Pfeiffer’s Hardware in Mount Pleasant has reshuffled its stock. The screwdrivers, which used to hang low, are now up higher, about seven feet from the ground. There’s a reason for that. “We noticed that they kept going missing,” says Pfeiffer’s General Manager Robert Larson. He doesn’t know how many screwdrivers disappeared during a spate of thefts last summer, but it was “a good amount. Enough for us to notice.”

The cops noticed, too. “From what the police told us, they were using them to crack into car trunks,” Larson says. Apparently, stealing screwdrivers is a gateway crime to a more serious form of larceny.

In addition to elevating the devices, Pfeiffer’s staff hung them on “locking pegs,” which make it difficult for customers to snatch and run. Larson says the thefts haven’t stopped altogether, but “it’s been a little tighter of a ship since last summer.”

In its heyday, many prominent people supported the Eastern Branch of the Boys & Girls Clubs of Greater Washington. “It was a central charity of the NBA All-Star Game,” Capitol Hill resident Jim Myers says. “Clinton painted a wall there.”

Last month, however, far less credible advocates lobbied on behalf of the Capitol Hill club. On Nov. 27, Marc Borbely was on his way to class at the University of the District of Columbia David A. Clarke School of Law when he spotted several kids soliciting money for the club. “‘Please help us try to keep the Eastern Boys & Girls Branch open,’” he remembers them saying. Borbely found their plea strange: The branch has been closed since August.

Kerrin Torres, spokesperson for the Boys & Girls Clubs of Greater Washington, says, “If we did solicit funds, we’re not raising money for the Eastern Branch.” She says anyone who sees kids trying to raise money for the clubs on street corners or at Metro stops should call the organization immediately.

“It’s bittersweet that people are trying to raise money for the club we don’t have,” says Myers.

Veteran D.J. and legendary music scenester Tom Terrell passed away Nov. 29, Bobby Hill, program director for WPFW says, and he will be greatly missed.

“He was a musical genius,” Hill says. “He knew dates, he knew facts. Music was his love and he knew a lot about it.”

Terrell, who hosted a program for WPFW before moving on to WHFS, was planning a return to WPFW when he succumbed to cancer last week. “We were making plans in that direction and he was very much looking forward to it,” Hill says.

Hill last saw Terrell on July 29, when the 9:30 Club held a benefit in his honor. A press release circulated before the event described Terrell as “a close friend to and an early moving force for d.c. space and its non-profit off-shoot, District Curators Inc., as well as WPFW and the Nightclub 9:30.”

According to the release, he was a graduate of Howard University, an accomplished D.J., a radio programmer, concert promoter, tour manager, photographer, and music journalist for a slew of publications that included the Washington City Paper.

“In Washington he’s known for pioneering radio ‘Stolen Moments’ (WPFW), ‘Sunday Reggae Splashdown’ and ‘Cafe C’est What’ (WHFS), and is currently the jazz reviewer for NPR’s ‘All Things Considered,’” the release says.

“Tom’s passion for music transcended boundaries and was, as Duke Ellington used to say, beyond categories,” longtime friend and Birchmere promoter Michael Jaworek says. “He helped promulgate music wherever he encountered it.”

Details about services to be held in Terrell’s honor to follow.

Sadie Dingfelder and I took to the roads again yesterday, this time with news reporter Ruth Samuelson as our fearless leader. Braving the wilds of Bethesda was challenging. We had to slalom between giant piles of leaves and brake for a soccer ball at one point.

We’re making progress, though, and Ruth had some important pearls of wisdom to impart. For example, it’s ok inch slowly past a stop sign so you can see oncoming traffic. And the first person to arrive at a four-way stop has the right of way.

Driving continues to be an uphill journey for us, the biddies of the Beltway, the distressed damsels of driver’s ed. Sadie’s found she’s the Republican of the roads, always edging a little too far to the right. And I’m still sneaking up to the speed limit too slowly. But we’re getting there.

