The Great Days of John Street

As his first public act of 2005, Mayor John F. Street decided to go to prison. Since he was inaugurated in 2000, Street has spent every New Year’s Day ministering to prisoners at the city’s penitentiary complex in Northeast Philadelphia. A few minutes past 9 a.m., he stood on the sidewalk outside a North Philadelphia shopping center one block west of his home. His glasses hung around his neck like a librarian’s, and a mess of hair that resembles a sagebrush shot in monochrome framed his angular face. A pencil-thin mustache hugged his upper lip, a soul patch sat below his lower one, sharp hairs protruded from his earlobes, and deep creases ran through his cheeks. “We are going to the prisons today to tell them there is a loving, kind and generous God that will help them through their problems if they only trust and obey,” Street told members of the clergy who were to join him. “I’m having a great day,” he added. “Every day is a great day.”

While philosophers and meteorologists may quibble about the universal accuracy of that statement, no one can dispute that every day, John Street says it’s a great day. Since his reelection a year and a half ago, the Mayor has trudged through a devastating political calendar. City Council, which Street dominated as its president, has become a gruesome arena for his agenda. The attention of the city’s political community seems fully fixed on who Street’s successor will be, with his friends, allies and employees already picking sides. Meanwhile, the U.S. Attorney is actively investigating corruption in the Mayor’s office, and two months ago kicked off a high-profile trial over which Street’s character — and the attendant question of whether his administration’s way of doing business is illegal or merely distasteful — hovered daily.

But the Mayor’s trademark greeting never disappeared, and he seems to take particular pleasure in delivering it on bad days. When he held a press conference immediately after Ron White, his friend and fund-raiser, was indicted along with city treasurer Corey Kemp and 10 others on corruption-related charges, Street said, “I’m having a great day.” He often begins with another lighthearted mantra — “I’ll be brief, no matter how long it takes” — but the “great day” line isn’t just a crowd-softener. Because Street is so personally guarded, “I’m having a great day” serves as a tease, a provocation — like the Afro and the thrown punches he brought to his early days on City Council. These days, for Street, simple optimism is an act of defiance.

Half an hour later, Street entered the Philadelphia House of Corrections in a bouncy, broad-shouldered stride. About 75 prisoners were gathered in a gym, seated in rows of foldout chairs, and the Mayor stood at the front of the room, with a microphone.

“Are you having a good day?” he asked, his voice echoing sepulchrally through the gym. The question was met with silence.