Market St, Past and Present

Despite the sunny spring weather, I found the below sight on Market St in Old City this weekend rather depressing:
Images like this of urban decay alternate with hip boutiques and historic buildings in Old City and other parts of Philly. What did this same spot look like just over 100 years ago?

Photo of 306 Market St by Frank Taylor, undated, Free Library of Philadelphia

It was certainly a lot more quaint in the past, but look closely: the sidewalks were filthy (just like now!) and while the horses in the picture might look cute, they didn't smell cute.

Here's another view of that same area in an undated postcard, all spiffied up with added coloring and the ultra-modern trolley system.

Free Library of Philadelphia

And finally, William Birch's 1800 rendering of the Southeast Corner of Market and 3rd

New York Public Library

Some further historical digging shows that this part historic/part gentrified/part decayed block was home to a drug store owned by the son of famed botanist William Bartram in 1785, several homes of the prominent Wistar family, a dry goods store, and the terminus of a railroad.

To check out more (and hopefully more encouraging) historical image comparisons, check out the Free Library's photo map.

Liz Lemon defends Philly and Franklin

That is, the fictional character Liz Lemon on last week's episode of 30 Rock. As soon as I heard that Comcast was buying NBC, I wondered what this would do for the plot of 30 Rock--which revolves in part around a GE executive's control of a division of NBC. Well, the Philly-bashing began when fictional executive Jack Donaghy announced NBC's acquisition by Kabletown, headquartered in (said with distaste) Philadelphia. Perhaps the best quote of the night revolved around Philadelphia's favorite historic citizen, Ben Franklin.

Jack Donaghy on his hometown of Boston: "Boston tea party, Boston cream pie...birthplace of Benjamin Franklin."
Liz Lemon: "Yeah, then he looked around, realized it sucked, and moved to Philadelphia!"

Franklin's own version of that story in his autobiography: "I was rather inclined to leave Boston when I reflected that I had already made myself a little obnoxious to the governing party, and from the arbitrary proceedings of the Assembly in my brother's case, it was likely I might, if I stayed, soon bring myself into scrapes, and farther, that my indiscreet disputations about religion began to make me pointed at with horror by good people as an infidel or atheist."

Franklin then headed for New York before getting a tip about a job in Philadelphia, where he finally made his home. I visited the site of his house with a friend; all that remains is a modern outline of the house on the place where it would have stood. Franklin might or might not be delighted to know that below the site of his house is an underground museum with comically outdated technology and cheesy exhibitions, which another blogger has perfectly captured here. It would be the perfect scene for a 30 Rock episode when the cast has to come to town for a meeting with Kabletown/Comcast....

Philadelphia Skating Club performing a rescue as others skate happily on the Schuylkill in Fairmount Park in the late 19th century; image courtesy Library Company of Philadelphia

This has been a winter to empower the global warming naysayers--with a few snowstorms and freezing temperatures, it's hard to believe that the plant is getting warmer, on average. But a look back in time shows that we've just gotten wimpy.

This past weekend's bitter cold doesn't approach the cold of winters past in Philadelphia. A low in the teens, like we had this weekend, is abnormally cold these days. But most of the record lows for the city are much, much colder--with many below zero. Imagine being in Philly on February 9th, 1934: it was -11 degrees Fahrenheit.

Images even show that people could ice skate on the Schuylkill River in the late nineteenth century, and one image from the winter of 1856 shows skaters on the Delaware. Overall, as this graph shows, the past 20 years have been trending warmer. That historical perspective isn't making me feel any warmer, though!

Wrapping up summer in Philly

The past week has been strangely typical here for me: reading, cooking with finds from the farmers' market, and wonderfully random things going on in Rittenhouse Square. So, here's my week in pics:

I got fresh mozzarella and tomatoes from the Headhouse Square farmer's market, then picked up some basil at the produce market near my apartment. So, of course, I had to make a caprese salad.









On Thursday morning, I awoke to the sound of generators outside my apartment. I was pretty surprised to find out all the noise was from actors' trailers, parked right below my window. Paul Rudd and Jack Nicholson were filming a scene just around the corner, and as I stood outside watching the action each of them walked right past me. Sadly, I didn't get the pic--this is Rudd in Fitler Square from the arts review blog http://jimruttersreviews.blogspot.com/.




















