Shelley R. grew up as a gender-nonconforming kid, and she loves the queer and trans community she’s built in Philadelphia — where sometimes she can feel like the seventh wheel when it’s dinner time and the entire party leaves to go on a group date together.
But she’s also ready for something new in romance. Shelley, who The Inquirer is referring to by her first name and last initial because she doesn’t want her experience to reflect on her employer, is a “nontraditional person seeking normal love.”
A 31-year-old trans woman, she just wants a nice, monogamish boyfriend.
Raised by hippies in Boston who were devotees of New Age spirituality, Shelley was assigned male at birth, and as a teenager came out as gay.
“I’ve never had the choice to just be like, ‘This is my boyfriend. He loves me. We live together and we’re hosting a little board game night,’” Shelley R. said.
As a young adult, she attended Hampshire College, a small, very progressive school in Western Massachusetts, where she started identifying as trans. After graduation, she moved to Philadelphia, where she underwent gender-affirming surgery as part of her transition. She describes herself now as a “post-op” trans woman, and told The Inquirer, “I’ve had all that work done. I am essentially the same as a cisgender woman in most of the ways that count, except for one big one: fertility.”
She now lives in West Philadelphia and is seeking what she describes as “typical love.”
“I just want a guy who will commit,” she said.
The following, as told to Zoe Greenberg in interviews and a letter, has been edited for length and clarity.
On being a “post-op” trans woman on the dating apps in Philly
If I don’t mention I’m trans on my profile, then I’ll get a lot of men who will immediately turn me down when they learn I’m trans, either due to prejudice or because they value being able to get their future wife pregnant. The “trans panic” can also be dangerous, if a man feels deceived. People get murdered or assaulted this way.
If I just mention that I’m trans on my profile, with no medical information, many will make incorrect assumptions about my genitals, which could be a deal-breaker for them one way or the other.
If I say I’m “post-op trans,” then I’m putting on my dating profile, “BY THE WAY, I HAVE A VAGINA!!!” which makes me come across as very focused on sex. Most men on dating apps already assume that no matter what I say I’m looking for, I’m looking for sex.
I think I might try putting, “I have a little secret, and I’ll tell you when you get to know me a little more.”
I’m only half-serious about that.
On attracting married men and depressed artists
Married men are strangely drawn to me. I’ve set a rule for myself: no more. They weren’t cheating, it was always an open marriage, and yet they all turned out to be quite close to divorce.
I attract a lot of depressed artists and activists seeking a manic pixie dream girl to experiment with. Breakup conversations with me often include things like, “I understand myself better now, and subsequently have decided to move to Iceland.”
Apparently dating me is a therapeutic journey.
On becoming an accidental role model for her crushes
I was on a little trip with my friends this weekend, and we met this guy from Central Pa. He was cute and he was nice, and I was flirting with him a little bit. Then we get back to Philly, and I got a text message from him that’s like, “You’re so cool and so amazing and so smart. You helped me realize I want to transition.”
That’s another common occurrence: people who date me not actually being interested in me as a person, just in getting to know any trans woman, so that they can figure out if they want to transition themselves. Roughly 50% of the men I’ve dated fall into this category.
On wanting a ‘more typical romance’
I was raised by hippies, I’ve been trans and gender-nonconforming my whole life. All my friends are queer, poly, trans, pansexual.
I’ve never had the choice to be in a monogamous, traditional relationship with a man. I’ve never had the choice to just be like, “This is my boyfriend. He loves me. We live together and we’re hosting a little board game night.”
I just want a romantic relationship, like what people have. I mean, a liberal-blue-state-normal relationship. If he was having a busy workday, I’d cook him a meal. Give him a little massage.
I’m a nontraditional person seeking normal love, and not a polycule. Because I’ve already done the polycule, and my polycule was a disaster.
This story is part of a new series about life partners across the Philadelphia area. See other stories in the series here and here.
If you want to share your story about who you’re navigating life with romantically or otherwise, write to lifepartners@inquirer.com. We won’t publish anything without speaking to you first.
Phil Sumpter, 95, formerly of Philadelphia, celebrated sculptor, artist, art teacher, TV station art director, veteran, mentor, urban cowboy, and revered raconteur, died Thursday, Jan. 1, of age-associated decline at his home in San Juan, Puerto Rico.
A graduate of John Bartram High School and the old Philadelphia College of Art, Mr. Sumpter taught art, both its history and application, to middle and high school students in Philadelphia for 27 years. He was an engaging teacher, former students said, and a founding faculty member at the Philadelphia High School for the Creative and Performing Arts in 1978.
He started teaching in 1955 and, after a break in the 1960s and ’70s, finally retired in 1992. “You are very lucky to have a teacher in your life that believed in you, nurtured you, challenged you, and loved you,” a former student said on Facebook. “Mr. Sumpter did all that and more.”
Other former students called him their “father” and a “legend.” One said: “You did a lot of good here on earth, especially for a bunch of feral artist teenagers.”
Mr. Sumpter (left) talks about his sculpture of Underground Railroad organizer William Still in 2003.
Outside the classroom, Mr. Sumpter sculpted hundreds of pieces and painted and sketched thousands of pictures in his South Philadelphia stable-turned-studio on Hicks Street. Prominent examples of his dozens of commissions and wide-ranging public art presence include the bas-relief sculpture of Black Revolutionary War soldiers at Valley Forge National Historical Park in Montgomery County, the action statue of baseball star Roberto Clemente in North Philadelphia, the Negro Leagues baseball monument in West Parkside, and the Judy Johnson and Helen Chambers statues in Wilmington.
He worked often in clay and paper, made murals, and designed commemorative coins and medals. He especially enjoyed illustrating cowboys, pirates, Puerto Rican jibaros, and landscapes.
His statue of Clemente was unveiled at Roberto Clemente Middle School in 1997, and Mr. Sumpter told The Inquirer: “I think I’ve captured a heroic image, an action figure depicting strength plus determination.”
He was among the most popular contributors to the Off the Wall Gallery at Dirty Franks bar, and his many exhibitions drew crowds and parties at the Bacchanal Gallery, the Free Library of Philadelphia, the Plastic Club, and elsewhere in the region and Puerto Rico. He hung out with other notable artists and community leaders, and collaborated on projects with his son, Philip III, and daughter, Elisabeth.
Mr. Sumpter worked often in clay and paper, made murals, and designed commemorative coins and medals.
He even marketed a homemade barbecue sauce with his wife, Carmen. His family said: “He is remembered for mentorship, cultural fluency, and presence as much as for material works.”
He founded Phil Sumpter Design Associates in the 1960s and worked on design and branding projects for a decade with institutions, educational organizations, and other clients. He was art director for WKBS-TV, WPHL-TV, and the Pyramid Club.
“The word for him,” his son said, “is expansive.”
Mr. Sumpter was friendly and gregarious. He became enamored with Black cowboys and Western life as a boy and went on to ride horses around town, dress daily in Western wear, and depict Black cowboys from around the world in his art. His viewpoints and exhibits were featured often in The Inquirer, the Philadelphia Tribune, Philadelphia Magazine, Dosage Magazine, and other publications.
Mr. Sumpter (in white cowboy hat) views his statue of Roberto Clemente in 1997.
He was an air observer for the Air Force during the Korean War and later, while stationed in England, studied sculpture, ceramics, and drawing at Cambridge Technical Institute. His daughter said: “He taught me how to open the portal to the infinite multiverse of my own imagination, where every mind, every soul can be free.”
Philip Harold Sumpter Jr. was born March 12, 1930, in Erie. His family moved to segregated West Philadelphia when he was young, and he earned a bachelor’s degree in art education at PCA.
He married and divorced when he was young, and then married Florence Reasner. They had a son, Philip III, and a daughter, Elisabeth, and lived in Abington. They divorced later, and he moved to Hicks Street in South Philadelphia.
He met Carmen Guzman in Philadelphia, and they married in 2001 and moved to San Juan for good in 2003. He built a studio at his new home and never really retired from creating.
Mr. Sumpter (second from left) enjoyed time with his family.
Mr. Sumpter enjoyed singing, road trips to visit family in Pittsburgh, and bomba dancing in San Juan. He was a creative cook, and what he called his “trail chili” won cook-offs and many admirers.
