dizzily out over the city. Though he had seen no ropes below, he expected to find a bell or peal of bells in the tower whose narrow, louver-boarded lancet windows his field-glass had studied so often. Here he was doomed to disappointment; for when he attained the top of the stairs he found the tower chamber vacant of chimes, and clearly devoted to vastly different purposes. The room, about fifteen feet square, was faintly lighted by four lancet windows, one on each side, which were glazed within their screening of decayed louver-boards. These had been further fitted with tight, opaque screens, but the latter were now largely rotted away. In the centre of the dust-laden floor rose a curiously angled stone pillar some four feet in height and two in average diameter, covered on each side with bizarre, crudely incised, and wholly unrecognisable hieroglyphs. On this pillar rested a metal box of peculiarly asymmetrical form; its hinged lid thrown back, and its interior holding what looked beneath the decade-deep dust to be an egg-shaped or irregularly spherical object some four inches through. Around the pillar in a rough circle were seven high-backed Gothic chairs still largely intact, while behind them, ranging along the dark-panelled walls, were seven colossal images of crumbling, black-painted plaster, resembling more than anything else the cryptic carven megaliths of mysterious Easter Island. In one corner of the cobwebbed chamber a ladder was built into the wall, leading up to the closed trap-door of the windowless steeple above. As Blake grew accustomed to the feeble light he noticed odd bas-reliefs on the strange open box of yellowish metal. Approaching, he tried to clear the dust away with his hands and handkerchief, and saw that the figurings were of a monstrous and utterly alien kind; depicting entities which, though seemingly alive, resembled no known life-form ever evolved on this planet. The four-inch seeming sphere turned out to be a nearly black, red-striated polyhedron with many irregular flat surfaces; either a very remarkable crystal of some sort, or an artificial object of carved and highly polished mineral matter. It did not touch the bottom of the box, but was held suspended by means of a metal band around its centre, with seven queerly designed supports extending horizontally to angles of the box's inner wall near the top. This stone, once exposed, exerted upon Blake an almost alarming fascination. He could scarcely tear his eyes from it, and as he looked at its glistening surfaces he almost fancied it was transparent, with half-formed worlds of wonder within. Into his mind floated pictures of alien orbs with great stone towers, and other orbs with titan mountains and no mark of life, and still remoter spaces where only a stirring in vague blacknesses told of the presence of consciousness and will. When he did look away, it was to notice a somewhat singular mound of dust in the far corner near the ladder to the steeple. Just why it took his attention he could not tell, but something in its contours carried a message to his unconscious mind. Ploughing toward it, and brushing aside the hanging cobwebs as he went, he began to discern something grim about it. Hand and handkerchief soon revealed the truth, and Blake gasped with a baffling mixture of emotions. It was a human skeleton, and it must have been there for a very long time. The clothing was in shreds, but some buttons and fragments of cloth bespoke a man's grey suit. There were other bits of evidence—shoes, metal clasps, huge buttons for round cuffs, a stickpin of bygone pattern, a reporter's badge with the name of the old Providence Telegram, and a crumbling leather pocketbook. Blake examined the latter with care, finding within it several bills of antiquated issue, a celluloid advertising calendar for 1893, some cards with the name “Edwin M. Lillibridge”, and a paper covered with pencilled memoranda. This paper held much of a puzzling nature, and Blake read it carefully at the dim westward window. Its disjointed text included such phrases as the following: “Prof. Enoch Bowen home from Egypt May 1844—buys old Free-Will Church in July—his archaeological work & studies in occult well known.” “Dr. Drowne of 4th Baptist warns against Starry Wisdom in sermon Dec. 29, 1844.” “Congregation 97 by end of '45.” “1846—3 disappearances—first mention of Shining Trapezohedron.” “7 disappearances 1848—stories of blood sacrifice begin.” “Investigation 1853 comes to nothing—stories of sounds.” “Fr. O'Malley tells of devil-worship with box found in great Egyptian ruins—says they call up something that can't exist in light. Flees a little light, and banished by strong light. Then has to be summoned again. Probably got this from deathbed confession of Francis X. Feeney, who had joined Starry Wisdom in '49. These people say the Shining Trapezohedron shews them heaven & other worlds, & that the Haunter of the Dark tells them secrets in some way.” “Story of Orrin B. Eddy 1857. They call it up by gazing at the crystal, & have a secret language of their own.” “200 or more in cong. 1863, exclusive of men at front.” “Irish boys mob church in 1869 after Patrick Regan's disappearance.” “Veiled article in J. March 14, '72, but people don't talk about it.” “6 disappearances 1876—secret committee calls on Mayor Doyle.” “Action promised Feb. 1877—church closes in April.” “Gang—Federal Hill Boys—threaten Dr. —— and vestrymen in May.” “181 persons leave city before end of '77—mention no