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The Impeachment of Abraham Lincolnby Stephen L. Carter
Stephen L. Carter's thrilling new novel takes as its starting point an alternate history: President Abraham Lincoln survives the assassination attempt at/b>/i>/i>
From the best-selling author of The Emperor of Ocean Park and New England White, a daring reimagining of one of the most tumultuous moments in our nation's past
Stephen L. Carter's thrilling new novel takes as its starting point an alternate history: President Abraham Lincoln survives the assassination attempt at Ford's Theatre on April 14, 1865. Two years later he is charged with overstepping his constitutional authority, both during and after the Civil War, and faces an impeachment trial . . .
Twenty-one-year-old Abigail Canner is a young black woman with a degree from Oberlin, a letter of employment from the law firm that has undertaken Lincoln's defense, and the iron-strong conviction, learned from her late mother, that "whatever limitations society might place on ordinary negroes, they would never apply to her." And so Abigail embarks on a life that defies the norms of every stratum of Washington society: working side by side with a white clerk, meeting the great and powerful of the nation, including the president himself. But when Lincoln's lead counsel is found brutally murdered on the eve of the trial, Abigail is plunged into a treacherous web of intrigue and conspiracy reaching the highest levels of the divided government.
Here is a vividly imagined work of historical fiction that captures the emotional tenor of post–Civil War America, a brilliantly realized courtroom drama that explores the always contentious question of the nature of presidential authority, and a galvanizing story of political suspense.
This eBook edition includes a Reading Group Guide.
Editorial Reviews
Ron Charles
Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow
"Carter is a masterly novelist. . . . Carter makes the setting seem true, creating as real an immediate postwar Washington as Gore Vidal's wartime Washington in Lincoln. He has also created an interesting Zelig-like character in the free young black woman Abigail Canner."
—San Francisco Chronicle
"An entertaining story rooted in the legal, political and racial conflicts of 19th-century America."
—The Washington Post
"A novel that is as epic and full of turns as the Civil War itself. . . . Carter writes with a gentle elegance of the trauma in the streets and parlors of Washington as Americans grapple with the lingering tragedy of the war, the assassination attempt, and the impeachment. . . . There are really two interesting and parallel stories here: One is a meticulously laid-out courtroom drama. . . . The other is a Grisham-style caper involving the improbable ascension of a gung-ho, young middle-class black woman named Abigail Canner. . . . Carter's cool style gives the novel a breezy accessibility."
—The Seattle Times
"There's a lot going on in this big, smart book. . . . What makes the novel so vastly entertaining is the author's sharp skewering of politicians, lawyers, and the monied social class that runs Washington. . . . Carter raises important questions about governing during wartime and in peace, and he interrogates the motivations behind impeachment in general. Lofty legal arguments coincide with a grittier plot involving murder, the demimonde, and a mysterious list of possible anti-Lincoln conspirators. Romantic complications abound."
—The Boston Globe
"Entertaining. . . . [A] rich political thriller that dares to imagine how events might have ricocheted in a different direction after the Civil War. . . . Carter's delight in all this material is infectious. He's a fantastic legal dramatist, and there's the constant pleasure of seeing his creation of Washington City in 1867, alive with sounds and smells. . . . History buffs can test their mettle by trying to unwind Carter's entangling of fact and fiction."
—The Washington Post
"[T]he best legal thriller so far this year. . . . I've liked Carter's four previous forays into fiction. This one, I loved."
—Patrik Henry Bass, Essence Magazine
"A vivid portrait. . . . The best thing about sitting down with this rich, often thrilling novel is watching its alternative history unfold."
—The Washingtonian
"Fascinating . . . impressively imagined . . . A time in American history when lofty principles and petty concerns battled for pride of place in the national consciousness. . . . The novel excels at drawing a vivid picture of Washington City (as it was then known), halfway between its origins as fetid swampland and the bureaucratic metropolis of today. . . . As a character, Abigail Canner is perfectly positioned to provide the reader with access to every social strata. . . . She is a proud, resourceful, intelligent heroine."
—The Oregonian
"Carter's tale comes to a conclusion as thrilling and untidy as the actual events that unfolded during the turbulent postwar years."
"A delightful novel. . . . Carter, [by] making Abigail Canner the protagonist through whose eyes one sees much of the story, shows us life in the nation's capital, the epicenter of the victorious North, as lived by its black population. That perspective is rich, rare, and almost certainly well-researched. . . . The book kept me up late, reading as fast as I can."
—Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
"Carter writes a likely and intriguing scenario. . . . His use of rich, authentic dialogue and graphic descriptions of Washington City give authority to his work."
—Louisville Courier-Journal
"A crackling good read. . . . Carter gives us a gripping portrait of Lincoln. . . . Best of all is the light Carter shines on a slice of Washington life that remains obscure to many Americans to this day: the black middle class of the mid-19th century, represented here in the trim and perspicacious person of the book's surprising sleuth, Abigail Canner . . . a black Nancy Drew with the weight of history on her shoulders."
—Chicago Tribune
"A rich blend of murder mystery, legal thriller, courtroom drama, and period piece featuring some of the historical figures of the time. What elevates Impeachment above most alternative history is how Carter charts the cross currents of race, class, and society in the raucous capital."
—The Miami Herald
"Carter lays out a fascinating What-If plot."
—St. Louis Post-Dispatch
"Superb. . . . [Carter] teases out the implications of his scenario with a deep knowledge of Lincoln's time. He tells a page-turning tale of historical espionage. . . . I'm reminded why I read fiction in the first place, and why a new book by Stephen Carter is always to be celebrated."
—John Wilson, Books & Culture
"Freed Black men, gangs of evil White men, and crafty politicians come alive in this work. Fluidly written, the pages fly by, leaving you with a feeling that this really could have happened."
—Ebony Magazine
"An engaging historical what-if . . . Provides an intriguing look at race and politics in 19th-century America with relevancies that still echo today."
—Valdosta Daily Times (Georgia)
"Abigail is a wonderful creation. . . . Carter writes in the naturalistic school of Theodore Dreiser. His strength lies in capturing the subtle nuances of social interaction between blacks and whites."
—Library Journal
"A smart and engaging what-if that has the virtue of being plausible. . . . Abigail makes for a grandly entertaining sleuth."
—Kirkus Reviews
"This novel has all the juicy stew of post–Civil War Washington, with the complexities of race, class, and sex mixed in. Carter draws on historical documents and a vivid imagination to render a fascinating mix of murder mystery, political thriller, and courtroom drama. . . . Imaginatively conceived."
—Booklist (starred review)
Product Details
- 9780307958402
- Publisher:
- Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
- Publication date:
- 07/10/2012
- Sold by:
- Random House
- Format:
- NOOK Book
- Pages:
- 528
- Sales rank:
- 545,019
- File size:
Read an Excerpt
April 14 – 16, 1865
The President was dying.
As the grim news spread through Washington City, angry crowds spilled into the cold, muddy night. Abraham Lincoln had been shot at Ford's Theatre, on Tenth Street. The wounds were mortal, people were saying. There was no way he could survive. The war was over, the South utterly vanquished, yet somehow its withered hand had reached up into the nation's capital and extracted this bitter revenge. The crowds became mobs, looking for somebody to hang. Some wanted to burn Ford's to the ground. Others marched toward Old Capitol Prison, where many leaders of the late rebellion were still being held. Rumors passed from mouth to mouth: The Vice- President had been murdered in his rooms at Kirkwood House. The Secretary of State had been stabbed to death in his mansion on Lafayette Square. Confederate troops were advancing on the city. Or Union troops: nobody seemed to know for sure, and a coup d'état had been rumored for years. Outside Ford's Theatre, a man in the blood-spattered uniform of an army major and a doctor carrying a candle fought their way into the street. A group bearing Lincoln's unmoving body followed behind. Mrs. Lincoln, face like chalk, clutched her husband's stiff hand. People leaned in, trying to see or touch. Men groaned. Women wept. A soldier banged on the door of a row house across the way. They carried the President inside and shut the door. People craned to peer in the windows. Minutes later, Secretary of War Stanton, the most feared man in Washington, arrived in an unguarded carriage and raced inside. Other officials followed. Furious soldiers took up positions on the sidewalk but seemed to have no clear orders. They battered members of the crowd for practice. Other men went in. The people who had been closest to the body passed on the story: the President's head was a mass of blood.
Meanwhile, the hue and cry had been raised. That actor fellow. Wilkes Booth. He had shot the President and leaped to the stage, then escaped on horseback. Somehow the mob was armed now, looking for someone to whom they might do mayhem. Booth would be best, but any Southern sympathizer or paroled Confederate soldier would do, or, in the absence of so obvious a target, any man dressed in gray, or a Catholic, or a darkie. In the confusion, Stanton took command. He ordered the city sealed. Trains were stopped. Guards allowed no one across the bridges. Telegrams were sent to military commanders in Virginia and Maryland, warning them to watch for men on horses fleeing Washington. On the Potomac River, a steamer was prepared as a floating prison should any of the conspirators be apprehended, the better to protect them from the mob: good order required that they be hanged swiftly by soldiers rather than by citizens.
The Union had been struck a hard blow, and wanted revenge.
From Philadelphia to New York to Chicago, newspapers were out with special late editions, their entire front pages devoted to the shooting. Some headlines pronounced the President already dead. Editors who had been Lincoln's sworn foes eulogized him as the nation's savior; others, who had openly despised Mrs. Lincoln, assured the nation that they stood beside the First Lady in her impending widowhood. In the war-ravaged South, where few telegraph lines were intact, the news moved more slowly. Lincoln's longtime bodyguard, Allan Pinkerton, was in New Orleans, and would not learn of the shooting for several days. In the cities of the North, vengeful citizens marched. Church doors were flung open so that people might pray for the President's recovery. But the prayers, like the mobs, seemed fruitless. Everybody knew that it was too late. Little squares of black crepe began to appear in windows, signaling a nation already mourning.
That was Friday. By Saturday, however, the rumors began to change. Perhaps all was not lost. The doctors had cleaned the wound repeatedly and removed the clotting blood. And a miracle was occurring. The President's indomitable will was asserting itself. He was breathing strongly on his own, his eyes were fl uttering open, and the damage to his brain appeared less severe than first thought. The telegraph flashed the news across the country: Lincoln lives! True, Vice-President Andrew Johnson was dead, and the Secretary of State so badly wounded that he might not see another day, but Abraham Lincoln, savior of the nation, seemed to be improving.
He had been shot on Good Friday. On Easter Sunday, he rose.
By the middle of the week, the President was sitting up, meeting with his staff, once again in charge of the affairs of the nation. Across the country, people cheered. Those who felt otherwise kept their disappointment to themselves, content to bide their time.
November 19, 1866
The night riders were gaining.
Bending low, the black man spurred his tiring horse down the tangled leaf- strewn lane. On either side, fields thick with brightleaf tobacco stretched into the chilly Virginia darkness. Just a few miles ahead loomed the lower slopes of the Shenandoah, with its welcoming forest. If he could only reach the tree belt, he would be safe. A few miles to the north, an entire brigade of Union troops garrisoned the town of Winchester, but with three hooded pursuers only a few hundred yards behind, his chances of reaching either sanctuary were small. He had a pistol in his saddlebag and a knife in his belt, and he knew that if he slowed to draw either, the night riders would have him.
That would be bad.
In a hidden pocket sewn beneath the lining of his right boot was the message. If he was caught and searched, the night riders might find it.
That would be worse.
He rode faster. The autumn drizzle turned to steam on the horse's burning flanks. He heard a low crackle that might have been distant lightning or a nearby gunshot. He rounded a bend, jumped a fallen tree, nearly spilled on the other side. Very soon his mount would collapse.
Pounding hooves and shouting voices carried across the night air. The riders were close behind. He searched for a turnoff but found none. Had he possessed a sense of irony, he might have considered that not far to the south was Appomattox Court House, where, a year and a half earlier, Lee had surrendered the Army of Virginia, ending the Civil War but setting off the more secretive conflict in which he himself was now playing so carefully scripted a part. But there was no time for such musings. The moon had burst from the clouds, and lighted the path to escape.
Up ahead, the road split into two branches. He took the southmost fork, which led, if he remembered correctly, to a shattered plantation and an old church. His pursuers, he reasoned, would break into two groups to make sure that they did not lose him. He could make his stand in the church, or even the plantation house, if he just got there ahead of them. He was not a great shot, but from hiding he could certainly handle one or two men coming up the road toward—
The sudden hard burning in his leg, followed by the horse's shriek, told him that bullets were being fired. He heard the fl at clap of the gun as the horse threw him. He hit the frozen earth hard. More shots followed. Just before he passed out, he realized that he had been chased into a trap, forgetting, in his desperation to escape the men behind him, to worry about what might be waiting out front.
HE OPENED HIS eyes, and was aware at once that the burning in his leg was worse. He groaned and tried to shift, only to realize that a boot was pressing into the wound. He was propped against a tree, hands bound behind him. Through the haze of pain, he was able to make out a small group of men, all of them hooded. The man with his foot on the wound was thickset, and wore a blue mask. Beside him was a taller and thinner man, head covered by a burlap sack with eyeholes cut into it.
"He's awake," said the man in blue.
"Course he is," said the man in burlap, "seeing as how you're pretty much breaking his leg."
