A merican
Magazine of American University
hitting the streets
n ew yo rk
philadelphia
b a l t i m o re
washington, d.c.
Summer/August 2009
Donors Make a
Difference
David and Nina Roscher
“American
University is pleased to acknowledge
the philanthropic spirit of AU friend David Roscher and honor the memory of his
late wife, Nina Roscher, a longtime member of AU’s faculty and administration. The
Roschers included generous provisions in their charitable estate plans to endow funds in
support of students, faculty, and the Department of Chemistry.
“David and Nina’s vision for the future is an inspiration for all who benefit from
our community of learning,” says newly appointed College of Arts and Sciences dean
Peter Starr.
Nina came to AU in 1974. An accomplished researcher and lecturer, she
stayed rooted in the classroom; influencing students individually in her role as
chemistry professor and on a larger scale as chair of the department. Her skills as an
administrator further defined her involvement with AU, as chair of the University
Senate, its finance and research committees, as a member of the Middle States
Accreditation Study, and as the university’s faculty representative to the NCAA.
The Roschers shared a passion for science education. They met when both were
pursuing doctorates at Purdue University. Together, they moved from Texas to New
Jersey, and then to D.C. as they pursued and supported each other’s careers. An
accomplished secondary-school chemistry teacher, David has been instrumental in
advancing the science curriculum of the Alexandria Public School System, and is
quick to point out that his late wife made great strides at AU in an era of significant
challenge for female scientists.
“There are many institutions that shaped Nina’s and my education and careers,”
he says. “It was our mutual choice to provide ongoing annual and long-term support
to American University in recognition of the role AU played in our lives. We are
honored to support AU’s unique balance of academic excellence, community service,
and cultural diversity.”
AU is deeply grateful to benefit from Nina and David Roscher’s benevolence,
and we salute the philanthropic example they set for the greater community of AU
alumni, parents, and friends.
For information on the benefits you, loved ones, and American University can receive
through charitable estate planning, contact Seth Speyer, director of Planned Giving, at
202-885-5914, speyer@american.edu, or visit www.american.edu/planned giving.
Donning their crisp ceremonial uniforms, the United
States Marine Drum and Bugle Corps prepares to play
a patriotic tune, June 23, in front of their panoramic
backdrop at the Iwo Jima Memorial. The unit, which
celebrates its 75th anniversary this year, performs at the
memorial every Tuesday throughout the summer.
Photo by Jeff Watts
American
Magazine of American University
Volume 60 No. 2
15
music man with a new york vibe
18
back on their feet in philly
22
John Wineglass, BA ’94, is up for another Emmy.
His music sets the mood for All My Children and
more. The composer and performer is glad he
followed his dreams to the Big Apple.
A running club founded in the City of Brotherly
Love by Ann Mahlum, MA ’03, helps addicts lift
their bodies, minds, and spirits. It’s spread south to
Charm City and is on its way to the nation’s capital.
homicide: 33 years on
baltimore's streets
Terry McLarney, BA ’75, commander of the
Baltimore PD’s homicide squad, was on the streets
for it all—the crime, the closed cases, the book and
TV shows. This is his story.
28
d.c. avenues of opportunity
Along Washington’s avenues—from Oregon to
Georgia, Michigan to Florida—stand institutions
big and small that offer opportunities to learn and
serve. Faculty and students are all over them.
•••
departments
3
On the Quad
9
Athletics
33 Alumni News
34 Class Notables
48 On Our Web
www.american.edu/magazine
American, the official magazine of American
University, is written and designed by the University Publications office within University
Communications and Marketing. Personal
views on subjects of public interest expressed
in the magazine do not necessarily reflect official policies of the university.
Executive Director, Communications
and Marketing
Teresa Flannery
Director, University Publications
Kevin Grasty
Executive Editor
Linda McHugh
Managing Editor
Catherine Bahl
On the Quad Editor
Adrienne Frank
Staff Writers
Sally Acharya, Adrienne Frank, Mike Unger
Art Director/Designer
Wendy Beckerman
Contributing Designers
Maria Jackson, Juana Merlo, Evangeline
Montoya-A. Reed, Natalie Taylor
Photographer
Jeff Watts
Class Notes
Melissa Reichley and Josephine Williams,
editors; Ken O’Regan and Kristen Powell,
editorial assistants
UP10-001
American is published three times a year by American
University. With a circulation of about 100,000,
American is sent to alumni and other constituents of
the university community. Copyright © 2009.
American University is an equal opportunity and affirmative action university and employer. American University
does not discriminate on the basis of race, color, religion,
national origin, sex, age, marital status, personal appearance,
sexual orientation, gender identity and expression, family
responsibilities, political affiliation, disability, source of
income, place of residence or business, or certain veteran status in its programs and activities. For information, contact
the Dean of Students (DOS@american.edu), Director of
Policy & Regulatory Affairs (employeerelations@american.
edu) or Dean of Academic Affairs, (academicaffairs@american.
edu), or at American University, 4400 Massachusetts Ave.,
N.W., Washington, D.C. 20016, 202-885-1000.
From the
editor
On the Quad
hometown heroes
The Kismet of “Hitting the Streets”
I
n May, writer Adrienne Frank was on fire with a story she wanted to
tell: Terry McLarney, SPA ’75, recently took the helm of the Baltimore
PD’s homicide unit. McLarney was also among the detectives chronicled
in David Simon’s Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets, the book that
sparked the 1993–99 TV show of the same name and, a decade later, HBO’s
The Wire. For AU, this is a double-hitter story: Homicide producer Barry
Levinson is also an alum.
When Adrienne approached me on the story, I had been enjoying
Homicide on DVD. I was into Baltimore and remembering earlier cop shows
like Hill Street Blues and Dragnet. It seemed to me that these were the first
“reality TV shows,” and here, with the chance to interview
McLarney, we could explore AU’s connections to
this gritty genre. What fun.
Next Kismet
Here I was immersed in the aura of Baltimore, when
another story from another neighboring city—
Philadelphia—came on our radar. Marathoner Anne
Mahlum, SOC ’03, started a running club for recovering
addicts in Philly and has exported the program to Baltimore; it’s now headed
to Washington.
A theme was born. I love to take us on road trips with our summer issue,
and this issue has an eclectic, urban flavor. Hop on I-95 with me, as we travel
south from New York City, where composer John Wineglass, CAS ’94, just
picked up his seventh Emmy nomination (he and the music team from All
My Children already have three statuettes), to Philly and Baltimore. Our
road trip wraps up in Washington, D.C., where AU’s active citizenship is on
display throughout the city, from Massachusetts to Michigan Avenues.
This is an issue about AU’s reach—from the Big Apple, to the City of
Brotherly Love, to Charm City, and back to Washington. It’s both a long
stretch, and a close embrace.
photo illustration by jel montoya-reed
American
Yellow Ribbon
www.american.edu/magazine
Sgt. Jordan Jackson, 27, is a student in AU’s
post-baccalaureate premedical program. A medic
in the Virginia Army National Guard, Jackson is
currently stationed in Iraq and hopes to return to
AU in spring 2010.
P.S. If you have your own AU-inspired I-95 road trip story or photo, please
send it along to lmchugh@american.edu. I’ll share as many as possible online.
Cover: photo illustration by Maria Jackson
 american
Linda McHugh
Executive Editor
photos courtesy of jordan jackson
Send address changes to:
Alumni Programs
American University
4400 Massachusetts Ave NW
Washington, D.C.
20016-8002
or
e-mail: alumupdate@american.edu
They served our country, and now it’s our turn to help them.
This fall, AU will help 18 post-9/11 veterans fund their
education as part of the Department of Veterans Affairs’ new
Yellow Ribbon Program. Benefits for the 4 undergrads, 10 grad
students, and 4 law students range from $8,900 to $13,750 for
three to four years.
The VA will match the funds, enabling the vets to attend
AU at virtually no cost.
“Dating back to World War I, AU has a long-standing
tradition of supporting America’s military efforts,” said Provost
Scott Bass. “The Yellow Ribbon Program is a wonderful
testament of AU’s support for veterans and is a natural
partnership for an institution with a deep commitment to
serving the public interest.”
Created in 2008, the program enables U.S. colleges and
universities and the VA to share tuition expenses that exceed
the highest public in-state tuition rate.
summer 2009 
On the Quad
partings
On the Quad
welcome
Snip, Snip
It was a feeling unlike any they’ve
experienced on the lacrosse field.
In May, three AU lacrosse players and
two of their coaches parted with their
hair for Locks of Love, an organization
that provides hairpieces to children
suffering from medical hair loss.
Juniors Amanda Makoid and Lisa
Schaaf, sophomore Erin McDevitt, head
coach Katie Woods, and assistant coach
Courtney Farrell each cut off at least 10
inches of hair for the organization, which
has helped more than 2,000 financially
disadvantaged youngsters since 1997.
Makoid said lending a helping hair
was simply “the right thing to do.”
“This is my fourth time donating to
Locks of Love; it has become something
that’s very important to me.”
Curtain’s Up
Reality Hits
Throughout its illustrious history,
Hoop Dreams Scholarship Fund,
a nonprofit organization started
in 1996 by Susie Kay, SPA/BA
’86, helped send more than 1,000
underprivileged Washington high
school students to college.
But in June, the organization
became a victim of the faltering
economy when Kay announced
that due to declining fund raising,
it would close.
Thankfully, Hoop Dreams has
enough money to honor all its current
commitments, good news for a group
of high school seniors in the program
who visited the Kogod School of
Business’s new Financial Services and
Information Technology Lab this
spring to learn about financial literacy.