And then, to top off the week, there were the nude bikers. I only captured the last few stragglers here; it was actually a huge mass of people, all in various levels of undress. The bikers were apparently trying to get across a number of messages--bicycle safety on city streets, carbon-free transportation, and body image awareness. What came through most clearly was that they and the crowds watching were having a great time.

A Philly Fourth

Since it's still July, I think the clock is not yet up on a post about being in the birthplace of the country on its anniversary. Having spent most of my life celebrating the 4th in Washington, DC, with the fireworks set behind the Washington Monument, I wasn't really expecting a singularly patriotic experience. In fact, what surprised me about the day here was that the celebrations felt more real, small-town, American than the massive celebrations in Washington.

The highlight of the day was going down to Old City to see the parade. It was like a very, very long version of a small town parade, with myriad ethnic groups represented and some extra historical reenactors thrown in. There were very few floats or large marching bands; most of the groups were smaller dance troupes or performers. We were surprised to find the parade route relatively uncrowded and had no trouble getting close up for good view. So, leaning against the wrought-iron fences surrounding one of the oldest churches in the country and the burial place of Benjamin Franklin, we watched step dancers, Civil War reenactors, Chinese ribbon dancers, a band of mummers, a polish heritage float, Irish dancers, local politicians, Native American dancers, and antique cars pass by. That curious mix made me feel happier to be American than just about anything else could have.

Seeing Philly through fresh eyes

I've had many friends visit me on weekend trips since I've moved here, which we've packed with activities matched to the visitor. For one friend, it was a walk to the Italian Market and a drive out to the Morris Arboretum; for another, shopping and barhopping; for all, meetings my friends and going to my favorite gelato place. But my most recent visitor came during the week, in the thick of my teaching and reading schedule, and just wanted to get a feel for what my life here is like.

Which, of course, included gelato and meeting friends. But it also included hanging out in the grad student center, lugging my library books to campus, and wandering around Center City. I was going about my usual routine, but pointing out the little things along the way: the market where I buy produce, the spot in Rittenhouse Square where little kids always play, the prettiest block of Delancey Street, the cute house I love just off Fitler Square. It was a reminder to me of all of the things I like best in the city and in my daily routine.

I was often surprised at the places my friend stopped to take pictures. His pictures choices made me look twice at familiar places; why had I never noticed that beautiful building? Was that the cutest side street to take a picture of?--I knew an even better one. Through his eyes I saw the beauty I had often passed by in hurried walks to campus or to run errands, beauty in the small details we forget to notice. If in travel "one’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things,” I think the guide to the traveler reaps the same benefit.

"Let it be told to the future world..."

The past and the future came together in Obama's inauguration this week. Among the many changes he is making, Obama is setting a very different tone down to the way he uses history. While his predecessor, President Bush, referred most often to history as that field which would vindicate him in the future, Obama is looking to the past to learn its lessons. That turn backward often leads to Philadelphia.

The inaugural weekend began with a train trip from Philadelphia to Washington, echoing the trip Abraham Lincoln made at his inaugural. Obama's new home street is so named because it connects the capitol and the White House, and Pennsylvania is where the Constitution (establishing these branches of government) was written. When he took his oath of office, he read words written in Philadelphia by the founders. Finally, he closed his speech with a rather strange choice of quotes: a writing by Thomas Paine, published in Philadelphia and read to the troops at Trenton during the American Revolution under George Washington's orders.

Paine, a radical revolutionary who is rarely quoted today, wrote a book called The American Crisis in the freezing winter of 1776 to boost the morale of the troops. Opening with the phrase, "These are the times that try men’s souls," Paine continued on with the words Obama quoted:
"Let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]." Just as Obama emphasized the need for all Americans to take action and effect change, Paine continued, "throw not the burden of the day upon Providence, but 'show your faith by your works.'"

I have a hard time imagining that what Obama calls "this winter of our hardship" is as desperate and daunting as the prospect before most American in the winter of 1776. Indeed, Obama's speech today was unusually grave. Will today be the start of a revolution? As I suggested before, I think it will be a peaceful revolution, more centered on how we live and think than how we govern ourselves. I hope it will be told to the future world that we succeeded in creating a new and better era in America.

The president-elect at independence mall

I was surprised to learn on the evening news last night that president-elect Obama and most of the nation's governors were in Philadelphia yesterday. It appears to have been more gimmick than substance, but the illustrious group met in Congress Hall for an address from Obama. What struck me most when I saw the video of the governors sitting upright on the straight-backed wooden benches was, of all things, the light.

