August 5–12, 1999
cover story
Katz Fishing
Katz Fishing
An unlikely angling expedition on Wissahickon Creek — and a glimpse into the family life of the Republican who would be mayor.
photographs by Sandor Welsh
Finally, it is time for fishing
But any delusions of fishing grandeur are quickly dashed after we pull into the Valley Green parking lot.
After a man in a vest and waders tells us that all he caught in this stretch of the Wissahickon were a couple of small sunnies, I reach into the trunk, pull out the rods and realize that Wal-Mart sold me one without a crank — something I failed to notice after waiting nearly an hour for a manager to come back to sporting goods and unfreeze a frozen cash register.
Katz looks at the sorry collection and shakes his head. Elizabeth looks on, bemused.
"How about breakfast?" Katz asks semi-facetiously, then asks, "OK, where do you want to fish?"
Knowing how frustrating it is to get fishing line caught up in trees, I spot a clearing on the banks of the Wissahickon.
"Follow me," I say, leading our expedition to the spot I’ve selected.
It is a good spot to avoid trees. Unfortunately, as I sink into the muck, I realize that it may not be the best place to fish.
"This looks like quicksand," says Elizabeth, whose normally cheerful visage sours slightly at the sight of the brown ooze at the water’s edge. Despite the mud, we settle in, using several big boulders as platforms to keep from wallowing in the mire.
After stringing the poles and baiting the hooks, I pass the two Wal-Mart rods to Katz and his daughter.
Several attempts at casting result only in frustration, tangled line and the catching of one good-sized log.
Instead of fishing, Katz says he plays a little golf to relax, but that it would be much better if golf were only a 13-hole sport.
"I start to lose my concentration after 13 holes," he says, carefully avoiding the ever-present goo. "Ready for breakfast yet?"
As Katz’s line fouls, leaving yards and yards of five-pound test balled up, he spots a real fisherman on the opposite shore. "See that guy over there," he says, pointing to the man in the vest and waders across the Wissahickon. "He’s probably laughing at us and wondering whether that jerk Sam Katz can do anything right."
But seriously folks, Katz says there is plenty that he will do right in the race for mayor.
First and foremost, he says, will be the campaign’s tenor.
"I don’t think it will be nasty," says Katz, who by now has given up fishing and is seeking respite lying on his back on a boulder under a chestnut tree.
"It will be heated, but not nasty," says Katz. "Mostly, it will be pretty quiet until September. It will be an eight-week race."
Katz says he has no interest in the kind of slash-and-burn ugliness that dominated the Democratic primary. Even though he, in that campaign, was a contributing factor in the waning days, something he readily acknowledges.
"When it’s over I have to live here, walk around town, live with myself and govern," says Katz. "We have to set parameters of what we will do. Both of us will run campaigns that are respectful to one and other, tough, but always above board.
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pq2:"See that guy over there?" he says, pointing to the man in the vest and waders across the Wissahickon. "He’s probably laughing at us and wondering whether that jerk Sam Katz can do anything right."
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"John feels comfortable that he can win," adds Katz. "He won’t do anything drastically different unless that feeling changes. My guess is that view won’t change. I saw John almost every night on the campaign trail. I do not know him real well, but I like him."
Katz may like Street, but that doesn’t mean the Democratic candidate is going to get a free ride.
"Will you conduct an investigation into Street?" I ask as I launch yet another worm into a watery grave.
"Not his background," says Katz. "His record."
"Will you look into the connection between contributions and the decisions Street has made as 5th District Councilman and Council president?"
"Everything," says Katz. "Everything."
"What exactly?"
"You don’t expect me to talk about that," Katz says with a laugh. "I can’t talk about campaign strategy. It hasn’t been determined." Frustrated by the balky equipment, Elizabeth says that the Katz clan has had much better results fishing in the past.
"We have more luck in North Carolina," says Elizabeth. "We fish in a local stock farm there."
With that, Katz declares that his hunger has finally overwhelmed his yen to fish, which was never much of a yen to begin with.
Over an omelette at Bruno’s restaurant in Chestnut Hill, Elizabeth talks about what it was like to watch her father lose. Elizabeth says she really doesn’t remember the first time, back in 1991, when Katz lost the Republican mayoral primary to the soon-to-drop-dead Frank Rizzo.
"I just remember the party," she says in between nibbles. "It was kind of fun anyway."
