Verdant extensions of land that make suburban life so appealing don't exist in the urban core, yet the desires are the same: to soak up sunshine and fresh air, throw a burger on the grill, plant tomatoes, even swim and swat a tennis ball.
Thus, Philadelphia rowhouses sprout romantic aeries and schools put up playgrounds. High-rises boast pools and party rooms and canopied decks for mah-jongg. Hospital roofs have heliports.
At Friends Select School, 17th and the Parkway, students head for the roof for tennis and field hockey.
In summer, there's a beach scene atop Hall-Mercer Child and Parent Center, Eighth and Locust Streets, where toddlers in Beverly Levitsky's camp scamper from wading pool to sandbox.
And at the Franklin Institute, postcard views from a fifth-floor deck have been scouted by network reps on the lookout for backdrops for the Republican National Convention.
"On a sunny day, you just want to bring your beach chair up here," said Melanie Galletta, the museum's communications coordinator.
Magee Rehabilitation has perhaps outdone them all. To help therapists prepare patients for the challenges ahead, the hospital at 16th and Race Streets created a streetscape on its roof - complete with potholes, uneven curbs, an ATM, and a mock front porch.
Although Philadelphia is not as big a "roof town" as New York, said George Thomas, University of Pennsylvania architectural historian, interesting examples of vertical expansion abound.
The Bellevue on Broad Street, now the Park Hyatt at the Bellevue, once had an ice rink on its roof. At the nearby Union League, monied members could watch parades from an observation platform atop the club.
John Wanamaker, the department store innovator of the late 19th century, built an athletic complex on his store at 13th and Market, with tennis and basketball courts, a running track, and a playground.
