The thought returns early every December as Ed Barkowitz asks himself why he still does it. He has organized a toy drive for 23 years, a task that feels more arduous each December. He’s 55 years old, teaches a college course, works with his family business, stays active as a freelance writer, and has to deal with the ever busy — and ever growing — holiday season.
“I’m thinking I must be nuts,” Barkowitz said.
But the donation boxes throughout his South Philadelphia neighborhood soon fill with toys. His friends — especially the ones he worked with for more than 30 years at the Daily News — soon pack a corner bar on a Friday night. And then he watches his nieces and nephews use the money collected to buy enough gifts for more than 50 South Philly families to have presents on Christmas morning.
His tradition started on a whim one December when Barkowitz found himself behind the bar at Downey’s, the since-closed Irish pub on South Street. Barkowitz made $100 but didn’t feel right keeping the cash so close to Christmas. So he bought toys and dropped them into a donation box. A tradition was born.
A year later, he held a fundraiser at Downey’s to raise money for a toy drive. It became a thing, a packed event every December where former Daily Newsers get together and tell old stories. Other people filter in — neighborhood guys, Big 5 basketball coaches, even Chase Utley once — and everyone knows that the tips are for the kids.
It’s easy then for Barkowitz to remember why he still does it.
“The parents come in to pick up the toys and they’re crying,” said Nicole Holt of Whitman Council, the neighborhood group that helps Barkowitz deliver the toys. “Or after Christmas, we’ll get phone calls because we made their kids cry and how appreciative everyone is. It’s like, ‘Oh my God, my kid had an unbelievable Christmas’ or ‘You made my daughter cry because you gave her this.’ We get thank-yous the whole month of January. It’s for the kids who deserve a Christmas but their parents can’t give them a Christmas.”
A Daily News friendship
Barkowitz’s father served in the Army with Frank Dougherty, who wrote for the Daily News under the byline the Phantom Rider.
“He would break SEPTA’s [chops] when an escalator wasn’t working or service was bad,” Barkowitz said. “He was terrific.”
The Phantom Rider helped Barkowitz get an entry-level gig on the paper’s news desk after he graduated from St. Joseph’s Prep. It didn’t take long for Barkowitz, who grew up at 4th and Porter, to find his way to the sports department.
He became a valued utility player as he could create a graphic, write a headline, cover a Phillies game, and write 50 interesting things about an athlete you didn’t know were interesting.
The People Paper with the back-page headlines had can’t-miss writers like Phil Jasner, Rich Hofmann, Dick Jerardi, Ted Silary, and Stan Hochman. They also had guys like Barkowitz, who could fill in anywhere.
“You couldn’t have a better friend than Eddie,” said Pat McLoone, Barkowitz’s former sports editor. “I remember when we moved the offices to Center City, and you couldn’t walk down the block at lunchtime without someone stopping Eddie. He has his hands in everything. He’s just friends with everyone and so well-connected.”
Barkowitz’s desk at Broad and Callowhill was next to Mike Kern, who covered college sports and has the Northeast Philly-est of Northeast Philly accents. Kern complained one Monday morning about his son’s T-ball team — “They friggin’ stink,” he said — and a friendship was born. “That’s my kind of guy,” Barkowitz thought.
So it makes sense that Kern is behind the bar every December with Barkowitz, pouring Guinness for Jay Wright after they tell the coach he would be crushed for drinking red wine in an Irish spot. They became the perfect pair when the place was packed and the donations were flowing.
“Eddie has a kind heart and soft spot for kids and this is his way of giving back,” McLoone said. “But it comes off as just another Friday night for him at a bar surrounded by people who know him.”
‘We did it again’
The toy drive used to collect enough toys to fill a small pickup truck.
“Now I have to use a 20-foot truck,” said Barkowitz, who freelances for The Inquirer.
Barkowitz places boxes in South Philly bars and diners for people to drop in toys. More toys — even bikes — are brought to the bar on fundraiser night. The tips that night are used for more gifts, and everything is dropped off to Holt, who makes sure they get under the right trees.
“Look, I’m a Northeast Philly person. But South Philly knows how to do some things,” Kern said. “They just know how. And this is one of those things. I’m not saying Northeast Philly or North Philly or West Philly [people] don’t. I’m sure there’s people in all these neighborhoods who are doing things for people. But I’m sure there’s a lot of families and kids who are touched by what Eddie does.”
The toy drive was Barkowitz’s idea, but he takes little credit. He says Kern helps draw people to the bar, his girlfriend, Amy Reilly, keeps it churning by “doing the things that don’t show up in the box score,” and his nieces and nephews do the shopping before Holt takes it to the finish line.
Barkowitz said he has plenty of “elves.” But none of this would have happened if he pocketed the money he earned years ago at Downey’s.
“It’s a wonderful thing Eddie does, but he just does it so naturally,” McLoone said. “Kern with him is the perfect wingman. He has these Christmas balls hung around his neck. People are asking for drinks. Eddie knows his way around the bar, and Kern has no clue but he’s laughing through it and throwing out crazy lines. It’s one of those only-in-Philly things.”
This year’s event is Friday at Wolf Burger at Front and Wolf Streets. The bar will be packed, and old stories will flow. Bob Cooney, another former Daily News scribe, will be behind the bar because Kern is on vacation.
“It’s almost like one of those things that you can’t miss,” said the guy who is missing it. “I’ll never cease to be amazed by the generosity of people who come, give you a $20, and say, ‘Give me two beers.’ I go to give them the change and they say, ‘No, put it in the thing.’ That happens 50 times a night. People want something to feel good about.”
The event is a chance to see people you may only see once a year.
“It’s sort of like an annual Christmas party for the misfits, which is what we were,” Barkowitz said. “We were a tabloid littered with talent. We were always competing against The Inquirer, and we had a little bit of a bunker mentality. We didn’t have the resources, perhaps, but that worked in our favor. We didn’t get every story, but we never got outworked. We really enjoyed being that Island of Misfit Toys.”
The best part comes at the end of the night when the bar is nearly empty. Barkowitz will sit at the bar and count the money collected. Another record year, he tells Kern. No longer does he need to ask himself why he still does it.
“We sat there and looked at each other and said, ‘Man, we did it again,’” Kern said. “It’s just a great feeling that all of these people came out and gave stuff to people they didn’t know. Then two days later, Eddie sends the photo of his nieces and nephews with all the gifts. You sat there and you said, ‘You know what? That’s pretty cool.’ No kid should have a bad Christmas.”
