A Million Stories

All the news we care to print.

by Brian Howard, Holly Otterbein and Andrew Thompson

Evan M. Lopez

This is the first time we've ever said this, and it may very well be the last, so listen closely: The Department of Licenses and Inspections (L&I) has become more efficient. It sounds implausible, like if we told you that Joey Vento oversaw his son's gay wedding to a Mexican construction worker, or that Mayor Michael Nutter shaved his goatee — something that signifies that a giant hole has been ripped in the fabric of space-time.

But in a gigantic victory for everyone who ever thought L&I could get a little more streamlined (the number of people with this opinion is estimated at around 1.5 million), the city announced on March 20 that the department has found enormous savings in how it demolishes buildings — 50 percent, in fact. The cost of ridding the city of a three-story row home has decreased to $13,000 from $26,000. And, considering that L&I performed 345 demolitions last year and is on track to perform 625 in 2010 (and on buildings larger than just row homes), that adds up. (L&I Commissioner Frances Burns says she doesn't know to what degree the ratio of those savings translates to larger commercial buildings, but that most demos are row homes, because the city's got an apparent shit-ton of derelict ones sitting about.)

Essentially, the cost-saving strategy comes down to three main changes, plus one leverage of circumstance: L&I has bundled properties together when it solicits bids instead of auctioning off individual sites, thus saving money similar to buying a gargantuan, industrial jar of mayo from Sam's Club instead of a bunch of smaller, higher-price-per-ounce ones at the Acme. That same strategy is used in specific contracts per job — so instead of putting out three contracts for different work on the same job, that's all been consolidated. L&I also now puts all of its non-emergency bids through the city's procurement process, to ensure that the bids it accepts on these projects are the lowest and best offers.

This was not done before, for some reason.

Lastly, in a rationale surprisingly frank for a press release, "The contractors need work so they are lowering their bids to obtain the demolition contract awards."

In other words, labor comes cheap these days — a truism that has yet to be employed in the rest of City Hall.

Dept. of Humping Amphibians

The toads are just trying to get laid, man.

Which is why, on the night of March 22, more than 800 of them attempted to cross the perilous Eva Street to reach the Roxborough Reservoir, a body of water that's basically the toad equivalent of the Jersey Shore Jacuzzi. (In reality, the toads prefer the reservoir for mating because it's one of the largest bodies of water in the area where the likelihood that turtles or fish will eat their eggs is lowest.)

Sadly, only 600 of the toads completed their quest. The others were struck by oncoming traffic, and even more likely would have died had it not been for Toad Detour, a Philly-based group of about 100 volunteers that arrived on the scene to deliver hundreds of horny toads (and some frogs) to their mating grounds in one piece.

This year's migration was particularly deadly because the toads hit the streets a few weeks earlier than expected.

"We had a few very warm days in a row," says Lisa Levinson, Toad Detour's coordinator. "And when the ground thaws, that's their signal to migrate." For Toad Detour, that meant a jogger alerted the group of the toad invasion on the morning of March 22, and volunteers were pounding the pavement by 7 p.m. that night.

To prevent an even greater toad slaughter — and to keep drivers from thinking they've entered some Magnolia-like hell, where frogs plop from the sky by the hundreds — the Philadelphia Streets Department gave Toad Detour permission to close Eva Street and a part of Port Royal Avenue as needed until April 16, when the toads stop amplexusing (that's toad for "screwing").

In the meantime, if you want to volunteer to save a few hundred toads, sign up at toaddetour.com. Or just amble down to Eva Street between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m. on a rainy day — prime time, apparently, for amplexusing.

We've Got High Hopes

As if you needed further proof that Philadelphia fans are capital-F Fanatics (beyond that you can now, for realzies, buy grass seed formulated by Citizens Bank Park's head groundskeeper), behold: Phans of a team that is absolutely swimming in money — thanks to effectively leveraging a state-of-the-art, publicly subsidized stadium, and to a ridiculously rabid fan base that's already put 2010 attendance over 3 million in season ticket sales — are pooling their nickels and dimes to have a statue of the dearly departed voice of the team, Harry Kalas, erected outside said stadium.

This all started, as things do these days, on the Facebook, when Phillies fan/college student Antonio José started a petition the day after Hall of Fame announcer Kalas collapsed in the press box of Nationals Park last April, imploring: "Philadelphia has a Rocky statue. Don't you think Harry has done more for this city than Rocky did?"

José, after starting the group/petition, stopped paying attention to the page because, well, he was a 19-year-old college student and DJ. "I wandered off and did my own thing," says José, now 20, who grew up around Temple and is a graphic design student at Community College of Philadelphia and a hip-hop/house DJ.

While he was studying and spinning, the FB group's membership hit 17,000 or so.

(CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

One of the petition signers was acclaimed Vermont-based, Merion-native realist sculptor Lawrence J. Nowlan. Nowlan, a Millersville and PAFA alum, embraced the project and spun it into the nonprofit foundation Dear Harry, Inc.(harrykalasstatue.com. At present, there are 23,600 petitioners for a campaign that's raised approximately one-third of the $80,000 needed to cast the bronze likeness, with an April 23 bash at McFadden's, a June 1 golf tournament at Huntingdon Valley Country Club and some pending corporate sponsorships in the offing. Nowlan says they'll also sell bronze castings of the original 20-inch model.

On one hand, you have to appreciate the "we paid for the stadium, we'll build a statue for it if we want" attitude. On the other hand, $80,000 is chump change for a team that'll shell out $31,500 per day this year for the services of Ral Ibáñez. Nowlan's on record as not wanting to ask the team for money, which, y'know, shouldn't preclude the team from offering it, anyway. The team's official statement, from Senior VP of Administration and Operations Mike Stiles, is cagey: "We appreciate the fans' effort to honor Harry's memory. We look forward to seeing the final product and we're certainly willing to consider accepting it for placement at the ballpark."

But, according to Nowlan — who just returned from the team's spring training complex in Clearwater, where, he says, he was treated like a visiting dignitary — "I think an organization that size can't commit to anything until they actually see it, but I don't have any doubt" that they'll display the statue.

Of course, if you were promising to drop an $80,000 piece of sculpted bronze in our laps, we'd treat you real sweet, too.

This week's report by Brian Howard, Holly Otterbein and Andrew Thompson. E-mail us at amillionstories@citypaper.net.