“When I turned 80,” Andrea Preis said, “our sons told me, ‘It’s time for you and Dad to downsize and move into a place that is more manageable.’ So we did.”
So in 2024, Andrea and husband Eran Preis moved from a four-bedroom home in Queen Village, where they lived for 26 years, to a two-bedroom condo in Bella Vista.
Andrea had no room for her collection of framed embroidery, her cookbooks, art books, albums of photos taken on trips all over the world, dishes, a painted cupboard, and other treasures.
“I had to force myself,” she said, to part with beloved objects. “It made me sick. It was so hard.”
A wedding memento embroidered by Andrea Preis’ grandmother hangs in the basement of the home.Erin Blewett / For The InquirerAndrea Preis touches a cabinet at the front of the home, adorned with some of the items she has collected.Erin Blewett / For The Inquirer
Eran, who gave away stacks of books, was less nostalgic. “We needed to be on one level and our house was starting to fall apart,” he said.
Andrea had a house sale and later set out a table in front of her old home with items people took for free. “When I finally put away the table a woman knocked on the door wondering where everything was,” she recalled.
The couple’s condo comprises the first floor and basement of the three-story rowhouse and was renovated 20 years ago. The ground floor features a sitting area, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, and a tiny garden. In the basement there is another bedroom, bathroom, and sitting room.
Though she purged half of her furnishings, Andrea kept favorites such as an elaborately carved antique buffet with brass fittings. Over the front door hang vintage Hanukkah oil lamps from Spain and Italy. White painted and exposed brick walls are hung with abstract art.
Andrea Preis points to vintage Hanukkah oil lamps from Spain and Italy hanging above the front door.Erin Blewett / For The InquirerA painting created by the couple’s son hangs in the stairwell.Erin Blewett / For The Inquirer
Several paintings are by Andrea and her son Abner. Her cousin Harriet Quick painted the swirls of green, gold, and orange on a white background.
The sitting area has two blue couches from Macy’s, two leather slingback chairs from a nearby furniture store, and a Persian rug from Material Cultures.
The living room walls are covered in art, echoed by brightly colored throw blankets and pillows.Erin Blewett / For The Inquirer
The kitchen’s pumpkin accent wall is decorated with over a dozen artfully arranged plates. Several of them, depicting whimsical women’s faces, were crafted by Andrea, a talented ceramicist and painter. Walnut double doors conceal a commodious pantry.
The queen-sized bed just fits in the bedroom, papered in an oversize leaf pattern. A poster of Henri Rousseau’s Eve in the Garden of Eden continues the leaf motif.
Andrea gave her dining table, which seated 14, to a family of 10. She now uses three folding tables, which seat 12, when she entertains.
The couple stand in their kitchen. Erin Blewett / For The InquirerThe bedroom design includes a bold wallpaper and a print of a Henri Rousseau painting.Erin Blewett / For The InquirerA photograph showing the building when it was used as a store in the early 20th century. The image has been passed down from one homeowner to the next, Preis said.Erin Blewett / For The InquirerCeramic plates hanging on the wall above the kitchen include some Andrea Preis made herself.Erin Blewett / For The Inquirer
One new treasure from previous owners is a photo of the rowhouse when it was Arno & Pagano’s grocery store in the early 1900s.
During the building’s renovation, the exterior cellar door was replaced with a window to add light. Andrea did not want to tend fish in the former owner’s aquarium in the stairwell under the window. She replaced it with an array of fabric dolls in colorful costumes from around the world.
The basement sitting room is furnished with a love seat, two striped chairs, and a pullout couch for visiting family. Andrea and Eran have three sons and four grandchildren.
Bookshelves are filled with travel souvenirs and there is a large television.
Next to Eran’s basement desk hangs a poster for Beyond the Walls, an Israeli movie he cowrote. The prison drama was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Film in 1984.
Andrea, who grew up in Akron, Ohio, met Eran in his native Israel when she was living on a kibbutz. They married in 1969 and lived in Israel for 17 years, where Eran was a playwright and screenwriter for Israeli television, theater, and films.
The basement is where the couple enjoy watching movies with friends.Erin Blewett / For The InquirerDecor in the basement, including several books, though Eran gave away much of his collection when the couple moved.Erin Blewett / For The Inquirer
After earning a Master’s in Fine Arts from Ohio University, he taught at Midwestern universities before joining Temple University’s faculty in the late 1990s. He retired as a professor of film and media arts at Temple two years ago.
The couple have a film club with friends. Movie showings in the basement sitting room are followed by refreshments and discussions led by Eran.
“If and when we are no longer able to navigate the stairs,” Andrea said, “we will move the television upstairs and live in our cozy one-floor apartment.”
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Prior to the kickoff of the World Cup, the organizers of the city’s events projected the soccer tournament would bring $770 million to Pennsylvania in gross revenue.
Yet, George Diemer, a sports economist at Temple University, said those in his field tend to be skeptical of pre-event projections. Organizers “have an incentive to blow the numbers up,” he said.
Midway through the tournament, the Economy League of Greater Philadelphia estimated that $30 million to $90 million would actually stay in the city. The economists factored in metrics such as leakage, when a share of money spent goes to national organizations instead of staying local. The current analysis, done after the tourists have left, leans “toward the lower end of that range,” said Saloni Tandon, director of research and analytics at the Economy League, the region’s independent civic think tank.
“Even if it goes up, it feels like our estimation is likely to stay in the tens of millions, rather than cross into the range of hundreds of millions,” said Tandon.
The cleat-kicked dirt is still settling, and Tandon said conclusions will continue to change as more data comes to light. The city is looking for a consultant to craft a postmortem analysis on the year’s largest events’ economic impact.
Here is what we know so far.
Hotels and short-term rentals made more money
Center City hotels made out well, as almost 410,000 fans from more than 190 countries flocked to Philadelphia to watch the six matches at Lincoln Financial Field.
The Philadelphia Convention & Visitors Bureau data say on the dates of the six soccer Philadelphia matches, hotels saw a 50.3% increase in revenue compared to those same dates in 2025.
Using that data, however, Tandon calculated that Center City hotel occupancy on the game days increased around 3%— modest gains.Much of that revenue increase was thanks to higher per-night pricing by the hotels due to the special event.
A 3% occupancy increase doesn’t validate “a massive spike in terms of tourism,” Tandon said.
Ethan Conner-Ross, executive vice president of consultancy firm Econsult Solutions Inc., noted that hotels may have lost some business to short-term rentals, with “people finding a different way to stay based on their needs,” he said.
An Airbnb spokesperson said the World Cup was the biggest hosting event in the company’s history in all host cities.
For short-term rentals in Philadelphia, revenue reached $38.3 million over the tournament window — up 25% from the same period last year, according to AirDNA, a research company that tracks the short-term rental market.
But that gain was almost purely pricing — with $7.5 million of the $7.8 million increase coming from higher rates. Translation: hosts drove revenue by increasing prices rather than filling more nights. Occupancy dropped in 12 out of 16 host cities compared to the same period last year, including Philadelphia, as supply outpaced demand.
Fans wait outside SEPTA’s NRG Station near the stadium following Ivory Coast’s victory over Ecuador on Sunday, June 14, 2026.Michelle Myers
How SEPTA, PHL, and rideshare handled more travelers
Hosting a large sports event can strain local infrastructure as tourists crowd public transit and other services, leaving high costs of building infrastructure or congestion for locals.
Diemer pointed out that it took Montreal 30 years to pay off its debt from hosting the 1976 Olympics.
Since the six World Cup matches in Philly were spaced out over June and July, Diemer said that helped diffuse the costs.
“I think it was successful,” said Diemer of the decision to ”spread out the games so it won’t be overloading the local infrastructure.”
Travelers took advantage of public transit to get to and from the airport, as well. On the two days sandwiching a match, ridership on the Airport Regional Rail line typically increased at least 20%.
At Philadelphia International Airport (PHL), international arrivals were up 8.3% in June year-over-year.
Spokesperson Heather Redfern said that in a usual summer, PHL is typically a big outbound and connecting market to other destinations. This summer, there were more inbound passengers coming to Philadelphia from countries playing games in the city. In addition, many travelers, notably Scottish fans and Czech fans, took advantage of unique nonstop routes through PHL on the way to games in other cities.
