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paraparaparadigm · 4 years ago

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H Walter and Walter P Fuller

Father and son "ahead of their times'

By BETTY JEAN MILLER Published Oct. 13, 2005

The Walter Fuller Community Center at 7891 26th Ave. N bears the full name of neither H. Walter Fuller nor Walter P. Fuller. It's just "Walter Fuller," and perhaps that's best, for it would be difficult to separate the deeds of the father from those of the son.

H. Walter Fuller, the father, was an Atlantan, born in 1865. He came to Tampa in 1883 as a victim of tuberculosis and engaged in citrus farming and coastal trading. His future began to take shape when he moved to Bradenton in 1886 and went into road building and contracting. He also served Manatee County in the Legislature for 10 years, first as a representative and then as a senator.

H. Walter Fuller's career in construction led him up the coast, where he helped build military fortifications at Fort De Soto and Egmont Key during the Spanish-American War, and he began building roads in Pinellas County.

Because he had owned and operated an electric street car company in Bradenton, Fuller was given charge of managing and extending St. Petersburg's street car lines, which were privately owned.

And thereupon began more than six frenetic decades of Fuller enterprises and activities in Pinellas.

The senior Fuller moved here in 1907 with his wife and five children. With financial backing of another developer and investor, Jacob Disston, from 1909 to 1917, Fuller extended Central Avenue and the trolley car line to Boca Ciega Bay, increased the trolley system from seven to 23 miles and bought thousands of acres of real estate, much of which was in the Jungle area. The trolley line gave access to this land.

He became a millionaire and is credited with starting the city's first real land boom from 1911 to 1914.

Around this time, son Walter P., who was born in 1894, was a partner in and manager of 11 corporations controlled by his father, including a Tampa Bay passenger steamship line, a Gulfport to Pass-a-Grille boat line, and St. Petersburg's first electric power plant.

Alas, H. Walter overextended himself and went into bankruptcy in 1917, which at that time was a disgrace.

But he soon recovered.

With a $1-million advance from a Philadelphia banker, the Fullers bought back most of the land they had lost by 1921. The two also started the Laurel Park real estate development in Hendersonville, N.C. Eventually Walter P. bought out his father's St. Petersburg interests and the elder Fuller turned his attentions to North Carolina, where he stayed in real estate until he died in 1943.

Walter P. Fuller at various times owned 3,200 acres in St. Petersburg and 2,500 acres in central Pinellas County, owned the Pass-a-Grille Hotel, developed the Jungle area and built the Jungle Prada restaurant and shops on Park Street N, which included the Gangplank, the city's first nightclub. He also built the Jungle Hotel, crown jewel of the Jungle development. At Fifth Avenue and Park Street N, the hotel even had its own radio station and airport, for WSUN Radio emanated from there and the Piper-Fuller Airport was nearby. The hotel is now Admiral Farragut Academy.

The $750,000 in assets the junior Fuller had in 1923 was parlayed into $7-million by 1925. A year later, Fuller history repeated itself and he lost it all in the real estate collapse.

St. Petersburg Beach Realtor/historian Frank Hurley knew both Fullers, and particularly remembers their activities on the beaches.

"They were ahead of their times. I always pay tribute to the pair of them, because when most people saw sandspurs and scrub palms out here, (at St. Petersburg Beach) they saw a community.

"But the Fullers were opportunists," he continued. "And they were very competitive."

He tells the story of how Vina del Mar came to be: "The Fullers owned the Pass-a-Grille Hotel at about 26th Avenue. Boats would come over every day from Gulfport and go around Mud Key," now Vina del Mar. Because Mud Key was attached to the beach by sand flats, boats went to the east of it. This would take them to the Lizotte and other hotels in the Eighth Avenue area of Pass-a-Grille, where most of the guests would embark before coming north to the Fuller hotel.

"So the Fullers dredged out a channel on the (west) side of Mud Key, so the boats could now come up there and the tourists would get to the Pass-a-Grille Hotel dock first," Hurley said.

Walter P. Fuller was even more versatile and venturesome than his father.

His wheeling and dealing is said to have begun with his mother's stove falling apart when the young Fuller was in the eighth grade in Manatee County. His dad didn't have the $28 to buy a new one, but young Walter had $32 in the bank. His dad talked him into buying three of his lots for $10 down each and $2 a month. The $30 went to buy a new stove, but the boy had to figure out a way to earn the necessary $6 a month to keep up his land payments.

He got four jobs as a janitor with pay totaling exactly $6. He got up at 5 a.m. to work before school, and through various enterprises bought four more lots. He sold all of his lots for $1,500, making enough money to get him into the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in 1911.

Fuller's UNC record was so unusual that it, too, bears mentioning. To earn more money, he arranged to be campus correspondent for such newspapers as the Charlotte Observer, the Raleigh Times and the Wilmington Star. It is said he was the only student on campus with an office, a secretary and a car, a 1910 Hudson.

When the H. Walter Fuller Enterprises collapsed in 1917, Walter P. went back to journalism at the St. Petersburg Times. He became its city editor, left here to edit and manage the Manatee River Journal in Bradenton. Then it was back to St. Petersburg in 1919 to ride the real estate roller coaster again with his father.

