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The Haunted Palace: Wayward Spirits of a Bad-Luck Bordello

by Sarah Peterson-Camacho
Forty-eight hours before he was murdered, Percy Williams was living large on the last night of September, 1890.
The favorite son of a former Attorney General of California, Williams was all of 26 years old, wealthy, married, with an infant already in the ground, since the previous February—but here he was at the Palace, Stockton’s premier bordello, cozying up to madam Dora Russell on El Dorado Street…only several blocks from the mansion where his young wife Bessie slept alone in their cold marital bed.

Fresno State Basketball Legend Chris Herren

by Steven Sanchez



If you were in Fresno in the mid to late 1990s and you thought of Fresno State Basketball, one name comes to mind: Chris Herren, the basketball prodigy from Fall River, Massachusetts. At the time, he played under legendary coach Jerry Tarkanian, who won the NCAA National Championship in 1990 at UNLV and was commonly referred to as “Tark the Shark.”

5 Tips to Improve Your Teaching and Boost Your Career

by staff


Starting a journey as a novice teacher can be thrilling yet daunting. Continuous administrative tasks, professional growth duties, and hurdles in the classroom often balance the joy of being part of an evolving and truly gratifying career. Establishing a robust set of habits during the initial years of teaching can consistently mitigate stress that could arise in the future.

How Your Spending Decisions Impact Your Beauty

by staff


There are many things that can impact your ability to feel beautiful. Beauty encompasses physical appearance, self-confidence, and overall well-being. While many factors contribute to one's beauty, spending decisions significantly shape and enhance it. How is your spending affecting your beauty?

Slain on Lovers Lane: The Century-Old Double Murder of Jazz-Age Lovebirds, Part 2

by Sarah Peterson-Camacho


Cradling the rose quartz pendulum in the palm of my hand, I gingerly picked my way across the dusty, uneven terrain of Sanger’s Bethel Cemetery, my darting eyes peeled for gopher holes. It was a beautiful day for a séance in a deserted country graveyard: a breezy, cloudless summer afternoon, unseasonably cool for the middle of a Central California July. And yet my palm was sweaty, sticking to the pendulum, and I felt oddly self-conscious.

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