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Greys Ferry. In 1985-86, I lived in this neighborhood for almost a year, in a much worse stretch. Sharing a house with a roommate, we paid all of $50 a month. You read that right, 50 bucks a month. It was more shell than house. You could see the first floor through gaps on the second floor. In 1992, Grays Ferry made the news as the source for Uncle Eddy's boys. They had brought him their soiled underwear, squatted over a glass table so he could watch their digestion from below. In my novel, Love Like Hate, two characters live in Greys Ferry.

This neighborhood was traditionally Irish, but now it's about half black.





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