Friedman — who has posted over 50,000 photos and videos of dogs (and their humans) online since 2013 — is hosting a meetup on Sunday morning on the Schuylkill Banks. Hundreds of hounds are expected to attend.
“We’re going to meet at the Schuylkill River Dog Park,” said Friedman, speaking via Zoom from his Manhattan apartment, “and then we’re going to walk along the river up to the Art Museum and climb the Rocky steps for a group photo.”
Friedman will be there with his dog, Elsa, the Instagram-famous white husky mix who was dog of honor at his 2025 wedding to Samantha Cutler, his fellow alum of Wynnewood’s Friends Central High School. The wedding was featured in the New York Times’ Vows column.
“It’s a little crazy for me,” said Friedman, “because I feel like I’m a prophet, or” — he laughs — “some sort of dog evangelist, where everybody’s gonna follow me. It’s like I’m leading a march.”
“It’s a very joyful thing to have people meet up around a shared love of dog. They get to know each other, and make a lot of connections. It’s an amazing show of the power of not just the dog community, but the Dogist community.”
Sunday’s walk with Friedman is part of a Dogist tour tied to the launch of the Dogist Company, a canine wellness brand whose first product is Vitality, which is advertised as a “Board-Certified Vet-formulated antioxidant chew that supports brain, joint and immune health.”
“It’s salmon flavored so a dog might consider it a treat,” Friedman says of the product he developed with veterinary nutritionist Angela Rollins, which is available at thedogistcompany.com. “But it’s not a treat, it’s a supplement.”
Elias Weiss Friedman, a.k.a. the Dogist, holds a package of his newly launched canine wellness brand, The Dogist Company’s Vitality supplement, during a Zoom interview.Dan DeLuca
“Everybody wants more years with their dog. But it’s also about having good years with your dog,” says Friedman, who credits Elsa, 6, as “chief wellness officer” on the Dogist Company website.
“I’ve spent the last 13 years of my life showing the world how amazing dogs are. So the next evolution of the Dogist ecosystem is creating products that make dogs’ lives better — because it’s the least we can do for them for all they do for us.”
“They’re based in Narberth where I grew up,” Friedman said. “They raise service dogs to work with teenagers and children who are clinically diagnosed with depression, or PTSD, or are on the autism spectrum.”
Friedman also has a show on YouTube — simply called Dogs — where he strolls around meeting pups with celebrities, such as actors Zooey Deschanel and Sarah Paulson, and comedians Roy Wood Jr. and Lewis Black.
Elias Weiss Friedman, photographer and founder of the Dogist, holds onto his dog named Elsa, while photographing Michael Rey and Rosie, in his childhood neighborhood on May 20, 2025, in Narberth.Monica Herndon / Staff Photographer
Last year, Jane Goodall was a guest in an episode recorded a week before her death. Meeting the English primatologist and anthropologist “was the biggest honor, probably, of my life,” said Friedman.
The Dogist origin story dates back to when he was a 2 year old and wandered away from his grandmother’s house in Narberth toward traffic on Montgomery Avenue. Oreo, his grandmother’s dutiful black Lab, kept him from walking into speeding traffic.
Most of the Dogist’s photos are taken in New York, but Friedman’s content-gathering travels have frequently brought him to Philadelphia, where he’s found four-legged subjects in Manayunk, Rittenhouse Square, and the Main Line.
“Negativity is easily found on the internet,” he said. “Dogs are an antidote or a respite to all that.”
At group meetups like Sunday’s — where walkers without dogs are also welcome — he can connect IRL with members of the digital Dogist community.
“I always enjoy going out and meeting people and talking to them about their dogs,” said Friedman, who has published three books including last year’sThis Dog Will Change Your Life.
“Dogs don’t have an ego, right?” he said. “They’re not burdened by one like we are. So part of the joy of seeing that they’re so free is that it allows us to transcend our ego for a few minutes. And that’s a very liberating experience.”
The Dogist Company Vitality Walk at Schuylkill River Park, 30 S. 25th St. at 10 a.m. on Sunday, Oct. 4, Instagram.com/thedogist
Ruth Weisberg, 70, formerly of Philadelphia, longtime award-winning radio, TV, and online news anchor, features reporter, and show host; onetime voice of Shadow Traffic, Bell Telephone, and other voice-over clients; voice-over instructor, writer, speaker, pianist, art model, actor, Miss Greater Philadelphia 1980, volunteer, and stand-up comedian, died Wednesday, Sept. 2, of ovarian cancer in an assisted living center in Sarasota, Fla.
Reared in Oxford Circle and a graduate of Northeast High School and Pennsylvania State University, Ms. Weisberg was a prolific media personality for nearly 50 years in Philadelphia and Florida. She was the radio voice of Shadow Traffic in the late 1970s and early 1980s, a news anchor and features reporter at WXTU, WCAU, WIFI, WPEN, and WSNI radio in the mid-1980s, and a radio, TV, and online talk show host from the late 1980s until recently.
She hosted Frank Talk With Frank Rizzo on WCAU radio in 1988 and ’89, and told The Inquirer in 1989 that working with the former mayor was like flying a “careening aircraft for three hours.” She also hosted Storytime and Show ’n Tell with Miss Ruthon local cable TV and online in 2015, and Funny You Should Ask, a radio show and podcast about comedy, in Florida in 2023.
Always drawn to the theater and drama, she started producing TV and radio shows while studying special education at Penn State in the 1970s, and wound up cohosting a local rock and roll radio show as a senior exchange student in England. “All of the sudden,” she told The Inquirer in 1989, “I had this new-found love of radio. I never pursued it. It just came calling.”
Ms. Weisberg reported on all kinds of lifestyle issues and earned radio awards from the Associated Press, the Philadelphia Press Association, and other groups. In 1994, she was named member of the year by the Philadelphia chapter of the International Television Association.
She called herself Miss Ruth and Ruth Weisberg Philly on Facebook and reveled in her constant innovation and free spirit. She told The Inquirer: “I like to think sometimes that God is laughing at me. I imagine Him shaking His head and saying: ‘Weisberg, what are you up to?’”
