Chefs' go-to spot for good old gear

The first reports on the four-alarm fire that gutted the top floor of the old factory in North Philadelphia one night in early April were puzzling.

One called it an "abandoned warehouse." Another speculated it might house a "commercial refrigeration business" on the ground floor.

From the outside the clues - especially in the dark - weren't much help: Across its brow facing Fifth Street, a vintage sign read, "Planet Jr., Farm and Garden Implements." On its the north face, near the train tracks, it said, "Flexible Flyer Coasters."

It was, in fact, a little bit of all of that. But if you had asked almost any local baker or pizza-maker, any deli-man or bistro chef (or set designer or found-art artist, for that matter), they could have told you at once: This was Sander Supply, the hidden treasure house of used Hobart mixers, Vulcan ovens, three-unit kitchen sinks, vintage milkshake makers, dough hooks hanging, pizza pans stacked in leaning towers, three funky, gritty, mesmerizing acres of the stuff, piled six floors deep beside the Amtrak tracks where Fifth meets Glenwood.

The soda fountain at Famous 4th Street Deli came from here. (It's just for looks; doesn't actually work.) Peter Gilmore got his first chairs here for Gilmore's in West Chester. Sarcone's, the South Philly bakery, calls if it needs a long-handled, wooden peel to shovel the loaves into its deep brick oven; no one else locally comes to mind anymore.

One day last week, Bob McFetridge, who once owned Cottman First England Pizza, dropped in to pick up oven-charred 10-inch pizza pans: "There's a plethora of gold here," he said. "If this equipment could talk. . . ."

Soon after he left, miraculously, it did, albeit through the mouthpiece of Lew Goettner Jr., Sander's owner, whose own German-immigrant family ran corner bakeries, lastly one in Ambler.

He would explain, in due course, the wooden sled mounted on the wall of his office, above the cluttered desk where a long-haired gray cat lounged.

But perhaps it would make sense, he said, to start in the basement, work our way up.

He grabbed a six-volt hand lantern. The electricity has been off since the fire April 6.

The investigation of its cause was "inconclusive," not unlike the murky identity of the place - windows broken and edged with soot - in those first TV news reports.