“He was a larger-than-life person,” his son said. “He was fearless in his frontier spirit.” His wife said: “His joy for life was contagious, as was his laughter.”
In addition to his wife, children, and former wife, Mr. Sumpter is survived by other relatives.
A celebration of his life was held earlier in Puerto Rico. Celebrations in Philadelphia are to be from 2 to 5 p.m. Saturday, March 14, at Dirty Franks, 347 S. 13th St., Philadelphia,Pa. 19107, and from 2:30 to 4:30 p.m. Sunday, March 15, at the Plastic Club, 247 S. Camac St., Philadelphia, Pa. 19107.
Mr. Sumpter’s work was featured in The Inquirer in 1994.
Each night, Louis-Hunter Kean spiked a fever as high as 104.5. He would sweat through bedsheets and shiver uncontrollably. By morning, his fever wouldease but his body stillached; even his jaw hurt.
He had been sick like this for months. Doctors near his South Jersey home couldn’t figure out why a previously healthy 34-year-old was suffering high fevers plus a swollen liver and spleen. In early 2023, they referred Kean to Penn Medicine.
Louis-Hunter Kean visiting a winery in the Tuscany region of Italy in September 2021. He first spiked a mysterious and persistent fever about a year later in August 2022.
“These doctors are very sharp, and there are a lot of teams working on it,” Kean texted a friend after being admitted to the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania (HUP) in West Philadelphia.
Was it an infection? An autoimmune disease? A blood cancer? Over the next six months, at least 34 HUP doctors — rheumatologists, hematologist-oncologists, gastroenterologists, infectious disease and internal medicine specialists — searched for an answer.
Kean was hospitalized at HUP five times during a six-month period in 2023. His electronic medical chart grew to thousands of pages.
Along the way, doctors missed critical clues, such as failing to obtain Kean’s complete travel history. They recommended a pair of key tests, but didn’t follow up to make sure they got done, medical records provided to The Inquirer by his family show.
Doctors involved in Kean’s care, including at Penn, prescribed treatments that made him sicker, said four infectious disease experts not involved in his care during interviews with a reporter, who shared details about his treatment. Penn doctors continued to do so even as his condition worsened.
Louis-Hunter Kean receives a kiss from bride Ashley Greyson at the October 2021 wedding of his close friend, Joshua Green. Green and Kean graduated from Haddonfield High School in 2007.
“No one was paying attention to what the doctor before them did or said,” Kean’s mother, Lois Kean, said.
“They did not put all the pieces together,” she said. “It was helter-skelter.”
Kean’s family is now suing Penn’s health system for medical malpractice in Common Pleas Court in Philadelphia. The complaint identifies nearly three dozen Penn doctors, accusing them of misdiagnoses and harmful treatments. These physicians are not individually named as defendants.
In court filings, Penn says its doctors did not act recklessly or with disregard for Kean’s well-being, and his case is not indicative of any systemic failures within its flagship hospital. A Penn spokesperson declined further comment on behalf of both the hospital and the individual doctors involved in Kean’s care, citing the pending lawsuit.
The puzzle of Kean’s diagnosis finally came together in November 2023 after a Penn doctor, early in his career, sought help from the National Institutes of Health (NIH).
An NIH doctor recommended a test that identified the cause: a parasite prevalent in countries bordering the Mediterranean Sea. Kean likely got infected while vacationing in Italy, four parasitic disease experts told The Inquirer.
The infection, which is treatable when caught early, is so rare in the U.S. that most doctors here have never seen a case, the experts said.
By the time Penn doctors figured it out, Kean’s organs were failing.
Louis-Hunter Kean and his then-girlfriend Zara Gaudioso at a friend’s wedding in Tuscany in September 2021. Kean and Gaudioso got engaged in early 2023. Gaudioso was smitten by Kean’s good looks and sense of humor.While vacationing in Italy in September 2021, Louis-Hunter Kean and his friends hiked in the foothills of the Apennine Mountains and visited Gran Sasso and Monti della Laga National Park.
A missed clue
When a patient has an ongoing and unexplained fever, an infectious disease doctor will routinely start by takinga thorough travel history to screen for possible illnesses picked up abroad.
A medical student took Kean’s travel history during his initial workup at HUP in June 2023. An infectious disease specialist reviewed the student’s notes and added a Cooper University Hospital doctor’s earlier notes into Kean’s electronic medical chart at Penn.
Those records show Kean had traveled to Turks and Caicos with his fiancée in May 2022. The next month, he took a work trip out West, including to California, where he visited farms, but didn’t interact with livestock.
This was not unusual for Kean, who worked with fruits and vegetables imported from around the world at his family’s produce distribution center on Essington Avenue in Southwest Philadelphia.
Kean’s fiancée, Zara Gaudioso, said she repeatedly told doctors about another trip: In September 2021, about a year before his fevers began, they traveled to Italy for a friend’s wedding in Tuscany.
The couple hiked remote foothills, danced all night in a courtyard, dined by candlelight surrounded by a sunflower farm, and slept in rustic villas with the windows flung open.
“We told everybody,” Gaudioso said. “A lot of Americans go to Italy — it’s not like a third-world country, so I could see how it could just go in one ear and out the other.”
But notes in Kean’s medical record from the Penn infectious disease specialist don’t mention Italy. Neither do the ones the specialist copied over from Kean’s infectious disease doctor at Cooper.
Kean “does not have known risk factors” for exposure to pathogens, the Penn specialist concluded, except possibly from farm animals or bird and bat droppings.
Still, the specialist listed various diseases that cause unexplained fever: Tick-borne diseases. Fungal infections. Tuberculosis. Bacteria from drinking unpasteurized milk.
The possible culprits included a parasitic disease, called visceral leishmaniasis, transmitted by a bite from an infected sandfly. It can lie dormant for a lifetime — or, in rare cases, activate long after exposure, so it’s important for doctors to take extensive past travel histories, parasitic experts say.
The parasite is widely circulating in Southern European countries, including Spain, Greece, Portugal, and Italy.
“Mostly, people living there are the ones who get it. But it’s just a lottery sandwich, and there’s no reason that travelers can’t get it,” said Michael Libman, a top parasitic disease expert and former director of a tropical medicine center at McGill University in Canada.
But few cases become severe. Hospitals in Italy reported only 2,509 cases of active infection between 2011 and 2016, affecting fewer than one in 100,000 people. Infections requiring hospital care in Italy began to decline after 2012, according a 2023 European study by the Public Library of Science (PLOS) journal Neglected Tropical Diseases.
Caught early, visceral leishmaniasis is treatable. Without treatment, more than 90% of patients will die.
In addition to fever, other telltale symptoms are swelling of the liver and spleen and low blood cell counts. Kean had all of those.
A missed test
The infectious disease specialist requested a test to examine tissue biopsied from Kean’s liver, which was damaged and enlarged. Lab results showed that immune cells there had formed unusual clusters — another sign that his body might be fighting off an infection.
In her notes, the specialist identified “visceral leish” as a possible diagnosis, which repeated — via copy and paste — seven times in his medical record. Her request to “please send biopsy for broad-range PCR” repeated five times.
That is a diagnostic (polymerase chain reaction) test that looks for the genetic fingerprint of a range of pathogens.
The test comes in different versions: One looks broadly for bacteria. The other is for fungi. The broad fungal test candetect leishmania, even though it’s not a fungus. However, it’s not always sensitive enough to identify the parasite and can produce a false negative, experts said.
The specialist’s chart note doesn’t specify which type she wanted done.
It’s not clear if anyone asked. The test wasn’t done.
Louis-Hunter Kean (right, with wine glass and tambourine) leads a wedding procession through the small stone village of Santo Stefano di Sessanio in Italy’s Abruzzo region in September 2021.
She did not order a low-cost rapid blood test that screens specifically for leishmaniasis by detecting antibodies made by the immune system after fighting it. She also didn’t order a leishmania-PCR, which is highly targeted to detect the exact species of the parasite.
Nor did the medical record show that the specialist followed up on the results of the broader test she requested, even though she saw Kean on nine of the 13 days of his first hospitalization at HUP in June 2023.