In fact, I think it’s time for our first real road trip. We need a destination. It should be an hour or so away without hitting the highway. Suggestions?

Driving Lesson 5
Destination: Bethesda
Lessons Learned: Stop means go slowly until you can see
Weather Conditions: Overcast
Sadie: B
Jessica: B

Instructors Comments: “Jessica is anxious about leaving the empty neighborhood roads–with their soft buffers of leaf piles–but she’s ready for bigger streets, and next time, she should go for it. Sadie earns extra points for boldness. But, she needs to become more of a road centrist, and stop favoring the right side so much.” – Ruth Samuelson

There’s been a lot of chatter in recent years about forces arrayed against Christmas. Bill O’Reilly famously called it a war. So who’s Santa’s newest enemy? Facebook. According to a front page article in the Washington Post, the social networking site ruined Sean Lane’s Christmas when it broadcast his recent diamond ring purchase to hundreds of classmates, friends, and coworkers—not to mention the ring’s intended recipient, his wife.

So Lane did something about it. He railed against Facebook’s new feature called Beacon, which alerts your entire network to recent purchases. He got 50,000 people to sign a petition telling the site to stop publicizing what they bought. And as Facebook often seems to do, it responded. Now, Beacon won’t broadcast purchases unless you click “ok.”

And I say, Thank God. I don’t need the whole world knowing how much Diet Coke and Chunky soup I’m consuming these days.

D.C. Tunnel will be able to dole out drinks again following a decision by the Alcoholic Beverage Control Board yesterday. Police chief Cathy Lanier suspended the club’s liquor license after a gun battle erupted between a group of men and four police officers outside the club early Saturday morning. The alcohol board decided to return the club’s license on a provisional basis. It must also hire reimbursable detail police officers to patrol the area outside the club, alcohol administration director Maria Delaney says.

D.C. Tunnel, also called Club Envy, was hosting a promoted event Friday night featuring TCB, Backyard Band, and Project Pat. According to an alcohol administration report, shortly after 3 a.m., four males exited the club and began shooting in the air towards MPD officers. Officer James Sulla then shot back, hitting one suspect in the foot and one suspect in the hand. Four men jumped into a Dodge Charger and sped away. The police followed them to the Edgewood Apartments at 600 Edgewood Street NE where they chased the suspects on foot. Two were apprehended, a police report says.

I’ve written before about Patrick, my beloved stylist at Bang Salon & Spa. In addition to giving great haircuts, Patrick also hands out stellar advice. Last night, for example, Patrick treated me to some holiday travel tips as he lopped off my overgrown locks.

1. Don’t be afraid to bargain
Over the Thanksgiving weekend, Patrick’s flight home was overbooked. So the airline asked passengers to relinquish their seats in exchange for some mystery perks. Patrick stepped up to the counter and began negotiating.

2. Start high
In a situation like this, you’ve got the upper hand, so Patrick asked for four round trip tickets and 50,000 miles to be used whenever, wherever he wanted. The airline employees laughed in his face.

3. Be patient
Undaunted, Patrick and his partner waited quietly as the rest of the passengers boarded the plane. Patrick explained his logic: The worst that could happen is the pair would board the plane as planned. Then, just as the final boarding announcement was made, the airline capitulated and offered them three round trip tickets each and 10,000 miles if they elected to take a later plane. They did.

The moral of the story? The holidays are a stressful time to travel, but with patience and pluck, you might just win big.

Photograph by Darrow Montgomery.

Against the sound of mariachi music, members of the pro-live entertainment group Hear Mount Pleasant rallied outside the Mt. Pleasant Library last night where members of the Mount Pleasant Neighborhood Alliance (MPNA) were meeting. The crowd, which lined the library steps and spilled out onto the sidewalk, waved signs saying “MPNA No Habla Por Nostras,” and “Dancing is Not a Crime.”

