The Funky Fish: How An Aging East Philly Neighborhood Became the New Hipster Mecca
By: Justin Pospieck
The factories of Fishtown are humming once again. Lofts and work spaces are providing a new lease on life for these hulking remnants of a time past. From art galleries to quirky cafes, to a museum dedicated to pizza memorabilia, a hip new epoch has dawned upon the formerly mundane working-class neighborhood of Fishtown. Young urban professionals, sometimes referred to as “yuppies” or the more modern “hipsters”, are flooding the neighborhood and staking a claim. Complementing the new blood is a stable of proud longtime residents who are pleased to see a renewed interest in their tight-knit community. The Fishtown renaissance is underway.
Near the southern tip of Frankford Avenue (the unofficial western border of the neighborhood), Pete Langway thinks he’s ahead of the curve. Langway is the Managing Director of Barcade LLC. The half-bar, half-nostalgia arcade concept originated in Brooklyn and saw its Philadelphia counterpart open in October 2010. “Fishtown reminds us of Williamsburg in Brooklyn, where my partners and I all lived when we opened up our first location in 2004.” Their decision to open another Barcade in Fishtown was helped in part by the fossilized state of the neighborhood. Comparing it to Williamsburg, Langway notes, “They’re both in transition from a primarily heavy industrial manufacturing base to a more arts and entertainment base… This means there were a lot of large warehouse spaces available, and the rents were very reasonable.”
The new boutiques and restaurants sprouting up throughout the neighborhood promote a welcoming atmosphere which attracts residents and visitors of all backgrounds. At Barcade, Pete Langway claims “Our clientele ranges from people who come for the rare vintage arcade games, to craft beer aficionados… students, service industry professionals, tech professionals, blue collar workers and artists. The age range is from 21 to 40-something.” Daniela D’Ambrosio, owner and chef at The Pickled Heron further north on Frankford Avenue, takes pride in the local aspect of her business. “The food that we are serving is our own. It is sourced from local farms and artisans like ourselves. We make the bread, the charcuterie, [cured meat products] the butter for the tables- anything that can be done from scratch, is.” The same effort put into their products also applies to the nuts-and-bolts aspect of the business. “We also did almost all of the renovations ourselves,” she says of her facility at 2218 Frankford Avenue. “I don’t know too many chefs that can say that.”
Caught in the mix of development are residents who have called the neighborhood home for decades. “The basic thing that I love [about Fishtown] is that everybody’s helpful. This is like South Philly to a degree. Everyone knows everyone.” 68-year old Richard Kruse is a Fishtown stalwart, typically found sitting in the shade of a tree outside of his Susquehanna Avenue rowhome. The retired artist spends his days sketching, smoking, and keeping an eye on his beloved neighborhood. “Born and raised here,” he proudly declares in a voice like gravel; his throat worn about as much by cigarettes as from greeting passers-by. “I got up one morning wanting to really freak people out, so I just started being really friendly. It blows ‘em away,” he says with a grin. At 68 years old, he’s called the neighborhood home all his life. A former teamster, Kruse has the quintessential Fishtown background. “It was blue-collar; Polish, Italian German.” Even Philadelphia media acknowledged the whitewashed neighborhood. Kruse recalled the title of a 50’s era Sunday newspaper insert highlighting Fishtown-area businesses- “White Town, USA.” With eyes wide in sincerity he claims, “I didn’t see a black person until Penn Treaty [Middle School].”
Only recently has there been a renewed interest in the neighborhood. Throughout the early 20th century, factories and workshops in the industrial neighborhood produced high quality products of all varieties; soap, vegetable oil, chocolate, yarn, lumber. The industries provided a stable source of work and income, and the laborers lived in the immediate area. The Shad fish that inhabited the Delaware River enabled a thriving fishing industry which helped support the neighborhood. The workforce was largely populated by eastern-European immigrants who shared bonds in their professions as well as their pasts and formed close, family-like communities. However, by the 1980’s the Shad fish had been completely eradicated from the Delaware River, fished into oblivion. The majority of the textile industries that had provided money and work had closed up shop. Fishtown’s motors had sputtered out. But with the recent development, Barcade’s Pete Langway believes the future to be promising; “I think it will continue to grow along Frankford and Girard [Avenues] as more and more businesses open up. Things happen a little more slowly in Philadelphia than in Brooklyn but in the end, I think a slow and steady and smart growth is better than the hectic pace of development we see in New York.”
In bordering Kensington, an area of the city hit particularly hard by the city’s drug and crime epidemic, racial tensions can still rear their ugly head from time to time. “Within the last 3 weeks, there were holdups outside Fishtown Market, a black guy and a Hispanic,” said Kruse, motioning toward the corner store two blocks away from his home. “We never had [things] like that” he growled. “My father used to fall asleep with the [front] door open. We’d wake up in the morning and that’s how it’d be.” Even so, with all the positive commotion in the neighborhood, it is quite hard for Mr. Kruse not to think optimistically. “Before, you had the young professionals living in Center City and Queen Village,” starts Kruse, cigarette ash falling onto the closed sketchpad on the table in front of him. “Then they started moving up here, where they could get cheap brownstones. They started opening up all these new stores, and then more moved in, to work all the new jobs- young professionals to serve young professionals.” He breaks to take a drag from his cigarette. Punctuated with a husky laugh, he quips, “it’s cheaper than Brooklyn!”