“We focused on delivering an experience for those passengers that made them fond of Philadelphia and want to come back and visit,” said Redfern, “From this perspective, we are very happy.”
Despite some rideshare restrictions surrounding the FIFA Fan Festival in Lemon Hill, Uber drivers transported tens of thousands of fans to and from the festival and the stadium complex, according to Jazmin Kay, head of public affairs for Pennsylvania at Uber.
Prior to the tournament, Uber onboarded more drivers and maximized earning opportunities for them: one way was creating an event-rider surcharge near venues, with 100% of those surcharges paid directly to drivers.
For Lyft, on days when Philadelphia hosted a World Cup game, rides to bars increased by 18% compared to their typical average on the same day of the week. On June 19, rides to bars were 49% above average.
Soccer fans watch Ecuador take on the Ivory Coast during a World Cup soccer watch party at Brauhaus Schmitz on Sunday, June 14, 2026.Yong Kim / Staff Photographer
Where soccer fans ate and drank
Philly’s fan festival saw 575,304 attendees, and bars nearby, like the Black Taxi, saw greater foot traffic and a boost in sales.
For other Philadelphia restaurants, outcomes seem more mixed.
On four of the six World Cup game dates, local restaurants that use reservation site OpenTable saw an increase in seated diners, according to OpenTable data. The biggest gain was 22% on June 25, and of the two dates when reservations decreased, June 14 was the worst with a 44% decline.
At Reading Terminal Market, soccer fans helped drive a 13% year-over-year increase in June foot traffic. On June 19, the market saw more than 30,000 customers, setting a five-year record for Friday visitation.
“Our prepared food merchants — especially if you are in the pretzel, cheesesteak, pizza, or burger business — had a great month,” said Annie Allman, CEO of Reading Terminal Market.
Still, Allman noted that there was a drop in the number of loyal local customers that shopped at the market’s butchers, fishmongers, and grocers, “as they chose to stay home to avoid the crowds.”
A longer-term reputation boost for Philly?
It’s tricky to untangle the effects of the World Cup from tourism spending driven by other coinciding large events, such as the July Fourth celebrations for America’s 250th birthday.
Additionally, not all impacts will be observed within the short period of the tournament. Some benefits, like an improvement of Philly’s reputation or publicity on an international stage, could be realized later on.
“But it’s definitely in a mix of assets that affect how people think about Philadelphia,” Conner-Ross said, “and that contributes to those decisions that happen down the line.”
It was easy for Derrick Morton-Rivera to “fall in love” with basketball. He was always around it.
His father, D.J. Rivera, had his son while he was a sophomore at St. Joseph’s. Even after he transferred to Binghamton University in New York then University of Montevallo in Alabama, his son traveled to games and watched.
“His little eyes would be going up and down the court,” said D.J. Rivera, who grew up in Lawncrest and played nine years professionally overseas. “I gave him a basketball, and he never put it down.”
For the Riveras, basketball serves as a reminder that nothing in life is guaranteed.OnMarch 4, 1990, Gathers collapsed on a court in Southern California while playing in the West Coast Conference tournament semifinals. He suffered cardiac arrest and died at 23 years old.
“With my uncle and his heart condition, you never know when you could play your last game or your last time people seeing you — death is real,” D.J. Rivera said. “It’s the only thing that’s guaranteed in life, so I think while we’re here, you should do what you love.”
It’s why Rivera brought his son to the Danny Rumph Classic for years.
The five-day tournament, which begins Thursday at Drexel, honors Rumph, who died in a pickup basketball game at the Mallery Recreation Center on May 8, 2005.
D.J. Rivera with his son, Derrick Morton-Rivera, who will play college basketball at Temple this fall.D.J. Rivera
Rumph died from an undiagnosed heart condition, known as hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, which caused him to go into sudden cardiac arrest. He was 21.
Giving back to a cause that similarly impacted his family was important to Rivera. He played in the tournament in 2012 and did it consecutively for about 10 years. Even Morton-Rivera participated in a youth halftime game during the tournament in 2016, where he recalled winning a $50 Nike gift card and James Harden showing up to play in the final.
The two have made an effort to check out the event each year and plan to attend a game this week.
“I love the Danny Rumph tournament,” Rivera said. “You get to play against pros, NBA players, be highly competitive, get to talk trash, and the crowd’s great. It’s just a great weekend in the city that you look forward to end the summer on.”
Being exposed to an event like the Rumph Classic has also played a factor in Morton-Rivera, a 6-foot-4 guard, continuing his basketball legacy in Philadelphia. The Father Judge graduate will play at Temple this fall.
“Back in the day, a lot of people used to stay home,” he said. “That’s not normal now. I feel like that should be a normal thing because that brings the community out even more. Like if a lot of hometown kids are staying, a lot of people from Philadelphia are going to the games. It’s just better for the city, it brings everybody together.”
At a young age, Morton-Rivera didn’t fully grasp what happened to Gathers, but as he got older, he had a better understanding.
He took a family trip to California before 2020 and visited LMU, where he saw Hank Gathers’ statue outside of the arena. He also met with a program who detects heart problems and had a screening done.
D.J. Rivera played high school basketball at Neumann Goretti, his son competed at Father Judge.D.J. Rivera
The trip, Morton-Rivera said, brought his family together.
“Even though I didn’t know much about it at a young age, just me hearing about it and knowing what they did inspired me to do what I do,” he added.
Basketball has also been the focal point of him and his dad’s relationship. This past year, D.J. Rivera got to watch his son win back-to-back Catholic League championships with Father Judge, a feat he once achieved 20 years ago with Neumann Goretti.
Both father and son left their respective high schools as the program’s all-time leading scorer.
After Judge won the crown inside a packed Palestra this past February, Rivera surprised his son with a shirt that read on the back, “20 years apart same heart.”
“When my career came to an end, I got to watch his, so it’s like the game never left,” said Rivera, who will graduate from the Philadelphia Fire Academy in three weeks. “That’s something that brings me and him together. … It’s something we can enjoy together because I both know we love the sport.
“Basketball has done a lot for us. It’s just a great feeling to be able to continue that and watch his time be here now. Soon enough, he’ll be playing in the Rumph as a professional.”
The questions that cut to the heart of the horrible hazing incidents within Cheltenham High School’s football program are the same questions that everyone always asks in these situations: Where were the adults? Who allowed this behavior to happen? How did the chop-busting and rites of passage that have long been intrinsic to sports escalate to the point that four coaches, including former head coach Terence Tolbert, and six players have been indicted for two alleged assaults that took place in the team’s locker room?
Even a glance at the details is enough to turn your stomach. Players — as many as 19 of them — allegedly held down a 15-year-old sophomore member of the team, stepped on his chest and groin with their cleats-clad feet, and tried to poke a broomstick into his butt. The coaches traded inculpating texts about it, according to Montgomery County District Attorney Kevin Steele. The Cheltenham School District canceled the football team’s season last year and again this year. Parents, many of whom reportedly had warned the district against hiring Tolbert in the first place, are angry. And everyone, inside the program and out, is left wondering how in the hell we got here.
A less egregious incident, in the Central Bucks High School West football program in 2014, is instructive here. In that situation, a preseason initiation ritual progressed each year from giving players haircuts — sometimes in the shape of male or female genitalia — to licking mayonnaise off teammates’ nipples and groins to simulating sex with a stuffed toy pig to playing “Slap/Lick/Fondle,” a game that ended with underclassmen touching other players’ private parts.
The Central Bucks School District canceled West’s football season and removed its head coach, but what matters most is that the district acted before the hazing reached the same severity as what allegedly happened at Cheltenham. You’d think such an episode would have been a warning siren for coaches and athletic administrators throughout the region. But after a while, the siren goes silent or the people who need to hear it most go deaf, and vigilance wanes, and the pattern repeats itself.
It is easy and of course correct to lament that youth and high school sports too often have taken on an outsized and inappropriate importance for too many coaches and parents and athletes. But one of sports’ greatest benefits to young people is that it gives them a stake in something bigger than themselves, a stake in something that matters to them, and they learn to develop and modify actions and habits to preserve sports’ place in their lives.