Hear Mount Pleasant and the MPNA are at odds over longstanding voluntary agreements that forbid live entertainment at three area restaurants (Don Jaime, Don Juan Restaurant and Carryout, and Haydee’s). Mayor Adrian Fenty and Ward 1 Councilmember Jim Graham attended the meeting and told protesters they looked forward to bringing the two sides together to discuss the issue.

It was a busy day for Hear Mount Pleasant. In addition to the nighttime rally, they staged a sit-in yesterday morning at Don Juan’s trash area to prevent District Department of Transportation (DDOT) officials from carrying out an inspection there. “We were there for about two hours,” says Hear Mount Pleasant member Amber Gallup. Some people sat on top of the structure while others gathered around it, she says.

According to spokesperson Erik Linden, DDOT was conducting a “routine inspection” to determine whether Don Juan’s trash structure was on public space. But group members say the structure has been there for 20-plus years, and if the owner, Alberto Ferrufino, brought his trash indoors, he would risk a health-code violation. Ultimately, the sit-in appeared to be successful. “We left without levying any enforcement,” Linden says. “We will be coordinating any further enforcement with the community.”

Bonnie Roskes’ publisher usually takes care of shipping the software books she writes, but sometimes she has to ship them herself. When she does, she often goes to the post office. Occasionally, she goes to Parcel Plus in Cleveland Park.

Parcel Plus isn’t Roskes’ favorite place. She thinks the owner is rude and the prices are high. She even said so in a March 2006 post on the Cleveland Park listserv.

But on Nov. 9, Roskes had a packed schedule, so she went to Parcel Plus, which is close to her home. As procedure dictates, she filled out forms with her name and address and handed them to an employee. “The guy typed my name into the computer and said, ‘Oh, you can’t ship here.’” Confused, she asked why, but the employee told her to contact the owner.

The next day, Roskes did exactly that. She assumed there was a glitch in the system. There wasn’t. The owner explained that because of Roskes’ listserv post, she had been banned from the store.

“My view was she had gone out of the way to damage my business in a public forum,” franchise owner Mike Finley says. “So I just basically told her she should take her business somewhere else.”

Roskes went home and fired off another angry e-mail to the listserv informing her neighbors about the blacklisting. Several of them wrote back pledging to boycott the store. “Obviously, I’ll never go back there,” Roskes says.

Some friends and I got together last Friday to try out the Restorative Yoga class at my gym. Now, like any self-respecting 26-year-old, I’ve spent plenty of time at yoga. I’ve sat cross-legged on more mats than I’d like to count, groaned my way through a series of Downward Dogs, and uttered Namaste with the best of them.

Except that I was the worst of them. I can’t do Downward Dog and my mind races right through the class’s most meditative moments. The minute I get to yoga, I flash back to my anti-athletic youth—chosen last for sports teams and faking injuries to get out of running laps. Then I think about all the work I have to do and how I’m going to pay my bills. By the time my 10 minutes of meditation are over, I’m in the middle of a panic attack complete with a fluttering heartbeat and the sweats. At least I look like I’ve had a workout.

That’s why Restorative Yoga is so good for me. My gym advertises it as more relaxing than sleep. And it’s just about as strenuous, too. Restoration Yoga involves lying face down on a pile of blankets, turning your head from one side to the other. An instructor slowly makes the rounds, lightly rubbing your back and spreading a blanket over you if you’re cold. It’s heaven, if heaven were naptime.

In fact, my only problem with Restorative Yoga is that I find the name deceptive. It isn’t exercise. It’s a way for young professionals, primarily women, to have an hour of infancy, curled up in a fetal position while a nurturing mother figure caters to our needs.

Which is why I don’t think men should be the only ones accused of arrested development these days. When the movie Knocked Up came out, critics seized on the guys reluctant to give up their pot and porn. The Nation’s Katha Pollitt wrote, “the real subject of Knocked Up is the immaturity of men: only under the most desperate circumstances will they put aside their bongs, or their porn, or their even more idiotic friends.” Perhaps. But I think women have their Peter Pan moments, too. Just take the estrogen-fest of Restorative Yoga.