As a voice-over narrator and actor, she recorded corporate training videos, audiobooks, and radio and TV commercials. Bell Telephone hired her to record “We’re sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed” and other phone messages in 1985 because, a top official told her in a letter, her voice was “congenial yet persuasive.” She also taught voice-over classes for organizations and individuals, and mentored others on whatever she was doing wherever she worked.
She modeled for artists — some called her their “muse” — at art centers and colleges, and starred in a short video called The Accidental Art Model. “I love being part of a creative, imaginary, intrinsically artistic world,” she said in the video. “I would like to think of myself as the inspiration and the template for the work that happens.”
Ms. Weisberg co-hosted a talk with onetime Mayor Frank Rizzo in 1988 and 1989.WCAU Radio
Ms. Weisberg was drawn to beauty pageants, she said on Facebook, by the glitz and glamour. She was named Miss Central Pennsylvania as a Penn State freshman in 1975 and Miss Greater Philadelphia in 1980.
She held seminars on career networking, spoke to groups often about radio and voice-over work, and read stories to children in bookstores. She wrote op-eds for The Inquirer and articles for the Main Line Welcomat and other publications.
She posted videos on YouTube. She cohosted the 2001 Miss Greater Philadelphia Pageant. Former Daily News columnist Stu Bykofsky called her “both an eyeful and earful.”
Ms. Weisberg was featured in The Inquirer in 2016 (above) and 1989 (below).Newspapers.com
She also acted in local stage productions and performed stand-up comedy routines in brewpubs and restaurants and at gatherings. She was featured several times in The Inquirer and Daily News, and moved to Sarasota in 2016.
“My work motto is that I will accept any job position that does not require wearing a hair net,” she said in a 2016 online interview. Her family said in a tribute: “Her life and influence were an inspiration and a sparkle of joy to so many people.”
Ruth Maxine Weisberg was born May 31, 1956, in Philadelphia. She was a cheerleader, was active in theater class, and got straight A’s at Northeast High School.
She and her mother, Libby, volunteered to entertain people in hospitals and nursing homes when she was young, and she knocked on neighborhood doors for Democratic presidential nominee George McGovern when she was 16.
Her family spent memorable summers in Atlantic City, and she earned a bachelor’s degree in special education at Penn State.
She married Peter Kerch in 1988, and they had a daughter, Talia. After a divorce, she married James Herbert, and they had a son, Elliott. They divorced later.
Ms. Weisberg liked crossword puzzles, collected classic telephones, and attended concerts and beach drum circles. She was a certified scuba diver and wore a hat emblazoned with “The Queen of Everything.”
A Lower Merion businessman who raised $9 million from more than 50 Main Line, pro sports, and Hollywood investors for Kind Financial, his marijuana payment-processing business, was charged by federal prosecutors Tuesday with five counts of fraud.
The businessman, David Dinenberg, “fraudulently induced dozens of people into buying shares of Kind” by supplying false sales and business information, and “misleading the investors into believing that their entire investments were being used” for the company, not “diverted” for his personal use, according to charges filed in Philadelphia federal court. Dinenberg did not return calls seeking comment.
The U.S. Attorney also called on Dinenberg to forfeit $9 million prosecutors contend he had raised from investors by fraud.
But Snider and others who invested in Kind, then tried to keep the company going after the board confronted Dinenberg about his spending and he left in 2023, said Wednesday that they had no advance notice of the criminal charges.
David Dinenberg, who headed Kind Financial, hoped to serve cannabis growers at a time when few banks would do business with the industry. He has been charged with fraud and accused of embezzling.Kind Financial
Instead of using all the money to build his marijuana business, Dinenberg allegedly “embezzled” more than $750,000 to pay for “unauthorized personal expenditures,” including family members’ school tuition, a luxury California rental home, and country club memberships. Prosecutors say he lied to investors by exaggerating sales and prospects for Kind.
Dinenberg is also accused of stealing $175,000 from Rhode Island, which had hired Kind to collect cannabis fees from growers.
Prosecutors say Dinenberg was supposed to forward that money to the state, less a small transaction payment, but began keeping the fees, and reported money that should have gone to the state as company revenue.
Dinenberg started Kind in 2012 to process cannabis transactions that were legal in some states but prohibited under federal law. The legal complexity discouraged national banks from working with cannabis businesses, but also created what Dinenberg persuaded investors was an opportunity for his company to focus on serving legal-cannabis pioneers.
The prosecutors depict Dinenberg as a successful fundraiser who founded a series of related companies, hiring two friends and a “family connection” to run the business in 2014, and tapping each of the three employees to help fund Kind.
After the Microsoft deal, Kind won the Rhode Island contract. But Kind’s cash flow from the Rhode Island work was so meager that Dinenberg stopped paying his lawyers and stopped paying Kind employees — while keeping the tax and Social Security deductions he had withheld for them, prosecutors said.
Dinenberg issued glossy investor documents that projected sales of under $500,000 in 2016 would zoom to over $10 million in 2017 and $40 million in 2018 — with “no factual basis” for the unaudited financial reports, their “false” revenue data, and baseless projections, prosecutors allege.
In 2019, Dinenberg closed a business deal with pioneering cannabis investor Hartstreet Holdings and Colorado-based Herring Bank to develop a KindPay app to pay cannabis transactions through the Mastercard payment network, according to the prosecutor’s charges.
At first, it worked: “In 2020 and 2021, KindPay was working and some dispensaries even had KindPay kiosks” to enable sales, according to prosecutors.
But in 2021, Mastercard figured out that KindPay was used for marijuana sales, and cut the service off, according to prosecutors.
By 2023, Dinenberg had taken more than $750,000 from Kind bank accounts to cover personal expenses. Confronted by an employee, Dinenberg admitted he’d stolen money but claimed the total was $80,000, according to prosecutors. He resigned May 4 of that year.
Snider and other investors looked at ways to keep the company going, but its websites have since gone dark.
“The company has been defunct for some time, and it’s truly a shame what has happened,” said Snider in an email after learning of the charges. She declined further comment.
