[Sidebar] October 22 - 29, 1998

[Phoenix20]

1981

The Mill Town murders
March 11
Between October 1979 and February 1980, three prostitutes fromFall River were murdered. Maureen Snowden followed the case.

The story is typically convoluted, and not much clearer almost a year and a half after the first murder because only one case has been resolved completely. The second is partially committed to court record, and suspects have been charged with the third. Nonetheless, Robin Murphy stands out as a key figure in all three murders. She has pleaded guilty to her part in the slaying of Karen Marsden, acted as the state's star witness in the trial of Andre Maltais for the murder of Barbara Ann Raposa, and is an alleged witness to the murder of Doreen Levesque that Carl Drew and William Smith have been charged with. For a 20-year-old, that's a significant number of bodies to have put your mark on . . . Like her youthful looking mother before her, Robin is a prostitute, a practice she picked up somewhere around the age of 12 or 13. Perhaps she was recruited by one of Fall River's "Pepsi-Cola" pimps, a brand of pimp particular to that town that hires girls before they reach their teens.

Un-common ground
March 18
Sean McAdam saddled up with Bob Holmes and company when they were setting out for new musical frontiers.

There are people doing strange things inside the loft, I know that much.

As I climb the steps, the strange sounds emitting become more eerie. Inside, six people are huddled around expensive equipment, oblivious to this observer. They are conducting experiments in the night, not with test tubes and lightning rods, but rather with mandolins and Moog synthesizers, pedal steel guitars and Farfisa organs. Known collectively as Rubber Rodeo, these musical mad scientists are trying to find the common ground between, say,Tammy Wynette and, oh, the B-52s.

The funny papers
April 1
April Fool's Day inspired a four-page parody of the ProJo -- the Evening Bull -- which included the following item.

NANCY SUES CIANCY

An out-of-court agreement was reached yesterday between the estate of cartoonist Ernie Bushmiller and Providence Mayor Vincent Cianci.

The Bushmiller estate, in a joint action with the United Feature Syndicate, had sued Cianci for infringing on the copyright of Bushmiller's cartoon creation "Sluggo," a supporting character in the "Nancy" comic strip.

Cianci's lawyers denied that the mayor had intentionally imitated the appearance of the cartoon character. They pointed out that since the litigation began, Cianci has adopted a bushy hair piece to diminish his Sluggo resemblance.

The final settlement reportedly included agreement from the mayor's representatives that Cianci's wig will be surgically attached to his scalp, and a promise that the mayor will no longer have little lightbulbs appear over his head when he gets an idea.

Good times, bad times
April 29
The good news: there was no shortage of entertainment options in the early '80s. The bad news: there was only so much money and so many people to go around. Sean McAdam shed light on Rhode Island after dark.

It happened in major league sports and very nearly ruined it.

Now it hovers over the music scene like an ominous dark cloud. Call it what you will -- expansion, saturation -- but there is something amiss with the business of presenting live music in nightclubs in the Providence area.

On paper, the presence of so many venues should mean good things for clubgoers. More clubs should equal more music for less, at least in theory. Unfortunately, such is not the case.

Instead of a night out, clubgoers are opting to stay home for the evening. More and more retail stores are carrying video equipment, with tapes of everything from rock bands to popular movies available. Subscription TV services have recently entered the Providence area. The cost of gasoline is just one more impediment to going out for one's entertainment.

Fear lives here
July 29
A rash of crimes in a Pawtucket neighborhood triggered some unwelcome changes in a formerly placid way of life. Kim Clark hit the streets.

The woman with the new flower garden has outfitted each of the ground floor windows of her house with black iron bars.

The woman at 87 Spring Street has put a conspicuous day-glo orange and black "Beware of Dog" sign on her front door. She now keeps one of her two Doberman Pinschers in her yard at a time to back up the sign.

Neighbors eye strangers warily, and hold informal meetings on doorsteps to discuss the latest news from police.

Some say they want to move. Others won't.

But all are frightened of the unknown man Pawtucket Police believe to be responsible for the rash of assaults and crimes -- a man the officers assigned to the case have described as "sick" and "psychopathologically perverse."

Epiphany in blue
August 26
Bob Angell's jaw dropped straight to the ground when he heard a young guitarist from Texas who was making his first foray into the Northeast.

That does it! I'm taking up the damn tuba. For I have seen, twice in the last weekend, the incomparable guitar genius of six-string magician Stevie Ray Vaughan. And I'm a believer.

Indeed, he may yet prove to be the finest electric guitar player now working anywhere. He cuts Buddy Guy's ass. And Albert "Ice Picker" Collins squirms uncomfortably under Vaughan's musical thumb . . . He stands in no one's shadow -- handling Otis Rush complexities and Hubert Sumlin-derived arrogant meanderings handily. And he's one of the very few string-wigglers alive who dares tackle the Hendrix catalogue with astonishing facility, breathing life into tunes long since laid in their graves by the legion of Jimi clones.

Pie in the sky
October 14
The lottery was seven years old when John Rufo interviewed its deputy director, Ray Grimes.

There are those who play the lottery because it's good sport. Others buy tickets because they don't feel like waiting for that 50 cents or $1 worth of change at the gas station or milk store. Some play it as a daily lark, and others as a daily ritual.

Whatever the reason, last year Rhode Islanders spent more than $36 million on lottery tickets, the largest amount in the state's history. "I think everyone knows they're shooting for the stars," Lottery deputy director Ray Grimes observed, adding, "where else can you buy a dream for 50 cents?"

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