Penn has a policy that a lead doctor on the patient’s case is responsible for making sure that recommended tests get done. The specialist was called in as a consultant on Kean’s case. During that June hospitalization alone, his medical chart grew to 997 pages.
Patient safety experts have warned for years that electronic medical record systems — designed for billing and not for care — can become so unwieldy that doctors miss important details, especially with multiple specialists involved, or repeat initial errors.
A seemingly innocuous step in charting — copying and pasting previous entries and layering on new ones— can add to the danger, patient safety experts say.
That’s how the specialist’s mention of “visceral leish” and her test recommendation got repeated in Kean’s chart.
Marcus Schabacker, president of ECRI, a nonprofit patient-safety organization based in Plymouth Meeting, said “copy and paste” in electronic medical records puts patients at risk of harm.
“The reality is if you are reading something over and over again, which seems to be the same, you’re just not reading it anymore. You say, ‘Oh, yeah, I read that, let’s go on,’” said Schabacker, speaking generally about electronic medical record systems and not specifically about Kean’s case.
Louis-Hunter Kean plays guitar in his younger years. He loved music and shared eclectic playlists with his friends.
When treatments harm
Penn doctors believed Kean had a rare,life-threatening disorder, known as hemophagocytic lymphohistiocytosis (HLH), in which the immune system attacks the body. Instead of fighting infections, defective immune cells start to destroy healthy blood cells.
In most adults, the constellation of symptoms diagnosed as HLH gets triggered when an underlying disease sends the body’s immune system into overdrive. Triggers include a blood cancer like lymphoma, an autoimmune disease like lupus, or an infection.
Penn doctors across three specialties — hematology-oncology, rheumatology, and infectious disease — were searching for the cause within their specialties.
“His picture is extremely puzzling,” one doctor wrote in Kean’s chart. “We are awaiting liver biopsy results. I remain concerned about a possible infectious cause.”
As HUP doctors awaited test results, they treated Kean’s HLH symptoms with high doses of steroids and immunosuppressants to calm his immune system and reduce inflammation.
The treatments, however, made Kean highly vulnerable to further infection.And defenseless against another possible trigger of HLH: visceral leishmaniasis.
At the time, a Penn rheumatologist involved in Kean’s care before his first hospitalization warned about steroids “causing harm” to Kean if it turned out he had an infection. He wrote, “please ensure all studies requested by” infectious disease are done, medical records show.
Steroid treatments would allow the parasites to proliferate unchecked, experts said.
“It’s unfortunately exactly the wrong treatment for parasitic disease,” said Libman, the leishmania disease expert at McGill University.
As Kean grew sicker, he was readmitted to HUP for a third time in September 2023. He texted a friend: “I’m on more medications than I’ve ever been on and my condition is worse than it’s ever been.”
A sampling of Louis-Hunter Kean’s electronic medical records, which ballooned to thousands of pages over five HUP hospitalizations within six months in 2023.
Handoffs between doctors
No single doctor seemed to be in charge of Kean’s care, his family said. And the number of specialists involved worried them.
“Everyone just kept being like, ‘We don’t know. Go see this specialist. Go see that specialist,’” Kean’s sister, Priscilla Zinsky, said.
By fall 2023, rheumatologists hadn’t found a trigger of Kean’s symptoms within their specialty. They turned to doctors specializing in blood cancer.
During the handoff, three doctors noted that they didn’t see the results of the test requested by the infectious disease specialist back in June. They still thought it was possible that Kean had an infection, records show.
“An additional consideration to rule out infectious cause would be blood-based Karius testing (though this would be fraught with false positives),” wrote that doctor, who was still training as a hematologist-oncologist.
A supervising physician reviewed the Sept. 8, 2023, note and signed off on it. The medical records don’t show any follow-up with infectious disease doctors, and the test wasn’t done at the time.
In the coming days, blood cancer specialists struggled to find a link between Kean’s symptoms and an underlying disease.
They thought he might have a rare form of leukemia, but tests weren’t definitive, Kean texted friends.
Untreated HLH symptoms can lead to rapid organ failure, so doctors often start patients on treatment while trying to figure out the underlying cause, said Gaurav Goyal, a leading national expert on HLH, noting that it can take days to get test results.
“You have to walk and chew the gum. You have to calm the inflammation so the patient doesn’t die immediately, and at the same time, try to figure out what’s causing it by sending tests and biopsies,” said Goyal, a hematologist-oncologist at the University of Alabama at Birmingham.
Medical records show that Penn doctors feared Kean was at “significant risk” of “irreversible organ failure.”
They suggested a more aggressive treatment: a type of chemotherapy used to treat HLH that would destroy Kean’s malfunctioning immune cells.
In his medical record, a doctor noted that beginning treatment without a clear diagnosis was “not ideal,” but doctors thought it was his best option.
Four parasitic disease experts told The Inquirer that chemotherapy, along with steroids and immunosuppressants, can be fatal to patients with visceral leishmaniasis.
“If that goes on long enough, then they kill the patient because the parasite goes out of control,” Libman said, explaining that ramping up the HLH treatments weakens the immune system. “The parasite has a holiday.”
A sample of text messages from Louis-Hunter Kean to friends during separate HUP hospitalizations over a six-month period in 2023.
Chemo as last resort
Kean banked his sperm, because chemo infusions can cause infertility. He told friends he trusted his Penn team and hoped to make a full recovery.
“Started chemo last night. It really feels like finally there is a light at the end of the tunnel,” he texted a friend on Oct. 7, 2023.
“I’m gonna get to marry my best friend, and I think I’m going to be able to have children,” Kean wrote in another text to a different friend.
Kean spent nearly all of October at HUP getting chemo infusions. He rated his pain as a nine out of 10. His joints throbbed. He couldn’t get out of bed. He started blacking out.
Doctors added a full dose of steroids on top of the IV chemo infusion. By the end of the month, Kean told a friend he feared he was dying.
A year had passed since Kean first spiked a fever. He no longer could see himself returning to his former life — one filled with daily exercise, helping run his family’s produce store, nights out with friends at concerts and bars, and vacations overseas.
Lethargic and weak, he could barely feed himself. His sister tried to spoon-feed him yogurt in his hospital bed.
He started texting reflections on his life to friends and family, saying his illness had given him a “polished lens” through which he could see clearly. He wrote that their love felt “like a physical thing, like it’s a weighted blanket.”
“I’ve lived an extremely privileged life. I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel bad for myself,” he said in a text. “And I don’t want anyone else to either.”
Louis-Hunter Kean enjoying dinner out with his sister, Jessica Kean, in Manhattan in 2014. Friends and family described him as a “foodie” and health food advocate prior to the onset of his illness in August 2022.
Puzzle solved
One doctor involved in Kean’s care had seen him at Penn’s rheumatology clinic in early June 2023, just before his first HUP hospitalization. The doctor, a rheumatology fellow,urged him to go to HUP’s emergency department, so he could be admitted for a medical workup.
The fellowremained closely involved in Kean’s care, medical records show. Also in his 30s, this doctor shared Kean’s interests in music, fashion, and the city’s restaurant scene, according to Kean’s family.
“They had a rapport,” Kean’s father, Ted Kean, said. “Louis thought a lot of him, and he seemed to think a lot of my son.”
By early November 2023, the rheumatology fellow was extremely concerned, medical records show.
The chemo infusions weren’t helping. Kean still was running a fever of 103. The fellow wrote in his chart that he was worried Kean needed a bone-marrow transplant to replace his failing immune system.
And doctors still didn’t know the root of his symptoms.
The fellowcontacted the NIH, medical notes show.
An NIH doctor recommended a test to check for rare pathogens, including parasites that cause visceral leishmaniasis,according to family members present when the testing was discussed.
The NIH-recommended Karius test was the same one suggested two months earlier by the Penn hematologist-oncologist in training, but with no follow-up.
File of sign on front of Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania (HUP) taken on Tuesday, March 19, 2024.
On Nov. 16, the fellow got the results. He went to Kean’s bedside.
After five HUP hospitalizations over six months, a single test had revealed the cause of his illness: visceral leishmaniasis.
Kean cried with relief and hugged the fellow, joined by his mother and sister.
“‘You saved my life,’” Kean’s sister, Jessica Kean, recalled her brother telling the doctor. “‘Finally, we know what this is, and we can treat it.’”
