Suddenly.
The first word of Earl Giberson's obituary on Page 29 of the December 29, 1961 edition of The Philadelphia Bulletin said it all.
As in, Suddenly, Earl Giberson was taken away from his family, his daughter, his friends.
Contestants, you've made it this far. We're not going to announce a second or first runner up, but if these selected winners cannot fulfill their duties as Miss Best of Penn, others will have to assume the role.
Cities are lonely. Philadelphia is no exception. Maybe you want to do something about it?
Maybe, alone with the night, passing under silent, blacked-out townhouse windows in certain parts of Center City, aching for companionship, for the illusion of a relationship, for someone to slap on some long black latex gloves and fill the holes in your soul, you discreetly turn some money into a few hours with a beautiful person experienced at keeping the darkness away.
Or maybe you want hard, quick, raw sex.
It's the time of year when mysteries, legends and myths run rampant. Spooky stories are great for around the campfire, but when mystery and myth surround an institute year round, rumors and legends become truths.
Philadelphia has some truly hidden treasures, and among them is the Insectarium. Started in 1992 by the good folks at Steve's Bug-Off, the Insectarium is Northeast Philadelphia's own paean to all things insect.
It's a little past 5 p.m., and Houston Market is starting to fill up with a dinner crowd. Chris, a Penn graduate student, is dressed in a button-down blue collared shirt, baggy jeans and a worn-in Adidas baseball cap.
George McMahon smokes ten joints a day, over a quarter ounce of marijuana. The street value of that amount of marijuana is over $100, but since 1992, McMahon has been getting it for free.
When talk about a new stadium for Philadelphia first came up in the mid-90's, conventional wisdom was that the city would build a new stadium for Major League Baseball's Philadelphia Phillies, leaving the Eagles to play in a renovated Veterans Stadium.
"You guys fucked up? I'm way ahead of you." Aaron Karo's words set the pace for an evening in which the bartenders served up the most interesting entertainment.
The word 'beautiful' is on everyone's lips at Vesuvio. But owner Michael Anthony D'Adessi's phrase "It's a beautiful thing" couldn't be overused - it's the best way to describe this elegant, but relaxed, family owned Italian restaurant.
Against an afternoon canvas of a gray sky, each store in the strip at 47th and Spruce streets bleeds into the next -- College Laundromat into Productos mexicanos y sudamericanos into Fast Printing into Penn Pizza and Restaurant.
This is the third annual literary contest, run by 34th Street in conjunction with Penn Review Literary Magazine. We received a high number of strong submissions this year in both poetry and prose.
It's around three o'clock Monday afternoon in the Palladium. It's dark, with light coming in through the half-open curtains, illuminating the dust that comes off of every crevice of the old, wooden interior.
The dining room is closed and of the six bar stools, four are vacant, as are two of the three couches, but the conversation rages on.
Late on a Tuesday afternoon, the doorbell rings. Through the peephole are two college-aged men dressed in slacks, short-sleeve white button down shirts and ties.
After waiting in the conference room of The Four Seasons for twenty minutes, anxious to meet the most famous person I have ever met to date (but trying to play it cool), Matt Damon finally arrives.