The sports complex at Pattison, the last stop going south on the Orange line, is a sort of municipal preserve, its chief resources being the worn pavement and concrete that make up its wonderland of sports shrines and parking lots. The resource pool has expanded to glass and brick recently with the construction of new stadiums and arenas. Since 1996, three new stadiums and arenas have opened: the Wachovia Center for the NHL's Flyers and the NBA's 76ers, Citizens Bank Park for the MLB's Phillies and Lincoln Financial Field for the NFL's Eagles. The Wachovia Spectrum, the Center's predecessor, still stands as well.
It's easy to see all four venues from one angle; in fact, it's impossible not to.
But today the attention is focused on the Wachovia Center--it's game day for the Flyers, who are hosting the Tampa Bay Lightning for a 2 p.m. face-off. The scene outside the stadium is usual for a weekend matinee: orange and black jerseys, hats and pants swarm your field of vision. The ticket scalper's cry of "buy or sell tickets" rings across the parking lot.
Tony Dent, a semi-professional scalper in his mid-to-late 30's, has been working the Pattison parking lots for 20 years with "decent" success. Business was tough last year when the NHL season was cancelled due to a lockout. When I ask him how he got through it, he points to Citizens Bank Park, says "Phillies," and walks away.
The only people in this parking lot tailgating before the game are two guys sitting in the back of a pick-up drinking Bud Light and smoking Marlboro 100's. Eric and Eric, or "the Erics," as is their tandem's self-applied nickname, hail from Newark, Delaware. They try to make it to five or six Flyers games a year. Like other Flyers fans, the 25- and 23-year-old Erics "struggled" during the NHL lockout. But like Philly sports fans in general, whose loyalty has proven undeniable since no major sports team here has won a championship since 1983, the Erics are resilient. How did they get through the long 2004-5 winter? The answer comes in unison: "Go Phantoms," referencing the AHL's (think the poor man's NHL) Philadelphia team.
But Glen Kolanko, 26, a Flyers fan since 1987 who's waiting for his friends outside the Wachovia Center, remembers the season that wasn't more sentimentally.
"I especially missed the season during the playoffs," he says. "You get together with your family and friends and the weather's getting warmer. You can sit outside, grab a drink, fire up the barbecue, and then go inside for the game." Kolanko, who's from the suburb of Conshohocken, says "the Eagles really got me through [the season]. They were good then."
After a few minutes, Kolanko's friends show up. They join a steady stream of Flyers-faithful walking towards the arena's entrance, as the 2:00 start is only minutes away.
* * *
It's always seemed that when I cross to the north side of Market Street, I'm entering North Philadelphia. Arch Street holds with it a frontier-like, wilderness atmosphere, and by the time I reach Spring Garden I'm basically knocking on Santa's door. But the official North Philadelphia stop on the Broad Street Line is five stops above the Spring Garden stop. Fern Rock Transportation Center, my next destination, is seven blocks further. I'm going to the moon.
Fern Rock's landscape seems about as desolate as the moon's. While the Center City skyline was well within sight at Pattison, the Fern Rock stop's gentle hills obstruct any chance of that. The Transportation Center, which breaks off into the R1, R2, R3 and R5 Regional Rail Lines heading further north, is of modest size given its role as a people-moving entrep‹¨«t. The stop's modesty is matched by that of the neighborhood. Rows of small- to mid-sized homes line the area's grid. There are few shops or restaurants to speak of, save the corner convenience stores and pizza places.
But there's a lot of noise coming from the few people in this small outskirt.
Almost immediately after emerging from the station, a middle-aged, graying man with a cane accosts my photographer, asking if he's part of Sylvester Stallone's crew, as Stallone is in town shooting the latest Rocky film. Assured that the photographer is quite independent of the film industry, the man tells of how he almost fought Sly Stallone earlier, at a Dunkin' Donuts downtown. Stallone tried to move up in line, but he wouldn't have it. "I said, 'Do you want to mess with me? I'm a martial arts expert.'" Fortunately, conflict was avoided. He later went to watch Stallone on the film's set.
The man is loathe to give his last name, but settles on "it's rock and roll -- you know, like rock and roll -- and then P-O-L-L-U-S." Rockandrollpollus.
Rockandroll, 49, has been to Fern Rock a few times in order to get to know the city's outlying regions better. He launches into a diatribe about the city's power clash.
"For me," he says, "it became a battle between two groups..."
But another loud, authoritative voice rings from behind, over a megaphone.
"Give up the ways of sin!" the voice is saying.
" ... it was the Quakers and the Semites..." Rockandroll continues.
"You are here to worship the Lord!"
" ... that fight there, you can pretty much put it together..."
I tell Rockandroll that I have to leave and walk toward the fervor.
The voice in question is Sidney Arnold, 70, who has lived in Fern Rock for the better part of the last decade. For the past five years, he has preached from a dirt pedestal by the sidewalk outside of his home, beneath a sign that reads "God is Coming: Are You Ready?" He preaches on a regular schedule: from 3 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., Monday through Friday, and noon to 3 p.m. on Saturday. His face, and voice, have become something of a Fern Rock institution.
