Kevin Wallace ambled across 43rd Street along Baltimore Avenue in a fake Philadelphia Police Department uniform. Seeing an oncoming car, he gestured toward it with his newfound sense of authority, and smiled to himself when it actually paused.
Wallace, who lives just a half-block away, was part of the May 26 filming of Café, a movie based on West Philadelphia's own Green Line Café. He was playing Officer Hessler.
Across from the makeshift set, which bustled with other fake officers and boom mics, Wallace bummed a cigarette off Owen Drake, a stand-in on the film. "I don't have any lines," he said between drags. "But I do have this cool gun."
Nearby, at Best House Pizzeria, employees and patrons gawked at the production. Joe Dubolino, who lives above the shop, had his standard routine interrupted by the film. "I couldn't get my chocolate croissant this morning," he said. But Joe didn't mind much. "Better than seeing crime all the time. Drugs and bullshit."
A yell came from on set.
"Action and gunshots!"
Excitement rippled through the tiny crowd.
"Do we get to see the gunshot scene?" someone asked.
"Sorry," said a staff intern, "it actually takes place inside the café."
"Oh, man!"
A moment of truth may be approaching in Harrisburg. As of last Tuesday, the state Senate had before it two contradictory bills: one from Sen. John Eichelberger (R-Blair) that would amend the state constitution to ban same-sex marriage, and one from Sen. Daylin Leach (D-Montgomery) that would grant equal marriage rights to gay and lesbian couples.
Leach says that, with recent victories in other states, the timing for his bill is right. He believes same-sex marriage is "inevitable."
So let's say — hypothetically — that you want Leach's bill to triumph. What can you do?
"Persuasion one-on-one," says Leach. "Talk to your neighbors, talk to your friends." You can also contact your legislators and let them know where you stand. (Find them at legis.state.pa.us.) There's good precedent to cite: Massachusetts has had same-sex marriage since 2004. Says Leach, "straight couples do not implode when a gay couple lives next to them."
During my four-year bid, the school was chaotic. I remember some friends getting stuck up with a gun while shooting dice outside the lunchroom. Walking around on Saturday, I saw none of that: The walls were still beige, the color of numb, the paint slathered on in blocks and blotches to mask graffiti.
Behind the old relic is a new school, already completed, awaiting students. It's supposed to be smaller and more intimate than its predecessor. Walking away from old Lincoln for the last time, I was more jealous than mournful.
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