Pal Joey

Firestarter?: Joey Temple, a self-proclaimed lieutenant of Mayor Streetís ever-newsworthy brother Milton, says he had nothing to do with vandalism at a Katz campaign office. Photo By: Mike Mergen

The rec-center employee and Street supporter at the center of the firebomb controversy says he was framed.

by Daryl Gale

The city has been abuzz for a week now about the alleged unlit firebomb that was thrown into the North Philadelphia campaign office of Republican mayoral hopeful Sam Katz. Hereís what we know for sure:

For just over a month, the Katz campaign has rented space for a satellite campaign office on the first floor of the Wharton Centre, on 22nd Street near Cecil B. Moore Avenue, from building operator Lewis Harris. Through the years, the Wharton Centre has been home to various community-based and nonprofit agencies and still houses a drug rehab and counseling facility.

Sometime between last Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, someone threw a brick and a bottle through the window of Katz's office there. A building manager found the bottle and threw it away, presuming it was left by painters working there. Only after discovering the two broken windows, the brick and a gasoline-soaked rag did the manager call police.

The incident, quite naturally, sparked a political controversy. In published reports, Harris claimed to be the victim of verbal harassment since renting the space to Katz, most recently on the very afternoon prior to the incident.

Harris was involved in two arguments last Tuesday afternoon. One was with city Deputy Managing Director Tumar Alexander, who was accompanied by Mayor Street's son Sharif; the other involved Joey Temple, local community activist and part-time city employee. (Late Tuesday afternoon city Managing Director Philip Goldsmith announced that Tumar Alexander would be suspended for seven days without pay in connection with the incident for "giving the appearance of violating the Philadelphia Home Rule Charter," which prohibits city employees from participating in political campaigns.)

Alexander and Sharif Street admit they were in the neighborhood Tuesday to scout locations for a satellite office for the Street campaign. While media types and neighborhood folks spent most of last week speculating on the role of Street's son and a high-level city official in the brouhaha, Temple believes he's being set up for a fall.

Temple works part-time as a community-service coordinator at the Martin Luther King Jr. Recreation Center, directly across the street from the Wharton Centre. He admits to arguing with Harris, but says the heated exchange had less to do with politics than with macho posturing. Most of all, Temple claims, he had nothing to do with any Molotov cocktail, and resents having his name brought up in connection with what he considers a dirty campaign trick.

"I didn't create this situation," Temple says, easing into a chair at the dining room table of his comfortable North Philadelphia home. "I never even had words with him [Harris] before Tuesday. And then it was just over something stupid."

Temple says he was on his way to the store for a soda when he was stopped by a young lady who wanted to talk to him about neighborhood issues. As the two stood in front of the Wharton Centre, Temple says he was confronted by a second woman who works in the Katz office.

"Some woman came out and said I had no business being over there," Temple says, his voice rising. "I told her I was having a conversation with this young lady and that it was a public sidewalk. Who is she to tell me I can't stand there talking? So I told her to mind her business."

Just then, Temple says, Harris emerged from the building and the conversation got more heated.

It's no secret that he's a strong supporter of Mayor Street's re-election and well-known in the community, says Temple, who believes that his very presence on the sidewalk provoked Harris. A former employee and self-described "lieutenant" of Milton Street -- the mayor's brother -- Temple says he's been close to the Street family since Sharif was a baby.

"Lewis came outside and asked what I was doing there," he says, "and said I was only over there to start trouble. Now, I was only talking to someone who asked me to stop for a minute, and he says I'm trying to start trouble. I told him it was a public street and I can stand wherever I want. He called me a troublemaker and told me to get away from the building. That's when I got pissed."

While he and Harris exchanged words, Temple insists he never threatened to harm the building. He did, however, threaten to harm Harris. (Repeated calls to the Wharton Centre seeking comment from Harris were not returned.)

"I told him to get out of my face or I'd knock him down," Temple says. "I know I shouldn't have said that but he was in my face. It wasn't about him renting to Katz; it was just a stupid argument about ego. I did tell him that he would be hearing from the community about renting to Katz, but I think people have been telling him that all along."

Temple says that Harris whipped out his cell phone and dialed 911, a signal that Temple should clear out of there fast, but he didn't budge.

"Now he's calling the cops, right? Because I told him I could have a conversation on a public street?" Temple asks. "No, I wasn't leaving, because I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I run because he calls the cops?"

Temple says he waited patiently for police to arrive, and when they hadn't come within 10 minutes, he just returned to the rec center. (He says the young woman he was talking to left when the argument started.)

Temple says he spent the next half hour or so catching up on some paperwork before hopping 33 bus to Center City to deliver the paperwork to Fifth District City Councilman Darrell Clarke's office.