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Vivian Williams was one of
them. This fall, she’ll be attending
Florida A&M University, and
she appreciated taking the EverFi
Financial Literacy Program.
“It’s an easy way to learn the
different aspects of finances,”
Williams said. “I need to think about
the differences between what I want
and what I need. It will be hard
[managing my money] in college, but
I’ll have a much better handle on it.”
For Kay, the end of Hoop Dreams
closes a wonderful chapter in her life.
“There are no words to express
the depth of gratitude and love I
feel for so many that have believed
and supported this journey
through the years,” she said.
AU’s Admissions
Green Room
Nestled in the Katzen Arts Center, AU’s Admissions Green
Room will set the stage for the undergraduate experience.
The new welcome center, an airy space overlooking
Massachusetts Avenue, will draw about 20,000 visitors
each year. Like a green room in a theater, the center will
allow the AU community to mingle with prospective
undergrads and their families, treating them like VIPs.
Visitors can flip through a course catalog, study a Metro
map, or tour the campus. Over the next few months, the visitor
experience will be enhanced with new technology and brochures.
summer 2009 
eco-living
PHOTOs of tomatoes and farmer’s market BY KATIE NEFF
On the Quad
807,423,570
steps taken by the 630 faculty and staff
who participated in the summer
Pedometer Challenge — the
equivalent of 152,000 miles or
six revolutions around the globe
Farm Fresh
A variety of pesticide-free produce, from
asparagus to zucchini, is ripe for the picking
at AU’s new community market.
Featuring rhubarb, potatoes, herbs,
squash, tomatoes, and more from D.C.’s
Agora Farms, the market runs biweekly
through November. It’s sponsored by A
Healthy U, AU’s new faculty and staff
wellness program.
Green IT
Eat Local
“Nothing beats a homegrown tomato,”
mused senior Kate Pinkerton, one of
the green thumbs behind AU’s first
community garden, a 100-square-foot
swath of soil behind Nebraska Hall.
Tended by members of EcoSense,
a student environmental club, the plot
features a cornucopia of fruits and veggies:
peppers, peas, carrots, watermelon,
eggplant, and more. The perimeter is
lined with marigolds to fend off bugs.
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“It’s important to eat locally as
much as possible,” said Pinkerton, an
environmental studies major. “Knowing
that you produced your own food
and that you reduced your carbon
footprint in the process is even better.”
Though plans for distributing
the produce are still in the works,
EcoSense hopes to host a community
picnic with food from the garden.
When Mark Shirman, MBA ’82,
wanted to quantify his company’s ecoefforts, he turned to his alma mater, the
Kogod School of Business, for help.
Last semester, four master’s students—
CaroLyn Jimenez, Shiraz Mahyera, Samar
Majzoub, and Tom Sampson—teamed
up with Shirman, president and CEO
of GlassHouse Technologies, a Bostonbased firm that helps clients reduce
their carbon footprint through data
center consolidation and migration.
The group worked on a case study of
a pharmaceutical company and crafted
a marketing and communications plan
to promote GlassHouse’s environmental
efforts. Among the team’s findings:
• In one year, the test firm’s carbon
footprint was reduced by the
equivalent of 4,092 car emissions
or 246 house emissions.
• To offset that level of emissions, 2.1
million trees would need to be planted.
summer 2009 
On the Quad
now showing
On the Quad
athletics
photos courtesy of lauren deangelis
photo courtesy of Matt Petit / ©A.M.P.A.S.
Lauren DeAngelis, SOC/MFA ’08, who won a Student Academy
Award for her documentary, A Place to Land, is the second AU
filmmaker in two years to take home a student Oscar.
DeAngelis, left and above, an online writer and editor at U.S.
News & World Report, won a bronze medal and $2,000 at the June
13 ceremony in Los Angeles. Her 30-minute thesis film chronicles
the complications and challenges of caring for parrots in captivity.
DeAngelis’s own parrot was the inspiration for the film. “I
got her as a baby when I was only 10. I obviously didn’t know
anything about parrots at that time, and I think a lot of people are
the same way—they buy a parrot without knowing the lifelong
commitment they are taking on,” she said. A parrot can live to be
70–80 years old.
Last year, Laura Waters Hinson, MFA ’07, also a graduate of
the School of Communication, won a student Oscar for As We
Forgive, a documentary about reconciliation efforts in Rwanda. A
Student Academy Award is the highest honor a student filmmaker
can receive.
MFA candidate Joe Bohannon served as director of
cinematography and sound technician on the awardwinning film.
 american
photo courtesy of athletics communications
The Oscar Goes To . . .
Soccer Moves
Zack Solomon’s soccer-playing days are
over—but his career in athletics is in its
infancy.
A goalkeeper on the AU soccer team,
Solomon ’10 suffered a sixth concussion
last season, leading his parents, coaches,
and trainers to impose an early “retirement”
on the broadcast journalism major.
But Solomon, who turns 21 on August
31, isn’t exactly kicking back in a rocking
chair watching the sun set. He remains
on the active roster as a sort of playercoach, and will serve as president of AU’s
Student-Athlete Advisory Committee
this year. When the NCAA’s version of
the committee met in Denver in July,
Solomon was there as the Patriot League’s
representative.
“He is approachable, always positive
and full of energy—the kind of studentathlete that will represent both our
department and the university very well
on a national level,” says associate athletic
director Athena Argyropoulos, who
encouraged Solomon to apply for the
Patriot League rep position. “I felt that he
would be an effective communicator and
take on such a responsibility with vigor.’
Solomon’s involvement in the administrative side of collegiate athletics stems from
his desire to become an athletic director, a
position for which his soccer coach, Todd
West, thinks he’s well suited.
“It’s a people business, and he’s a great
people person,” West says. “We call him
the mayor. He loves to shake hands and kiss
babies and hang out with people.”
Solomon’s soccer career began at age
four in his native Long Island. Following in
the footsteps of his older brother, Alex, he
positioned himself in front of the goal and
vowed that nothing—nothing!—would get
past him.
“I loved it from the beginning,” he says.
“You can’t be afraid; you can’t shy away
from contact. You’ve got to be fearless.
You’re throwing your body around, and
your total focus is on the ball. It doesn’t
matter who’s in front of you, even if it’s your
teammate you’ve got to take them out.”
That take-no-prisoners style of play
eventually caught up to Solomon, a backup
his first three years at AU. He suffered
concussions when errant kicks connected
with his head, and when his head smashed
hard against the ground. After his junior
year, it was clear: his career was over.
“I wish I could have played a little more,
but it is what it is,” he says. “I’ve come to
terms with it. My main goal this year is to
help my teammates win the Patriot League
Tournament. We have the team to do it.”
It’s become apparent that Solomon’s
talent extends far past the playing field. He
interned in the athletic communications
office this summer, and will serve as the
Student Government’s director of athletics
and recreation, advocating for the club
sports.
“I love college athletics, I love being
around kids,” he says. “You meet so many
different people, build relationships. Your
voice can be heard. Being a Division I
athletic director would be awesome.”
— MIKE UNGER
summer 2009 
b
On the Quad
constitution
On the Quad
Orientation
curve ball
Spatial Frequency
0
Speed
50
b
a
Look directly at the spinning disk. It will
appear to fall vertically.
b
Look at the blue fixation point. The disk
will appear to fall at about a 20-degree
angle.
c
Shift your gaze during the disk’s descent.
The flight of the oval will abruptly shift
direction. The abrupt shift is analogous to
the “break” of the curveball.
[The controls allow you to adjust the
parameters of the effect.]
-12
b
a
�
Orientation
0
Spatial Frequency
50
Speed
-12
a
Look directly at the spinning disk. It will
appear to fall vertically.
b
Look at the blue fixation point. The disk
will appear to fall at about a 20-degree
angle.
c
Shift your gaze during the disk’s descent.
The flight of the oval will abruptly shift
direction. The abrupt shift is analogous to
the “break” of the curveball.
[The controls allow you to adjust the
parameters of the effect.]
Use Your Illusion
Creating Knowledge
Amanda Fulton and Molly Kenney’s senior capstone project
turned into so much more.
The pair, both 2009 graduates of the School of Public Affairs,
crafted a high school curriculum on the death penalty that
explores the history of capital punishment, methods of execution,
and issues surrounding race, gender, and socioeconomic status.
In addition to snagging an honorable mention at the annual
Honors Capstone Research Conference in April, their curriculum
was adopted by the Washington College of Law’s MarshallBrennan Constitutional Literacy Project. The Marshall-Brennan
fellows, 45 second- and third-year law students who teach courses
on constitutional law and juvenile justice in a dozen high schools
across the District and Maryland, will incorporate the death
penalty curriculum into classes this fall.
“Our goal in doing this is not to push our own opinion but to
help others articulate an educated view of the issue,” said Fulton.
Founded in 1999 by WCL professor Jamin Raskin, the
Marshall-Brennan Project recently expanded to 10 law schools
across the country.
ist
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oc
kp
ho
istockphoto
b
1. Look directly at the spinning disk. It
will appear to fall vertically.
2. Look at the blue fixation point. The
disk will appear to fall at about a
20-degree angle.
3. Shift your gaze during the disk’s
descent. The flight of the oval will
abruptly shift direction. The abrupt shift is
analogous to the “break” of the curveball.
Orientation
0
Spatial Frequency
50
Speed
-12
[The controls allow you to adjust the
parameters of the effect.]
See how curveballs curve at www.illusionsciences.com
Curveballs curve. Arthur Shapiro wants to be absolutely clear
about that. They just don’t curve as much as we think they do,
and he created a computer illustration to prove it.
