December 23-29, 2004

cityspace

1700 S. Dorrance St.

DECK THE WALLS: "You walk into a different world on this block," says Annetta Huzzy. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

Point Breeze neighbors build on a bright idea.

by Mike Newall

Few people in the Point Breeze section of South Philadelphia, a neighborhood of weathered row homes and peeling storefronts, bother with Christmas decorating anymore.

The 1700 block of South Dorrance Street is the exception. It's lit up like Vegas.

Twenty-seven strings, each containing 18 red, white and blue bulbs, drape above the street. Glittering white lights wrap the trees. Multicolored lamplights line the sidewalks. Homes have wreaths in the windows or lights on the doorframes.

"You walk into a different world on this block," says Annetta Huzzy, or Ms. Annetta as she is known on the block, where she has lived for 31 years.

The men and women of South Dorrance are not wealthy. Their homes are modest. They are single mothers and elderly widows. Retired housekeepers on pensions and janitors with calloused hands. They take pride in their block.

"You see it in the surrounding neighborhoods," says Marvin Pittman of the opulent light displays along Oregon Avenue. "Why shouldn't we have something nice like that?"

Five years ago, Pittman, 55, was bestowed the job of block captain. He first project would be holiday lights. They held fund-raisers -- cabarets, raffles and flea markets -- and residents paid $5-a-month dues to the "Dorrance Street Block Club." It took almost a year to raise the $3,000 they needed for materials.

Pittman and some other men made the light strings from scratch. One fall afternoon, Dorrance Street was closed off and Pittman climbed up his giant ladder to drill in the anchors that suspend the lights from the row-home brick. Ms. Annetta and the other ladies stood below shouting out directions. Pittman worked away, mumbling.

The lights hang year-round now. They shine every evening from Thanksgiving to Jan. 2. Neighborhood parents often stop by with their children. Sometimes they ring Ms. Annetta's bell and tell her how lovely the lights look.

The city charges Dorrance Street a flat fee of $150 to cover the electric costs. This year, the block raised another $500 to replace burned-out bulbs. The street was once again closed, and Pittman spent three October afternoons shuffling atop his ladder.

Pittman, a maintenance man by trade, uses an abrupt exterior to conceal his kindly nature.

"I never wanted to be block captain," he shrugged, on a recent frosty evening, his face illuminated by the glow of the lights. "I still don't, but the ladies keep after me."

He stares up at the display.

"I'll retire next year," he says.

The ladies of South Dorrance Street include Ms. Annetta, Ms. Deborah Scott, 51, and Ms. Laura Turner, a vibrant soul, 82 years young and not afraid to tell anyone so. The ladies sit in Ms. Annetta's living room and laugh off Pittman's declaration of pending retirement.

"He'll fuss about it," says Ms. Annetta, sitting upright as a schoolgirl on her plastic-covered couch, her hands in her lap. "But we won't let him quit. We need a man on this block."

Actually, Pittman doesn't live on Dorrance Street anymore. He moved after his first year as block captain. Some years ago, his wife died from diabetes.

Pittman likes to keep busy. He'll buy a house, fix it up, sell it and then buy another. He lived in the Northeast for a while but still managed to stop by every day, do the sweeping, the handiwork and visit Ms. Annetta.

"He's very particular about those lights," says Ms. Annetta, her voice almost in a whisper. "He won't admit it. But when he gets done, he stands out there and looks at them. They're gorgeous. People will come up and tell him how nice they look."

A cordial woman with a smile as warm as summer, Ms. Annetta was planning this year to replace the lights outside her home. But her heater blew and the money she set aside for new Christmas lights went to a new heater instead.

"The only thing that has changed about this block is the people," she says, paging through a scrapbook of black-and-white photographs of her late husband, Augustus, a slender, bespectacled man and the original block captain of Dorrance Street. "Some have died. Some have moved away. Some are here with us."

On this evening, Pittman, Ms. Annetta and the other ladies sit watching a nightly news segment about the fanciful Christmas light displays of an opulent New Jersey suburb.

"Well, their homes are a lot bigger than ours," says Ms. Deborah, leaning back in her chair, sizing up the Christmas light monstrosities on the screen.

"That don't mean nothing," says Pittman. "It don't mean a thing."

Do you live on a block with an interesting story? Send your tips to editorial@citypaper.net.