05/20/13 - Monday’s Topical Currents is with contributor Dan Ricker, publisher of the weekly Watchdog Report. Ricker celebrates the 14th anniversary of his independent internet news publication. We’ll touch on many issues, including Miami-Dade’s dither over water and sewer infrastructure upgrades, as well as the Miami Dolphin’s loss of millions in the stadium upgrade debacle. And though proceeds would benefit charity, would you pay to see the middle-aged Mayors of Hialeah and Miami Lakes face-off in a boxing match? That’s Topical Currents at 1pm on WLRN-HD1 rebroadcast at 7pm on WLRN-HD2 and audio on-demand after the live program.
WLRN’s search for South Florida’s best block continues.
WLRN, the Miami Herald, the Townhouse Center and the Knight Foundation have joined forces to identify and celebrate the most vibrant city streets in South Florida.
So what does it take to be a best block?
“We’re trying to focus on areas where there’s mixed-use type buildings, where you might have a restaurant at the bottom floor, maybe some living spaces above it,” said Debra Acosta, a multimedia producer for the Miami Herald.
Yesterday was a big day for bars and restaurants in Oakland Park. After a unanimous commission vote last week, the city lifted its law prohibiting the sale of alcohol between 7 a.m. and noon on Sunday mornings.
Oakland Park is the latest in a string of cities (including Fort Lauderdale, Margate and Deerfield Beach) to repeal their so called "blue laws.”
You can make an argument that Oakland Park’s blue law repeal started with a group of English hooligans who wanted to watch their European soccer matches.
Just two blocks west of Federal Highway in Fort Lauderdale, progressive metal band Neolythyc is rehearsing in a cramped, dark, converted garage. The rehearsal space is just a stone's-throw from Holiday Park, the last known address of jazz legend Jaco Pastorius.
The four members of Neolythyc are all 17 years old, born nearly a decade after Pastorius's death in 1987. But bass player Jerry Caceres refers to Jaco as "one of the old homies from down the block."
Forty-five-year-old Tammy Goss is sitting on a park bench in a small patch of green wedged between Dixie Highway and the FEC railroad tracks. Staring down from the southeast wall of the corner community center is a huge blue-toned mural of a man's face, his fingers curled around an electric bass guitar. She knows his name.
“Jaco Pastorius, I think,” says Goss.
But that's all she really knows about John Francis Pastorius III.