Shapiro, a vision science expert who will begin his first term as
a professor in the psychology department this fall, won the Neural
Correlate Society’s Best Visual Illusion of the Year in May.
The winning entry, which Shapiro created with Zhong-Lin
Lu of the University of Southern California, Dartmouth’s Emily
Knight, and Rob Ennis of SUNY Optometry, is a computergenerated graphic that shows how the eye tricks the brain.
“There’s good physics to show why curveballs break,” said
Shapiro, whose 10-year-old twins are bigger baseball fans than he
is. “The problem is there’s nothing about the curveball that says it
should break so dramatically. For someone standing at the plate,
it has to do with the transition between looking at it directly and
looking at it in the periphery.”
On several occasions, Shapiro has dug into an actual batter’s
box and tried to hit an actual curveball. What happens?
“Usually I fall down on the ground and the pitch is a strike.”
to
summer 2009 
On the Quad
remembrance
Harold and Sylvia Greenberg, left, and Myrtle and Cyrus Katzen, right, at the openings of the landmark facilities bearing their names
Space to Dream
At AU, the arts matter. That’s what Harold Greenberg and
Cyrus Katzen always knew, even in the days, not long ago,
when theatre students performed in a cramped experimental
theatre and artists exhibited their work in the out-of-the-way
room called the Watkins Gallery.
Students always dream large. Katzen and Greenberg helped
to give them space for their dreams.
Greenberg passed away in April at the age of 92; Katzen in
July, at 91. They each leave behind a lasting legacy: the Harold
and Sylvia Greenberg Theatre, which opened in 2003, and the
Cyrus and Myrtle Katzen Arts Center, which opened in 2005.
The state-of-the-art spaces have, as AU Museum director
Jack Rasmussen puts it, “changed AU, its face and its
substance.”
Statistics alone are impressive: thousands of square feet of
space for classrooms, studios, and performance and exhibition
space. Harder to quantify is the impact the Greenberg Theatre
and Katzen Arts Center have had on AU and its students.
Bethany Corey, CAS/BA ’07, was a student during the years
of change and experienced both settings. “The facilities were
so much more conducive to what we needed,” she recalls. “To
move into a facility that’s nice and clean and has good acoustics
and is built for what we’re doing made it so much easier to take
that next step and be that much better.”
Faculty felt the magic, too. “I’d get off the elevator and walk
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into that building and feel I was Alice in Wonderland,” recalls
performing arts professor Gail Humphries Mardirosian of the
opening days of the Katzen, which followed so closely on the
opening of the Greenberg. “To see that the arts had come to
that level of importance at AU was just incredible.”
The excitement goes far beyond campus. The Greenberg
enabled AU to forge a connection with Russia’s legendary
Volkov Theatre, the oldest professional theatre in the country. A
performance by the acting troupe at the newly opened Greenberg
Theatre led to a memorable trip to Russia by AU students to
perform at the International Theatre Festival and learn with
Russian actors at the theatre’s prestigious drama academy.
The Katzen’s AU Museum is the largest university art
exhibition space in Washington, D.C., and one of the largest in
the nation. “The museum has become an important center for
contemporary art of the United States as well as international
art shown in Washington,” notes art department chair Helen
Langa. Critics make a point of reviewing the shows; worldrenowned artists come to speak.
That in itself is inspiring to students. But for the students
of the past few years, there’s also a personal side to what are
known casually as “the Greenberg” and “the Katzen.”
They’ve had the privilege to know more about the Katzen
than its three stories of galleries, its ample studio and classroom space, and its halls echoing with music and vitality. Their
memories of the Greenberg go beyond performing in a professional theatre where music soars from the orchestra pit and the
ample backstage enables them to mount top-quality shows.
They also have memories of Harold Greenberg enjoying the
plays his gift helped make possible and Cy Katzen strolling the
halls and asking students about their plans for the future.
“These were more than men who gave money. Our students
know these men,” says performing arts professor Caleen Sinnette
Jennings. “They enjoyed the buildings and the people in them.
They were so accessible and radiated how much they cared
to the students. They wanted to see students living out their
dreams. That made it extra special.”
Katzen became involved with AU
through his wife, Myrtle, a painter,
whose experience with art classes on
campus was so positive that she formed
a lifelong bond with the school, which was a short drive from
their art-filled home. Sylvia Greenberg’s family has a long
tradition of supporting AU, and the Kay Spiritual Life Center
bears the name of her father, Abraham Kay.
Cy Katzen and Harold Greenberg will be missed as members
of the community, but their affection for AU will be felt for
years to come. “If there is a legacy we hope to live up to,” says
Jennings, “we want to keep that sense that these are places for
human beings to come and celebrate what it means to be a
human being—what it means to create and dream.”
— SALLY ACHARYA
A student dance concert and a student performance of Moliere's Tartuffe showcase the new facilities at the Greenberg Theatre and the Katzen Center.
summer 2009 
on exhibit
by Sally Acharya
On the Quad
Summer Potpourri
What is summer without boats, breezes, and humorous reading? They’re all found
at the AU Museum’s summer exhibition, although in the museum’s usual quirky
style, the boat is beached on the grass outside the Katzen Arts Center and carries
a message rather than vacationers. The boat, which tells the story of Haitian
refugees, is part of a summer potpourri of exhibits that includes artists both inside
and outside Washington—including two cities featured in this issue, New York
and Baltimore.
Jules Feiffer
New York City and Jules Feiffer always went hand in hand—or rather, pen in
hand. His cartoons ran in the Village Voice for more than 40 years. He was the
first cartoonist commissioned by the New York Times for its editorial page.
A collection of Feiffer’s editorial cartoons are on display this summer at the
AU Museum, bringing back memories of Nixon, war protestors, 1970s inflation,
1980s recession, Reaganomics, and the first day of once-new trends like jogging.
Feiffer’s deceptively simple line drawings are imbued with a critique of
politicians and, just as pointedly, complacent citizens. His viewpoint is decidedly
liberal, but he makes some of his most pointed jabs at his white liberal neighbors.
Ultimately these are works about people: their foibles, their daily trials, and the
way they cope with the times in which they live.
Paul Davis
paul davis
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This is art that doesn’t just move the viewer. It actually moves.
Baltimore artist Paul Davis has created a collection of kinetic sculpture,
huge outdoor pieces that swing, sway, and tower above the pavement outside
the Katzen. As brightly colored as a Matisse, these intensely linear pieces seem
almost alive as they perch for the moment at Ward Circle, their whimsical shapes
enticing viewers to ramble in and enjoy the sight during the long summer days.
— SALLY ACHARYA
He’s glad he followed the advice of
his AU professor and pursued his music
to New York City.
A D.C. Kid
The Big Apple had always been part
of his plans, but at first, the goal was
Wall Street. Somehow, though, he
couldn’t escape the pull of music.
It had been pulling him since
he was a child. Wineglass
was seven when he sat
down at the piano in
his family’s northeast
Washington home and
plunked out Beethoven’s
Moonlight Sonata.
By ear.
Without piano lessons.
It’s the kind of thing a mother
notices. Soon she was on a quest
to find the right instrument for
the boy with perfect pitch so
he could join the D.C. Youth
Orchestra, which she realized,
with motherly savvy, was not
in need of another pianist
but had a lot of other
instruments in its ranks.
Could he play the
flute? No, his arms were
too short. A saxophone?
He didn’t have the air.
A clarinet?
Photos by Jacob Perl
Jules Feiffer
It’s hard for John Wineglass to beat
the night of his first Emmy.
He didn’t just go home with a
statuette. He went home with a daughter,
who was almost born right there on
Times Square at the elegant Broadway
venue filled with celebrities.
They weren’t too many blocks from
the television studios on West 66th Street
where the show for which he writes music
is filmed. It’s a television icon: the soap
opera All My Children, where he once
had an internship that turned into
something more. Now he was at the
Emmys, and his wife was so excited
when his name was called she didn’t
notice she’d gone into labor.
They went straight from the
ceremony to the hospital, though they
did not, as it happens, take the advice
of fellow Emmy-goer Martha Stewart
to give the baby the obvious name.
Still, Wineglass, CAS/BA ’94, now has
many Emmys in the house—three, in
fact, out of seven nominations in the
last nine years. He’ll be at the Emmys
again on August 29, hoping to take
another walk on the red carpet.
Careers in music are notoriously
hard to establish. But Wineglass writes
music for television serials, MSNBC,
independent films, and even the U.S.
Army. He’s played on Broadway and
before every U.S. president since
Ronald Reagan.
“There’s an energy in
New York City. You walk
around the city and
there’s a lot of adversity.
Life is not perfect ... But
New York has a vibe.”
The muscles in his seven-year-old
jaw weren’t strong enough.
After a year of trying out instruments,
he picked up the viola. “It really
resonated with me,” he recalls. Not
only did he love the sound, but it gave
him a chance to sit in the center of
the orchestra, surrounded by other
instruments. “The second oboes were
right behind me,” he says, “so I knew
what they were doing harmony wise.
The second violins were right across.”
In the long run, his experience in
the center of the orchestra would train
his ear and imagination and be crucial
to becoming a composer. For the time
being, though, something else was on his
mind: the D.C. Youth Orchestra gets to
go abroad.
“That was my reason for practicing,
’cause I wanted to tour,” he laughs. “I saw
 american
the orchestra and my older counterparts,
and they’d go away for a month or so over
the summer. I thought, ‘This’ll be great.’
So I practiced hard from the time I was
eight years old. I really took it seriously.”
Which is how the boy from D.C.
had already been to South Korea, Spain,
Yugoslavia, China, and the Soviet Union
before he ever applied to AU.