(Photo: Jim Wilson/The New York Times)

Despite the film crews, the room was lit mostly by natural light, just as it would have been when a much earlier band of political leaders met in this room. Accustomed to the fluorescent glare of the senate and house chambers, I suddenly saw these politicians as people, not television stars. They were people who looked slightly ill at ease sharing the stiff seats in a room where the American republic took shape and whose predecessors left them a legacy that is becoming harder and harder to fulfill.

A simple pleasure

The past several weeks, I've been enjoying one of those little childhood pleasures I'd almost forgotten about: stepping with a loud "crunch" on sycamore bark scattered on the streets. There was only one sycamore tree in my neighborhood growing up, but I always loved walking passed it and crunching over the latest bark that the tree had shed. The sound and feel are satisfying in the same way popping bubblewrap is. I'd look down as I walked, changing the cadence of my step and carefully placing my foot over the bark with a slow heel to toe movement for a crinkling crunch or else a giant stomp for a quick pop of sound.

My neighborhood here in Philly actually has quite a few sycamore trees, so I've found myself occasionally swerving from my path to step on a piece of crunchy bark. It occurred to me today that I had no idea 1) what kinds of trees these were, and 2) why they shed bark at all. Through the wonders of the Internet I discovered that sycamores are common in Philadelphia and New York. Apparently their bark is very thin and peels off to allow the tree to grow, but beyond that, the "exfoliating bark" is a mystery.

In a way, that's satisfying. Childhood pleasures, even enjoyed as adults, are always more fun when they have some mystery in them.

Miniature wonders in a garden railway

I recently drove out to the Morris Arboretum with my grandparents on a beautiful weekend to see the flowers. I'd read that there would be a miniature railway, but I had no idea how elaborate it would be. This is apparently a yearly creation, and the theme for this year was "Architectural Wonders of the World." Mixed in with the famous buildings were historical landmarks from the Philadelphia area, such as several Boathouse Row boathouses and the Powel House. Below you can see the recreation of Bartram House, which I wrote about visiting this fall.All of the buildings were creatively constructed with natural materials, which gave the whole railway the look of some sort of fairy town. Adding to that effect were the world wonders scattered around the garden. My grandparents had visited most of the places and it was a chance for them to reminisce about their travels. I, on the other hand, have plenty of traveling yet to do.

Check out more pics of the railway and gardens on my Flickr stream.

If you can't take the heat...

Apparently the electrical system at my apartment building couldn't. I can't fathom why, but it took them all week to fix it. This means the building had to pay for all of the residents to stay in hotels. Which, in my case, meant a four-star hotel nearby that is probably one of the fancier places I've ever stayed. It's a French hotel and the lobby is full of people speaking French. Some other unique features:
-a piece of modern art over the bed with its own light
-a bathroom as big as the bedroom in my last apartment with separate shower and tub
-42" flat-screen television
-feather bed with what I'm guessing are at least 500 thread count sheets
-bottle of Evian delivered every evening

I was wondering if Philly had ever had any similar hotels in the past, and I found two contenders. First is the La Pierre, which was only 2 blocks from here and opened in 1853. As for hosting foreign guests, it sounds like they went to the United States Hotel in the middle of the 19th century. Any earlier than that century and no matter who you were, you were probably sleeping in a tavern; as the chapter on hotels in a late-19th century book on Philadelphia history notes, "In olden times, such a thing as the modern hotel, with its fashionably-dressed and all-important clerk, its vast smoking-room, carpeted parlors, gilt mouldings, and other luxurious appointments, was unknown." In this heat, I'd give up all the fanciness just for the air conditioning.

Rittenhouse Square Surprises

I spend a lot of time in Rittenhouse Square, and I'm constantly amazed at the strange things that pop up there. It's unlike any other urban space I've ever been to; the closest approximation I've seen is DC's Dupont Circle. In both places there are musicians, chess players, break dancers, and sunbathers. But Morris dancers? Mummers? Star Wars characters?

The Star Wars characters showed up months ago, part of some sort of promotion for the Franklin Institute's exhibition on the movies. I was rather surprised to come across Darth Vader on my way to pick up lunch.

This photo from the group's website shows a wedding party in the same spot I saw them perform. They apparently don't wear their fish masks for these events, but they do in the parade.