names.” “Ghost stories begin around 1880—try to ascertain truth of report that no human being has entered church since 1877.” “Ask Lanigan for photograph of place taken 1851.” . . . Restoring the paper to the pocketbook and placing the latter in his coat, Blake turned to look down at the skeleton in the dust. The implications of the notes were clear, and there could be no doubt but that this man had come to the deserted edifice forty-two years before in quest of a newspaper sensation which no one else had been bold enough to attempt. Perhaps no one else had known of his plan—who could tell? But he had never returned to his paper. Had some bravely suppressed fear risen to overcome him and bring on sudden heart-failure? Blake stooped over the gleaming bones and noted their peculiar state. Some of them were badly scattered, and a few seemed oddly dissolved at the ends. Others were strangely yellowed, with vague suggestions of charring. This charring extended to some of the fragments of clothing. The skull was in a very peculiar state—stained yellow, and with a charred aperture in the top as if some powerful acid had eaten through the solid bone. What had happened to the skeleton during its four decades of silent entombment here Blake could not imagine. Before he realised it, he was looking at the stone again, and letting its curious influence call up a nebulous pageantry in his mind. He saw processions of robed, hooded figures whose outlines were not human, and looked on endless leagues of desert lined with carved, sky-reaching monoliths. He saw towers and walls in nighted depths under the sea, and vortices of space where wisps of black mist floated before thin shimmerings of cold purple haze. And beyond all else he glimpsed an infinite gulf of darkness, where solid and semi-solid forms were known only by their windy stirrings, and cloudy patterns of force seemed to superimpose order on chaos and hold forth a key to all the paradoxes and arcana of the worlds we know. Then all at once the spell was broken by an access of gnawing, indeterminate panic fear. Blake choked and turned away from the stone, conscious of some formless alien presence close to him and watching him with horrible intentness. He felt entangled with something—something which was not in the stone, but which had looked through it at him—something which would ceaselessly follow him with a cognition that was not physical sight. Plainly, the place was getting on his nerves—as well it might in view of his gruesome find. The light was waning, too, and since he had no illuminant with him he knew he would have to be leaving soon. It was then, in the gathering twilight, that he thought he saw a faint trace of luminosity in the crazily angled stone. He had tried to look away from it, but some obscure compulsion drew his eyes back. Was there a subtle phosphorescence of radio-activity about the thing? What was it that the dead man's notes had said concerning a Shining Trapezohedron? What, anyway, was this abandoned lair of cosmic evil? What had been done here, and what might still be lurking in the bird-shunned shadows? It seemed now as if an elusive touch of foetor had arisen somewhere close by, though its source was not apparent. Blake seized the cover of the long-open box and snapped it down. It moved easily on its alien hinges, and closed completely over the unmistakably glowing stone. At the sharp click of that closing a soft stirring sound seemed to come from the steeple's eternal blackness overhead, beyond the trap-door. Rats, without question—the only living things to reveal their presence in this accursed pile since he had entered it. And yet that stirring in the steeple frightened him horribly, so that he plunged almost wildly down the spiral stairs, across the ghoulish nave, into the vaulted basement, out amidst the gathering dusk of the deserted square, and down through the teeming, fear-haunted alleys and avenues of Federal Hill toward the sane central streets and the home-like brick sidewalks of the college district. During the days which followed, Blake told no one of his expedition. Instead, he read much in certain books, examined long years of newspaper files downtown, and worked feverishly at the cryptogram in that leather volume from the cobwebbed vestry room. The cipher, he soon saw, was no simple one; and after a long period of endeavour he felt sure that its language could not be English, Latin, Greek, French, Spanish, Italian, or German. Evidently he would have to draw upon the deepest wells of his strange erudition. Every evening the old impulse to gaze westward returned, and he saw the black steeple as of yore amongst the bristling roofs of a distant and half-fabulous world. But now it held a fresh note of terror for him. He knew the heritage of evil lore it masked, and with the knowledge his vision ran riot in queer new ways. The birds of spring were returning, and as he watched their sunset flights he fancied they avoided the gaunt, lone spire as never before. When a flock of them approached it, he thought, they would wheel and scatter in panic confusion—and he could guess at the wild twitterings which failed to reach him across the intervening miles. It was in June that Blake's diary told of his victory over the cryptogram. The text was, he found, in the dark Aklo language used by certain cults of evil antiquity, and known to him in a halting way through previous researches. The diary is strangely reticent about what Blake deciphered, but he