Business Plan
But even though the draw of music
was so strong that his idea of a fun
game was to turn his cousins into his
“orchestra” and compose pieces for them
to play, he still didn’t see that music
would be his life. Wineglass came to
AU on a scholarship to Kogod School
of Business, double majoring in music
composition just for the fun of it.
Fortunately for music, “I was a
B minus, C plus student when it
came to business courses. I loved
it—macroeconomics, microeconomics,
statistics—and it was cool, but I always
felt the tug of music. When I left Kogod,
it meant I lost the scholarship money.
That was huge. But my parents knew
I had to follow my heart.
“Somehow my mom looked on the
board of the D.C. Youth Orchestra, and
there was a scholarship to AU for music.
I remember her looking at the posting
and saying, ‘Hey John, there are some
scholarships available at AU if you want
to switch your major.’
“It was a defining moment for me.”
But Wall Street was still calling. The
1994 music graduate applied to graduate
school at John Hopkins University, still
meaning to go into business. “I was set to
go that whole track, go to Wall Street and
make money, but at the last minute
I thought, ‘I can’t do this.’”
So he went to his mentor on the AU
faculty, composer and music professor
Haig Mardirosian, and asked what fields
would be good for a musician to study if
he also wanted a shot at paying the rent.
It was Mardirosian who let him know
that degrees exist in scoring for music and
television. There aren’t many, and most
are just certificate programs. But New
York University had a master’s degree.
That’s how the D.C. native finally
left for the Big Apple, where an
internship led to All My Children
and, in time, to independent films,
documentaries, and the Emmy Awards.
A Composer’s Life
The way a composer works differs
from project to project. For soap
operas, “sometimes it’s a particular
scene they want, and they’ll send me
footage. But most often, I’m supplying
music as the composer to the show,
and they take it and edit is as they
want. They say, ‘Just write a bunch
of moods.’ Pondering. Danger.” It’s
then edited into the right scenes.
Wineglass also composes periodically
for independent filmmakers, working on
short films and other projects, and has
scored a number of commercial films for
clients that include the U.S. Army and
American Red Cross.
The need to be closer to Hollywood
studio work prompted him to move
out West with his family four years
ago—not to Los Angeles, but to scenic
beachfront Monterey, four hours up the
coast from Hollywood. Much of his
work is still New York-based, though,
and he sends his music electronically
to his New York City colleagues and
flies there often for meetings and to
pick up the energy of the streets.
“I’m a New York purist,” he says.
It’s a different scene: “more creative
films, more of an independent scene,
more substance. L.A. has the big films
with the gynormous budgets. New
York is really that gutsy, artistic, very
learned vibe for the film industry.
Usually when you see a film that has
that dynamic substance and it’s an indie,
it’s something shot or produced in New
York. The L.A. folks, they recognize that
pedigree as well.
“There’s an energy in New York City.
You walk around the city and there’s a lot
of adversity. Life is not perfect. In L.A.,
you hang out in Hollywood and everyone
is glammed out, and everyone is pretty.
Hollywood is what it is. But New York
has a vibe.”
summer 2009 
Back
on Their Feet
in Philly
By Mike Unger
Before sunrise they gather in a
circle—each with an arm draped
around their neighbor’s shoulders—
and ask God for the serenity to face
another day. The choices they’ve
made have led them down divergent
paths—success or failure, happiness
or despair, sobriety or addiction.
Yet they’ve all wound up here,
preparing to embrace the day with
a two-mile run through the barren
streets of South Baltimore, thanks
to a 28-year-old woman from North
Dakota whom almost none of them
have met.
Theirs is not the only predawn
circle. Seven more are forming in
Philadelphia, where the idea of a running club for homeless addicts first
came to Anne Mahlum. Many would
have let the thought harmlessly pass
through their mind; Mahlum chased
it down.
“Running’s so primitive,” says
Mahlum, SOC/MA ’03, founder of
Back on My Feet, the nonprofit she
started in her adopted hometown of
Philly to help recovering addicts lift
their bodies, minds, and spirits. The
club has flourished in the City of
Brotherly Love, the place the majority of its volunteers and the people
they work with—and work out
with—call home.
“It’s such a natural thing for us to
do,” she says. “Running doesn’t discriminate, it doesn’t matter if you’re a
past addict or black or white. The natural high you get from it is appropriate.
Anyone can get this feeling.”
In the darkness of this almost cool
July morning, five residents of the
Baltimore Station shelter, home to
men “transitioning from the cycle
of poverty, substance abuse, and
 american
. . . Baltimore and Beyond
homelessness to self-sufficiency,”
and 10 Back on My Feet volunteers
set out toward Federal Hill, pursuing the runner’s high that awaits
somewhere along the way. Since
Mahlum started the club two years
ago, the organization has expanded
to a total of 10 shelters, including
this one in Charm City.
“You feel as though you’re doing
something positive for yourself, and
nobody can take that from you,” says
Earl Washington, an addict who’s
fought cocaine and alcohol demons
for almost half his 48 years. “Stop
using, that’s the easy part,” he says.
“It’s learning how to deal with life.
This helps me fill that void.”
The concept of running as a
catalyst for substantive social change
strikes some—particularly nonrunners—as odd. But Mahlum learned
the sport’s therapeutic power as a
teenager dealing with her own
problems, and it’s a lesson she
never forgot.
“There are so many metaphors
that surround it,” she says. “The
discipline it takes to be a runner is
extraordinary. If you’re going to go
out and run 10 miles and you haven’t
trained, you’re not going to make it. If
you’re going to try and take shortcuts,
it never works. The same thing holds
true in life. You just have to keep
moving forward.”
summer 2009 
Shattered Reality
Washington. She’s gone on to log seven
more on five continents, and will add
to her total in September when she
runs one in Australia. After that only
one continental hurdle will remain—
for now. She’s on the waiting list for
an Antarctica marathon and hopes to
conquer it by 2011.
“Am I addicted to running?” she
says. “Sure. Anything I do, I’m going
to do 120 percent.”
Mahlum’s childhood in Bismarck,
North Dakota, was as idyllic as the
Cleavers, or so it seemed.
“I grew up thinking everybody in
the whole wide world had a yard and
a bike and did the fun things I did on
weekends,” she says. “That was my
world. It was the greatest childhood.”
But simmering under the surface
were problems that at age 16 would
shatter her rosy vision of reality.
“My dad went through drug and
alcohol recovery before I was five,” she
says. “I never saw him do any of those
things, so it was kind of irrelevant in
my life. All I saw was my dad drive four
hours to watch my basketball game, or
Mahlum first came to Washington
him spending time helping me with
in 2001 as an intern for Senator Kent
my jump shot. He was the dad that
Conrad (D-N. Dak.). Immediately,
everybody wanted.
she was smitten with the town.
“One day he came home and asked
“It’s a really smart, vibrant city that
me if I could leave so he could talk to
has great energy to it,” she says. “People
my mom,” she recalls with clarity. “I
go there to change the world. I knew it
knew something was wrong. When
was the place I wanted to be.”
I came back I saw him on the couch
She enrolled in AU’s School of looking embarrassed and sad. I went
Communication sight unseen, and says
and sat by him, and he told me he had
it was one of the best decisions she’s
gambled away thousands
ever made.
and thousands of dollars,
“I think communiand finally gotten to the
cation is everything,
point where he couldn’t
and I learned a lot at
pay it back.”
I’m running by these
AU,” she says. “You
Mahlum’s mom
have to know who’s
guys every morning,
kicked him out of the
your audience, what
house later that night.
moving my life
is your message, how
The family was fractured
do you establish a
forward physically,
forever.
brand.”
“I felt all this emospiritually, mentally, All lessons that
tion I didn’t know what
would serve Mahlum
and emotionally.”
to do with, so I went for
well in the future.
a run that day,” she says.
Work led her to
“I knew I couldn’t just sit and
Philadelphia, where her morning rundo nothing, I had to move forward
ning route passed a homeless shelter
to get through it. It was that rhythm
on the corner of 13th and Vine, the
that made me feel okay about being
Sunday Breakfast Mission.
vulnerable.”
“I’m seeing these guys congregate
That original five-mile path along
outside the mission around 5 a.m.,” she
her neighborhood golf course became
says. “Because I’m from North Dakota,
her sanctuary, and running has been a
I’m waving at everyone. They looked at
part of her ever since. Throughout
me a little bit strange to begin with, but
college in Minnesota and graduate
they got comfortable enough with my
school at AU, Mahlum has run virtually presence after a while that a more intievery day since that fateful one a dozen
mate rapport started to develop. I would
years ago.
say, ‘Good morning guys, how are you
In 2004 she completed her first
doing?’ and they would fake run with me
marathon, the U.S. Marine Corps in
for a few steps.”
 american
Photo courtesy of Anne Mahlum Photo illustration by Maria Jackson
‘We said that first
prayer, and then
we ran’
While running one morning in May
2007, Mahlum had an epiphany,
“I remember looking back at them
and thinking, ‘I’m cheating them,’”
she says. “I’m running by these guys
every morning, moving my life forward
physically, spiritually, mentally, and
emotionally. This is the best part of my
day, and I’m leaving these guys in the
exact same spot.”
Mahlum sprinted into action. She
Googled the shelter then sent an e-mail
proposing a running club. Eventually,
she convinced the skeptical director to
ask if anyone was interested.
Nine men were. So Mahlum walked
into the mission and told her story,
testifying to the powerful force running
had been in her life. Stereotypes, the
young blonde swore to the mostly
African American men, would evaporate with sweat.
There was only one problem: at this
exact same time, Comcast called to offer
her a job. She took it, but asked for five
weeks to stabilize the running club.