The heavy man stooped. He was sodden with sweat. "Whatcha doin out here, boy? There's a curfew."
The black man grimaced, and dropped his eyes. "Sorry, suh."
"Say that again."
"Sorry, suh."
The man in the blue mask stood up and walked over to the others. The black man laid his head against the tree, glad to be free of the pain. His eyes were glazed, but his hearing was fine.
"I don't like how he sounds," said the man in blue, who seemed to be the leader. "He's faking. He's not one of ours. He's one of them Northern niggers."
"I've seen this boy," said the man in brown burlap. "He's a Dempsey boy."
The leader's face was invisible inside the blue hood, but, even so, his posture seemed to communicate disappointment. He leaned close to the prisoner. "Is that true, boy? Do you work for Mr. Dempsey?"
"Mrs. Dempsey, suh. Yassuh."
"Mrs. Claire Dempsey up Warrenton way?"
"Suh, I don't know a Missus Claire. I works for Missus Henrietta, at Heddon Hills."
The release of tension was general. Heddon Hills was indeed the Dempsey family plantation: fallen on hard times, to be sure, since the Yankees came through, but still in Dempsey hands. The man in burlap put his hand on the leader's shoulder. "Satisfied?"
"He's a Dempsey boy, I told you— "
"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't," said the leader. He shook himself free of the other's grip. "I say he's educated."
All five hoods turned his way.
"He's an educated nigger," he continued, eyes fairly glowing through the slits. "He'll 'Yassuh' and 'Nossuh' till Judgment Day, but behind that black face he's laughing at us. He's one of those educated niggers, he's been to some nigger school somewhere, and now he thinks he's better than we are." With a movement of sublime laziness, he tucked the muzzle of his shotgun up against the black man's chin. "Is that right, boy? You've been to some nigger school, haven't you?"
"Nossuh," said the prisoner, eyes wide in the smooth brown face.
"You're a Dempsey boy."
"Search him."
Immediately the black man felt his bound hands drawn farther behind him. The pain would have doubled him over but for the shotgun pressing into his neck. One of his captors was going through his pockets, and another through his saddlebags. He heard an exclamation and knew they had found his little supply of greenbacks. Another, and he knew they had found the weapons.
"There's a letter," somebody said, and handed it to the thin man who had tried to protect him. He tore open the envelope. "It's from Mrs. Dempsey all right. It says this here is Royal, and he's been loyal to her since he was a boy. He never ran off with the Yankees. It says he's carrying a message down to a Mr. Toombs in Snickers Gap." He gave the paper to the leader. "That's Mrs. Dempsey's signature. She does some of her banking with me."
The leader sneered. "And now this boy knows who you are."
The gun barrel prodded the black man's neck. "What's the message?"
"What message does Mrs. Dempsey have you sending to Mr. Toombs?"
"Suh, Mrs. Dempsey wants to invite her goddaughter to spend the holidays at Heddon Hills."
"That's the whole message?"
"Enough," said the man in burlap. "This ain't who we're looking for. Let him go, Bill."
The leader turned his way. "And now he knows who I am, too." He lowered the shotgun and, without warning, pulled the trigger. The black man cried out in agony. Wounded now in both thigh and foot, he collapsed against the tree.
Bill crouched beside the prisoner. "Do you think we're stupid, boy? You think we're illiterate crackers? I was with Jubal Early for two years. I was a colonel. My friend Jedediah here—since we're telling names—was a captain. He was with Whiting at Fort Fisher. Now, let me tell you something." The gun caressed the wounded man's thigh. "I know who you are. I know what you're doing. You are a courier for the Yankee secret service." The black man was shaking his head frantically. "You are a courier, and you are carrying a secret message. Tell us the truth, and tell us where the message is hidden, or I'll blow your balls off and let you bleed to death, and meanwhile we'll find the message anyway." The man called Jedediah tugged at his arm. The others were already inching toward their mounts. "Come on, Bill. Let's get out of here."
"Get him up."
"Get him up. I want him on his horse."
"Because we're gonna have us a hanging."
"But— "
"He's a spy, Jedediah. Spies get hanged."
The man in burlap shook his head. "The war's over."
"Not for me."
THE BODY WAS found two days later by a Union patrol. The night riders had left him in a ditch, after stealing his horse, his weapons, and his money. The soldiers made nothing of it. The night riders were killing colored men all over the South, and there was not much to be done about it. There was no way of investigating, even if anybody had wanted to. Nobody talked to the Yankees.
The soldiers took the corpse up to Winchester and turned it over to the colored Benevolent Association, who would bury the remains somewhere. But before the soldiers surrendered the body, they took the boots, because supplies were still short, and if they didn't fit you, you could always trade with somebody they did. And the boots were passed a good way down the line before somebody found the false lining, and the wad of paper hidden inside. He thought it was money, but it turned out to be just a list of names. The private told his sergeant, who said the dead man was probably in the black market. The names were his customers.
The sergeant told the private to deliver the paper to the office of the adjutant general, just in case military personnel were involved. The soldier meant to do just that in the morning, but that night he went drinking in town, got into a bar fight, and wound up with his head smashed in. He died the next morning.
The sergeant took his duties seriously. He asked the dead private's tentmates to go through the man's things and bring him the letter with the list of names. When they came back an hour later to say they couldn't find it, the sergeant looked for himself.
The letter was gone.
Chapter 1
THEY WERE HANGING white folks in Louisiana and shooting black folks in Richmond. Union troops had invaded Mexico, Canada, Cuba, and every brothel in the South. Confederate troops were holed up in the Smoky Mountains, waiting for the signal to attack. The casket of the First Lady, who had drowned last year while visiting relations in Illinois, had been exhumed, and found empty. Meanwhile, Abe Lincoln, facing an impeachment trial, was sneaking off to see a medium in New York, and Jefferson Davis, onetime leader of the rebellion and supposedly locked up in Fort Monroe, was actually in Philadelphia, sipping champagne with his rich friends. None of this was true, but all of it was in the newspapers.
It was late winter of 1867, nearly two years after the end of the war, and reporters were inventing rumors almost faster than their editors could print them. The nation, everyone agreed, was a mess. If only it had been old Abe who was shot dead that night instead of Andy Johnson, his Vice-President. If Johnson were President now—so moaned the editorial writers—the nation would be in considerably better shape.
All of which helped explain why Abigail Canner had finally given up on reading the papers. She was smarter than any five reporters put together, and perfectly capable of making up her own stories. But she didn't want to be a reporter: she had a brother and a distant cousin in that business already. She wanted to be a lawyer. This was impossible, she was told, given her color and her sex. But she was determined to try, unaware of how her ambition would carry her to the center of great events.
The romance, like the violence, came later.
On the first Monday in February, in the Year of Our Lord one thousand eight hundred sixty-seven—or, in the larger history, one month exactly before the trial of the sixteenth President of the United States was to begin—Abigail set out upon her journey. Ignoring her mad brother's derisive insistence that nothing good would come of the effort, she rode the horse-drawn streetcars through the filthy snow to prove to the world that she was indeed the woman she claimed. She had her college degree and her letter of employment and the stony conviction, learned from her late mother, that, whatever limitations the society might place on ordinary negroes, they would never apply to her.
Abigail boarded the Seventh Street line, which passed near her home, then changed at Pennsylvania Avenue, choosing the second row to avoid a squabble with the white citizens of Washington City, who seemed to consider the rear of the car their own private preserve, but also to avoid the ignominy that came of riding up front with the driver, where nowadays most men and women of her race tucked themselves without a second thought: a discrimination until recently enshrined in city law. The war was over, the slaves were free, and the government of the United States guaranteed the rights of the colored race, but here in the nation's triumphant capital, in the midst of the most frigid winter in years, everybody was at pains to establish who was who.
Abigail was a tall young woman, unfashionably slender, with smooth mahogany skin that bespoke more than one dallying slavemaster in her ancestral tree. The hooded coat she wore against the cold was a product of the finest dressmaker in Boston, a gift from her uncle, a physician. The trim was silver fur. The face that peered out suggested a woman who pondered a great deal over the issues of the day, and very deeply, but frowned on most forms of fun. Her gray eyes were sharp and probing; her dimpled chin seemed confident and disapproving. Men tended to find her reasonably pretty, even if not so vivacious as her older sister, Judith, or so innocently beautiful as her younger sister, Louisa. They also tended to find her too distant, too judgmental, too intelligent altogether, for Abigail would always rather read another book than have another dance. Nanny Pork, who ran the Canner household, preached the evils of dancing and carousing and most forms of enjoyment, and although Abigail was not precisely the sort to do what she was told, she regarded Nanny with the sort of awe usually reserved for less visible agents of divinity.
Abigail was twenty-one years old, and parentless, and black, and expecting, somehow, to affect the course of history.
Maybe even starting today.
The streetcar pulled up at the carriage block on the corner of Fourteenth Street, near the Willard Hotel, where negroes were not welcome except in service. Abigail stepped carefully down onto the broken stone. Neither the driver nor any of the gentlemen passing on the street made any effort to assist her, but, she had not expected them to. The newsboy was the only one who paid her any attention, shouting that Senator Wade was predicting that at least forty of the fifty-four members of the Senate would vote to remove the President from office, and forty, she knew, was more than enough. The boy thrust a newspaper at her with one hand and held out the other for a coin. Abigail ignored him. She stood in the swirling snow and checked the address she had written in her commonplace book. Actually, she had the address marked down firmly in her memory, but her late mother had always taught her to make assurance double sure. Abigail folded the book into her handbag and walked north. The tiny flakes were like pinpricks on her bright cheeks. She took care not to slip on the ice, but a wall of wind still almost knocked her from the cobbled sidewalk into the frozen mud of Fourteenth Street. As she regained her footing, two white women, heading the other way, began a very loud conversation about how, since the war, half the negroes in town seemed to be drunk from breakfast on.
Abigail ignored them, too.
She found the address at the corner of G Street. A policeman patrolled out front, resplendent and shivering in blue serge and brass buttons. The policeman was an unexpected obstacle, but Abigail chose to deal with him the way her late mother had taught her to deal with most barriers. She walked straight past him, head held high.
He scarcely gave her a glance.
The narrow lobby was dark after the glare of the snow. She took the creaking stairs to the second floor, where the bronze plaque read dennard & mcshane, and knocked on the door. Waiting, she was surprised to find herself nervous. She hated uneasiness as she hated most signs of human weakness, most of all in herself. Fear is a test, her late mother used to say. Fear is how God challenges us.
Accepting the challenge, she knocked again.
The door swung open, and there stood a gangly young man in high-collared shirt and black necktie. He was missing the jacket that doubtless completed his working attire. Straw-colored hair was pressed back in fashionable waves against a long, slim head. Even standing still, he displayed an economy of movement that implied a life lived without challenges. He was white, of course, and about her age, and Abigail could tell at once that he was ill at ease around women. Nevertheless, he found an awkward smile somewhere, and glanced, she noted, at her hands. Perhaps he thought she was carrying a delivery.
"May I help you?" the young man said.
"My name is Abigail Canner," she said. "I have an appointment." The man said nothing, so she tried again. "About the job."
"Job?" he repeated doubtfully, as if she were speaking Greek. In his shy earnestness, he gave the impression of a man trying desperately to live up to something terribly difficult.
"The job as a law clerk." She tilted her head toward the plaque. "For Dennard & McShane."
"Ah." Nodding firmly, more sure of his ground. "That would be Mr. Dennard. His clerk left. I'm Hilliman. I'm Mr. McShane's clerk. The partners are out just now, but if you would leave your employer's card, one of the messengers will be round to set up an appointment." When she said nothing, his smile began to fade. He gestured, vaguely. Peering past him, Abigail saw a long, narrow room dominated by a heavy wooden table heaped with papers and books. Shelves lined every wall, and the heavy volumes looked well used. In one corner, numbers were scribbled on a blackboard. In another, an elderly colored man tended a weak coal fire. "I'm afraid we are rather busy right now—"
"I imagine you are, Mr. Hilliman. Preparing for the impeachment trial."
"Well, yes." He looked at her with new respect, or at least growing curiosity, perhaps because she did not speak in the manner of the colored people to whom he was accustomed. Abigail Canner had provoked this reaction in others. She worked at it. "That's right. The trial. I'm sorry," he added, although, as yet, he had done nothing to apolo- gize for.
Almost nothing.
"I find it most intriguing," said Abigail, "that the Congress would attempt such a thing."
"Yes, well, if you would just—"
"The committee has proposed four counts of impeachment, has it not? Half relating to the conduct of the war, and half relating to events since the war ended."
"How do you know that?" His tone suggested that she could not possibly have read a newspaper. He caught her expression, and realized his error. "I mean—well, that is very impressive."
"I try to be prepared," she said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. She had faced silly boys like this at college, too, unable to believe the evidence of their eyes and ears. No colored girl could possibly be their equal. "Do you know yet whether the House will adopt all four counts?"
"There has been no vote as yet—"
"They will vote in two weeks." A prim smile. "I am here," she said, "to help."
"To help what?"
"Help you, Mr. Hilliman. With the impeachment trial."
"I beg your pardon."
"I am the new law clerk." She drew the letter confirming her employment from her commonplace book. "Mr. Dennard hired me."
There are in life moments that are irretrievable, and one opportunity fate never grants twice is making a first impression. Jonathan Hilliman, confronted with the least likely of all the possible explanations for this peculiar woman's presence at Dennard & McShane, spoke out of utter confusion, and therefore from the heart:
