My family moved into the Logan neighborhood around 1991. It was our first home, and I imagine this was a dream realized for my parents. Up until that point, we had lived in various apartments around North Philly, each one moving progressively north from a rough area to a little better area and so forth.

I was fairly young and do not remember much about that time. Yet, as I transitioned into high school, the commutes that took me through the Logan Triangle left an impression. Many of the homes were still there, but abandoned. Dr. Turner’s office, which became one of the last buildings to be torn down, sat on an island right where traffic turns onto Roosevelt Boulevard. The loss of the pharmacy on the corner of 10th and Courtland is still felt today. Two or three lived-in homes were sitting in the middle of a street surrounded by the empty shells of the other homes. Some houses sat alone in a field riddled with trash and bulging pockets of earth. Squatters poked their heads out of the windows. You could feel them watching you. Once, I bravely walked onto a porch to look in and witnessed someone using drugs in the living room. It was enough to make me run away.

Piece by piece the neighborhood disappeared and, at the time, I did not know why. All I knew was that I could sometimes hear water under the street and that walking up and down Logan had uneven terrain like when crossing small hills.

As I got older, the homes disappeared in strips. Huge piles of rubbish took their place. I eventually moved away, but began coming back to the area in the early 2000s to see a few hangers-on. Not knowing where they went, I started to feel bad for the last-standing homes. It was easy to see the vandalism and property damage that had encircled them. Residents gradually left their homes to be demolished. What was to come next? That is a question that has not been answered, but there have been attempts.

The Big Sink

Mr. Brown, a resident of Logan since the late 1970s, remembers the early morning explosion on February 14, 1986. He recounted to me how the middle of the block exploded, rudely waking him up. He was astonished as the fires consumed homes in full view of the neighborhood. He remembered learning that the ground had high levels of lead and how the City languished on the issue. What the area residents were now learning was a closely-held secret that had been swept under the rug for decades. Logan was sinking, and the incident was entirely man-made.

As detailed in Harold E. Cox’s 1972 book, Utility Cars of Philadelphia, 1892–1971, in 1906, 80 acres of the area known today as the Triangle and Roosevelt Boulevard were purchased by investors Wolf Brothers. It looked quite different from its current iteration. The boulevard had been built on an embankment to carry traffic across Wingohocking Creek and the North Penn Railroad. At that time, the land was 40 feet below grade.

Clarence Wolf, a financial advisor to former Mayor John E. Reyburn and a representative, and later vice president, for the City’s interests in the Pennsylvania Rapid Transit Co. (PRT), discovered an inexpensive way to fill in the area. Back then, the PRT was also in the trash business. Specialized Class P trolleys, referred to as “ash cars,” moved ash and rubbish from areas like Center City and South Philadelphia to an outlying dump, which just happened to be Wolf-owned land along the boulevard.

The dump was the site of frequent fires, yet this didn’t stop the decision to extend 9th Street through it. Filling in the area with miscellaneous and construction debris created a toxic mixture that was gradually exposed to soil and water, resulting in an unstable combination.

In 1959, the first signs that the homes were sinking began to appear. A cracked main on 9th Street was seeping gas into various homes along the boulevard. On October 30 of that year, three explosions and a fire devastated the neighborhood. The occupants described being home when their windows were blown out. Elderly residents made their way through smoke-filled living rooms to the middle of the street only to watch their homes burn. Another resident was returning from work when an explosion pushed her back. Upon regaining consciousness, she saw her home burning in front her. Her only thought was to find her grandmother and get to safety. Other residents experienced similar reactions to being thrown to the floor amid the confusion. They had only a few moments to get themselves together and flee to safety. In the aftermath of the explosions, there was scant news coverage. The gas main was repaired, and life moved on.

Moving Out

A thorough assessment in 1986 discovered that 957 homes were affected by subsidence issues. Hallmarks of the area became cracking foundations, warped floors, and sagging porches. The streets had an overall wobbly appearance. A walk down them required walking up and down bulging pockets.

The United States Geological Survey discovered that an estimated 500,000 cubic yards of coal ash were underneath the streets. The Army Corps of Engineers estimated that improvements would cost over $48 million.