“I thought this could really be an
opportunity for them to move their
life forward,” she says. “Even though
I didn’t know them that well, I had a
very emotional connection to them,
because they reminded me a lot of my
dad. My dad struggled with his life, and
I know he still struggles. For me to get
through my dad’s issues I used running,
and I thought, ‘Why can’t that be their
healing force too?’”
Mahlum sent out e-mails to
everyone she’d ever known asking for
donations of shoes, shirts, or money.
In the early morning hours of July 3,
2007, Back on My Feet was born.
“That first morning we all got in a
circle, and I saw how everybody around
us, they didn’t know what we went
through, but they didn’t care,” says
Mike Solomon, 43, an original member
who now works for the organization
part time. “We said that first prayer,
and then we ran.”
Solomon, and Back on My Feet,
haven’t looked back since. Since
that inaugural mile, Solomon has racked
up hundreds more, becoming the first
residential member to complete a marathon. He also was the first member to
graduate from Next Steps, the organiza-
Feet has exploded, moving from one
tion’s structured program designed to get
team in one city to 10 teams in two citmembers working and living on their
ies, with more growth on the horizon.
own in six to nine months.
The organization will expand to Wash As long as each member keeps up a
ington, D.C., in March 2010.
90 percent attendance rate during the
Its results have been tangible.
thrice-weekly morning runs, they are
Boosted by an abundance of positive
eligible for small grants to be used for
media coverage (CNN, ABC, and
transportation, clothes for interviews,
NBC all have done stories), the
job training, and the like.
organization has been extraordinarily
“I didn’t graduate anything
successful in fund raising, and now has
before this,” says Solomon, a higha budget of more than
school dropout
$1 million. Not yet three
who struggled
years old, its statistics
with crack
are staggering: 700
addiction. “To
I thought this
volunteers, 7 full-time
finish a full maraemployees, 40-plus
thon, I thought
could really be an
members with new jobs,
I was Superman
opportunity for them
30-plus with their own
there for a minute.
roofs over their heads.
The sense of
to move their life
If those numbers are
community is
forward . . . Even
surprising to most, well,
what it’s all about.
they’re not to Mahlum.
I’m not saying
though I didn’t know
“When you provide
this is the cure-all,
them that well, I had
an environment for
but to actually
people where they feel rehave someone that a very emotional
spected and valued, cared
you can put your
connection to them . . .”
for and loved, who’s not
hands on and say,
going to want to be a
‘This is my suppart of that?”
port,’ that’s important. Everyone needs
Back in Baltimore, Earl Washington
someone. The world would be
is cooling down while stretching his
a lot better if people had other people
burning leg muscles. After working so
in their lives, and some people just
don’t. Anne reached out to people to let hard to achieve and sustain sobriety,
he fell back into the abyss about six
them know they don’t have to do it on
months ago.
their own.”
But things are looking up these
days. He’s lived at Baltimore Station
for just shy of 90 days, been clean for
nearly double that, has a line on a new
job, and has dedicated himself to Back
During her five-week sabbatical prior
on My Feet. This morning he earned a
to joining Comcast, Mahlum ate,
blue bracelet for completing five miles
drank, slept, and dreamt Back on
with the club.
My Feet.
“It gets your blood flowing, your
“I started to see behavior changes in
body loose, and prepares you for the
the guys,” she says. “They were standing
day,” he says, sweat dripping down
up taller, smiling more, clapping for their
his brow.
teammates. There was something bigger
Just what the rest of his days holds,
going on that I just happened to be a part Washington doesn’t know. He’s up
of. I was infatuated with the idea. It was
now at a time he used to be coming
like being in love.”
down from an all-night high, or
Comcast turned out to be her jilted
leaving one bender looking to score
lover. The day before she was supposed
for another.
to start, she made the difficult decision to His goals are simpler these days: stay leave the company at the altar.
clean, and keep moving forward.
Since that moment, Back on My
Running Toward
Results
summer 2009 
Homicide:
33 Years on Baltimore’s Streets
I
“
When we know who’s
behind a murder,
we’ll move mountains to get
those cases down,
”
says Terry McLarney,
here at Baltimore’s Federal Hill.
n the world of homicide investigation, it’s not just the guts and
gore that take their toll. The hours are long; witnesses are uncooperative; and juries are unpredictable. It’s a stressful, often thankless, job that defies any notion of work-life balance. Your son’s got
a Little League game? If that squad room phone rings, you’re up.
Sorry, slugger.
After 33 years with the Baltimore Police Department, Major Terry
McLarney, commander of the city’s homicide unit and one of the detectives who inspired an entertainment franchise that includes Homicide and
The Wire, has, on occasion, debated the merits of a nine-to-five gig. No
Kevlar vest required.
McLarney, SPA/BA ’75, earned a law degree in 1981 while working
graveyards in Baltimore’s Central District, boning up on wills, trusts, and
estates between calls to the nearby housing projects. Even in Charm City,
he says, attorneys are less likely to get shot than cops.
But law never fascinated McLarney the way police work did. Ultimately,
he didn’t want to prosecute murders; he wanted to solve them.
For McLarney, a product of the D.C. suburbs, who came to the city on the
Patapsco in 1976 craving action and adventure, Baltimore homicide is home.
“People ask me why I’ve stayed so long,” says McLarney, 56. “But who
would leave? The Baltimore Police Department is the greatest show on earth.”
B Y AD R I E N N E F R A N K
 american
n
p h oto s by j e ff watts
Homicide: The Birth of an
Entertainment Franchise
In the late 1980s, a reporter for the Baltimore Sun did what all good reporters do: he
picked up the phone and asked a question.
David Simon’s proposal—shadowing
homicide detectives, including McLarney’s
squad of five men, for a year—was outrageous, laughable, even. But, somehow,
the brass agreed.
The result, Homicide: A Year on the
Killing Streets, is one of the most celebrated true crime books of the last two
decades. The 1991 book recounts some
of the year’s most difficult and notorious
cases and offers readers an intimate
look at the lives of Baltimore homicide
detectives, from crime scene to barstool.
Homicide also spawned the Emmy
award–winning television series of the
same name, produced by AU alumnus
Barry Levinson, SOC/BA ’67, himself a
Baltimore native.
Accolades aside, McLarney, as all
good investigators are, was skeptical in
the beginning.
“We were paranoid; we watched how
we did things in front of Simon,” says
McLarney, noting that police are “an
continued on page 25
summer 2009 
“On a hot summer
night, the old
Western District
was a very
strange place
to be.”
—Terry McLarney
 american
n c h is e
Ho m ic id e: Th e
m e nt F r a
in
a
rt
e
Birt h of
n Ent
an
Ent ert ain m ent
of a
Fr an ch is e
T h e B irt h
:
e
id
ic
m
Ho
Culture shock
A year after graduating with a justice administration degree from AU, McLarney
was behind the wheel of a radio car in
Baltimore, undertaking an education of a
different sort.
“I was stunned at the violence,” he says.
“There was definitely some culture shock.”
Chuckling, McLarney recalls a time
when, fresh out of the academy, he turned
to a more seasoned cop and informed him,
“There’s a gang out here, they call themselves
the ‘homeboys,’” a slang term for friend.
“God help us,” sarcastically replied the
exasperated elder.
But McLarney soon learned the rhythm
and lingo of the street. In policing, “experience is everything, and with the volume of
crime in Baltimore, it doesn’t take long to
get it.”
The young cop took his lumps—a
broken hand here, a few stitches there, and
the occasional tumble down the stairs. “You
have to be tough,” he says. “If you can’t
pull off anything else, you should at least
be tough.”
But McLarney was more than tough.
He was smart, a keen observer, a good
listener, an even better talker. He was, as
they say, natural police. In 1981, he was
assigned to homicide where, at 28, he was,
by far, the youngest detective on the floor.
Three years later, he was promoted to
sergeant and shipped off to the Western,
one of the city’s most violent and volatile
districts.
In 1985, McLarney took one bullet in
the stomach and another in the leg while
on patrol in the Western. The married
father of one son was on medical leave for
eight months, and used a colostomy bag
until his digestive system healed enough to
permit the reversal surgery.
Despite the colostomy bag, the crime,
and the corner boys—or perhaps because of
it—the swath of the city west of downtown
still holds a special place in McLarney’s
heart.
“I worked in the Western three different
times in my career, and to this day, when
I cross into the border, I get a warm, fuzzy
feeling,” he says with a grin. “On a hot
summer night, the old Western District was
a very strange place to be.
“The violence doesn’t look evident
until—poof!—it is.”
Finely-tuned skill set
A one-time offensive lineman on AU’s ’73
and ’74 football teams, McLarney is always
quick with a sports analogy.
A detective is like a decathlete, he
explains. It’s not enough to be good in the
interview room; if a cop wants to win a
conviction, he’s got to master every event.
“On any given day, you’re going to have
to deal with a doper on Pennsylvania Avenue, lawyers, forensic scientists, and doctors,” he says of homicide detectives, who
also handle kidnappings, officer-involved
shootings, threats against police, extortion
cases, and questionable deaths. At its core,
“this job is all about talking to people—and
we can’t teach that. We can teach crime
scene investigation and methodology, but
we can’t teach a guy to sit in a room for
four hours and elicit a confession from
someone.”
Writing and computer savvy are also
part of a detective’s skill set. Even the
“dunkers”—domestic homicides, for
example, in which a wife, without a hint
of remorse, cops to offing her good-fornothing-husband—boast case files a couple
inches thick.
Stamina and persistence are everything.
