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Roni Walter

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November 1, 1998 | LYNELL GEORGE, TIMES STAFF WRITER
In a moment when the Metropolitan Transit Authority is gettin' "no love," bus-riding poet priestess Roni Walter wouldn't know what to do without the ailing entity--warts and all. Her bus pass isn't just fuel for the muse but her bid at proactive civic involvement. "I have no license. I can't drive. I'm extremely hyper. And I'm doing the world a community service by not. So I carry everything in my backpack--a change of clothes, my pieces of paper."
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NEWS
November 1, 1998 | LYNELL GEORGE, TIMES STAFF WRITER
In a moment when the Metropolitan Transit Authority is gettin' "no love," bus-riding poet priestess Roni Walter wouldn't know what to do without the ailing entity--warts and all. Her bus pass isn't just fuel for the muse but her bid at proactive civic involvement. "I have no license. I can't drive. I'm extremely hyper. And I'm doing the world a community service by not. So I carry everything in my backpack--a change of clothes, my pieces of paper."
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BUSINESS
December 30, 1992 | GEORGE WHITE, TIMES STAFF WRITER
Christmas and Hanukkah observances have ended. However, some Americans are still buying ceremonial candles, ordering food for special feasts, acquiring seasonal clothing and purchasing special gifts for loved ones. And that's good news for entrepreneurs who sell or make products used in the observance of Kwanzaa, a year-end celebration that evokes African culture for Americans of African descent.
ENTERTAINMENT
August 27, 1995 | Greg Braxton, Greg Braxton is a Times staff writer
There she was, winking knowingly into the camera as she karate-kicked in her superbaaaaad leather outfit, every hair in her boulder-sized Afro in place. Those in the overflow audience at the University Art Museum Pacific Film Archive at UC Berkeley could hardly contain themselves as they watched her on screen, battling the villains and romancing the good guys. The silky announcer on the trailer they were viewing for the 1974 blaxploitation epic "Foxy Brown" gave added punch to her punches.
NEWS
October 13, 2005 | Greg Braxton, Times Staff Writer
The throng at the Conga Room on L.A.'s Miracle Mile is just a dozen or so shy of a level that brings a frown to fire marshals. Elegantly dressed women occupy most of the seats, and the men jammed into the area near the bar have left the baggy club gear at home in favor of more fashionable garb. But despite the singles-night-out vibe, this evening is not about the hook-up. A few women sip Cosmopolitans, but the bar is doing only moderate business. Cellphones have been holstered and silenced.
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