was patently awed and disconcerted by his results. There are references to a Haunter of the Dark awaked by gazing into the Shining Trapezohedron, and insane conjectures about the black gulfs of chaos from which it was called. The being is spoken of as holding all knowledge, and demanding monstrous sacrifices. Some of Blake's entries shew fear lest the thing, which he seemed to regard as summoned, stalk abroad; though he adds that the street-lights form a bulwark which cannot be crossed. Of the Shining Trapezohedron he speaks often, calling it a window on all time and space, and tracing its history from the days it was fashioned on dark Yuggoth, before ever the Old Ones brought it to earth. It was treasured and placed in its curious box by the crinoid things of Antarctica, salvaged from their ruins by the serpent-men of Valusia, and peered at aeons later in Lemuria by the first human beings. It crossed strange lands and stranger seas, and sank with Atlantis before a Minoan fisher meshed it in his net and sold it to swarthy merchants from nighted Khem. The Pharaoh Nephren-Ka built around it a temple with a windowless crypt, and did that which caused his name to be stricken from all monuments and records. Then it slept in the ruins of that evil fane which the priests and the new Pharaoh destroyed, till the delver's spade once more brought it forth to curse mankind. Early in July the newspapers oddly supplement Blake's entries, though in so brief and casual a way that only the diary has called general attention to their contribution. It appears that a new fear had been growing on Federal Hill since a stranger had entered the dreaded church. The Italians whispered of unaccustomed stirrings and bumpings and scrapings in the dark windowless steeple, and called on their priests to banish an entity which haunted their dreams. Something, they said, was constantly watching at a door to see if it were dark enough to venture forth. Press items mentioned the long-standing local superstitions, but failed to shed much light on the earlier background of the horror. It was obvious that the young reporters of today are no antiquarians. In writing of these things in his diary, Blake expresses a curious kind of remorse, and talks of the duty of burying the Shining Trapezohedron and of banishing what he had evoked by letting daylight into the hideous jutting spire. At the same time, however, he displays the dangerous extent of his fascination, and admits a morbid longing—pervading even his dreams—to visit the accursed tower and gaze again into the cosmic secrets of the glowing stone. Then something in the Journal on the morning of July 17 threw the diarist into a veritable fever of horror. It was only a variant of the other half-humorous items about the Federal Hill restlessness, but to Blake it was somehow very terrible indeed. In the night a thunderstorm had put the city's lighting-system out of commission for a full hour, and in that black interval the Italians had nearly gone mad with fright. Those living near the dreaded church had sworn that the thing in the steeple had taken advantage of the street-lamps' absence and gone down into the body of the church, flopping and bumping around in a viscous, altogether dreadful way. Toward the last it had bumped up to the tower, where there were sounds of the shattering of glass. It could go wherever the darkness reached, but light would always send it fleeing. When the current blazed on again there had been a shocking commotion in the tower, for even the feeble light trickling through the grime-blackened, louver-boarded windows was too much for the thing. It had bumped and slithered up into its tenebrous steeple just in time—for a long dose of light would have sent it back into the abyss whence the crazy stranger had called it. During the dark hour praying crowds had clustered round the church in the rain with lighted candles and lamps somehow shielded with folded paper and umbrellas—a guard of light to save the city from the nightmare that stalks in darkness. Once, those nearest the church declared, the outer door had rattled hideously. But even this was not the worst. That evening in the Bulletin Blake read of what the reporters had found. Aroused at last to the whimsical news value of the scare, a pair of them had defied the frantic crowds of Italians and crawled into the church through the cellar window after trying the doors in vain. They found the dust of the vestibule and of the spectral nave ploughed up in a singular way, with bits of rotted cushions and satin pew-linings scattered curiously around. There was a bad odour everywhere, and here and there were bits of yellow stain and patches of what looked like charring. Opening the door to the tower, and pausing a moment at the suspicion of a scraping sound above, they found the narrow spiral stairs wiped roughly clean. In the tower itself a similarly half-swept condition existed. They spoke of the heptagonal stone pillar, the overturned Gothic chairs, and the bizarre plaster images; though strangely enough the metal box and the old mutilated skeleton were not mentioned. What disturbed Blake the most—except for the hints of stains and charring and bad odours—was the final detail that explained the crashing glass. Every one of the tower's lancet windows was broken, and two of them had been darkened in a crude and hurried way by the stuffing of satin pew-linings and cushion-horsehair into the spaces between the slanting exterior louver-boards. More