Eight years of the Bush/Cheney crime cartel have shown us many things that are wrong with America. Luckily for us, the long national nightmare is nearly over.

Bush and Cheney will scurry out of Washington as the most distrusted and despised leaders in our history. A new era of American greatness will return when Barack Obama and Joe Biden take office next Tuesday.

Instead of focusing upon the evildoers leaving office, or the courageous men we hired to clean up their mess, I'd rather look at the unsung heroes of this city, the ones who go to work each day at their small businesses and who are now struggling to survive.

Because I have a secure, unionized job where my rights are guaranteed, and my wife is making pretty good cash as a journalist, it was a merrier Christmas than usual at the Hammer home this year. We work hard, and we're far from rich, but we were each able to splurge on a couple of holiday gifts.

And the most satisfying experiences I had were at mom-and-pop, locally owned businesses, where the owners genuinely want your business and give you extra attention. What I fear is that the Bush Depression is going to drive some of these places out of business and the only thing that will save them is if we make the extra effort to keep them afloat.

We're already seeing the evidence of the Depression on the multinational chains: the Starbucks at Fall Creek and College is now gone. Drive down 86th Street and you'll see acres of retail space that have been abandoned.

The only way we'll get through this is to work together and to reward our fellow citizens who provide jobs at their small businesses. Wal-Mart could care less about you, whether you're a customer or an employee.

But most of the local businesses I went to during the holiday season earned my respect and my loyalty because they actually cared about my satisfaction. Most of the businesses that advertise in this newspaper are exactly like that, and I plead with you to patronize them.

Mass Ave Toys earned my eternal affection for their delightful selection of items, their reasonable prices and the personalized attention I received from them. The $40 I spent there didn't make or break them, but they shepherded me around their store, helping me find the perfect gifts for my sister-in-law.

Also on Massachusetts Avenue, the venerable Stout's Shoes helped me find the exact fit for my misshapen, mutant feet. One foot is an 11.5 5E and the other is a 12 5E. Nowhere else, on the Internet or at a chain store, would someone patiently measure, re-measure and locate exactly what I needed, all the while refraining from making jokes about my porcine feet.

Paul's Barber Shop at 52nd and College is a national treasure. Paul has been cutting hair at the same location since 1962 and still has the magic touch. He deserves a column of his own, if not a book.

There are so many other places I can mention. Taj of India, across the street from Castleton Square Mall, not only has the best Indian food in the city, in the opinion of myself and my wife, they also exhibit an attention to detail and customer service you won't find at a chain restaurant.

Northside News, its accompanying café and Sam's Gyros next door are the same way. They're the best in the city at what they do and they're owned by local people that give a damn about you.

Birdy's, the Melody Inn and all the nightclubs. Yats. And hundreds more I don't have room to mention. Give your money to these places.

Yes, the new president is going to turn this economy around. But it's going to take time. While we're waiting, the very least we can do is support the local businesses who have supported us for so many years.

You may not have much money to spend, but, for heaven's sake, please spend it with local merchants. If they disappear, then the terrorists - Bush and Cheney and their big-business friends - will have won.

Indiana Black Expo

The 36th annual Indiana Black Expo is in full swing this week, and the events scheduled through Sunday, July 16 continue the decades-long tradition of showcasing African-American achievements in culture, art, history and economics as part of the Summer Celebration. The event also examines the successes and challenges of black-owned and -operated businesses and health problems that are especially prevalent in the black community, and it offers advice to young African-Americans on how to succeed not only in K-12 but in higher education as well.

For complete information for all Indiana Black Expo Summer Celebration events go to www.indianablackexpo.com or call 317-925-2702.

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Grave Mistakes

by Laura McPhee | Jun 28th, 2006

Crown Hill Cemetery lies just north of downtown Indianapolis, and for nearly 150 years it has been both a place of rest and refuge for the citys residents. Across more than 500 acres, the sprawling hills and lush landscape have provided a quiet oasis of forgotten beauty for both the living and the dead since its dedication in June of 1864.

Over the past century and a half, the graves of poets, presidents, playwrights and gangsters have given the cemetery its caché as a symbol of Indianas historic past, especially those buried atop the now prestigious Crown Hill, the highest geographic point in the city and the county. With its panoramic views and its social prestige, it seems the closer an individual is buried to the peak of Crown Hill, the closer he or she is to immortality if not closer to heaven. The large headstones will at least guarantee the living go on remembering these lives and their legacies for countless generations to come.

In sharp contrast to the names of Riley, Harrison, Tarkington, Ayres, Eiteljorg, Kittle, Tutweiller and Irsay that mark the most impressive tombs on Crown Hill proper, there is a much smaller, much easier to overlook plot of land known as Community Hill. These graves tell a different type of story about our Hoosier past one of poverty, neglect and social amnesia; stories most of us dont know or dont want to know. Community Hill is where the citys indigents, widows and orphans have been unceremoniously buried for more than a century. In most cases, these lives and histories have been omitted from history, if not erased.