Just when you thought H Street NE was finally safe for nightlife, Frozen Tropics notes that local residents are considering a cap on tavern and nightclub licenses.

Advisory Neighborhood Commissioner Mary Beatty says some residents who live nearby are concerned that noise from the bars could one day become a problem. “It’s not a problem at this point,” she says. “We want to get ahead of the issue.” The neighborhood recently instated a moratorium on single sales of beer and liquor, which went into effect Oct. 1.

Joe Englert, who owns five bars and clubs along H Street, says he thinks capping the area’s liquor licenses might be a good idea “if it’s smartly done, not puritanically done.” He thinks there should be no more than 40 or 50 bars or clubs allowed within 15 blocks. Beatty says she and her fellow commissioners have not come up with a number for the cap yet and are eager to hear neighbors opinions at a Nov. 20 public hearing.

Bryan Weaver, an advisory neighborhood commissioner in Adams Morgan, says H Street should view his neighborhood as a kind of cautionary tale. “They’re like Adams Morgan in the 1980s,” he says. “They’re trying to create an entertainment district. We’re just trying to keep the circus in the tent.” Adams Morgan residents passed a similar moratorium last year, and D.C. Council approved it in July.

In early October, Jon Schwabish decided to spruce up the garden in front of his house. He bought some tulip bulbs, dug a trench, planted them, and prepared to wait for blooms. A couple of weeks later, the Capitol Hill resident noticed four or five divots in his tulip bed. He figured squirrel or a cat might have gotten to his bulbs.

Not necessarily. A few days later, Schwabish’s wife was returning from a stroll when she noticed an elderly man rifling through her soil. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“‘No, you’re OK,” he replied.

Schwabish’s wife asked the man what he was doing. He mumbled, dropped something into a burlap bag, and walked away, leaving a fresh series of divots. The man had made off with their bulbs.

After the episodes, Schwabish bought 10 replacement bulbs at Eastern Market. He asked his neighbors for advice about how to prevent future thieves. Suggestions ranged from mousetraps in the dirt to switching from mulch to dog poop. He decided to cover his garden with chicken wire.

The party at Republic Gardens is over, at least for now. Whitney Restaurants Inc., the company that operated the club at 1355 U Street, was evicted Oct. 29 due to “over $200,000 [owed] in back rent [and] taxes,” landlord Henry McCall says.

U.S. Marshals carried out the eviction Monday morning. “That building has been gutted out,” McCall says. A day later, McCall changed the locks and padlocked the double doors at the club’s entrance. “I’ve never seen anybody I’ve wanted to shoot as much as him,” he says of his former tenant.

According to McCall, Whitney Restaurants Inc. stopped paying rent, water and electricity bills several years ago, prompting him to sue his tenant in July 2005. In February 2006, the two sides discussed a possible settlement of $105,029.05—less than the company actually owed, says McCall’s attorney Robert Bunn.

The settlement never came to pass. Elbert Robinson, Whitney’s president, says that’s because McCall was “unreasonable,” unwilling “even to make an agreement.” He suspects his landlord wants to redevelop the precious U Street property, with an assessed value of more than $1.6 million. But Bunn says the company never paid the settlement money, and when the lease expired in 2006, “no new lease was ever entered into.”

“We went to court and got judgment,” says McCall. “They were supposed to pay the money. When they didn’t pay the money, we got them evicted.”

McCall says he hopes to replace Republic Gardens with another nightclub. “I’d love to put a club there, because I feel they’re the ones making the money that can afford to pay,” he says.

And, according to Robinson, Republic Gardens will live on, too. He’s now “looking for a more suitable, more profitable location to go to,” he says.

