Philadelphia, home of the friendly

Yo, Philly, please don't be offended, but I have something to tell you about yourselves that may be difficult to hear:

You're nice.

That's right. Take it from this newcomer, who moved here from Seattle a month ago. Behind that South Philly swagger, that Haverford huffiness, that Kensington cockiness, you are a bunch of sweethearts - perhaps the most friendly, outgoing tribe I've encountered in travels that have taken me across all 50 states.

It sure didn't seem that way when my wife and I started scoping out the place this past summer. After 30 years of living in our beloved Seattle, where I was editor of the Seattle Times, we had just decided I would accept an offer to become dean of the School of Media and Communication at Temple.

At the end of a house-hunting trip in August, we made our way from Jenkintown through North Philadelphia on our way to the airport. As we pulled up to a red light at North Broad and Duncannon, we were shaken to the core by what was transpiring about 10 feet in front of us: In stark daylight and just off the intersection, two 20-something men were relentlessly beating another man, slamming his skull against the pavement, kicking him in the face and genitals, punching his kidneys. A few feet away, a young woman was cheering them on.

Welcome to the City of Brotherly Love.

We flew back to the peaceful Pacific Northwest pretty shaken. And when we returned last month to move here, we were braced for the worst. We'd not only heard the lore - Eagles fans pelting Santa with ice balls, etc. - we'd seen the legendary Philly meanness up close.

But from Day One of our new residency in the city, we noticed something very different here. Seattle, rooted in the reserved cultures of Scandinavia and Asia, was certainly polite. But with that historical foundation and the addition of thousands of too-cool techie/hipsters, it was not particularly warm. In fact, newcomers there refer to the chilly reception they often receive as the "Seattle Freeze."

By contrast, Philly, with its population potpourri, produces plenty of heat, to be sure, but also a surprising bounty of warmth.

In Seattle, when you get into an elevator with someone else, there is usually no greeting, no eye contact, and your fellow passenger will inch as far away from you as she can. Here, you'll get a smile, a "How you doin' today?" and you will learn the names and ages of her kids between the first and seventh floors.

There, if you're lost downtown, you'll have to seek out help. Here, a stranger is likely to approach you to ask if you need it. And sometimes - as my wife experienced a couple weeks ago - a 70-something woman will not only tell you where to find Macy's, she'll walk the eight blocks to the store with you, chat you up, and then point you to the cosmetics counter you're seeking.

Here, as I looked futilely for a place to tie up my golden retriever outside a five-generation bagel shop I was itching to try last Sunday morning, one of the bakers called out from behind the counter, "Don't worry about it; I'll come out there and take your order and bring it to you." In Seattle, I'd have gone hungry.

There, cynicism is a badge of honor. Here, you folks favor healthy skepticism. The result is an openness, a willingness to express, sleeves worn with emotion.

Of course, those emotions aren't always positive. The goodwill I'm hailing disappears when you all get behind the wheel, for instance, and the open violence in certain neighborhoods is undeniable and appalling.

But compared with much of the country, the people here are a congenial lot.

The "Brotherly Love" motto became a perverse national punch line over the years. It's high time that we, my fellow Philadelphians, take it back and proclaim it proudly.

How YOU doin' today?