"That is not possible," he said, jaw agape.
Abigail's eyes went very wide. They were wide enough already, gray and flecked and watchful, eyes that neither overlooked nor forgot. But, as Jonathan would come to learn, when Abigail was angry, those eyes could grow wide enough to swallow a room. Now, as he fumbled for the words to repair his mistake, Abigail, unbidden, stepped past him into the foyer. A long sooty window dominated one wall. Four inner doors were closed, two presumably leading to the partners' offices. The old colored man got to his feet, bowed, touched his cap.
"My name is Little," he said, with an affecting grin. He was nearly toothless. "I'se been with the Dennards going on sixty years now."
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Little," she said, extending a hand.
He hesitated, then shook. "Just Little, miss."
"I'm sorry?"
"My name is Little, miss. Just Little."
"Excuse me," said Mr. Hilliman, having recovered his composure. "Perhaps I could see that letter."
The black woman smiled blandly, the way Jonathan's mother smiled at the servants when about to berate them. "Of course, Mr. Hilliman."
He took the page in his hands and read it slowly, then again, mouthing the words as if reading were new to him. At last he raised his eyes. "You are the new clerk."
"I believe I told you that."
"You are Miss Abigail Canner."
"I'm sorry." He glanced around the messy room. It was obvious to them both what he wanted to say and could not. Instead, he retreated into a show of confusion. "I understood that Mr. Dennard was planning to hire a new clerk. I had no idea that he had—I mean, that he—that you were—um, that you were coming today."
"I understand, Mr. Hilliman," said Abigail, standing there with bag in hand. There were, as yet, fewer than a dozen lawyers of African descent practicing in American courts. There were no women of any color. The Supreme Court had admitted the first colored attorney to its bar only a year and a half ago, and he had promptly gone into a wasting decline, from which he was not expected to recover. The wags said the Court's members knew of his illness in advance, and wanted the credit for having admitted him without ever having to allow him to argue before them. "But I assume that there is plenty of work to do."
"Well, yes—"
The door burst open, and in swept Arthur McShane, Jonathan's boss, accompanied by a tough-looking man Jonathan did not recognize.
"We're thirteen votes down," McShane growled, unwrapping himself. He was a diminutive man, small and trim and almost boyish except for the weathered face, all hollows and valleys. He handed his scarf to Little. "Thirteen votes. I don't believe it. If the vote were held today, it would be fourteen for acquittal, twenty-seven for conviction. The rest are undecided so far—"
"That's still short of two-thirds," soothed the stranger. He was paunchy and confident, and sported a magnificent black beard. He had just laid his coat across Little's waiting arms. "They need two-thirds."
McShane ignored him. "One bit of good news"—eyeing Abigail suddenly, obviously not sure who she might be, but, after a moment's hesitation, plunging on—"good news, that is, for our side. They won't vote on admitting Nebraska to the Union until after the trial. You remember what happened with Nevada last year. The price of statehood was sending two anti-Lincoln men to the Senate, bound to vote for conviction. Well, that bit of skulduggery embarrassed the Radicals, so they've agreed not to admit Nebraska just yet. This is Mr. Baker."
"Jonathan Hilliman." He thrust out a hand, which Baker seemed to examine for traps before grabbing. The stranger's shake was perfunctory, an unappealing duty to be gotten over with. "And this"— Jonathan hesitated; names had never been his forte. "This is, um, Mr. Dennard's new clerk— "
"Abigail Canner," she said, lifting a white- gloved hand. Baker barely bowed his head, but McShane took her fingers as he would do for any lady, and lightly kissed her knuckles.
"Welcome, Miss Canner," said the lawyer. He smiled. He was shorter than Abigail, and so was smiling up at her. He said, innocently, what Jonathan had been afraid of saying awkwardly. "Dennard did tell me that he had hired a woman. He made no mention of your race. He says that Dr. Charles Finney wrote him on your behalf. Dr. Finney still running things at Oberlin, is he?"
"He is on in years, sir, but in spirit he is strong."
"I believe Dennard and Finney knew each other in the old days, at the Broadway Tabernacle. Well, never mind. Little, clear a space at the table. Jonathan, I'm afraid there is a bit of a crisis. You will come with me to see the President."
Abigail said, "What should I— "
McShane continued to smile. "You should wait here until Mr. Dennard returns." Jonathan had stepped to the blackboard and was using a cloth to wipe off the numbers inscribed there. He wrote: 14– 27– 11. Abigail realized that he was recording the likely votes in the Senate for acquittal and conviction and those undecided. Now, hearing his employer's comment, Jonathan turned and was about to speak, but the lawyer silenced him with a look. "Wait. Let me see your
She handed it over. The lawyer took it in at a glance. "This says you are a clerk. Not a law clerk."
"Is there a difference, Mr. McShane?"
His face remained gentle but his voice hardened. "You have never met Dennard, have you?"
"No, sir. Our interview was entirely via correspondence."
"Did you inform him that you are colored?"
Abigail began to feel as if she had somehow wandered in the wrong door. The way Finney had explained things, it all seemed so simple. "The issue never arose."
"I suspected as much." McShane nodded, evidently in confirmation of a private theory. "A law clerk," he explained, "is a young man who works in an attorney's offi ce while studying the law, in the hope of being called to the bar. A clerk, on the other hand— not a law clerk, just a plain clerk— is a sort of an assistant. A secretary. To take notes, as it were. Do filing. Make deliveries. Copy out documents. Answer correspondence." He could not possibly miss the mortification on her face. Yet his smile actually broadened. "You should be proud of yourself, Miss Canner. I do not believe that there are five female clerks in the entire city working for lawyers. And none of them are colored."
"But it is 1867!"
"Perhaps in 1967 things will be different. What I have told you is the way things are now."
"Mr. McShane," she managed, surprised to find herself fighting tears, "I— I want to read law."
The lawyer was crisp. "That is not the purpose for which you were hired."
"Yes, but— but surely we could arrange— "
"You are of course free to discuss the matter with Mr. Dennard when he returns. You seem a fairly intelligent young woman. I am sure you know how to bargain. Perhaps you and Dennard can reach some arrangement."
The lasciviousness in his voice was impossible to miss; and impossible to prove.
Abigail swallowed. Her brother always said that even the most liberal of white folks gave only when the giving benefitted them. She had lived her young life in the teeth of that dictum, but now, in this room thick with coal smoke, she stood face- to- face with the evidence of its truth. "When will Mr. Dennard be returning?"
"A week from now," said McShane, with satisfaction. Baker looked on in amusement. "He is in California. Until that time, you will work for me. You may start by helping Little with his chores." Nodding toward the old man. "Is that clear?"
"But, sir! I am a graduate of Oberlin!"
"I have told you the way things are. If you wish to work for the firm of Dennard & McShane, you will be a clerk and a copyist. You will not train as a lawyer."
Abigail calculated fast. "Perhaps I can do both— "
"We will keep you busy, I assure you."
"I am willing to work as late as necessary."
McShane was exasperated. "Fine. You want to read law? There are books everywhere." His hand swept the room.
"Read as many as you like, as long as you do your chores. You can start with Blackstone. Over there— the brown one, see? Commentaries on the Laws of England. Four volumes. Start at page one of volume one, and read all four. When you are through, we can discuss your further ambitions."
Jonathan had found his voice. "Sir, that is nearly three thousand pages."
"So what? The young lady is a graduate of Oberlin. Presumably, she can read. Little, show her where to sit."
Abigail made one fi nal try, even though her voice wavered in a way that she hated. "Sir, if I am to work as a— a secretary— well, then, perhaps I should come to the White House with you. To—to take notes."
McShane was aghast. "Under no circumstances. You are Dennard's clerk, not mine. You will not be working on the impeachment at all." He nodded toward her hand, where she still clutched her commonplace book. "I see you have a diary. So have I. So has Mr. Hilliman. Every lawyer keeps one. But I doubt you shall be needing yours. Little, I told you to show her where to sit. Hilliman, come."
"What about Mr. Baker?" the young man asked.
"He can talk to Miss Canner."
They were out the door.
As they descended the stair, McShane shook his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "The man is unbelievable. Hiring that woman without telling me. I am going to strangle him."
Jonathan said nothing, and was annoyed with himself for this failure; but a part of him was also amused, because Dennard, although on in years, was a heavy, powerful man, and McShane's tiny hands could not possibly have reached around his neck.
They exited onto Fourteenth Street, and the lawyer let out a purr of pleasure at the sight of his waiting horses. McShane could have had a driver but preferred to hold the reins of his own carriage, a very beautiful rig of dark polished wood with gleaming brass highlights. They climbed up for the short ride to the Executive Mansion, and a porter borrowed from the Willard handed the lawyer the reins.
Jonathan said, suddenly, "Why did we leave Mr. Baker behind?"
McShane called to the horses and gently rippled the reins. They moved off. "In case she is a spy," he said.
"I beg your pardon."
"The letter from Dennard might be a forgery. A colored woman. We would never suspect her. Mr. Lincoln's opponents will stop at nothing."
Jonathan could not quite get his mind around such nonsense. The pending impeachment trial, as he had recently written to his fiancée, Meg, seemed to have driven every man in Washington City mad.
And McShane was not done. "We have received information that a partial record of our deliberations— our strategy, if you will, for the trial— has made its way into unfriendly hands."
Jonathan forgot all about Meg. "Do you mean— you mean the Radicals?"
"Exactly. The Radical Republicans, and some of their associates, seem to have obtained notes of some of our confidential discussions."
The hollowed eyes were grave. "That is why Mr. Baker is here."
"And exactly how will Mr. Baker know whether Miss Canner is a spy?"
"You didn't recognize him, did you, Hilliman? That was Lafayette Baker, formerly General Lafayette Baker. The chief of the Union Intelligence Services and the federal police. The man who caught Booth, and saw to it that he did not survive for trial." A curt nod. "He'll get the truth out of her."
Meet the Author
Stephen L. Carter is the William Nelson Cromwell Professor of Law at Yale University, where he has taught since 1982. He is the author of eight books of nonfiction, writes a column for Bloomberg View, and is a frequent contributor to The Daily Beast and Newsweek. The Impeachment of Abraham Lincoln is his fifth novel.
Brief Biography
- Hometown:
- Connecticut
- Date of Birth:
- October 26, 1954
- Place of Birth:
- Washington, D.C.
- Education:
- B.A. Stanford University, 1976; J.D., Yale Law School, 1979
Customer Reviews
Average Review:
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews
Stephen L. Carter is one of my FAVORITE Authors and once again he has a "best seller" on my list! This story is about President Lincoln, after being shot, but instead of dying, he lives and goes through an impeachment trial. Very well written and makes you say "hmmm..." what if? Even though this is fiction, there is a lot of true facts used and spun in a way that makes you wonder, just how much is truly fiction and what's real. A MUST READ!
Why do you invite reviews, then refuse to publish them? Bob Mills
Haven't you always wondered - what would have happened if Lincoln hadn;t been fatally shot? This is one possibility. Not only is the storytelling good, I am reminded of some historical aspects along the way. PLus the main character is worth knowing. I haven;t finished yet but I am eager to find out what happens.
Truly thought-provoking storyline.
One of the greatest authors out there today. This novel will hold the readers attention to the very end. What a masterful storyteller!
Richly developed characters play out an amazing storyline in this Lincoln book. By far one of my best reads in 2012.
Prof. Carter's combination of fact and fiction has produced a true page turner! This is a unique approach to a "what if..." situation in our history. I really enjoyed reading it.
Intricately woven, richly informed, and as plausible as anything in contemporary history, "The Impeachment" is a mix of courtroom drama and traditional mystery that aspires -- and achieves -- to be entertaining genre fiction, a study of American race relations, a recognition of women as political protagonists, and a realization of history's political corpus -- where time and place shape as much for the country as personage and character. This wasn't a fast read, or a shallow one, but Carter's attention to detail creates such a plausible escape from history that the reality becomes equally refreshed. The shine taken briefly from Lincoln here makes us only doubly more appreciative that we ever had him at all.
Fascinating concept and perspective on a highly bolatile period in American history.
As crazy as the title may sound, it answers a big question about history: what if Lincoln survived his shooting?
GREAT!!! GREAT!!! BOOK..... An absolutely awesome what if book. What a great imagination. This is by far his greatest effort to date.
Quite simply, a masterpiece Stephen L. Carter's fifth novel foreshadows many elements of our contemporary political dialogue. Should we embrace politicians whose motives to do the right thing are impure, or is it better to wait a generation for true idealists? Should Congress dictate the President's choice of cabinet secretaries? Do our judges and Supreme Court justices pursue political agendas? The reader encounters wry humor in the male protagonist's realization that marrying his high-school sweetheart will necessitate continual deference to her father's views, and in a salty character's introducing a prostitute to Queen Victoria's court as a Philadelphia socialite. The tour of seedier neighborhoods in the nation's capital is reminiscent of Tom Clancy's similar account of Baltimore. The plot is reminiscent of John Grisham's, the characters unforgettably drawn, the mixture of formal turgidity and anachronistic idiom – e.g., Lincoln's use of the phrase "on my watch" – amusing. There is a learned exposition of codes and ciphers, and, above all, the description of the impeachment trial itself is a riveting and revealing case study of the law and jurisprudence. One pleasurably expects more historical fiction from this author, whose own remarkable achievements, including a long and ongoing career as a law professor at Yale, parallel those of his heroine, whom we are left to imagine reuniting with the male protagonist.
Another read
A totally misnamed book. Boring, insipid and uninspired
This book should shed a bit of light on the President who consolidated and centralized all federal powers in the U.S., and also went against the constitutional provision for states to cede.


