Bruce's Philadelphia story

BRUCE BUSCHEL has owned the big black leather lace-up boots that he wore on his walk down Broad Street for almost seven years. He wouldn't readily admit to the price; they're French and "expensive, for a guy" (he finally confessed to paying $150, mere chump change for a shoe fanatic). But the boots are phenomenal, he said, showing off the hardly worn soles. "They should last longer than I do."

They stood up to the 13-mile walk down Broad Street that the 60-year-old Buschel made almost two years ago on an unseasonably warm Tuesday in November.

What began as a story for Philadelphia magazine evolved into a book, "Walking Broad: Looking for the Heart of Brotherly Love," which landed in stores last week.

Having left Philadelphia 25 years ago, Buschel returned to walk the street on which he grew up. Although he includes personal history, his walk is not exclusively down memory lane. He weaves biographical anecdotes with the street's history, interspersed with interviews and stories about present-day Broad Street dwellers, "pontificating," as he describes it, about "Philadullphia" along the way.

"I did want it to be current, because it's not a book about nostalgia. It's not about being in the moment as opposed to the past or the future. There is no moment, there is no past, there is no future; they all happen all the time, simultaneously," Buschel said in a recent interview at the Daily News' office on Broad Street.

Buschel starts his walk in North Philly, where he grew up. At times irreverent and self-effacing, and always brutally honest, Buschel describes the sexual abuse he endured at Girard College, a boarding school for fatherless boys, and how he learned to pick up a hooker for 20 bucks on Broad Street.

Amidst his prose, Buschel sprinkles his interactions with the regular Philadelphians he met on his walk that November day, from a spiritual sock peddler to a tailor who wonders how different his life would have been if he'd gone to Girard College.

"I really wanted to avoid any bigwigs . . . I wanted Philadelphians; I wanted this to be about the people on the street," Buschel said. Though he did try to get an interview with one famous Philadelphian, actor Kevin Bacon. Buschel's many attempts were ultimately thwarted when he insulted Bacon's publicist and attorney by suggesting that they were incompetent.

Buschel's interactions with Philadelphians are similarly sometimes testy. He meets Joe Tolstoy, a bellman at the Park Hyatt who aspires to be a screenwriter, and Buschel, jaded from growing up in "Killadelphia," gives him this succinct advice: Get out.

"You gotta fly, Joe, fly," Buschel says to him. "Philly will squeeze the juice out of you and then stomp all over your seeds."

Tolstoy volleys back: Philly is changing.

And so it is, Buschel found.

He points to the events of 9/11 as the catalyst for the recent changes he observed in his hometown.

He writes: "The unintended consequence of being an insignificant city (or plum lucky) was the transformation of Philly into a sanctuary. The taint was suddenly the place to be, cuz. T'aint this target, t'aint that target, it's just the taint, the quaint taint, fortuitously floating under terrorist radar, conveniently located between two major bull's-eyes.

"Comparisons to New York that had plagued the city for so long were suddenly turned upside down. Next to the gored Goliath, Philly was sweet David.

"Filthydelphia morphed into Illadelphi aka Funkadelphia aka P-Delphia aka Chilladelphia. Yo, maybe Philly wasn't half as bad as Philadelphians said it was."

Buschel's mother, who died at Hahnemann University Hospital only a few weeks after 9/11 and never knew about the terrorist attack, predominates in his personal anecdotes. He wanted to write a whole book about his mother, who blamed his birth and the financial strain it caused for his father's early death (he died on Broad Street, on his way home from work), but Buschel settled for interspersing her story amidst Philadelphia's.

"I didn't put any demons to rest," Buschel said, but, "despite what I say about my mother, it's in a way to honor her, her memory. She's born and bred and raised and died a Philadelphian. So I tried to go beyond the personal. She's a Philadelphian, so I write about her. And I had more access to her life than I did to Kevin Bacon's."

Buschel also drops some poetry from Philadelphia poets among the pages of his book. He would have liked to include paintings as well.

Particularly funny are the conversations Buschel has with his brother, a 56-year-old vegetarian who lives in Santa Monica, Calif. Though Buschel said he doesn't talk with him regularly, the two shared numerous cell-phone conversations as Buschel walked the street on which he and his brother once sold drugs.

"He's from Philadelphia. He passed the litmus test. . . . have a brotherly relationship - it's the City of Brotherly Love. It seemed kind of natural" to include their talks, Buschel said.

Buschel admitted to having trouble organizing his trek down Broad - there is no plot and he could have written more about almost everything he put in his 200-page book - but his basic goal was to examine and observe Philadelphians in Philadelphia, and shed some "measly enlightenment" on his people in their natural habitat.

"No matter where I live and how far away I go, my essence is Philadelphian. There is a character to a Philadelphian, and I've found it, and I lived it, and I bring it with me," Buschel said. "After I meet and know people, and then I tell them where I'm from, they go, 'well, that explains it.' " *