Together, our people helped advance laws that challenged discrimination in housing, employment, and education. Together, we supported initiatives that helped move our country closer to its highest ideals.
Rabbi Arthur Waskow (center) with the Rev. Channing Phillips (left) and TV director Topper Carew (right) at the first Freedom Seder held in April 1969, at Lincoln Temple United Church of Christ in Washington, D.C.Courtesy of the family
But in recent years, the relationship between the Black and Jewish communities has become strained, even as antisemitism and racism threaten us all.
That is why the two of us — each a rabbi from the Main Line — recently went to Georgia, along with dozens of clergy from across the country, for the Atlanta Summit of Black Pastors and Rabbis. We gathered at the Temple, Ebenezer Baptist Church, and the King Center, locations that made us recall the accomplishments and the sacrifices of the Black-Jewish alliance. We came to explore what is required to rebuild the partnership now.
Rabbi Geri Newburge stands outside The Main Line Reform Temple in Wynnewood in April 2020.JOSE F. MORENO / Staff Photographer
As we experienced firsthand, the Black and Jewish communities do not always understand each other. Views on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), Zionism, racial justice, power, and vulnerability can contrast sharply based on our personal experiences. But we were able to speak candidly about the times our communities had felt unseen or abandoned by each other.
One exchange brought those differences into focus.
Black participants described economic precarity following federal workforce cuts associated with the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) and attacks on DEI, particularly for Black women. Jewish participants spoke, in turn, of social precarity amid rising antisemitism. Hearing both made our shared responsibility clearer.
Those conversations led to the understanding that Black and Jewish Americans need an agreement against abandonment. It is a simple but demanding idea: When your community is threatened, ours will not disappear. When disagreement becomes painful, we will not walk away. We will listen, speak honestly, and doggedly refuse to give up on our relationships.
That does not mean we will see eye to eye on every issue. It means we will have the commitment to hear hard truths without turning disagreement into disdain.
Speakers like civil rights organizer Eric Ward helped us to understand how the challenges are interconnected. As he explained, many people understand antisemitism to just be the hatred of Jews, but in reality, it is also a conspiracy theory about how society works. Because antisemitic conspiracy theories ignore the real roots of societal issues — such as socioeconomic inequality and structural oppression — and instead focus on tropes and pat narratives, they help sustain racism and authoritarianism as well, creating a toxic blend that threatens both Black and Jewish communities.
The comments from Black Jews in attendance were, perhaps, most illuminating. Because they sometimes experience racism in Jewish spaces and antisemitism in Black spaces, their lives counter the perception of a neat division between “our community” and “theirs.” With their unique experiences, their voices must be central to the work ahead.
Political commentator Van Jones told those gathered for the Atlanta Summit of Black Pastors and Rabbis that a Black and Jewish alliance today must harness the diverse strengths each community possesses.Kathy Willens
Another speaker, political commentator Van Jones, cautioned that the alliance we are building cannot simply recreate the one from the 1960s. Back then, Jews were still reeling from the direct memory of the Holocaust, while Black Americans were still living under the restrictions of Jim Crow. That alliance grew from shared vulnerability, but the next iteration must harness the diverse strengths each community possesses today.
Jones invoked the image of a relay runner receiving and passing a baton. Honoring the generation that came before, he said, means accepting responsibility for the next leg of the race.
For us, that work begins right here in Greater Philadelphia.
Rabbi Eric Yanoff serves Adath Israel on the Main Line in Merion Station.Courtesy of Eric Yanoff.
We returned home committed to building and securing stronger relationships between the Black and Jewish communities before a crisis makes them necessary. We will come together with our colleagues in the Black Christian community and invite our congregations to learn from each other. We will create opportunities for shared study, worship, and community service. We will speak honestly about racism and antisemitism.
Ultimately, we will build the trust that allows us to call on each other when our communities are hurting.
Relationships require intention, humility, and time. They also require both communities to reject the idea that advocating for someone else diminishes our ability to defend our own people. We will not always see the world in the same way. But we can promise not to leave each other alone in it.
Rabbi Geri Newburge serves Main Line Reform Temple-Beth Elohim in Wynnewood. Rabbi Eric Yanoff serves Adath Israel on the Main Line in Merion Station.
Fifteen years ago, Chris Pieretti was just trying to get people to come around on compost.
Now, the Upper Darby resident and compost aficionado spends his days traversing the region in his truck, collecting a potpourri of food scraps in green buckets, and turning eggshells, banana peels, and coffee grounds intoa nutrient-rich, soil-like product.
Pieretti is behind Kitchen Harvest, which collects compostable materials and processes them on a five-acre site at Linvilla Orchards in Delaware County. Kitchen Harvest is, in Pieretti’s words, part of “a better, more sustainable future of a full-circle food system.”
It is part of a growing network of providers and composters across the Philadelphia region who are working to reduce waste and improve food system circularity, where scraps of food once grown in the Earth can return to it, fertilizing soil for new crops.
With Haverford Township debuting its municipal compost program this summer, joining Media and Swarthmore, among other municipalities, compost purveyors say the practice is breaking out of its crunchy origins and becoming a key part of the region’s waste management strategy.
Chris Pieretti holds a compost bag at Kitchen Harvest in Delaware County. Pieretti is working with local homes and municipalities to compost food scraps and yard waste. Jose F. Moreno / Staff Photographer
What is composting?
Composting is the process of recycling organic materials like food scraps and yard waste, breaking them down into a brown, soil-like material called compost, and using that material in farms and gardens to enrich other plants and crops.
The composting process happens on micro and macro scales — in small home gardens and at multi-acre sites like Kitchen Harvest’s.
Compost advocates tout both its environmental and agricultural benefits. In the U.S., food is the single most common material sent to landfills, where it is responsible for 58% of methane emissions, a powerful greenhouse gas, according to the Environmental Protection Agency. Adding compost to soil increases its nutrient content, conserves water by helping retain moisture, and reduces reliance on chemical fertilizers, the EPA says.