satin fragments and bunches of horsehair lay scattered around the newly swept floor, as if someone had been interrupted in the act of restoring the tower to the absolute blackness of its tightly curtained days. Yellowish stains and charred patches were found on the ladder to the windowless spire, but when a reporter climbed up, opened the horizontally sliding trap-door, and shot a feeble flashlight beam into the black and strangely foetid space, he saw nothing but darkness, and an heterogeneous litter of shapeless fragments near the aperture. The verdict, of course, was charlatanry. Somebody had played a joke on the superstitious hill-dwellers, or else some fanatic had striven to bolster up their fears for their own supposed good. Or perhaps some of the younger and more sophisticated dwellers had staged an elaborate hoax on the outside world. There was an amusing aftermath when the police sent an officer to verify the reports. Three men in succession found ways of evading the assignment, and the fourth went very reluctantly and returned very soon without adding to the account given by the reporters. From this point onward Blake's diary shews a mounting tide of insidious horror and nervous apprehension. He upbraids himself for not doing something, and speculates wildly on the consequences of another electrical breakdown. It has been verified that on three occasions—during thunderstorms—he telephoned the electric light company in a frantic vein and asked that desperate precautions against a lapse of power be taken. Now and then his entries shew concern over the failure of the reporters to find the metal box and stone, and the strangely marred old skeleton, when they explored the shadowy tower room. He assumed that these things had been removed—whither, and by whom or what, he could only guess. But his worst fears concerned himself, and the kind of unholy rapport he felt to exist between his mind and that lurking horror in the distant steeple—that monstrous thing of night which his rashness had called out of the ultimate black spaces. He seemed to feel a constant tugging at his will, and callers of that period remember how he would sit abstractedly at his desk and stare out of the west window at that far-off, spire-bristling mound beyond the swirling smoke of the city. His entries dwell monotonously on certain terrible dreams, and of a strengthening of the unholy rapport in his sleep. There is mention of a night when he awaked to find himself fully dressed, outdoors, and headed automatically down College Hill toward the west. Again and again he dwells on the fact that the thing in the steeple knows where to find him. The week following July 30 is recalled as the time of Blake's partial breakdown. He did not dress, and ordered all his food by telephone. Visitors remarked the cords he kept near his bed, and he said that sleep-walking had forced him to bind his ankles every night with knots which would probably hold or else waken him with the labour of untying. In his diary he told of the hideous experience which had brought the collapse. After retiring on the night of the 30th he had suddenly found himself groping about in an almost black space. All he could see were short, faint, horizontal streaks of bluish light, but he could smell an overpowering foetor and hear a curious jumble of soft, furtive sounds above him. Whenever he moved he stumbled over something, and at each noise there would come a sort of answering sound from above—a vague stirring, mixed with the cautious sliding of wood on wood. Once his groping hands encountered a pillar of stone with a vacant top, whilst later he found himself clutching the rungs of a ladder built into the wall, and fumbling his uncertain way upward toward some region of intenser stench where a hot, searing blast beat down against him. Before his eyes a kaleidoscopic range of phantasmal images played, all of them dissolving at intervals into the picture of a vast, unplumbed abyss of night wherein whirled suns and worlds of an even profounder blackness. He thought of the ancient legends of Ultimate Chaos, at whose centre sprawls the blind idiot god Azathoth, Lord of All Things, encircled by his flopping horde of mindless and amorphous dancers, and lulled by the thin monotonous piping of a daemoniac flute held in nameless paws. Then a sharp report from the outer world broke through his stupor and roused him to the unutterable horror of his position. What it was, he never knew—perhaps it was some belated peal from the fireworks heard all summer on Federal Hill as the dwellers hail their various patron saints, or the saints of their native villages in Italy. In any event he shrieked aloud, dropped frantically from the ladder, and stumbled blindly across the obstructed floor of the almost lightless chamber that encompassed him. He knew instantly where he was, and plunged recklessly down the narrow spiral staircase, tripping and bruising himself at every turn. There was a nightmare flight through a vast cobwebbed nave whose ghostly arches reached up to realms of leering shadow, a sightless scramble through a littered basement, a climb to regions of air and street-lights outside, and a mad racing down a spectral hill of gibbering gables, across a grim, silent city of tall black towers, and up the steep eastward precipice to his own ancient door. On regaining consciousness in the morning he found himself lying on his study floor fully dressed. Dirt and cobwebs covered him, and every inch of his