Photo by PoPville flickr user annejuliet

The following was written by PoP contributor Eric Nuzum. You can read Eric’s previous contributions here.

Perhaps I’ve just been too busy with diaper-changing duties for the amazing tiny human being that my wife and I welcomed on Christmas Day, but this news somehow got passed me for awhile. In January, concert megaenormopus Live Nation quietly changed the name of their amphitheater in Bristow, Virginia, the venue formerly known as Nissan Pavilion.

I was driving down the road last week when I heard a radio announcement for an upcoming show there and said out loud to myself, “Did they just say what I think they just said?”

They did.

When I got home, looked it up and learned that Nissan Pavilion is now known as (if this is news to you, please brace yourself):

Jiffy Lube Live.

Yes, you read that correctly. Greater Washington’s largest rock concert venue is now known as Jiffy Lube Live.

It’s such a jawdroppingly ridiculous idea that it almost zaps all the joy out of making fun of the name. I mean, there are probably no two words in the English language with less rock-n-roll cred than “jiffy” and “lube.”

And if that weren’t enough, they somehow decided to “jazz things up” a bit by adding “Live” at the end, as if simply naming the place “Jiffy Lube” wouldn’t do (though that might confuse people who want to go to an actual Jiffy Lube). Some consultant wearing a $200 tie thought the addition of “Live” at the end of “Jiffy Lube” would somehow make it more exciting. I mean, you wouldn’t want to end up with some unexciting name like, say, Nissan Pavilion or Verizon Center or anything.

But most shocking of all is that Live Nation made this change just a few weeks before the Justice Department ruled on anti-trust concerns over their merger with Ticketmaster. If word of this had spread before Justice gave the okay, I’m sure this would have scuttled the deal. Even the most ardent free market zealot has to admit there are some cases where The Man can have too much unchecked power–like the power to call a rock venue Jiffy Lube Live.  Continues after the jump. Read Full Post

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The following was written by guest contributor Fritz Hubig

With Green building seeing measurable growth across the region, the Regan family found a novel way of meeting their own growing needs, picking up a bit of history, and saving a great lot, complete with small rancher house, in the process.

After a lengthy search for a local contractor to do their “dream green” renovation, Jenni Regan and her husband were nearly ready to give up. Contractor after contractor interviewed proceeded to tell her that the design features she wanted, including ceiling-height wraparound windows, would be impossible to do in an energy-efficient way. As a successful business owner, Jenni doesn’t settle for “not possible.” Most contractors had no vision or experience in innovative and high-performance home renovations. To the Regans, there were also signs and indications of “Greenwashing,” or misrepresention of the proposed renovations, as eco-friendly.

When all seemed lost, a chance business contact connected the Regans with John Spears, President of Sustainable Design Group, who has 30 years of extensive sustainability design experience. Continues after the jump. Read Full Post

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A recent Rental Option post provoked a lot of discussion about the Woodner, located at 3636 16th St, NW. A resident wrote in asking to share his experiences (both good and bad). The history is quite interesting. Tony writes:

“I hear people get raped and mugged in that building all the time.”

“I hear the entire place has bedbugs.”

“Aren’t you afraid for your safety there?”

I’ve heard all of the above when I talk about life in the Woodner, a massive apartment complex with its own bar, grocery store, dry cleaner, and hair salon. People look at me with a strange mix of pity and bemusement. They usually following those questions with this one: How did you end up there?

I was in the process of moving back to the District from the suburbs and had seen at least fifteen apartments already. I was short on time. One of the sales consultants at the Woodner, a fresh faced kid with Dixie in his voice, must have sensed this and after viewing a few units, I settled on a carpeted unit on the 12th floor. One of the other sales associates later told me over a drink at the downstairs bar that he (along with the entire sales staff) got shuttled in and out of town in six week intervals. Oh, the things I learn in that bar.