By 1930, down and out in real estate again, Walter P. went into the bond business, then started the Fuller's Florida Letter in 1933. Through this, he was for 12 years the authority on public finance, business and economic conditions.

In 1936, the junior Fuller ran for the state Legislature, and stayed two terms. He was defeated in his bid for the Senate in 1940. He was appointed chief clerk of the House of Representatives in 1943, coming back following this to be a feature, political and editorial writer for the Times.

But once more he heard the siren call of real estate, and Fuller left the Times. In the late 1950s, he amassed yet another fortune, estimated at $1.1-million. He lost it in the land collapse at the end of the decade. But this time he stayed in the business, writing on the side. He published two Florida histories, lectured at local colleges and engaged in horticulture. He retired from real estate in 1971, died two years later at the age of 79.

Information for this story came from St. Petersburg and the Florida Dream, by Ray Arsenault; The Story of St. Petersburg, by Karl Grismer; The History of Pinellas County, Florida by W.L. Straub, and Times files.

#Walter Fuller

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cryptoupdates · 3 years ago

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rtirman-blog · 7 years ago

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10 Church and Flatbush

The last place we lived, before moving to Long Island, was 1 Martense Court. Our house, a half block off of Flatbush Avenue, was the first house on the north side of Martense Street, on the left, going into Martense Court. One block south of, and parallel to, Martense Street is Church Avenue, which ran east/west. If you look at Brooklyn on your GPS, you can see all I am saying about that location. In fact, you can see all the locations I have so far described.

The corner of Flatbush and Church, was one of the busiest corners in Brooklyn. Beside trolley cars on both Avenues, from that corner, you were within “shouting distance” of 7 movie theaters- Flatbush, RKO Kenmore, Astor, Albamare, Loews, Rialto, and Farragut. To me, it was Brooklyn’s answer to Times Square. But in theaters on Times Square you could see movies when they were first released by the studios. In Brooklyn, we would get those same movies a couple of weeks later. But it cost a lot to pay for a movie on Times Square. So it was worth it to wait until the movie would get to Brooklyn. Not only did it cost more in Times Square, but all you would see was that one movie. All the theaters in Brooklyn always showed two feature films.

On Saturdays, Mother would give each of us movie money. At the Flatbush Theater, for a dime, you got to see two full length films, a serial, and 5 live, vaudeville acts. To boot, they had funny character races on the screen from which you could win dishes. The whole afternoon was taken up...a big break for Mother! I’m certain she saw it as money well spent. That brings up one other thought concerning the movies on Times Square-

Garfield’s Restaurant, later converted to an automat, was on the northeast corner of Church and Flatbush. It was, if ever, a rare thing for us to eat at Garfield’s. But it is a very memorable place for me. More precisely, the big blue mail box outside the restaurant is where my memory is focused. Throughout the Major League baseball

Season, on many a night, I would sit on that mailbox waiting for tomorrow’s papers to be delivered to that spot. The thing I most remember was to look at the headlines of the last page of the News and the Mirror, 2 of my most favorite newspapers in the world! A typical headline would be the scores of the Dodgers, Giants, and Yankees-

“Flock beats Bucs 2-1”, “Giants Crush Cards 9-3”, “Yanks Top Sox 7-5”, etc.

When I was at that mailbox, it was late in the evening, but Flatbush and Church was alive with cars, trolleys, bars, and people. It was fun for me and my buddy Jimmy.

The papers were always delivered between 10 and 11 P.M.

Just down the west side of Flatbush Ave, the W. T. Grant store was always bustling with shoppers. I can’t remember whether I was still 8 or if I was 9 when walking in the toy section, I spotted a water pistol I thought would be great to have. I mozied on over to the counter. Using the stealing method taught to me, at age five, by Billy, I picked up two pistols. Then, with stealth, I slipped one pistol in my pocket, and as obviously as I could, I cleverly returned the other pistol to its place on the counter. Voila!

“Hey son! What are you doing? What do you have in your pocket?” It was the manager of the store.

(Now, this seems to be a good place to tell you how small I was. I probably looked about 6 years old. I was always the shortest or smallest kid in my class. I was very slight of build, with golden blonde hair and blue eyes- the picture of innocence.)

I pulled the water pistol from my pocket, put it on the counter, and began to cry…for real

“You know better than that! What’s your name?”…….Sammy Horrowitz

Who are you with?”………I’m by myself

“How old are you Sammy?”………I’m nine years old.

“Where do you live?...... on E. 48th St

“What school do you go to”…… P.S. 208

“Well, Sammy, I ought to call your mother. But if you promise me you’ll be a good boy from now on, I will let you be on your way”

…It was easy to make that promise…and I meant it!

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shirlleycoyle · 5 years ago

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The Real Robotic Revolution

Burn-In: A Novel of the Real Robotic Revolution is a new form of book, a cross between fiction and nonfiction. It is a techno-thriller, following a hunt for a terrorist through the streets of a future Washington, D.C. At the same time, it is a work of research with over three hundred factual explanations and predictions baked into the story, replete with the nonfiction reference endnotes to show their source from the real world. The idea is for the reader to enjoy a vivid story and characters, but also learn about everything from how AI works and its planned applications, to its likely impact on the future of politics, economics, society, and security. As a result, Burn-In has drawn early praise from a diverse mix that ranges from the current or former heads of the CIA, U.S. Navy, Marine Corps, NATO, and LinkedIn to the writer of Lost, Watchmen, and the new Star Trek movies.

