Meanwhile in Philadelphia, a dirty little alternative newsweekly got a face-lift in the form of its first official "redesign" courtesy of Kate Maskar. We welcomed Cindy Fuchs (movies) and Nicole Pensiero (music) into the fold and published our first of many letters to the editor from longtime correspondent A.Z. Hamburg. We also debuted Scott Huler's "700 Clubhouse" column—complete with zine-style art that always featured Veterans Stadium saying things like "I heard they traded Mike Schmidt" in scribbled speech bubbles.

It seems that while the world was going mad in '88, City Paper was on the lifestyle beat. Sure we reported on Bush's ties to Noriega, outed Temple and Fox Chase Cancer Center for doing nerve gas research, uncovered a labor scandal between the Inky and its suburban bureau stringers, dug up the dirt on hospital waste washing up on Jersey shores, and wondered if the Convention Center would suffocate Chinatown. But our exposes on men in drag, "Boston marriages" (two ladies living together long-term), coupling (marriages of convenience) and the rise of box lacrosse (for "people who miss the hitting that is no longer a part of hockey") were very much on the pulse of a rapidly evolving society. Oh man, you should have seen CP's Hair and Skin guide. Huler portended the coming of the fearsome... Carrefour? Michael "The Downshouter" McGettigan penned the story he was born to write: a guide to biking in the city. (Then Huler and McGettigan teamed up to interview the last man to finish in the CoreStates bike race.) By the year's end, The Downshouter mysteriously disappeared.

On the A&E front, we published our first official spring and fall lively arts guides, and dedicated two entire issues to book reviews. Peter Burwasser wondered if WHYY's classical programming had become too stodgy. We put Tracy Chapman and Mickey Mouse on the freaking cover. We reported on Schoolly D and Scram's rap-rock hybrid. Frank Blank, taking a break from his strangely tireless coverage of Jerry Lee Lewis, managed to segue, in one paragraph, from Chubby Checker to The Swans.

But the highlight of 1988 is perhaps our most brilliantly confounding headline/subhead yet: "Bored? Try Clubbing Yourself: There are some 20,000 official clubs in the United States, and at least one of them should help you endure the tiresome remains of March."

We're counting down (or up) to our 25th anniversary. Next week: 1989! Fax machines in the home! Baby boomer beverages! Teller speaks!