Payton Place: Embattled Frankford is poised for a new generation of leadersh
Philadelphia Weekly
Up in Frankford-a blue-collar neighborhood of vacant factories and storefronts, some parts renewed by encroaching gentrification, other parts, those located on the wrong side of the El tracks, still drowning in crime, drugs and neglect-Tony Payton Jr. is known as the last man standing.
In the race for the open seat in the 179th District, Payton, unlike his three Democratic challengers, has survived petition challenges and political snubs from a machine fueled by whom you know and how much money you have.
And if he survives the latest challenge from a write-in candidate, Payton will become the district's next state representative simply because his name is the only one on the ballot.
Sitting in an IHOP on Roosevelt Boulevard one sunny Saturday morning, Payton is sharply dressed in a dark pinstriped suit, blue shirt, red striped tie and a big campaign button bearing his name.
He's tall and lanky, and looks all of his 25 years.
Over his breakfast of waffles with whipped cream, turkey sausage and a side of grits, he talks about the challenges and hopes of the 179th, an overwhelmingly Democratic district of largely white residents, with significant and growing African-American and Latino populations.
Going door to door, standing at bus stops and sitting in church pews, Payton says residents' biggest concern is finding jobs.
"And the ones they qualify for are so far away," says Payton, who works as a housing counselor. "They can't sustain their family."
He illustrates the plight of the working poor by telling the story of a single mother he met who travels five hours roundtrip to the suburbs for a job that pays minimum wage.
In the district, which runs across Roosevelt Boulevard from Germantown to Bustleton avenues, Payton says the next burning issue is crime.
Recently Frankford made headlines when a dispute between men led to early morning gunshots outside Primos Sports Bar, and left a 7-year-old shot in the face and his 10-year-old brother shot in the back.
The bullets also tore into the bar, hitting a patron and a bartender.
Last month, up the street from Payton's corner row house, in an area described as "family-oriented," three armed men broke into Andre Jenkins' apartment, duct-taped him to a chair and repeatedly stabbed him, asking, "Where's the money?" in front of his crying girlfriend and two small children. Police killed two of the assailants.
"The problem is out of control," Payton says of the city's rising gun violence. "I'm 25 years old, and I've been to too many funerals. The gun is a way of life now, and that shouldn't be."
After breakfast Payton meets up with Bill Gambrill, a gray-haired community activist neighbors affectionately call "the mayor of Frankford."
Gambrill takes Payton to the doors of residents who've historically voted in low-turnout primary elections. They start out on a stretch of newly developed houses with manicured lawns.
"I just like to see a young man doing something for himself," Gambrill says of Payton, "and he seems to be about the community."
Gambrill says politicians have neglected the area for too long. Newspaper stories dubbed the district's last state Rep. Bill Rieger, who held the seat for nearly 40 years, "the invisible man" for his low profile in Harrisburg, and questioned his disbursement of state funds.
With Rieger's retirement, the Democratic Party has thrown its support behind Emilio Vazquez, who was knocked off the ballot for failing to properly list his employer.
"I was backing Emilio from day one," says ward leader and state Sen. Christine Tartaglione, who Payton says, along with party chairman Bob Brady, doesn't return his phone calls. "I just feel Emilio Vazquez is the better candidate."
Vazquez, who works for the Parking Authority, also ran in 2004, and is endorsed by several unions, as well as the area's three strongest ward leaders. But he faces the daunting task of teaching voters how to write his name on the ballot.
"I'm feeling I'm the underdog," says Vazquez, "but it's a winnable district."
Both Vazquez and Payton have solid ideas for the district. But Vazquez thinks Payton is too young. Payton, meanwhile, thinks Vazquez is part of powerful machine that promises little in the way of change.
"When you elect ineffective leadership time and time again," says Payton, "the machine is broken."
Come January, if he gets the job, Payton says he'll start by pushing for handgun reform and cautioning legislators that "introducing legislation is not enough."
Currently, the proposed one-handgun-a-month bill is idling in committee, along with the proposal for Philadelphia to make its own gun laws.
"Let's call you out in the media," he says of the measures' opponents. "Gun violence is obviously a problem, and you're voting against it. Either you're antiprogress or you don't care about minorities. What else can we conclude from that?"
He also plans to create a task force to investigate the handgun trafficking.
"When it's as easy to buy a gun as it is to buy a soda," says Payton, "we got a problem."
Reducing the tide of illegal guns is a much needed step, but ultimately Payton knows legislation alone won't end crime. "It has to be solved in the community," says Payton. "People have to say, 'Enough is enough.'"
Payton also plans to somehow bring businesses and jobs back to the old industrial neighborhood and convert abandoned factories into something useful.
For him and his supporters, his youth is an idealistic call for progress and reform.
"You have to embrace change," says Payton. "This is happening to people who look like me, so maybe we need a young voice."