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San Fran: International Style Made Easy
Le Meridien San Francisco • San Francisco, CA
Escape Kit
- A One-Night Stay for Two in a Classic King
- A One-Night Stay for Two in an Executive King
- Or a One-Night Stay for Two in a Studio King
- Book Unlimited Nights for an Extended Stay
The Destination
Perched on seven storied hills above the azure waters of its namesake bay, San Francisco is a picture-perfect city famous for its candy-coated Victorian homes and poised Golden Gate Bridge. Brave its sloped streets by historic cable car and uncover distinctive neighborhoods that can be as unpredictable as the city's lingering fog. Pack a picnic to Dolores Park in the Mission District, walk along the Embarcadero to see the city's two bridges in focus, visit a tucked-away bookstore in North Beach, and climb to the top of Coit Tower at sunset. With so many ways to enjoy this city, it's easy to leave your heart in San Francisco.
The Digs
Set in the Financial District near the iconic Transamerica Pyramid, Le Meridien San Francisco is an upscale property that captures the mood of casual sophistication typical of this Northern California destination. Each classic, executive, and studio room features views of the city or the bay in a modern setting of down comforters, flat-screen televisions, satellite channels, balconies, and granite sinks.
After pounding the pavement on one of the city's unforgiving hills, return to Le Meridien's for a cocktail and a Mediterranean-inspired appetizer at Bar 333 & Bistro, and then order a market-fresh entrée at the Park Grill.
The Diversions
Start your morning with a walk across the Golden Gate Bridge toward the Marin Headlands, and when you return to the city, have breakfast and a famous Irish coffee at The Buena Vista. Pose for a shot with the Powell-Hyde Cable Car outside, and then greet the seals at Fisherman's Wharf. Later, have lunch at The Swan Oyster Depot before spending the rest of the afternoon at the California Academy of Sciences.
"Across Battery Street from the Embarcadero Center complex, this hotel attracts both leisure and business visitors with chic ambiance and international style."-- Read Fodor's Review of Le Meridien San Francisco
the fine print
- Credit card information and photo ID is required at check-in
- Reservation Name must match the name on the traveler's photo identification, which must be presented at check-in. Bookings are nontransferable.
- Escapes Bookings are only valid for the date(s) purchased and may not be exchanged or redeemed for any other dates; Escapes Bookings are subject to forfeiture
- Escapes Bookings expire on the date(s) purchased and times indicated on the Confirmation Email. You must redeem your Escapes Booking on the date(s) purchased and times indicated on the Confirmation Email
- Valid for up to 2 guests
- Taxes/resort fees not included and payable directly to the property
- Incidental charges, charges for additional services and gratuity at the hotel property are not included
- No refunds allowed
- Not valid on existing reservations or room block stays
- Escapes Bookings must be used in a single visit and cannot be combined with any other offer or promotion
- Other standard terms and conditions may apply; visit www.livingsocial.com/terms for more information
- Other conditions apply
Other conditions apply
Except where noted in the fine print:
• Cannot be combined with any other offer or promotion
• Tax and gratuity are not included
• Merchant is responsible for the quality of the products or services provided to you at redemption
• LivingSocial Terms and Conditions - https://www.livingsocial.com/terms