“Food is only wasted when we throw it in the trash. It’s our choice to dispose of it in that method, but we don’t have to,” said Gwenn Nolan, founder of Mother Compost, a company that collects compost material throughout the Philly suburbs and brings it to the Kitchen Harvest site at Linvilla.
Going from ‘crunchy’ to ‘waste management strategy’
Many compost enthusiasts have a similar story: What started as a backyard experiment grew, through trial and error, into a way of life and, for some, a career.
Nolan, of Mother Compost, got her start asking 10 friends on the Main Line to try composting so she could test demand for a compost collection service. She bought a small truck, picking up the bins of food scraps early in the morning before heading to her job in financial services. After the pandemic, residential demand ballooned, and Nolan made Mother Compost her full-time job. Now, the company serves around 1,500 homes; schools including Bryn Mawr College and Villanova University; culinary institutions including Reading Terminal Market; and corporate offices.
Nolan collects compost in her truck and carts it out to Pieretti, whom she calls “the master mixologist,” for processing.
“It’s really exciting to see the commercial side and the institutional side coming online as well,” Nolan said. “It’s becoming more a piece of the waste management strategy than just this kind of crunchy, environmental practice that I think people thought about it before.”
Kate Jacoby, who runs Center City vegan restaurant Vedge with her husband, Rich Landau, is one of Nolan’s loyal customers. Jacoby began composting in her small Philadelphia backyard during the pandemic, expanding her home compost operation when the couple moved to Chester County in 2021 and, eventually, bringing composting to the Vedge kitchen.
“I get such a satisfaction knowing that it’s going to go into the soil and it’s not going to sit in a landfill,” Jacoby said.
Foods scraps like banana peels, onion skins, and lemons are turned into compost. JESSICA GRIFFIN / Staff Photographer
An expanding suburban compost network
As compost accessibility grows, so, too, does the number of municipal governments offering compost services to residents.
“The community at-large really supported the idea, and the participation was really high,” Pieretti said of Media.
Many suburban programs have followed in the footsteps of Bennett Compost, which has been serving the city of Philadelphia since 2009.
Lower Merion in 2025 debuted both a community drop-off and a curbside pickup pilot program through Mother Compost and Bennett Compost. Swarthmore Borough launched a curbside compost program through EZComposting in January.
When Haverford Township launched its Kitchen Harvest partnership this summer, Pieretti felt like he had “won the compost championship.”
In July, Haverford Township collected 162 tons of organic material, an increase of 111 tons from last July, according to township manager Dave Burman, who called the program “pretty successful.” The township also collected 141 fewer tons of trash this July than the year prior.
Haverford Township’s program is optional, with no additional cost or registration process for residents.
“We’ve tried to make it as easy as we could for people to participate, and so far, so good,” Burman said.
Buckets of finished compost at the Kitchen Harvest site at Linvilla Orchards. Jose F. Moreno / Staff Photographer
At its best, proponents say, compost creates a circular system. Much of Kitchen Harvest’s compost product is used by Linvilla Orchards to feed the crops, and composters can buy back bags of the finished product at a discounted rate.
Sarah Linvill, team member at Linvilla, said the farm is grateful to work with Kitchen Harvest and to “be hosts for that kind of work.”
Composting services are “just invaluable to the community,” Linvill said.
Nolan called Linvilla “a tremendous resource for the region” when it comes to compost.
Composters like Jacoby, of Vedge, say they now cannot imagine a world where they simply toss an apple core into the trash.
“If you really, really dig down and want to get kind of philosophical about it,” Jacoby said, “when your soil is healthy and it’s full of nutrients, you’re going to have better-tasting food for yourself to consume.”
This suburban content is produced with support from the Leslie Miller and Richard Worley Foundation and The Lenfest Institute for Journalism. Editorial content is created independently of the project donors. Gifts to support The Inquirer’s high-impact journalism can be made at inquirer.com/donate. A list of Lenfest Institute donors can be found at lenfestinstitute.org/supporters.
Standing among paint cans and plywood at 102 Forrest Ave., the Narberth storefront soon to become a bespoke retail and gathering space, Kurland laid out her vision for a hub grounded in crafts, community, and whimsy.
“People want a place to hang out,” said Kurland, a Narberth resident and former corporate events leader. “They want just a different energy and something to do.”
Kurland, 52, is preparing to open Jeneral Store, a shop modeled after an old-style general store that will stock fresh flowers, art supplies, curated home goods, and penny candy. Jeneral Store will also be a space for people to craft, commune, and in Kurland’s words, “hang out.” The shop, set to open in October, is moving into the former home of Danny’s Guitar Shop, an independent guitar store and lesson center that closed in May after 17 years.
Jeneral Store will have a craft counter modeled like a deli counter, where shoppers will be able to order craft supplies à la carte, and will stock what Kurland calls “everyday special” goods, including curated vintage and new household items and pick-your-own flower bouquets in upcycled vases.
“It’s a little bit of everything,” Kurland said.
All net proceeds will be donated to organizations that support LGBTQ+ individuals, according to Kurland, who said it’s important for her to help make everyone feel “safe and welcome and thriving.” Kurland has been meeting with organizations but has not yet finalized a list of groups Jeneral Store will be donating to, she said.
Jen Kurland is set to open Jeneral Store next month. Aidan T. Gallo / Staff Photographer
Kurland grew up in Havertown (coincidentally a half block from the childhood home of Dan Gold of Danny’s Guitar Shop). After graduating from the University of Delaware, she moved to New York City, where she spent the next 30 years building a career in events and brand strategy. In the summer of 2024, she and her family moved “home” to the Philadelphia area, landing in Narberth last summer.
With the move to the Main Line, Kurland took a step back from her corporate career and found quickly that she was seeking a creative outlet and a way to give back. When Gold announced he was closing up shop, Kurland saw an opening.
While launching Jeneral Store is a novel venture, Kurland said three decades in the world of events and marketing has prepared her to introduce a new community space to town. In addition to the retail component of Jeneral Store, Kurland hopes to host craft nights, workshops, and other events, depending on what the community has an appetite for. She said she recognizes the growing desire for “third spaces” — places where people can gather and commune, outside of work or the home.
