Scott McAfee, the cello-playing, What-A-Man-pageant-winning judge presiding over the only televised Trump trial, wants to avoid becoming “the next Judge Ito.”
Leslie Hamilton, an accountant, battled sea lice and rusting garbage barges as she became the first person on record to swim a lap around Staten Island since 1979.
One of the late, great barman’s best customers, Liam Neeson, presided from a “fecking” sickbed upstairs as drinkers toasted the guy who’d served Jodie Foster, Ralph Fiennes, Bono, Joe Torre, and Bette Davis.
Days after the city bid farewell to its “last pay phone” with much hoopla, one sleuth reported on several remaining phone booths—by making calls from said phone booths.
The two friends discuss their new documentary, “We Feed People,” and how the chef’s World Central Kitchen has served twenty million hot meals to displaced Ukrainians since February.
Two urban Shackletons braved the elements for a clandestine, moonlit canoe excursion down each of the Park’s waterways, from the Harlem Meer in the north to the Pond in the south, dodging the police and “Star Wars” reënactors along the way.
Bill Bradley, a staid member of the rarefied (the Rhodes Scholarship), the very rarefied (the U.S. Senate), and the super-rarefied (the Knicks’ two championship teams), premières his autobiographical one-man Broadway show, “Rolling Along.â€
When COVID sidelined cast and crew of “American Utopia,†Byrne offered ticket holders a refund or the option to attend a reimagined performance with whatever cast members could cook up in a few days.
Owsley Stanley, the legendary Grateful Dead soundman and LSD chemist, left behind thirteen hundred reels of live recordings from his sonic laboratory, including a newly released recording of the night Johnny Cash came to town.
WPKN-FM—on which you can hear a Stevie Wonder song performed by an all-women jazz septet or twenty minutes of Tuvan throat singing—moves to a new location in downtown Bridgeport, Connecticut.