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Gangs in GTA IV Era
From Grand Theft Wiki
(Redirected from Gangs in GTA IV)
This page lists Mafia and gangs from games in the GTA IV Era.
This section includes gangs in GTA IV, The Lost and Damned, The Ballad of Gay Tony and Episodes from Liberty City:
- Algonquin Triads
- Midtown Gangsters
- Russian Mafia
- Albanians
- Italian Mafia
- Jewish Mob
- Irish Mafia
- Biker gangs
- African-American gangs
- Jamaicans
- Hispanic gangs
GTA Chinatown Wars
This section includes the gangs from Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars.
- Algonquin Triads
- Spanish Lords
- Midtown Gangsters
- Russian Mafia
- Italian Mob
- The Angels of Death
- Irish Mafia
- Jamaicans/Yardies
- African Americans
- The Lost Brotherhood


text:
I think you are talking about a Wilson Shok-Buff (?). If so, they are completely unnecessary and are just one more part to wear out and jam your pistol. Change your recoil spring occasionally and this part, like very many aftermarket 1911 add-ons, is totally irrelevant.
After all, the 1911 managed to work for about seventy years before the Shok-Buff was invented.


text:
I see a lot of mocks having him go at the 8th-10th pick, but it's been a long time since a guard has gone top 10.
Any Chance he falls to the 15th-17th pick range, allowing the Giants to trade up for him? This guy is the perfect (eventual) replacement for Kevin Boothe or Chris Snee. I really want him in this draft.


text:
This event, tacked on to a community celebration of Jewish heritage, wrongly conflates Judaism and Jewish values with uncritical support for Israel's policies. It represents the voice of the Israel lobby that wants to continue U.S. support for Israel's occupation. Israel continues to torture Palestinian political prisoners, steal Palestinian land for illegal settlements, destroy Palestinian homes, and kill unarmed demonstrators.
These violations of human rights and international law are NOT reflective of Jewish values or Jewish heritage.
U.S. taxpayers, meanwhile give more than $8 million a day to Israel, which along with diplomatic and military support from the U.S. government, enables it to continue the illegal and immoral occupation of Palestine's West Bank, siege against the people of Gaza, denial of refugee rights, and discriminatory practices against Palestinian citizens of Israel.


text:
Contemporary Digs Right Off Mag Mile
MileNorth, A Chicago Hotel • Chicago, IL
Escape Kit
- A One-Night Stay for Two in a Studio Guestroom, Signature Studio, or CityView Studio
- Combine Vouchers to Stay for Up to Two Nights
New York may have unfairly dubbed Chicago "the Second City," but when it comes to street nicknames, the Windy City has the Big Apple beat—after all, would you rather stroll down The Magnificent Mile or Madison Avenue? MileNorth, A Chicago Hotel puts you just a block from Chicago's superlative commercial and residential street, often called simply, "the Mag Mile." Running along a portion of Michigan Avenue, it serves as the main thoroughfare between Chicago's Loop business district and its Gold Coast, and is jam-packed with mid- to high-end shops, museums, restaurants, and historic buildings like the dual-towered Wrigley Building and the Old Chicago Water Tower District.
Home to the tallest building in the US, the 108-story Willis Tower, Chicago is generally considered the birthplace of the skyscraper—but you won't feel overwhelmed by the 213-room MileNorth, which previous visitors say is "an oasis in a town of big convention hotels." Architect Joel Hillman designed the original building, updated by a fusion of modernism elements mixed with neo-Classical, Art Deco, and classical design curated by MileNorth. Bold splashes of mango and avocado hues set off the white and chocolate-brown décor of the rooms, giving an urban update to the comfortable linens and furniture.
"MileNorth has the requisite contemporary-cool boutique hotel look, but its personal touches and low-key attitude gives it the feel of a small, neighborhood find," says Frommer's.
Chicago is a true foodie's town—from the hot dogs to the Chicago-style pizza— but if it's gusty or snowy in the Windy City, find organic ingredients and modern, seasonal dishes at C-House, MileNorth's in-house restaurant. Either way, you'll be fueled to conquer the best of Chicago's nightlife—whether that means an excursion to the theater or to your crisp white linens.
"... this hotel offers an outstanding 29th-floor outdoor bar with an enviable view of the city; the rooms are modern and homey, with a green, gray, and earth-tone palette. On the ground floor is the noted restaurant C-House."-- Read Fodor's Review of MileNorth, A Chicago Hotel
the fine print
- Up to two (2) vouchers may be combined to extend stay
- Not valid on group or existing reservations
- Credit card information is required at check-in
- Reservation confirmed with purchase, no additional reservation necessary
- Reservation name must match the name on the traveler's photo identification, which must be presented at check-in. Bookings are non-transferrable
- Escapes Bookings are only valid for the date(s) purchased and may not be exchanged or redeemed for any other dates; Escapes Bookings are subject to forfeiture
- Escapes Bookings are subject to the Merchant's cancellation policy: merchant cancellation/re-scheduling policy of 24 hours applies; voucher subject to forfeiture
- Escapes Bookings must be used in a single visit and cannot be combined with any other offer or promotion
- Maximum number of occupants for your Escapes Booking room is 2; fees may be applied for additional guests
- 16.4% sales tax is not included and will be collected at time of redemption
- Incidental charges, charges for additional services and gratuity at the hotel property are not included
- Other standard terms and conditions may apply; visit www.livingsocial.com/terms for more information
- Escapes Bookings expire on the date(s) purchased and times indicated on the Confirmation Email. You must redeem your Escapes Booking on the date(s) purchased and times indicated on the Confirmation Email
- Prices are subject to change at any time; your pricing is locked in after purchase
- Other conditions apply
Other conditions apply
Except where noted in the fine print:
• Cannot be combined with any other offer or promotion
• Tax and gratuity are not included
• Merchant is responsible for the quality of the products or services provided to you at redemption
• LivingSocial Terms and Conditions - https://www.livingsocial.com/terms