"People around here have nothing to do but entertain the devil," he tells me quietly, pulling his baseball cap down further to cover his eyes from the suddenly low sun. He believes his efforts to preach the Gospel have seen success. "People come by to thank me and say they've been delivered from their sins," he says, noting that the biggest cured vice seems to be alcoholism. "A woman came by once and told me 'instead of the six pack [of beer], I'm carrying a six pack of soda now.'" He smiles and leans back against a car.
Arnold moved to Fern Rock from Germantown, where he spent 21 years as a garbage man. He says Fern Rock's tranquility attracts many of its residents, and that its crime rate is lower than in other areas of the city.
Arnold hopes to contribute more to the community through his preaching; his long-term plan is to establish a multicultural church. He's already got the name picked out: the Last Stop.
"It's because this is the last stop on the subway, and a church is the last stop before eternity," he explains. "I'm just waiting for God to deliver the money."
* * *
The Market-Frankford Line isn't a straight circuit from west to east. The Line bends northward after the Second Street stop and elevates above ground, to Spring Garden Street and beyond, under the Ben Franklin Bridge and running vaguely parallel to I-95.
Its last stop, the Frankford Transportation Center, is something of a behemoth, unlike Fern Rock's relatively subdued terminal. Ironically, Frankford is a "dead end" in the way Fern Rock isn't -- no Regional Rail Lines leave from here. The sheer size of this station comes from its role as a gateway to the city for residents of Northeast Philadelphia and New Jersey.
Frankford is more centralized than Fern Rock. Its main streets -- Pratt Street, Bridge Street, and Frankford Avenue -- are lined with fast food places (McDonald's, Church's Chicken, and more), a Thriftway supermarket, nail salons and loan stores (America's Cash Express, Check$ Ca$hed). Beyond these, endless rows of beige and worn brick houses trail into the distance.
A popular non-chain destination is Tasty Donuts, a small bakery run by a Korean family. They sell donuts for 55 cents and most other items for fewer than two dollars.
As I'm waiting in line at Tasty Donuts, a couple of teenagers ride their bikes to the shop and give their orders to the Korean woman operating the cash register.
"She better know what I want," the older of the two shouts, "I come here every day." She gives him his donut, bottled water and a bag of barbecue chips, all for under two bucks. They walk out and shout indiscernibly in the matron's direction once more. She gives them a fiery glance and turns towards me. I place my order, and ask if she'd be willing to speak to me about the area. She gives me a stern "no" and a donut, and walks hurriedly into the kitchen.
The sun has just about set, and I watch from the Transportation Center's subway platform as "Check$ Ca$hed" erupts in a fluorescent glow.
A few minutes after I get back on the train, a sign from the side of a brick building near the track catches my eye. It reads "The Last Stop: Recovery Center."
* * *
I emerge from the last station of my trip, and an enormous, neon blue "69" is staring me straight in the face. It's reminiscent of that famous "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas" sign. This makes sense -- 69th Street, way out here in Upper Darby, is Philly's Vegas, and it's a Saturday night.
69th Street Terminal marks the western edge of the city and the suburbanite's notion of downtown. So it only makes sense that downtown would go out with a bang.
The stores along 69th Street avoid broad categorization. For every Dollar Store or Pay 4 Less, there's a chic New York & Company or formalwear shop. Upscale bars and restaurants sit next to dive taverns, cheesesteak grills and McDonald's.
Whether people are thinking upscale or casual, the sidewalks of 69th Street are packed. Few of the patrons are walking alone -- the standard is groups of 10 or 15. And if it's not to the United Artists movie theatre, they're mostly headed to the Tower Theatre.
The Tower is 69th Street's main attraction. The venue's name shoots skyward on a neon red tower, so it's hard to miss. The venue seats around 3,000 for concerts, stand-up tours and more. The institution has been parked on the corner of 69th and Ludlow since the 1920s when it was a bastion for vaudeville, and in the last 30 years it has become a live performance venue. It's hosted some of the biggest acts coming through Philadelphia, including the Rolling Stones on their Forty Licks tour in 2002 and Chris Rock on a stand-up tour in 2004.
Tonight the name that burns bright on the marquee is Ron White, the smoking, scotchaholic comedian of Blue Collar Comedy Tour fame. As a line begins to form outside the box office, a debate ensues between a few young men waiting to get their tickets.
"Do you think he'll bring out Larry the Cable Guy?" one asks.
"Larry the Cable Guy's a racist retard," another responds.
"You're a retard, you fucking retard." They get their tickets and walk inside for the early show -- there's a 7:30 p.m. and a 10:30 p.m..
I head back towards the neon "69" and the Terminal. I'm one of the few going on the eastbound train, as throngs of teenagers and twentysomethings have just gotten off the westbound train for Ron White, Big Momma's House 2 or a late night cheesesteak.
But for me, the night's last stop is 40th Street, and it's right in the middle of it all.