The following scene takes place about halfway through the story. A series of cyberattacks on dams, water treatment plant, and sewer systems (all incredibly vulnerable critical infrastructure in the real world) have caused a massive flood to sweep across the low-lying areas of Washington DC. In a sense, it is an intentional version of the 1936 flood that remade the city. In the tsunami's aftermath, FBI Special Agent Lara Keegan and the test system that she's been assigned to vet are part of the emergency rescue effort. TAMS (short for Tactical Autonomous Mobility System) is where the software of Siri and Alexa and the hardware of robots will be in approximately 10-15 years. Keegan is uncertain whether she should help train up TAMS or sink the experiment, to help protect her own job down the line… — P.W. Singer

FARRAGUT SQUARE

Washington, DC

Keegan kept her hands on the SUV’s wheel, ready to snatch control as she travelled with TAMS against a steady stream of autonomous ve- hicles fleeing the flooding along the Potomac. Above its historic high water mark, the river spread over the entire basin and had even over- whelmed the barrier walls at Reagan National Airport.

“Send our location to Noritz and the TOC,” said Keegan. TAMS pushed a thumbs-up emoji to Keegan’s vizglasses.

Their destination was the old FBI Washington Field Office building at 4th and G. A notice had gone out that a temporary command post had been set up there after the Hoover Building’s basement flooded and the entire block lost power.

On the SUV’s screen, Keegan projected live satellite imagery of the city overlaid onto a street map. It showed how the flood wave had paid no mind to the orderly gridlike arrangement of Washington’s streets. The initial wave had surged well up to M Street, but then the waters had quickly receded, leaving muddy red sidewalks and sucking cars right out of their parking spaces.

Most of all the view showed how just a few feet in elevation made all the difference between devastation and normalcy. Most parts of the city were untouched, but now a massive moat cut through Washington, DC,’s federal district, turning the southern chunk of the city into an island. The Potomac River’s newest tributary entered the city at the Tidal Basin on the edge of the National Mall before its waters returned back into the main river near the lower elevation of the District Wharf shopping complex. Or rather what had been the District Wharf shopping complex.

The borders of the flood zone reflected the subtle topographic con- tours of a city constructed out of swampland, unnoticed by most residents, but which had originally set its design over three centuries back.3 The flood’s edge ran along Pennsylvania Avenue, roughly miroring the now-paved-over Tiber Creek that had once reached right up to the President’s Palace, before it was renamed the White House.4 It then ran from 15th Street beside the Treasury Department building, down over to the I-395 highway tunnels that opened at the base of Capitol Hill.5 Its southern side ran along Madison Avenue, the lower edge of the National Mall, which had previously been the open canal where Washington’s residents had dumped their trash in the early days of the republic’s capital city. The slight incline of the National Mall protected its green spaces, but the Museum of Natural History and the Justice Department, as well as the other buildings between Madison and Pennsylvania Avenues, now appeared as squares of cement rising out of the brown-red water, like tiny islands.

Keegan zoomed in, seeing tiny dots swarming each of the island-buildings. Some were brightly colored city and federal emergency response drones, but there were also parcel drones dropping packages on the rooftops, an automated rush of requested deliveries and flash-funding charity drops. Panning over to the veterans’ encampment, Keegan saw that the rest of Capitol Hill remained dry.

“Route the vehicle around any areas less than 20 meters in elevation,” Keegan said, realizing the vehicle’s navigation probably didn’t have a scenario for city streets literally disappearing underwater.

They got as close as Farragut Square before the crowds got too thick. Keegan sent the SUV off to autopark up on high ground near H street and they set out on foot. Overhead, a bright yellow FEMA drone loitered in a lazy circle, while a micro-cam drone from one of the newsfeeds landed on the statue of Admiral Farragut to get a better shot. Thousands of people were out in the streets, some with a specific destination in mind, some aimless, and many just to film and comment.

As they wove through the crowd, they passed the Farragut West Metro entrance. Keegan hated that spot more than anywhere in DC. She’d first been there nine years ago, while on leave from the Saudi stability op. It had been in early December, so on her way home, she’d killed time during a seven-hour layover at Dulles Airport to come in and check out the White House Christmas tree and all that stuff that you were supposed to be fighting for. Riding the subway escalator up, though, she had recoiled at the stench, not because it was that bad, but because it was all too familiar. The station had been turned into an encampment for desperate people, crushed together to escape the cold. She was a stone’s throw from the White House, witnessing the abject abandonment of fellow humans that she’d only before experienced in refugee camps. And she knew that her commander in chief would never walk the two city blocks to confront that dark fact.

Today, a stream of men and women, some with children, emerged out of the station, wet and sobbing.