text:
forum: Chicken
#21 Sat 12 Jan 08 12:43am
Elvis Parsley
- Forum champ Occupation Checking your Missus out
- From www.myspace.com/elvisparsley
- Member since Tue 29 Jun 04
Re: Comments on HFW's CH4 programmes
To be fair Lisa, Jamie and Hugh and Gordon are Channel 4's big food stars. Looks to me like Jamie and Hugh hit upon the same idea through their own production companies and Gordon did his thing.
It's not so much a case of shameless self-promotion as tying stuff together. Channel 4 is the UK's 4th biggest channel by numbers but the first or second choice for those of us with brains (I'm counting you here!). I'll bet 3 or 4 million saw what we just saw!
I hate to say it as I'm 36, but "peace out".
(edited once more for appaling grammar)
Last edited by Elvis Parsley (Sat 12 Jan 08 1:07am)
#22 Sat 12 Jan 08 12:53am
- Member
- Member since Fri 11 Jan 08
Re: Comments on HFW's CH4 programmes
I really do hope that Jamie & HFW's quests help Great Britains chickens but who is going to then speak up for the far afield chickens who are going to obviously suffer the knock-on effects in the quest fo cheap supermarket poultry costs??
Sorry to be on such a downer but is it not the truth! No matter what though, anything is better than nothing!
Carry on the good work guys. I'm sure a lot of people have reconsidered their choice of supermarket chicken this weekend. x
#23 Sat 12 Jan 08 10:21am
Alex G
- Forum champ Occupation Student/Commis chef
- From Brighton/ Bournemouth
- Member since Sat 29 Oct 05
Re: Comments on HFW's CH4 programmes
lisamcginn wrote:
After just watching Jamie Oliver's Show I was appauled to see an advertisement for his next series of cookery programmes.
Was it all just an advertising campaign on the sickest level??
At the end of the day C4 need to make money, they do this by boosting viewing figures so that they can charge more for adverts. Obviously Jamie's programs bring in viewers so it would make sense of them (C4) to advertise this fact.
It's worked on me, I didn't know that show existed, but i'll probably watch it.
#24 Wed 30 Mar 11 2:32pm
- Member
- Member since Wed 30 Mar 11
Re: Comments on HFW's CH4 programmes
Check out our fantastic review of Jamie Oliver's Recipease on the Latest 7 website!


text:
Pat Rice has a rich history with Arsenal Football Club, having first joined as a player back in 1964.
A Northern Ireland International right back, he was a Double winner in 1971 and skippered the side to FA Cup glory in 1979.
In total, he made 528 appearances for the first team across 14 years, including five FA Cup finals and one European Cup Winners' Cup final.
After a spell with Watford, playing under Graham Taylor, he returned to Arsenal in 1984 as youth team coach, winning two FA Youth Cups before taking up a senior coaching role when Arsène Wenger arrived at Highbury in 1996.
Prior to Wenger's arrival, Pat had in fact briefly taken the reins as caretaker manager of the Club. His deep knowledge of both the game and the Club have been invaluable.
Pat Rice factfile:
Born: Belfast, March 17, 1949
Clubs as a player: Arsenal, Watford
|League Championship
|FA Cup
|1971, 1979
|Northern Ireland - 49 caps
|FA Youth Cup
|1988, 1994
|Premier League
|1998, 2002, 2004
|FA Cup
|2002, 2003, 2005


text:
Thanks to everyone in this thread http://forums.vwvortex.com/zerothread?id=1183244 for the photos and instructions on how to change a halogen bulb in the headlight assembly. The reason for this project was to obtain a closer match of color between the xenon and halogen bulbs when high beams are on. Note: mine is VAGed for the Euro headlights so both the xenon and the halogens are on when high beams are activated.
You can also read about changing fog light bulbs here: http://forums.vwvortex.com/zerothread?id=1241457
I changed my 55w OEM halogen bulbs to H7 70w Hoen xenonmatch Titanium bulbs. They can be purchased here: http://www.hoen-usa.com/ti.htm. After some research, I have determined that the increased wattage from the OEM 55w bulbs to the Hoen 70w bulbs should not be an issue. The total wattage per headlight assembly 105w (35w xenon + 70w halogen) is still less than the standard headlights that have two 55w halogen bulbs (110w total per side).
The process can be a little tricky if you don't know what to look for and/or expect. This is particularly true for removal and installation of the headlight assembly. Hopefully these instructions and photos will help.
1. Remove the side engine cover panels (if you have them).
2. Get the headlight crank tool from the spare tire storage compartment.
3. Insert the headlight crank tool onto the hex bolt. With one hand, push lightly on the front the headlight assembly to release the tension and start to twist the crank tool toward the "open" arrow. (This is all about feel, so don't force anything.) Continue to twist until the headlight assembly partially pushes out of its socket.
Note: The following two photos are to illustrate what happens when the cranking tool is twisted. The chrome bar in the two photos below is what is being moved when you crank. Going too far will break the assembly.
This photo shows the position of the chrome bar when it is partially closed. It will continue backward until it locks into place when you reinstall the assembly.
This photo shows the position of the chrome bar when it is in it's open position allowing the headlight assembly to slide out.
4. With a long straight screw driver push down on the release clip. There is a small hole in the radiator bulkhead to access the clip. (The access hole is shown in the first photo at the upper left center.) While pressing down on the retaining clip, use your other hand and pull the headlight assembly out a little more. Once you're beyond the clip, you're all set to remove the assembly. Grab it on each side and just pull straight out. There are no cables attached.
5. Once out, remove the large rubber cap on top of the headlight assembly.
6. The inside will look like this. Remove the wire harness from the bulb, unfasten the retainer clip, and pull the bulb out. The inside looks like this.
7. Reinstall the new bulb making sure not to touch the glass portion of the bulb, refasten the retainer clip, reattach the wire harness and replace the rubber cap. Make sure you have the rubber cap on tightly all the way around.
8. Replace the headlight assembly back into its cavity. Make sure that all the tracks line up so it slides in smoothly. Look underneath the assembly for the two rails on the bottom side.
9. Slide the assembly back into place until you hear a small click. Once you hear the click (retainer clip), with one hand continue to apply light pressure on the front of the headlight assembly and start twisting the crank tool to the close position. The crank tool will pull the headlight assembly back into the cavity easily. With some force, continue to twist the crank tool until you hear a rather loud snap. The snap means the headlight assembly is locked into place.
Here are the results.
Xenon & 55w OEM Halogen
Xenon & 70w Hoen xenonmatch Titanium
Driver's Side Modified / Passenger Side OEM Comparison
Both Sides Modified / Project Complete
Now that night has fallen, I had my first chance to really see the difference and let me tell you, the difference is awesome. You can not tell the difference in light color between the xenon and the halogen bulb. I highly recommend the Hoens. Here are some night photos. (Note: the spotlights off on the right side of the photos illuminating the barn are 100w halogens.)
Xenons Only
Fogs Only (yellow bulbs)
Xenons & Halogens (note: no color difference)


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[quote user="Bread"][quote user="Toadofsteel"]We don't count the eagles, they don't deserve to be in our division. They don't deserve to be in the NFL.
Hey, this is smack talk central I'm allowed to say that.[/quote]Believe me, we dont wanna be in this division...[/quote]I wouldn't either if my team out of all 4 still had 0 trophies.


text:
This site uses a level of encryption that ensures all the information you submit remains confidential.
Call us: 1-888-476-8737
There are administrative costs for the setting up and maintaining of your policy that are part of your annual premium. Rather than charging for these costs upfront when your policy is issued, we spread them over the term of the policy.
When a policy is cancelled mid-term, we have not recovered these costs in full, and the short rate cancellation is used to collect the remainder.
Please contact Technical Support at 1-866-944-4762 (Monday to Friday, 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. and Saturday, 8 a.m. - 2 p.m.).
If you cancel your policy at your renewal date, no fees are charged. Your policy will be cancelled on a pro rata basis.
However, if you need to cancel your policy during the term, the policy may be cancelled on a short rate basis, which includes additional administrative fees1.
1 A short rate cancellation refers to a policy that has been cancelled by you during the term of the policy, and that includes a recovery of some administrative costs charged for the time your policy has been active during the current term.
If you're an AccèsD member, you can benefit from Online Services directly from your AccèsD account—your one-stop resource for managing your home and auto insurance as well as your personal finances.
How to register:
The amount of the administrative fees depends on the number of days the policy has been active in the current term. In order to determine the amount of the fee, if applicable, please contact us and speak with an insurance agent.
All home and auto policyholders can use our Online Services.
All named policyholders can access Online Services for this contract. Each insured must register for online services with a separate email address and password. Each person will have individual access to the same policy.
To access Online Services, family members must create individual accounts with their own email address and password. The same email address cannot be used for different accounts. Only policyholders can access their policies through Online Services.
No more rummaging around for your insurance policy! Thanks to our Online Services, you can access your policies in just a few clicks whenever you choose.
You can also:
Our Online Services also include your communication history, where you can find all messages related to your account.
All online requests and transactions are automatically saved in your communication history. You can view message details and reply or add comments.
If you're already a customer but aren't registered for Online Services, you can create an account right now.
With Online Services you can:
You can file a claim online at any time of the day or night using our Online Services.
Go to the Claims section and complete the form. It will be transferred to a claims advisor, who will call you back for followup on the next business day.
Your Communication History is where you can find all messages related to your account.
All online requests and transactions are automatically saved in your Communication History.
Click on a specific message to view the details and any followup messages. You can also reply or add a comment to the last remark regarding the message.
If you're a tenant and you're moving to a new apartment, you can change your address entirely online using our Online Services.
Otherwise, you can start your change of address online and an agent will contact you afterwards for more information concerning your new home.
Please note that your change of address may affect your home or auto insurance premium.
You can view and modify your home and auto insurance policies online. This service is available only to personal insurance customers.
Post-dated policies are not accessible through Online Services until they come into effect.
Yes, the short rate tables are filed and approved with all of the provincial regulators.
Before cancelling your policy, we encourage you to speak with an agent to review your situation and determine if there are any other options we can offer you.
If the policy must be cancelled, the agent will be able to process your request over the phone. Alternatively, you may also request the cancellation of your policy by sending us a request in writing by mail or fax.
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In his CM: the Next Generation series, Joe Farah gives us a glimpse into the trends that CM experts will need to tackle and master based upon industry trends and future technology challenges.
I got a chance to take in a fair bit of the ALM EXPO this year and some good talks that were still accessible. In the opening keynote, however, I was surprised at how the panelists responded to one of the questions pertinent to this month's journal. The question was: Does size matter for application lifecycle management (ALM)? The answers tended to center around level of implementation and complexity of the application: Are the teams operating globally? Are they small enough for verbal communication?
The implication seemed to be that ALM was not as important for very small organizations as for larger ones, or at least that a less full implementation was acceptable. At first glance, this seems to make sense - more people to manage, more files to manage, etc. And there is no question that ALM is necessary for large teams.
Let's put the question in perspective, though. Say that you're a small firm and you have to produce and deliver a product that can compete with those from larger firms. Your product has to be not only as good of a product offered by your competitors, but a better product. Also, you don't have the same amount of staff to draw from to get it done.
Which parts of the ALM function can you afford to skip? Which parts can you afford to do manually? Which parts can the larger competitors afford to do manually? None. None. Some. As a small business, you still have to compete on level terms. Whereas your large competitors can throw manpower at enforcing process, and can put manual processes in place if they don't have their tools quite right, you don't have such spare resources. A small business relies much more on strong tools, good processes and automation simply because it can't afford not to.
So yes, size does matter for ALM, but it's the smaller companies that need the more complete solutions. They still need to track requirements, customer requests, backlogs, builds, source code, test suites, documentation, problems, etc. They still need disaster recovery, backups, integration, etc. And then they need zero administration, strong pre-defined processes, higher levels of automation, and, of course, very high reliability. Who can afford the staff to deal with administration, process customization, lower levels of automation, or down time? Perhaps the larger firms, but definitely not the small ones.
So ALM is critical for small teams. On top of that, add another 20 team members to a small team and you've got a fair bit of change that you must adapt to - so your ALM solution better allow you to adapt. For a large team, 20 new members is hardly a blip, and if the ALM solution doesn't adapt, just throw some manual labor at it. Growth is another reason small teams need ALM.


