RON TARVER / Staff Photographer
Albert Lee points out the attractions at the Independence Visitor Center to the Mapes family, visiting from Vermont. Lee gets much of his city information by pedaling around on his bike.
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Daniel Rubin: Need solid city info? Ask 'Mr. Philadelphia'
Who do you picture when you hear Mr. Philadelphia? A champion bodybuilder? Some long-dead benefactor? That celluloid side of beef who trained on the Art Museum steps?
How about a 29-year-old, spike-haired, baby-faced homeboy from Chinatown who pedals around town on a secondhand bike to collect fresh facts about the city he loves?
Meet Albert Lee.
To grandmas from Georgia and day-trippers from Dresher, Lee is the "Ask Mr. Philadelphia" guy who answers all e-mails sent to the Independence Visitor Center's Web site.
And, if you drop by the block-long center at Sixth and Market, it's likely he'll find you before you find him. He's the ball of fire in the bright red sports coat, the one pulling maps from the back of his pocket.
"I figure everyone who comes here has something he or she wants to ask," he says. So he pushes the question.
"How can I help you?" he hollers at a young couple approaching.
"We're pretty keen on a walking tour," the man responds. Lee is delighted. Brits!
"I always wanted a British accent," he begins, launching into a fearless, mile-a-minute rap - all in an Oxbridge inflection - about how he wished his parents had gone from Hong Kong to England instead of Philadelphia, and how he used to parrot Are You Being Served? episodes on the telly.
The Brits, Jamie Nguyen, 20, and his sister Jodie, 18, listen saucer-eyed as Lee describes the array of available tours, citing the attributes of each without pushing one over the other.
As the siblings pony up for tickets, Lee returns to his favorite subject, which is getting tourists to see the Philadelphia beyond the busted bell and signature sandwich.
Not that he can't be helpful to someone hankering for Pat's or Geno's.
That's the request of two cousins from Toronto who step up next. It's 10 a.m. on a Thursday. They are hungry. They have their own car.
"The most important thing," Lee says, fishing out a map, "is that you can parallel park, which is a skill learned through a series of bumps."
(Here it should be noted that Albert Lee has never owned a car. But that does not stop him from describing how to squeeze into a pocket-size South Philly parking space.)
He informs the cheesesteak seekers - Chris and John Spartalis - of Geno's no-credit-card policy, advises that once there they split up, since Geno's has a separate window for drinks, and drills them in the local way to place an order.
"American wit, cut it," he barks. They repeat.
"Most helpful," Chris Spartalis pronounces on his way out.
Credit Lee's success to Schwinn. He pedals a red Paramount roadster around Center City, confirming newspaper listings and news releases so he can tell visitors, say, how to get to the Camden waterfront, how to find the cheapest parking in Center City, where the closest Bank of America ATM is.
It's familiar territory. Lee spent his first 18 years within a few blocks, growing up on Clifton Street, walking to Holy Redeemer, then Roman Catholic High School. He commuted to La Salle University, then moved into an apartment with his older brother, Sidney. They're in South Philadelphia now, and Lee tries to take a different route every day.
"If someone says, 'How do you know when the Waterfront Connection runs?' I can tell them because I just rode it.
"Let's say the ferry doesn't run. I can tell them how to get to the aquarium because I took PATCO one day and hopped onto the River Line so I'd know. I even had my friend drive me from Penn's Landing to the Schuylkill so I could measure the distance. It's 2.8 miles."
He's exhausting. And he hasn't even started peppering me with some of his favorite e-mail exchanges, which he does over the next several days.
("He must be great at his job," writes Judith Hartshorn, of Concord, N.H., after Lee sent her pages of suggestions, with menus, for where to take her 7-year-old for a distinctive dinner. "He comes across as very personable, knowledgeable and someone who cares that I, the tourist, have a great time in his city.")
After a few hours of watching Mr. Philadelphia in action, I tell him I have to go. I must look tired. Like a crack concierge, Lee senses my every need, such as for a pithy End Quote.
"I'm a dynamo," he says, and grabs the next person in line.
Contact Daniel Rubin at 215-854-5917 or drubin@phillynews.com