A good detective is a stubborn detective,
willing to sacrifice sleep and sanity for a
case, and absolutely, positively unwilling to
let the bad guys win.
But just like a decathlete with a nagging
ACL injury, the job can take its toll.
“At a minimum, you enter into a world
of diminished expectations,” explains
McLarney. “Human nature’s got some real
problems.”
Learning curve
“I’m not ready for this. I have no idea
what I’m doing,” was the chorus running
through McLarney’s head when he caught
continued from page 23
earthy bunch,” for whom four-letter words and locker room humor come
naturally. “But after a while, we just got too busy to notice. That’s when he did
his best reporting.”
Throughout the 600-page tome, Simon depicts McLarney as a “street-worn,
self-mocking, hard-drinking cop,” who was also “one of the most intelligent men
in homicide.” McLarney’s work ethic was the stuff of legends, as was his subtle,
self-effacing humor.
“Generations from now, homicide detectives in Baltimore will still be telling
T.P. McLarney stories,” mused Simon. Among them: the time McLarney used
his service weapon to kill a mouse rummaging around his wife’s closet, and
contemplated leaving the
carcass amidst the shoes
and slacks “as a warning to
others.”
That was just one of the
McLarney gems that found
its way into Simon’s later
project, The Wire, the HBO
series that chronicles the
triumphs and tragedies of
police, dopers, and dealers. In fact, the criticallyacclaimed drama opens
with the parable of an ill-fated thief named Snot Boogie, whose murder McLarney
investigated.
Snot Boogie was shot after swiping the pot from a crap game—something
he did regularly. When McLarney asked a witness why they continued to let Snot
Boogie play, knowing he would snatch the cash, he replied, quizzically: “You
gotta let him play . . . This is America.”
Although McLarney enjoyed Homicide, which made the detectives “look human and effective,” he’s more critical of The Wire.
In a city where about 75 percent of all homicides are drug related, McLarney
denounces entertainment that “normalizes” the drug trade. “In the real world,
drug dealers are thugs who terrorize people—there’s nothing normal about that,”
he says.
Despite their political and ideological difference, McLarney and Simon are
buddies, and still get together to swap stories over beer. McLarney also penned
the afterword for the latest edition of Homicide, which, to date, has sold millions
of copies.
his first body—an elderly woman, who it
turns out, died of natural causes.
But, in the world of homicide, the
next case isn’t a matter of if, but when.
McLarney quickly discovered the best way
to learn to swim was to do a cannonball
into the deep end.
“As a young detective, I’d look at a scene
and think, ‘this is just horrific,’ but doctors
and nurses see the same thing, it’s just not
as messy,” he says.
“You learn to accept that everywhere
you go, someone’s dead.”
And you focus on the task at hand:
combing the scene for shell casings,
scouring the streets for witnesses, piecing
together the whole, sordid puzzle.
Ultimately, detectives are simply too
busy, and too well trained, to see the victim
as more than a body—the biggest piece of
the puzzle. There is no time to wonder if the
deceased preferred her crab cakes broiled or
fried. And such curiosities don’t trump the
biggest question of all: whodunit?
“You can’t afford to be distraught for
days on end,” says Jack McGrath, one of 84
summer 2009 
detectives working under McLarney. “It’s
a casualty of this job.”
McLarney admits that one of his greatest satisfactions as major has been assigning
some of his old whodunits to cold case. “It’s
one of the benefits of rank,” he laughs.
“As a detective, the cases you don’t solve
nag at you.” It’s as much about personal
pride as it is about justice.
Keep talkin’
The first rule of homicide investigation:
everyone lies.
In Baltimore, the average homicide
victim has been arrested 10 times, and the
average perpetrator has been in cuffs 11
times. Among suspects, witnesses, and the
dearly departed himself, there are often
few innocents.
Physical evidence and reliable witnesses are key to cracking any case.
On the street, detectives sort through
mountains of old trash—or “artifacts”—
in search of casings and other clues. In
the office, investigators have an even more
daunting task: sorting through mountains
of untruths.
The graffiti that adorns the unit’s holding cells—“never tell” and “don’t snitch”—
says as much. And while such threats are
lobbed at would-be-witnesses in inner cities
across the country, the “Stop Snitchin’”
campaign has its roots in Baltimore.
“
The job hardens
you. That doesn’t mean
you don’t enjoy your kids,
it just means you look at
the world a little differently,” says McLarney, who’s
married with a 32-year-old
son, Brian. “The things
I’ve seen . . . when you
step back, it’s a real
horror story.
”
In 2004, a DVD featuring drug dealers threatening violence against anyone
who cooperates with the police began to
circulate. NBA star and one-time Baltimore
resident Carmelo Anthony appears in
the video.
 american
Moving mountains
found tortured and murdered in the trunk
of her car. A long wiretap investigation
not only led to the woman’s killers, it also
brought down a major heroin and cocaine
operation.
“When we know who’s behind a
murder, we’ll move mountains to get those
cases down,” he says.
Natural police
As someone who spends 70 hours a week with detectives and deviants, McLarney prefers the History and
Discovery channels, or a good novel, to police dramas. “I see enough of that on the job,” he says.
“In the city of Baltimore, the last thing
you want to be is a witness,” says Detective
McGrath.
Though the Baltimore Police Department launched “Keep Talkin’,” a campaign
to undermine “Stop Snitchin’,” most witnesses, whether fearful or indifferent, prefer
to keep quiet.
“In the old days, it was rare to come
back to the office without a witness waiting
for you,” recalls McLarney. “Today, there
are still people who want to talk to us, there
are just less of them.
“Some of the most brilliant interrogations I’ve seen were getting people to admit
they’re a witness.”
Numbers game
Witnesses lie, suspects lie. But the numbers
never do.
In homicide, the clearance rate—murders closed by arrest—is everything.
Each morning, McLarney receives an
updated tally of the month’s murders, along
with year-to-date figures and comparisons
to the previous year. He can rattle off a barrage of stats at any moment.
Baltimore, which has long held the dubious distinction of being one of the most
murderous cities in the country, sees 0.63
homicides a day, or about four per week. In
2008—McLarney’s first year at the helm of
homicide—there were 234 murders, down
from 282 the year before. It was the lowest
homicide rate the city’s seen in 20 years.
And while, as of June, Baltimore has
clocked more murders than at the same
point last year, McLarney’s detectives have
charged 61 more suspects. “There’s some
luck involved, but mostly it’s everyone
chipping in and working together,” he says.
Lady Luck has nothing on the cold case
unit, though, which has turned a record
number of cases from red to black this year.
One of McLarney’s first directives as
major was to double the cold case squad to
13 detectives and supervisors. As of June,
the unit had closed nine murders—the same
number of cases it closed in all of 2008.
Each Baltimore homicide detective
typically handles six to nine murders a year,
almost twice the national average of four.
Given the volume of crime, cases can go
“lukewarm” quickly, explains McLarney,
and even a murder as fresh as 2008 can be
passed along to cold case.
Last year, when the city saw a string of
prostitutes murdered, a cold case task force
combed through 38 similar cases, dating
back to 1994, to look for patterns. They
used DNA samples to clear several cases,
including one in which the suspect murdered two women and assaulted another.
Some of the most frustrating cases are those
in which detectives have a suspect, but no
evidence.
McLarney and his team usually know
which drug organization is behind a shooting, for example; they might even know
the gunman’s name. “It’s just a matter of
proving it.”
DNA evidence was first employed in
1988 to convict a murderer in England,
and forensic science has since revolutionized the world of homicide.
In the old days, a hair could reveal race
and little else. Today, advancements in both
forensic and computer technology allow
detectives to link a suspect to his crimes—
past and present—through microscopic
skin cells, ballistics, and more.
“Forensics has changed the entire ballgame,” says McLarney, but not always
for the better.
TV shows like CSI have greatly
exaggerated the capabilities of forensic
science. As a result of this “CSI effect,”
juries often expect the impossible from
investigators.
Also, says Detective Marvin Sydnor,
it’s made some criminals smarter.
“I’ve been out to murder scenes
where you can still smell the bleach
from the guy trying to clean up after
himself,” says the 24-year veteran.
“Every move we make, they’re sitting
in jail trying to counter. It’s like a
chess game.”
Cell phone technology and surveillance cameras, 500 of which dot Baltimore, have also upped the ante. Still, says
McLarney, no gadget trumps tenacity and
good, old fashioned police work.
He recalls a 2007 case in which a
Morgan State University graduate was
Sometimes, McLarney longs for his days as
a detective. “As you make rank, you get further and
further from the streets,” he says, wistfully.
McLarney’s weekly operations meetings
have nothing on a red ball, a high-profile
case that can make or break a detective’s
career.
Still, there’s no question he’s the right
man for the job. After launching a nationwide search
in 2008 for a new homicide commander,
the brass offered the position to McLarney
who, in his first 15 months on the job is
clocking a 61 percent clearance rate, seven
points higher than the national average for
cities of Baltimore’s size.
Up to 50 detectives pass through his
fifth floor office each day to chat about a
case or commiserate about last night’s
Orioles game. His affection for his detectives is obvious, and despite the demands
of upper management, he’s always got time
for an encouraging word or a story from
“the old days.”
McLarney has always bled blue and
now, at the helm of homicide, it’s his
responsibility—and his privilege—to shape
the next generation of detectives, the men
and women who read David Simon’s book
Homicide 18 years ago with eyes wide and
minds racing.
“I’m an unabashed cheerleader: I
think we have the best homicide unit in
the United States,” he says. “Chemistry is
everything in a unit, and I’ve been lucky to
have such a great group of cops.”