Kean’s medical chart was updated to note that he traveled to “Italy in the past,” also noting he had visited Nicaragua and Mexico. A HUP infectious disease doctor consulted with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention on antiparasitic medications.
Meanwhile, Kean’s nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. He felt light-headed and dizzy, with high fever. Even on morphine for his pain, his joints ached.
“I’ve been struggling, buddy,” he texted a friend on Nov. 20. “This might be the worst I’ve ever been.”
By Nov. 22, he stopped responding to text messages. He began hallucinating and babbling incoherently, family members recalled. “Things went downhill very, very quickly, like shockingly quickly,” his sister, Priscilla Zinsky, said.
When she returned on Thanksgiving morning, he was convulsing, thrashing his head and arms. “It was horrifying to see,” Zinsky said.
Her brother had suffered brain bleeds that caused a stroke. His organs were failing. He had a fungal infection with black mold growing throughout his right lung, medical records show.
Kean was put on life support, with a doctor noting the still-preliminary diagnosis: “Very medically ill with leishmaniasis.”
“Prognosis is poor,” read the note in his Nov. 29, 2023, medical records.
A few hours later, Kean’s family took him off life support. He died that day.
“All of his organs were destroyed,” said Kean’s mother, Lois Kean. “Even if he had lived, he had zero quality of life.”
Portraits of Lois and Ted Kean’s four children decorate a wall at their home in Haddonfield. Their son, Louis-Hunter, died after contracting visceral leishmaniasis, a parasitic infection he likely picked up in Italy. When caught early, it’s treatable with medication. It’s deadly without treatment.
It’s not clear why the parasites began to attack Kean a year after his return from Italy. Healthy people rarely develop severe disease from exposure to the deadly form of the parasite circulating outside the U.S., experts said.
Most people infected by a sandfly “are probably harboring small amounts of the parasite” in their organs, according to Naomi E. Aronson, a leishmania expert and director of infectious diseases at the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences in Bethesda, Md.
“Most of the time, you don’t have any problem from it,” Aronson said.
Children under age 5, seniors, and people who are malnourished or immunodeficient are most susceptible to visceral leishmaniasis. Aronson said she worries about people who might harbor the parasite without problems for years, and then become immunocompromised.
Libman, the parasitic expert from McGill, said he’s seen six to 10 patients die from visceral leishmaniasis because doctors unfamiliar with the disease mistakenly increased immunosuppressants to treat HLH during his 40 years specializing in parasite disease.
“That’s a classic error,” he said.
Kean’s case “should be a real clarion call” for infectious disease specialists and other doctors in the U.S., said Joshua A. Lieberman, an infectious disease pathologist and clinical microbiologist who pioneered the leishmania-PCR test at the Washington state lab.
“If you’re worried about an unexplained [fever], you have to take a travel history that goes back pretty far and think about Southern Europe, Iraq, Afghanistan, India, and maybe even Brazil,” Lieberman said.
In the wake of Kean’s death, his family was told that Penn doctors held a meeting to analyze his case so they could learn from it.
An infectious disease doctor called Zinsky, Kean’s sister, to let her know about the postmortem review and shared that doctors discussed that Kean had likely picked up the parasite in Tuscany.
“Why didn’t you guys have this meeting,” she asked, ”while he was alive?”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to clarify that ECRI President Marcus Schabacker was not speaking specifically on Kean’s case.
Lankenau High’s 11th-grade class is tiny — just 25 students.
That’s one of the reasons why closing the school is for the best, Philadelphia School District Associate Superintendent Tomás Hanna said at a community meeting last week.
At small schools, Hanna said, programming options are limited and “what’s left behind is very difficult environment for young people.”
The district proposes merging Lankenau into Roxborough High as an honors program — a move that officials say will maximize opportunities for students at both schools. That proposal has been met with fierce opposition from the Lankenau community, whose members say stripping the school of its identity and removing it from its unique location on 400 wooded acres is unjustifiable.
When the school system dramatically revamped its special-admissions process in 2021, moving to a centralized lottery from a system where principals had discretion over who got into the district’s 37 criteria-based schools, enrollment dropped at some magnets.
For the 2022-23 school admissions cycle, Lankenau, Motivation, Parkway West, and Parkway Northwest — four of the 20 schools tagged to close — had dozens of unfilled seats in their ninth-grade classes.
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The district setacademic standards for admission to those schools, and stopped allowing schools to admit students who were close to meeting academic requirements and who demonstrated they would be a good fit for the individual schools, as had been done in the past. (Officials said they wanted to centralize admissions to avoid demographic imbalances at schools; those four magnets did not have a history of them.)
The district’s using Lankenau’s tiny now-junior class to justify closings infuriated many, including Matthew VanKouwenberg, a science teacher at the school.
Lankenau’s size “is a district-designed and district-created problem,” VanKouwenberg said. Though the lottery was begun for equity reasons, “the result is disastrous.”
But Tonya Wolford, the district’s chief of evaluation, research, and accountability, said Lankenau, Motivation, Parkway West, and Parkway Northwest had declining numbers of students applying prior to the lottery changes.
And for years, those schools accepted large numbers of students who didn’t meet the district’s criteria, Wolford said.
Dramatic enrollment drops after district orders
The data are clear: After the district pushed changes to the admissions process, the four schools all saw dramatic drops in enrollment — and some of them never recovered.
Motivation, in West Philadelphia, had a freshman class of 83 students and a total enrollment of 336 in 2022-23. It saw a 77% drop in its ninth- grade class — just 19 freshman in 2023-24. The school now has 151 students, and the district wants to close it and make it an honors program inside Sayre High School. It is operating at only 15% of its full capacity.
The Lankenau Environmental Science Magnet High School in Roxborough.
Lankenau, in Upper Roxborough, had 91 freshman in 2022-23, then 31 in 2023-24, a 66% decline. It now enrolls 225 students. The school is using 49% of its capacity.
Parkway Northwest had 77 ninth graders in 2022-23, then dropped to 30 in 2023-24, a 61% decrease, and is 60% full. It’s got 248 students this year, and the district wants to close it and make it an honors program of Martin Luther King High.
And Parkway West had 54 freshman in 2022-23, then 19 the following year, a 65% decrease. It now has just 140 students, and is using 40% of available seats. It’s proposed to close and become part of Science Leadership Academy at Beeber.
A staffer who worked at Parkway West as the special-admissions process changes rolled out said they were devastating to the school, which typically filled three-quarters of its slots for incoming ninth graders with students who qualified on every measure, and a quarter by feel.
Parkway West High School, in West Philadelphia, is proposed to close under a Philadelphia School District facilities proposal.
“We found kids who maybe missed one criteria, but they were good kids, and had strong recommendations,” said the staffer, who asked not to be identified because they were not authorized to speak to a reporter.
When Parkway West lost that ability, its enrollment tumbled, and never recovered.
Lankenau community members say interest in their unique school has never waned, but the size of their incoming classes continues to be limited by the district — even beyond the admissions changes.
For the applicant class set to start high school in the fall, 107 students listed Lankenau as their first choice, staff said, and 95 have accepted Lankenau’s school board offer.
But since 2022-23, district officials have limited Lankenau to two sections of ninth graders, and with class sizes capped at 33. So despite having interest and students enough for 99 freshmen, it won’t have staff for more than 66.
In the last few years, staffers said, more than 66 students show up at the start of the school year. But with only enough teachers for 66, classes are overcrowded and some students end up transferring out.
“That is the only reason we lose enrollment,” said Erica Stefanovich, a Lankenau teacher. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if they hadn’t put us in it. This is an artificial problem.”
But, Wolford said the trend lines were clear for Lankenau and other schools.
In 2019-20, for instance, the prior to the district’s admissions changes just 34 students met Lankenau’s criteria, but 81 students accepted offers for the ninth-grade class, Wolford said. That same year, eight students qualified for Parkway Northwest on paper, but 34 were admitted, according to district data.
Schools like Lankenau and Parkway Northwest “were existing without following the criteria,” said Wolford.
Trees, bees, and a Lorax
Lankenau is putting up a spirited battle to stay open.
