25 Places You Never Been To In Philly
#15 of a series in which the author attempts to recollect long lost places in this haunted east coast city.
47th and Chester – gentle slopes and severe pedestrians.
For a number of years I daily encountered this intersection. It manages to be sleepy and lively all at once. The 13 trolley stops here on its way up and down Chester Avenue. Mostly residential in nature, the intersection does feature a little grocery on the southwest corner. And down on 47th there is a beer and hoagie shop. I would recommend avoiding the hoagie there actually. Go for the cheese-steak with Whizz, grilled onions and ketchup. Wash it down with a Lord Chesterfield's Ale. A local brew that packs a punch and is served in carelessly rewashed bottles.
The intersection slopes down towards the northeast. It bisects an old Victorian neighborhood, one of the city's first suburbs. Late 19th century houses abound in all four directions. Even the grocery store is built into a Victorian three flat. Somebody stuck a jutting brick box off the first floor. Into which one now can enter and acquire lottery tickets, chicken parts and snack food.
When I first moved into the 'hood the grocery was run by a family of tall Jews. They still considered it a real grocery store, complete with carts and multi checkout lines. Not that they ever needed more than one register open. The brother who was always there would dutifully open another register if I was trapped behind a doddering neighborhood urchin.
The store sits on the southwest corner. In front of the store is the eastbound trolley stop. Yes, the trolleys are aesthetically pleasing. Impressive steel boxes strung on a wire. But something about riding them always made me nauseous. I think it is because they are so heavy, the lurching and halting made me want to puke. Once, while on the trolley and eavesdropping on a cute girl, I heard her say the exact same thing. Riding the trolley made her sick.
But they are air-conditioned crisply in the summertime. It gets very hot in Philly in the summer. The sun pounds you into goo on the blinding sidewalk. Luckily there are a number of shady trees in and around this intersection. I would recommend the northwest corner as the intersection's best to escape the summer sun.
Back to the store. After a couple years the Jews sold the grocery to this couple. She was Korean, he was a Vietnam Veteran. They yelled at each other and treated the store like it was their living room. She had a daughter who went to Penn. I foolishly told the Korean mother I went there. The next four years every time I walked in she regaled me with stories of how expensive it was, how her daughter was doing there and other items of information only a mother would care about.
I would walk in there after work – buy dinner, cigarettes and the Daily News. A typical visit usually included the owners yelling at each other. There was always a line of neighborhood people slumped at a register enclosed behind bulletproof glass. The neighborhood was an odd-lot mix. There were regular people, ghetto urchins and a sprinkling of alterna-freaks. Do not forget a few old people who would always clog the aisles. I always took a hard left upon entering the store, used the far aisle. There is a better chance of avoiding slow moving neighborhood detritus over here.
But let us get out of the store. The fluorescent lights and domestic strife are a bit much for the senses. On the northeast side of the street is a 4-story apartment building. I would guess it is from the early 1920's, perhaps earlier. It is Section-8 friendly. There was always entertainment to be found in the windows. Figures lurking, old men staring, women yelling, kids screaming, music blaring and curtains mysteriously closing.
I once knew a woman who lived in there. She was beautiful. Maybe the hottest thing in the neighborhood. And she had two kids. I used to go visit her, run up those stairs, hoping I did not bump into any Section-8 hoodlums. In her overheated apartment she would lay it on me like I will never forget. Simply scrumptious. God bless her is all I can say. And bless the Royal Arms or whatever silly name they call that apartment building. (If you can find the building's superintendent he will tell a few extremely offensive jokes.)
Across the street on the southeast corner is a Victorian house with a big porch. It housed a variety of renters over the years. At first there was a real messy but quiet family who had all this junk on the porch. Then they moved out and in came some country folks who did nothing but get loud and drunk on the porch every day. They got rid of them and put in a group of grungy looking alternative freaks. This did not last long either.
Crossing the street again, in front of the store, we return to the eastbound trolley stop. I have waited here on many occasions. This will take you down to 30th Street Station and Center City. It gets a little sketchy at the trolley stop, but the intersection never stays empty for too long. Plenty of locals skulking about. Every morning I would wait here with the same group to go to work. There would always be a trolley up the hill arriving and one down the hill departing during the morning rush hour. But like I said, the trolley is great in concept, nauseating in reality. It was the main reason I bought a car. A beloved Ford Thunderbird. The right car for Philadelphia.
I drove through the intersection almost as much as walked through it. Drivers should watch out for the trolley tracks, slippery when wet. If you are driving through the intersection you have four choices. East is toward Center City and the old, colonial part of the city. South and especially southwest puts you in the industrial/projects/crazy white people part of the city. Straight west it gets pretty rough. 52nd Street is crazy. This is where aspiring gangster rappers try and earn their street cred. Traveling north is a bit more sedate. There are handsome old houses and many freaks who live in them.
I would be remiss if I did not mention the University of the Sciences directly southeast of the intersection. This is a little city college that can. Every school year a few groups of 'Philly Pharm' students rent houses around 47th and Chester. I always considered these kids to be some of the hardiest students anywhere.
