Maryland

For one season the American Basketball Association set up shop in the Nation's Capital, as the defending league champion — and star player Rick Barry — moved from Oakland to D.C.  But almost as soon as the Washington Caps arrived in 1969, they were gone. So why didn't D.C.'s team last?

Dr. Michael Halberstam and his wife, Elliott, had planned to go to a movie after leaving their friends’ cocktail party, but they decided to make a quick stop back at home first. Michael parked the car and went inside the couple’s Palisades D.C. home to let out their two dogs, Iris and Jake. Elliot headed around back to meet the pups. It was about 8:45 pm – well after dark in the late fall. Moments later, the doctor was staring down the barrel of snub-nosed revolver in his own kitchen.

The odd chain of events that came next would uncover one of the largest — and strangest — crime operations in Washington, D.C. area history.

Dusk was approaching when Norman Morrison pulled into the Pentagon parking lot on November 2, 1965. Parking his two-tone Cadillac in the lot, he walked toward the north entrance, carrying his 11-month old daughter, Emily, and a wicker picnic basket with a jug of kerosene inside. Reaching a retaining wall at the building’s perimeter, the 31-year-old Quaker from Baltimore climbed up and began pacing back and forth. Around 5:20 pm, he yelled to Defense Department workers who were leaving the building.

Then, the unthinkable.

This may be hard to believe, but once upon a time record companies did not believe the Beatles could have a successful career in America. Yes, you read that right. The Beatles. Not having success. Crazy right? Luckily, for all of us, one teenager knew better and lit the fuse for Beatlemania with a simple letter to her local D.C. radio station.

When readers of the Washington Evening Star opened their papers on August 25, 1933 they needed no reminder of what had just befallen the city. Two days earlier, the fiercest storm the nation’s capital had seen in decades pushed a wall of water up the Chesapeake Bay and Potomac River. In a matter of hours, over six inches of rain fell on D.C. 51-mph winds toppled trees. Floodwaters submerged highways. Roofs were torn off buildings. A train crossing the Anacostia River was swept off its tracks. The list went on… Damage was even worse in Ocean City, yet the storm was also a cause for celebration. Huh?

Go-go music is a signature Washington, D.C. sound and the D.C. Public Library has started an archive to preserve its history. Archivist Derek Gray is leading the charge and is seeking heirlooms related to the D.C. go-go scene: CDs and audio recordings of Chuck Brown and other go-go artists, flyers, posters, event advertisements, photographs, videos, DVDs, and other memorabilia. Help preserve the legacy of D.C.’s homegrown sound for future generations!

In 2005, Ethiopian restaurateurs led a campaign to rename a strip of Ninth Street between U and T Little Ethiopia, to reflect the contributions that Ethiopians made to the Shaw neighborhood over the previous decade.  These business leaders faced backlash, however, from Shaw’s African-American community who thought the renaming campaign discounted the neighborhood’s proud African-American history.

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One of the most memorable neighborhood block parties in recent memory kicked into gear as the Olympic flame came to Washington in the summer of 1996.  From Rockville to Reston, area residents got into the Olympic spirit as they welcomed the unusual guest.

“There ain’t no party like an R.E. party, cause an R.E. party don’t stop.” Rare Essence, known around the DMV as “the most wickedest band alive,” has been one of the region’s most popular go-go acts for over 40  years despite several setbacks which could have easily ended the party.  

In the midst of the final countdown to the new millennium at 11:59 p.m. on December 31, 1999, people were waiting for more than confetti to fly and the ball to drop. Eyes around the world were locked on computer systems to see if the technology would advance with the clock. As news outlets had warned the public for months, the so-called Y2K bug was expected to affect, and potentially paralyze thousands of computer systems worldwide, and WMATA was taking no chances when it came to making sure Metro would be running when the year 2000 arrived.