In 1987, the Logan Assistance Corporation was created under then-Mayor Wilson Goode to assistance with relocation. Some of the remaining neighbors whose homes were regarded as “stable” do not have fond memories of that time. A current resident, who did not want to be named, stated, “If you didn’t want to go, they would 302 you.” The 302 label refers to being involuntary committed after being deemed a danger to oneself due to having mental health issues. “After a few days, they looked in on you during a welfare check. If you said yes, then they handed you over, but only after you paid back any dues to the city.” The neighbor went on to state that, in a few cases, families where not left with enough money to help with the move. In some cases, they were relocated to homes in worse shape than their original location. This process would continue until the early 2010s.

The Long Wait

From 1998 to 2013, planning studies were done to both assess the land and hone in on what could be done with it. During this time, the City acquired each property, yet formal plans were never solidified.

As the final homes where razed, the area became a dumping ground. Its proximity to the boulevard allowed for easy access, which, in many ways, brought it back to its original use as a dump. The Philadelphia Redevelopment Authority acquired the area in 2012. From that point forward, the goal would be to find a development company that could successfully deliver a plan to both transform and build on the land. In the meantime, the area was becoming an eye sore that attracted crime. During the summer months, trash was dumped in and around the empty streets, and it left a stench throughout the Triangle. Mattresses, toilets, and refuse filled the area as signs declaring the area a “work in progress” featuring a photograph of former Mayor John Street sat for six years after his term ended. In 2014, the Logan Community Development Corporation folded due to financial issues and some of its duties were transferred to the Nicetown CDC.

Initiatives to clean and better police the area with cameras had some success. Yet, old habits are hard to break. In 2018, City Councilmember Cindy Bass and the 8th District Trash Task Force witnessed a contractor dumping trash in the Triangle.

In 2015, The Goldenberg Group acquired the southwest corner in a bill to transfer ownership to develop the area. The cost was a single dollar. In 2018, plans were introduced to build a $25 million basketball recreation center that would include indoor courts, a library, and a computer lab. Additional details of the transfer reveal that The Goldenberg Group will have to donate $500,000 into a community fund throughout the project and for an additional 10 years after its completion.

Still Waiting

A visit to The Goldenberg Group’s website Pipeline page highlights a number of projects that have not gained any momentum. At the top of that list is the Triangle under the name Logan Point.

Multiple requests for comment sent to the firm’s development director have gone without a response. Similar inquiries to the Philadelphia Development Center (PHDC) only revealed that conversations were ongoing and that the final option period for an extension was set to expire in 2022. Requests to elaborate were denied.

The lack of updates and transparency has left neighbors with mixed feelings about the future of this project. Although I met with a number of people who were anticipating some sort of development, there were others who felt this was a plot to develop and gentrify the area. Someone made the comment to me, “They are trying to move us out to bring in white people.”

A few of the older residents do not see the point of a basketball development center when there are not many families with children in the area. Some of the ideas floated were along the lines of improving the area like a raised-bed neighborhood garden. Other suggestions were towards Black ownership of businesses that could improve the neighborhood by keeping money circulating in the area. Additional comments simply reflected a loss of faith in anything being done.

A constant talking point is the number of solicitation calls, mailers, and promotions to buy homes cheap. One resident referred to this as the South Philly Shuffle. He remembers when parts of South Philadelphia, Society Hill, and Northern Liberties were rough neighborhoods during Frank Rizzo’s term as mayor. He sees the lack of clarity on what is happening as a repeat of history and an elaborate ploy to get the current Black residents of Logan to move out and for new white residents to move in. He added that, at that point, work on the area will begin.

A Lost Cause?

The Triangle has found a new use as a truck stop. On any given day, vehicles are parked along the coordinator as its drivers hop into their personal cars and speed off. Recreational vehicles are usually found around the periphery to the annoyance of residents due to the headaches that come with them. Recently an RV caught on fire, while another was found stealing electricity from a few of the surrounding homes via extension cords.

Cracked pavements, newly dumped trash, and weeds growing through cracks have left people who need specialized vehicles for mobility as well as parents with baby carriages to struggle to navigate the streets due to the terrible shape of the sidewalks. An improvised car wash uses some of the space that was marked for the basketball center to service its customers. This is currently the only sign of Black ownership in the area.

A church sits on each end of the Triangle. One caters to a Black congregation, while the other is Hispanic. They exist as the last structures standing on earth stable enough to support them.

As for the residents of Logan, they wait patiently. The cycle of trash dumping and partial cleanups continue under the gaze of cameras. A feeling of ambivalence has set in. For many, including myself, Logan is a lost cause. It was built to fail, and it is too expensive to repair. Yet, other residents remain cautiously optimistic as they sit and wait and wonder if the plans for the area will sink before they ever come to pass.

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