But let us move on down Chester Avenue eastbound, past the park and the VA hospital…
##^^##
47th and Chester – gentle slopes and severe pedestrians.
For a number of years I daily encountered this intersection. It manages to be sleepy and lively all at once. The 13 trolley stops here on its way up and down Chester Avenue. Mostly residential in nature, the intersection does feature a little grocery on the southwest corner. And down on 47th there is a beer and hoagie shop. I would recommend avoiding the hoagie there actually. Go for the cheese-steak with Whizz, grilled onions and ketchup. Wash it down with a Lord Chesterfield's Ale. A local brew that packs a punch and is served in carelessly rewashed bottles.
The intersection slopes down towards the northeast. It bisects an old Victorian neighborhood, one of the city's first suburbs. Late 19th century houses abound in all four directions. Even the grocery store is built into a Victorian three flat. Somebody stuck a jutting brick box off the first floor. Into which one now can enter and acquire lottery tickets, chicken parts and snack food.
When I first moved into the 'hood the grocery was run by a family of tall Jews. They still considered it a real grocery store, complete with carts and multi checkout lines. Not that they ever needed more than one register open. The brother who was always there would dutifully open another register if I was trapped behind a doddering neighborhood urchin.
The store sits on the southwest corner. In front of the store is the eastbound trolley stop. Yes, the trolleys are aesthetically pleasing. Impressive steel boxes strung on a wire. But something about riding them always made me nauseous. I think it is because they are so heavy, the lurching and halting made me want to puke. Once, while on the trolley and eavesdropping on a cute girl, I heard her say the exact same thing. Riding the trolley made her sick.
But they are air-conditioned crisply in the summertime. It gets very hot in Philly in the summer. The sun pounds you into goo on the blinding sidewalk. Luckily there are a number of shady trees in and around this intersection. I would recommend the northwest corner as the intersection's best to escape the summer sun.
Back to the store. After a couple years the Jews sold the grocery to this couple. She was Korean, he was a Vietnam Veteran. They yelled at each other and treated the store like it was their living room. She had a daughter who went to Penn. I foolishly told the Korean mother I went there. The next four years every time I walked in she regaled me with stories of how expensive it was, how her daughter was doing there and other items of information only a mother would care about.
I would walk in there after work – buy dinner, cigarettes and the Daily News. A typical visit usually included the owners yelling at each other. There was always a line of neighborhood people slumped at a register enclosed behind bulletproof glass. The neighborhood was an odd-lot mix. There were regular people, ghetto urchins and a sprinkling of alterna-freaks. Do not forget a few old people who would always clog the aisles. I always took a hard left upon entering the store, used the far aisle. There is a better chance of avoiding slow moving neighborhood detritus over here.
But let us get out of the store. The fluorescent lights and domestic strife are a bit much for the senses. On the northeast side of the street is a 4-story apartment building. I would guess it is from the early 1920's, perhaps earlier. It is Section-8 friendly. There was always entertainment to be found in the windows. Figures lurking, old men staring, women yelling, kids screaming, music blaring and curtains mysteriously closing.
I once knew a woman who lived in there. She was beautiful. Maybe the hottest thing in the neighborhood. And she had two kids. I used to go visit her, run up those stairs, hoping I did not bump into any Section-8 hoodlums. In her overheated apartment she would lay it on me like I will never forget. Simply scrumptious. God bless her is all I can say. And bless the Royal Arms or whatever silly name they call that apartment building. (If you can find the building's superintendent he will tell a few extremely offensive jokes.)
Across the street on the southeast corner is a Victorian house with a big porch. It housed a variety of renters over the years. At first there was a real messy but quiet family who had all this junk on the porch. Then they moved out and in came some country folks who did nothing but get loud and drunk on the porch every day. They got rid of them and put in a group of grungy looking alternative freaks. This did not last long either.
Crossing the street again, in front of the store, we return to the eastbound trolley stop. I have waited here on many occasions. This will take you down to 30th Street Station and Center City. It gets a little sketchy at the trolley stop, but the intersection never stays empty for too long. Plenty of locals skulking about. Every morning I would wait here with the same group to go to work. There would always be a trolley up the hill arriving and one down the hill departing during the morning rush hour. But like I said, the trolley is great in concept, nauseating in reality. It was the main reason I bought a car. A beloved Ford Thunderbird. The right car for Philadelphia.
I drove through the intersection almost as much as walked through it. Drivers should watch out for the trolley tracks, slippery when wet. If you are driving through the intersection you have four choices. East is toward Center City and the old, colonial part of the city. South and especially southwest puts you in the industrial/projects/crazy white people part of the city. Straight west it gets pretty rough. 52nd Street is crazy. This is where aspiring gangster rappers try and earn their street cred. Traveling north is a bit more sedate. There are handsome old houses and many freaks who live in them.
I would be remiss if I did not mention the University of the Sciences directly southeast of the intersection. This is a little city college that can. Every school year a few groups of 'Philly Pharm' students rent houses around 47th and Chester. I always considered these kids to be some of the hardiest students anywhere.
But let us move on down Chester Avenue eastbound, past the park and the VA hospital…
##^^##
posted by RSS Spirit Combine | 5:21 PM
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