“TAMS, gimme a status check on the Metro,” Keegan said as she headed down to see if anyone below needed aid. The rule beaten into her since boot camp was Marines headed toward the sounds of chaos.6 “The lower-elevation sections of the Orange Line and Blue Line are flooded,” said TAMS. The bot pushed a Metro map with the affected segments to Keegan’s vizglasses. It also marked malfunctions that had apparently locked the valves for the Metro system’s air vents and the DC stormwater overflow pipes that connected to the Potomac River.7 To save money, the designs had piggybacked off each other, but now their malfunction prevented the system from clearing itself.

Peering down the escalator, Keegan could see the effect. Muddy water lapped halfway down the steps, meaning the entire ticketing mezzanine was flooded. Worse, the next lower level where the trains boarded also had to be completely underwater.

“Is everyone out?”

“No. My acoustic sensors indicate there is a female adult trapped below.”

Keegan couldn’t hear anything over the rush of the water and the voices of the crowd above. Her stomach knotted. “Where exactly?”

“I cannot ascertain.”

There was an agent’s booth in the middle of the second level. That might be high enough for somebody to climb up on and get above the flood. She eyed the swirl of muddy water. It was too deep to stand in, and the current would send her down into the Metro tunnels if she tried swimming it.

“Can you reach her?” Keegan said.

“Yes. I am rated to ISO standards for underwater operations for a duration of thirty minutes at 10 meters depth.”

The water reeked of ozone and sewage. If TAMS went in and never came out, that would certainly solve the problem that the deputy director had put in her lap. But it would present another: she would have to find a way to finish the rescue herself.

“Then do it. I need you to reach whoever is down there and lead them out.”

“OK,” it said.

TAMS stepped carefully toward the water’s edge, narrowly avoiding stepping on a tiny frog that hopped up the steps. All sorts of shit down there is going to be forced up, thought Keegan.

“Hey! You need to get out of there! What the hell are you doing?” a man shouted down.

“Good question,” Keegan called back, then she thought better of it.

It wasn’t the time for snark.

“We’re FBI. There’s someone trapped down there!”

A barrel-chested African American soldier in Army fatigues smeared with mud came running down the escalator. He pulled up in shock at the sight of TAMS descending into the water, one hand gripping the railing. “That thing yours?”

“Yeah,” Keegan replied. “It detected someone inside. I think they’re stuck in that booth by the turnstiles, you know, where you ask for di- rections.”

“And you’re going to send the Terminator in after them?” “If you’ve got a better idea, I’m listening.”

“Nah. Just don’t ask me to sign for that when you lose it.”

With the water now up to its neckline, TAMS had stopped to listen to their conversation. Perhaps the soldier’s uniform had triggered some old program.

“TAMS, you’re still cleared to proceed,” Keegan stated. “OK.”

It wasn’t a remarkable set of last words, Keegan thought, as the bot disappeared into the murk in a shimmering blue halo generated by its onboard navigation lights. Her AR glasses pushed a notice: Network connection lost.

“This going to work?” the soldier asked. “Hell if I know.”

“Sergeant Terrence King, Maryland National Guard,” he said. “Your phone app functional? I need to let my wife know I’m OK.”

“Agent Lara Keegan. No, not without the bot boosting the signal.” The man sighed.

Then light washed over them and Keegan looked back up the escalator and saw a line of people gathered to watch, several turning on their lens cameras to record them, even a few holding out old smart- phones to get a better angle.

“FBI! Turn your cameras off!” she shouted back. “Like that’s ever worked,” said King.

Keegan glared at him, then turned back to the water, waiting for any sign of the robot. Neither spoke as they waited, watching another frog hop past their feet and clamber up the escalator. Then they heard a voice.

“We’re coming up! We’re coming up!” a breathless woman shouted from the far end of the tunnel. Then she appeared, a woman in her fifties. She thrashed at the water with one hand, her other arm being pulled by some force under the water. Just ahead of her a faint blue light got brighter and brighter as it approached beneath the surface.

“We’re up here! Watch the steps at the bottom of the escalator,” said Keegan, wading into the water as TAMS came into view, its head barely clearing the surface. She and King pulled the woman out of the water, the polyester of her blue WMATA uniform dripping sheets of water.

King took off his jacket to wrap the woman up and led her up the stairs.

TAMS, meanwhile, waited down at the bottom of the escalator, the water lapping at its waist, its arm locked on the railing. Keegan thought about what exactly the deputy director would order at this moment.

“Come on, TAMS,” she said. “Get out of the water, hero.” “OK.”

As the machine exited the murk, water spurted from its joints and sensor ports. On Keegan’s viz screen, it showed that the connection to the bot’s operating system was still not working.

“Confirm diagnostics, TAMS,” Keegan said.

The robot stood still for thirty seconds, until a message read on Keegan’s vizglasses: System reboot complete. Restore network connection.

That meant taking TAMS up to the street level to get a signal. “Fol- low me to the street and reestablish satellite bandwidth connection.”

“OK.”

At the top of the stairs, she stopped so abruptly that TAMS liter- ally stepped on her heels. Even through the pant leg, the metal edge scraped a piece of skin off the back. “Shit,” she said to herself, but not at the pain.

Waiting there was King, standing at attention. He threw a salute and then started clapping, a steady authoritative rhythm. The crowd of hundreds behind him joined in, wet palms slapping together in applause, humans looking for something good to cling to on a day of awfulness, even if it was a machine.

