Fading Ads of Philadelphia (Part II)

In Autumn 2015, I spent about a month out in the States. Living on a shoe-string and using my experiences to add texture to my Starlight Diner books. While I was out there however, being an author of a book about hand-painted signs and a total typography geek, I took a lot of photos of fading adverts.

You don’t have to walk far in Philly to see a ghost sign. Maybe it’s because there was a lot of redevelopment in the city throughout the Fifties and Sixties but, particularly around Walnut Street, there is fading type aplenty.

The Formal Dimensions company featured in the sign above is actually still in operation, but not at this address. Now, 1105 Walnut Street is houses a branch of Hollywood Tans.

Society Hill Furniture was actually around as late as 2008 and was a family run business on Chestnut Street for forty-five years before that. There is some more faded type underneath that sign, but even after glaring at it for fifteen minutes in the rain I couldn’t quite make out the wording. A ‘W’ and a ‘U’ are definitely in the mix but that was all I could decipher in the time I had.

There are two sets of type on this building in Camac Street, both related to food products. The less-legible sign at the bottom reads: ‘Camac Food Market,  free delivery, phone no 6-172(?)6.’ The lettering underneath that seems to say ‘Every body’ probably part of a slogan that has been worn away over the years.

Walk out to the industrial edges of the city, along Benjamin Franklin Bridge, and you’ll find more fading signs. Beneath the type for Poggenpohl Kitchens on the chimney above you can also make out the word ‘Wilbur.’

Judging by the name of the building: The Chocolate Works, and the advertisements for cocoa on the underside of the bridge, it’d be safe to say this building was once occupied by Wilbur Chocolate. You can read all about their history here.

If you enjoyed this post you might enjoy Ghost Signs of Philadelphia (Part I) or my book Fading London: The City’s Vanishing Ghost Signs.

Ghost Signs of Philadelphia Part I

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.