Sports Immortals Showcase Museum and Memorabilia Mart
In 1864, the first pair of ice skates was patented in the United States. In 1920, Cleveland Indians shortstop Ray Chapman got beaned in the head by a Carl Mays fastball, becoming the first major league baseball player to die during a game. And in 1992, Andre Agassi won the Wimbledon Tennis Tournament. So how are all these historical sports tidbits related? Sports Immortals Museum and Memorabilia Mart, that's how. Anyone remotely interested in sports could spend hours gazing, mouth agape, at the huge collection of sports memorabilia, from Muhammad Ali's championship belt to Franco Harris' (autographed) cleats that gained him more than 100 yards in eight straight games. There's so much history stuff for the history buff that you won't know where to start; it'd be a good idea to take a guided tour. In addition to the more than 1 million (!) sports mementoes in a rotating display of 30,000 items, Sports Immortals features interactive games and theater. It holds fundraisers, auctions, parties, and field trips. And you can buy stuff too, for $2 to $10,000, such as signed lithographs (O.J. Simpson, $396, no bloodstains), and posters ('96 Stanley Cup, $68). Admission is $5 for adults and $3 for children under age 12. Who says South Florida has no history?

In 1864, the first pair of ice skates was patented in the United States. In 1920, Cleveland Indians shortstop Ray Chapman got beaned in the head by a Carl Mays fastball, becoming the first major league baseball player to die during a game. And in 1992, Andre Agassi won the Wimbledon Tennis Tournament. So how are all these historical sports tidbits related? Sports Immortals Museum and Memorabilia Mart, that's how. Anyone remotely interested in sports could spend hours gazing, mouth agape, at the huge collection of sports memorabilia, from Muhammad Ali's championship belt to Franco Harris' (autographed) cleats that gained him more than 100 yards in eight straight games. There's so much history stuff for the history buff that you won't know where to start; it'd be a good idea to take a guided tour. In addition to the more than 1 million (!) sports mementoes in a rotating display of 30,000 items, Sports Immortals features interactive games and theater. It holds fundraisers, auctions, parties, and field trips. And you can buy stuff too, for $2 to $10,000, such as signed lithographs (O.J. Simpson, $396, no bloodstains), and posters ('96 Stanley Cup, $68). Admission is $5 for adults and $3 for children under age 12. Who says South Florida has no history?

If you've tried to walk into Tavern 213 on a Sunday night and got stuck in the doorway, that's a good thing. Folks trying to squeeze the last bit of fun out of the weekend know that on Sundays, there is the chance they'll catch noisy, chaotic, energetic sets by AC Cobra, Malt Liquor Riot, the Slants, the Shakers, Trapped by Mormons, the Creepy T's, the Heatseekers, and countless other local bands. But there's also a chance of getting beer, sweat, or other bodily fluids sprayed on you or an elbow in your eye or witnessing a drum set get thrown through the front window. And since Tavern is open until 4 a.m. every night, that's two more hours of hangover for the next morning.
If you've tried to walk into Tavern 213 on a Sunday night and got stuck in the doorway, that's a good thing. Folks trying to squeeze the last bit of fun out of the weekend know that on Sundays, there is the chance they'll catch noisy, chaotic, energetic sets by AC Cobra, Malt Liquor Riot, the Slants, the Shakers, Trapped by Mormons, the Creepy T's, the Heatseekers, and countless other local bands. But there's also a chance of getting beer, sweat, or other bodily fluids sprayed on you or an elbow in your eye or witnessing a drum set get thrown through the front window. And since Tavern is open until 4 a.m. every night, that's two more hours of hangover for the next morning.

Age: 53

Hometown: New York City

Claim to fame: Founder and producing director of the acclaimed Florida Stage

What he's done for us lately: The Florida Stage has stuck by its guns for 17 years, producing quality new stage works with professionalism. No tired revivals of Arsenic and Old Lace or The Glass Menagerie, no janitors stumbling on as walk-ons, no costumes from Kmart. Spots are hit, lines are spoken on cue, and the company does its damnedest to grapple with the issues that contemporary playwrights are brooding upon. This year, Tyrrell, a hands-on theater man all the way, directed local playwright Michael McKeever's macabre Running with Scissors. Then the company staged one of the best South Florida productions of the past year, Permanent Collection, Thomas Gibbons' challenging examination of institutional racism and political correctness.

What it takes: "In the theater, it's all about collaboration. The thing that's driven me is ultimately a practical need to interact with other people, to have a positive impact on the community in the small way that we do. The moment we start to think too much of ourselves and that impact, though, I remind myself that we wear wigs and bows for a living."