He’s also fortunate to have spent the last
33 years chasing his passion—lights, sirens,
and all.
“Only a handful of my friends love what
they do. I’m lucky to have done something
in my life that continues to fascinate me.”
Fells Point is known for its watering holes, including the Wharf Rat, above, and the fictional Waterfront
bar owned by detectives on TV’s Homicide.
summer 2009 
Photo by Soko Hirayama.
Photo from Stockxchng.
oregon ave.
Under
Rotting
Leaves
Somewhere deep in the heart
of Washington lives a pale, blind shrimp-like
creature. It’s been there for millions of years,
burrowing in the muck under rotting leaves
and dining on bacteria.
It’s called an amphipod, and some of its kind
are found only in Rock Creek Park, where
biology professor David Culver and his
students are hunting them.
D.C. Avenues
By Sally
Acharya
of Opportunity
P.31
P.30
P.30
P.29
The amphipod, which is barely the size of
a thumbnail, is one of three creatures native to
the District to make the endangered species list.
The others are the bald eagle and the cougar.
Finding amphipods takes a lot of hiking
to pinpoint a possible habitat—named
hypotelminorheic—which Culver gets a kick out
of pronouncing. To the untrained eye, it’s just a
damp spot in the woods. It’s actually a kind of
seep with poor drainage, where hours of turning
up leaves at the right time of year just might
uncover the eyeless, unpigmented creature.
P.29
oregon ave.
georgia ave.
Massachusetts ave.
florida ave.
new jersey ave.
michigan ave.
 american
P.30
Culver and his students have been surveying
the amphipods in partnership with the
National Park Service, whose keen interest in
the odd creatures as indicators of ecosystem
health belies their minuscule size.
“Three (amphipod) species are found nowhere
else except the park system of D. C.,” says Culver.
“Is this a remnant of a widespread species? How
can it survive? What’s threatening it?”
They’re not just rare. One may even be a new
species, found by Culver and his AU students.
They’re awaiting the verdict.
Rock Creek Park is home to an endangered creature, and Professor David Culver and his students
are on its trail.
Meanwhile one student is trying to learn more
by sequencing amphipod DNA, while the Park
Service, which has provided funding for several
AU graduate students involved in the project,
is using the data for ecological protection. The
presence of the secretive creatures has already
required the city to change the way it channels
georgia ave.
When the
Cameras
Roll
You never know what will
happen when the cameras roll. But when you’re
making a documentary, you’re not just looking
for a good image. You’re there to capture a
moment of truth.
The students had been filming for hours in the
effort to show what their professor, filmmaker
some of its storm runoff, which often drains
into Rock Creek Park.
“It points out how important the park
is as a repository of biodiversity,” says
Culver. Besides, he adds, “They’re really
neat animals.” •
in residence Nina Shapiro-Perl, calls the
“unseen, unheard Washington.” Not the city
of lawmakers and lobbyists, but the community
of working people like the Guatemalan
housekeeper and her skateboarding son who
opened their Rockville, Maryland, home to
a team of film and anthropology students.
The graduate class partnered with nonprofit
organizations that matched the students with
subjects; in turn the organizations can use
the students’ films on their Web sites. But the
students also partnered with the people they
met—people like Frances Garcia and 13-yearold Gabriel.
Frances, who is learning English through the
Montgomery Coalition for Adult English
Literacy, told her story in her newly acquired
English, with the help of her frequent translator,
Gabriel. Then the boy began to share some
private thoughts.
By Mike Unger
summer 2009 
Gabriel and Frances Garcia spoke openly with
AU students.
Meet Gabriel and Frances Garcia at
edwinmah.com/film-mediaarts/2009
/05/mcael/
More films from the class can be viewed at
www.american.edu/soc/film/unseen
-unheard.cfm
The
Tale
of
Two
Cities
 american
“It’s a richness of memory and association.
Memory is so important. Memory is a part
of how people think about place.” •
Washington, D.C., can mean different things to different people. An AU professor is studying D.C. as
an anthropologist.
Kennedy Center, Washington, D.C.
They came to AU for a song.
Thirty-four teens with soaring voices came
from around the country and Europe to train
at the Washington National Opera Summer
Institute at American University.
vocal coaches and musicians who devoted
hours to honing the sparkling young voices.
AU music students served as mentors and
residence assistants for the participants, who
lived on campus.
It all capped off with an opportunity to sing
at the Kennedy Center.
It was the first year for the partnership
between the university and the prestigious
workshop of the opera company headed by
tenor Placido Domingo.
The intensive workshop brought some of the
country’s most talented high-school students
to the nation’s capital for three weeks of trills
and vibrato, Italian arias and breath practice,
music theory and period movement, audience
applause, and one-on-one coaching.
Only the best of the best landed spots at the
institute, where AU faculty were among the
new jersey ave.
Are you from Washington or D.C.?
Sabiyha Prince is from D.C. and knows the difference.
One is the Hill; the other is the hood. Prince is studying
what “D.C.” means to people who grew up and live in
the city and now perceive its changing streets through
the lens of personal history and experiences.
“I’m interested in how a place is socially constructed—
how people talk about D.C., what is unique about how
it developed, how it became this place that for some
In July, Washington had a chance to be
dazzled by the promising young voices at two
Katzen Arts Center recitals, and a Kennedy
Center showcase that featured some of the
workshop’s young stars •
florida ave.
African Americans, whether you live here or not, is
referred to as Chocolate City. It has a meaning about
black people running a city, what it means to have a
majority population, and the theme of facing change.”
Her work is a far cry from the old image of an
anthropologist who swoops into another culture
from some far-off colonial land. For Prince, too, it’s
a departure after her earlier work in Harlem, as well
as a scholarly challenge.
Chemists
michigan ave.
vs Microorganisms
Monika Konaklieva is a
chemist with a cause. Lives around the world
are at stake in a race that pits the minds of
scientists against the speedy evolution of
dangerous microorganisms. The professor
and her students are part of that race as they
work to combat drug-resistant bacteria in
partnership with the Children’s National
Medical Center, Walter Reed Army Institute
of Research, and the Tuberculosis Research
Lab at the National Institutes of Health.
Photo by Jeff Watts.
Video screenshots from edwinmah.com
The AU students had caught it all. They’d have
a good short film. But more important, they’d
gained insight into the lives of others in their
Washington community •
Photo from Istockphoto.
Opera’s Future
“Rather than privileging my viewpoint as a
person from D.C., I just see it as a resource.
I have some rich experiences growing up in
a place like this. I remember going through
the riots. It didn’t affect my neighborhood,
but it affected my sense of security and my
sense of race. I remember people trying to
protect property by putting things like ‘Soul
Brother Number One’ in the windows of
their stores or on their cars.
Photo from Stockxchng.
“I love being Latino, ’cause I feel there is a lot of
passion in us . . . We’re very dedicated and put
heart into what we want to do, and I see that,
’cause we have gone far. That just really fills me
up.” He wiped a tear away. His mother looked
at him with glowing eyes.
Massachusetts ave.
Photo by Jeff Watts.
His lips quivered. He told of his mother’s
bravery in coming to America with a young
child and no English. And he spoke softly
of what his heritage means to him.
AU is testing compounds that are different
from penicillin in their structure but can
also, like penicillin, destroy the cell walls of
bacteria. Much of the work is done with AU’s
state-of-the-art equipment, such as a new mass
spectrometer that measures the chemical weight
of compounds.
Antibiotics have saved millions of lives, but
they’re threatened by counterattacks from
bacteria with resistance to the life-saving drugs.
One of those, Stenotrophomonas maltophilia,
causes meningitis and other diseases.
Doctoral student Terena Herbert also uses
the lab facilities of Walter Reed. “Dr. K gives me
the compound her chemistry students make,
and I test them on rat brain cells to see if they
can protect the brain against a chemical called
glutamate,” says Herbert. “It’s the most prevalent
neurotransmitter in your body, but if it’s not
regulated, or there’s too much of it, it causes cell
death and can lead to neurological disorders.”
Premed student Tim Beck, who works with
“Dr. K,” as students call Konaklieva, explains
how it works. “It takes about 20 minutes for
a generation of bacteria to establish itself. So,
when people feel better and stop taking their
tuberculosis-fighting drugs, for instance, the
hardiest bacteria pass on their resistance to the
next generation. Evolution takes place in no
time at all for these organisms.”
Herbert is a student in the Behavioral
Cognition and Neuroscience program in
the psychology department; Konaklieva
teaches in both the psychology and chemistry
departments. Working with several
departments and finding partners among the
area’s top research institutes is part of how
researchers at AU ensure that their students
gain a top science education.
Chemist professor Monika Konaklieva tackles
drug-resistant bacteria.
“In this day and age, it’s too complicated not
to go interdisciplinary,” Beck says. “There’s no
one person who can know enough, even
if you have five PhDs. That’s something AU
has done very well. I’ve had opportunities
I never imagined.” •
summer 2009 
Class notables
Lilly M. Ledbetter v. Goodyear Tire and Rubber
Company, Inc. was the most publicized case of his
career, Goldfarb says, “one that caused the law
to change.” The act gives women the ability to
challenge unequal pay in the workplace.
When Lilly Ledbetter walked into Jon Goldfarb’s office 10 years
ago, he had no idea that her name would become synonymous
with the 2009 Fair Pay Act signed by President Barack Obama
just one week into his presidency.
Lilly M. Ledbetter v. Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company, Inc.
was the most publicized case of his career, Goldfarb says, “one
that caused the law to change.” The act gives women the ability
to challenge unequal pay in the workplace. According to the
Hare Communications
SO YOU CAN CATCH UP WITH PEOPLE YOU KNEW AT AU
Jon Goldfarb, SOC/MA ’90
Gail Moaney, SOC/MA ’75
Gail Moaney wanted to be an art teacher who would encourage
students to expand their appreciation of the visual world.