Amid the C.B. West hazing story, for instance, Phil DiGiacomo, who was a star running back on two of the school’s state-championship teams in the late 1990s, told me that, when he played, the Bucks’ success served as an effective deterrent against bad behavior. Yes, Mike Pettine, the program’s legendary head coach, and his staff ruled with a measure of iron-fist discipline that likely wouldn’t fly today, and even those old-school coaching techniques and West’s on-field dominance didn’t prevent every instance of player misconduct. Still, DiGiacomo said, the athletes themselves knew that, just by suiting up for West, they were continuing a special tradition, and they stood to lose a chance to call themselves champions if they did something stupid or malicious. So most of them didn’t.
Cheltenham’s practice field photographed on July 29. The program hasn’t had a winning season since 2022.Tom Gralish / Staff Photographer
“When we were there, there was no hazing,” DiGiacomo said. “It’s kind of funny because if anyone ever got picked on, it got straightened out by an older guy real quick, mostly because we feared Pettine — that, and we were too damn tired to do anything else.”
A high school team doesn’t have to win 59 straight games and three consecutive state titles, as those West teams did, to be a point of pride for its players. It just has to provide them a rewarding experience, and they — and their coaches — have to feel that they have something to lose if it doesn’t. That element appears to have been missing entirely from the Cheltenham football program in recent years. In fact, it seems not to have been even a consideration for the school’s administration.
In his previous stint as a head coach, for Abington in 2023, Tolbert had won just one game. The school district decided not to renew him as coach, and sources have told The Inquirer that Tolbert’s toleration of a toxic atmosphere within and around the Abington program, including bullying by players and the use of slurs by coaches, were the driving forces behind his departure.
Cheltenham’s leadership either was unaware of these red flags or was willing to look past them, and for what? The program hasn’t had a winning season since 2022, but come on. Was Tolbert thought to be such a great coach that only he could restore the program to respectability? What qualities did he have that the people who hired him considered so essential? It’s obvious now that he and his assistants weren’t capable of doing the one thing any adult working in a school should put first: Keeping students safe.
The courage to take the right steps
The most infuriating aspect of stories such as this is the excuse that coaches can’t be held responsible for all their players’ mistakes. That’s true as far as it goes, but there are steps coaches can take to establish the right kind of culture, to model good behavior, to let the athletes in their care know what will be tolerated and what won’t.
One longtime area football coach told me Wednesday morning that he was fortunate to have two assistant coaches who were special-education teachers, who spent a lot of time around kids who had been the objects of ridicule. These coaches brought students from the school’s autism-support classes to be managers and statisticians and scorekeepers, and they let everyone know: These kids are part of this program. These kids are accepted members of this team. Treat them with respect.
Those are the kinds of gestures that seem small but can make a major difference, that mitigate the risks that coaches have accepted for decades. Coaching high school sports is a damn hard job, and it’s difficult because, at its best, it requires a measure of moral courage: To say no, to explain why, to stand by that decision. In this Cheltenham ugliness, we see once again what happens when that strength is lacking. The necessary guardrails fall away, if they were ever installed at all, and only after the damage comes to light does it become clear that a school and its students have been saddled with coaches and educators who aren’t willing to do the right thing or, worse, don’t even know what the right thing is.
Entering her final season at Northwestern, Ashley Sessa has accomplished nearly everything in her college field hockey career.
After winning the 2022 national championship as a freshman at North Carolina, the Schwenksville native transferred to Northwestern, where she helped lead the Wildcats to back-to-back national titles in 2024 and 2025.
She has earned several accolades and honors, including two Big Ten Offensive Player of the Year awards, two National Field Hockey Coaches Association All-America nods, and a spot on the 2025 NCAA All-Tournament team.
But now, Sessa, 22, is preparing for something new. She will make her first trip to the Women’s International Hockey Federation World Cup with the United States national team from Aug. 14 to 30.
Sessa will travel to Belgium with the rest of the U.S. team for the tournament, which is held every four years in between the Summer Olympics. The U.S. begins its group stage schedule with a match against two-time champion Argentina on Aug. 15 (11:30 a.m., watch.hockey).
Sessa has 62 appearances with Team USA, including at the 2024 Paris Olympics, but she says the World Cup presents a different challenge. The U.S. team left for Europe from Charlotte, where it trains, on Friday.
“We just introduced a few double sessions, two each day, and then [we are] scrimmaging each other on Saturdays,” Sessa said. “It’s been a hard few weeks and months leading up to it, but we’re really excited to see how things go at the World Cup.”
Team USA will look to top its third-place finish in 1994, and it has a large contingent of players from the Greater Philadelphia area. Nine of the 20 players on the roster are from Southeastern Pa., and one from Ocean City, N.J.
Ashley Sessa has made 62 appearances with Team USA, including the 2024 Paris Olympics.World Sport Pics / Simon Watts
Sessa, who played for Spring-Ford and Episcopal Academy in high school, said her familiarity with her teammates is a benefit. She’ll compete alongside current and former teammates from Northwestern in Hershey native Maddie Zimmer and Lebanon County native Lauren Wadas.
“We know each other pretty well,” Sessa said. “I’ve known a lot of the girls since I was at WC Eagles, [a Chester County-based youth club], since I was maybe like 11, 12 years old. We have a good connection, especially through schools, too … Just growing up with the girls and now playing in a World Cup with them is super amazing.”
The U.S. team medaled at an international competition this summer, earning a third-place finish at the FIH Nations Cup, hosted in New Zealand in June.
Sessa scored two goals, including a 46th-minute winner, to lift the U.S. over Chile in the third-place game. The forward was joint top scorer with six goals in the tournament and was named its best player.
Sessa hopes that the momentum the U.S. team built from its best-ever finish at the eight-team Nations Cup will carry forward to the 16-team World Cup.
“I think we have the determination to go out there and prove to each other that the USA is improving in field hockey,” Sessa said. “We have a great team and a great system that allows us to improve every time we step foot on the field.”
In addition to representing her country, Sessa is determined to make field hockey more visible around the U.S. Through her coaching venture, AS3, Sessa has hosted free youth field hockey clinics in Manayunk and Norristown.
Sessa handed out donated equipment at her clinics, and hopes to do more events across the Northeast and Midwest in the future to get more young athletes interested in the sport.
She said the idea to hold free clinics and equipment distributions came from her mother, Tracey Sessa, who grew up in Norristown. Sessa said she remembered playing against Norristown Area High School as a freshman at Spring-Ford, before transferring to Episcopal Academy.
“You could tell the girls loved the sport, it was just the fact that they didn’t have access to the newest stick or the newest shoes to help them be able to perform,” Sessa said. “I don’t think money should prohibit your sporting abilities or for you to be able to compete in something you love.”
In addition to hosting free clinics in the Philadelphia area, Sessa has hosted a talk and donated equipment to a youth field hockey organization in Charlotte, N.C. She hopes to hold an event in Chicago in the near future.
Her goal is to help draw attention to field hockey, which has a large international audience, but remains obscure in much of the U.S.
The sports’ viewership is growing, with an estimated 10 million Americans watching women’s field hockey during the 2024 Olympics, a 220% increase from the 2021 games.
Leading up to the 2028 Olympics in Los Angeles, the first Summer Games on American soil since 1996, Sessa wants to get more Americans interested in the sport.
“I think this is the most important time to do it, especially two years out,” Sessa said. “America is such a huge avenue for sports, and focusing on that, I think if they do it right, it could be a huge opportunity to grow the sport.”
Sessa tries to stay focused on her day-to-day with the national team and her upcoming senior season at Northwestern, but every once in a while, she lets her mind visualize what it would be like to play at the Olympics on home soil.
“If I have a bad practice day, I let myself think forward a bit and just say, ‘You know what, this is good, I’m learning something new,’” Sessa said. “This preparation will help me further in the future for the L.A. Games.
“Just having that mindset, for me, is really good. … It’s still so far away, and [I am] just doing every I can do to get better, not only as an athlete, but as a person as well, to help me grow, to hopefully be a part of those games.”
Chris DiJulia spent 56 years living as if he didn’t have cerebral palsy. He’d take “walks” in his wheelchair, down the block from his Havertown home. He was a regular passenger on SEPTA long before paratransit came to the suburbs in 1994.
The avid St. Joseph’s basketball fan would often go to Hawk Hill to visit his father, Don, the longtime athletic director, or to watch men’s and women’s basketball practice.
