COLUMN: Location, location?

From Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96 From Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96Penn needs to market itself as America'sFrom Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96Penn needs to market itself as America'sgreat urban university, celebrating theFrom Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96Penn needs to market itself as America'sgreat urban university, celebrating theadvantages of being in West Philadelphia. From Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96Penn needs to market itself as America'sgreat urban university, celebrating theadvantages of being in West Philadelphia.Avoiding assignments last week, I turned on my computer and wandered the World Wide Web, looking up the home pages of our esteemed Ivy League peer institutions. Yale's Web site is cute -- you find information by clicking on the spine of the virtual leather-bound book with the title you need ("Alumni," "Library" and so on). Harvard's home page is, well, boring -- the name's at the top, followed by a lengthy list of links. But what would you expect from a bunch of people whose sole claim to fame is the size of their brains? That's right. Columbia actually takes pride in its urban location (gasp!), promoting the benefits of city life as one reason for prospective students to choose this particular Ivy over other urban schools like Penn. The marketing wizards at SUNY-Harlem are tapping into the increasing desire of American parents to get more for less, telling them that if they shell out $100,000-plus for Johnny or Susie's education, they'll actually get more than they pay for. What a concept: the sheltered collegiate experience, combined with the shock of real life -- in half the time! Why hasn't Penn tried the same tactic? If our admissions staff emphasized Penn's proximity to the refurbished glitz and cultural resources of Center City, instead of continuing to apologize for our West Philadelphia location (the Fiske Guide to Colleges calls our neighborhood "slowly gentrifying" and "grim but livable," not abysmal), Penn could reclaim the title of America's great urban university. But historically, our negative attitudes toward the community beyond 40th Street aren't surprising. Two times in its 256-year existence, the University's trustees have considered proposals to move the University to Valley Forge, due to fear of crime and urban decline. Debate over both proposals was rancorous, heated and lengthy, but to no avail. Also, Penn carries as part of its intellectual baggage a split founding and eventual, rocky reunion between the College of Philadelphia and the University of the State of Pennsylvania -- neither really traceable back to Ben Franklin, but that's another story, for another time. For now, it's enough to say that our dual identity has always been a source of confusion and excuse for feelings of inferiority when compared to other colonial-era colleges like Princeton. So, lacking cars, low on disposable cash and lamenting our heritage as the Ivy League's intellectual stepchild, we pity our location and conveniently forget that there's a world waiting to be explored beyond 34th Street. That's not even counting the sights and attractions on the other side of the city, including Fairmount Park, Logan Square and the Art Museum, Boathouse Row and Kelly Drive and even Main Street in Manayunk. Somehow my urge to go strolling the city, searching out tiny bakeries and boutiques, putting some of myself into the miles of sidewalk that line William Penn's grid of sensibly named streets, always shows up around this time of year. When winter finally breaks, when we can wear shorts again (shorts!) and at long last box up the wool sweaters and ski jackets, there's a human need to see what's changed with the seasons. But my latest attack of wanderlust -- and the inspiration for this column in praise of Penn's urbanity -- came from what I did this weekend. Friends of the family were in town; their son is likely to be a freshman here next fall. I had the task of playing tour guide to this trio, who wanted to see as much of what really goes on in Philadelphia on a typical night as I could show them before they fell asleep. Right. We started by driving through Rittenhouse Square at dusk, which also provided a glimpse of the peculiarly Philadelphian phenomenon of unexplainable traffic (at 7:30 p.m. on a Friday, attorneys and politicians are long out of their offices, and Chestnut and Walnut are still moving at snail's pace? huh?). In search of an authentic cheesesteak, we proceeded to South Street. I tried to explain that the only real cheesesteak in Philadelphia comes from Geno's or Pat's, 24-hour stands on opposite sides of Passayunk Avenue with plastic picnic tables providing the only decor, but there were no takers. Once on South Street, the visitors nixed two steak shops in favor of Pizzeria Uno's. Sigh. They didn't even have enough room left for water ice from Rita's, another Philadelphia institution. After dinner, we ended up in New Jersey on the way to Manayunk, thanks to signs for Route 676 that neglected to mention a unidirectional on-ramp going south. Amazingly, in almost three years here, I hadn't visited this trendy enclave of clothing stores, coffee bars and cafes. In fact, in one night with these out-of-town friends, I probably saw more of what Philadelphia has to offer than I ever have in a single outing. And the variety and proximity of all these attractions made me like this place even more. Sure, Philadelphia's not as bucolic as Dartmouth, as stately as Princeton or as eccentric as Brown, but it's got history, soft pretzels and America's Mayor, Ed Rendell. It's the cradle of liberty, a former national capital and the gateway to the East Coast. It's about time we as an institution started celebrating the benefits of being right where we are.