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Every few years, the music scene of Indianapolis seems to experience a near-complete turnover of bands. Older bands fade away and new groups crop up to take their place. The breakout bands weve selected for this story have vastly different styles, but all share a strong work ethic, the ability to please a crowd and ambitions of becoming well-known in cities other than Indianapolis.

The Virgin Millionaires and The Elms both have already established names for themselves on a national level, with Stereo Deluxe not far behind. And while literally dozens and dozens of local bands have achieved greatness and could have been chosen for this story, these three are symbolic of Indianapolis rock in the 21st century. Theyre ballsy, smart and willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their dreams.

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If its Fathers Day, it must be time for this citys annual celebration of Americas gift to the world: jazz. Indy Jazz Fest is a three-day musical feast that brings some of the best musicians in the world together to play jazz in all its many guises. That so many of these musicians have learned and practice their art right here in Indianapolis one of jazzs great proving grounds only adds to Jazz Fests natural strut. This is the weekend where Indy opens its doors and welcomes everybody to what amounts to a great family reunion.

And like all good family reunions, this one, produced by the American Pianists Association and presented by Kroger, will also feature plenty of good food and drink, not to mention the green grass of Military Park. It doesnt matter what the weather report says, Indy Jazz Fest is one of this citys coolest weekends of the year.

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With liberty and justice for some
Pride and Prejudice

Laura McPhee

Download a PDF of NUVO's Guide to Equality here. (Requires Adobe Acrobat Reader)

The roots of gay rights advocacy

The riots at the Stonewall Inn in New York on June 28, 1969, marked a crucial moment in American history. For the first time, gay men and women took to the streets angry and proud, fighting their police attackers and brazenly demanding an end to the institutionalized oppression that characterized their lives. The risk of such public acts in 1960s America cannot be understated.

At the time of the Stonewall riots, the federal government had just the year before ceased its Pervert Elimination Campaign that required State Department officials to annually report the number of homosexual employees who had been purged from the federal government; more than half of all state Legislatures had passed sexual psychopath laws that legally designated homosexuality a threat to public safety; sodomy was illegal in all 50 states; and, even in New York, it was illegal for bars to serve alcohol to known or suspected homosexuals, just as it was illegal for couples of the same sex to dance together in public.

When the police raided the Stonewall Inn on June 28, 1969, intent on arresting its patrons simply for being homosexual, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Gay bars themselves were illegal, and sending out the paddy wagons to round up the gay clientele was standard political fare and good media fodder.

By the one-year anniversary of Stonewall, however, the first wave of gay rights advocacy had officially taken hold, particularly in New York, where organizers planned to commemorate the events of the previous year with what would become known as the first Gay Pride March from Greenwich Village to Central Park.

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The new P.C.

Primary Colours wields its grass-roots clout on an art-shy city


Natalie Ingle


Fred Shields and Jeff Martin, founders of Primary Colours
The legend behind the groups name sounds a bit like a bad joke: One night, in the year 2000, two guys are sitting in a bar with a couple of beers, trying to figure out what to call their new art association. Suddenly, the bartender looks up and says, How about Primary Colours?

Theres no punchline, but the name stuck and the little organization that began with two idealistic artists and a pair of pints has grown to become a certified 501(c)(3) non-profit with a board 10 members strong and over $50,000 worth of fund-raising beneath its belt. Theyve hosted some of Indys most unorthodox art events and dabbled in ethical controversy. And while their name is still largely unknown outside the artistic community, Primary Colours has every intention of spicing up the Midwestern palette permanently.

But our story actually begins back in 1997 when things were looking a little more dour. The state of art in Indianapolis was relatively grim for a city of its size, with only two major studio facilities to act as anchors of the artistic community: the Faris Building (closed in 1999), in which artists lived and worked, and the non-residential Stutz Building. There were a handful of upscale galleries, but most catered to traditional painting styles and expensive tastes, leaving little room for experimental and emerging artists. Coffee shops like The Abbey and MT Cup on Massachusetts Avenue welcomed rotating displays of contemporary work, and there were opportunities in a few restaurants and corporate lobbies, but such venues held obvious limitations. Even the local government kept a cool distance from the scene, and the Arts Council itself, under a different administration then, was conspicuously detached from the individual artist. For someone looking to build a name in the art world, exposure to the public is critical and without a studio to display during publicized open houses, a working relationship with a gallery or the funds to hold ones own event, the opportunities for a solo artist in Indianapolis were uncomfortably dry.

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