But he’d also venture to Eagles training camp in West Chester, games at the Palestra, Villanova, Temple, all on his own, boldly traversing a city unequipped to take him anywhere.
Of course, this came with its challenges. A broken elevator or an unexpected flight of stairs could derail an entire trip. Sometimes, a bus driver would pretend not to see DiJulia waiting at his stop because they didn’t want the hassle.
But DiJulia was no fool, and certainly no pushover. He’d scribble down the license plate, call SEPTA’s customer service line, and report the vehicle.
“And probably said a thing or two about them as they drove by,” his father added.
This spirit was what made DiJulia special. His limbs were short and stiff, his speech was slow and slurred, but between the ears, he was just like anybody else, and expected to be treated as such.
He frequently signaled this through his humor. If the St. Joe’s fan was among a group of coaches trading barbs, he’d join in. DiJulia was not above yelling “brick” when a player missed a shot, or expanding that sentiment to, “you’re building a whole house!”
Charles Barkley (left) and Chris DiJulia became friends in the 1980s.provided by Saint Joseph's University
No one was exempt, not even NBA stars. Charles Barkley first met DiJulia in the late 1980s, at the start of his professional career. The Sixers practiced in the morning at St. Joe’s, and the teenager in the wheelchair was always there.
If Barkley had a poor showing, DiJulia would be quick to point it out.
“When I had hair, you never played bad and [went] to a Black barbershop,” Barkley said last week. “You never played bad and [went to] see Chris DiJulia the next morning. You know something bad is going to happen.”
DiJulia could’ve lived a smaller, less-adventurous life in Havertown, and no would have blamed him. But he chose to immerse himself in the world of Philadelphia sports, with all its eccentricities and quirks, and fit right in.
Now, that world is mourning his absence. On July 27, DiJulia died of natural causes stemming from cerebral palsy. The outpouring of support has been immense and wide-ranging.
The DiJulia family has heard from former St. Joe’s basketball players, softball players, field hockey players. Broadcasters and coaches have reached out, many of whom are no longer in the Philadelphia market.
On Thursday morning, Phil Martelli, another close friend of DiJulia’s, texted Delonte West. The former Hawks guard has long struggled with substance abuse and homelessness, but has been sober for the past 190 days.
Phil Martelli (right) was among those on Hawk Hill who drew endless inspiration from Chris DiJulia.provided by Saint Joseph's University
He asked Martelli to relay a message.
“Please send my condolences for Chris,” West said. “[He] was my brother, I carry him in spirit, he used to always have the right words and smile for me.”
A public funeral will be held on Aug. 12. The family is expecting a big crowd. Some will travel hundreds of miles, all to support a man who would do anything to support them.
Pushing through the pain
DiJulia was born in Connecticut in 1969. At first, his parents thought he was healthy; it wasn’t until the baby was baptized that a family member with a medical background noticed his head was oversized.
Doctors diagnosed him with cerebral palsy, and he underwent surgery at three weeks old (the first of over 20 surgeries throughout his lifetime).
Even as an infant, Chris radiated joy, with a big smile and bright blue eyes. Pat DiJulia knew her son had obstacles ahead, but when she’d look at his face, full of expression, she could tell he understood what she was saying.
Don was an assistant college basketball coach at Fairfield at the time. A few years later, when he was hired by George Washington, the family moved to Virginia.
Chris DiJulia (center, with longtime Phillies broadcaster Harry Kalas) developed a love of sports at a young age.provided by Saint Joseph's University
In 1973, he accepted an assistant coaching job at American. Chris was approaching pre-school age, but local options were limited.
The boy would need physical, occupational and speech therapy. The Americans with Disabilities Act was17 years from becoming law, and most schools didn’t provide those kinds of services yet.
So, the DiJulias were directed to three boarding schools on the East Coast. The one closest to them, in Virginia, was more like an institution; instead of catering to a specific population, it housed students with a number of physical and mental disabilities.
They chose to send Chris to Philadelphia instead, to the HMS School for Children with Cerebral Palsy. Both parents had family in the area who could visit him. Don started looking for work there, which is how he ended up becoming the St. Joe’s athletic director in 1976.
It was at HMS that Chris found his love for Philadelphia sports. Many staff members were Phillies fans and began to watch games with him. He quickly developed a talent for critiquing the local ball club (one that would serve him for the rest of his life).
The younger DiJulia would spend his weekends at Alumni Memorial Fieldhouse and the St. Joe’s athletic offices. He did not do so quietly. Women’s basketball coach Jim Foster said the 9-year-old would routinely bust into his office, so much so that he joked he was going to “need a new doorway.”
The family returned to Connecticut in 1984, when Don was named commissioner of the Metro Atlantic Athletic Conference. But they couldn’t stay away from Hawk Hill, and came back in 1988, after Don was re-hired as athletic director, a job he’d keep for the next 30 years before retiring.
The DiJulia siblings were raised by their parents, Don and Pat, to stick together.provided by Kath DiJulia Cloran
By this point, Chris was a young man, brimming with confidence. This was due in large part to his upbringing. He was one of seven children, and Pat and Don treated him no different than the others.
The family would help Chris where he needed it, but always encouraged him to be independent. If he could lift his arms and put his shirt on with some minor assistance, then he would do it.
If he could shuffle his feet from the wheelchair to the bed, as someone hoisted him up, then he would do that, too.
“He was one of the seven,” his sister, Kath Cloran, said. “And yes, he needed extra care, but he was held to the same standards as all of us.
“He never wanted to be special. He just wanted to fit in and do what all of us did, really, and just live as regular a life as he possibly could.”
Transportation was integral to this. Don and Pat would map out a route for their son before each trip, making sure he was familiar with every curb and stair.
Some of these trips were laborious. To get to his technical school in Norristown, for example, Chris would travel a half mile on Haverford Road, to a platform for a high-speed rail.
Chris DiJulia (with his mother Pat) would stop at nothing to be close to the Philly sports scene.provided by The DiJulia Family
When he arrived at Norristown Transit Center, he’d take an elevator to the street level (if the elevator was working, which was a big if) and “walk” a few more blocks to school.
Despite any setbacks, the process was empowering. And paratransit made it even easier. Before long, Chris could travel all over the city, which meant ample trips to St. Joe’s and elsewhere.
Jim Lynam, the Sixers’ former head coach and DiJulia’s uncle, said it wouldn’t be unusual for his nephew to attend Sixers practice in the morning, St. Joe’s men’s basketball practice in the afternoon, and women’s basketball practice at night.
This was how he met Barkley.
The NBA star quickly realized DiJulia was able — and willing — to spar. So, Barkley and a few of his teammates, Rick Mahorn and Manute Bol, started going back and forth with him.
“Some fans, they’re just a-holes,” Barkley said. “They’re just mean. But the way he said something and just started laughing immediately, it took all the sting away.”
He added: “I literally met this guy 1,000 times, because he was always at practice. And I think it gave him joy. It gave us joy, but I think it really gave him joy, too.”
‘People just loved him’
DiJulia became omnipresent in Philadelphia basketball circles. When he wasn’t at St. Joe’s, he’d be at home, on the phone, usually with a coach.
In the late 1980s, Foster invited him to sit on the bench during women’s basketball games (a tradition that continued after Cindy Griffin took over the program).
Chris DiJulia’s friendship with St. Joe’s women’s basketball coach Jim Foster (right) continued after Foster moved on to Vanderbilt.provided by Saint Joseph's University
The coach and his de facto assistant created a pre-game routine. After Foster gave his initial speech, he’d turn to DiJulia, who would share a few words.
“And then he would say, ‘But what it really comes down to,’ and he’d point to his heart,” St. Joe’s Hall of Famer Katie Gardler said. “And then he would point to his head.
“And you looked at all your teammates, and you’re like, ‘We’re doing this for him. Because he can’t get out there. We’re doing this for him.’”
DiJulia soon expanded his network beyond Hawk Hill, attending the NCAA and Atlantic 10 tournaments, among other events. If a coach left Philadelphia, he’d follow their careers, often traveling to go see them.
From the 1990s to the 2020s, DiJulia flew to Vanderbilt, Ohio State and Chattanooga to visit Foster, and drove to Michigan with his father to visit Martelli. Every year, he’d trek to Burlington to see Tom Brennan, the men’s basketball coach at the University of Vermont.
