The Spirit of Transportation

Last Friday, my Mom mentioned to me that my dad was restless and wanted to take a train ride - I think he finds the clickety-clack of the train over the rails somehow both, hypnotizing and comforting - Mom also seemed to be a little desirous of some peace and quiet. I think things have gotten back to where they were before my Dad's recent heart attack.

And of course, I'm always up for a train ride to I visited Amtrak's website and mapped out a "quick" trip from Philadelphia to Harrisburg and back.


The train left Philadelphia's 30th Street Station around 1 PM and got back around 5 PM, speeding over roughly 200 miles round trip. My dad and I really enjoyed the train ride - It sped through Lancaster County where the view consists largely of Amish farms, complete with laundry hanging in the snow flurries.

While waiting for my dad to appear at the train station, I wandered about and this caught my eye.


Terra-cotta plaque “Spirit of Transportation” by Karl Bitter
When I got a chance, I looked up some details.

Karl Theodore Francis Bitter (December 6, 1867 in Vienna – April 9, 1915) was an Austrian-born United States sculptor best known for his architectural sculpture, memorials and residential work.

Although Bitter arose out of the Classical/Naturalist styles he was increasingly turning towards a more modern approach to sculpture. Much of the work he did in Buffalo and St. Louis was allegorical in nature.

Where this change of art-form would have taken him will never be known, because he was killed in a tragic accident in 1915 when, while leaving the opera in NYC, a car jumped the curb and struck him down.

Created in 1895, this plaque was originally installed at the Pennsylvania Railroad's Philadelphia Broad Street Station and was moved to the waiting area of 30th Street Station in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in January 1933.

It depicts the evolution of transportation as a triumphal procession. “Transportation” herself is riding in a canopied chariot in the middle.


I was mildly amused by the little boy (who appears to have a very old man's head) at the far right holding up a dirigible, that is a "lighter-than-air aircraft", which is to represent the "future" of transportation coming after the steam-powered riverboat and steam locomotive train.

Whiter than White!

A good friend of mine, Deanna (I call her Punkn), has been writing a weekly post called "Will I Ever Learn Wednesday" and this week does not disappoint.

For some reason today's post resurfaced in my mind something that happened a long time ago, back in the dark days before Blogger and the possibly even the Al Gore-created Internet.

I was working for a pharmaceutical company called Smithkline And French, that went through a myriad of mergers first with Beckman, and then with Beecham and then GlaxoWellcome. The company is now known as GlaxoSmithKline.

I worked with a bunch of people that did clinical data management - and worked on a state of the art, "mainframe" computer with dumb terminals - Yes, Bucky, I'm that old. They did have e-mail back then - however it only went to people within the company.

Once a week, on Friday, I would send my data-minded, statistically-bent colleagues a little "interdepartmental" blurb that would today, be recognized as a blog entry. I covered any subject that left me thinking "why is that?" or "isn't that odd?" I called it "Friday's Ponderables".

And so it was on one Friday morning, I rushed to work and frantically typed a long-winded, agonized lament about Ivory Soap.


I can remember looking at a fresh bar of Ivory Soap while standing in the shower earlier that morning thinking, "Hmmm, 99 and 44/100 pure? What IS the other stuff? The impure stuff???!? Do I really want to be slathering it all over my body?"

So I wrote in that e-mail that went to about 75 people, all of which were brilliant, many were Ph.D's in biology, biostatistics or computer science, asking, "What, exactly IS the other 66/100th in Ivory Soap?!?"

Imagine my mortification, when a short while after sending that e-mail, which speculated nearly endlessly about just what the "impure stuff" was, I got a reply from my boss with the subject of "Iggy likes things Whiter than White!" that he had send to everyone that got the original e-mail.

He went on to say, "Not only does Iggy overachieve while working on the stickiest of your data-related problems, he likes things whiter than white! Brighter than bright! Newer than new! He, perhaps overreached things with his latest 'Friday's Ponderables" when he was looking for something a bit extra! Being 99 and 44/100th pure means that there is 56/100th (and not 66/100th) of something else in their soap. But we will forgive him, because his heart's in the right place and he is 99 and 44/100th pure (simpleton) himself."

I think about that time, I started to think, perhaps, maybe, it was time to find a new job somewhere else...

Philly Cheese Steaks (FD)

Deep in the south of Philadelphia, located in an largely Italian neighborhood, at the intersections of 9th Street, Wharton & Passyunk Avenues, lies the pulsing not so culinary heart of the city. On this hardly holy ground, you will find both, the birth place and sources of the world re-known Philly Cheese Steak.

And I'm (almost, but not totally) ashamed to say, I've never been there, but the history and ongoing family and political controversies are fascinating.

So, get in line, order yourself a "Cheese Wit" or perhaps a "Cheese wit-out-insides out" while you read on.


Pat's King of Steaks was founded by Pat and Harry Olivieri in 1930 when the brothers opened a hot dog stand in south Philadelphia. The brothers are generally credited as being the co-creators of the Philly Steak Sandwich.

In 1933, the brothers were busy in their hot dog stand, when they decided to try something new for lunch. I guess three years of nothing but hot dogs will do that to you - or perhaps they ran out of Ketchup.

Legend has it, Pat sent Harry to the market for some inexpensive steak. The brothers thinly sliced the steak, then grilled it along with some chopped onions. The aroma attracted a cabdriver who was a regular customer; he asked to try the dish which the brothers called a steak sandwich. So, Pat sold him a sandwich for ten cents.


Soon afterwards, the brothers started selling steak sandwiches instead of hot dogs. By 1940, they had saved enough to rent space to open a restaurant at the very same spot that they had their hot dog stand. The two brothers worked at the restaurant for 15 to 18 hours a day for the next few decades while the restaurant was open 24 hours a day.


