This is a classic fight against the wrong kind of urban renewal, and the cast of characters is interesting. On one side is the owner, The University of Pennsylvania, the largest employer in Philadelphia, hiding behind its real estate department, and pushing its group of developers: the manager of most its properties (Campus Apartments, notorious among student residents), plus Penn’s former director of real estate, Mr. Lussenhop, and the Hersha Hospitality Corporation. The public face of the project is Mr. Lussenhop who reside sin the neighborhood and has many friends, especially the chair of the Zoning Committee of Spruce Hill Community Association, a man with much power in his little pond. He too has many friends, and many enemies. On the other side are the neighbors and their allies, collecting signatures, writing letters, mobbing public meetings, (actually not so public meetings) and talking to all who would hear. One who hears is State Representative James Roebuck, Jr. –formerly a history professor at Drexel—who knows how to distinguish the grassroots from the volunteers who run the community associations without having been elected, by the force of hard work, dedication and staying power.

These community associations are interesting, for they do not always speak for those they claim to represent, not when powerful neighbors like Penn infiltrate all the volunteer organizations, co-opt them with donations (or lack thereof) and communicate with them at regularly held top-down meetings (one loses one’s way with so many First Thursdays, Last Fridays, Second Tuesdays and so on!).
There is a discrepancy between residents who want development, especially commercial and especially far from where they themselves live, and residents who are in solidarity with those most directly affected and fear the precedent this would constitute. One Democratic ward leader sides with the first group: she says, textually, “if the people most directly affected were those who are heard, nothing would ever be built.” Right. In a neighborhood where Penn seems to daily change the design of streets to fit its new buildings, and to erect high-rises (all without parking) everywhere –although this is the first time in a historic residential area.
These two groups have different allies. Now the opposition goes far beyond the Woodland Terrace and Pine Streets associations. It has grown, in large part, because no preliminary consultations have ever been attempted and because the tune is “my way or the highway.” As the eminent Penn historian Michael Katz writes:

What is truly shocking about this proposal is the absence of any public discussion of alternative uses for the property. The idea that this hotel represents the only, or best, use is preposterous. Why not, for instance, consider demolishing the existing structure, which is ugly, dilapidated, and a monument to the mistreatment of the old and sick? The site could house a low-rise hotel or apartment house, a town house development, a mixed-use commercial and residential development – or something else appropriate to the site and neighborhood. Between Penn and the residents, there are enough informed and creative people to transform the site into a model of good urban design.

What the developers repeatedly declare –and what the Spruce Hill Community Association too often seems to tacitly endorse —is that this part of the neighborhood is overrun with students, who “do not matter and do not care.” The signatures collected are pooh-poohed as coming “from undergraduates.” This in the City of Philadelphia, which has been engaged for years in a concerted effort to retain graduating students in the area. Such contempt on the part of the same landlords who fill their coffers with student rents must be addressed.

There always are good reasons to support a grassroots effort. If you want to get involved there are hearings to attend and petitions to pass and hopefully there will be victory parties after we remind the city and its mayor what zoning and development should be like.