Age: 53

Hometown: New York City

Claim to fame: Founder and producing director of the acclaimed Florida Stage

What he's done for us lately: The Florida Stage has stuck by its guns for 17 years, producing quality new stage works with professionalism. No tired revivals of Arsenic and Old Lace or The Glass Menagerie, no janitors stumbling on as walk-ons, no costumes from Kmart. Spots are hit, lines are spoken on cue, and the company does its damnedest to grapple with the issues that contemporary playwrights are brooding upon. This year, Tyrrell, a hands-on theater man all the way, directed local playwright Michael McKeever's macabre Running with Scissors. Then the company staged one of the best South Florida productions of the past year, Permanent Collection, Thomas Gibbons' challenging examination of institutional racism and political correctness.

What it takes: "In the theater, it's all about collaboration. The thing that's driven me is ultimately a practical need to interact with other people, to have a positive impact on the community in the small way that we do. The moment we start to think too much of ourselves and that impact, though, I remind myself that we wear wigs and bows for a living."

The now-defunct (or is it?), FCC-dodging pirate hip-hop station was dirty and raunchy and played music Power 96 wouldn't touch with a ten-foot Source award. It was a South Florida representative of the Dirty South style of hip-hop. Listeners called in to give first-name-only shoutouts to friends they knew might be tuning in. Obscenities were de rigueur. It hosted a Holiday Inn throwdown on Powerline and Commercial called "Throwback Friday," attracting upward of 600 people, some from out of state, as well as a sea of Air Force 1's and tricked-out cars. And then... silence. But if you happen to be dial-surfing in the high 80s soon, listen for the thump of the crunk.

The now-defunct (or is it?), FCC-dodging pirate hip-hop station was dirty and raunchy and played music Power 96 wouldn't touch with a ten-foot Source award. It was a South Florida representative of the Dirty South style of hip-hop. Listeners called in to give first-name-only shoutouts to friends they knew might be tuning in. Obscenities were de rigueur. It hosted a Holiday Inn throwdown on Powerline and Commercial called "Throwback Friday," attracting upward of 600 people, some from out of state, as well as a sea of Air Force 1's and tricked-out cars. And then... silence. But if you happen to be dial-surfing in the high 80s soon, listen for the thump of the crunk.

There have been better times for magic, magician Larry Taylor admits. Fewer and fewer people are getting into the business of pulling rabbits out of, well, wherever. So Taylor, who's spent 35 years as a magician in Philadelphia and South Florida, is hoping to teach the next generation. Taylor gives one-on-one magic lessons for kids and soon-to-be pros out of his Boynton Beach magic shop, the South Florida Magic Company. The $50-an-hour lessons begin with simple card and coin tricks, eventually bringing the advanced student to Taylor's specialty, the ol' "cube zag." That's where Taylor sticks knives through his assistant (also his wife). Well, at least it looks that way. "That's the advanced stuff," Taylor says. After three or four lessons, Taylor contends, most students can perform for audiences. They'll need probably $500 for just the beginner's equipment and thousands more for technical tricks. But there are hatfuls of money to be made just in the bar mitzvah market, he says, and the big thing now is corporate events, where magicians make the rounds at company cocktail parties. Soon enough, however, magic may be back to the mainstream. "It's been around for thousands of years, and it's not going away anytime soon," the 65-year-old Taylor says. "It's going to come back before you know it." Maybe Taylor's just the man to pull the profession from his sleeve.

There have been better times for magic, magician Larry Taylor admits. Fewer and fewer people are getting into the business of pulling rabbits out of, well, wherever. So Taylor, who's spent 35 years as a magician in Philadelphia and South Florida, is hoping to teach the next generation. Taylor gives one-on-one magic lessons for kids and soon-to-be pros out of his Boynton Beach magic shop, the South Florida Magic Company. The $50-an-hour lessons begin with simple card and coin tricks, eventually bringing the advanced student to Taylor's specialty, the ol' "cube zag." That's where Taylor sticks knives through his assistant (also his wife). Well, at least it looks that way. "That's the advanced stuff," Taylor says. After three or four lessons, Taylor contends, most students can perform for audiences. They'll need probably $500 for just the beginner's equipment and thousands more for technical tricks. But there are hatfuls of money to be made just in the bar mitzvah market, he says, and the big thing now is corporate events, where magicians make the rounds at company cocktail parties. Soon enough, however, magic may be back to the mainstream. "It's been around for thousands of years, and it's not going away anytime soon," the 65-year-old Taylor says. "It's going to come back before you know it." Maybe Taylor's just the man to pull the profession from his sleeve.

Best Of Broward-Palm Beach®

Best Of