The Ghost of Broad Street

The guard chaperones you to the principal’s office. You’ve taken similar walks before. On the outer office wall are posted the Top 10 Safety Tips. Number 8 is: “Avoid bringing large sums of money to school.” They have to tell smart girls this? Number 10 states flatly: “Students are not allowed to leave campus during the school day.”

Too bad. Right down the street they could load up on curried goat and braised oxtail at the Golden Krust Bakery & Grill, where all the “Reggaefest Combos” come with rice, peas and a Pepsi. Arline Amoroso grew up on pasta and Old World Italians in South Philly. Now she is teaching advanced Italian to a class of eight girls: one Asian, two African-Americans, three Caucasians, and two girls of mixed and indecipherable origins. Halfway through class, Ms. Amoroso shushes a girl who has been chattering constantly. The girl yells back, “You shush!”

“Quante persone ci sono nella tua famiglia?” asks Ms. Amoroso.

“Cento,” answers the girl.

“Quante persone ci sono nella tua famiglia?” repeats Ms. Amoroso slowly.

“Cent-o,” repeats the girl slowly.

“Cento means a hundred,” shouts another student.

“I know that,” snaps the ace student. “I got a big family, yo!”

“Mamma mia,” says the teacher.

At Duncannon Avenue, Our Lady of Hope Roman Catholic Church holds mass at 10:30 every Sunday in Spanish. I wish I remembered my second language.

Hanging from a railroad bridge above Tioga is a banner with an important announcement: TEMPLE UNIVERSITY — 1 3/4 MILES AHEAD. It is more for your central nervous system than your cartological concerns, for you are entering the heart of darkness, the North Philly of squalid buildings and vacant eyes, and the mere mention of Temple University is meant to pacify.

“You will miss the three C’s,” my brother had warned. “Cops, cabs and Caucasians.” In our salad days, we used to cruise this part of Broad Street to pick up inexpensive tomatoes — farm-ripened, heirloom or hothouse. They would negotiate their price at the car window and wait for you to open their door; even for ladies of the night, you had to be a gentleman. It was always interracial, and the better for it.

Have things changed that much? Should I worry? Broad Street has always been a green zone, where passage is permitted because everyone is just passing through, on their way to elsewhere, shielded by the steady traffic. Oly-oly-in-free.