Last week, an overflow crowd — more than 100 students, staff, parents, representatives from Lankenau’s many partner organizations, and community members — packed the school for a student showcase and district-led meeting about the closure. Some students dressed as trees, bees, and a Lorax, the Dr. Seuss character who “speaks for trees” — to emphasize the importance of their school’s setting amid 400 acres of woods.
Community members at Lankenau High School applaud a student telling district officials why the school should not close. Lankenau is one of 20 Philadelphia School District schools proposed for closure.
First, Lankenau students wowed visitors with presentations — about their study of natural resources, about the experience of foraging for ingredients to brew their own artisan teas — and then, it was down to business. Lankenau is too small, officials said, and the district must find ways to offer a more equitable experience for all students.
“I don’t discount that there is magic inside of these walls,” Deputy Superintendent Oz Hill said. “What I’m sharing with you is if we can take that magic and enhance it with more extracurricular activities, more expanded academic programming, the sky’s the limit.”
The parents, students, and staff in the audience weren’t having it.
Lankenau was just certified to become the state’s only three-year agriculture, food, and natural resources career and technical education program — a designation that took years to achieve, and cannot transfer to a new building.
Officials are proposing closing Lankenau a year and a half from now; that’s not enough time for the district to reapply for the designation for a new Lankenau-inside-Roxborough CTE program.
District officials said at the meeting that they believe their “close relationship” with the state education department will give them enough time to get a new Roxborough program certified in time for the Lankenau closing.
Multiple parents told district leaders they would not send their children to Roxborough High.
And Akiraa Phillips, a Lankenau ninth grader, said she couldn’t imagine attending school in another setting.
In Lankenau’s current setting, “learning doesn’t stop at the desk. Our campus is the classroom,” Akiraa said. “We learn science by being in it. Here, we don’t just talk about ecosystems, climate, and sustainability, we walk through it. That kind of learning sticks with you. You can’t stick this into any random building and expect it to work.”
The community turned out in full force, but politicians and other decision-makers were in the room, too. Three school board members, including president Reginald Streater, attended the meeting.
State Sen. Sharif Street (D., Philadelphia), the front-runner to replace U.S. Rep. Dwight Evans in Congress, said he “was against closing the school,” but noted that the decision didn’t rest with him, and said the state needed to better fund schools “because we have not met our obligation to fully fund the program.”
And Councilmember Cindy Bass said she was particularly incredulous that the district was attempting to close a successful magnet — Lankenau has a 100% graduation rate.
“If it works, why are you breaking it?” Bass said. “I do not understand what the logic and the rationale is that we are making these kinds of decisions. We’re not just closing a school, we’re disrupting the lives of young people.”
Public narratives of American democracy often emphasize founding documents, elections, and constitutional milestones while obscuring the long and contested process through which democratic practice was learned, refined, and sustained, particularly by people denied formal power.
The portrayal of Black civic life in early America is often reduced to suffering, resistance, or individual achievement, but these things conceal a deeper truth.
In 1840, Philadelphia’s Black community numbered nearly 20,000 people. This population was concentrated in the center of the city, including Society Hill, Queen Village, and Washington Square in the south, 41st and Ludlow in West Philadelphia, and Northern Liberties in the north. With this intensive concentration of people, institutions, and ideas, Black Philadelphia was a metropolitan center in its own right.
A thriving community
By 1845, the community sustained more than 17 Black churches, along with 21 public and private schools, two fraternal lodges, more than 80 mutual aid and literary societies, labor organizations, over 600 Black-owned businesses, and a printing press.
Formal democratic structures grew from these institutions. Churches functioned as civic laboratories, and mutual aid societies were exemplars of rules-based organizations.
Philadelphia was where Black life cohered into a national political identity. People who had defined themselves as African, Caribbean, Indigenous, enslaved, or free identified themselves collectively as African American.
By 1814, the Black Philadelphians were organized. They defended the city at Gray’s Ferry during the War of 1812. In 1817, they met at Mother Bethel, the country’s first African Methodist Episcopal Church, to decide if they would consider emigration to Haiti or Africa. “No!” was the resounding answer.
Black organizations in Philadelphia served as national models. Conventions at Mother Bethel spawned the Colored Conventions Movement beginning in 1830, which extended concepts of civic and human rights across the United States. Constitutional scholar James W. Fox Jr. argues that these conventions articulated a national constitutionalism rooted in the Declaration of Independence, asserting that human rights were inherent and not contingent on state or local laws, a concept far ahead of its time that anticipated the post-Civil War ideas of citizenship and rights.
A melting pot
Black Philadelphia was its own melting pot, too. People arrived from the Caribbean, including Haiti, bringing revolutionary ideas. These ideas moved outward from Philadelphia nationwide and across the Atlantic through transnational anti-slavery networks. Anti-slavery Black activists Olaudah Equiano and James Somerset moved between London and Philadelphia in the 1760s. A song written by the Philadelphia-based pastor Shadrach Bassett was discovered in the papers of Nat Turner, the enslaved man who led an uprising in the Carolinas in 1831.
The understanding that there are civic rights within a democracy was a foundational concept for Black Philadelphians. In fact, we see an early use of the term “civil rights” in the records of the Social, Civil, and Statistical Association in 1863, nearly a 100 years before the 20th-century civil rights movement.
A Nov. 12, 1862, entry from the Social, Civil, and Statistical Association, showing the use of the words “civil rights.” C.S. Statistical Association of Philadelphia, Civil and Social Committee of Superintendence, Constitution, By-Laws, Roll, Minutes [Ams .54, Part 2]
Other examples: In 1842, after mobs destroyed the newly built Beneficial Hall, Stephen Smith sued the city for not protecting the structure. Smith won his case, setting a very public example of Black Philadelphians’ assertion of rights through the rule of law.
In 1861, after the Rev. Richard Robinson was forced to ride outside a trolley during a storm and died when it crashed, Black leaders organized legal aid to support his widow and challenge transit segregation.
In 1867, Caroline LeCount refused to surrender her seat on a streetcar. After being forcibly removed, she obtained a certified copy of the law, returned with a magistrate, and confronted the conductor. He was arrested on the spot.
Asserting their rights
All of this civic activism occurred before Black Philadelphians were enfranchised citizens.
Black Philadelphians boldly asserted their own democratic rights across the 18th and 19th centuries, all within the context of America’s denial of human rights with enslavement and disenfranchisement.
Yet, even as Black Philadelphians engineered this civic infrastructure, the city refused to acknowledge their achievements. Major historical texts on Philadelphia erased Black institutions entirely. Henry Simpson’s Lives of Eminent Philadelphians Now Deceased, written in 1859, doesn’t even mention Absalom Jones, James Forten, or Richard Allen, or the major religious denomination born here in Philadelphia, the African Methodist Episcopal Church.
Mother Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Society Hill, founded in 1794 and rebuilt in 1809, has long been the locus of Philadelphia’s Black community, writes Michiko Quinones.
No Black churches or institutions appear in Moses King’s exhaustive civic visual history, Philadelphia and Notable Philadelphians, from 1902, a purportedly definitive account meant to define the city’s civic identity.
Arguably, there is a deeper reverence in American public memory for a woman who sewed a flag than for an entire population that defined democracy and held the nation accountable to its own written ideals. That imbalance reveals not just a lack of attention to history, but a refusal to honor people who forced democracy to become real.
The question facing Philadelphia now is whether it will recognize early Black civic engineering as foundational to its identity, or continue to exist with parallel histories, thriving yet separate. There could be no better time to ask than the 250th anniversary of our country’s founding.
Michiko Quinones is the lead public historian and cofounder of the 1838 Black Metropolis Collective.
Muhammad Ali plays with his 3-year-old daughter Maryum at his home in Cherry Hill, N.J., on Monday, June 14, 1971.
Sitting on 1.5 acres, the six-bedroom, five-bathroom estate features a kitchen with a large center island and custom cabinetry, a sun-filled greenhouse room, a spacious living area, and an in-ground pool and hot tub, with adjacent basketball and tennis courts. On the lower level of the home is a personal gym and a 12-foot wet bar.
Muhammad Ali, who was defeated by heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, leans back in a reclining chair in his new home in Cherry Hill, N.J., March 10, 1971, as he answered Frazier’s promise to fight Ali again. “Good, we got a rematch, maybe in seven months, might be sooner,” Ali said.