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The Golden State
Cali is the place to go
It is the universe
Never stopping, never
Take a sip from the
Set things back into
Places like Brooklyn are
Cuz everyone's
California dreamin'
The vibe from L.A. to
The Bay is like an
Hits your mind like an
Now you know what
to do, it waits for you
Cali is the place to go
— Sebastian Garcia
Garcia is a junior at
Los Alamos High School.
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CU-Boulder took a personnel action against an employee on Tuesday, March 4, without incident. Police assisted with the personnel action as a routine procedure. The university cannot provide or confirm details on the individual who was the subject of the personnel action, or on the reasons for the personnel action, due to employee confidentiality. At this time, the university does not believe that there is a threat to students or the general campus.


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Between midnight and 3am tonight (central time) there will be an upgrade performed to the server's storage system. This will result in approximately 30 minutes of downtime. In the future this will allow for hardware upgrades/migrations without any downtime. No site data will be lost, but please keep local copies of any posts you are actively working on around that time.
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^w^ Hai everyone!
Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Tandy Skyes, Jan 27, 2016.
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Capture The Flag in High Schools
I would really like to start a competition in the high schools around where I live. I have been a teacher years ago and I also did some volunteer work in on high school, etc.
I think teenagers interested in InfoSec are often left learning tools by themselves and if not guided properly, can start hacking networks everywhere without permissions...
Finally, I am a French Canadian and there is close to no resource in French in this field.
So, I would like to create some kind of a club among different high schools in my city where we could meet once a month or something like that and organize a CTF among them. I really, really want to focus on the legal aspect of it. I want them to be White Hats, not the opposite...
Do you guys think it would be a good idea? Have anyone done that before?
Thanks for your advice!
(aka H1t.M0nk3y)


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Indigenous peoples and local communities have made enormous contributions to the maintenance of some of the Earth's most fragile ecosystems. Today they are challenged by many of the same forces that threaten nature, such as pressures from extractive industries and infrastructure development. Climate change and other global trends are likely to accelerate the loss of the natural habitats and resources upon which indigenous people depend.
What we doWWF collaborates with indigenous peoples and local communities on activities such as conservation area management, sustainable use of natural resources, and influencing relevant policy and decision-making. These partnerships depend on an understanding of the links between people and their environment, appreciation of people's contributions to biodiversity conservation over time, their traditional knowledge and recognition of their rights and interests.
We work to support indigenous and traditional peoples to sustainably manage their resources, and to maintain, use, and strengthen their traditional ecological knowledge. In doing so, we fully respect the peoples' human and development rights, and recognize the importance of the conservation of their cultures.
Read more:
► FORMADAT: Peoples in the Heart of Borneo, Indonesia
► Áreas naturales protegidas y participación local, Peru
► Sacred Land, Sacred People: the Himalayas
► Respect rights and improve livelihoods, WWF US


text: I went hunting around for info on Saalim Hakim when I heard he was Az Hakim's brother and he ran a 4.22. Not a lot out there, but I found a few interesting things... 6'1" / 190 and hand-timed at 4.22/4.23 at a pro day and 20 on the bench. According to Tarleton's website, he didn't play football until his Freshman year at Junior College. Played soccer in HS. He's been listed as an UDFA from Tarleton St. He declared last year but screwed up sending in his paperwork and missed the NFL deadline for declaring. So he went to play in the UFL in 2011. He played for the Las Vegas Locomotives (Locos) in the UFL. Head Coach of the Locos is Jim Fassel. Who was the head coach for the Giants when Garrett was there? Jim Fassel. Reminiscent of the Norv and Laurent Robinson situation, though with a far less ready player. The Locos are also owned (partly) by someone named Rob Ryan. But it's not our Lebowski. It's a different Lebowski. Just a weird coincidence. Limited opportunity in the UFL. There are only 4 teams in the league. Lack of funds forced them to shorten their season to 4 or 5 games I think. He was also a special teams gunner for the Locos. Hakim is bleepin' fast. Not just straight-line fast. He's bleepity bleepin' fast going in and out of his cuts. He shows an ability to reach full speed almost immediately and chews up the CBs cushion. He can stop on a dime and start up again. And he seems to have hands for WR (rather than Newman hands) and fine body control. I'm just going off highlight videos, so maybe the hands aren't there fulltime. The QBs he's been playing with can't throw far enough or accurate enough to take advantage of Hakim's separation. If he ever figures it out, his ceiling is enormous. If you haven't looked him up on Youtube already, here he is as a Sophomore, having played football all of 1 year at Palomar JC... [YOUTUBE]s98UTLjcWRE[/YOUTUBE] He's limited to a couple routes. Now, here's a video of his work with the Locos 2 years later... [YOUTUBE]sir5GjOeD5A[/YOUTUBE] Clear improvement on his routes, adjustment to the ball, getting a clear release from the line, etc. The guy runs like a shifty 5'9" guy...except he's 6'1" and 190. Kind of shocked he's not a returner. We'll see what he does against other world class athletes, but he might breakout in training camp. [YOUTUBE]ms7X6_YG5Io[/YOUTUBE]


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Choose from all the topics in the menu or browse the most popular questions below.
Most Popular Questions
- How do I register for My Toyota??
Please visit www.toyota.com.au/owners
- Where can I find my vehicle's Vehicle Identification or Batch number?
Your Vehicle Identification Number (VIN) can be found on your vehicle's compliance label, registration certificate or printed on the Retail Delivery Card, which may be in your vehicle's Service & Warranty booklet. Your vehicle's Batch number may also be found on the Retail Delivery Card.
- What happens if I lose all the keys to my vehicle?
You must contact an authorised Toyota Dealer so they can order a replicated key. It is possible that the Engine Control Unit may also need replacing. The Toyota dealer will work with you to organise another key replacement.
- Can I have my Toyota serviced by an independent/non Authorised repairer?
While any reputable mechanic will do their best to service your Toyota for safe driving, the best way to be 100% sure your Toyota is serviced correctly is to trust it to the expert Technicians at your Toyota Service Centre. With their sophisticated diagnostic equipment, Toyota specific training, authorisation to conduct repairs under warranty, and use of Toyota Genuine Parts, you can be sure your Toyota is in the best of hands. The Toyota new car warranty may not cover claims or damages caused by the failure of non-genuine parts used by some vehicle repairers.
- Can I use Petrol blended with Ethanol in my Toyota?
For vehicles manufactured or imported by Toyota Australia:
TOYOTA (Passenger Models)
Locally produced Toyota models will operate satisfactorily on petrol fuel blended with 10% ethanol (E10) from the following production dates:
Camry: from Jan 1987 (All electronic fuel injection models)
Hybrid Camry: All
Corolla: from July 1994
Aurion: All
Avalon: All
Lexcen: All
(Note: Previous production and Corona model not recommended due to incompatability of material)
Enthanol blend greater than 10% is not approved
All Toyota passenger vehicles fully imported by Toyota Australia will operate on petrol fuel blended with 10% ethanol (E10), except older models:
(Note: E10 not recommended due to incompatiibility of material) Enthanol blend greater than 10% is not approved.
TOYOTA (Commercial Models)
All Toyota Commercial vehicles imported by Toyota Australia will operated on petrol fuel blended with 10% ethanol (E10), except models fitted with a carburettor as listed:
Coaster Bus: pre Jan 1993 (carburettor engine)
Dyna: pre May 1995 (carburettor engine)
Tarago: pre Oct 1996 (carburettor engine)
Hilux: pre Aug 1997 (carburettor engine)
Hiace: pre Aug 1997 (carburettor engine)
4 Runner: pre Aug 1997 (carburettor engine)
Townace: pre Dec 1998 (carburettor engine)
LandCruiser: pre Aug 1992 (carburettor & EFI engine)
(Note: E10 not recommended due to incompatibility of material) Enthanol blend greater than 10% is not approved.
- If I leave a lengthy time between services, will this impact my warranty?
Regular scheduled servicing is vital to maintain the performance of your car. You should always follow the recommended service intervals as outlined in your vehicle Warranty & Service Handbook, including any additional service requirements that your vehicle may need. Your Toyota warranty does not cover damage caused by inadequate maintenance.
- If I have my vehicle serviced by someone other than a Toyota Dealer, will this void my warranty?
If a licensed vehicle repairer services your Toyota vehicle in accordance with Toyota's servicing guidelines, then normal warranty coverage will apply. It is however important to note that if a non-genuine part is fitted to your Toyota and that part's failure or the incorrect fitment damages your vehicle, then that damage may not be covered by your Toyota Warranty. For peace of mind servicing, we recommend you visit your authorised Toyota Service Centre who uses Toyota Genuine Parts and has Toyota trained technicians.


