Most people come to Philadelphia hoping to glimpse the Liberty Bell. Or to visit Independence Hall where they might reenact key scenes from National Treasure, and I admit there was a bit of that during my stay (any excuse to do a bad Nic Cage impression). But, given my rather unhealthy addiction to fonts and lettering, I was also taken with the various examples of faded type around the city.
A closer look at the above ghost sign for Reedmor Books on Walnut Street reveals an illustration and a manicule pointing visitors in the right direction. Reedmor Books no longer exists but, whilst I was taking this photograph, a guy stopped to tell me he remembered the store. He bemoaned the fact that a lot of independent bookshops have shut down in Philly. One of which had been turned into a three-storey Walgreens. To quote Anya of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame: ‘It’s like evolution only without the getting better part.’
The nice man chatted very kindly to me for a while but when he realised he’d got into a conversation about fading signage with someone who’d written a book on the subject I saw the little light in his eyes go out. It’s the same look I saw on the faces of one or two eligible bachelors during my twenties who thought they were on a date with a care-free blonde but realised they were actually on a date with an uber-nerd who spent Friday nights researching the history of the Biro pen and organising her stationery.
In the name of British politeness I ceased reciting typographical facts and told him: ‘I must press on with my exploring.’ Walking away, I’m sure I heard just a tiny sigh of relief.
This signage sporting the slogan: ‘Philadelphia’s Finest Apparel Store’ is for a women’s speciality shop, founded in the 1910s by Ralph Blum. The first one in Philadelphia opened in 1920 and was located on the corner of 13th and Chestnut. Trees are culturally and historically significant to Philadelphia and many of the streets are named after the various species.
I was distracted from noting which street this sign was on because in the middle of taking the picture I was asked to donate to a homeless charity. Which I did. And had a lengthy chat with the guy collecting who, like everyone I met in Philly, was ultra-friendly. From the partial type all across this building, I gleaned this was signage for an old copy / printing / photography place.
I love the seedy sound of ‘Chicks Bar & Backroom Cafe’ (because I’m wholesome like that) but this now-closed eatery on 7th Street seems to have had several incarnations. According to its online review history, one of those incarnations was a rather classy-sounding wine bar. Not even sure they would’ve let me in wearing my trainers. Still, though the building currently seems to be between owners, this wonderful typography survives.
The first McDonald’s Playland was opened in California, 1973. I grew up, like most kids in 1980s Britain, idolising American, McDonald’s-infused culture. This is a little reminder of just how cuddly and child-friendly the packaging was on all those burgers; full-fat drinks and fries. So glad that twenty years later we’re not suffering an obesity crisis. Oh… wait.
If you enjoyed this post you might also enjoy my book Fading London: The City’s Vanishing Ghost Signs.
The Westway Diner on 9th Avenue, just north of 43rd Street, is a neat oblong decked out in shades of rhubarb and custard. The lighting fixtures look 1970s by design. Large, circular bulbs, the colour of terracotta and mustard, suspended from the ceiling tiles. Liquor bottles and upturned Martini glasses are stacked behind the cash register, and all the staff wear black.
yet to be washed away. There’s a pleasant buzz in the air but this isn’t a tourist extravaganza like Ellen’s on Broadway. Here, locals loll about, chomping on omelettes and pancakes. Dressed in tracksuits and sneakers; jeans and sports T-Shirts.