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A Fourth to remember

From cheese sculpture to hot performers, scenes from the city's most patriotic day.

Sunoco Sweet Sounds of Liberty Fireworks infront of the Philadelphia Museum of Art on the "Gold Peak Iced Tea Stage". The Zambelli Fireworks Internationale were set to the theme The Melting Pot, USA. ( John Costello / Inquirer )
Sunoco Sweet Sounds of Liberty Fireworks infront of the Philadelphia Museum of Art on the "Gold Peak Iced Tea Stage". The Zambelli Fireworks Internationale were set to the theme The Melting Pot, USA. ( John Costello / Inquirer )Read more

It was the day the city paused to celebrate the insubordinate birth of our bold, idiosyncratic and culturally scrambled nation. A day for the fervently patriotic and everyone else, too, to hear lofty speeches and stuff themselves with barbecue and watch $50,000 in incendiary devices explode in nature's giant IMAX in the sky.

That much Yun Frowine understood as she set out to give her older sister a tour of Philadelphia yesterday.

Frowine, 42, who moved from Shanghai to Philadelphia eight years ago to work in finance, had no trouble explaining Philadelphia's importance in American history and the way we party on the Fourth.

She could handle the story of how the Liberty Bell cracked and why George Washington's slave quarters are an open wound, and if her 52-year-old sister, Ping Liu, had any questions about freedom of speech, she had only to walk past the Mumia protesters handing out literature at the Visitor Center.

But when they came to the corner of Fifth and Chestnut, Frowine was stumped.

For there, kitty-corner from the stately Independence Hall, was a stretch of regal red carpet leading to a sculpture of the signers of the Declaration of Independence - carved from a four-foot-high and -wide, solid, one-ton block of mild, orange Wisconsin cheddar cheese.

"I'm trying to explain," Frowine said, and then attempted to translate into Mandarin the cultural and culinary significance of cheese, cheesesteaks, "wit'," and Cheez-It crackers, which sponsored the stunt.

After several attempts, Frowine sighed. "She doesn't understand."

Well, neither did a lot of natives. But that didn't stop them from being impressed.

"That's awesome!" said Tommy Kananen, a 12-year-old from Wilmington, congratulating the sculptor, Troy Landwehr, who stood on the corner, watching protectively over his work.

"Thanks," Landwehr said. He has a long and interesting story about the genesis of the cheese sculpture, inspired by John Trumbull's famous painting and executed in a walk-in refrigerator over the course of two weeks. But in assessing the course of yesterday's events, there's just not enough time for the full retelling.

Not if there's going to be room to acknowledge Mayor Nutter's frank address at the morning ceremony, before a crowd of several hundred citizens who showed up in defiance of threatening clouds and infelictious drizzle.

"Today," Nutter said, "there is a profound gap between our American dream of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, and the reality of everyday life for many Americans." Then he said he hoped for safer urban neighborhoods, honest government, environmental sustainability, less poverty and, in the most politically bold fillip, "reducing the flow of illegal guns to the streets."

Earlier that morning, the mayor attended a bagel buffet breakfast for honor students.

Since his wife, Lisa, wore a white sundress with no pockets, Nutter, considerately, carried her business cards for her all day. She confessed that she couldn't remember what they did last July Fourth, saying, "It feels like it was a long time ago."

For the Nutters, the event was only the first on the day's two-page-long schedule, but for Markia Brown, who got to shake their hands, it was major. Brown, 18, just graduated from Parkway West High School and is headed to Ursinus College in the fall to study biochemistry. She said she was honored to be part of the ceremony.

"It's pretty cool," said Brown. "But I'm kind of nervous."

At Independence Hall, a few dozen visitors took advantage of the ceremonial diversion to avoid the usually long lines for the tour.

"This is probably the quietest I've ever seen it," said Park Ranger Adam Duncan.

Near the front of the line stood Army Capt. Micah Bright, newly posted to Fort Meade, Va., as a recruiter, who got his wife, Helen, and their two children - Bohdin, 3, and Nyla, 11 months - up early for the dose of history.

Like many visitors, Bright said, his love of country overrides his "mixed feelings" about the course the nation has taken recently.

"I was recalled to active duty last November," Bright said, adding that what might have been bad news turned into an unexpected blessing. He'd been working for United Airlines, and with the company's recent layoffs, would have lost his job.

Meanwhile, in the third row at the kickoff ceremony, Beth Goldman basked in the ritual. "I've been coming here every year since the '80s," said Goldman, who is "over 65" and works as a docent at the nearby National Museum of American Jewish History. As part of the observation, she dug out of the closet the red-white-and-blue pants suit that she bought at Ross, slipped on the red-white-and-blue bangle bracelets she picked up at a dollar store, and finished the look off with a red beaded necklace.

She'd taken her seat about an hour before Patti LaBelle's Boom Boom Choir began belting out "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands."

"I love being here," she said. "It gives me a good feeling."

Colleen Beers of Blackwood and a group of women, friends and family were too busy to sit. While the men in their lives played golf, Beers said, she had secretly bought tickets for her crew to ride the Ducks. Afterward, they were headed back home for a picnic.

"Southern fried chicken, savory burgers with mushrooms, scallions, sour cream - real moist - corn on the cob. ..."

By midday, the sun had made a brief, scalding appearance. Two men collapsed. One was a member of the Sons of the Revolution color guard, who buckled to the ground from the heat and under the weight of his 60-pound load of flag, wooden flagpole and brass hardware. The other was Army Pvt. Khalil Timazee, who had been standing at attention when he told his commanding officer he felt dizzy.

"The young guys lock their knees. And on these hot details, they try to stand like a stone," said Sgt. Robert Walls. "They need to bend their knees a little to let the blood flow. He'll be fine."

Out on the lawn, four rowers from Argentina handed a camera to a passerby and posed for a group photo. Esteban Ibanez, Owen MacDonald, David Flier and Leandro Lopez said they were spending the day wandering around the city before heading to the Crescent Boat Club for a party and later to the Art Museum for the John Legend concert and fireworks.

The four friends, all college students, had spent the previous few days in New York and were in Philadelphia both for yesterday's hoopla and to compete in a regatta today. Compared with Manhattan, they said, this city rocks.

"Philadelphia," said Ibanez, "is really quite lovely."

Although he might not have appeared to be a civic booster, Tom Byrd said he feels the same - about his city and his country.

Byrd, who has been homeless off and on for a year, took up a post on the sidewalk, leaning against a bus shelter across from the Kmart on Market Street. Donations in his paper cup added up to $3 at 2:30 p.m. A former cook, construction worker, carpet layer and convicted thief, Byrd, 41, doesn't blame America for his plight.

"I'm not proud of a lot of things this country does," he said. "But it's still a place where you can make your dreams come true."