The Woodner was built as an apartment and hotel in 1952. The sales staff here is fond of saying that it was the largest air conditioned building in the world when it was constructed. The lobby looks like it hasn’t been renovated since. Cracked marble floors spread out in odd curves and patterns. The first floor has pictures of this place in all of its former splendor. Black and white photos of Bob Hope and Duke Ellington and Jayne Mansfield. My favorite one is that of a guy with a pervy smile on his face getting shot with fake pistols by a gaggle of women crowded around him dressed as cowboys. I swear to God, when I move from here, that picture’s coming with me. Everything, the hall of pictures, the cracked marble, the spiral staircases, the swirls of spackle on the ceiling, it all imparts a sense of deep history to the place. Makes you wonder about your surroundings. Who stayed in my apartment? Was it ever anybody famous? What were their lives like? Did they have kids? What were their hopes and dreams and fears as they slept under the same roof that I sleep now?

Odd sirens and alarms wake you out of your reverie. It’s common to come home and see multiple police cars parked in front of the building. We never find out why, except under the most grave of circumstances, like when Nori Amaya, co-owner of Coppi’s Organic Restaurant was strangled to death last November. Management informed everyone with a flyer near the elevator banks on each floor. The crime is still unsolved. It’s a bizarre thought, to think that you could be sharing an elevator with a murderer.

And yet, the residents here are resilient. Given the building’s reputation, you’d expect the residents here to be hard-edged but the thing that amazed and continues to amaze me is how much nicer the people are here than they ever were out in the suburbs. When I first moved in, one of my neighbors helped me move my mattress. We talked for a bit about her job and my job and how long she’d been living in the building. Our conversation lasted three minutes and yet that was two minutes longer than the sum of all of my conversations with all of my neighbors in Fairfax.

Because of the kindness of so many of the residents, It’s hard not to feel a kinship with every resident of the building, one borne out of the sheer exhilaration of so many lives pressed up close to one another. Some of us have just arrived, some of us have been here for years. One night coming home from work, I met a woman on the elevator who’d been living in the building for fifty years now. “This was a nice building back then,” she said, shaking her head. “It still is,” she continued quietly. “But not as nice as it used to be.”

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Photo by PoPville flickr user AWard Tour

Reuben last shared some poems with us back in August. The following commentary originally aired on WAMU’s “Metro Connection” and covers an encounter Reuben had with a former junior high school classmate.

He writes:

“I happened upon a former junior high school classmate in a long, extremely slow, grocery store “express” line recently. I hadn’t seen him since the early ’70’s, when he was known as one of the toughest young men in my Northwest Washington neighborhood.In fact, I have an indelible image of -well, let’s call him Harvey, punching out a kid in front of the old Kennedy Theater. In those fisticuff and street gang -laden days, life was considerably easier if you were friends with someone like Harvey-less so if you were not. I fell somewhere in the middle.

But here was the once notorious “Little Harvey”, alternately doting on his adorable young daughter-(who was engrossed in her Reese’s Peanut butter cup) -and discussing a Who’s Who” of neighborhood terrors with me.. These guys all had one sobering thing in common-they were all dead, and they were guys I played sandlot ball with. Some of them made their way into poems I read in countries they never got the chance to see.

Thinking about the likes of Albert, Rod, Big George and Peanut, was alternately heartwarming and heartbreaking. But what really stopped me in my tracks was something Harvey said about the neighborhood in which I grew up. “Those were nice houses”- he noted, before wheeling his grocery cart toward the parking lot, “But there were a lot of rough people in them.” He was right.

Later that evening, I sat down with a pen and paper. I wrote down the name of every playmate, neighbor, or former classmate who died before the age of 30. The final tally? 18. Shootings. Stabbings, Two died of cirrhosis. Two from heroin overdoses. How had I managed to escape? Or block this all mayhem out?