“My core of what I’ve always done is bringing people together,” she said.
This suburban content is produced with support from the Leslie Miller and Richard Worley Foundation and The Lenfest Institute for Journalism. Editorial content is created independently of the project donors. Gifts to support The Inquirer’s high-impact journalism can be made at inquirer.com/donate. A list of Lenfest Institute donors can be found at lenfestinstitute.org/supporters.
Before you can understand Abington Township’s historically African American unincorporated community of Crestmont, you have to understand Willow Grove Park.
Not the mall with that name, but the Willow Grove Park that predates it: One of the largest and most famous amusement parks on the East Coast.
It opened in 1896, built by the Philadelphia Rapid Transit Co. It had roller coasters, a lake, restaurants, concerts, a massive music pavilion, and crowds pouring in.
It shaped the entire local economy and brought thousands of people out to the suburbs every week. A place like that needed labor. Real labor. Constant labor. And that’s where Crestmont’s story begins.
The “Welcome to Crestmont” sign sits directly across from the Willow Grove Mall.DJ Atkins
I didn’t grow up in Glenside or Willow Grove. I came out here for work, almost 15 years ago, and eventually I moved here. Eight years living in these suburbs gives you time to notice things, to ask questions, to wonder about the layout of the place. And one question kept coming back to me: Why is Crestmont, a mostly Black community, sitting right in the middle of overwhelmingly white suburbs?
If you know the area, you know exactly what I mean. Roslyn, Glenside, Willow Grove, Abington … they’re all majority white, and have been that way for generations.
Then suddenly, right next to the Willow Grove Mall parking lot, there’s Crestmont.
Houses closer together. A different feel. A different history. A different story.
Crestmont’s density, the layout, the architecture, the vibe, the community identity — all of it comes from early working‑class development, limited access to loans, limited access to improvements, township decisions, generational continuity, racial boundaries, economic exclusion, and the strength of the people who lived there, writes DJ Atkins.DJ Atkins
I started talking about Crestmont to people who grew up here. I started learning about Willow Grove Park, looking at the geography, thinking about the era, and the truth became impossible to ignore.
It’s a truth all of us need to hear, because it shows exactly how racism shapes the places we live.
Willow Grove Park opened only 31 years after slavery ended. That was the same year Plessy v. Ferguson legalized segregation. Old newspaper coverage, township references, and public history written about the park all describe a large-scale operation with ties to the trolley company, township officials, police, contractors, and local business owners.
A machine like that needed workers who could show up every day, early, late, and in all seasons. Black workers came to fill Willow Grove Park jobs and stayed because the work kept coming. In line with what the public record shows, people with long family histories in Crestmont talked to me about how common it was for their relatives and neighbors to all work at the park.
A vintage postcard showing the Willow Grove Park midway. Willow Grove Park opened in 1896; it was closed in 1975 and demolished a year later.Courtesy of D.J. Atkins
But many of those workers didn’t have cars, and walking through certain neighborhoods wasn’t safe. Black people weren’t welcome. Renting was restricted, and loans for home purchases were denied. Still, the workers needed to live close. Close to the park, close to the trolley line, close to the commercial strip that fed the park.
Exactly where Crestmont is.
Once a few Black families moved in, the neighborhood took shape. Word spread. More families followed. White buyers stayed away. Black buyers were directed toward the same area. The lots stayed small. The houses stayed close. The community grew through necessity, connection, and resilience.
People who grew up here remember the tensions between high schoolers. They remember buying packaged goods in Crestmont because they couldn’t get them elsewhere. They remember the social boundaries. They remember how Crestmont stood out from the surrounding suburbs. None of that is random. It’s the long-term result of how the neighborhood began.
Crestmont exists because Willow Grove Park existed. Segregation created the boundary. The park created the need. Together, they created the neighborhood.
One of the homes in Crestmont, photographed in 2026.DJ Atkins
Crestmont isn’t unique.
Across the country, Black neighborhoods formed near major employers because segregation blocked housing everywhere else.
In Ardmore, Black families lived near the railroad and the estates they worked in. In Bryn Mawr, the Black neighborhood grew beside the service corridors of the Main Line mansions. In Atlantic City, Black workers lived near the Boardwalk hotels they kept running. In Pittsburgh’s Hill District, Black families settled near the steel mills and rail yards. In Baltimore, Black neighborhoods formed beside the shipyards and factories.
Wherever a big employer needed labor, and wherever white neighborhoods refused to open their doors, a Black community formed in the one pocket where the pressure made it possible — and they look the way they do today because of their origins.
One of the homes in Crestmont, an unincorporated community in Abington Township that owes its existence to Willow Grove Park and to housing segregation in the surrounding communities.DJ Atkins
Crestmont’s density, the layout, the architecture, the vibe, the community identity — all of it comes from early working‑class development, limited access to loans, limited access to improvements, township decisions, generational continuity, racial boundaries, economic exclusion, and the strength of the people who lived there.
It’s not a mystery. It’s not random. It’s not accidental. It’s a product of American racism and Black survival.
People around here know Crestmont. But they don’t necessarily know its origin or see in it an example of how racism shapes geography and how Black communities build life anyway.
Once you see that, you can’t unsee it.
DJ Atkins is a Philly‑area DJ, radio host, and cultural writer. He also works in poetry, blending storytelling, music, and community history in his creative work.
In our quest to keep you up to date on the restaurant scene, here are 12 spots that opened in the last few months. One example is Ogyu (shown above), which took over Ardmore’s former Iron Hill Brewing. It’s a grill-it-yourself Japanese steakhouse from the owner of the nearby Osushi.
You have to be in shape to lug around 100-pound salmon and tuna. Kiki Aranita found a group of sushi chefs who routinely lift weights. As they say in the maki game: no pain, no grain.
A couple didn’t want their local drinking spot to shut down for good. Sarah Nicell writes that they found a solution: They bought it.
The lines are long, and the branding is adorable. Kiki Aranita visits Kyo Matcha in Chinatown.
