On a sunny Tuesday afternoon in late May, Ric Bradshaw was ready to show off the support he’d garnered for his campaign for the sheriff’s office in Palm Beach County. About 50 supporters had gathered just outside the Palm Beach governmental center in downtown West Palm Beach. Some were West…
That was Ben Cohen, co-founder of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream, who Tailpipe spied in Fort Lauderdale on Tuesday. No little white hat and scoops of Cherry Garcia or Heath Bar Crunch to give him away, but a familiar Woodstockian message. Cohen was in town to install electric signage on…
“I can control what you experience through the night,” Gary Santis says, “with my lighting.” The mad-scientist statement drops from the hot (very early ’90s George Michael, yum!) promoter for the most prominent dance venue in Broward County, the 18,000-square-foot Coliseum nightclub (2520 S. Miami Rd., Hollywood). Unless you’ve been…
If Broward County had only listened to Miriam Oliphant, taxpayers could have saved millions of dollars and had a more efficient democracy. Stranger words were never spoken. But it’s true. The mega-maligned former Broward supervisor of elections — who Gov. Jeb Bush forced out of office last November — tried…
Help for Gay IslandersFrom north of here: No one deserves the nonsense suffered by Brian Williamson or others in Jamaica as described in Jeff Stratton’s June 24 story, “Gay in Jamaica.” I practice immigration law with the Catholic Diocese of Richmond. If any Jamaican gay guy can get to the…
It’s a stinker of a ruling if Tailpipe ever smelled one. Broward Commissioner John Rodstrom this month squeaked through a Florida Commission on Ethics investigation of his dealings. Fort Lauderdale resident Judy Sadlier had alleged that the millionaire politician benefited financially from his opposition to expansion at Fort Lauderdale Hollywood…
When Desmond Chambers found the corpse of his friend, Brian Williamson, he couldn’t believe the carnage. Blood was spattered on all four walls of the tiny bedroom in New Kingston, a well-to-do part of the Jamaican capital. The carpet was drenched from multiple wounds to Williamson’s head and neck. The…
Simone Gitman wants to help me find God. A petite brunet with ocean-blue eyes the size of half-dollar coins, Gitman sits cross-legged next to me on a brown sofa with oversized cushions in the canal-front home she rents in Victoria Park. Dressed in gray sweat pants and a blue tank…
What would Granny do? Probably take him to the hospital. But tonight, stitches and duct tape will have to suffice for Al Michael. Michael was ATVing a recent Saturday out by Mack’s Fish Camp when he rolled his machine and split his scalp wide open. “Anyone else would have laid…
A Journalistic Paragon of a Columnist Brings truth to the people: I enjoyed Bob Norman’s recent piece on Susan MacManus (“GOPundit,” June 17). I intend to use it as an example of “what not to do” in my advanced reporting class. I always remind my class of the importance of…
There’s a sulfur smell in the air. No, it’s not just the odor of unrefined gasoline shooting out of car exhausts (hey, don’t look at Tailpipe!) or the rotten-egg smell from that misfiring wastewater treatment facility in Delray Beach. This is the scent of Big Shot bosses simmering with righteous…
Just south of the Henry E. Kinney tunnel in downtown Fort Lauderdale sits a big, fat, square, teal-and-brown building with no windows and a couple of hanging signs that read “$1 drafts.” You’ve probably driven past it a hundred times without noticing it, let alone feeling the pull of its…
She’s a first-rate sound-bite slinger, a newsroom Rolodex regular, and as accessible as 411. When reporters need a quick political quote, they call Susan MacManus at her office, home, or cell. If she doesn’t pick up, she’ll almost surely phone back before deadline. MacManus, a political science professor at the…
The laughing arrives first, echoing down the hallway. Then comes the commotion. Bodyguards and business associates enter the room, walking slowly backward so as not to lose sight of their smiling, boisterous, broad-shouldered boss. The cameras roll. The laughing continues. The man enters. And he sparkles. Literally. Overhead lights and…
Baked or Fried? Stop the drunks! Chuck Strouse’s June 10 column, “Half Baked,” is one-sided, piece-of-shit journalism. What should emergency room employees do with people out of their mind on drugs and alcohol? Release them? This woman pulled her catheter out. Do you know what a catheter is? Would a…
Dorsey Miller, one of the most powerful black Republicans in Florida, often plays the role of civil rights champion. And, as the former diversity czar for Broward County schools and current commissioner for the North Broward Hospital District (NBHD), the nation’s sixth-largest public health entity, he’s usually in a position…
When you’re in the newspaper business, you’re supposed to give the people you write about a chance to speak. Maybe you don’t like somebody, but at least you let him respond to your criticisms. That old cornerstone of the free press recently got swept into the trash bin over at…
From now until the end of November, you’re on notice: It’s hurricane season. According to our research, (which amounted basically to skimming the South Florida daily newspapers’ nausea-inducing hurricane guides), we’re pretty much doomed. Kaput. History, baby. The experts and their fancy computers have forecast eight Atlantic hurricanes this season,…
Imagine this: You’re an overworked waitress. You have your first night off in three weeks. You down a few drinks, end up a little tipsy, and next thing you know, you’re on the psych ward at county general hospital for 26 hours. An inmate threatens to kill you, a nurse…
Bub: Thank you for Eric Alan Barton’s June 3 article “Protect the Abuser.” It sounds pretty bad for both of these individuals. Please keep us informed. Bob Pardon Via the Internet Best Again Honorific:Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for naming the Museum of Lifestyle & Fashion History…
On a spring morning two years ago, Kimberly Peck saw something shocking in the hut where her daughters were sleeping. Peck, then a member of the Twelve Tribes religious cult, lived with her family in Quonset-style huts on a Central Florida compound. Her new husband, Jeff Leonard, went over to…
Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you? — Walt Whitman, To You It wasn’t as if we expected people to treat us like goddamned prom queens or something when Career…
