Don't miss the interactive exhibit called "Weston's First Starbucks," which details the perilous, ill-fated missions to bring beans and baristas to the Everglades frontier town. It culminates with a diorama depicting the final, triumphant arrival of a franchise in 1998, plus a free venti decaf latte. Heirlooms and artifacts, like Jebediah J. Weston's first riding mower and pioneer-village landmarks like Ye Olde Circle K, await visitors. There's a full-scale replica of a bathroom of the Marino House, which was the first McMansion designed with an active DSL port in literally every room.
A monument marks the spot of Weston's first murder, which is where 20-year-old Bobby Kennedy, subject of the film Bully, was killed. Technically, the crime happened in 1993, a full three years before Weston was incorporated, but that shouldn't stop you from making time for the short film, Time to Drain the Monster, which documents exactly how that useless, boring old swampland was slowly filled with dirt and, later, people.
Tailpipe can't wait for the opening of the time capsule. The 'Pipe has it on good authority that its contents include a Bob Dole bumper sticker, a cache of O.J. Simpson memorabilia, and Dan Marino and Wayne Huizenga's matching friendship bracelets.
Don't Go, Ricky
There is a place for Ricky Williams on a South Florida football team. The Florida Frenzy, which played its second home game last week at the Hard Rock Live, says Ricky can play all the football he wants right here in Broward County, and those NFL fussbudgets can sit in a skybox and suck their thumbs.
The Frenzy is in its inaugural season as part of the National Indoor Football League. At their home opener on April 9, the players wore mismatched uniforms. An assortment of teachers and fitness instructors (nobody's giving up his day job), playing for $200 a game, the Frenzy is hungry. Mostly, the team is hungry for attention.
At the Hard Rock venue last week, the crowd was as sparse as the hair follicles of Terry Bradshaw's scalp. But the guys had gotten their matching uniforms together. The Frenzy scooted around the 50-yard field in green and navy spandex like a contingent of Aquamen (though they weren't spiffy enough to beat the Charleston Sandsharks, who edged the Frenzy 48-46).
"It would be awesome if there were another 500 people here," one spectator said. Added another fan, talking about the Frenzy's prospects: "It sounds like a good way to lose a shitload of money."
Owner Howard Leonhardt, 44-year-old founder and CEO of Bioheart Inc., envisions the Frenzy picking up business, after he makes a few additions to the roster. This week, the Frenzy holds tryouts for female placekickers "We're trying to confirm whether this would be the first female professional football player in a men's league ever," Leonhardt says. "We've invited the top soccer players in South Florida to try out."
But the Williams gambit that would be golden. "We've contacted his agent and let him know that we think it's better for him to stay in South Florida and play indoors rather than go to Canada," Leonhardt says.
Leonhardt might even consider stretching that $200 salary cap.
Williams couldn't be reached for comment.
Kane Ain't Able
Jim Kane is a highly regarded pollster and lobbyist, editor of Florida Voter, consultant to megadevelopers, and a big wheel in local politics. For more than three decades, he's been one of a handful of go-to experts on local elections. But, sheesh, Kane needs a consultant. Tailpipe thinks Kane should stop hanging with the rough crowd and find a good matrimonial matchmaker.
Last month, Kane signed a prosecution affidavit against his wife of five months, Elizabeth X. Kane, after a nasty domestic violence incident. According to the Fort Lauderdale Police Department report, the Kanes got into a heated argument that ended with Jim bruised and bloody from his wife's fists and fingernails. In the midst of their spat, Kane told officers, an intoxicated Elizabeth picked up a patio chair and threw it through a window in the front of the house. The window happened to be in the bedroom where Jim Kane's 10-year-old son, Conner, was trying to sleep.
Poor Conner. He's had his troubles sleeping at his mom's house too. Neighbors of Jim Kane's ex-wife, Pamela, told Tailpipe last fall of her own hurricane-season battles with the bottle, which often occurred while her son was home. A year ago this week, Conner made a midnight call to police from the house on SW 14th Court; the incident report dismissed it as a "parent/child discipline matter with no physical violence involved."