Brennan was among his closest friends. They first met in the 1970s, when the coach was assisting Rollie Massimino at Villanova. Brennan was hired by Yale in 1982, overlapping with DiJulia in Connecticut, which brought them even closer.
The two men discovered that they had a similar sense of humor; or as Pat put it, were “both crazy.” Games at Yale eventually led to daily phone calls, which led to trips to Vermont. In late November 2001, DiJulia visited Brennan when Cleveland State was in town, led by Massimino.
A Philadelphia jewel !! Chris DiJulia was as authentic and loyal as they come . An amazing man and a life full of inspiring others !! Love to the DiJulia family . pic.twitter.com/52X7Wglvvb
After the game, they got dinner with a few other coaches and family members. At one point, DiJulia asked Massimino a question that silenced the entire room.
“He said, ‘Rollie,’” Brennan recalled. “And back then, nobody called him Rollie. It was ‘Coach Mass.’”
The head coach turned to DiJulia, with an air of incredulity.
“Rollie?” Massimino said. “Rollie???”
The St. Joe’s fan grinned.
“That’s your name, ain’t it?”
DiJulia was a fixture at the University of Vermont. Every time he visited, he’d sit on the bench, right next to Brennan, tasked with keeping track of timeouts. This didn’t always go according to plan.
In February 1991, Vermont played at Delaware. It was a close game in the final minutes. Vermont was down three with the ball. Brennan turned to DiJulia and asked if they had any timeouts.
He said yes, but had counted incorrectly. Vermont got a technical foul. Delaware made one of two free throws, took possession of the ball, and won the game.
“The fun they’ve had with that over the years…” said Don.
Chris DiJulia and one of his best friends, Tom Brennan.Provided by the DiJulia family
Chris was also a regular on Brennan’s sports talk radio show on WCPV-FM. One time, he got the coach out of a parking ticket, because a police officer recognized DiJulia, and decided not to “mess up DeJules’ weekend.”
He was so beloved that in 2005, when Vermont was playing to reach the NCAA tournament, a booster chartered a plane to fly DiJulia to Burlington for the America East final. A gaggle of reporters met him at the airport.
After DiJulia returned home, Brennan checked in with his friend.
“I said, “Are you going to see St. Joe’s [in the NIT]?” Brennan recalled. “And he said, ‘Yeah… commercial.’ You got some balls. Commercial!
“But people just loved him. They loved him.”
DiJulia’s unflinching honesty was a big reason why. In the mid 1990s, amid a stretch of below-.500 seasons, he penned an angry letter to Phillies team president Dave Montgomery.
Chris DiJulia (with former Big 5 coach Fran Dunphy on the right and St. Joe’s women’s basketball coach Cindy Griffin on the left) was a massive Phillies fan.provided by Saint Joseph's University
Montgomery invited him to his box, with Brennan and Don DiJulia. The executive asked what he could do for the frustrated fan.
“And he said, ‘The first thing is to stop our team from sucking,’” Brennan recalled.
(Montgomery and DiJulia went on to have a very close relationship, one that improved when the Phillies ended their World Series drought in 2008.)
“He was always ready,” Brennan said. “You couldn’t throw him off his game, man.”
A spirit worth celebrating
DiJulia’s health declined over the past two years. He could no longer feed himself or travel. Sitting on the bench at St. Joe’s was not possible; neither was attending games at Citizens Bank Park.
But DiJulia adjusted, as he always did. He continued to work the phones, keeping in touch with coaches. He’d follow his favorite teams remotely, either on TV or an internet stream, rather than in person.
And through it all, he never lost his spirit. Last Easter, DiJulia’s sister, Tyl Sadoff, gifted him a T-shirt. On the front was a message he thought was hilarious: “Just call me Jesus, I keep coming back.”
Perhaps that is the lesson. Even in the darkest of moments, Chris DiJulia was able to laugh. And since his passing, loved ones have found that is the best way to honor him. To share their favorite stories, of their favorite guy, with a tinge of sadness, but a bellyful of joy.
During his extensive travels to Europe, 19th-century doctor and Philadelphia socialite William Camac was impressed with the vast zoological parks he visited, especially the one in London.
He soon convinced his well-to-do cronies in the Union League, the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, and the Franklin Institute to open a zoological garden in Philadelphia. And on March 21, 1859, the Pennsylvania state legislature passed a charter establishing the Zoological Society of Philadelphia.
Its purpose: to purchase and collect living and wild animals for public exhibition.
Artist Gwenn Seemel’s No. 1 captures many of the Philadelphia Zoo’s first milestones.Gwenn Seemel and Colibrà Workshop
Organizers started building in earnest immediately, but the Civil War slowed down the process. (Camac served as a surgeon in the Union Army.) After the war’s end, in the late 1860s, the city granted the Zoological Society a lease to choose land. The society went with a 42-acre site in West Fairmount Park near the brand new Girard Avenue Bridge.
On July 1, 1874, America’s first zoo opened, in Philadelphia.
The Philadelphia Historical District will celebrate this moment Saturday at the Philadelphia Zoo. The party is part of the historic district’s weekly “Firstivals,” a yearlong recognition of places and events with Philly roots.
In 1901, the Philadelphia Zoo opened the Penrose Research Laboratory, the world’s first zoological research laboratory.Philadelphia Zoo
Admission to the Philadelphia Zoo on opening day was 25 cents for adults and 10 cents for children. The orchestra played as visitors strolled through the gardens.
Featured exhibits included a prairie dog village, that, according to a 1874 article in The Inquirer, “was not to be found in any other zoological garden in the world.” There was also a buffalo range, a beaver pond, alligators, and “five specimens of grizzly bears.”
More than 227,000 visitors arrived by foot, horse carriage, steamboat, and passenger train during the zoo’s first eight months.
Momma Maggie and Baby Lucky, the first orangutan born in an American zoo, in 1928.The Philadelphia Zoo
Apart from being the first zoo, the Philadelphia Zoo boasts many of the nation’s other zoological firsts.
In 1901, the Philadelphia Zoo opened the world’s first-ever animal health research laboratory, where Charles B. Penrose pioneered the idea of giving zoo animals balanced diets.
In 1928, the first orangutan and the first chimpanzee to be born in an American zoo were born here.
In 1935, Ellen P. Corsen White formulated the first food for zoo animals, called Zoo Cake, which helped the zoo animals be less susceptible to disease.
In 1956, the first cheetahs to be born in an American zoo were born in Philadelphia.
In 1974, the Philadelphia Zoo and the Portland Zoo became the nation’s first officially accredited zoological gardens.
Even today, the Philadelphia Zoo continues to be run by the Zoological Society of Philadelphia. In 2009, it opened a state-of-the-art bird center, and in 2024, the Philadelphia Zoo celebrated its 150th birthday.
Galapagos tortoise Mommy (estimated to be 97 years ofd) eats a piece of pumpkin at the Philadelphia Zoo on Oct. 28, 2025.Tom Gralish / Staff Photographer
“The Philadelphia Zoo is a part of the fabric of this city,” said Jo-Elle Mogerman, president and CEO of the Philadelphia Zoo. “We have served as a window into the world of wildlife for generations.”
This week’s Firstival is Saturday, Aug. 8, 11 a.m.-1 p.m., at the Philadelphia Zoo, 3400 W. Girard Avenue.
On a humid Wednesday morning in Manayunk, movers in sweat-soaked T-shirts hauled three movie chairs, each at least 100 pounds, up two flights of a spiral staircase in a three-story home about to welcome its new owner.
Kevin Boras,a recent Temple University graduate working at Gentle Giant Moving Co. for the summer, has learned some tricks of the trade. As he tilted the widest chair on its side to squeeze through the entrance and over the railing, he explained, “Sometimes you gotta puzzle-piece it up the stairs.”
After the unwieldy seats were handled, the movers looked to the next item — a thin floor lamp.
Boras grabbed and huffed his way up the stairs, joking, “I don’t know if I’m gonna make it!”
For most homeowners and renters, moves are stressful — once ranked more stressful than getting a divorce — but for the city’s professional movers, it’s just another day at work. Between parking troubles on tight South Philly streets and narrow doorways in historical trinity homes, these crews encounter and overcome Philly-specific challenges daily.