The answer to the first question is simple. My parents. To paraphrase a line from a James Brown classic- “Papa (and Mom, for that matter) didn’t take no mess.” End of story. I also think my lifelong love for music and writing helped. A Lot.

If I could , I’d erect a monument on the Mall for every young’un ( as they say) who found themselves on the wrong end of a bullet, blade, bottle or hypodermic needle. They, too, are casualties in a war that never seems to end- a bloody, and rarely discussed urban quagmire. It’s one thing to read or hear about a homicide on the evening news, another to associate that person with cool, autumn afternoons on the concrete gridiron , or a back alley smile shared over an illegal bottle of wine.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not attempting to romanticize or justify illegal activity. Nor is this an attempt to make me sound like an extra in “West Side Story.” But I think it is important to try and make sense of one’s life-whether said life takes place in Brightwood or Chevy Chase.

I am thankful to have run into Harvey-and not just because he seems to be in a much better place these days. But I never would have thought such a profound reunion possible in a long, slow , grocery store line.”

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Ed. Note: Michael Kiefer from GreenDCRealty will be contributing a monthly column about various aspects of real estate in DC.

GreenSpur Inc.one of Washington’s exciting new green developers recently took on quite possibly one of the more challenging adaptive reuse projects I have seen in years in an effort to demonstrate that “carbon neutral” construction is possible at all levels, even with a dilapidated pre Civil War era home. This adaptive reuse home at 19 4Th St NE being just blocks from the Nation’s Capitol was to be emblematic of the challenges GreenSpur Inc was looking for, however rebuilding of it was the easy part, the real challenges didn’t come about until the layers of DCRA began to unfold.

As most are familiar dealing with local government agencies in large city there are the normal hurdles that one must overcome to get projects up and running and with DCRA the District’s building regulation department is no different, that is until you start proposing elements of sustainability and historical preservation. Preserving the historic makeup of Washington is something we all want to see and be a part of but we seem to be caught in the midst of some conflicts when it comes to proposing some really exciting opportunities to reducing a buildings total life-cycle impact on the environment. DCRA’s primary focus is to make sure that buildings are constructed properly however their knowledge of some fairly mainstream technologies such as geothermal HVAC systems presented this group with a few more challenges.

Greenspur’s president Mark Turner is no stranger to the DC permitting process, he previously worked as Vice President of Construction for Abdo Development. Personally I was surprised when I heard that it took over 6 months, just to acquire a building permit when all you hear is that the Mayor’s office is seeking to find ways of expanding green development and green collar jobs here in the Nation’s Capitol. After acquiring the building permits DCRA proceeded to shut this firms job down twice for lack of permits, which as anyone who has ever attempted to build something in DC knows being shut down does nothing but cost time and money. From my discussions with Turner he mentioned that DCRA finally acknowledged that the proper permits had already been obtained and that it was an internal issue within their department that caused the delay.

Continues after the jump. Read Full Post

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Kalia writes:

“So my company Alion Science and Technology donated wreaths this year to 4 of the major national cemeteries this year. They sent some to Arlington, Alexandria, Annapolis, and DC. It was all volunteer and unlike Arlington, this was the first year for the DC cemetery to lay wreaths for the winter season. This year they donated 100 wreaths to the DC cemetery because they weren’t sure what the turnout would be. 8 of us laid 100 wreaths on the markers on either side of the flagpole on Sat, Dec 12, 2009 at 2pm. Hopefully next year we will be able to get more volunteers and more wreaths!”

I’ll definitely participate and help publicize next year!

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bathroom before

Back in Jan. ‘08 I first spoke to Heather about her house hunt, loans and initial projects. In July ‘08 we saw her sweet kitchen renovation. Heather has recently had the second floor of her row house renovated and has been kind enough to share her experiences. She writes:

PoP did a profile on my renovations when I bought my Columbia Heights rowhouse in 2007. That first six months I put in new floors, an HVAC system, and a full kitchen, as well as numerous small projects (door handles, light fixtures, and gallons of paint aplenty). I took about a year off to save up for the next major project: the second floor.

