The Secret Lives of Wasps

From late icon Bobby Scott to present-day Biddles and Pews, Philadelphia’s elite families share — in their own words — the well-bred secrets of privilege, high stone walls, turtle soup, martinis and, believe it or not, “poontang”

Wasp life, 2005:

William Baltzell: At the Philadelphia Club, we have Jewish members and black members. The only criterion is that you are companionable with the other members.

Glenn Edgar Pew: The Rittenhouse Club, the Locust Club — they’re gone. We don’t have those groups as much. When someone says Wasp, when someone struts around because of something someone did 200 years ago, no one’s going to take that seriously. I don’t define my gig by Wasp. I’m not anti it, but it’s an interesting anecdotal thing.

Bob Scott: It’s wonderful: The house is here, and the furniture is here. I have lived here with seven generations of my family, I have seven grandchildren. Our family Thanksgiving dinner is held the day after Thanksgiving for two reasons: There are no football games, and Jimmy Duffy the caterer doesn’t work on Thanksgiving. Last year, we seated 98. The oldest person was 86 and the youngest was three, and each had their own seat.

When I was growing up, 16 people sat down in the servants’ dining room for lunch. There were three chauffeurs, three footmen, one butler, various scullery maids, all gone. It was a little bit Upstairs, Downstairs, but those days are gone; it was lovely to have seen them, and I don’t miss them.

It’s changed. Not too radically. In fact, as change goes, it’s quite minor. I don’t solicit change. Why should I? I live such a privileged life as it is.

E-mail: adkorman@phillymag.com