The Mystique of Washington Square in Philadelphia

Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping.

Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard,

In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed.

"the little Catholic churchyard"

These lines are from Longfellow's poem "Evangeline", which tells the story of two lovers separated when they were forced onto British ships bound for French Catholic settlements in what is now the United States. The British had just taken control of Nova Scotia in the mid-1700s, and these French Acadians were deported when they refused to pledge loyalty to England. Families were separated and Evangeline and her fiance from this Longfellow poem lost each other until he lay on his deathbed decades later. Most were sent to Louisiana where they became known as Cajuns, but many landed in other regions tolerant of Catholics: Maryland, New England, and Philadelphia. These were my ancestors on my father's side, and I was astonished to find out that this churchyard mentioned in the poem I've known for years is in Philadelphia beside Holy Trinity Catholic Church (1789), and that there are Cajuns buried there. "Unknown and unnoticed" indeed, especially to me!

Washington Square

This area surrounding Washington Square in Philadelphia has a colorful history that I'm willing to bet is "unknown and unnoticed" by the many folks who live near it. I've always noticed a peacefulness about this square, and perhaps I would go as far as to call it somberness, but I never knew why. William Penn included five squares or parks in his original plan for Philadelphia: Northeast (now Franklin Square), Southeast (now Washington Square), Centre Square (where City Hall now stands), Southwest (now Rittenhouse Square), and Northwest (now Logan Circle). Quakers like William Penn would not name places after people (this happened much later), and described these spaces by their relative locations. 

Dogs walking their owner

Washington Square definitely lacks the hubbub of the other squares, and one would never expect to find a Rittenhouse Square-esque art fair or event here. My guess is that anyone aware of Washington Square's history would discourage such activity on this ground which conceals the final resting places of hundreds of souls. You will find the more contemplative set here: old men playing chess, people reading, dogs walking their owners, and people of all walks of life passing through.

It's true: this square was used as a "potter's field" or graveyard for poor folks and strangers to the city for many years until the Revolutionary War when soldiers from both sides were buried here in mass graves. Victims of the yellow fever epidemic of 1793 were buried here, too. People who died from deplorable conditions in the Walnut Street Jail were buried here until the 1820s when the jail was replaced by the Eastern State Penitentiary. 

In 1954, the Washington Square Planning Committee set out to beautify the park and include a tribute to Washington and the Revolutionary War dead buried here. They imagined a Memorial Tomb to the "Unknown Soldiers of the Revolution" and brought in archeologists to dig up remains of an actual unknown Revolutionary War soldier to put in the memorial. So they dug and found skeletons wrapped in canvas, a clue that these would be the poor, or prisoners, or yellow fever victims. War dead were at least buried in coffins. At last a probable young American soldier's remains were found and placed in the memorial's tomb in front of the statue of George Washington. The eternal flame in front was added in 1976.

Memorial Tomb to the "Unknown Soldier of the Revolution" (1957)

 

Lippincott Building (1900)

Washington Square's history is not altogether gloomy. From the mid-1800s through the first quarter of the twentieth century, this place was a publishing hotspot. Lippincott, Lea & Febiger, Curtis (publishers of The Saturday Evening Post and Ladies' Home Journal), and the Farm Journal were here, and authors with the still-famous names of Edgar Allan Poe, Washington Irving, Charles Dickens, and Christopher Morley visited them and lectured nearby in the Musical Fund Hall on Locust Street. 

The Athenaeum of Philadelphia (1845)

The famous Athenaeum of Philadelphia, an exclusive subscription library now a National Historic Landmark, still exists in a brownstone building on the east side of the square. This institution allowed Philadelphia's wealthy residents access to the latest books and periodicals in a club setting. Tours are available of this treasure on weekdays, and it provides some fascinating online tours which can be found here. The Athenaeum bookstore specializes in Philadelphia, architecture, and Philadelphia architecture.

For more detailed information and a comprehensive walking tour of Washington Square, please consult this virtual tour provided by the Independence Hall Association in Philadelphia. For more information about the Memorial Tomb to the "Unknown Soldiers of the Revolution", consult this page provided by the same organization.

My Philadelphia 80s Memory Tour

It all started with a crazy plan to visit the Diana: A Celebration exhibit at the National Constitution Center. This was crazy because most other people in the Delaware Valley had the same idea. After waiting in two long lines (and I suspect that those of us who bought our tickets online waited longer than those who bought on the spot), we were finally let in to see the Diana artifacts. I was (am) a big fan of The Princess, so I was captivated by the childhood memorabilia, diaries and photos. Then there was The Wedding Dress in a giant glass case. The ivory silk is sumptuous, made from England's only silkworm farm. It was displayed with her shoes, a matching umbrella (just-in-case), a clutch, and a bridesmaid dress. Wowee. Then another room with about twenty-five dresses including ballgowns, cocktail dresses and day dresses. I took the time to admire each one and note the designer and fabric. The exhibit wrapped up with two rooms devoted to the end of Diana, including a display of the memorial books people signed, Elton John's hand-written lyrics for "A Candle in the Wind" and a video of the funeral.

