Since joining The Inquirer as a staff writer in 1988, Daniel Rubin has reported from 27 countries, but most of them were small. He's been the European Correspondent for Knight Ridder Newspapers, based in Berlin, and a metro reporter and feature writer for the paper. He started the Inquirer's first daily blog, Blinq, which he still maintains. Dan began newspaper work in Norfolk and Louisville, Ky., after getting his undergraduate and graduate degrees from Northwestern University. He has lived in all four commonwealths, most recently in Pennsylvania, with his wife, twin teenage sons and a large, slobbering cowherd.
His column appears Mondays and Thursdays in Local & Region.
His column appears Mondays and Thursdays in Local & Region.
- U.S. cites Mendte's pattern of intrusion
- Information from the federal charge (.pdf)
- Complete coverage of Alycia Lane and Larry Mendte
If we could now turn to Jan. 3, 2008, in the secret life of Larry Mendte.
10:57 a.m. It is a major news day - the Iowa caucuses and the start of the presidential race.
The dinosaurs gathered last weekend at Mermaid Lake. Some of the wags in attendance - actually, only wags were in attendance - described the Old Inquirer picnic as a cross between speed-dating and a 40th-year reunion.
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Ask Det Ansinn to describe where he lives and the president of Doylestown's Borough Council talks of "our little Norman Rockwell painting."
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Afterward, as he shivered in the salt air and begged to go back in, John Gregory described his epic battle this way:
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Surely the actuaries at Allstate miscalculated last week when they declared Philadelphians the most dangerous big-city drivers. You could check the numbers - we wreck every 6.6 years, they say, which is 50 percent higher than the national average.
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Forty minutes into his master class, Leonard Nelson Hubbard still hasn't picked up his bass. Instead, he's pulling more pearls from his leather-bound journal, lessons learned from 15 years on the road with the Roots, the Grammy-winning Philadelphia hip-hop band he left last year.
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Some memories from that day are so clear, 63 years later, that Ernie Dubay can still hear them. The buzz in his barracks as sailors switched into their dress blues. The shuffle of feet as he clamored out of the Seventh Avenue subway and headed for the party of his life.
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You might not want to slog through the 1,000 pages of regulations, cost estimates, commentaries and impact statements the government released last week in proposing revisions to the Americans With Disabilities Act.
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The braying started just before Broad and Pattison, some clown in a backward Boston ball cap and an over-stuffed Big Papi jersey chanting on the subway:
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How do you grab high school students' attention two days before the final bell? You bring in the scar-faced, shotgun-toting, duster-wearing, gay vigilante who tormented Baltimore drug dealers on HBO's The Wire.
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He has been home from college for three weeks now, but we've barely seen him. Around dawn we'll hear feet padding up the stairs as an opened MacBook lights the way. We're not sure what he does all night, but it involves a lot of quiet, furious keyboarding.
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You can understand why a corporation moving its headquarters to Center City would want to announce its arrival by putting its name in lights.
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