body seemed sore and bruised. When he faced the mirror he saw that his hair was badly scorched, while a trace of strange, evil odour seemed to cling to his upper outer clothing. It was then that his nerves broke down. Thereafter, lounging exhaustedly about in a dressing-gown, he did little but stare from his west window, shiver at the threat of thunder, and make wild entries in his diary. The great storm broke just before midnight on August 8th. Lightning struck repeatedly in all parts of the city, and two remarkable fireballs were reported. The rain was torrential, while a constant fusillade of thunder brought sleeplessness to thousands. Blake was utterly frantic in his fear for the lighting system, and tried to telephone the company around 1 a.m., though by that time service had been temporarily cut off in the interest of safety. He recorded everything in his diary—the large, nervous, and often undecipherable hieroglyphs telling their own story of growing frenzy and despair, and of entries scrawled blindly in the dark. He had to keep the house dark in order to see out the window, and it appears that most of his time was spent at his desk, peering anxiously through the rain across the glistening miles of downtown roofs at the constellation of distant lights marking Federal Hill. Now and then he would fumblingly make an entry in his diary, so that detached phrases such as “The lights must not go”; “It knows where I am”; “I must destroy it”; and “It is calling to me, but perhaps it means no injury this time”; are found scattered down two of the pages. Then the lights went out all over the city. It happened at 2:12 a.m. according to power-house records, but Blake's diary gives no indication of the time. The entry is merely, “Lights out—God help me.” On Federal Hill there were watchers as anxious as he, and rain-soaked knots of men paraded the square and alleys around the evil church with umbrella-shaded candles, electric flashlights, oil lanterns, crucifixes, and obscure charms of the many sorts common to southern Italy. They blessed each flash of lightning, and made cryptical signs of fear with their right hands when a turn in the storm caused the flashes to lessen and finally to cease altogether. A rising wind blew out most of the candles, so that the scene grew threateningly dark. Someone roused Father Merluzzo of Spirito Santo Church, and he hastened to the dismal square to pronounce whatever helpful syllables he could. Of the restless and curious sounds in the blackened tower, there could be no doubt whatever. For what happened at 2:35 we have the testimony of the priest, a young, intelligent, and well-educated person; of Patrolman William J. Monahan of the Central Station, an officer of the highest reliability who had paused at that part of his beat to inspect the crowd; and of most of the seventy-eight men who had gathered around the church's high bank wall—especially those in the square where the eastward facade was visible. Of course there was nothing which can be proved as being outside the order of Nature. The possible causes of such an event are many. No one can speak with certainty of the obscure chemical processes arising in a vast, ancient, ill-aired, and long-deserted building of heterogeneous contents. Mephitic vapours—spontaneous combustion—pressure of gases born of long decay—any one of numberless phenomena might be responsible. And then, of course, the factor of conscious charlatanry can by no means be excluded. The thing was really quite simple in itself, and covered less than three minutes of actual time. Father Merluzzo, always a precise man, looked at his watch repeatedly. It started with a definite swelling of the dull fumbling sounds inside the black tower. There had for some time been a vague exhalation of strange, evil odours from the church, and this had now become emphatic and offensive. Then at last there was a sound of splintering wood, and a large, heavy object crashed down in the yard beneath the frowning easterly facade. The tower was invisible now that the candles would not burn, but as the object neared the ground the people knew that it was the smoke-grimed louver-boarding of that tower's east window. Immediately afterward an utterly unbearable foetor welled forth from the unseen heights, choking and sickening the trembling watchers, and almost prostrating those in the square. At the same time the air trembled with a vibration as of flapping wings, and a sudden east-blowing wind more violent than any previous blast snatched off the hats and wrenched the dripping umbrellas of the crowd. Nothing definite could be seen in the candleless night, though some upward-looking spectators thought they glimpsed a great spreading blur of denser blackness against the inky sky—something like a formless cloud of smoke that shot with meteor-like speed toward the east. That was all. The watchers were half numbed with fright, awe, and discomfort, and scarcely knew what to do, or whether to do anything at all. Not knowing what had happened, they did not relax their vigil; and a moment later they sent up a prayer as a sharp flash of belated lightning, followed by an earsplitting crash of sound, rent the flooded heavens. Half an hour later the rain stopped, and in fifteen minutes more the street-lights sprang on again, sending the weary, bedraggled watchers relievedly back to their homes. The next day's papers gave these matters minor mention in connexion with the general storm reports. It seems that the great