The second time Katz lost, back in 1994 when her father was running against Ridge, wasn’t so bad either, according to Elizabeth. "I knew what he was running for and I knew we would have to live in Harrisburg," she says. "I didn’t want to live in Harrisburg, because I have friends here that I didn’t want to leave. I told my dad that if we did move, I would come back here every single weekend in a limousine."
This time around, Elizabeth says she is fully aware of everything. And liking it.
"We have current events in school so we talk about the race a lot," she says. "Everyone thinks it’s cool that my dad is running."
Is she a celebrity?
"Because of him?" she asks. "Well, I think most of my classmates know he is running for mayor."
Though her father is increasing the family profile, something that would make the average teen cringe, Elizabeth says her friends aren’t treating her any differently.
And what is it like to hear people dis your dad?
"I have already heard people say mean things," she says, with the very genuine nonchalance of a young woman inured to the trials of campaigning. Besides, Elizabeth says she is learning a lot.
"I kind of understand what he is talking about when he is talking about running the city," says Elizabeth, who wants to be a doctor or an actress when she grows up. "And I learn stuff about Philadelphia."
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Back at the manse, Katz stops to tend the roses growing along the stone wall on the Huron Street side of the property. As he bends over to pluck weeds and trim dead branches, his 18-year-old daughter Lauren is heading out for her waitress shift. Katz hugs her.
Like Elizabeth, Lauren says she enjoys the campaign.
"We aren’t asked to do a lot," says Lauren. "We can come when we want, we can tag along to any kind of parade or anything we want and we get to meet a lot of new people. It’s fun."
The first time her dad lost, she was 10 and remembers only that the family took a trip to Disney World afterward.
"Was that a campaign promise?"
"I didn’t know about it until we went, but it was a pretty good deal," she says. "The second time my dad lost, it was tough. It was hard on him. It was a tough time for our family with everything that was going on that spring [Katz’s brother Jimmy succumbed to the AIDS virus shortly before the campaign started] and he had a tough time focusing."
What does Lauren think when her dad is blasted in the media?
"I don’t read the newspapers and I don’t watch TV," she says. "It’s hard to see people criticize your dad. I think he’s the greatest thing on earth. So when people are saying he’s no good, I don’t need to hear that."
Lauren says she doesn’t bury her head in the sand.
"It’s not like I stay out of the rest of world affairs," she says. "But unless there is an article with good stuff about him to read, I won’t read it."
How’s dad coping with the pressure?
"He should take better care of himself," says Lauren. "You have to relax, but it is not a relaxing job."
Despite public perception to the contrary, Lauren says her father does know how to enjoy life.
"He seems like an uptight, serious guy, but he does know how to have fun," she says."
Still, he does have a hard time letting go. "Ever since I was little he has always been working," she says. "He works all week. He is a hard worker, the hardest worker I know. And I remember when I was a little kid and he would come home on Friday after having been all over the country. Instead of going to sleep like most people would want to, he would be out there and he would be playing with us and he would be up on Saturday morning at six to play with us again and he would be at the birthday parties on Sunday and then say goodbye to us on Sunday night."
After Lauren leaves for work, Katz invites us back into his home. Though I stamped my feet on the mat outside to shake off any residual mud, Katz spots a clump that somehow managed to find its way inside.
"Better pick this up," he says as he bends down.
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"I want to show you something," says Katz, taking us to the enclosed former patio that is his office. The centerpiece is a huge, arched window that overlooks Allens Lane and the hammock in Katz’s backyard. Magazines are piled on his nattily cluttered desk; a recent edition of U.S. News and World Report is open to "Philly after Eddie," a story about the end of the Rendell era. There is a copy of Street & Smith’s Sports Business, something near and dear to a man who helped finance three of the four newest downtown major league baseball stadiums.
To the right of the desk is Katz’s music collection, an eclectic assortment including Sarah Vaughan, Elton John, The Eagles, Puccini’s Madama Butterfly, Latin Guitar Festiva and various works by Brahms and other composers.
Suddenly, there is a minor family crisis. Elizabeth has a bat mitzvah in Bryn Mawr, but all the family cars are being used: Lauren is at work and Philip is taking his SATs.
I offer to take her, which Katz accepts, reluctantly, feeling uncomfortable at asking a reporter a favor.
"No sweat," I tell him. "Just a favor from one parent to another."
As she, photographer Sandor Welsh and I pile into the gray Toyota, Connie Katz pokes her head out of the upstairs bathroom window and wonders where her daughter is going.
I explain the Katz car situation. After taking a moment to soak it all in, Connie Katz wishes her daughter well.
Just another crazy morning in the life of the Republican who would be mayor.
