Hoosier Features

IU’s Little 500 tradition began including women in the 1950s, just not on two wheels. While the men tore up Bill Armstrong Stadium, the women were relegated to a short tricycle race in Assembly Hall. Women weren’t taken seriously on the track until 1987, when a team from the Kappa Alpha Theta sorority nearly qualified for the men’s race. The next year, coeds got their own event at the Little 500, and it enters its 25th year on April 20. Although the female cyclists race 100 laps, half the distance of the men’s race, they are every bit the campus royalty as their male counterparts. “It was a much bigger deal than I’d thought,” says Sarah Fredrickson, who was part of the winning team 10 years ago and remains an elite cyclist today. “Everyone on campus knew who I was.”

Fox says she has to be careful when making reservations, especially when traveling, so she’s not roomed with someone expecting her to be a man. But those who meet her face to face have no problem distinguishing her from the comedian.

“I was lucky with my parents,” Austin says. “They were always willing to drive me somewhere at 5 a.m.” Now it’s time for Austin to drive herself the rest of the way, and see how far she can go.

Rupert Boneham once earned enough votes to win the title of “America’s favorite Survivor.” Can the Libertarian fare as well in his bid for the governorship? We asked a few of his former opponents.

More than 40,000 readers visit Erin Loechner’s Design for Mankind site every day for chirpy commentary on decor, fashion, and art.

Fearing they wouldn’t have the votes to block a Republican-proposed “Right to Work” bill last winter, House Democrats retreated to a budget hotel in Urbana in February, just across the Illinois border, leaving Republicans without the quorum necessary to advance the legislation. In a call with minority leader Pat Bauer, who was pictured working the phone at a tiny desk in his hotel room, House Speaker Brian Bosma reportedly told him to “get back here” (even though Bosma had led his own party’s walkout in 2004). When they finally returned in March, the Dems owed an average fine of more than $3,000. “We found that Illinois has excellent malls,” Rep. Win Moses, D-Fort Wayne, told the Associated Press. “And there’s a mini-mart right across the street.” Oh, and good news: Republicans plan to make the bill a top priority again this year.

This month, Steele Johnson, a phenom-in-the-making from Carmel, will take on some of the country’s best divers at the USA Diving Winter National Championships in Knoxville, Tennessee. Even though Johnson, 15, will compete against Olympians, his coach, John Wingfield, expects him to medal in the individual and synchronized 10-meter platform events. (Wingfield should know: He coached the 2008 U.S. Olympic team.)

A well-worn “tale as old as time” brought all of its truisms and talents to the Clowes Memorial Hall stage on Tuesday night. It was opening night for the NETworks production of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, which yet runs Oct. 13 through 16 here. This latest nationally-touring take on the show jump-starts both the Broadway in Indianapolis 2011-12 season and the source material itself.

As a Ball State musical-theater grad, Emily Behny was prepared for drama—and she got plenty of it last fall when she auditioned for the lead in the Broadway touring production of Beauty and the Beast. At the conclusion of one callback in New York City, where Behny was living, she was asked to return the next day and sing for a musical director. She already had plans: She was getting married. In a rather Disney-esque sequence of events, Behny spent the evening waiting tables, went out for her bachelorette party, made the 10 a.m. audition for the part of Belle, and dashed off to her afternoon nuptials at City Hall. When she and her Prince Charming returned from their honeymoon, she learned she had landed the role. “I heard the good news from my agent on the tarmac,” Behny says.

Then: Hank Aaron: Chasing the Dream, 1995

Philly native Michael Tollin brought his first documentary to Heartland, where it won a Crystal Heart Award and became a calling card for the fledgling Tollin/Robbins Productions.

There is a lot of nowhere in indiana. I know this. I’ve seen it, grown up in it, lived in it. And right now my wife Michelle and I are poised at its edge, in search of the best breaded pork tenderloin sandwich in the state of Indiana.

What makes this Columbus institution really sweet is the counter-side charm of Wilma Hare and her fellow soda jerks, who will pull you an ice cream soda the way it was in 1900 and serve it with a side of sass: “When that ice cream hits the carbonation, it will explode like a volcano. And I will laugh at the look of panic on your face.”

His car owner, Howard Marmon, however, was having a different sort of evening.

Milan could be any small Indiana town—except, of course, for its high-school basketball team, which won the state title almost 60 years ago. Now, a few locals are trying to adapt that history into a basketball museum and a bid at reviving their town. But could Milan’s legacy actually be what keeps it from moving forward?