And the Beat Goes On

So you know we left Texas. And we came back to Philly. After an absence of 46 years, more or less. A few impressions, fair or not.

We finally took an extended trip into the city, to Port Richmond, an historically Polish neighborhood, which we reached via West Philly. We were going to Czerw’s Polish Kielbasa, reputedly “the best in the city.” It is this hole-in-the-wall place on a barely passable side street where a gregarious local encouraged us to park on the sidewalk. Linda went in and was attended by a young Polish guy. And yeah, the kielbasa, which I cooked tonight, was out of sight. It is, more or less the first real meal we have cooked here. Fancy that: the Italian eats kielbasa in Paoli. You’re supposed drink Gibbons Beer from Wilkes Barre PA with, but I had some Clos de Bois cab. So the Scranton PA experience it was not, I fear, but it was damn good anyway. Tomorrow we’re gonna have pierogi, which I will wash down with Cape May IPA. If you aren’t jealous, you should be. It’s also damn good beer.

Now, I really didn’t come back here just to eat and drink. I wanted to see for myself what a half century of progress has done for (or to) The City of Brotherly Love. And there I gotta say I wasn’t expecting much. I wasn’t disappointed. Philly was a mess when we left. It is is even more or a mess now. Why?

Well, let’s start with the obvious. In the 1980s, the poverty rate was about 20 percent. In 2015 the rate hit 28.4 percent . In the last few years, the rate has fallen back to what it was when we left. So having hit a terrible peak, poverty here has regressed to its miserable customary mean. A half-century of no progress. Not exactly chamber of commerce tourism material.

Why the Hell Philly is so poor is a combination of bad policy and bad luck. The bad policy is a tax on employment; redlining large residential areas; and the migration of manufacturing to places where labor was cheaper but equally productive. The bad luck was the result of reconfiguring patterns of mobility via the Schuyllkill Expressway to effectively shunt the city’s middle class into the suburbs, something Mayor Dick Dilworth called “the white noose.” Educated workers fled and their jobs went with them. Oh yeah, being the target of Republican yoyos from the middle of nowhere resident in Harrisburgh–the Capital of the Keystone State–shaped a resolutely antiurban policy bias that wreaked havoc on funding for public transportation, a higher minimum wage, and on and on. The collapse of public education in Philly did the rest, especially now that you need more than a strong back for a good job. A perfect storm.

But weirdly, the Philly pattern in uneven. Some formerly terrible neighborhoods–or just ordinary ones–are gentrifying, and you can see young urban homesteaders striding across streets like Girard Avenue as if they owned the place. Believe it or not, no one belongs on Girard Avenue, especially right above the Philadelphia Zoo, where the cages probably protect the animals from the residents. And some formerly streetcar suburbs like Bywood, Darby, and Sharon Hill are clearly headed in a different direction, driven by the same spillover from gentrification that makes longtime residents apoplectic. It is not a good formula for community relations, so, surprise, a ride into some parts of Philly is apt to show a rather high cop-to-civilian ratio. I was astonished at the number of cop cars around Kensington, an old industrial district which appears to be both gentrifying and falling apart at once. Don’t ask me. Cool new nightspots accompanied druggies sprawled around the intersection of what is called K&A. You think this stuff about growing inequality is really a myth? God. It’s all I could think about. I’m not saying Philly is unique, but it’s what I know, and certainly not what I remember from my childhood and adolescence.

But wait. There’s more. I didn’t just venture into the infamous Badlands. I also paid a visit to my former undergraduate institution, the “Catholic Ivy,” Villanova, alma mater of Pope Bob. Talk about a different feel. I’m not sure where to start, because it’s changed as much as I’ve changed. A lot.

I graduated in 1973. The President of Nova was an Auggie named McCarthy. He had “a narrow vision” as they say of him in the Order. That means he was an asshole who hated gays, women, liberals, longhairs, Commies, intellectuals–Hell, everyone. He was a nasty piece of work and alienated my class–’73 is notorious for not giving to Vanillanova, although maybe Pope Bob will loosen a few purse strings (I doubt it). Any event, it was us against them, and we had priests with nicknames like Flyshit, which sort of tells you about how beloved some of them were. Nova is R2 D1–no dummy, not Star Wars, but academic/athletic classification. The posted tuition and fees are about 65,000 per year, fwiw. When I attended, tuition was $1600 per year. Not per week. Per two semester year.

If that doesn’t tell you something about how Nova has changed, I don’t know what will. My God, the place used to reek of nicotine and cheese steaks. Now it reeks of money. And so do the students. My daughter, who did music at Rice University on the tuition-exchange plan, thinks Villanova feels a lot like Rice. Believe me, coming from her, that is not a compliment. But if you want to toss around “privilege” ga’head (Philly-speak for “Go ahead.”) It’s obviously like wooder (water) off a Wildcat’s back (their fierce mascot) to them. A lot of the students–especially the women–look like something out of central casting for “The Breakfast Club” or “Pretty in Pink.” Ya’know, Westwood East. In my day, a lot of us still looked like the relief crew for Jersey Turnpike maintenance, or maybe the top track at Bonner or Prendie. Uh uh. Them days are gone, obviously lost to rising costs.

And the campus, Good Lord. The Villanova of my era was sort of like Gaul: divided into three parts. The main campus; the law school and seminary; and Good Counsel Hall, which was put up to accommodate the newly-admitted female population. Now, forget it. Not only is the place sprawling along Route 30 almost down to Radnor. A bunch of faux Gothic buildings sits where the commuter parking lots once broiled in the sun. Now Villanova has acquired Cabrini College in Radnor and Rosemont College, other lesser Cathlicks. I have no idea what Villanova plans to do with them. The powers that be at Villanova apparently don’t either. It won’t become VillaRoCa, because those colleges have been acquired out of existence–I think. It’s sort of like Villanova versus the Main Line, and Nova is winning. Wildcat world is growing by leaps and bounds. And the main campus is getting a new library building, courtesy of Vic Magritti, ’56, a construction magnate who laid 20 million bucks on them for the another library that doesn’t want books. Somebody has got big plans for the place–and that was before Nova claimed the Papacy.

Did anyone say Notre Dame or Georgetown? Obviously, that’s the objective, no? They want the kids at Notre Dame and Georgetown to wear Villanova gear as a mark of aspirational status. In my day, it was the other way around. Kids at VU wore Fighting Irish or Hoya merch. Times do change. Big crosses now subtend Route 30, much to the annoyance of the woke locals who thought they bought bigot rights when they got their little piece of Heaven in the neighborhood (no pun intended). Sorry. You get the whole program now, and probably a new football stadium on some sunny future day. Hey, what matters?

I was in a Philosophy class taught by the brilliant Jack Caputo in which Bill Atkinson (Fr. Bill to you), now on the fast track to sainthood, led off the class roll. Now you’re as likely to sit next to a basketball player who is the first NIL millionaire. Seriously. This is Trump’s America, in case you haven’t noticed. The BMW has replaced the VW as Chester County’s preferred mode of upper middle class transport. It’s all too much for me, clearly

Remember “And the Beat Goes on?” The Boomers’ “Moonlight Serenade.”

La di da de de. La di da de da. The message is the same.

And bye bye Country Joe. Just when we need you the most…….

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