Pinot grigio is wildly popular for a good reason, and wine writer Marnie Old explains where the best ones come from.
Poe is expanding
Sandwichmeister N.A. Poe will expand the hours of his kitchen operation at Poison Heart next week while preparing to open a new Poe’s Sandwich Joint location by the end of the year.
Starting Tuesday, Poe’s will operate seven days a week out of Poison Heart, 931 Spring Garden St., where he’s run the cocktail bar’s kitchen since last September. Daytime service will be pickup, takeout, and delivery only; Poison Heart itself will not open for daytime bar or dine-in service.
Poe, the nom de plume of Richard Tamaccio Jr., is not disclosing the new joint’s location or opening date. “We look forward to the freedom to do things our way without interference or apologies,” he said.
The move follows Poe’s split with Human Robot Brewing Co., where he had operated since 2019. His last day at Human Robot’s Kensington location is Thursday. Cantina La Martina will take over Human Robot’s kitchens at both Kensington and Brewerytown. Poe also parted company with the Monto, a new Old City bar.
At Poison Heart, Poe’s will operate from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. Sunday through Tuesday and 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday. Poison Heart’s regular Wednesday-through-Saturday evening service will continue, with Poe’s classics and specials added to the menu.
Two tasty bright spots of a staycation for Emily Bloch and her boyfriend included hamachi collar and poolside swordfish skewers. In other words: There’s great fish to be had in Fishtown.
Scoops
Old Friend, an upscale restaurant with a wood-fired grill and a chef with a Center City pedigree, is coming to the Main Line later this year.
Corte, on its way to the former East Market home of Mulherin’s Pizza, will have an Italian backbone, focusing on handmade pasta and cooking from the wood-fired oven. If that sounds like University City’s Corio, that’s because the same crew is behind it.
Big Charlie’s Saloon, the nationally known Kansas City Chiefs-theme bar in South Philadelphia that closed with the owner’s death last December, is under agreement of sale. The buyers’ plans don’t include NFL memorabilia.
Restaurant report
We’re in a New York state of mind:
Dorade asado and pork belly al pastor (shown above) are two dishes offered at the new Mixteca, the Kensington offshoot of a Manhattan agave-focused coctelería from two James Beard Award-winning bartenders. Beatrice Forman heads to the former Martha for a look around.
Smash burgers and fries are the hook at 7th Street Burger, a fast-growing Manhattan-based burger chain that just opened the first of four Philadelphia-area locations in Fishtown. Kiki Aranita takes a bite.
Briefly noted
Jose Pistola’s 19-year run in Center City has ended. Its related bars in Fishtown and South Philadelphia are unaffected.
Mount Masala Himalayan Cuisine (300 White Horse Rd., Voorhees) will host a Nepal disaster-relief fundraiser on Thursday, Sept. 10 from 5 p.m. to closing under the auspices of South Jersey Food Scene. It’s a $25 buffet of Nepali-Himalayan dishes for dine-in or takeout, with all sales donated to the Nepalese government for flood relief.
🥂 New Jersey has permanently allowed the sale and delivery of to-go alcoholic beverages in towns that permit it.
Ask Mike anything
Did Philip Korshak ever open his store, Korshak Picnic Provisions? — Joan M.
Back in February, Phil Korshak, the poet-baker who left town in 2023 after closing his cult-favorite Korshak Bagels, thought he’d open his quirky corner store at 13th and Reed Streets by May. However, “you have no idea how many contractors, electricians, and plumbers go to Europe and Japan in the summertime,” he told me in June. This week, Korshak said the store — now called Korshak Parkside Provisions — is in the health department inspections queue and he’s expecting equipment deliveries. “Let’s call it October,” he told me.
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If you spent the summer out of town (or off the grid), you may have missed a busy few months on the restaurant scene. Philadelphia-area newcomers include a Milan-inspired aperitivo bar in Rittenhouse, Japanese barbecue on the Main Line, and two corner bars in Point Breeze.
Here are 12 noteworthy restaurants that opened in the last few months.
Academy Grill (424 S. Bethlehem Pike, Fort Washington): This white-tablecloth restaurant in the former Cantina Feliz near Germantown Academy serves house-made pastas, seafood, steaks, and contemporary American dishes in a polished, decidedly grown-up setting.
Bánh xèo at Anh Em, 1252 S. 21st St.Michael Klein / Staff
Anh Em (1252 S. 21st St.): Pho, bánh xèo, and 24 local beers meet at Anh Em, a Vietnamese bar-restaurant at 21st and Titan Streets in Point Breeze from Victor Nguyen and Anna Huynh. Nguyen draws on dishes the husband-and-wife team grew up eating, while the 20-seat bar gives the neighborhood spot an unusually deep commitment to locally brewed beer.
Bar Cicci (1620 Sansom St.): Ellen Yin’s 30-seat, Milan-inspired spot starts with espresso and Italian pastries, moves into sandwiches at lunch, then shifts to spritzes, wine, cicchetti, and small plates at night. The Rittenhouse newcomer is High Street Hospitality’s take on northern Italy’s all-day aperitivo culture.
Bluebird Distilling in Phoenixville.Photos courtesy of Ed Newton
Bluebird Distilling & Dough House (100 Bridge St., Phoenixville): A $2.2 million investment turned Bluebird’s Bridge Street distillery into a full-fledged restaurant. Executive chef Devon Migeot, whose resumé includes Zahav and Laser Wolf, centers the expanded food program on naturally fermented neo-Neapolitan pizzas, house-baked breads, shareable plates, and, naturally, Bluebird cocktails.
Silenia and John Rhoads, owners of the Buttery in Bryn Mawr.Allie Ippolito / For The Inquirer
The Buttery (836 W. Lancaster Ave., Bryn Mawr): John and Silenia Rhoads’ third location is an 82-seat bakery-cafe on Lancaster Avenue, where the Malvern-incepted operation’s sourdough breads and house-made pastries share the menu with breakfast dishes, sandwiches, and seasonal fare from its all-day scratch kitchen.