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Reviewed By Don C (Gilbert, SC) —5/13/2017 6:34 AM
Fits as it should. Nice workmanship and chrome is excellent.
Since tips are the only visual sign of an upgraded exhaust, it's no wonder that tips are on the tip of everyone's tongue, which why we wanna talk about how to install Gibson tips.
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The easiest way to dress up your ride is with a set of aftermarket chrome exhaust tips. Oversized, bright and gleaming, exhaust tips attract attention from the ladies. Well, maybe not the ladies, but at least the ladies' car enthusiast boyfriends. Which is good…right? There's some long con opportunity there, we think. You can figure it out.


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Dale Lewis of Buffalo harvested this 10-point buck with a 300 mini mag rifle during Modern Gun Season in November. The deer weighed 200 pounds.
If you currently subscribe or have subscribed in the past to the LaRue County Herald, then simply find your account number on your mailing label and enter it below.
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Melissa Rivers: Kathy Griffin "Sh– All Over My Mother's Legacy"
May 14, 2015 7:49 PM EDT
Melissa Rivers isn't pulling any punches! In a sit-down chat with Hoda Kotb at the 92nd Street Y in New York City on Wednesday, the conversation naturally turned to Fashion Police. Melissa Rivers says Jay Leno snubbed her after her mother's death Evi… Read more


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A little blue cat from Sorcerous Stabber Orphen. Although Leki may look like a little blue cat, it's actually a baby Deep Dragon, it seems. Therefore it's extremely rare, and extremely powerful. Leki has chosen Cleo, for reasons only known to itself, and follows her around as sort of her pet. Leki is capable of blowing stuff up as well as other things, so it can defend itself if it wishes too.
by Samurai Katsu September 17, 2003


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Binghamton University Alumni Association welcomes new board member
BINGHAMTON, NY – The Binghamton University Alumni Association announced that it has selected Paul Aversano to serve on its Board of Directors. Directors serve two-year terms with a maximum of three consecutive terms.
Aversano received a bachelor of science degree in accounting from Binghamton University's School of Management (SOM) in 1993. He is currently a managing director and national practice leader of the Transaction Advisory Group at Alvarez & Marsal. Aversano has been an alumni panelist/speaker and moderator of the SOM Young Alumni Advisory Council panel, a board member for the SOM Young Alumni Advisory Council from 2002-2005, and a keynote speaker for Beta Alpha Psi honor society. Aversano is married to Sylvia (Crecco) Aversano, a 1993 graduate of Binghamton University. They reside in Manhasset Hills, NY.
Binghamton University is one of the four university centers of the State University of New York. Known for the excellence of its students, faculty, staff and programs, Binghamton enrolls over 14,500 students in programs leading to bachelor's, master's and doctoral degrees. Its curriculum, founded in the liberal arts, has expanded to include selected professional and graduate programs.
For more, visit www.binghamton.edu.


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View Comment
Posted at 9:00 AM on February 20, 2013
cHRIS MAKE SURE YOU STAY WHO YOU ARE. AS I SAID ONCE, DO NOT LET ANYOME BRING YOU DOWN. tELL YOURSELF EVERY DAY "I AM AN ANGEL I AM NOT WHO THEY THINK I AM'. WORDS ARE WEAPON THAT DESTROY A MAN BLESS AND PRAISE YOURSELF ALL OF THE TIME. YOU ARE A GREAT AND IMPORTANT PERSON KEEP SMILLIMG AND KEEP HAPPY.
Posted at 10:37 PM on February 19, 2013
Posted at 9:12 AM on February 13, 2013
Markia Mitchem
Posted at 10:26 PM on February 12, 2013
mbunwe henrietta
Posted at 10:24 AM on February 17, 2013
Posted at 11:12 PM on March 7, 2013


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Please find our latest news below:
A pioneering range of next generation cable rods has been launched by Carl Kammerling International
Carl Kammerling International, has extended its popular range of screwdrivers
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Superintendent responds to guard's criticism about shooting
Scott Murphy sends letter to Arapahoe High School parents
CENTENNIAL, Colo. - The superintendent of Littleton Public Schools responded to comments from a school security guard who criticized the district for failing to prevent last month's fatal shooting at Arapahoe High School.
Scott Murphy sent a letter to parents defending the conduct of school administrators. Her also asked parents to be patient while authorities investigate the shooting and avoid making judgments based on rumor and false information.
Claire Davis, 17, died after being shot by classmate Karl Pierson, 18.
Earlier this week, Cameron Rust generated a heated debate on social media by posting a letter claiming that administrators knew about past threatening behavior by Pierson but failed to act.
The past behavior included threatening a teacher's life and using a school computer to search online for guns to buy, Rust said.
Rust said his concern about Pierson led administrators to place him on paid leave and try to keep him quiet about the matter.
Arapahoe student Taylor Hamilton said she agrees with Murphy's advice and hopes parents will, too.
"We don't want to jump to conclusions too quickly because we don't want to be too quick to judge -- him, the administration or just the whole situation," she said.


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Current Weather: Holland, MI
- Clear sky
The department of music at Hope College will present performances by 13 finalists during the fourth annual Hope College Young Artists Piano Competition on Saturday, Jan. 26, in Dimnent Memorial Chapel.
The competition will run from 1:30 p.m. to 5:30 p.m. The winners will be announced at 6:30 p.m., with a small reception following.
Admission is free and the public is encouraged to attend.
Audience members may stay for all or only a portion of the competition.
The Young Artists Piano Competition is open to talented high school pianists ages 13 through 18 living in Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Wisconsin. The finalists have been selected from a preliminary recording round to compete for cash awards and scholarships. The competitors are required to perform two or more memorized pieces of their choice totaling 15 to 20 minutes of music.Additional information on the competition may be found at hopeyoungartists.com.
Dimnent Memorial Chapel is located at 277 College Ave., on College Avenue at 12th Street.


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Hello and good morning!
This is my first real post outside of my introduction, so please forgive me if I post in the wrong area.
I want to start my own apiary. I have done some research, but I have been pretty much going in circles and still have some unanswered questions.
This is my first year I will be beekeeping. I want to do a top-bar hive, as I see it will be cheaper to build. Is this a wise decision to do? I'm sure many people start with this when starting their own apiary. I have read of the comb (please pardon the lack of correct terminology, I'm working on it) growing on the sides or growing together from one bar to another. Would a flexible wooden frame in the top-bar help prevent this? I realize this may not be a minimalist approach, I'm just trying to avoid complications.
I know where I will put them (I plan to build two, maybe 38 in. long, if I remember the dimensions correctly), as it will get good sun in the morning but will have shade in the afternoon (I've read this is the best place to but them). I've heard of setting up two hives for comparison. Is there a recommended distance between the two? Also would it be wise to paint them bright colors?
I've also read of diseases and parasites, though none of the sites I've found have explained to me really what they are nor how to prevent them. I understand moisture can be a contributing factor, but are there other factors I need to be aware of? Maybe that is explained on another forum, I don't know.
I also kinda understand the basic idea of a swarm, and have read this is one of the best ways to go, since they are more... "hardy" I guess than buying them. But I'm a little hesitant on going to catch them on my own. Is it really bad to buy your own set of bees the first year? And do you have to buy or catch them every year?
I live in Michigan, where the temperature right now is a blistering 6 degrees Ferienheit. What would be the best way to winterize them in a top-bar hive? Again in my research I have not really found a method, most sites say to wrap them and make sure they have food.
I know this is a lot, and I do apologize. Up here in Michigan it doesn't really seem to have a big network (none that I could easily find anyway). I know there is going to be a class in March which I plan to attend but I know right now is the best time to get everything ready. It seems like everyone has their own "style" to it, but I guess I'm a little confused as to what the "standards" of bee keeping are.
Any help would be appreciated. Thank you.


text: Back in from my 3rd try at grafting. Friday, I guess I got the larvae too old (but they were so easy to see) and none of ten took. Regrafted all ten yesterday. Both hives are just feisty mad. The one queen less and egg less, self explanatory. The one I need to take an 8 frame med off that is my shoulder height and honey heavy, not fun. They are normally easy going, but I think they are sick of me disturbing them as the nectar flow slows and the heat ramps. So, today I check and I have 2 of ten. So, I'm back at it again. This hive with their 2 queen cells, not so bad. The other with eggs, grr. After two attempts for find larvae the right age in the top box (they were too angry), I give up and go to my nuc with a new queen and get some of her larvae. I don't even know how she lays, but I'm too busy all week for another try, so it's today or bust. All went well, used my super strong bifocals and a magnifier and found those tiny hatchlings. I did 6 into unprimed plastic cups (didn't want to harm the 2 good ones). It's over 100 outside and I was just about done and needed to hoist that heavy deep back on top and got stung thru my gloves on both hands. Ouch! There, I'm done grumbling. Let's just hope it was worth it. I'll know at the weekend how many nucs to get ready (only wanting 4 or 5, really, plus 1 for the hive raising them).