The previous owner had unsuccessfully tried to flip this house and did numerous travesties to it in the process, the biggest of which was the bathroom. The pictures don’t do it justice — it was usually met to “oh god!”s when viewed for the first time in person. It wasn’t just heinously ugly, either — tiles were missing, the grout was cracking and flaking off, and tub’s wood frame was in extremely poorly built and soaking up water, etc etc etc.

bathroom before

Also, the house had a total of zero closets, unless you count the poorly built extension in the master bedroom. Since the bathroom was enormous for the size of the house, I built the master closet into it, to make a small walk-in closet, and added a closet on the other side of the bathroom, in the second bedroom. (Rooms can’t technically be called “bedrooms” unless they have closets.) Continues after the jump. Read Full Post

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I first met Tim Dennis in August 2008 at the port of Vladivostok, Russia. I had just finished a month-long journey on the Trans-Siberian Railroad. Tim had spent the last several months driving his souped-up Toyota Landcruiser from Britain across Eastern Europe and Siberia on behalf of a charity called StreetKids International. Now he was trying to get to Japan to continue his journey. Between the two of us we were able to negotiate the paperwork to allow us to cross by ferry from Russia to Japan. I got to know Tim better while en route and extended him an open invitation to visit me in Washington, DC should he make it that far.

Now, 16 months later, after crossing the Pacific Ocean by ship, driving across Alaska, crossing the Arctic Circle, and transiting Canada, Tim has finally arrived in DC and taken me up on my offer of hospitality. The second part of his trip will be to the south, driving through North, Central, and South America, with Antarctica as a finish line. His home throughout this epic journey has been the same Toyota Landcruiser, now with over 300,000 miles on it.

Tim’s truck is truly a marvel of modern technology. It’s got an updated suspension system, an external air filter and compressor system, a roof rack, a Kevlar winch five times stronger than steel, and an ingenious fold-out tent on the roof. It also has a shower, a custom-fitted water heater, a rear cooking space, a backup fuel tank, a freezer, a refrigerator, four batteries, and a solar panel on the front hood, as well as dozens of other modifications and enhancements. The exterior is covered in decals from his sponsors and places he’s visited, as well as his mascot: an anthropomorphic rat named Dylan. Tim calls himself the “Rambling Rat.”

Tim was inspired to support StreetKids after seeing their label in a hat he bought. “The more I read about StreetKids, the more I realized that their projects matched some of my personal goals,” says Dennis, “So I decided to use my trip to raise awareness of their efforts.”

StreetKids supports underprivileged youth around the world by giving them training in business skills and health issues, so they can lead healthier and more successful lives. “Many youths supported through StreetKids have developed their own businesses, gotten off the streets, and even used the money they earn to go back to school,” says Dennis. (You can learn more about StreetKids on Tim’s website – www.RamblingRat.com)

Tim has also started his own projects while on his travels, including a youth skateboarding initiative in Canada. “Back in Britain,” says Dennis, “I had a home and my own business, but I didn’t feel like I was getting what I wanted out of life. Now that I’ve sold everything and am traveling to support these projects, I truly feel happier and freer than ever.”

For now, Tim’s enjoying his time in DC. “I really love this city,” he says, “I was surprised to see such lovely architecture and meet such warm, friendly people. Everyone I’ve met here is happy to listen to me talk about StreetKids. And the truck is definitely getting a lot of attention too!”

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[David Garber is a DC neighborhood blogger and real estate entrepreneur. His mission: help bring back DC’s neighborhoods, one rotting house at a time. You can read David's first post here.]

The U Street House is at the center of the photograph, just steps from MLK Ave. In a couple of years, a streetcar stop will be located just left of this intersection.

