Philadelphia [antikvár]

CHANGE? PAROCHIAL OLD PHILADELPHIA? Who would have thought that after three centuries of mostly minding its own business, the hard-working industrial city of narrow streets, grimy factories, and quaint colonial buildings would be transformed almost overnight into one of America's most dynamic and appealing tourist destinations? Anyone who had visited the nation's birthplace fifteen years ago, perhaps to see Independence Hall or Valley Forge, and had not returned until now would hardly recognize it. Invigorated by a sleek new skyline and revitalized waterfront, an exploding arts scene, and a profusion of incredible restaurants, clubs and sporting events, Philadelphia has shed its inferiority complex and blossomed into the Paris of America. And why not? Its tree-lined, flag-festooned Benjamin Franklin Parkway, connecting City Hall with the Philadelphia Museum of Artwith the Rodin Museum and one of seven copies of Rodin's famous The Thinker statue midway at Logan Circlewas designed by French landscape architect Jacques Greber with the Champs Elysees in mind. In the mid-1990s, the city of William Penn, Benjamin Franklin, and John James Audubon enhanced its historic core, dressed up its verdant squares and parksincluding the largest landscaped municipal park in the nationremodeled picturesque train stations and marketplaces, and turned the boundless energy of a man whom media everywhere dubbed "America's mayor" into a tidal wave of optimism and physical renewal.Although the birthplace of the United States of America grew to become the nation's greatest manufacturing center, Philadelphia was often overlooked in the roll call of great American cities. Part of the reason was its proximity to New York, less than one hundred miles away. New York had a bigger harbor right on the ocean, soaring skyscrapersat a time when a gentleman's agreement kept Philadelphia buildings lower than "Billy Penn's hat" atop City Halland most important, the world's most ambitious publicity and media machines. Television networks covered Philadelphia out of New York or Washington, and even Philly's own newspapers often ignored positive local developments unless they had first been reported in the New York Times. Cities like New Orleans, Seattle, and Memphiseach a fraction the size of Philadelphia but blessed by being the dominant city of a regionpromoted their charms, got individualized media attention, and raked in tourists and their dollars. Boston, with one-third Philadelphia's population and no greater historic heritage or grander city parks, could hardly handle the crowds, while Philadelphia contented itself making locomotives, lace, and lasagna. Tourists stopped in Philadelphia, of course, just long enough to visit Independence Hall. But they rarely stayed. There was too much to see and do in New York, Baltimore, Washington, and the Pennsylvania Dutch country. Philadelphia hotels were stopovers for traveling business and sales people, and survived only by hosting weddings, graduation dances, and other local events.But Philadelphia had more than the curse of proximity to New York and other Northeast tourist centers to blame for its introversion. It was "the Quaker City," after all, the "greene Countrie Towne" founded by William Penn. Even though this heritage was mostly a historical curiosity by the 1900s, self-effacing Quaker attitudes, such as frowning on ostentation and self-promotion, endured. No one should stand out, so Philadelphia did not try. Penn named his New World city "Philadelphia"Greek for "City of Brotherly Love"but its latter-day reputation as a gruff, blue-collar town, a place where even Santa Claus was once booed unmercifully at an Eagles' football game, held it back. Word of the city's incredible educational resources or cultural diversity did not always spread beyond the Delaware River. "We arrivedBenjamin West's Benjamin Franklin Drawing Electricity from the Sky hangs at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The inventive "Dr. Franklin," as he was known around town, experimented with lightning in his quest to better fireproof buildings. This "humble printer," as he called himself published Poor Richard's Almanack imder the pseudonym "Richard Saunders."