Known Associates at 10th and Spruce Streets.Allie Ippolito / For The Inquirer
Known Associates ( 941 Spruce St.): Chef Christopher Kearse’s Washington Square West cocktail bar does not treat the food as an afterthought. The former Varga Bar at 10th and Spruce is a 40-seat room where cocktails accompany a concise, European-influenced menu of a dozen savory dishes.
Lillian’s at 19th and Mifflin Streets.Monica Herndon / Staff Photographer
Lillian’s (1900 S. 19th St.): Even the chef isn’t permanent at Sam Ahern’s parlorlike cocktail bar/bistro at 19th and Mifflin Streets, whose kitchen rotates among guest chefs. The residency model gives each cook a temporary restaurant within the restaurant — and gives this Point Breeze newcomer an ever-changing menu.
Saif Manna works on a pavlova at Manna Bakery.Monica Herndon / Staff Photographer
Manna Bakery (110 W. Berks St.): Five years and countless farmers market appearances later, Saif Manna’s Temple dorm room project has moved into the former Essen Bakery in Kensington. Manna draws on his Palestinian heritage for Levantine pastries and savory dishes in a comfy cafe setting.
Mr. Edison in the Bellevue Hotel.Monica Herndon / Staff Photographer
Mr. Edison (1400 Walnut St.): There’s a Ferris wheel carrying liquor behind the bar at Mr. Edison, which gives some idea of the production. Veteran restaurateur Jeffrey Chodorow’s Philadelphia debut is a theatrical Bellevue supper club where chef Matt Levin’s cooking shares a two-story room with live music, dramatic lighting, and plenty of visual spectacle.
Ogyu Japanese BBQ in Ardmore.Jose F. Moreno / Staff Photographer
Ogyu Japanese BBQ (60 Greenfield Ave., Ardmore): Sam Li turned Ardmore’s former Iron Hill Brewery into a sprawling yakiniku restaurant built around the grill at each table. Diners cook wagyu and other meats themselves — or enlist a server — choosing among fixed-price packages and à la carte options in a dramatically remodeled space with private dining rooms and a full bar.
The latke, egg, and cheese sandwich at Schmaltz.Aidan T. Gallo / Staff Photographer
Schmaltz (1300 S. 18th St.): This Jewish-inspired breakfast-and-lunch cafe serves latkes, cheese blintzes, egg sandwiches — and no bagels. Jeremy Asch and Abby Armstrong opened the Point Breeze corner spot with chef Sam Chertock, whose deliberately compact menu includes latke, egg, and cheese sandwiches on house-baked English muffins.
Outdoor dining at Soufiane at the Morris.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff Photographer
Soufiane at the Morris (225 S. Eighth St.): The 1787 Morris House provides a peaceful backdrop for Soufiane Boutliliss’ French-Moroccan cooking, served in a secluded stone courtyard shaded by magnolias and dogwoods in Washington Square West. This is the second restaurant from the Moroccan-raised Boutliliss and husband Christophe Mathon of Sofi Corner Cafe.
If you have ever considered giving up your car, now is the time.
There’s the price of gasoline, which has shot up by more than 35% since President DonaldTrump launched the war against Iran in February. Even if you never start the ignition, simply owning a car will now set you back an average of $8,000 a year in insurance, maintenance, and loan payments.
And those are just the immediate costs. As a major source of greenhouse gases, cars contribute significantly to climate change, which is already pushing up the price of food and everyday purchases.
So, let’s say you’re ready to ditch your money pit on wheels. Then what?
I’ve been struggling with this question since I moderated a panel this spring with Sarah Goodyear and Doug Gordon, the duo from the popular podcast The War on Cars, who just published a rousing call to arms, Life After Cars: Freeing Ourselves from the Tyranny of the Automobile. The event, held at the capacious Resurrection Philadelphia church in Center City, was sponsored by Philly Bike Action and 5th Square Advocacy, two groups dedicated to promoting alternatives to driving.
Resurrection’s sanctuary was packed — with the converted. When Goodyear and Gordon asked the audience who had traveled to the event by car, only a few sheepish hands went up.
While their bookdoes a great job of detailing the ways cars “ruin everything,” there is little in it to help the car-dependent kick the habit. The problem is, most people have no idea where to start.
Even in the Philadelphia region, which has better-than-average transit and cycling infrastructure, the prospect of living without a car can seem a little like trying to swim without arms and legs. How will you take the kids to sporting events, look after elderly parents, and buy groceries without a vehicle? Our local transit services — SEPTA, NJ Transit, and PATCO — don’t serve every nook and cranny of the region and don’t run as frequently as they should.
Like everything else in America these days, the debate over the role of cars in our daily lives tends toward extremes. Philadelphia urbanists can sometimes come off as unsympathetic, as if they expect people to go cold turkey and swap their vehicles for bikes and SEPTA. Meanwhile, the pro-car lobby keeps insisting, against the evidence, that the car-free life is not practical outside a few transit-rich neighborhoods, like Center City.
But who says it has to be all or nothing?
‘Habituate walking’
My advice: Keep your car — for now, at least — but look for opportunities to get around by other means. Walk to the grocery store. Ride a bike to dinner at a nearby restaurant. Think of these excursions as a trial run. Once you feel comfortable, take the train or bus to work. You may never give up your car permanently, but you will save a bundle on gas and maintenance, reduce congestion, and boost your step count.
That’s how Jane Murray started weaning herself from the car. The Ardmore resident, who now runs a popular Instagram account called @Janewalksardmore, first began taking long walks as a way toexperience her Main Line town on a deeper level. To give shape to her Instagram project, she decided to visit every block in Ardmore and document her travels.
Jane Murray walks along Lancaster Avenue in downtown Ardmore, as part of a project to to walk every street in the Main Line town.Alejandro A. Alvarez / Staff Photographer
The more she walked, the more comfortable she felt leaving her car at home. She now wheels a “granny cart” to Trader Joe’s, a 15-minute walk from her house. Not long ago, she hopped a SEPTA bus to meet friends for quizzo in a pub a few towns away. At the end of the night, she took an Uber home.
