The Rittenhouse Review

A Philadelphia Journal of Politics, Finance, Ethics, and Culture

Wednesday, March 31, 2004  

Still Tight

Here we are, past 30 days after which I vacated my last apartment -- that in the building regular readers know as one “managed” by a certain “Miss Thing” -- and I have yet to receive in return my security deposit.

We’re not talking pocket change here, people; at least not what I currently define as pocket change. We’re talking about $2,120.00, plus interest.

You know, for a woman who “manages” a building in Center City, Philadelphia, in which there are, currently, exactly three black tenants living in the building’s 190 apartments [Ed.: I asked the doorpeople.], this woman has one helluva nerve.

Let’s do the math: 3 / 190 = 0.016, or 1.6 percent. (And that’s based on numbers of apartments, not numbers of residents. If we assume 1.25 residents per apartment, just for the “fun” of it, that takes it down to 1.3 percent.)

Damn. I don’t what kind of outfit she’s running over there, or whether this is intentional or merely some strange coincidence or happenstance, but if that’s not de facto segregation, I don’t know what is.

Hell, I think Villanova, one of the city’s most exclusive/expensive suburbs, is blacker than that.

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