It’s month two and progress is finally being made. Because I am essentially fixing the shoddy work of a previously-attempted flip, a lot of this initial work is less Crazy Wow That Looks So Different stuff and more invisible and less exciting things: “old” wiring ripped out and new wiring put in, recessed lighting re-aligned, plumbing adjusted and replaced, and window holes measured and cut.

I found some awesome brand new transom windows at Community Forklift that I am using in the back bedroom at eye level. If you’re stranding tall, you will be able to see views out of them, but they’re meant to add a little bit of a modern feel while drawing in dappled sunlight.

There was one hiccup that stalled the project since the last update – the realization that I actually had a few more steps to complete with the bank before I could get the construction money. Although I had been totally approved for the money and the loan was closed on when I purchased the house, the fine print was that I needed to create a draw schedule with my contractor so that the bank had a way to regulate the disbursal of funds. That took a couple weeks to work out: schedule made, opened a new bank account in my LLC’s name, and gave the first big fat check to the contractor.

For those of you interested in how I got the loan in the first place, here are the Cliff’s Notes: approached Washington First Bank – because they are headquartered locally and deal with me like a human rather than a number, pitched my idea and included numbers and neighborhood development narratives, and found both an equity partner and a guarantor for the loan. Banks these days aren’t just giving money on whims, so they make sure to cover all their bases – but I ended up with a construction loan in one of the worst ever recessions. My suggestion – deal with local people. The 1-800 number name-brand banks don’t really care about you or the neighborhoods as much.

The new wiring is pretty gorgeous – neat lines and bright colors. When renovating an old house and are already opening walls and floors (okay, yes, this house essentially a brand new house in an old shell), I recommend redoing all the plumbing and electric if you can afford it. Definitely worth it considering it’s an investment against future nightmares.

Despite the sort-of slowdown, the project is still moving – and some excitingly visible things Are finally happening. From the exterior, the U Street House looks like a complete hodgepodge of stucco styles, and window sizes. It’s a cute little house, but it has some awkward features on the outside that I am going to try to unify through the use of windows, trims, and a new coat of stucco all around.  Continues after the jump. Read Full Post

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You can read Vaughn and Amelia’s first journey here and second journey here.

On Sunday, November 22, after a two-month hiatus, we resumed our trek around the DC border. We stuck to the original boundary, which adheres to Article I, Section 8, Clause 12 of the U.S. Constitution, setting aside a 10 mile square for the nation’s capital (so said one of the historic marker signs, though it seems to actually be Clause 17: http://www.house.gov/house/Constitution/Constitution.html). Having already covered the NE and SE quadrants, this time we found ourselves covering the SW perimeter, technically Virginia these days. The land south of the Potomac used to belong to Virginia, became part of DC following the Revolutionary War, and was returned to Virginia by Congress in 1846.

Because the SW boundary is no longer a DC border, this was not the most “as the crow flies” walk. However, King St. functioned somewhat as our guiding road, as Eastern Ave. did for the NE border and Southern Ave. did in SE.

The trek started out on a decisive high point, as the first stone is tucked in the middle of the retaining seawall of the Jones Point Lighthouse. The stone is much more interesting than the dinky lighthouse, and can either be viewed through a round hole bored through the top of the wall, or by lying on one’s belly, hanging over the edge, and peering at the stone upside down through a gate.

What sets these ten stones apart from the other quadrants is the signage. Virginia loves to surround its boundary stones with signs. Although most of the stones were not in their original locations, had been hit by cars, and/or run over by plows, the plaques for each stone were much better preserved than on our previous two walks. Winning the title of cheesiest sign on the walk and hung next to a stone in a school parking lot, a groan-worthy saying contrasts Arlington’s old limits with its students’ boundless horizons.

Stay tuned for the final quadrant, and a special guest trekker- PoP!

Items of note:

- At a couple points throughout the walk, we saw signs for the Virginia Bird and Wildlife trails. Curiously, the signs feature a picture of a mountain, a bird, and a bear. We ask you: How many wild bears are there in NoVa? And why willingly take a stroll along a path with prominent advertisements for bears?