Murray’s kids still have to take a bus the four miles to their middle school and she drives them to distant sporting events, but makes a conscious effort to “habituate walking” into her routine. Before leaving the house, she checks her transit apps to see if she can get to her destination without driving. Sometimes, she mixes it up: When she’s running errands, she’ll drive part of the way, then walk the last few blocks. Her Instagram has inspired her neighbors, who pepper her for tips about safe walking routes.
A mobility menu
Living in America without a car is often portrayed as a hardship, something that people on the margins are forced to endure. But, for me, living without a car has been a joy.
I didn’t know what to expect when I impulsively decided to get rid of my aging clunker 30 years ago after being presented with an expensive repair bill. Before then, I had rarely taken taxis or splurged on Amtrak to visit family in New York. Since I would no longer have to pay for car insurance, I promised to allow myself those indulgences. My husband and I were living in Center City, which certainly made our experiment more doable. (I should mention that I was pregnant at the time. I took a taxi to and from the hospital.)
Besides saving a lot of money, not having a car has liberated me in ways I never could have imagined. Bike lanes were virtually nonexistent in Philadelphia in the ’90s; today my bicycle is my main form of transportation. Thanks to the city’s mostly flat terrain, I can easily cycle to interviews and events in far-flung neighborhoods. My ride is equipped with side baskets, allowing me to do my grocery shopping by bike. When my destination is beyond biking distance, or when I have to look presentable, I’ll take SEPTA or reserve a Zipcar from the local car-sharing company. In a pinch, I can always summon an Uber, a Lyft, or a taxi. I still walk a lot, and it’s no exaggeration to say I run into people I know on every outing.
The key here is to think of mobility as a menu of options, rather than a car/no-car binary. While low-speed electric bikes have made it easier to cover long distances, not everyone can, or wants to, bike. Even transit can be daunting for a novice. The fear of crime also deters some people from using SEPTA, even though serious incidents have fallen dramatically in the last decade.
In 2022, Councilmember Mark Squilla (center), former Eagle Connor Barwin, Councilmember Kendra Brooks, and Councilmember Helen Gym took part in a Bike to Work Day event sponsored by the Bicycle Coalition of Greater Philadelphia to promote cycling as a means of transportation.JESSICA GRIFFIN / Staff Photographer
Eden MacDougall vividly remembers his trepidation when he started commuting from Langhorne, in Bucks County, to Temple University on SEPTA’s Regional Rail. “I kept thinking, how will I know it’s my stop?”
By the time MacDougall graduated in 2022, he was a super-commuter. To get to his new job at Mastery Charter School, where he is an AmeriCorps reading instructor, he had to use three forms of transportation: He started his day by biking two miles from his home to the Langhorne station. After taking a SEPTA train to Fern Rock, he changed to the Broad Street subway, getting off at Erie. The trip took an hour and 45 minutes, but MacDougall, who never learned to drive, loved it. “I’d open up my book and read the whole way.”
Stephen Bronskill, coalition manager for Transit Forward Philadelphia, shows incoming Temple University students how to navigate SEPTA during a tour organized at the start of the new semester. Bastiaan Slabbers / For The Inquirer
Now he lives in Philadelphia and volunteers as an instructor for Transit Forward Philadelphia and the Bicycle Coalition of Greater Philadelphia, which run Saturday tours to help people feel more confident riding SEPTA. Although the events provide practical advice, like how to use a transit app, they’re intended to be fun excursions. MacDougall recently shepherded a group from Roxborough to the Clark Park farmers market, showing them how to change from the Route 9 bus to a West Philadelphia trolley. Along the way, the group got to see SEPTA’s efficient new Wissahickon Transit Center on Ridge Avenue, where 11 bus routes converge.
The two groups, which have been lobbying the state legislature to help SEPTA secure much-needed state funding, started the Saturday tours as an extension of their advocacy work. They believe the exposure to SEPTA’s system can help reset public perceptions.
SEPTA’s new Wissahickon Transportation Center on Ridge Avenue in Manayunk is a major upgrade for the city’s bus riders. The sprawling, $50 million station opened in January 2026 and allows 5,000 passengers a day to switch between 11 bus lines. (photographeed Aug. 2026)Inga Saffron / For The Inquirer
“People had a lot of negative experiences during the pandemic,” Julio Rodriguez, the Bicycle Coalition’s policy director, told me. So, when SEPTA announced it was implementing its long-awaited schedule changes this summer, the transit advocates saw a chance to change the conversation.
Helping SEPTA boost ridership isn’t their only goal, however. Because they believe fewer cars will make Philadelphia a safer, more livable city, they’re organizing similar outings to get people comfortable with bike commuting.
Changing habits
Even while these advocates are gaining adherents, many skeptics remain convinced people will never give up their cars.
But the public’s cheerful response to this summer’s car-free celebrations around Philadelphia suggests that habits can change. Almost 600,000 people converged for World Cup watch parties at Lemon Hill in Fairmount Park during the 39-day FIFA Fan Festival — even though parking was banned. After the games ended, I saw hundreds of people streaming along the Schuylkill River Trail to 30th Street Station, a distance of 1.5 miles. Thousands took transit, rode bikes, or walked to the Ben Franklin Bridge to celebrate its centennial in July.
Thousands of people took transit, biked, or walked on July 11 to parade across the Ben Franklin Bridge to celebrate the 100th anniversary of its opening.Elizabeth Robertson / Staff Photographer
For people who switch to alternative forms of transportation, the payback is immediate. But Philadelphia and the region also have much to gain from having fewer cars racing through the streets: cleaner air, less noise, more casual social encounters with neighbors, and less wear-and-tear on infrastructure
The impact on climate change is a different story. Individual actions can only do so much to slow the dramatic shifts in global weather. It’s also a frustrating chicken-and-egg situation. People won’t see car-free living as truly feasible until there is intensive government investment in transit, bike infrastructure, and pedestrian safety.
Until that happens, carry a fare card, sign up for car-share, install a transit app on your phone — and don’t forget to wear ahelmet.