The exhibit got me thinking of the eighties and nineties and what I was doing then. (The eighties are hot right now.) Since I lived in Philadelphia for most of the eighties while I attended Temple University, I took off on a walking tour of my old haunts east of Broad Street. I walked from the National Constitution Center to Penn's Landing, then down South Street, north to Locust, west through Outfest 2009, up Broad Street to Market and back to the car. I wish I had remembered to activate my iPhone pedometer!

These stones look really cool, but hurt my feet. Luckily they were in the beginning of my tour before my feet started to hurt a lot. While touring my old haunts, I remembered my college and graduate school days and how I knew I'd miss living in Center City when I inevitably moved away. I had hopes and dreams then and few have been realized. I can't say I have regrets, though: life had many surprises for me along with challenges. I often think that when I'm an old woman I'll not only wear purple, but I'll move back to the city and drive my purple Vespa all over.

This is the Ritz Theater, a place where I spent a lot of time in the eighties. I saw many movies here with my friends Vince and Carol even when the price went up to five dollars a ticket: "Out of Africa," "A Room With a View," and "My Beautiful Launderette" in addition to many, many French films.

A long time ago, I toured the Olympia (the ship) and the Becuna (the submarine) with my friend Vince. I remember I didn't feel very well that day and it was stifling hot, but I didn't regret the walk down the Penn's Landing because these ships were fascinating. They are still there:

After a brief tour of Penn's Landing, I headed to South Street, still a hip, bustling place, but much different than I remember from those college days. I have one fond memory of ditching the French Film Marathon at the TLA in favor of shopping the punk rock stores with a fellow dorm-inhabiting music-major friend. At breakfast one Saturday he explained he wanted to stock up on animal print T-shirts before he went home to Erie, PA, where they were in short supply. I had hoped to stop for lunch at Jim's Steaks, but the line was around the corner (see picture). Instead, I ducked into South Street Souvlaki, a favorite of my later Philadelphia years when I had a vegetarian friend. I ate some hummus and moved on.

This is Washington Square, a quiet park on Locust Street from Sixth to Eighth. Unlike the more popular Rittenhouse Square on the other side of Broad Street, Washington Square is a quiet secret, the place you would go with your book or your dog if you're not particularly interested in hunting for a place to sit or peoplewatching.

Ahhh, one of my favorite places on earth is the Academy of Music! I spent hours and hours in line here waiting for two-dollar orchestra tickets on Friday or Saturday nights. Back then, the Philadelphia Orchestra shared this performance space with the Opera Company of Philadelphia and the Pennsylvania Ballet. I had subscriptions to all one year or another, always the cheap seats way up in the top of the room (the dreaded Amphitheater). It's no exaggeration to say that I saw hundreds of performances amidst the red velvet upholstery of this hall. When it appeared in the movie, "The Age of Innocence," based on the Edith Wharton novel (a favorite), I recognized it immediately.

This is where I lived for five years while pursuing my Master of Music degree in Music Theory and a few years after. It's at 1324 Locust Street, was called the Sylvania House then, and now it's the Arts Condo. My apartment consisted of one room with a high ceiling, a small bathroom with a nice-sized tub, a teeny-weeny olive green kitchen unit in the main room, and a rusty-orange carpet. I had many spider plants on the sunny southern exposure windowsills along with houseplants I bought each year at the Philadelphia Flower Show back when it was held in University City. The apartment was nothing to brag about, but the location was perfect for a music major: across the street from the Academy of Music and the Merriam Theater, a few blocks from a large-for-then Barnes & Noble with a loft full of compact discs where I was in line behind Riccardo Muti once, and a few feet from the Broad Street Subway I used to go to school. This is the place where I hooked up my first CD player and my first VCR, and had my sewing machine set up to make most of my own work clothes inspired by the ladies of Dynasty and Princess Di herself.

I knew that many of my favorite haunts had changed over the years because I still visit Philadelphia frequently. There were few surprises other than Outfest 2009 blocking Locust Street and the conspicuous absence of The Book Trader on South Street. These big black boxes are new, and they were all over the city. I'm intrigued--can anyone explain how they work? Maybe I'll be a good librarian and Google 'BigBelly Solar Compactor'.