- Each stone is preserved by a different chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution: Mt. Vernon Chapter, Colonel John Washington Chapter, Keystone Chapter, Dr. Elisha Dick Chapter, Fairfax County Chapter, etc.

- Despite the prolific signage, SW-9 is the only stone that dons an official “National Historic Landmark” marker, although they are all federal monuments. The sign reads, “This site possesses national significance in commemorating the history of the United States of America.” – 1980, Heritage Conservation and Recreation Service, United States Department of the Interior

- This quadrant proved to have the most quaint houses and neighborhoods and didn’t make us play frogger across any highways. However, we did have to walk on a sidewalk set in the median of a busy road, and one of the stones was even set in a median!

By the numbers:

Stones found: All 10!
Times children screamed “Jesus loves you!” out their car window at us: 1
VA Bird and Wildlife Trail signs (with bears on them): 2
Discarded mattresses: 0
American flags on houses: too many to count

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The following is a guest post written by Columbia Heights resident, Jimmy.

Walking west on Columbia Rd, between 14th and 15th streets, I followed the modest sign tucked behind a chain link fence that read “Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Thai Boxing [this way]” to the basement level of Casa del Pueblo. Here I met Nakapan Phungephorn. If ever there was a guy I did not want to meet in a dark alley, Nakapan (or “Nak” for short) was him – and here I was, walking down that dark alley to meet him.

Nak holds a black belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, a brown belt in Judo, is one of the DC area’s few certified Muay Thai instructors, and has fought successfully at the national and international levels in both Muay Thai and Mixed Martial Arts as an amateur and professional. Fortunately for me, Nak is as nice and welcoming as he is decorated.

Nakapan is the founder and one of several highly trained instructors at the BETA Academy Martial Arts studio. Tired of trekking out to Virginia for training, Nak and his wife, Melanie (both DC residents), chose to open their own studio in Columbia Heights for its proximity to metro and bus lines as well as its high level of foot traffic. Their primary vision is for BETA Academy to become the “go to” center for Thai Boxing, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Mixed Martial Arts training in the District. The move is paying off, as business is clearly booming.

Additionally, Nak recognizes the public concern regarding at-risk youth in the neighborhood. Not one to sit on the sidelines, Nak says, “Our ultimate goal is to develop a government funded youth program targeting local at-risk youth. The hope is to get kids off the street and channel their energy into a constructive activity while at the same time instilling character building values such as self-discipline, respect, and self confidence. These values are the core of our growing kids program which we currently offer to the general public at a discounted rate.” Continues after the jump. Read Full Post

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Thanks to Yenni for this special guest post. Looks/sounds delicious!

Since many people on this blog enjoy tasting different cultures through local restaurants, I approached PoP about writing weekly recipes featuring fresh, local ingredients that you can prepare at home. I learned to cook in my Cuban grandmother’s kitchen and have lived in various countries in South America, so Caribbean and Latin food are my specialties.

There is an abundance of beautiful, multi-colored varieties of squash at local groceries and farmers’ markets this time of year. High in Vitamins A, B6, C and potassium, among other essential vitamins and nutrients, squash has a soft texture and wonderfully complements ground beef. This recipe is very versatile; you can use any type of squash or pumpkin, stuff it with the picadillo, which is a Cuban-style ground beef, then bake it in the oven for about an hour.

Pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees and begin to prepare the picadillo with ground beef, one yellow onion, two small seeded tomatoes, one green pepper and five garlic cloves. Using a frying pan lightly coated with olive oil, heat the diced vegetables, – garlic first, followed by the onion, green pepper and tomatoes about five minutes until fragrant. Add some cumin powder, oregano, thyme, pepper and a whole scotch bonnet pepper with the stem cut off and membrane and seeds taken out. Cover this mixture, which is called a “sofrito” used to give seasoning to dishes, and simmer for about 10 minutes on the lowest heat. Meanwhile sprinkle the meat with adobo, turning it to get it all seasoned, then mash the meat into the sofrito and add the autumn spices which will enhance the natural flavors of both the meat and squash: a cinnamon stick broken into two pieces, cloves, allspice, nutmeg and a dash of brown sugar. While the meat is browning, add a small can of Spanish-style tomato sauce (Goya makes a good one for about $0.35), this will bind the meat. Lastly, add raisins, dried cranberries, slivered almonds and capers.

Let the picadillo simmer on low heat while getting the squash ready to bake. Cut the top off close to the stem, then poke the center of the squash with a foke and scoop out all of the seeds. Add a drop of olive oil to coat the inside of the squash and seal in all the flavors, then stuff the cavity with the picadillo, packing it down. Place the lid back on the squash and stick a skewer in it to remain closed while baking. Bake for about an hour, then remove from oven and sprinkle the rim of the squash lightly with brown sugar.

To serve, cut open squash and enjoy! This dish pairs well with a crisp apple salad and Dominican style red beans and rice, as pictured.

If anyone has any questions or recipe requests, e-mail me at yenni.miel@gmail.com.

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The Watkins Elementary Hornets run laps during practice. Al Johnson’s older son, Ariel, plays running back and cornerback for the school, located in Southeast Washington, DC.

Dallas Lillich is a freelance photographer based in Washington, DC.

Boxing is a full-time job compounded with part-time work for local fighter Alexander “The Great” Johnson (see part one), and the discipline it demands has had a transformative effect on his life outside the ring.

“For a long time I didn’t get the discipline act of boxing,” he explains. “I just knew how to use my hands.”

“I fought every day coming home from elementary school. I was a troubled kid. Losing my brother and my cousin…those were hard times on me and my family. I was about eight back then. Same age as my son down there.”

He nods at his older son, Ariel, on the field of Cardozo High School. He plays running back and cornerback for the Watkins Elementary Hornets.

Ariel is coached by his father, Al Johnson, during a break at Watkins Elementary School.

“My brother, may he rest in peace, was the one who got me into boxing. I didn’t know how to channel the pain I felt into anything else. Since then I’ve seen a lot. I’ve done a lot. Growing up as a black kid between ’81 and now in DC—what alternative do you have but to accept, adapt and try to conquer your environment?”

Asked if boxing is his way of fighting against the past, he responds, “It’s not so much a reaction as a progression. When I was in those days…it was like I was always fighting my way out. Walking down the street, somehow I’m just throwing my hands—and I’m nowhere near a gym. Now I’m in the gym. Now I’m fighting my way into becoming a world champion.”

It’s a testament to the people behind a sport with a long history in the DC area—people like Al’s trainer Zeke and his manager Diana Hall. Whereas Al’s family life once propelled him into a cycle of aggression—one that imperiled his future by bringing past pain perpetually into the present—the art of boxing has empowered him to reorganize his feelings into a positive force working to secure his family’s future. The ‘discipline act’ of boxing has transformed him from a victim into a success, from a boy into a man.

Al watches the Hornets practice while playing with his younger son, also named Al.

“My maturity level has grown beyond me,” he says while bobbing his younger son on his knee.

“Now my family is my motivation.”

Al walks down the field at Cardozo High School to congratulate the Hornets after their game against the Titans.

Alexander “The Great” Johnson’s next fight is on Saturday, October 24th at the Washington Convention Center; 801 Mount Vernon Pl NW, DC; 202-249-3000; www.dcconvention.com It’s being promoted by Babie Girl Productions as Fright Night; www.babiegirlproduction.net/ Contact Johnson through his manager, Diana Hall at diana.hall@pgparks.com

More photos after the jump. Read Full Post

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Alexander “The Great” Johnson attacks the speed bag at Sugar Ray Leonard Gym in Palmer Park, MD.