The Champion bought the home for $103,000 in 1971. He moved to Chicago a few years later, according to the New York Times, after his friend, Camden power broker Major Coxson, was shot and killed in his home down the road from Ali’s. A major franchisee of local McDonald’s bought the home from Ali for $175,000.
The backyard and pool area of 1121 Winding Dr. in Cherry Hill, the former home of prizefighter Muhammad Ali from 1970 to 1973. It’s now up for sale for $1.9 million in 2026.
The current owners, who purchased the Cherry Hill homein 2014, traded in the 1970s decor and design for a modern look, converting Ali’s koi pond intoacenterpiece courtyard and fire pit. However, the home retains Ali’s prayer room, which can be found in the lower level, lined with bookshelves.
The main draw is the ample entertainment spaces, includingthe basement bar.
The downstairs bar area at 1121 Winding Dr. in Cherry Hill, the former home of Muhammad Ali from 1970 to 1973. It’s now up for sale for $1.9 million in 2026.
“There’s a spiral staircase from the main level to downstairs and you walk right into this large bar area, with tables, chairs, and a large TV setup,” Nicholas Alvini of Keller Williams said. “It really is a great entertaining house.”
The kitchen, including a large island, at 1121 Winding Dr. in Cherry Hill, the former home of prizefighter Muhammad Ali from 1970 to 1973. It’s now up for sale for $1.9 million.
In recent years, the home has been used for short-term rentals, and“wild parties” led police to visit the home 97 timesbetween 2018 and 2019, according to an Inquirer report. In response, Cherry Hill township councilalmost adopted a ban on Airbnb rentals before eventually tabling the idea after community members spoke against it.
An Inquirer analysis of the decisions and the data behind them shows the proposed closures would disproportionately affect Black students. And despite efforts to minimize the impact, schools in the most vulnerable sections of Philadelphia would also be disrupted.
The closures would mostly address buildings with hundreds of unused seats, though some largely empty buildings were spared. And eight of the closures would affect schools given the district’s worst building condition rating — though 30 more buildings in that category would stay open and receive upgrades of some kind.
Monique Braxton, district spokesperson, said the facilities plan was “designed to provide access to high-quality academic and extracurricular programs across every neighborhood regardless of zip code.”
Most affected students — 90% — would be reassigned to schools with similar or better academic outcomes, and all would be reassigned to schools with either similar or better academics or comparable or better building conditions. Receiving schools will get additional supports, Braxton said.
Overall, the proposal would shake up at least 75 schools, with 20 closing entirely, four leaving their current buildings to colocate within other schools’ buildings, and three moving to new buildings. It would create new schools and, in one case, result in a new building. Nearly50 other district schools would take in displaced students from the closing schools, with some adding grades and others modernizing to fit new programming needs.
Collectively, about 32,000 district students learn in the 75 affectedschools — more than a quarter of the district’s total enrollment — not counting children in pre-K programs.
And those are just the changes Watlington introduced this month. Other shifts, some of them major, district officials said, are expected to be announced by the time he presentsthe planto the school board next month. A final vote is planned for later this winter.
Superintendent Tony B. Watlington (center) speaks about his proposal this month for the Philadelphia school facilities master plan.
The racial impact
The 20 schools that could close have twice as many empty seats as the district’s other schools. But The Inquirer’s analysis found that the closures will hit Black students disproportionately.
Among the closing schools, about 68% of the student population is Black, compared with 40% for the rest of the district’s schools — not including disciplinary or other specialized schools.
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Of the district’s schools where at least 90% of the students are Black, more than half are scheduled to close or take in more students from the closures.
Overall, amajority of students in the 75 schools that could close, take in students, or change in some way are Black, at about 54% of enrollment.
Some majority-Black schools, however, are earmarked for upgrades. Bartram High would get a modern athletics facility after nearby Tilden Middle School in Southwest Philadelphia is closed and upgraded for that purpose.
Nysheera Roberts is the parent of multiple children who attend Waring Elementary, in Spring Garden, which landed on the closure list. Waring now educates under 200 students; its pupils would be sent to Bache-Martin.
Roberts is stunned that her school — which educates mostly Black students like her kids — could close.
She worries about the logistics of getting her kids to school safely further away, then getting to her job in home care in Frankford on time. She worries what will happen to her children, including the niece and nephew she now raises who have lived through significant trauma and have behavioral and learning needs, if they have to adjust to a new and larger school.
“It’s not fair,” Roberts said. “They’re hurting Black kids more.”
Paying attention to vulnerable neighborhoods
In deciding which schools to close or expand, the district considered the vulnerability of the surrounding neighborhood.
Two dozen neighborhood elementary schools were labeled “very high risk,” meaning they have likely dealt with a previous school closure, or the community is otherwise vulnerable to high poverty, housing concerns, or other factors.
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Welsh, in North Philadelphia, was the only school building in a neighborhood labeled “very high risk” to land on the closing list.
Bethune in North Philadelphia and Martha Washington in West Philadelphia will colocate with other schools.
But three schools with building conditions considered unsatisfactory, poor programming options, and “very high risk” neighborhood ratings were left off the closure list. Those schools are Philadelphia Military Academy in North Philadelphia, Sheppard in West Kensington — which has successfully fought off closure in the past — and Francis Scott Key in South Philadelphia, the district’s oldest building, constructed in 1889. Sheppard and Francis Scott Key are both majority-Hispanic schools.
Sheppard Elementary School in West Kensington has faced the threat of closure in the past but was spared in the latest proposal.
The district plan calls for closing five schools in neighborhoods it deemed to have a “high risk” of vulnerability, the level below “very high”: Blankenburg, Harding, Stetson, Tilden, and Wagner.
Watlington has made it clear that the district is phasing out middle schools when possible, in favor of the K-8 model — and of that list, four are middle schools. Only Blankenburg, in West Philadelphia, is an elementary. Also, of those schools in vulnerable neighborhoods, four of the five are rated as having “unsatisfactory” buildings, the district found.
Perhaps no section of the city faces as much disruption from the recommendations as the lower part of North Philadelphia.
Fourteen schools with a combined enrollment of 5,400 students could be affected, including the closures of Ludlow, Morris, Penn Treaty, and Waring.
“If you are closing schools during a literacy crisis, then you should be held directly accountable to the people you serve,” Young said last week.
Right sizing mostly empty buildings
Underused space was a factor in the district’s decision-making, an Inquirer analysis found.
Data released by the district last year identified about 60 schools that were more than half empty. The recommendations attempt to realign some of these schools by taking significant action on 31 of the 60 half-empty schools.
Of the 20 schools the district wants to close, 14 are currently at less than half capacity.
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AMY Northwest, Conwell, Robert Morris, Motivation, Tilden, and Welsh are all recommended for closure, with each educating fewer than a quarter of the students they have room for.
Overbrook High in West Philadelphia — a 100-year-old school with roughly one in four seats filled — would remain open but begin sharing space with the Workshop School, a small, project-based high school located nearby.
Overbrook has received millions in funding from the state for remediation and a new roof. It also has a strong alumni association.
Overbrook High School in West Philadelphia has thousands of empty seats but was not tapped for closure. Instead, The Workshop School, a small, project-based high school now located in another West Philadelphia building, will colocate with Overbrook.
Having a more robust enrollment, however, did not save some schools from landing on the closure list. Harding, Parkway Northwest, Pennypacker, Robeson, and Stetson operate at 50% to 74% of capacity but would still close.
Besides shutting down underused schools, the plan would alter an additional 17 half-empty schools by moving them into colocations, adding grades, or otherwise expanding their use by taking in students from the closing schools.
To make it work, the district’s recommendations often involve a series of logistical steps. A pair of North Philadelphia neighborhood schools built in the 1960s are one example.
Hartranft, a K-8 school in North Philadelphia with a building rated in “good” condition but only 37% occupied, would take in students from Welsh, a school marked for closure. Welsh teaches the same grades but in a building rated “poor” about a half a mile away. The district would then convert the Welsh building into a new year-round high school.
John Welsh Elementary school is on the list of 20 schools proposed to close by the 2027-28 school year.
Getting students out of (some) fatigued buildings
By one city estimate, district schools need about $8 billion in repair costs for 300-plus buildings that are about 75 years old on average. Watlington’s plan calculates the district could do it for $2.8 billion.