The Real Robotic Revolution syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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worlddaily · 5 years ago

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Downtown closure over Metro vent shaft concerns will last 4 months

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Metro awarded a contract last week to replace the steel supports and grates that carry the middle lanes of 17th Street NW between Connecticut Avenue-K Street NW and I Street NW on the west side of Farragut Square.

It will take about four months to fix a major artery in downtown D.C. that engineers said may not support the weight of vehicles and cause them to fall straight into a Metro…

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#Autos #Cars

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namejason13-blog · 5 years ago

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HAGSTROM BROOKLYN 1922

Unlike Queens, which was in the midst of overhauling its street nomenclature in 1922, pushing out names and old numbered streets and instituting a borough-wide numbering system, the map of Brooklyn was pretty much settled on in 1922, and it would remain much the same to this day, with one glaring exception. While outlying regions such as Bergen Beach and Canarsie were not yet completely urbanized, and wouldn’t be until the late 20th Century, much of Brooklyn was laid out and built up.

The downtown area, though, has experienced great change since 1922. Public works by traffic czar Robert Moses such as the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway as well as Cadman Plaza, a large park, and housing such as the Farragut, Ingersoll and Whitman Houses, as well as private developments like MetroTech Center, have conspired to eliminate dozens of streets, hundreds of buildings, and two separate elevated train lines. A comparable situation took place in Boston, which tore out much of its downtown and Scollay Square area to build its City Hall and other government buildings in the 1960s. Downtown Brooklyn’s changes began in the 1940s and continue to this day.

On the 1922 map shown here the thick green lines represent elevated trains. One of them came over the Brooklyn Bridge and ran south on Adams Street and east on Myrtle Avenue. The Myrtle Avenue el would last until 1969. Another one, the Fulton Street El, began at the East River and ran east out on Fulton Street and Liberty Avenue to Ozone Park. The section shown here would be torn down in 1942. Not shown on this excerpt is a branch that went down Flatbush, 5th and 3rd Avenues into Bay Ridge, which ran until 1940. We can see a number of streets that exist as relative stubs today that ran full length in 1922, such as High (named for a hill leveled nearly two centuries ago), Johnson, Sands and Prospect Streets.

The north end of Fulton, and the south end of Washington, became Cadman Plaza East and West, while in the 1970s the north end of Cadman Plaza West was re-dubbed Old Fulton Street. When Cadman Plaza was built in the 1950s, the formerly el-shrouded Adams Street was given 6 extra lanes to carry traffic coming off the Brooklyn Bridge.

And alleys, alleys, alleys. DUMBO has lost a few, like Talman Street, Charles Street, Green Lane. There were tiny, narrow ones with not enough room to show on the map, like Floods Alley, Gothic Alley and Nutria Alley, the latter named for a fur-bearing critter prized for its fur. Newark has a Nutria Alley too, both are gone now.

Until recently, these were just lines on paper to me. But the city has now uploaded thousands of 1940 photos onto the Municipal Archive — just pick a street, and let the wonders show themselves. Here’s Adams Street, for example.

Years ago, I compiled a fairly comprehensive list, on FNY’s Downtown Brooklyn Street Necrology.

Check out the ForgottenBook, take a look at the gift shop, and as always, “comment…as you see fit.”

2/20/19

Source: https://forgotten-ny.com/2019/02/hagstrom-brooklyn-1922/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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kacydeneen · 7 years ago

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Rainbows, Floats to Descend on DC for Capital Pride Parade

The Capital Pride Parade is set to make Dupont Circle awash with rainbow colors and draw crowds of revelers celebrating D.C.'s vibrant LGBTQ+ community.

The parade is set to kick of at 4:30 p.m. at the intersection of 22nd and P Streets NW.

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More than 200 contingents featuring floats, marchers, entertainment and even a bus carrying the NBC4 team will snake along parts of New Hampshire Avenue, R Street, 17th Street, P Street and 14th Street. The parade is scheduled to end about 7:30 p.m. at the corner of R and 14th Streets NW.

Meanwhile, celebrants are also gathering for local pride parades in Boston and Los Angeles.

Taliban Announce Cease-Fire Over Eid Holiday for 1st Time

The Capital Pride Parade will be led by Grand Marshals Judy and Dennis Shepard, the parents of Matthew Shepard, a gay college student who was abducted and killed in Laramie, Wyoming, in 1998. Since his death, his parents have become advocates for LGBTQ+ rights.

"For the past two decades we have tried to create a legacy not only for our son, but for all those without a voice who experience hate and discrimination, especially those individuals more marginalized in our community yet more impacted by hate violence," the Shepards said.

Warriors Sweep Cavaliers, Win NBA Championship

The parade is a rain or shine event, organizers say, and you can expect rain and even thunderstorms. Storm clouds will move into D.C. in the afternoon and are forecast to stick around through the parade.

Due to crowds, street closures and parking restrictions, it's advisable to take Metro. The Dupont Circle station is near the parade's starting point and the U Street station is near the end. The Foggy Bottom-GWU, Farragut North and West, McPherson Square and Shaw-Howard stations are also within a mile of the parade route.

