America, Victorious

One late night during the 2008 Olympics in Beijing, as the swimmer Michael Phelps smashed yet another world record, I walked through Philadelphia thinking over its history and was struck by how well it represents what America stands for.

Philadelphia is the birthplace of the American Democracy. The Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were both written there. The city’s most famous landmark – The Liberty Bell – sits in the aptly named Independence Hall and one of the museums is named after Ben Franklin, one of the most popular founding fathers.

The city also served as the first capital of the country. It has also been home to some of the most progressive minority groups. The pacifist Quakers – also called The Friends – are longstanding residents whose schools and non-profit organizations are very much a part of the fabric of Philadelphia. For a greater part of the 20th century the Philadelphia was considered the Jewish capital of America – the country’s only Reconstructionist Rabbinical school is in the suburbs. Recently, there has been an arts renaissance among Philadelphia’s African-Americans, with famous actors, musicians and writers emerging from the city. There is even a prominent Freemason Temple; the oldest in the country which is open to the public.

As I was walking I came upon the famous Art Museum. I looked up at its dozens of steps – made famous in the film “Rocky” – and decided to get to the Schuylkill River not by climbing them, but by walking around. I went and stood at the waterside pagoda behind the museum for a while, took a few pictures of Boathouse Row, and then came back up Kelly Drive, which curves along the hips of the museum.

The streets were empty. The fountains had been shut off long ago. Most of the lights in the vast apartment building to my left were off. The only noise was the slight rustle of leaves rubbing against the wind. I was walking along a large wall covered by bushes and heavy trees.

Suddenly from within the darkness two bright orange eyes locked themselves upon me. The eyes belonged to a demon, then became those of an animal, and finally revealed themselves to belong to a statue of the Charioteer of Delphi, given to Philadelphia by the government of Greece in 1976.

The glowing eyes had startled me because the statue stands in such a poorly lit area, and under so many trees, that at night the copper and onyx body is not immediately visible. Once I became accustomed to the dark, however, I could see the tall and majestic form of the Charioteer, one of the most important sculptures of the classical period of ancient Greece. The statue depicts a young Charioteer after one of his victories in the moment he turns to face the crowd. I didn’t bother to go near it because there was no walkway leading up to it.

As I went forward I saw that immediately beyond the Charioteer was another statue, this one well lit and well presented and easily accessible to pedestrians. In fact, the ground around the statue was stamped and worn, representing its popularity. This statue belonged to another athlete (or rather, the fictional representation of an athlete); specifically, Rocky Balboa, the Philadelphia boxer popularized by the actor Sylvester Stallone.

What a world of difference there was between the two victorious athletes. Rocky is wearing nothing but boots and shorts, is a collection of muscles and sinew, and stands arms extended over his ahead, in a stance that represents dominance. The Charioteer, also a winner, is fully clothed, calm and collected. He faces the crowd with humility, in total control of his emotions. I remembered from tenth grade history that the ability to control one’s emotions, especially during the most challenging of moments, defined the classical Greek era. Rocky was power and the Charioteer was restraint.

Standing there, looking at Rocky, standing in a well lit spot, popular and praised, and comparing him to the Charioteer, standing in the dark, forlorn and forgotten, I realized that Philadelphia was indeed the place where America was most perfectly articulated.

I took out a camera and took a couple of pictures using only the available light.