lightning flash and deafening explosion which followed the Federal Hill occurrence were even more tremendous farther east, where a burst of the singular foetor was likewise noticed. The phenomenon was most marked over College Hill, where the crash awaked all the sleeping inhabitants and led to a bewildered round of speculations. Of those who were already awake only a few saw the anomalous blaze of light near the top of the hill, or noticed the inexplicable upward rush of air which almost stripped the leaves from the trees and blasted the plants in the gardens. It was agreed that the lone, sudden lightning-bolt must have struck somewhere in this neighbourhood, though no trace of its striking could afterward be found. A youth in the Tau Omega fraternity house thought he saw a grotesque and hideous mass of smoke in the air just as the preliminary flash burst, but his observation has not been verified. All of the few observers, however, agree as to the violent gust from the west and the flood of intolerable stench which preceded the belated stroke; whilst evidence concerning the momentary burned odour after the stroke is equally general. These points were discussed very carefully because of their probable connexion with the death of Robert Blake. Students in the Psi Delta house, whose upper rear windows looked into Blake's study, noticed the blurred white face at the westward window on the morning of the 9th, and wondered what was wrong with the expression. When they saw the same face in the same position that evening, they felt worried, and watched for the lights to come up in his apartment. Later they rang the bell of the darkened flat, and finally had a policeman force the door. The rigid body sat bolt upright at the desk by the window, and when the intruders saw the glassy, bulging eyes, and the marks of stark, convulsive fright on the twisted features, they turned away in sickened dismay. Shortly afterward the coroner's physician made an examination, and despite the unbroken window reported electrical shock, or nervous tension induced by electrical discharge, as the cause of death. The hideous expression he ignored altogether, deeming it a not improbable result of the profound shock as experienced by a person of such abnormal imagination and unbalanced emotions. He deduced these latter qualities from the books, paintings, and manuscripts found in the apartment, and from the blindly scrawled entries in the diary on the desk. Blake had prolonged his frenzied jottings to the last, and the broken-pointed pencil was found clutched in his spasmodically contracted right hand. The entries after the failure of the lights were highly disjointed, and legible only in part. From them certain investigators have drawn conclusions differing greatly from the materialistic official verdict, but such speculations have little chance for belief among the conservative. The case of these imaginative theorists has not been helped by the action of superstitious Dr. Dexter, who threw the curious box and angled stone—an object certainly self-luminous as seen in the black windowless steeple where it was found—into the deepest channel of Narragansett Bay. Excessive imagination and neurotic unbalance on Blake's part, aggravated by knowledge of the evil bygone cult whose startling traces he had uncovered, form the dominant interpretation given those final frenzied jottings. These are the entries—or all that can be made of them. “Lights still out—must be five minutes now. Everything depends on lightning. Yaddith grant it will keep up! . . . Some influence seems beating through it. . . . Rain and thunder and wind deafen. . . . The thing is taking hold of my mind. . . . “Trouble with memory. I see things I never knew before. Other worlds and other galaxies . . . Dark . . . The lightning seems dark and the darkness seems light. . . . “It cannot be the real hill and church that I see in the pitch-darkness. Must be retinal impression left by flashes. Heaven grant the Italians are out with their candles if the lightning stops! “What am I afraid of? Is it not an avatar of Nyarlathotep, who in antique and shadowy Khem even took the form of man? I remember Yuggoth, and more distant Shaggai, and the ultimate void of the black planets. . . . “The long, winging flight through the void . . . cannot cross the universe of light . . . re-created by the thoughts caught in the Shining Trapezohedron . . . send it through the horrible abysses of radiance. . . . “My name is Blake—Robert Harrison Blake of 620 East Knapp Street, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. . . . I am on this planet. . . . “Azathoth have mercy!—the lightning no longer flashes—horrible—I can see everything with a monstrous sense that is not sight—light is dark and dark is light . . . those people on the hill . . . guard . . . candles and charms . . . their priests. . . . “Sense of distance gone—far is near and near is far. No light—no glass—see that steeple—that tower—window—can hear—Roderick Usher—am mad or going mad—the thing is stirring and fumbling in the tower—I am it and it is I—I want to get out . . . must get out and unify the forces. . . . It knows where I am. . . . “I am Robert Blake, but I see the tower in the dark. There is a monstrous odour . . . senses transfigured . . . boarding at that tower window cracking and giving way. . . . Iä . . . ngai . . . ygg. . . . “I see it—coming here—hell-wind—titan blur—black wings—Yog-Sothoth save me—the three-lobed burning eye. . . .”