Metro will operate on a regular schedule Saturday, with a few exceptions. The Vienna and Dunn Loring stations are closed for maintenance and the Red Line will be single tracking after 10 p.m.

The event is expected to draw thousands of attendees, so spectators are encouraged to stake out their spots along the parade route early.

It also may attract some protesters.

A group called "No Justice, No Pride" has criticized Pride Parade's sponsors and board, saying they neglect the most marginalized members of the LGBTQ+ community.

"All signs indicate that Capital Pride 2018 will once again celebrate weapons manufacturers, corrupt banks, and police departments, aligning itself with those who profit off of the oppression of the most marginalized members of our communities," the group wrote on their website.

The organization said it was behind a group of protesters who temporarily stopped the last year's parade and forced it to be rerouted.

Ashley Smith, the Capital Pride Alliance board president, said their organization has been warned that protesters may disrupt the parade this year.

"We also feel very strongly that everyone has their right to free expression, but believe that it is through dialogue and an exchange of different viewpoints," Smith said in a statement. "Not disruption of our community gathering in pride as we do each June and in protest as we have been in the current hostile political environment."

Smith said it's within police jurisdiction to respond to anyone blocking the parade and asked attendees to avoid conflict.

Open containers of alcohol and marijuana use are not allowed, organizers reminded the public.

An official Capital Pride block party with DJs, food trucks and drinks will run from 4:30 p.m. to 10 p.m. on 15th Street between P and Church Streets.

Photo Credit: John Lamparski/WireImage/Getty, File Rainbows, Floats to Descend on DC for Capital Pride Parade published first on Miami News

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ovaloffices06 · 2 years ago

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Virtual Offices Near Me

Oval Offices DC is committed to getting the private office right. Quality, rental pricing transparency, and real flexibility – on your terms. Oval Offices DC is here with flexible options. We’ll always put your business and your well-being first. 800 Connecticut Avenue NW is also home to Teaism. Your new office is one block from the Farragut West Metrorail station. Garage parking with elevator access is available.

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flatcircleblog-blog · 7 years ago

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Saturday was a good day to be a mail carrier in West Philadelphia. You could walk from block-to-block and listen as a wealth of music enlivened city streets on a muggy summer day. The 2018 West Philly Porchfest was in full swing and the City of Brotherly Love sounded great.

The West Philly Porchfest began in 2016. The free neighborhood festival is a unique event that promotes music and community. West Philadelphia residents allow a band to play on their front porches. Neighbors and visitors can traverse a small area in West Philadelphia and watch an amazing group of local artists. There were times yesterday when I did not even have to take a single step to hear different types of music.

Even though the festival is only two years old, it has grown exponentially in that time. In 2016, the West Philly Porchfest hosted 75 bands. 150 groups were booked in 2017.

A member of the Red Rose Combo sings at the 2018 West Philly Porchfest

Despite the Roots Picnic also occurring on the same day, the festival received a good turnout. Most houses saw at least a small gathering outside of their front porch. Others had a few dozen people.

Near the intersection of Farragut Terrace and Springfield Avenue a small jazz ensemble, a youth music program, and the St. Francis De Sales church choir were all performing in different spots. You could stand in the intersection and be hit with jazz, church music, and even a touch of classical music at the same time.

The choir singing on the steps of St. Francis De Sales church was flanked by the jazz ensemble Red Rose Combo and the youth organization Play On, Philly! The Red Rose Combo played music from the likes of Norah Jones and George Gershwin. Their rendition of the composer’s “Summertime” could not have been a more perfect selection on a humid day.

Play On, Philly! at the 2018 West Philly Porchfest

Play On, Philly! dropped an array of music that included reggae and New Orleans jazz. The range of the young musicians was impressive. Not only did they excel at making Springfield Avenue swing, but they even slowed down the pace of the afternoon and played a beautiful classical piece.

They were not alone in their artistry. Over on the 4700 block of Warrington Avenue the group Bitters & Rye strung together a wonderful set of Jazz Age songs. From that location I heard some Chicago Blues and jazz emanating from Baltimore Avenue and wandered in that direction. In another cool moment, I took in those performers and watched the West Philadelphia Mennonite Fellowship Theology singing in front of Calvary Church.

Members of the jazz group Bitters & Rye at the 2018 West Philadelphia Porchfest

In each instance, there was just enough space to enjoy the performers near you, but close enough to be tempted by the next group. Even on the return to my car a guy was playing acoustic guitar on his front porch.

While I mostly saw jazz groups, other scheduled participants included an R.E.M. tribute band, indie rock, folk, and black metal. Other artists strewn across West Philadelphia included Wookiedelphia (a Star Wars-inspired jazz band) and the rock ‘n roll outfit Urethra Franklin.

The free-flowing nature of the day was best described by musician Josh Machiz, who just listed “we’ll see” underneath his style on the festival’s website.

The West Philly Porchfest is one of the most fun things that I have experienced in Philadelphia. I was expecting cover bands and a typical street festival, but this was much more enjoyable. With so many musicians playing on front porches and crowds gathered near each house or church, it felt like everyone loved just taking part in a fun festival and was able to enjoy a laid-back afternoon. Just strolling through the area and absorbing the atmosphere gave me a great appreciation of community.