A few weeks ago, the mummers appeared. Mummers are a Philadelphia institution, parading through the city on New Year's Day since 1901. Apparently they also perform the rest of the year at special events. The costumes are elaborate--the group of mummers I saw leading a wedding party into Rittenhouse Square were dressed as fish, with flounces of scales in bright colors covering them from head to toe. They appear to have been the string band (which is Mummer terminology for brass band) Aqua. Aqua started in 1920 and has never missed a year in the parade.

I'd heard of mummers before, but the Morris dancers I saw this weekend were new to me. This folk dance actually started in England soon after mumming (which really just means performing in disguise) in the 15th century. The dancers combine rhythmic stepping with wielding sticks that they cross like swords or tap on the ground to the tune of music. The outfits look more like what I'd imagine Austrian or Swiss folk dancers might wear. Several local groups gathered at Rittenhouse Square to perform for the afternoon to start off their summer tours and a ring of onlookers gathered. Here's a video of what the dancing looks like.

As the weather finally gets warmer, I'm looking forward to seeing who else shows up in the square this summer!

Heading to Headhouse Square

The Library of Congress's undated file photo of the Headhouse

I had read a blog post about how great the Headhouse Square farmer's market was and I decided to check it out today. I had walked through the square for the first time earlier this week on my way to dinner at one of the country's top vegan restaurants, Horizons (which I really enjoyed--I need to figure out how to make pan-seared tofu!). After having brunch on South Street today, I walked all the way down to Society Hall to the market. Once I got to around 7th, it felt like walking through a beach town--a visual overload of signs, lots of cheap clothing shops, and a variety of delicious junk food options.

Then, suddenly, South Street opens up at 2nd st into Headhouse Square. Located a block from the Delaware River, the market there opened in 1745 to supplement the existing market on Market Street. "Headhouse" refers to the firehouse structure at one end of the market which was built in 1804. In the late eighteenth century, supposedly Dolley Madison and Martha Washington shopped here.

The market finally reopened there last summer, and it's one of the best I've seen--and I've checked out my fair share of markets. There's still cobblestone on the street and it does feel a bit like going back in time. Let's hope there was fudge as good as what I bought yesterday when the founding mothers went shopping there!

Philly Transit in a Perfect World

When I first moved to Philly, I wrote a post complaining of the ridiculously bad public transit here. Ever since, I've been thinking about places I wish had their own subway stops. Seeing this map of the possible future of the DC metro spurred me to create my own map of my dream subway system for Center City (click on the link to the larger map so you can click on each line and read the blurbs).




View Larger Map

This is obviously quite unscientific--I have no idea where the real demand is. I am certain, however, that it's not on either of the existing lines. The buses have to pick up the slack and, based on how crowded they are at off hours, I don't even want to know how bad they are at rush hour. Since the lines already meet at Broad and Market, I figured it would make sense for the other lines to interest there to make transfers easier.

This dream map also would make it a lot easier for tourists to get around by connecting the Independence Mall area to the art museum. And it might seem silly to have a line so close to the Market st. line, but Walnut is really where things are happening in both West Philly and Center City. An express bus, at the very least, would be a huge help.

A few other highlights: that tourist-friendly red line would go to the Italian Market and end up at the big box stores, including the Super Fresh and Target. Frankly, I think getting a DC metro stop in Georgetown, pipe dream as that has always been, is a whole lot more likely than any of these changes happening in Philly.

Pennsylvania Holds a Primary

After working on the Kerry campaign, I swore I wouldn't work on another campaign again. Well, it's the next campaign cycle and I've already broken that promise to myself. Despite the e-mails piling up asking me to volunteer for Obama the past two months, I waited until yesterday to help out. So for this election day, at least, I didn't feel the emotional charge that builds up from investing so much of your time in a campaign.

What I did get to feel, though, was this amazing connection (in grad school speak, an "imagined community," perhaps?) with everybody I saw on the street who was also wearing Obama pins or shirts. Philly was overwhelmingly behind Obama, so everywhere I walked there were people behind the same cause I was fighting for. I didn't talk to most of these people; it was mostly just a smile of acknowledgement that passed between us.

Campaign headquarters in Philly the past two days were full of supporters from up and down the mid-Atlantic. People seem to have just driven in to Philly and come straight to the headquarters to see what they could do. I helped one of these people, a woman who had taken the day off of work in D.C., to navigate around Center City and drive elderly people to the polls. I also went door to door earlier in the day, which I must admit, I wouldn't offer to do again.

