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This Issue 11/01/2001

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• Streetscenes: Music Man

Vicious words spew into the street outside the 7-Eleven opposite the Drexel
University campus. Two groups form, spectators surround; a car peels out,
attempting escape. I watch from a comfortable distance as a skateboard is
launched toward the escaping automobile. Break lights flash as a man emerges
from the car holding a bat. Drexel security slides into the midst of the turmoil.
Soon a Penn cop drives up, another follows, a Philly squad car arrives and
another follows. The street fills with red and blue light. Suddenly the bat swings
into action, slamming down on the front windshield of the now idle car. Two girls
scurry out of the front seat, startled, shaking, reeling from the attack. People are
handcuffed and stuffed into police cars. The commotion is quelled and the
audience eventually moves on.

Another day, a similar time, and only a block away, a small food truck waits on
the curb across from Drexel's fraternity row. The generator grinds noisily as a
line begins to form. Two tables sit next to the truck, filled with people enjoying
conversation and quesadillas, the latter smothered in homemade salsa and
sour cream. In a circle, bike police discuss politics over burritos. A girl dressed to
party passes the truck. "Taco Lou! Taco Lou!" she exclaims as she moves
toward the frat houses. A man--thick sideburns, beard and leather jacket--rides a
1979 Vespa scooter onto the sidewalk. Showing off his ride, he pries off the tire
cover, pointing at the spare, single cylinder engine and the glove box. "It doesn't
come close to making emissions," he brags, causing an eruption of laughter
from sidewalk admirers.

And just like that, the small-town barber shop and big-city caf‚ manifest
themselves in a West Philly food truck. In the center of this sidewalk salon
stands a relatively short, 53-year-old black man with soft features and a smile
that is naturally poised upon his face. On his head rests a black cowboy hat,
encircling his brow under street lamps' glow. Within these 10 concrete slabs of
city sidewalk, Louis Williams, known fondly as Taco Lou, orchestrates the
environment before his food truck with every greeting, handshake and taco.

In 1948 Louis Williams was born near Durham, N.C. He lived there for 16 years
before moving to Philadelphia to join other family members, including his
brother, who had moved north years earlier. Growing up in the south taught him
that his future prospects were limited. "I wasn't taught that I could become
anything," Lou recalls. "The only thing I thought you could be was a mailman, a
truck driver, a school teacher." And yet in his 53rd year, Lou, by most standards,
has not achieved much more than his childhood teachings foretold. He operates
a late-night food truck, serves as a cook at a Drexel fraternity and runs a catering
service. But despite the hardships of his daily toil he engages his work with his
own liberating beliefs.