But, as Sultans of Schlep owner Tom Brouillette said, most of the city’s biggest moving obstacles can be overcome.
“Not everything is possible, but most things are,” Brouillette said.
So, larger, modern furniture is often a mismatch in these older homes, according to Jay Leone, a managing partner at EverSafe Moving Co. Sometimes, it’s unrealistic for a Samsung refrigerator to fit inside the entrance of a trinity.
“There’s only so much you can do in terms of disassembling something to buy yourself an extra inch of space,” Leone said.
An aged setting isn’t helped by the sizable items many Philadelphians own. James Dawkins, a regional manager at Two Men and a Truck, said his movers have faced retro pinball machines, pianos, and gun safes weighing more than 600 pounds. “People have a lot of fun toys in their house,” he said.
One time a customer had Two Men and a Truck movers transport a casket inside a residential home. Once they confirmed it was empty, no further questions were asked.
Fred Meder (right) holds the elevator door while John Wulffen loads in furniture during a July move in the city.Aidan T. Gallo / Staff Photographer
Often, the solution to small entrances can be hoisting larger items through a balcony or window. Sometimes, it’s more complicated.
Fred Meder of EverSafe recalls an especially tricky move into a four-story South Philly home. Since its tiny staircases couldn’t accommodate the customer’s bulky furniture, Meder hoisted it in pieces up to the third and fourth stories through literal holes in the floor — the home had been designed with 5-by-5-foot trap door-esque openings in the floorboards of each level.
“That was an interesting and tough scenario that I’m glad we don’t run into very often,” Meder said.
Devin Latimore, owner of No Stress Movers, said older, mid-rise apartment buildings present additional challenges. While these buildings have elevators, the elevator shafts were typically built first, Latimore said, and the building was constructed around it “with no mind for modern, bigger furniture.” The elevators also tend to be manually operated, slowing down the moving process.
“If the operator has to go to the bathroom, we’re stuck,” he said. “We have to wait for him to come back in order to do anything.”
Still, stairs are not always the preferred option. Latimore once carried a 350-pound office printer up 184 stairs and said it was one of the hardest jobs he’s ever accomplished.
“It feels like gravity gets stronger the higher you go,” he said. “We were trying not to drop it, and not die at the same time.”
Parking troubles
Parking in Philadelphia can be difficult for any driver on a regular day. It’s a nightmare for professional movers.
South Philly’s narrow streets were not designed for big trucks — “You could lay across the street and touch both curbs,” Lattimore said — and one must be an experienced truck driver to navigate the area.
For a recent South Philly move, Dawkins’ team had to park at the end of the block because they couldn’t get their truck to the house. The farther the truck is parked from the house, the longer and more strenuous the move.
Manayunk is another challenging neighborhood for parking: “The worst of both worlds,” according to Latimore. Not only does it have tight streets, but traffic comes from both directions.
For the Gentle Giants recent move in Manayunk, the moving truck was parked across the street, but the home was at a busy three-way intersection. The movers rolled furniture on top of dollies on the crosswalks, avoiding oncoming traffic like a game of Crossy Road.
To reserve a parking zone, movers can obtain temporary permits from the city’s Department of Streets that bar other vehicles from parking in a specific area. But these permits aren’t foolproof.
“It’s almost a 50-50 shot in Philly as far as whether the locals will abide by those parking permits, or even notice them,” Leone said. “We’re hoping nobody takes our spot before we get there.”
Tom Martin of EverSafe Moving Co. moves furniture into his company truck for a Philly customer in July.Aidan T. Gallo / Staff Photographer
Moving tips
For a seamless move, Latimore emphasized the importance of hiring movers early. He said a majority of customers reach out only two weeks before a move and are quickly surprised and stressed by pricing and availability.
“Start earlier than you think,” Latimore said. He recommended collecting estimates up to six months before a move, as costs increase closer to the moving date.
Nearby parades, road closures, and block parties also are a factor to consider when choosing a moving date, as they can make a movers’ job near impossible.
“You have so much happening in the city, and everyone is always celebrating something,” Dawkins said. “Sometimes it can throw a wrench in your plans.”
When creating an estimate, movers will want to discuss a home’s challenges so the company can allot the correct amount of time and muscle. It’s important to be straightforward about all potential roadblocks.
“Moving is one of the most challenging things; no one’s excited for it,” Dawkins said. “We try to make it as easy as possible.”
Ahead of the 15th annual celebration of films by Black, brown, and Indigenous filmmakers, we spoke to the local filmmakers whose projects will be featured this year.
They told us about the impact of BlackStar on their careers, Philly’s influence on their filmmaking, and their favorite spots to hang out after a long day on set.
Answers have been edited for length and clarity.
Maori Karmael Holmes poses for a portrait near Forin Cafe on July 22, 2025, in Philadelphia. Her 2006 film, “Scene Not Heard: Women in Philadelphia Hip Hop,” will play at this year’s BlackStar Festival.Monica Herndon / Staff Photographer
Maori Karmael Holmes
‘Scene Not Heard: Women in Philadelphia Hip Hop’
Aug. 7, 4:30 p.m., Suzanne Roberts Theatre and streaming virtually
What’s your film about?
Taking Scene Not Heard: Women in Philadelphia Hip Hop on the festival circuit back in 2006 gave me the bug to launch a festival of my own — the Black Lily Film & Music Festival in 2007. So many of the relationships I made in its production are still relevant to the festival’s origins.
Holding the “hometown premiere” at International House in January 2006 to a packed house [established] my connection to that venue, which was where the first BlackStar took place. Aside from BlackStar, seeing this film and the [culture] scene two decades later, and with some issues still being relevant, it’s sobering in some ways.
What’s your connection to Philly?
I moved to Philadelphia from LA in 2001 to pursue my Master of Fine Art in Film & Media Arts at Temple University. Prior to that, I’d visited the city a few times, as I have some very dear friends from here. Since then, I’ve made my home here and have so many beautiful friends and chosen family now.
How has Philadelphia inspired you as a filmmaker?
The legacy of Black struggles for freedom and intellectual pursuits abounds in Philadelphia, and I am constantly learning about both historical marvels and uncovering new artists and thinkers who live here in the present. I have found a lot of opportunities in my time here, and as someone with a lot of ideas, it has afforded me plenty of space to try out new things in an incredibly supportive community.
How valuable is BlackStar for filmmakers of color?
I think that BlackStar is valuable for filmmakers of color as a platform for everyone to know about their work. Sometimes in mainstream spaces, nuance and humor are misunderstood, or there’s a need to overexplain. BlackStar offers a space for artists of the global majority to present their work in a space that goes beyond the 101 understanding.
We also value experimentation and a lot of artists of color are tapping into ancestral esthetics that fall outside of our contemporary Eurocentric conventions. I imagine it is affirming to present work to audiences who appreciate that kind of exploration.
Your favorite Philly bar or hang when you’re out on the town?
I do a lot of eating out (and in) with my friends. Picnic, which is a few blocks away from my house, is a current favorite.
Directors Melissa Beatriz & Andrés Cisneros are set to premiere their short documentary, “Philly Rumba,” at the 2026 BlackStar Film Festival.Courtesy of Luiza Barreto
Melissa Beatriz and Andrés Cisneros
‘Philly Rumba’
Aug. 6, 2:30 p.m., Perelman Theater and streaming virtually
Tell us about your film’s role in starting BlackStar?
Philly Rumba is about a group of African American men in Philadelphia who gravitated toward Cuban rumba as an expression of their African roots during the Civil Rights and Pan African Movements. More than 50 years later, they continue to play rumba together, proving that music can create community and solidarity in difficult times.
What’s your connection to Philly?
MB: I’ve been based in the Philly region for the past 16 years. During my first few years in Philly, I worked with local Latine serving nonprofit organizations in North Philadelphia, including Taller Puertorriqueño and Esperanza. From there, my first community media roles were with Scribe Video Center (shout out to Street Movies!) and Movement Alliance Project.
Philly provided the space for my interest in community media and arts and culture to develop and flourish throughout this time. I’ve gotten to build a network of artists and cultural workers, and develop my body of work that focuses on visualizing underrepresented stories of communities of color in the region.
AC: I came to Philadelphia for what was supposed to be a temporary teaching job. Eighteen years later, the city is home. Through artists and communities like Kùlú Mèlé and Conjunto Philly, I’ve continued to learn, collaborate, and build projects rooted here.