"I came back about an hour later and my co-workers told me the cops had been there looking for me, and would be back later," he says. "So I waited at the center for a couple of hours, then went home to check on my son."

After seeing to his son, who suffers with mental disabilities, Temple says he again headed back toward the center. While waiting for the bus at 22nd and Sedgley, a black SUV pulled up beside him and rolled down the tinted windows.

The epi-centre: Sometime between last Tuesday night and the following morning, the Wharton entered the mayoral fray.

Photo By Mike Mergen

"Tumar was driving and Sharif was in the front seat," says Temple. "They told me they had just left the Wharton Centre, and had words with Harris. I told them I had words with him earlier, and they both said I should be cool because Harris and his people were agitating. That's the word he used, agitating. That's when I figured they'd try to make this into a political fight. I figured just to keep the peace and to show that the neighborhood isn't lined up against him, I would apologize as soon as I got back."

Arriving back at the rec center, Temple typed a simple apology letter, the original of which he gladly produced when asked:

To Whom It May Concern:

I would like to humbly apologize for my actions from earlier today, 8/26/03. I would appreciate it if you and those in your building would keep me out of your political affairs.

Respectfully yours,

Joey Temple.

"We both said things we shouldn't have said, I'll admit that," Temple explains, "but I didn't want people to make it into something political. It was just some bad mouthing that got blown out of proportion. I handed Harris the letter and apologized again and he shook my hand and said that it was over. So I went back to the center, finished my shift and went home."

Temple says he was in bed by 10 p.m. and didn't hear anything about a brick or bottle being thrown through the window until the following day. He was leaving the house, he says, when a neighbor told him his name was just on the radio in connection with a firebomb.

"The next thing I know," he says ruefully, "everybody is coming after me. My brother heard about it in Washington, D.C., and called to see if I was all right. Some idiot reporter from Channel 6 asked me if I hate white people and if I ordered a hit on the building. Who am I, John Gotti? Ordered a hit? Damn! Can you believe this shit? I would not sacrifice my status in the community for some stupidity like this, yet the media is quick to smear my name and assassinate my character. I think it's a political frame-up to discredit the Honorable John Street and his re-election, but I can't prove that. I'll tell you what I know for sure, and that's I didn't do it. I don't know who did it and I don't know anybody who knows who did it."

Despite his name being bandied about for a week in connection with a crime, Temple says that as of Monday afternoon, he still hadn't spoken to a police officer or any official investigator.

"I went back there to apologize, to try to nip this thing in the bud, and this is what I get," he laments. "People have been looking at me funny, like I'm guilty or something. This is a black mark on me, on the Martin Luther King Center, and on the mayor's campaign, and that's wrong. It's unfair. I didn't do anything but get in a stupid argument with somebody."

Shattered: Never before has a broken window become the political mess that this one has.

Photo By Mike Mergen

Temple says the notion that Katz doesn't have a right to open an office in North Philly is nonsense. Some in the neighborhood may feel that way, he says, and he said as much to Harris in the course of their argument, but he isn't one of them.

"Katz has a right to campaign or open an office anywhere he wants, just like Street does," he says. "If he's going to represent all the people, he should be in all the neighborhoods. That's just fine. Everybody knows I'm for Street, but I don't have anything against Katz, or Harris either."

After returning from a family vacation in Niagara Falls last Wednesday evening, Mayor Street issued a statement promising a full and fair investigation into the matter, and in the meantime asking for cooler heads to prevail. Maybe, the mayor, suggested, the city could institute a "no-taunting" rule, similar to the NFL.

"Many of the people involved in this incident know each other," Street said. "People ought to be encouraged to stay to themselves, mind their campaign and leave other people alone."

Katz, speaking at a press conference the next day, said that threats and intimidation cross an invisible line of campaign civility.

"That kind of activity and behavior is a stain on Philadelphia and it cannot and should not be tolerated," Katz declared. "I hope and believe that I speak for the mayor when I say that neither of us wants to see anyone hurt during the course of this campaign. There are 70 days left in this campaign and the safety and lives of all Philadelphians should not be at risk over the issues that divide Sam Katz and John Street."

Temple's current priorities are keeping his job, his freedom and his good name. While no one has threatened his position at the center yet, he worries that continued news reports associating him with a firebombing could make his presence a liability.

"I'm not an arsonist," he says, shaking his head sadly. "I'm not a terrorist. I have a big mouth, but I wouldn't harm anyone. I've been tried and convicted in the media and I'm totally innocent. I'll tell you what -- I'm not going to be the fall guy."