South Baltimore Now! Podcast: Author Discusses His Book About South Baltimore and the '97 Orioles On this episode of the South Baltimore Now! podcast, Nate and Kevin talk to Patrick McArdle, author of Wire to Wire. McArdle, a longtime South Baltimore resident, wrote this memoir about the first year he moved to South Baltimore. It focuses on his immediate affection for the neighborhood and the Orioles 1997 season when the team earned the title of wire-to-wire American League Champions after spending the entire year in first place. During the interview, the podcast crew discusses the book, reminisces about great eras of Orioles baseball, and has a fun conversation about everyone's love for South Baltimore living. Wire to Wire is available on Amazon and at Cheese Galore and More in Federal Hill.
In this episode, we spoke at length with cinematographer Richard Crudo, ASC. Richard has worked on an impressive list of projects including Raising Arizona, American Pie, American Buffalo, Presumed Innocent, Jungle Fever, Donnie Darko, Federal Hill, Outside Providence, “Justified” and “Jane the Virgin”. He also served for years as President of The ASC. In our chat, Richard shares about growing up in Brooklyn and his path to becoming a Hollywood cinematographer. We also learn about his cinematic influences, mentors, thoughts on technologies old and new — and insights from decades of making movies…The Making Of is presented by AJA Video Systems:Validating IMF Packages with the Oxagile Plug-in for AJA Diskover Media EditionAJA Diskover Media Edition provides a powerful, intuitive sustainable data management solution that integrates with a range of plug-ins, including Oxagile's IMF Validator plug-in. With it, users can scan and validate IMF packages before final delivery from anywhere, cuing content creators and providers into when content is ready to share. For more information, visit hereZEISS introduces their new camera tracking systemWith CinCraft Scenario, ZEISS presents a new, powerful and flexible camera tracking system as part of their CinCraft ecosystem.Built upon NCAM's unique tracking technology and ZEISS' expertise in lens data, the camera tracking system introduces a user experience designed to match the film crew's workflow and ease of use.Learn more hereUpcoming Event:Cine Gear Atlanta | October 6-7, 2023The industry's most renowned southern filmmaking community event will return this October to Atlanta's Trilith Studios with its hallmark exhibits, seminars and screenings! It's the event to attend to reconnect with colleagues, friends and collaborators. Check it out hereBook of the Month:Masters of Light: Conversations with Contemporary CinematographersThrough conversations held with fifteen of the most accomplished contemporary cinematographers, the authors explore the working world of the person who controls the visual look and style of a film. This reissue includes a new foreword by cinematographer John Bailey and a new preface by the authors, which bring this classic guide to cinematography, in print for more than twenty-five years, into the twenty-first century. Get a copy here CSS Music is the go-to production Music Library for Hollywood and the entire Film, TV and AV/Video markets. CSS offers thousands of tracks in every genre and style — helping producers and editors score their latest productions with licensing to fit any budget, from Royalty-Free or needle drop to Gratis (free) for qualified projects. With its easy-to-use search capability, great service and high-quality music, CSS has continued to serve the community since 1982. Browse at cssmusic.com Any questions? Contact us at info@cssmusic.com OWC Thunderbolt Go DockThe OWC Thunderbolt Go Dock is the first of its kind, full-featured Thunderbolt dock with a built-in power supply and 11 ports, for additional ease and connectivity while on the Go. It's a one-dock solution that works with all past, present and future Thunderbolt and USB devices and accessories. Take a look herePodcast Rewind: July 2023 - Episode XIII…The Making Of is produced by Michael Valinsky.To feature your products or services, contact mvalinsky@me.com Get full access to The Making Of at themakingof.substack.com/subscribe
Join the conversation with C4 and Bryan as they discuss the BGE view of the gas meter situation in Federal Hill with BGE spokesperson Nicholas Alexopulos. It looks like the country is gearing up for round 2 of Joe Biden vs Donald Trump in a presidential election race. Does the country actually want this? Also, accusations of spying from a Harford County councilman! Aaron Penman says that people from the county executive office and the Sheriff's department have been listening in on his phone call and looking at his emails. C4 and Bryan Nehman live every weekday from 5:30-10:00 am ET on WBAL News Radio 1090, FM101.5, and the WBAL Radio App.
