December 9, 1994 |
Stuffed into a shirt and tie and sitting before a partially eaten sandwich oozing with gobs of chicken cheesesteak, Dave Nast recounted what he hopes is his rise to pre-stardom. "This is going to sound corny," the singer-songwriter-guitarist warned as he began telling of his quest to launch a musical career. This from a guy whose debut CD jacket is an ode to his tank-topped chest and bulging muscles, backed by a hologram blonde and a white Porsche? He's the same guy who drives around town in a Camaro with a vanity plate that reads "D-Nasty," the one who counts as his influences the unlikely combination of Richard Marx, Bon Jovi, Sting and Prince.
June 3, 1994 |
Last year, Porsche sold 3,800 cars in this country. That's little more than 10 percent of its 1985 high-water mark. There were some good reasons for the German automaker's saying bye-bye to most of its American pie. "During the late '80s and early '90s, we experienced a rapidly strengthening deutsche mark," recalled Fred Schwab, the president of Porsche North America. "It doubled the price of our cars here. And we didn't have the new product" to scare up more sales. It's also true that Porsche, like the other German car companies, had allowed its manufacturing costs to get out of control.
November 8, 1993 |
Delaware Avenue, move over. Cherry Hill is threatening to burst onto the dance floor with an all-under- one-roof night-club complex. Right there on Route 70, where that trendy nightspot named after former 76er Rick Mahorn has been for two and a half years. It's got a new owner, and it's about to get a new look. Or perhaps we should call it an olde look. Because Mahorn's - the rocking joint where bouncers began using metal detectors to check the guests after a murder in the parking lot in 1992 - is set to become an over-30 night club called Klub Excalibur.
January 2, 1992 |
With Gov. Bill Clinton and just about every other presidential aspirant riding to the rescue of the middle class, a fair question arises: Which middle class? As recently as 10 years ago, most Americans shared a pretty clear image of what life in the middle class looked like: Mom and Dad and Sis and Bud in a nice tract house on Elm Street, a Chevy or a Ford in the driveway, a barbecue in the back yard, a washer and a dryer in the basement and a street filled with kids. That snapshot, so clear, simple and powerful, represented what social analyst Ralph Whitehead calls the "expanding middle class" that burst out after World War II and grew until the early 1970s.
November 26, 1991 |
Pam Shriver, president of the Women's Tennis Association, was discussing whether life on the road for female players will change in the aftermath of Magic Johnson's disclosure that he has the AIDS virus. "There's a big difference between men and women (players) when they travel," said Shriver, 29. "A lot of women are much younger than (professional) guys 21 to 30. Most of us have guy coaches. The chances for date opportunities would be greater if we didn't travel with a guy. They're always around.
September 30, 1991 |
I would guess that a large body of the people who followed the musical career of Miles Davis over the last 4 1/2 decades believed they were involved in a love-hate relationship, when all the time it may have been a cosmic bait- and-switch game. Just when we - oh, I was one of them - had made up our minds to buy Miles Davis' music as the siren song of a genius, he would jerk the cord and disappear into something utterly different that sounded to us like Muzak From Hell. Miles would alibi that he could never hark back to his old music, even for a momentary retrospective, because it bored him. And just when we'd begun to think we had detected a glimmer of merit peeping out of his new product, by George, he would pull the old Lucy-with-the-football trick again.
April 24, 1991 |
As a smart kid growing up in West Oak Lane, he was known as "Reds" for his hair and "the menace," after the mischievous Dennis of the comic strips. Years later, as a roguish Philadelphia defense lawyer, Dennis H. Eisman said the first nickname kept him out of trouble: "I could never do anything crazy. They'd know I did it - the kid with the red hair. " The second nickname, "I don't know if I've lived up to," he said. Yesterday when word of his apparent suicide traveled like electricity through the city's legal community - and in some cases across the country - many friends found it impossible to believe for so spirited a man. "That's not the Dennis I knew," associates said over and over about the incident in which police said Eisman apparently shot himself with his gun inside his silver Porsche in a Center City parking garage.
November 15, 1990 |
"God bless you, Pelle. And pray for us. " - The Rev. John Casey, in eulogy of Pelle Lindbergh at the Spectrum, Nov. 14, 1985 Time has passed, careers and lives have carried on, and what is it we have learned? Whenever Bob Froese opens a newspaper and reads that a fellow athlete has been arrested for drunken driving or has been clocked in his sports car on a dark interstate at 120 mph - whenever he is confronted with the eerie spectacle of history repeating itself - he asks himself precisely that question and wonders: "How can they forget so easily?"
November 15, 1990 |
Morning practice had ended at The Coliseum sports complex in Voorhees, N.J., and center Ron Sutter sat in the Flyers' locker room with beads of sweat dripping off his chin. While his teammates stripped out of their uniforms and disappeared into the steaming shower room, Sutter wiped his face with a towel and remembered Pelle Lindbergh. "All of us told Pelle that he had better slow down in that car or it would kill him," Sutter said. "Guys were afraid to drive with him. " Sutter shook his head and added with a sad smile: "He was still a kid and kids have got to learn: You drink and drive and you can get dealt some bad cards.
October 12, 1990 |
John W. McPartland Sr., 53, of Folcroft, a longtime Inquirer pressman, union stalwart and classic-car enthusiast, died Tuesday from injuries received in a car accident off Route 13 just south of New Castle, Del. Mr. McPartland, a journeyman pressman who worked at the newspaper for 35 years, was killed along with a passenger, Gisela M. Pama, 48, of New Castle, Del., when his silver 1982 Porsche and a truck collided at 4:42 p.m. Tuesday, said Delaware...