That’s good news for the club’s loyal fans, who’ve swarmed the U Street institution since Marc Barnes owned the place in the ’90s. Daryl “Uncle Q” Francis, who DJ’d there a couple of times and hung out there often, says Republic Gardens “was one of the only establishments that catered to…sophisticated black folk without a too upper class attitude…It was always a nice place where you could see nice women.”

Alexis Diop, his girlfriend, was one of those women. She began bartending there soon after Barnes sold the club, in 2003, and says “the staff was like a family.”

A family with some secrets, perhaps: She said she didn’t know anything about the financial troubles the club was facing.

Francis says he’d heard rumors, but had no idea Republic Gardens was on the verge of eviction. “I was there Saturday night,” he says. “It was very much a surprise that it happened.”

Photographs by Darrow Montgomery

Happy Halloween, Washington. Welcome to my favorite holiday, the one that brings together two of my chief passions: candy and clothes.

I’ve been monitoring neighborhood Listservs to see how residents are preparing for tonight’s onslaught, and I discovered that Capitol Hill is embroiled in a serious debate: Do un-costumed kids deserve candy? If so, what kind?

One resident says she and her husband have initiated a policy to deal with costumeless kids. “We are pretty strict about the no costume-no candy rule and my husband revels in skimping out on the older kids with mediocre attempts at dressing up,” one neighbor posted on her local Listserv.

Another responded that plainclothes kids should be viewed within their socio-economic context. “I can understand feeling a bit ripped off by kids and adults who come with no costumes, but I’d like to urge some compassion – for the kids anyway. Younger kids in particular may not have the means or ability to put together a costume if Mom or Dad don’t help. What’s the harm in modeling generosity or teaching compassion by wishing everyone a Happy Halloween and giving out some candy?” she wrote.

Meanwhile, one resident said he was just too scared to deny kids candy. “I concur with the no costume-no candy rule, but then reality strikes. The kids without costumes are usually the kind who will remember your house and return with some ‘tricks.’ So it is better to just pay the protection candy and let them move on. Besides, one kid was pretty funny. I asked what he was dressed as and he said ‘I’m a student in the DC Public Schools, isn’t that scary?!!!’”

I was running some errands Saturday when I began to feel a bit peckish. No problem, I thought. I have to go to Whole Foods anyway. I can eat there. I wouldn’t buy lunch, of course. I’d compose it from delicious samples.

To sample successfully at the P Street Whole Foods, you go straight to the bakery section and work your way to the front. The bakery’s good for some fresh bread and, if you’re lucky, a bit of Mo’s Dipping Sauce. Then you head to the olive section where, without risking disapproval, you can sample as many olives as you like. Sometimes you even find a quartered quesadilla atop the prepared foods counter.

But for me, the heart of Whole Foods sampling is the cheese section. That’s where I had my first date with Parrano and where I’ve indulged my lifelong affair with Vermont cheddar. So on Saturday, I bucked tradition and beelined for the brie. It was the right move. I found three pristine triangles of soft cheese, two jars of chutney, and a mound of crackers.

But just as I prepared to shovel a cheese-slathered cracker into my mouth, a hand jutted out and grabbed it from me. “Can I help you?” said a man with a supercilious manner, a slight British accent, and a Whole Foods uniform. “Chutney?” “Sure,” I replied, caught and cowed. I took my chutney and bolted.

Now, I know Whole Foods serves an upscale clientele, and I recognize our society is moving towards ever more services. Just last week, the New York Times Magazine included a photo spread called At Their Service featuring a contemporary art conservator who makes house calls, a medical concierge, and a family wealth counselor.

But amid the abundance of Whole Foods, there’s still something to be said for a little DIY action now and then. I’ve always appreciated the store’s lax sample policies, and I consider it part of our tacit deal: I pay too much for produce, Whole Foods throws in freebies sans judgment. If I go in for seconds or thirds, staffers pretend not to notice. I’ve spent years preserving my end of the bargain, and I expect the same from Whole Foods. So, here’s my advice: Ditch the cheese guy and return to the laissez-faire sample style that got me hooked in the first place.