With an eye on her goal, the native New Yorker headed to
Howard University to major in fine arts and minor in education.
But her career took a different turn, and three decades later the
much-honored public relations executive does spend her days
encouraging millions of Americans to expand their horizons in a
different manner—world travel.
As executive vice president and director of Travel and Economic Development at Ruder Finn in New York, Moaney oversees communications programs for international tourism boards,
airlines, hotels, and resorts. “I like promoting something that
makes people smile,” she said.
When Moaney graduated from Howard in the early 1970s,
the job market for teachers was tight. Instead she landed a secretarial job at NBC’s Washington, D.C., affiliate, WRC-TV.
She loved live television—
“getting it right the first time,
creating something visually
interesting, and interacting
with talent.” So over nearly
nine years Moaney learned
that knowing a business from
the bottom up was exciting,
and paid off. She rose through
the ranks from secretary to
assistant, associate, and finally
producer. She also decided to
solidify her hands-on experiGail Moaney ’75
ence with formal training at
 american
AU’s graduate program in broadcasting production and management. The school was perfectly located—across the street from
the TV station.
After WRC Moaney was executive producer at a PBS station
in Washington and one in Columbus, Ohio, and then served as
chief of communications for the State of Ohio Department of
Economic Development.
When her husband’s job took them back to New York,
Moaney’s media and management experience was a perfect segue
into public relations. She also finally realized her early dream of
teaching. As an adjunct professor at NYU’s School of Continuing
She loved live television—“getting it right the
first time, creating something visually interesting,
and interacting with talent.”
and Professional Studies, she teaches a graduate course in global
relations and intercultural communications.
Moaney has been honored by the Public Relations Society of
America and won Emmy Awards from the National Academy of
Television Arts and Sciences.
In February, she was again tapped to serve her native city
when she was invited to join the New York Urban League’s
Board of Directors. There she will promote the organization’s
programs—helping New Yorkers attain equal access to jobs,
education, and a livable wage. It’s an honor she’s earned from the
bottom up.
— MIKHAILINA KARINA
keeps the flames of his film passion alive by serving on the board
of directors for the Alabama Moving Image Association, which
sponsors Birmingham’s annual Sidewalk Moving Picture Festival.
Reflecting on his professional choice, Goldfarb notes that he
realized he “enjoys helping people.”
Circling back, Lilly Ledbetter is working on a book chronicling her battle and victory, in which Goldfarb plays a starring
role. There is talk of a feature film—a picture perfect ending for
this lawyer with a cinematic past.
—MIKHAILINA KARINA
Kyle Taylor, SIS/BA ’06
Jon Goldfarb ’90 and Lilly Ledbetter
National Women’s Law Center, women still earn, on average,
only 78 cents for every dollar earned by men.
An attorney with the Birmingham firm of Wiggins, Childs,
Quinn, and Pantazis, Goldfarb specializes in employment discrimination cases that may involve pay, gender, or race.
“People need to stand up for their rights in the workplace,” he
says. “The laws are in place, and people need to take advantage of
those laws. Or things won’t change.”
He says it’s unfortunate that employers comply with the laws
only as a result of costly litigation. In fact, Goldfarb explains, employers don’t save money by maintaining discriminatory practices
and preventing the most competent people—who may be women
or minorities—from moving into higher positions. “It’s cheaper not to discriminate,” Goldfarb advises.
A consummate attorney by day, he is also passionate about
film. After earning his JD from Emory University, Goldfarb enrolled in AU’s film program, and was, for a time, a filmmaker for
the federal government.
When he was back home in Birmingham working on a film
for the Veterans Administration, Goldfarb ran across his boss
from his law-clerking days and accepted a short-term legal assignment. Seventeen years later, he is still with that firm. Goldfarb
In the end, it wasn’t about the channel, it was about the kid.
For 10 weeks, Kyle Taylor trained almost fanatically with his
sights set on swimming across the English Channel. What began
as a fund raiser for his four-year-old friend, Harvey Parry, had
evolved into a personal quest.
Taylor’s window for the 22-mile channel crossing was July
4 to 7. His energy drinks were mixed, his mom was in town to
Kyle Taylor ’06
summer 2009 
root him on, and he was generally psyched, so when wind ruined
“I thought, here I am training, let’s make something of it and
one attempt and appeared likely to do the same the next two days,
do it for a good cause,” said Taylor, who recently had taken up
Taylor shifted course.
swimming again. “I tend to be the type who does very bizarre, off “My mom and support crew could only be here through the
the-wall things.”
14th,” said Taylor, who is studying in Britain this year. “I wanted
Case in point: Taylor decided he would swim the 22-mile
to do something big while they were here—for them, for me, and
English Channel. He threw himself into a rigid training regimen,
for the four-year-old boy who lost both his legs to meningitis.
solicited pledges on his Web site, and raised more than $10,000 for
Somewhere along the way it stopped being about getting to France Harvey.
and started being about sharing this journey with everyone in my
Although the weather thwarted his channel crossing dream,
life, beating the cold, and doing all I could to help Harvey walk
Taylor was determined to accomplish something big, for his sake
again.”
and for Harvey’s.
So Taylor decided to dive into what had been his arch nemesis
So Dover Harbour it was. For nine hours Taylor swam, back
the past few months—frigid Dover Harbour.
and forth, and back again. When he emerged from the water he
It was in the 50-degree waters
had logged 25 miles—three more than
of the harbour, 75 miles east of
the width of the channel.
Taylor decided he would swim the 22-mile
London, that Taylor, a former
“I started to realize, in many
competitive swimmer at AU, took English Channel. He threw himself into a ways, how selfish this whole thing had
his first 15-minute swim in prepabecome—everyone waiting around for
rigid training regimen, solicited pledges me to swim, spending nearly $3,000
ration for his channel crossing.
“I didn’t know how I was
on a pilot boat, sucking the time and
on his Web site, and raised more than
going to make it out alive,” said
energy of everyone around me just so
$10,000 for Harvey.
Taylor, who wasn’t wearing a wet
I could say ‘I swam the channel.’” he
suit. “It was so cold I felt like I
said. “This was supposed to be about
had an ice cream headache that
challenging myself to do something
just didn’t go away.”
physically incredible while raising money for Harvey. So, seeing no
Taylor, 25, is studying at the London School of Economics as
real opportunity to swim to France, I decided to face my personal
a Rotary Scholar, and it was through the Rotary Club there that
challenge and donate the $3,000 I would have spent to cross the
he met Harvey. Prosthetic legs enable the four-year-old to remain
channel directly to Harvey.
mobile, but since he’s growing so quickly he requires a new set of
“This whole experience can be life-changing,” he said, “and it
complex titanium ones with bending knee joints. This is extraorhas been for me.”
dinarily expensive, so Taylor started thinking about ways to help
As it was for Harvey as well.
Harvey’s mother pay for the prosthetics.
—Mike Unger
 american
on
american.edu
The new American.edu is one of the most vibrant, dynamic online destinations in all of higher education.
But don’t just take our word for it. In July, the site won the eduStyle Higher-ed Web Award for Best Overall Web Site.
AU was the choice of both the judges, and the people who voted on eduStyle.com.
Among some of the highlights at www.american.edu:
>
The Discover AU virtual tour won the
eduStyle Best Use of Interactive
Multimedia and Video award.
www.american.edu/discoverau/
>
Baltimore Police Department Major
Terry McLarney was a major player in
David Simon’s brilliant book and
television series, Homicide. Read the
book online.
http://books.google.com/books?id=gf
3Z9K2rb6AC&printsec=frontcover&
dq=Homicide
>
McLarney played football for AU in
1973 and ’74. Read about AU’s
pigskin teams and browse other old
stories at the Eagle’s online archives.
www.library.american.edu/about/
archives/eagle_history.html
>
>
>
Become a fan of AU on Facebook and
join the conversation.
www.facebook.com/
AmericanUniversity
Now that you’ve read the issue, here are a
few recommendations related to this
edition’s features:
>
>
Back on My Feet
http://backonmyfeet.org/
The musical world of John Wineglass
www.johnwineglass.net/mainpage.html
 american
>
Fat, meaty, and sweet crab cakes at
Faidley Seafood in Baltimore
www.faidleyscrabcakes.com/story
.html
> Philly’s famous gooey cheesesteaks
Geno’s: www.genosteaks.com/
Jim’s: www.jimssteaks.com/
Pat’s: www.patskingofsteaks.com/
>
Corned beef piled high to the sky on
rye in New York
Carnegie Deli: www.carnegiedeli.com/
Katz’s Deli: www.katzdeli.com/
>
Miss D.C., Jen Corey, CAS/BA ’09,
tweets about the doe (back cover) on
AU’s campus. http://twitter.com/
MissDC2009.
Corey
American Today. Stay up-to-date with
campus and professional news, AU
features, and links to faculty and
student blogs.
www.american.edu/americantoday/
index.cfm
tesy of Jen
>
If our stories have inspired you to hop on
I-95 and visit our neighboring cities to the
north, you’ll be hungry when you get there. A
few tips on where to nosh when you arrive.
Photo cour
What’s going on at AU? Consult the
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Doe, the newest member of the AU track
team, was caught running laps in late July.
When she’s not circling the track, the doe—
who’s believed to live behind the President’s
Office Building—has been spotted studying
the sculptures in front of the Katzen Arts
Center and crossing Ward Circle.
Photo: Jeff Watts