How has Philadelphia inspired you as a filmmaker?
MB: Philadelphia has taught me the power of collaboration, and supported my creative style. I am inspired by the tight-knit community of independent filmmakers and artists, which is often using the arts as a way to catalyze impactful change.
Philly Rumba is technically my first independent film as a director but it was the years of collaborating with the Philly arts community that prepared me to make this short documentary.
AC: A way to empower a community is to give them a chance to show you who they are. As an educator and musician, I know how art brings people together. Filmmaking became another way to preserve culture and tell stories that deserve to be seen.
How valuable is BlackStar for filmmakers of color?
MB: BlackStar is essential for filmmakers of color, as it is a culturally affirming space. It rejects the mainstream gaze and celebrates films that are from the perspectives of filmmakers of color and their broader communities. These films are not exploitative, but instead are deeply rooted in diverse histories and traditions.
AC: BlackStar is an ecosystem of artists, mentors, and collaborators that gives independent filmmakers of color the support and visibility our work deserves.
Your favorite Philly bar or hang when you’re out on the town?
MB: Renata’s in West Philly, Bok Bar in South Philly, and El Nopalito in Camden County.
AC: For years, it was ending the day at rehearsal and making music with friends. These days, I’m just as happy ending the day at home with my family.
Filmmaker Donn Thompson Morelli’s short documentary, “The Philadelphia Sensei: Lovett Hines,” will premiere at the 2026 BlackStar Film Festival.Courtesy of Whitney T
Donn Thompson Morelli
‘The Philadelphia Sensei: Lovett Hines’
Aug. 9, 4:30 p.m., Perelman Theater and streaming virtually
In your own words, what’s your film about?
My film introduces Philadelphia music educator Lovett Hines, teacher to generations of acclaimed artists. Believing there was a gap between the visibility of the artists and the visibility of the person who helped shape them, I sought to heal that gap. I was curious about the idea of legacy through others, how one person can influence culture without necessarily being centered in it.
Lovett’s impact is deeply felt, but not widely documented in this way — until now. The Philadelphia Sensei: Lovett Hines is an introduction to his living legacy and what happens when someone sees you before you see yourself.
What’s your connection to Philly?
West Philly raised me. My family’s musical, two-story rowhouse on Osage Avenue was my launching pad. It’s where I wrote my first poetry and songs.
It continues to drive me to tell stories and buoys every reinvention, including my directorial debut. Philly being Philly, actor Coleman Domingo and I shared an alley. Philly is a magical place.
How has Philadelphia inspired you as a filmmaker?
Philadelphia has main character energy. It inspires me to lean in, watch, and listen. Extraordinary stories are hiding in plain sight.
How valuable is BlackStar for filmmakers of color?
Very. BlackStar elevates our stories and amplifies them to the world. This year, that includes my film about arts education at a time when arts funding is increasingly under pressure. There’s hope in that, and a challenge for culture to course correct.
Your favorite Philly bar or hang when you’re out on the town?
Lately, Honeysuckle. When my creative battery is blinking red, the food, art, and the warm communitythere are a perfect reset.
An image of filmmaker Gabrielle Patterson, whos short documentary, “The Seeds We Carry,” will premiere at the 2026 BlackStar Film Festival.Courtesy of Jonathan Pushnik
Gabrielle Patterson
‘The Seeds We Carry’
Aug. 6, 2:30 p.m., Perelman Theater and streaming virtually
In your own words, what’s your film about?
It’s a short documentary about the power of growing, cooking, and sharing food in community. The film weaves together intimate portraits of urban farm stewards in Southwest Philadelphia, whose everyday acts of community care nourish bodies, while also nurturing belonging, forging cross-cultural kinship, and preserving a sense of home amid the pressures of gentrification and displacement.
What’s your connection to Philly?
I came to Philadelphia in 2011 to attend the University of Pennsylvania, where I received my Bachelor of Arts in Fine Arts.
After graduating, I decided to stay in Philly, and the city quickly became my home as I formed deeper bonds with friends, explored new interests, and developed my career in animation and design.
In late 2025, I decided to move back to the Atlanta area to live closer to my parents and sister. However, Philly will always feel like home.
How has Philadelphia inspired you as a filmmaker?
I am inspired by the ordinary, but also by the unexpected wonders of the city’s landscape, from an especially lush front-yard garden to a humorous or insightful conversation with a neighbor.
I am also inspired by fellow artists and filmmakers around me who navigate all sorts of barriers and obstacles to bring their creative visions to life and see them through until the end.
I don’t know if I would be a filmmaker if not for this city. I am grateful for organizations like the Leeway Foundation, Scribe Video Center, People’s Media Fund, SIFT Media Collective, and Termite TV Collective that have supported me on my journey.
How valuable is BlackStar for filmmakers of color?
When I think of what a film festival should be, I think of BlackStar. The quality and diversity of films from around the world is incredible, as is the care and consideration for the participating filmmakers and audiences.
For filmmakers of color, the festival is an amazing opportunity to see how the themes we explore in our work are interconnected, despiteus often coming from vastly different regions and cultures.
Your favorite Philly bar or hang when you’re out on the town?
Ifit’s summertime and the weather is nice, Pentridge Station for DJ Jamz’s Watermelon Glow party. When I’m in need of chill or cozier vibes, dinner and board game night with friends is the way to go.
Filmmaker Tshay Meade’s “Tell Me When You Get Home” will make its East Coast premiere at the 2026 BlackStar Film Festival.Courtesy of Naomieh Jovin
Tshay Meade
‘Tell Me When You Get Home’
Aug. 8, 5 p.m., Suzanne Roberts Theatre and streaming virtually
In your own words, what’s your film about?
Tell Me When You Get Home is about an uncle and niece who are making sense of loss, love, and connection during a family party. The film is semi-autobiographical in that it draws on my experience of losing a close loved one.
The film is my attempt to create a portrait of a family reflecting on their connection to each other, both with people who are living and those who have passed on.
What’s your connection to Philly?
I’m a transplant to the city, but in a sense, I grew up here. I moved to Philadelphia for college and have pretty much been here since. In 2015, I began volunteering with BlackStar Film Festival and Scribe Video Center. They aretwo incredible film organizations in the city where I sharpened both my artistic sensibility and political understanding. BlackStar became my film school.
How has Philadelphia inspired you as a filmmaker?
During my six years as a volunteer and staff member at BlackStar, I watched hundreds of movies from filmmakers of all scales and sizes, learning from people who make work across genre, duration, approach, and attitude. This was a formative, nurturing environment for me as a young person interested in the arts, and it inspired me to pursue a life in independent cinema.
A decade later, I’m still in Philly making work with many of the people I met at BlackStar.
How valuable is BlackStar for filmmakers of color?
BlackStar places cinematic work within a context of cultural organizing, which inspires attendees to think about the aesthetic and social implications of the work. It’s about more than watching a movie. The films, panels, side convos, and parties create a container for dialogue, exchange, and uplift around the pressing issues of our time.
Your favorite Philly bar or hang when you’re out on the town?
Blue Corn in South Philly.
Louis Massiah at the Scribe Video Center in Philadelphia on March 12, 2024.Courtesy of Laurence Kesterso
Louis Massiah
‘Tenants of Lenapehocking in the Age of Magnets’
Aug. 6, 5:30 p.m., Perelman Theater and streaming virtually
In your own words, what’s your film about?
Tenants is a biography of North Philadelphia, as told through the personal stories of 10 present-day and former residents.
It reminds us that we live on a patch of land that wasstewarded by the Lenape for millennia. The period that the film covers is the late 19th century to the mid-20th century, the Age of Industrialization and the Great Migration of Black people from the South to Philadelphia — the Age of Magnets.
And the idea of Tenants is to make clear the impermanency of home. The visuals of the film come primarily from the extraordinary photo archives of the Charles L. Blockson Afro-American Collection at Temple, specifically the photographs of John Mosely.
What’s your connection to Philly?
I’m a lifelong North Philadelphian, still living in the family house where I grew up. And it’s funny, I seldom say Philly. The word Philadelphia helps me stay clear about the history and complexity of the place.
How has Philadelphia inspired you as a filmmaker?