Even though Obama didn't win today--and really, I don't think anybody expected he would in PA--the day felt like a success for me in other ways. First, with all of the research I've done on politics in Early America, I appreciate the chance to see the process firsthand. Second, I felt in these past two days that, for the first time since I moved here, I actually live in Philly and that I'm part of a community here--one even larger than the campaign. That feeling was well worth losing my voice and getting behind on schoolwork.

Visit with an eccentric millionaire

If you were a gentleman in the early 20th century who inherited a fortune, what would you do? Perhaps build a castle out of hand-mixed concrete and hand-painted tiles? Or create a museum about early American tools? These were the rather bizarre ways Henry Mercer of Bucks County, PA chose to spend his money and free time.


A few friends and I drove out to Doylestown to see Mercer's house and museum. We were absolutely overwhelmed by how quirky this guy must have been. He started a tileworks and collected tiles from around the world, many of which he built into the walls of the concrete castle he designed and built. There were cuneiform tablets from ancient Iraq embedded into one concrete column and Chinese ceiling tiles from centuries ago overhanging a stairway. There were no hallways, just one strange little room leading to the next.

Along with tiles, Mercer was also obsessed with tools. He had a broad definition of what a "tool" was and had a whole taxonomy of classifying tools. The museum, with 6 stories winding around a massive central atrium, is organized around this system. There are tools for butter churning, tools of transportation--hence the boats and carriages suspended from the rafters--tools for heating, and tools for punishment, to name a few. That last category included a room which you enter only to find yourself underneath a gallows.


In some ways, it's a curator's dream--a collection already organized and catalogued. Mercer kept meticulous records of each of his objects, even (unfortunately) writing the number he assigned the object on the object itself. But more than a museum, the place feels like an attic full of treasures.

Bye Bye WaWa

My roommate received a call at 11 last night that there was a crowd gathering outside our local WaWa to protest its closing. Curious, we walked over and found people holding signs and roaming the empty aisles of the store. As employees were taking down signs, people were excitedly grabbing them as souvenirs. It was not really, then, an angry protest--it was more like a going away party for an old friend who was leaving too soon.

Snow day

We've finally had our first snow day in Philadelphia...this little guy seems to have a snowball stuck to his tail!

A visit to the opera

Last night I went to see my first opera, Cyrano. The Philadelphia Opera Company is putting on an original adaptation of the famous French play, based on the life of a Frenchman named Cyrano de Bergerac. I apparently can't escape my historical work, because as it turned out, the program had an entire section on a topic I've read a bit about recently--French salon culture. The heroine, Roxane, represents the literate and intellectual women of the salons who expected men to woo them with eloquent writing and wit. My favorite scene was when her lover is trying to win her over and declares several times, "I love you!" to which she responds "Oh! without a doubt!--and then?..."

These lines, of course, were all sung in French and in the curious trilling of opera. I must admit, I've avoided opera in the past because I'm not a fan of the singing style, and I haven't been won over yet. But there is something amusing about seeing mundane conversation sung melodramatically by people in fantastic costumes. And the price couldn't be beat--$5 for ampitheatre seats, from which I could almost touch the beautiful ceiling of the oldest grand opera building in the country.

Buying indie, eating locally

I was just reading the beginning of Bill Bryson's nostalgic new biography, and he reminisces about "the glory of living in a world still free of global chains. Every community was special and nowhere was like everywhere else." I hope Bryson got to walk around the city a bit when he was here last month to give a talk (his voice, fyi, is suprisingly high), because a bit of that glory remains.

Today I had wonderful food, and I didn't have to enter a single chain store. Nor did I have to go out of my way. I picked up a chunk of pecorino fresca and a loaf of ciabatta at the market a few blocks away, fresh tomatoes a block from there, and went home to make a sandwich. On my way to campus I grabbed a chai latte at an indepedent coffee shop/art gallery. Then, for dinner, I ate at White Dog Cafe, a restaurant that specializes in locally produced goods, with a group of alums from my high school.

As I've mentioned in an earlier post, Slow Food is a big deal lately, and Philly is a great place for it. There's a group here that helps people find locally-grown food, plus a website with a similar purpose called Farm to Philly. There also seem to be farmer's markets all the time, including one on campus.

I've also found it pretty easy to find independent places (more likely to have local products, and better for the community to begin with) here; they predominate in my neighborhood. It's not the 1950s, but hey, I'm quite happy to have a Trader Joe's near by, too.