Even with some investments over the last decade, many schools still have asbestos, lead, or mold issues. And many schools that don’t have bad building quality ratings still need improvements.
Eight schools recommended for closure are in buildings rated “unsatisfactory” by the district, its lowest score.
An additional 30 schools also rated “unsatisfactory” would remain open under the plan, including some expected to see an increase of students.
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Watlington wants the district to pay for $1 billion of the plan’s price tag with its own capital funds over the next decade. That would leave $1.8 billion unfunded, and he wants the state and philanthropic funders to cover the rest.
If the full $2.8 billion plan is funded, Watlington said, the district could improve every building labeled “poor” or “unsatisfactory.”
To achieve this, some buildings could get the same kind of treatment Frankford High received — a $30 million major renovation project to remedy significant asbestos damage. Students had to relocate into an annex and another building for two years while the work was done.
The district plan calls for some of the buildings in the worst shape to receive more students. Bache-Martin, Catharine, Howe, John Marshall, and Middle Years Alternative are in buildings that need significant upgrades, according to the district’s analysis, but all would take on more pupils.
In the case of Howe, the district wants to add grades to keep students who would have attended Wagner, a middle school that is proposed to close.
The district has said Bache-Martin would receive upgrades if the plan is adopted. For other schools, neither the timeline nor the fixes they would receive are clear.
The recommendations so far only mention a handful of schools set to modernize.
Among them is Comly, a K-5 in the Somerton neighborhood.
Comly now has 660 students enrolled, putting it at 107% of its capacity. But the district recommends modernizing the school and accepting middle grades students from the Comly and Loesche catchments. Students who now attend Loesche, another K-5, go to Baldi Middle School, which is also overcrowded.
Watson T. Comly Elementary School in Somerton. It’s slated to be modernized and accept more grade levels under the district’s proposed plan.
What appears to set schools like Bache-Martin apart from some of the closures is higher occupancy. Together, about two dozen schools that are more than half occupied would remain open, even though the buildings are “unsatisfactory.”
Schools on this list — like Barton Elementary, which runs at about 80% of its capacity — are harder to shutter or colocate if no nearby school has low attendance. That makes building upgrades a more logical solution.
But those two dozen schools are not the only ones in need of significant building upgrades.
An additional 45 schools currently operate in buildings rated slightly better at “poor,” the category just above “unsatisfactory.” The district recommends closing seven of them and colocating two.
And beyond that large number of fatigued schools, many others in poorly rated buildings will remain unchanged for now, with about 10 even taking in more students.
Watlington has said that in total, 159 schools would modernize over a decade if the plan is approved and fully funded, but absent extra state and private money, that number could drop.
With more than 60 hours since the last bit of snow descended upon Philadelphia, the widespread complaints about the conditions of secondary and tertiary streets have reached a fever pitch.
The Philadelphia Streets Department has tried to quell the public’s concerns with daily videos of excavators diligently filling dumpsters with snow. Yet evidence of icy streets and snow banks blocking lanes dominate social media, with city data showing the street conditions vary block by block.
Between 3 p.m. Tuesday and 3 p.m. Wednesday, the city’s GPS data show, about 30% of city streets had been visited by plows. Some areas, like Center City and South Philadelphia west of Broad Street, saw most numbered streets and cross streets hit by plows during that time. Meanwhile, South Philly and Center City neighborhoods east of Broad Street saw little to no reported activity.
The same was true for large swaths of North and West Philadelphia. And neighborhoods like Overbrook, Wynnefield, and Nicetown, which have seen the fewest reported visits from city plow trucks since the storm began, saw only a handful of streets plowed between Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon, according to city data.
On the neighborhood line of Grays Ferry and Devil’s Pocket, Dani Hildebrand was one resident who felt forgotten as the streets around him were plowed and garbage picked up. Hildebrand’s block was supposed to have trash collection come through Tuesday with the one-daydelay announced by the city. But on Wednesday, bags of garbage lined his block.
An unidentified man shovels snow from underneath his car after it became hung up when he was trying to park in the middle of South Broad Street in Philadelphia in the early morning hours of Wednesday, Jan. 28, 2026. Dump trucks filled with snow from the city’s snow removal operations were zooming by as he worked to get his car free.
The 41-year-old father of three said his school-age children yearn to leave the house, even if for an errand, but it’s not in the cards.
“Between piles of snow, trash, and dog pee and poop, it’s not ideal,” he said. “We’ve been stuck in since Sunday, and while I’m close to a market, it’s not safe to walk there with my three kids and I can’t get my car out.”
The city, for its part, has said the snow clearing would take as long as it needs to and the work would continue until all roads are dug out. Residents should expect trash-collection delays as crews navigate the snow and ice. At the same time, officials have consistently asked for patience, noting that the frigid temperatures were not aiding snow-removal efforts.
They have pointed to the 14 teams with more than 200 vehicles and excavators that are trying to move the snow and ice into storage facilities using dumpsters. Future Track trainees with the Philadelphia Streets Department have also taken up shovels to help clear crosswalks in the city.
But, the city notes, this is time-consuming work.
Wanted: Private plowers
Chris DiPiazza, owner of the Passyunk Square bakery Mighty Bread, could not afford to wait for city plows and paid for a private service to clear his street Tuesday afternoon.
After the storm, the bakery was unable to make or receive deliveries because the city had not plowed Gerritt Street, the narrow road it’s on. Adding to frustrations, DiPiazza said, snowplows that had come through the adjacent 12th and 13th Streets had left giant snow piles on both ends of the block.
The 700 block of Hoffman is still covered in snow on Wednesday, Jan. 28, 2026 in South Philadelphia.
A 311 operator said it could take upward of three days for plowing to occur, DiPiazza said.
That news was especially frustrating when residents are expected to do their part by shoveling sidewalks in front of their homes within six hours of snowfall stopping, but the city is not fulfilling its own end of that promise, DiPiazza said.
“The city’s responsibility is to make the streets safe for people to drive, and they didn’t do that,” he said.
SEPTA vs. ice
For SEPTA’s size and reach, the organization is not so different from the average Philadelphian living without a plowed street.
The snow-covered roads were especially difficult for bus routes through secondary and tertiary streets after the storm, SEPTA spokesperson John Golden said.
“Those streets are hard to navigate on a good day,” he said.
The lagging plow service made SEPTA pause service for many bus routes.
“Some of our buses just aren’t able to navigate the streets because of lack of plowing,” Golden said.
SEPTA riders board the 47 bus at 8th and Market Streets with the snow falling on Sunday, January 25, 2026.
But service had returned to all but a handful of routes by Wednesday afternoon. The weekend storm was not particularly onerous for SEPTA compared with other large storms in years past, Golden said,but he noted the frigid temperatures in the days following have made things difficult. Ice is not melting as quickly as it usually does, leaving the roads treacherous.
Golden said that while SEPTA officials have been in frequent contact with the streets department about problem spots, they don’t have any special recourse besides waiting for the city to clear the streets.
How does 2026 compare with 2016?
When the city was smacked with 22.5 inches of snow in January 2016, it was the fourth-largest snowfall in Philly history, and newly sworn-in Mayor Jim Kenney’s first major test in office.
At the time, many side street residents issued the same complaints heard with this most recent storm — they were the last to be dug out, and entire blocks were locked in.
But by the fourth day of storm cleanup, a Kenney spokesperson claimed 92% of all residential streets “were plowed and passable” and the administration was taking in kudos for what many — though not all — said was a job well done.
The front page of The Philadelphia Inquirer’s B section in January 2016, following a major snowstorm that was similar to the January 2026 storm. The article reported some complaints of snow plow delays, but residents were largely complimentary of then new Mayor Jim Kenney’s handling of the storm.
Though 9.3 inches fell this time around, city officials have said the conditions were very different. The temperature drop has been the largest hurdle so far, providing no help in melting the ice. The city still urges patience and says teams are working nonstop.
For parents whose children took part in virtual learning Wednesday and residents who were sick of parking wars and icy crosswalks with another potential snowfall on the way, patience was almost gone.
Residents in North and West Philly shared frustrations on social media of parking shortages because mounds of ice left people nowhere to go; some were even parking at an angle in parallel spots, to the chagrin of others. Bus stops were piles of dirty, frozen ice, and crosswalks remained icy.