This was the first time that I have gone to the West Philly Porchfest. It will not be my last.

Thank you to Jean Lemke of the bands Jean Therapy and Red Rose Combo for tipping me off about the West Philly Porchfest.

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The 2018 West Philly Porchfest Saturday was a good day to be a mail carrier in West Philadelphia. You could walk from block-to-block and listen as a wealth of music enlivened city streets on a muggy summer day.

#Music #Music Blog #Philadelphia #West Philly Porchfest

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novyknowschicago · 7 years ago

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Chester Jakala and Joshua Novy proudly present-

$155,000 <h3>2408 West Farragut Avenue #1A Chicago, IL 60625</h3>

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Amazing 2 bedroom 1 bath in the heart of Lincoln Square. Please contact me for more info! Chester Jakala and Joshua Novy proudly present- $155,000 <h3>2408 West Farragut Avenue #1A Chicago, IL 60625</h3>

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vidovation · 7 years ago

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“Advances in Wireless Video” SMPTE DC Section Meeting by Jim Jachetta - VidOvation Blog

SMPTE DC Section Meeting – February 15th, 2018

I am looking forward to speaking on “Advances in Wireless Video” at the SMPTE Washington DC Section Meeting on Thursday, February 15th.

Location:

NAB Headquarters 1771 N Street, NW Washington, DC 20036 USA See map: Google Maps

Event Details:

7:00 pm Social, networking and refreshments (sponsored by Vidovation)

7:30 pm Presentation

PRESENTER:

Jim Jachetta, EVP of Engineering and CTO, Vidovation

PROGRAM:

Advances in Wireless VideoThe technical director of A&E’s live reality show “Live PD”

VidOvation Live PD Control Room

faced several technical issues. One major challenge was how to cost-effectively produce a lie cop show in six cities simultaneously using up to 41 cameras. The show is a REMI (Remote Integration Model) production, where every camera is home run from each police vehicle to A&E master control in New York. All cameras must be in perfect genlock synchronization and have perfect audio and video lip-sync because there is no time in a live broadcast to correct synchronization issues.

In this presentation, we’ll dive into details behind the video transmission solution from VidOvation and AVIWEST that solved this unique technical challenge. Learn about AVIWEST’s SafeStreams technology, with advanced forward error correction, that automatically re-requests dropped packets and uses bonding techniques, precise timing, and adaptive bitrate encoding over bonded cellular and the public internet.

Time permitting, we will also discuss new developments in wireless technology that

Fiber Optic Extender for AB512 Wireless Video System

facilitate broadcast-quality transmission up to 3 kilometers with only 7 milliseconds of latency. A unique combination of adaptive modulation and a highly adaptive H.264 codec enable reduced latency and increased picture quality in wireless video transmission.

In an effort to better predict turnout we are now using Eventbrite for monthly meetings. If you expect to attend please register. There is no obligation, and unregistered walk-ins are still welcome, but this will help us gauge room size and refreshment orders in advance.

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/smpte-dc-section-february-2018-meeting-registration-41723965504

DIRECTIONS:

The NAB building is at the junction of N Street, 18th Street, and Connecticut Avenue, just south of DuPont Circle. There is street parking on many blocks in the vicinity – check signs and meters for hours! The closest Metro stops are DuPont Circle (Red line – two blocks) and Farragut West (Orange/Blue lines – four blocks)

Last Updated Sunday, January 28, 2018

The post “Advances in Wireless Video” SMPTE DC Section Meeting by Jim Jachetta appeared first on VidOvation Blog.

from VidOvation Blog http://vidovation.com/blog/advances-wireless-video-smpte-dc-section/?source=rss

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rtirman-blog · 7 years ago

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6 Intro to Linden Blvd

The Day of Infamy, the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941, I was 5 years old. I have no recollection of that moment in history. It was not long after that when we moved to 264 Linden Boulevard.

The war changed things- meatless Tuesdays, air raid drills, a Rosie-the-Riveter mother, stealing from the 5-and-10 (Woolworths), smoking cigars, and playing hooky from school. I suppose I can’t blame the war for my stealing, smoking, and skipping school… that would take a good lawyer. However, when I tell you about me in those days, you would have to conclude that something was going wrong within me or within my life or both.

The effort to beat the Germans and Japs reached our household. Mother went to work at Sperry’s assembling airplanes for the war. (I am assuming she was working on planes- I suppose it could have been tanks or jeeps). Nonetheless, whatever she did, she was probably good at doing it. She was someone whose talents I always admired. Anything she put her mind to doing got done, and done as well as any professional could do it. Although I had very little knowledge of all her achievements, what I witnessed was enough. Perhaps I am guilty of putting a halo over her head because I was actually most proud of her looks- she was real pretty. I guess that is what is meant by the “halo affect”

By this time in my life, as I’ve told you, I was officially a bed-wetter. For sure, this put me at odds with my mother, even if screaming on a street corner wasn’t doing the job. A wet bed really “pissed her off”. She was not fun when she got angry. She would scream, yell, and sometimes hit, which was not a crime in those days. Besides, her anger always seemed justified to me. If I got yelled at, or hit, I deserved it.

