RESURRECT DEAD ON PLANET JUPiTER

Selling LOVE Park

This is a story that deserves to be told. It really did happen to me. (and by me)

—

Years ago while the city of Philadelphia was busy destroying the international destination that was LOVE (skate) Park, I was sitting in my 23rd Street apartment drinking with an old friend. This friend (we’ll call him Alex because that’s his real name and I feel no need to protect his identity) was broke and living with his parents in East Germantown, but for reasons I still don’t quite understand, was wearing a $5,000 Versace suit.

Alex uncorked a fresh bottle of Chimay (he lives large) and passing it to me told me how he was making a living selling people’s garbage on ebay.

“My neighbor threw away a claw-foot bathtub.” He explained. “I got some help and we hauled it up to my (parent’s) porch. It sold for $500, shipping paid by the BUYER. People will buy anything. That there,” he said, pointing to a carved wooden fish sitting on my windowsill. “that could pull in $20. If you get a bidding war going, it could go up to $50, $75!”

The conversation rolled on and I started looking around the apartment for things I could sell. Talk turned to the Berlin wall and the enormous profits generated from its inherent marketability. And then my mind created a sinister idea.

“You know,” I said “ I bet you could sell off pieces of LOVE Park.”

Eventually we got onto other topics, watched a movie or went to Midtown Diner, but that was it. The dye had been cast.

A few days later, Alex walked down to the LOVE Park construction site. He called the foreman over and asked for a piece of broken marble.

“Whadda you want it for?” the foreman asked.

“I’m going to sell it on ebay.”

He explained his entrepreneurial plans, the foreman scratched his head and listened. A few minutes later, Alex was walking home with a nice chunk of stone. Meanwhile, I’ve forgotten about the whole thing and gone on with my life.

A few days later, the rubble sold for close to $50. Around the same time of the sale, 2 things happen.

1. Alex calls me and tells me how well my idea to sell chunks of the park have gone. He broke his piece into half a dozen smaller pieces and is selling them off as fast as he can post them.

2. A group of forlorn skaters go to LOVE Park and beg the foreman for a piece of their cherished heritage. To them, the park is a second home. The foreman, feeling cocky tells them to “fuck off” because he’s selling all the extra pieces on ebay.

It’s the following weekend and I’m walking home from a concert with a couple of friends. As we pass LOVE Park, I remember Alex’s success and regale them with promises of riches. We decide to go for it.

The park is locked tight, surrounded by tall fences and marked with no trespassing signs. For those unfamiliar with LOVE Park, it sits in the absolute heart of center city Philadelphia. It’s surrounded on all sides by five wide and busy roads. Above it looms City Hall. The place could not be any more conspicuous. Breaking into the highly sensitive construction zone was an adventure worthy of an action movie.

Ducking dozens of cars including several police, we climbed a wall, made our way along its narrow ledge to a place where we could hop the fence into the park. One by one, ducking the vision of the hundreds of pairs of nearby eyes, we made it inside unnoticed. Once there we stuck to walls, bending below lights and moving beneath outside sightlines. Like stupid, 22 year old ninjas, we crept towards a large pile of dislodged stone. We loaded our bags with chunks of broken marble and exited the park as carefully as we had entered it. No one saw us and no one stopped us. The mission had been a complete success.

The next day at work, I posted my chunk of LOVE Park on ebay with no starting bid. Within an hour, inquiries started coming in. Excited, I happily responded. Within 3 hours I had my first bids.

And then…

An angry email. A skater message board found the auction. Thinking I was the foreman (who denied them chunks of LOVE Park so that he could sell them on ebay) the skater community attacked.

Emails poured in threatening violence and retribution. The auction even caught the attention of a bored City Paper reporter. Out of respect for the feelings of the skaters, shame for trying to turn those feelings into profit and fear for my physical well-being, I took down the auction. And that was almost the end of it…

One skater (we’ll call him Jeff, because I can’t remember his real name and Jeff is a good enough name) emailed me, asking me directly if I actually worked at the LOVE construction site. He filled me in on what happened with the foreman. Until then, I had absolutely no idea. What started with me, also found a way to end with me.

I had another idea.

I googled Jeff and got an address. Later that night, I went to his apartment and rang the bell. There was no answer. Just as I was turning to leave some skater-looking dude came up with a key and asked who I was looking for.

“Jeff?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He said a little suspiciously.

“Hi, I put the LOVE Park auction up earlier today and I want you to have this.” Opening my bag I pulled out my chunk of LOVE Park and handed it to him.

I think that is and will be one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever given someone. Jeff lit up. He told me how much the park meant to him, how long he had been going there and how much he would miss it. He told me how he and his friends were a little too unnerved to try and break in themselves to take some souvenirs. I told him my story and apologized for the anger I had caused for him and his friends. All was again right in the world.

—

I wasn’t the foreman who threatened to sell off pieces of LOVE Park on ebay, but it had been my idea. From my mouth, to Alex’s ambition, to his conversation with the foreman, to the foreman’s conversation with the skaters, to my eventual auction, it was my idea that caused the entire thing to happen.

Never again will I try to sell something I’ve looted to someone with an emotional investment in that object. Maybe someday I’ll find another way to steal a piece of otherwise worthless material that someone holds an emotional investment in and give it to them free of charge. Funny which one is legal.