Dallas Lillich is a freelance photographer based in Washington, DC.

Al Johnson is a professional boxer who grew up in Washington, DC. Known as “Alexander the Great,” he fights in the light heavyweight division. His record after two years in the pros stands at 7-0 with 3 knockouts. He trains at Sugar Ray Leonard Gym in Palmer Park, Maryland.

His last fight took place on September 26th at the Patriot Center in Fairfax, Virginia. He is pictured here in the weeks leading up to the event, during which he trained five hours a day, five to six times a week. Staying in shape for the ring presents a number of challenges.

“Boxing is a full-time job,” he explains. “Between rope work, eating right and getting enough rest, you have to be tough on yourself. You’ve got to have discipline about it.”

Al enters the ring for training. His trainer Zeke (red shirt) stands by as a portrait of Sugar Ray Leonard hovers in the background.

He attributes a share of his perseverance to his team, which includes his manager, Diana Hall, and his trainer who goes by Zeke. With his operatic harangues and constant critiques, Zeke plays the role of taskmaster, which sometimes leads to tension between the two men. Asked about their relationship, Al concedes, “I’ve got a great trainer. We have our ups and downs, but it’s mostly because I get to the point where I’m so anxious to fight that I’m barking at anything.”

Al lands an uppercut against his opponent in the ring.

Al can regularly be seen working the door at The Wonderland Ballroom and Looking Glass Lounge where he supplements his income to support his family—another challenge he faces with his characteristic aplomb.

Al Johnson celebrates after a good round.

His next fight is on Saturday, October 24th at the Washington Convention Center.

More photos after the jump Read Full Post

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Photo by PoPville flickr user *tinadelarosa

The following was written by PoP contributor Eric Nuzum. Also of note: Eric will be at Past Tense Yoga, 3253 Mt. Pleasant St. NW, after Happy Hour on Fri, Oct. 23 for an entertaining reading from both The Dead Travel Fast, his pop culture look at vampires, and his forthcoming book Bring Me To Heaven, where he visits to some of the most haunted locations in the country to find ghosts. You can read Eric’s previous contributions here.

The other day I was watching CNN and five-word headline scrolled across the bottom of the page, “Pet bear kills Pennsylvania woman.”

Of course, since I rarely have anything better to do, I immediately Googled “pet bear kills pennsylvania woman” (the 15th most-popular search term at the time) and found this story, detailing the demise of 37-year-old Kelly Ann Walz of Ross Township, PA. It seemed Mrs. Walz kept a variety of exotic animals as pets–a cougar, a lion, a Begal tiger, and a 350-pound black bear. The Walz family had kept the bear in a fifteen by fifteen foot concrete and steel cage for nine years. A few days ago, Kelly threw in some dog food to distract the bear while she cleaned its cage. Once inside, she learned the bear wasn’t all that distracted, was probably more than a little pissed off about the 225-square-feet-of-space-for-almost-a-decade thing, and mauled her to death.

At several stages of this story, it kind of leaves you asking yourself: what was she thinking?

And few months ago, I read a similar story in Esquire, about a guy who was attacked by a pet chimp, who severed the guy’s foot, nose, testicles, and a few fingers in the process. And while especially gruesome, overgrown chimp attacks aren’t all that rare.

It kind of leaves you asking yourself: what were they thinking?

You may be curious where I’m going with this. It’s just that when I saw that headline crawl across the TV earlier, the first thought that entered my mind wasn’t about the woman, her family, or even the bear. I thought about my son–or more specifically, that I am about to become a father.

If your first thought upon reading that last sentence was “What is he thinking?” you can probably understand my state of mind. Much like our deceased and disfigured former exotic pet owners, my wife and I, despite the experience of others, the laws of nature, and common sense, have decided to have a child. Continues after the jump. Read Full Post

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