For Hildebrand, it was all very discouraging.
“A plan could have been made and implemented, since the city knew about this a week before it happened, but it truly seems like bare minimum effort,” he said.
On the second day her kindergartener was off from his Philadelphia public school because of snow, Karen Robinson shut herself away in her Fairmount home, hoping to take a 15-minute meeting for an important work project.
Her husband had put up a baby gate to signal to 5-year-old Sam that mom was briefly off limits.
Naturally, “my son crawled under the baby gate to come find me,” said Robinson, whose son attends Bache-Martin Elementary. “If I’m working, he wants to be right next to me.”
Superintendent Tony B. Watlington Sr. gave beleaguered parents a reprieve Wednesday afternoon, saying schools would re-open for in-person learning Thursday. But the week was tough for many to navigate.
For parents who rely on hourly work, or jobs that have no remote flexibility, the inclement weather-forced school changes have meant either foregoing pay or figuring out childcare arrangements that are often costly, complicated, or both.
North Philadelphia mom Asjha Simmons’ son attends a charter school that’s been closed — no virtual learning — since Monday.
Simmons runs her own business, so is able to be flexible with her schedule and stay home with her son. But she’s getting antsy.
“I feel forced to be in the house and it’s killing me,” Simmons said. “I would rather be in the gym than in the house. And I don’t even go to the gym.”
Simmons’ son, who’s 12, relishes the down time since “he has every screen known to man on,” she said. She keeps the snacks coming, and it’s all good. (He was less than thrilled when Simmons made him shovel snow, she said.)
Leigh Goldenberg said she was having uncomfortable flashbacks to the pandemic, when her daughter completed virtual kindergarten.
“For me, it’s an emotional regression to that terrible time,” said Goldenberg. “And I feel for the people that didn’t build up that muscle before.”
Virtual school with a fifth grader is much easier than virtual school with a kindergartener, said Goldenberg, whose daughter attends Kirkbride Elementary in South Philadelphia. Her daughter spent 30 minutes on Tuesday completing schoolwork, and managed to keep herself busy socializing with friends online and outside, a short walk away in their neighborhood.
Goldenberg is trying to keep things in perspective — this is not forever, this is not the pandemic.
But, she’s still frustrated.
“All the suburban schools around us went back already, but here in the city, we’re stuck with a giant pile of snow at the end of our street, and it feels pretty unfair,” she said.
Coral Edwards was prepared for Monday’s snow day, but when the district announced a virtual day Tuesday, she began to panic.
“I was like, oh my gosh, there’s a real possibility the entire rest of the week will be virtual,” said Edwards, who lives in Graduate Hospital and has a seven-year-old son who attends Nebinger Elementary and a four-year-old daughter in a private prekindergarten program.
Her daughter’s pre-K is reopened Wednesday with a two-hour delay. And that means dropoff time came when Edwards would haveneeded to be helping her first grader with virtual learning. So instead, she paid to send both children to Kids on 12th, a Center City school open the full day, so she can get her work done as a marketing consultant and leadership coach.
The scramble has also summoned up emotions and frustrations she last experienced during the pandemic, when her son was 1 and his daycare shut down. While she acknowledged that she is “incredibly privileged,” she said the fact thatparents like herself are in such a bind speaks to a larger systemicproblem with childcare, Edwards said.
“There’s literally no one to help us,” she said. “There’s just no systemic support whatsoever.”
Streets are being plowed, SEPTA is running, and trash is getting picked up, “but there’s nothing in press conferences about how we’re supporting parents and students,” Edwards said. “The schools are like, ‘we have this virtual learning environment’ — are we just supposed to pull another parent out of our butts?” she said.
Edwards’ husband works in-person as a research physician running a lab, and the burden of childcare logistics falls to her.
“There’s a lot of rhetoric about supporting parents, and raising women up, … but when push comes to shove, something about our kids’ childcare is changed or tightened, it falls on those people,” she said.
Hannah Sassaman, a West Philadelphia parent of a district fourth grader and ninth grader, is making it through.
“We had another fourth grader live here for 24 hours randomly. I think they went to school? My ninth grader seems to be going to school. We’re just lucky we don’t have little kids,” said Sassaman.
“The questions that I have knowing that the storm was coming for over a week,” Sassaman said, “is what could the administration have done to help resource our sanitation workers and the rest of our incredible city servants to really focus on what it would take to get our kids back in schools, our teachers and the other staff back in their buildings safety to support not just the economy, but also all of the important supports and services kids access at schools every day?”
Evonn Wadkins, 88, formerly of Philadelphia, retired Philadelphia Mounted Police Officer, basketball and football star at Simon Gratz High School, builder, carpenter, plumber, bus driver, and volunteer, died Sunday, Jan. 11, of complications from a stroke at Bryn Mawr Extended Care Center.
A gifted athlete with an innate desire to help others and be part of a team, Mr. Wadkins played basketball and football on Philadelphia playgrounds, in youth leagues and high school, and later with adults in semipro leagues and the Charles Baker Memorial Basketball League. He usually scored in double digits for the Gratz basketball team and went head-to-head against the legendary Sonny Hill and Wilt Chamberlain.
He overcame a severe ankle injury when he was young and retired from the Baker League years later only after age and ailments forced him off the court. He was a “speedy end” on the football team at Gratz, the Daily Journal in Vineland said in 1955.
His name appeared often in The Inquirer and other local newspapers in 1955 and ‘56, and they noted his 55-yard touchdown catch against Dobbins, 25-yard scoring reception against Vineland, and 44-yard scoring catch-and-run against Northeast in 1955.
Mr. Wadkins (right) drives with the ball in this photo that was published in The Inquirer in 1956.
Mr. Wadkins graduated from the Philadelphia Police Training Center in 1963 and spent 11 years patrolling Fairmount Park and elsewhere in the Traffic Division. He transferred to the Mounted Unit — and met Cracker Jack — in 1974, and officer and horse rode the Philly streets together until they both retired in 1988.
“When he went on vacation, nobody could ride Cracker Jack,” said Mr. Wadkins’ wife, Elaine. “They could groom him. But Cracker Jack wouldn’t let anyone else ride him.”
He also worked construction side jobs with neighbors and friends, and learned plumbing, heating, and carpentry skills. “Family and friends are still sleeping comfortably on his one-of-a-kind beds more than 40 years later,” his family said in a tribute.
He drove a school bus for the School District of Philadelphia for 10 years in the 1980s and ’90s, and made friends with many of the students. He moved with his wife to Goochland, Va., 35 miles northwest of Richmond, in 1998.
Mr. Wadkins and his wife, Elaine, married in 1959.
He joined the Goochland chapter of the NAACP and volunteered at the Second Union Rosenwald School Museum. At the Second Union Baptist Church, he mentored boys and young men, and supervised the media ministry.
He was serious about community service. “He never met a stranger,” his wife said.
Evonn LeFrancis Wadkins was born June 4, 1937, in Philadelphia. He was the fifth of six children and earned his high school degree at night school after leaving Gratz early.
He met Flora Elaine Poole at Gratz in 1954, and they married in 1959. They set up house in West Philadelphia a few years later and had daughters Evette and Elise, and a son, Evonn.
This photo of Mr. Wadkins on his horse appeared in the Daily News in 1987.
Mr. Wadkins, familiar with Fairmount Park from his time on police patrol, liked to share historical tidbits when the family drove through. He loved cars and traveled to Canada with his wife and to Germany with his brother to shop for several that caught his eye.
He and his family traveled to Florida for a New Year’s party and to South Dakota to fly over Mount Rushmore. He and his wife cruised the Caribbean and toured the United States and Europe.
He even flew with a friend to two Super Bowls. “He was a man on the go,” his family said.
Mr. Wadkins liked McDonald’s pancakes and coached a few youth league basketball teams, one to a championship. When asked how he was doing, his usual response was: “Livin’ slow.”
Mr. Wadkins enjoyed time with his family.
His wife said: “He was a good provider. He was a great husband.”
In addition to his wife and children, Mr. Wadkins is survived by five grandchildren, five great-grandchildren, a brother, and other relatives. Two brothers and two sisters died earlier.