Philadelphia has been a center of time-based media storytelling, film culture, and film industry — from the work of Sigmund Lubin beginning in the late 1890s to the independent film and video movement that blossomed in the 1970s and 1980s.
I must add that my father, Frederick Massiah, was the contractor who built the Royal Theater on South Street. Film for me is very much a Philadelphia thing and a personal thing.
How valuable is BlackStar for filmmakers of color?
What the visionaries of BlackStar have understood is that film is meant to be a communal activity. A film screening is an opportunity to bring our best selves together to share. BlackStar allows film to be part of a much larger project of building and strengthening community. Film is the inspiration of necessary conversations.
Your favorite Philly bar or hang when you’re out on the town?
It’s a toss-up. Madis Coffee shop in West Philadelphia is my place to be nourished if I’m at Scribe Video Center on Lancaster Avenue. If I’m in North Philadelphia, Honeysuckle is the place I dream about because they take food and food culture so deliciously seriously.
The article was updated with responses from Andrés Cisneros and Louis Massiah.
Watching Maori Karmael Holmes’ 2006 documentary Scene Not Heard: Women in Philadelphia Hip Hop is a sweet throwback to the era of Questlove and Mike Nyce on the Tastytreats turntables at Fluid Nightclub.
It’s remembering what it was like seeing Jill Scott, Floetry, Kindred the Family Soul, and the Jazzyfatnastees at Black Lily.
It calls to mind open mic poetry at Crimson Moon coffee shop, the simplicity of Razr cellphones, and the ubiquity of the Honda Accord. Before there were Instagram stories and Facebook feeds, Megan Thee Stallion and Cardi B, Holmes made Scene, an authentically Philly exploration of the life of the lady emcee.
The 44-minute documentary, featuring legendary rappers Bahamadia and Monie Love, deejays Lady B and Dyana Williams, and poets Ursula Rucker and Lady Alma will screen again Friday afternoon at 4:30 p.m. during the 15th BlackStar Film Festival at the Suzanne Roberts Theatre.
A still from Maori Karmael Holmes’ 2006 documentary “Scene Not Heard” centering the experiences of lady emcees in hip-hop. Pictured here is DJ Ultra Violet.Maori Karmael Holmes
“Scene Not Heard is a part of the BlackStar origin story,” Holmes said in a video call last week. She didn’t know it back then but Scene — her thesis project for her Temple University MFA — would become BlackStar’s foundation.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
“There are so many people who identify me with BlackStar, but they have no idea that I’m a filmmaker. They see me as an arts worker,” said Holmes, who has since released several documentaries and directed the music video for India Arie’s 2018 single That Magic.
Friday’s screening is the first time Scene will be shown at BlackStar. Holmes is a little nervous about rereleasing Scene to a new generation of film festivalgoers, but she’s also curious about what they’ll think about watching the film she made when the festival itself was a distant dream.
For Scene, Holmes masters the art of being the silent observer. She gets more than a dozen women in Philly hip-hop to talk candidly about what it feels like to assume roughneck personas or bepressured to dress scantily to be seen on the scene. That couldn’t have been easy when the male gatekeepers at the time were as vindictive as they were entitled. The women talk about their love of hip-hop but don’t deny how the culture marginalized them.
The flyer for the afterparty to the 2006 screening of Maori Karmael Holmes’ “Scene Not Heard” at the International House.Courtesy of Maori Karmael Holmes
Bahamadia cries, recalling how hard it was to break through and how in 2005 she was fighting to remain relevant.
That was 20 years ago. I wondered aloud how she felt now. Holmes wasn’t sure.
Bahamadia is invited to the screening but hasn’t RSVP’d yet. By the end of Scene, it’s clear that Philly B-girls of the late ’90s and early aughts made a way for Cardi, Megan, Tierra Whack, Latto, and Doechii to find their footing in the industry.
“There is so much more visibility for women in hip-hop now,” Holmes said. “It used to be you got one at a time. Nicki Minaj was the last of that era.”
The old and the new at the 15th BlackStar
Scene is one of 91 films from 43 countries featured in the 2026 BlackStar Film Festival, more than double the number of films shown at the first fest in 2012. The festival runs Thursday through Sunday.
This year’s standouts include The Keeper, a horror film by Tananarive Due and her husband, Steven Barnes, scheduled for Saturday, 8:30 p.m., at the Perelman Theater.
Ethiopian filmmaker Haile Gerima’s five-part documentary Black Lions – Roman Wolves: The Children of Adwa will be screened throughout the four-day fest, culminating into a closing-night showing.
“It is the corrective story of the Ethiopian resistance to Italian occupation in Ethiopia,” explained festival director Nehad Khader.
The Daily Jawn Morning Show will return to the Kimmel. BlackStar’s health and wellness program has grown more robust over the years, featuring daily yoga, acupuncture, and breathing sessions.
The Daily Jawn stage at the 2023 BlackStar Film Festival.Daniel Jackson for BlackStar Projects
Earlier this year, Scene went through a 2K restoration and was transferred to a digital file. Itis one of two retrospective films featured at the festival this year. Showing throwbacks, Khader says, pays homage to the independent filmmakers from previous generations.
The second is A Different Image, a 1982 film by Alile Sharon Larkin, exploring Black women’s beauty standards. It will be screened Sunday, Aug. 9, at the Wilma Theater. Like Scene, it speaks to how today’s generation of Black women’s mothers and grandmothers demanded to be seen on their own terms, setting the stage for their agency in this millennium.
“We have so many newcomers to BlackStar,” Khader said. “People of this generation may not know these stories. Scene Not Heard is a revival of Philly history, but it’s also Maori’s backstory.”
After its Philly run, Holmes screened the film at more than 40 hip-hop, women’s, music, and movie festivals between 2006 and 2007. Itwon best documentary at the Denver Pan African Film Festival and best short documentary at the Trenton Film Festival, among other awards.
The BlackStar Film Festival in Philadelphia puts Black, brown, and Indigenous artists center stage. Image is from 2022.Daniel Jackson for BlackStar Projects.
Scene, however, didn’t launch Holmes’ film career. She instead began building platforms for other artists to show their work. In 2007 and 2008, Holmes partnered with the Jazzyfatnastees Mercedes Martinez and Tracey Moore to create the Black Lily Film &Music Festival. It ran for two years.
“We launched with 40 films, from four continents over four days,” Holmes said.
BlackStar Film Festival founder Maori Karmael Holmes in 2021.Daniel Jackson
Today, BlackStar is the crown jewel under the BlackStar Projects umbrella. It operates with a $4 million budget and a staff of 15. It publishesthe biannual film journal Seen and hosts the William and Louis Greaves Filmmaker Seminar at Stanford University. BlackStar is a curation partner for programs at the Barnes Foundation and the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Currently “Freedom Dreams,” a film exhibit Holmes cocurated at the Barnes with its Fleischner Family vice president for engagement of community engagement James Claiborne, is on view.
“The through line for me is curiosity,” Holmes said. “Everything I’ve done, from my exhibitions to my films, is because I’m curious about things. I want to figure out how to make things happen. Sometimes I’m teaching myself along the way. But that curiosity is what fuels me.”
Yesterday’s curiosity leads to today’s conversations.
DJs Sonny James, Lee Jones, Matthew Law, Rich Medina, Ultraviolet, and Mike Nyce at a 2014 party at Fluid Nightclub ( Tim Blackwell / Philly.com )
Friday afternoon’s screening will be followed up Saturday with a panel featuring Holmes, Martinez, and filmmaker Tina Morton. The conversation is to be moderated by Deesha Dyer, Barack and Michelle Obama’s Philly-born former social secretary and author of Undiplomatic. Dyer was a mover and shaker in the scene back in the day, too.
Thanks to the screening of Scene, BlackStar promises to be a reunion of Philly’s hip-hop greats. There will be reminiscing. The scene has changed so much.
The Black Lily is no more. Tastytreats is over. Crimson Moon is closed.
“That film represents a time, the ending of a time, when people went to the culture,” Holmes said. “Now, culture comes to us on YouTube.”
This weekend, we can see the culture for ourselves at BlackStar.
The BlackStar Film Festival 2026 will screen movies throughout Philadelphia from Thursday, Aug. 6, through Sunday, Aug. 9. For a complete schedule, visit BlackStarProjects.org.