By 1960s, there were other businesses in the area selling similar steak sandwiches. Long-time competitor Geno's Steaks claimed they were the first to add cheese to the recipe, though Harry Olivieri's son, Frank, claims he first added Cheese Whiz in 1950s.

The two restaurants, located diagonally across the street from each other, became cultural and culinary landmarks.

Technically, Pat's does not claim to sell cheese steaks, but steak sandwiches, although the Cheez Whiz variant is the most popular. Pat's menu is very similar to that of Geno's; both use thinly-sliced rib eye steak. Pat's chops up its meat, however, while Geno's does not.

A sign at the door explains how to order; you ask for what variety of sandwich you want and then say "wit" or "wit-out" (that is, whether you want the sandwich with or without onions), a tongue-in-cheek reference to the Philadelphia accent.

"Insides out" means to tear out (and feed to the pigeons) some of the bread found in the hearty sandwich rolls.

You can have your Cheese steak with Cheez Whiz, Provolone, Cheez Whiz, American cheese, Cheez Whiz, Swiss cheese or with Cheez Whiz, or have it "Plain" (no cheese at all).

I've never quite understood the "Cheese Steak Plain" business... I mean, its just a Steak Sandwich to me...

A "real" Philadelphia native, I'm told, orders his or hers, "Whiz, wit."

Ugh, Cheese Whiz. It's definitely a good thing that I live in the 'burbs... :)


Geno's Steaks was founded in 1966 by Joe Vento. Geno's is located directly across the street from rival Pat's King of Steaks.

According to Vento, the name Geno's was chosen because Joe's Steak Place was already being used by another business (imagine that!) He improvised the name from a broken door on which someone had painted GINO and modified the spelling to prevent confusion with a regional fast food chain called Gino's.

Vento later named his own son Geno, and the latter now works in the family business.

Both the Olivieri and Vento families have been in the news, as their extended families have opened up restaurants selling, what else? Cheese Steak Sandwiches, complete with trademark and copyright infringement suits along with claims and counterclaims of being the "one true real purveyor" of the Philly Cheese Steak.

I'm told this is authentic recipe (here) for those of you that just can't wait to get to Philadelphia to try one out.

As for me, I'm just going to have a hot dog and a soft pretzel.

Pat's King of Steaks
Geno's Steaks

The President's House in Philadelphia

The President's House (demolished), was formerly located on the 500 block of Market Street, and served as the official residence of the President of the United States for 10 years while the nation's capital was located in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Two Presidents occupied the house while in office, George Washington from 1790 to 1797, and John Adams, from 1797 to 1800.


The house experienced many interesting moments in its use as the executive mansion. These include the signing of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1793 and the Alien and Sedition Acts. During the Revolutionary War, Benedict Arnold occupied the house when he began his betrayal.

The house is in the news once more as the National Park Service is digging at the site and is developing a much delayed exhibit, as part of the Independence National Historical Park, commemorating the house and all of its former residents, including the enslaved Africans amongst them, a man named Hercules, who was George Washington's head cook.


This picture (from here) shows the site where the house stood. Note, I didn't take this picture and do not know these people standing in the puddles.

You can also see Independence Hall, the site of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in the background. The Liberty Bell is in the long building on the right.

I'm very familiar with the site of the house as it was located where James and I got stuck pushing Karla's wheelchair in a torrential downpour on the day we went to visit the "bell". The curb where we struggled while standing a large puddle has been dug up - and happens to be right where the photographer of this picture was standing at the time they took this picture!


Anyway, Hercules was one of 9 enslaved Africans to work in the Philadelphia presidential household. The others were: Richmond (his son), Oney Judge, Moll, Austin, Christopher Sheels, Giles, Paris, and Joe - along with more than 70 white servants over the course of Washington's occupancy. Gradually, the enslaved Africans were replaced by white German indentured servants.

Hercules was "a celebrated artiste ... as highly accomplished a proficient in the culinary art as could be found in the United States." He was given the privilege of selling the extra food from the Philadelphia kitchen, which earned him over $100 a year (at a time when most people made about $100 a year).

Pennsylvania law at the time allowed the enslaved to legally obtain their freedom, provided they established a 6-month residency in Pennsylvania. To prevent this, non-resident slaveholders took their slaves out of the state before the 6-month deadline. A 1788 amendment to the law prohibited this rotation of slaves in and out of Pennsylvania.

But George Washington knowingly violated this amendment to the Gradual Abolition Law. He maintained that his presence in Philadelphia was a consequence of its being the national capital, that he remained a citizen of Virginia, and he was careful that neither he nor his slaves spent the six continuous months in Pennsylvania necessary to establish legal residency.

Hercules, however, escaped to freedom in March 1797, at the end of Washington's presidency.

About a month after Hercules' escape, Prince Louis-Philippe of France visited the Washington's at Mount Vernon in Virginia. His manservant spoke with Hercules's 6-year-old daughter, and ventured that she must have been upset that she would never see her father again. The girl reportedly replied, "Oh! Sir, I am very glad, because he is free now."

By the provisions of Washington's will, Hercules was legally emancipated in 1801, making him no longer a runaway fugitive but a free man.

Because Hercules' wife Alice had been a "dower" slave, owned by the estate of Martha Washington's first husband, their children could not be freed by George Washington's will (since legally, they didn't "belong" to George). Instead, all of Hercules' children remained enslaved, and were among the 153 "dowers" slaves divided up by Martha Washington's four grandchildren, following her 1802 death.

More information about the house is (here)