Fishtown pizza truck, cruising the neighborhood for 50 years, rings a bell to draw customers

North of Northern Liberties, the intermittent clanging of a tinny firehouse bell is a sound familiar to many. But it doesn't signal a blaze requiring immediate attention. There, the ring means one thing: The pizza truck is coming your way.

A roving staple of the River Wards for more than 50 years, this boxy, boisterous slice-dispensing truck is an institution in this part of town, an outlier untouched by the pull of the new-wave mobile-food culture. It's not wrapped in loud graphics; it doesn't work college-campus or music-festival circuits. Instead, it operates more like Mister Softee, its bell ringing as it tools around Fishtown's knitted, narrow blocks, stopping at corners to dispense water ice, milk shakes, and carnival-style pizza baked onboard.

You always hear the truck coming, but you can often see it, too, thanks to the pulsating neon lights that encircle the top like a kaleidoscopic crown. It's an attention-grabbing feature nearly as colorful as the pizza truck's proprietor, pilot, and primary marketer, Dieter Neumann.

Neumann, 48, began operating the pizza truck in the early '90s, but it has always been in his family. The tradition began in the '60s with Lou Monticello, Neumann's uncle. Dinging that distinctive bell to announce his presence, he'd feed any Fishtowner quick enough to catch him - slices, sodas, and funnel cakes, plus only-in-Philly curiosities like pizza pretzels and "radio balls," gelati made with hand-dipped ice cream instead of soft-serve.

When Monticello moved to Myrtle Beach to open a stationary pizza shop, he sold the truck to a neighbor, but the new owner "just didn't have the knack." The chance to buy the business arose, and Neumann, who was working as a warehouse supervisor in North Philadelphia, figured he'd give it a try.

He had the knack. Neumann's a natural talker who remembers names and faces, and his personality translated perfectly to the pizza-truck model. A little affability goes a long way in this type of hustle, where ground covered dictates money made. "We're not sitting there, you coming to us," he says. "We're coming to you."

He eventually swapped Uncle Lou's ride for his current rig, a converted bread truck equipped with a triple-decker oven and a freezer case. With slices going for just $1.50 a pop, vending is not Neumann's primary source of income. The truck runs only at night, and only on certain nights. During the day, Neumann operates two companies out of Bridesburg - one specializing in moving boxes and packaging supplies, the other providing industrial wiping materials.

Those businesses are his bread-and-butter. The pizza truck? "It's in my blood," says Neumann, who feels it keeps him abreast of what's going on. He's still plugged in to the network of families who knew him as a kid. "It's entertaining to get out there and see what's going on," says Neumann. "When I write my book, I'll have plenty of material."

Neumann is sharklike, nearly always on the move, but there are times when he parks up. Recently, he sold at a Soul Cruisers concert at Penn Treaty Park. Before that, he fed attendees of a fund-raiser for St. Laurentius Parish at Memphis and Berks, giving his childhood friend Joe Wickham a chance to pick up pies for contractors working on his house.

The truck has "been around here for so long, so that helps," says Wickham, who was the best man at Neumann's wedding, and vice versa. "Of course, he's sociable. Really too much."

When Helen Mullen, a well-known Fishtown matriarch, lost her husband last summer, Neumann pulled the truck up to her house unprompted to provide refreshments to well-wishers. "Dieter came up and took care of everybody," she says. Though appreciative, she provided some crucial feedback. "I think he should serve some alcohol, you know? With that pizza, you'd like a little glass of wine."

Lifelong Fishtown residents like these make up about 70 percent of the pizza truck's business. The other 30 percent, Neumann says, are new people - not all of whom grasp what the truck is all about. ("When I first lived in Fishtown," writes one Yelp reviewer, "it took me a while to figure out the origins of that bell that rang all the time.")

With the help of Neumann's tech-savvy college-age son, Dieter III, he has brought the truck at least halfway into modernity. He announces his schedule via Facebook, and customers in the comments section attempt to lure him to their corners in real time ("Ring the bell loud near Wilt and Gaul please").

One thing he hasn't changed is his core product. Though he has added a couple of new items to the menu over the years - his Yoo-hoo shake is a particular point of pride - the pizza, made with prefab dough shells, is the opposite of fancy. "We're a neighborhood delivery pizza business," says Neumann. "We're not gourmet. You're not going to get organic vegetables. That's not what we're about."

Neumann's core customers, and Fishtown in general, seem to appreciate his consistency. "It's a comforting thing to see it coming down the block," says A.J. Thomson, a lawyer who grew up in the area and still lives there. "Is it Pizzeria Beddia? No. But, guess what - when I'm coming home from work and he goes by, I know I'm getting four slices and two sodas."