2000 Green Street

Photo By: Michael T. Regan

What's the deal with the Latin-style homes in a sea of Fairmount brownstones?

by Doron Taussig

The 2000 block of Green Street is the site of frequent pauses. The street is technically in Fairmount, but if there is an "Art Museum area," this is in the heart of it. Most of the buildings are three-story row homes; the fashionable Tavern on Green sits on one corner; the J&K Deli, an upscale bodega, occupies the other. Then, on the south side of the street, there is something so out of place that passersby stop and turn their heads.

Eight homes, all connected and one story high, occupy about a quarter of the block. They are yellow, with red terra cotta roofs, and archways. And though the surrounding neighborhood is young and mixed race, almost all the residents of this development are older and Latino. Essentially, the strip of land looks like it could have been plucked out of a Latin American country and plopped down, unaltered, in the middle of Philadelphia.

On a recent Thursday morning, the residents of the homes are going about their business: Jose Fontanez, a security guard at the Hilton Hotel, is having his morning coffee and cigarette under his archway. Carmen Santiago is watering her flowers and Benjamin Gonzalez, an older man in an Eagles cap, is standing outside enjoying the sun. Initially, all of them say there's nothing special about their quarter of a block — to them, it is just a quiet home. But over the course of a morning's conversation, a history emerges.

Thirty-some-odd years ago, the Art Museum area was a completely Puerto Rican neighborhood. A Pastor from the local "Spanish Chapel" (Capilla Catolica Hispana De La Medalla Milagrosa, or Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal, which is still located on the 1900 block of Spring Garden), who may or may not have been named Father Gravriel, set out to arrange for a few low-income families to become homeowners in a new development. Though the details of his arrangement have grown murky with time, the product of his plan was what became known as Spanish Village One, or now simply Spanish Village, and the homes were sold to a few young local families.

VIDA DE LA CALLE: Benjamin Gonzalez (left) sees people stop and stare at his home. He says that, besides the appearance, there's nothing unique about this Fairmount development.
Photo By: Michael T. Regan

"We were very lucky," says Santiago. Most of the current occupants were original owners. They say they don't know how they were picked, though the fact that four consecutive homes are occupied by sisters may suggest that it wasn't by random lottery.

"I always had a dream of having a house," Santiago continues. "I raised all my kids here." Some children and grandchildren can still occasionally be spotted playing ball in the long back yards attached to the homes.

Because they own their homes, these few families were not priced out when the neighborhood gentrified. They have taken the change in the neighborhood in stride.

"Property taxes have skyrocketed," says Fontanez, "but the neighborhood has gotten better."

As for the pastor who made this possible, word has it he moved to Brooklyn, and then to Spain. Santiago read in Al D'a that he passed away last year. "He was the one that made our dreams come true," she says, stopping her hose for a moment to reflect. She tried to hold on to the article. "I don't know where it is right now," she says, "but I know he's in heaven."