it's what you want to know
Ah, the good old days, when SAVVY – and, by extension, you – gorged on new restaurants. From high-concept places like Autograph, Bercy and Enoteca Tredici to neighborhood spots like The Choice, Ripplewood, Goat’s Beard and Sontuosa, we rushed out to try them all.
In the last year, sadly, the gush of new eateries has slowed to a drip.
Now, we fear it will dry up altogether.
Because Covid-19 has come to town. And dining out on the Main Line may never be the same.
Frankly, we weren’t going to publish. This coronavirus crisis is too crazy/awful/unwieldy to even begin to unpack. Plus, we weren’t sure how to handle our loyal advertisers, who have enough bills to worry about.
But we’ve been monitoring the Main Line’s New Normal. And while plenty about it stinks, there’s good news worth sharing.
So we’re going ahead. You’ll see our advertisers’ banners and hear some of their corona-coping stories but they won’t be billed. It’s the least we can do.
After a string of hearings sometimes so raucous with foot stomping and chanting that officials asked police to stand sentry, Easttown’s zoning board has – drum roll – ruled on Berwyn Square.
Both sides claim partial victory – although, arguably, the bigger win went to the developers.
But this one’s far from over.
T/E is in the news again and not for its test scores.
The school district is grappling with its response to a family whose kindergartner with Down Syndrome was reported to Tredyffrin Police.
The six-year-old’s offense? Pointing her finger and saying, “I shoot you” to her special ed teacher at Valley Forge Elementary.
JP Weber clearly remembers the day he died.
“I can’t go back there,” he thought on June 3, 2016. “I’m never going in there again.”
An elite loan originator for PNC Bank, Weber quit his job that late spring morning and walked, blindly, off a cliff. The old JP – people-pleasing, Percocet-popping, life-of-the-party JP – long crumbling, collapsed completely. And ever-so-slowly, canvas by canvas, rose up and pieced himself back together.
Pinstripe-suited Joseph Paul Weber was buried that Friday morning. Ponytailed, self-actualized artist @JohnHamster was born.
What some call a complete mental breakdown, Weber, 43, calls The Undoing.
Troubled waters at Life Time Athletic in Tredyffrin.
The entire facility closed for a few days this week after “a loss of water flow” due to “a construction error,” according to the club’s messages to members.
Wait, the building was “constructed” in 2017 and they’re just finding the error now?
Confused, we reached out to corporate.
Life looks a lot different after you’re hit, dragged and pinned under a 20,000-pound truck. Just ask Bala Cynwyd’s Jennifer Robinson, who in 2008 nearly lost her life during a sunny stroll on Penn’s campus. In a blink, she went from a newly- wed, rock-star litigator to mangled victim, fully conscious and terrified as EMTs swarmed around her.
Fast forward to 2019 and a reborn Robinson, 46, is finally able to talk about her accident, about the devastating spiral that ensued and how she clawed her way back to daylight.
Townhomes and McMansions are so 20 years ago.
Seems everywhere we turn, there’s an apartment complex just waiting to be built.
From Narberth to Ardmore to Berwyn and beyond, developers are teeing up hefty rental projects. 2,000 new units are in the pipeline in Lower Merion alone.
So many, in fact, they’re beginning to blur: mid-rise buildings with flat-roofs, mixed-material facades, pristine kitchens and baths and smallish living quarters. What you lose in personal square footage, you gain in amenities and walk-to-town/train/trail convenience.
Or so the pitch goes.
The immigration crisis – complicated and contentious – has reached our Main Line borders.
Devereux wants to turn its original Devon campus into a shelter for unaccompanied refugee children.
And neighbors want none of it.
To the Tredyffrin kids who ride his school bus each day, he’s their polite and punctual bus driver. Notable, perhaps, for his Hungarian accent and nothing more.
Ah, but looks can deceive.
Beneath his spotless polo shirt and chipper demeanor, Andras Szekely is, in fact, struggling to survive. He leads a life of carefully hidden homelessness, made bearable only by his art, his far-off family, and his hope for a better tomorrow.
Until now, Andras has kept his living situation secret.
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