One morning, when we were living on Linden Blvd, I awoke very early before anyone else in our apartment was awake. I had wet the bed. Quickly, I pulled the sheet off the bed, and put a clean one on it. Not smart! This led to double trouble. Not only was the original sheet wet and reeking from urine, the new sheet got just as wet and smelly as the original sheet. The mattress was soaked through. Putting the new sheet on the bed was akin to putting a blotter on a puddle of ink. So I ended up getting slapped for wetting the bed and for being stupid.

I’m certain Daddy didn’t agree with how she handled things. I would like to think he would have intervened in that bed-wetting incident, but that’s impossible- he wasn’t there. I think he was in the Army.

Today, as I look back, it’s interesting to me how I viewed Brooklyn through a self-devised map. As I saw it, Flatbush Avenue ran north and south. Basically, on the east side of Flatbush Avenue, Bedford, Rogers, Nostrand, New York, and Utica Avenues ran parallel to it. On the west side of Flatbush Avenue, the parallel streets are Ocean Avenue and Ocean Parkway. All the Avenues from D to N ran perpendicular to Flatbush. Also, Linden Boulevard, Farragut Road, Church Street, Ditmas Avenue, Dorchester Road, Foster Avenue, and Clarendon Road ran perpendicular to Flatbush. It isn’t a perfect grid because some of those “parallel” streets curve and even cross. The Flatbush-Nostrand Junction is a good example. Even Flatbush Avenue started going southeast below Avenue D. But when I was little, it’s how things appeared to me in my immediate neighborhood. It helped me not feel lost and to know how to get home.

Brooklyn has far more than the Flatbush area. There are well known neighborhoods that I would only be able to tell you where I think they are located. Greenpoint, Williamsburg, Bay Ridge, Bensonhurst, Brownsburg, Flatlands, Canarsie, Coney Island, Marine Park, are some of the areas in Brooklyn that I can think of. Excluding Coney Island, if I’ve been to any of them more than three times in my life, that would surprise me.

At six years of age, living on Linden Boulevard, going east, Utica Avenue was about as far as I would dare to go. It was as if it was the edge of the world. Westward, Linden Boulevard ended at Flatbush Avenue. So for all practical purposes, there was “foreign” land to the west of Flatbush Avenue. Going north on Flatbush would get me to Prospect Park, the Botanical Gardens, The Grand Army Plaza, and to the Manhattan Bridge, as well as Borough Hall and Brooklyn Heights. Going south on Flatbush you would eventually be on an old cobblestone road, built during the depression by the WPA. Flatbush eventually goes over the Rockaway Bridge to Riis (pronounced Reese) Park, a beach where the water had waves. Riis Park is not part of Brooklyn. It is actually a part of Queens that swings south around Brooklyn. Coney Island was fun because there were lots of carnival entertainment places – Steeplechase, Luna Park, The Wonder Wheel, the Cyclone roller coaster, and lots of other stuff. But there were so many jetties that the water between them was as calm as a swimming pool. No one rode waves at Coney Island- there were none. On the other hand, Riis Park had waves to challenge all swimmers- but no rides.

That’s enough of this geography lesson. Most readers could care less. But writing all that down, however inaccurate as it may be, helps me to recall lots of experiences in my life. Also, as I said before, it kept me from feeling lost,

I’m pretty sure our address was 264 Linden Boulevard. It was a 4-story apartment building on the south side of the street. It was close to the corner of Nostrand Avenue. The apartment was on the second floor. I can remember only one time when both mother and Daddy were there together in that apartment.

I stole 5 bucks ($5) from Daddy, went to the 5 and 10 (Woolworth’s), and bought myself an American Flag, a drum, and drumsticks. What comes next is insight into how brilliant I was as a youngster. To not get caught, I hid my purchases behind my parents’ bedroom door. I don’t know what I was thinking. I suppose I thought they would never go into their bedroom again or, if they did, they would not shut the door. Naturally, none of that happened. They discovered the goods rather quickly, and they pinned it on me in an instant.

Next thing I knew, my mother dragged me to the 5 and10. I had to tell the manager of the store about stealing the money from my parents to buy my patriotic purchases, and to request a refund in exchange for the returned, unused merchandise. I also had to apologize to my mother in front of the manager. The manager made the exchange with a brief lecture.

Looking back at that incident today, my first thought was that the manager went along with it because he didn’t want to have to deal with my mother. However, the thought does occur to me the manager might have been trying to make points with my mother. Remember I told you how beautiful she was. However, $5 was quite a sum to most people trying to make a living during the war. He may have had instant compassion for my mother and our family, who might have to “go without” because of a little patriotic, brat-thief.

In my memory, my father was not involved one iota in correcting the situation I created… my mother did it all. It seems to me, disciplining his children was not part of my father’s concept of “fatherhood”. That doesn’t mean he didn’t do anything to keep me, and my brothers, on the right track. I would never have consciously done anything that would have hurt or embarrassed my dad. That certainly would help keep me on the “straight-and-narrow”. However, when you think about my judgement from birth to 18, it speaks to the notion that my father wasn’t a disciplinarian.

My mother’s corrective actions, more uncomfortable as they may have been, would probably lead me up the same path. From today’s perspective, both parents helped me and my brothers grow up with a sufficient sense of guilt and shame.

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