Riding the trolley with SEPTA’s resident poet

His narration has gained a dedicated following among cross-Schuylkill commuters, and he has been championed in a Twitter account (@SeptaPoet) that is described simply as "a love letter to (and from) the trolley driver." It bears witness to his greatest hits.

WELL-VERSED: Driver Mike Fuller is becoming known for his whimsical announcements aboard West Philly trolleys.
Neal Santos

“Here, like a bat, we dive,” SEPTA driver Mike Fuller informs passengers as a Route 13 trolley noses into the dark tunnel at 40th Street, heading toward Center City. 

On another trip, at the same spot, he might announce: “Now, from this 40th Street portal, like a reverse trampoline, we drop down to 37th and Spruce — next stop.”

Fuller, 49, speaks in the slow-paced and even voice common to most trolley drivers, yet says things that are fantastically poetic, funny and sometimes deeply strange. 

His narration has gained a dedicated following among cross-Schuylkill commuters, and he has been championed in a Twitter account (@SeptaPoet) that is described simply as “a love letter to (and from) the trolley driver.” It bears witness to his greatest hits. 

Fuller’s greatest fascination is with the underground, where the trolley crawls through the winding tunnels.

“I remember my own experience in the tunnel, at first, was mystifying,” he says while sitting in the break room at SEPTA’s Elmwood Depot. “It’s kind of like a magical space.”

The tunnel is both complex and beautiful, says Fuller, and he is mindful of the trolley’s moving position within the strata of urban infrastructure. One train crosses above another; all pass beneath streets crowded with people and cars.

“It’s just narrating what is there, but what is there is often unsaid,” he explains.  “I realized that there was much more than meets the darkened eye.”

On board the trolley, Fuller elucidates what is invisible to the average passenger, including the “dark, scary balcony that overlooks the Market-Frankford line” as the trolley passes between 33rd and 30th streets. That, he says, is “pretty cool.” 

Or, if you prefer, like passing “over a space that is deep.” Pause. “Like a philosophy.”

It is “a space as dark as a stack of black cats,” he says.

Fuller is a trim guy with a closely cropped beard and black-rimmed glasses. But he remains an enigma to riders, who see him only briefly (if at all) as they board — or somewhat longer if they don’t have a token and struggle to assemble a cash payment. On the small fiberglass seats, sometimes in close contact with a neighbor, riders mainly experience Fuller as a voice over the intercom. 

When the trolley curves east, Fuller says, just before 33rd and Market, the vehicle emits a noise that sounds “like a whale song.”

Then, just after 30th Street, the trolley descends to pass under the river and, “like a pair of jeans, we ride a little lower.”

Arriving in Center City, you approach “the oldest, smallest and, some people say, cutest stop in the tunnel at 19th Street — coming right up.”

Heading back west on the route 13, the trolley “crawl[s] through a space under the route 10 trolley track, to 36th and Sansom.”

Fuller says that he speaks in different “genres” depending on the vehicle’s location. In the tunnel, he is more “narrative,” while above ground he is more sparse and it is “more of a dialogue. It’s more interpretive.” Conducting the trolley down Woodland, Chester or Baltimore avenues, he reacts to conditions on the street and even the time of day.

At night on the 34 or 13, he often says “here on 43rd Street, we have Clark Park — dark.” One night, in an experiment, he said, “Clark Park” and left it at that. A passenger yelled out “Dark!” That made him happy. 

Fuller has been driving trolleys for two-and-a-half years, and his path to SEPTA was something like the tunnels that intrigue him: complex and a lot more interesting than you might expect. He grew up in upstate New York and lived in Havana for many years, working as a journalist for the Cuban news agency Prensa Latina. He then studied media and communications at Temple University, but left school for the job at SEPTA. And he had experience driving large vehicles, getting his Class 2 license from his days as a bus driver for a student-owned and operated transportation collective at SUNY Binghamton.

SEPTA was most of all “looking for a fit, for a kind of personality,” he says, because so much of the job is dealing with people. 

On three recent trolley rides across the city, a City Paper reporter watched as some passengers zoned out, one woman got angry (yelling “shut up and drive the train”) and many riders were very amused. One smiling, middle-aged woman told this reporter she thought Fuller was amazing, and then told him so on her way off the trolley.     

The trolley brings people together and — amid packed rush-hour cars and the looming possibility of a strike — Fuller tries to make that a pleasant thing.

“Whether you are from as far away as Eastwick, Darby, Yeadon or Angora, you meet in the tunnel,” he sometimes says. “It’s like the United Nations.”

The author of the @SeptaPoet Twitter says that Fuller gives riders a shared experience amid the anonymity of the big city; something like the rush of collective effervescence she gets from passengers shouting that a trolley neophyte should “step down!” to trigger the back door’s opening.

“I think the SEPTA poet has reminded me of what I love about the trolleys,” writes the author, who asked to remain anonymous. “They are distinctive and bizarre and old-fashioned and, specifically, a West Philly animal.” 

Trolleys are also notably cramped and slow, and can be like a roller coaster without any of the fun parts. 

“You’re in close quarters in a way that’s different than the bus … or the quick, multi-car sub-way,” she says. “Also, you are very alone-feeling in the tunnel. It’s one very slow-moving car in a very dark underground space. I think the poet makes the endless, turn-filled schlep between 33rd and 36th feel way more fun and less creepy and annoying. I start thinking unprecedented thoughts.” 

Fuller’s announcements also promote efficiency and rider well-being. 

“If my stop is getting closer,” he’ll say to his passengers, “I’m thinking, am I near a door?”

If the trolley is packed, and he needs to encourage people to move toward the back, he prefaces his request with this: “It’s nice to have the trolley so complete, like a flower that’s just been watered.” 

Or if people are sleepy at night, he makes sure they don’t miss their stops.

“A trolley nap is a nice thing, but we hope no one misses their stop on this ride, like a sleeping shrimp washed away by a tide.” Or, “We ignore the cheerleaders of sleep on the sidelines of our mind and focus on 65th Street — next stop.”

Behind the whimsical verse is the mundane goal of communicating important information to passengers, says Fuller. SEPTA has four corporate principles: courtesy, convenience, cleanliness and communication. Fuller studied the latter at Temple, so he “figured that would be the most important corporate principle” for him to practice.

“I try to be as accurate as I can when I call out the stops,” he says.

Correction: A Class 2 license is not required to drive a trolley but SEPTA says that having one would have made Fuller a good job candidate. A CDL, or commercial driver's license, is required to drive a bus, trolley, or train.