Welcome back, enjoy Episode 91! Rhode Island Local News * - Bank Robbed on Federal Hill $500k heist 1:55 - Sriracha shortage for bulks orders, bottles even going for $70 online each 8:00 - Ed Sheeran breaks Gilette Stadium record of attendance with 70,000 9:24 - Taylor did 3 nights back to back at Gillette in the rain 60,000 each day, her new Tour Record for 2023 11:20 Culture News * - Adam22 responds to backlash from letting wife Lena The Plug have sex with another man Jason Luv for OnlyFans 14:12 - New app called Spill taking over Twitter after new Elon Musk rules limit Tweet views 26:01 - Travis Scott found fully innocent of Astroworld festival 10 fan deaths 33:50 - Coi Leray only sells 10k 37:30 - Drake paints nails and listens to Kanye West music 44:36 - Lil Uzi Vert's album is not good, 200,000 first week sales... 52:15 - ESPN fired 20 people to clear $30 Million from Disney budget 57:40 --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/cambition/support
Join the conversation with C4 and Bryan as they discuss the apparent short-term victory from the "Federal Hill 3" against BGE with Claudia Townes, one of the three who were arrested last week. Is the Maryland Superintendent of Schools staying? He has until Friday to decide and Robert Eccles joins the show to discuss his tenure as leader of State Schools. Also, New York City is instituting 'mindful breathing" to help their student with the daily stressors of schools. C4 and Bryan Nehman live every weekday from 5:30-10:00 am ET on WBAL News Radio 1090, FM101.5, and the WBAL Radio App.
Join the conversation and C4 and Bryan as they discuss a bunch of issues including current challenges with education, transportation, and more with Montgomery County Executive Marc Elrich. Is he running for senate? Thiru Vignarajah joins the show to discuss the issues Federal Hill residents are having with BGE's new gas monitoring system. Also, Dr. Mary Kate Schneider , Director of Global Studies from Loyola University joins the show to discuss the almost coup/rebellion that happened this past weekend and Russia and how the world sees Russian leader Vladimir Putin now. C4 and Bryan Nehman live every weekday from 5:30-10:00 am ET on WBAL News Radio 1090, FM101.5, and the WBAL Radio App.
Join the conversation and C4 and Bryan as they discuss the "lost" students from a COVID influence learning environment with Alec MacGillis who wrote an article in ProPublica about if America's students cant recover what they lost during the pandemic. A new study shows that african americans who have the means are movies out of large cities. What is the cause of this? Also, there was a protest in Federal Hill over new regulators that BGE wants to install, Is this a big deal or is it nothing? C4 and Bryan Nehman live every weekday from 5:30-10:00 am ET on WBAL News Radio 1090, FM101.5, and the WBAL Radio App.
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Local realtor Shannon Toback joins Nestor on the Maryland Crab Cake Tour at Captain Larry's in Federal Hill to renew their radio friendship and to discuss travel, hospitality and hiking the rugged mountains of Patagonia.
Essex attorney and recovering politician Todd Schuler joins Nestor at Captain Larry's in Federal Hill on the Maryland Crab Cake Tour to discuss his passion for horse racing, the Kenturky Derby and his weird Cajun spin on Preakness Saturday at his place.
Pete Manzo grew up in St. Louis in the food business working for his parents' company selling ingredients to local restaurants. He talks about the Italians who came to The Hill, St.Louis' Italian-American neighborhood, over 100 years ago as well as the best bakeries and Italian markets in this iconic part of the city. Plus, Pete and Brent compare notes on The Hill and Providence, RI's Federal Hill. [Ep 228] Show Notes: Complete show notes at https://radiomisfits.com/ded228/ Eat St. Louis Food Tours Trips2Savor vacations and experiences Viviano's Cafe Degregorio's Italian Market Urzi's Italian Market Marconi Bakery Vitale Bakery Missouri Baking Company Gelato i Riso Video food tour of Cordoba Brent's story on Bifana
Visionary Rebecca Hoffberger shares her vision for the future of Baltimore prosperity with Nestor
In this week's episode we are joined by Mads and Caroline Vericker, owners and founders of HeartLeaf Books a new Co-Op bookstore on Federal Hill. Mads, Caroline, Nick and Sascha talk about how Mads always wanted to start their own thing, how a yard sale kicked off HeartLeaf Books, finding their spot on Federal Hill, why starting a co-op was so important to them, and more!
On this week’s show, MOVING SUCKS, Federal Hill is wilin’ out (debatedebly), HOT SHE HULK CHAT (coz she is very attractive) and a discussion of the shockingly large number and variety of Predators (the movie kind) in film and on paper. Wow! JOIN OUR DISCORD RIGHT NOW! https://discord.gg/ntcQjmWJZW
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