The story behind the 'El': Century-old elevated tracks, SEPTA's rebrand, and the letter 'L'

PHILADELPHIA - If you recently moved to Philadelphia, asking for transit directions can quickly turn into a local vocabulary lesson.

A longtime resident might message you to "take the El to Fishtown," but when you pull up a digital trip planner or glance at modern station signage, you will only see a bright blue square stamped with a bold letter "L."

For newcomers and out-of-town transplants, like me, the disconnect between what people say and what signs read can be perplexing. But in Philadelphia, that single letter carries more than a century of neighborhood history.

The 'El' officially becomes the 'L'

For decades, SEPTA officially referred to the route as the Market-Frankford Line, or the MFL. That changed when the transit authority launched its comprehensive SEPTA Metro Wayfinding Project, an initiative designed to streamline and modernize transit navigation across the region.

As part of the multi-million-dollar signage overhaul—which began rolling out at major hubs like Drexel Station at 30th Street—SEPTA replaced text-heavy legacy signs with streamlined, single-letter identifiers. The Broad Street Line became the "B," city trolleys were grouped under the "T," and the Market-Frankford Line officially became the "L," marked by blue route markers.

SEPTA openly embraced the city's colloquial habits when introducing the change to riders. In public rollout materials, the agency offered a cheeky nod to local slang: "Most people call it the 'el' already; now the signs will match. That will make giving directions a whole lot easier — even if we forgot the 'e'."

Whether longtime commuters agree the single-letter swap actually cleared up any confusion, however, remains up for debate.

More than a century of elevated rails

Long before transit planners assigned it a letter, Philadelphians called the line "the El" for a straightforward reason: much of it is literally elevated high above city streets.

At the turn of the 20th century, Philadelphia's public transportation consisted primarily of horsecars and cable cars. But as the city modernized, the privately formed Philadelphia Rapid Transit Company (PRT) gained a monopoly over local transit and contracted with the city in 1903 to build an electrified rail system. The city approved the project with one major condition: tracks east of the Schuylkill River had to be routed underground, while tracks heading into West Philadelphia would be elevated.

The city's first subway-elevated rail line officially began service in March 1907. It originally carried passengers from the 69th Street Terminal in Upper Darby across elevated tracks soaring over West Market Street before descending underground through Center City.

On Nov. 5, 1922, the line expanded northeast with the opening of the Frankford Elevated. The 5.25-mile extension carried trains high above Front Street and Kensington Avenue, terminating at Bridge and Pratt streets, known today as the Frankford Transportation Center.

Because the train traveled overhead on massive steel trestles across West Philadelphia and the Riverwards, generations of riders adopted "the El" as a descriptive noun rather than a letter, cementing it into the city's everyday dialect.

The newcomer confusion

That linguistic history is often lost on transplants, especially those relocating from New York City.

In New York, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority uses letters like the L train as arbitrary alphabetical labels. Newcomers frequently assume Philadelphia’s transit authority did the same, unaware that the local "L" is an intentional phonetic homophone honoring the physical steel structures above.

A neighborhood tribute at The El Bar 

The linguistic divide is perhaps most obvious at one of the city's best-known dive bars.

Located at Front and Master streets on the border of Fishtown and South Kensington, The El Bar sits directly underneath the Frankford Elevated's towering steel tracks. The cash-only staple earned its name as a direct tribute to the transit line above. Every few minutes, patrons inside and out on the back patio feel the room vibrate as roaring train cars rumble along the overhead tracks.

Yet for plenty of transplants having a drink for the first time, the tribute completely flies over their heads. Unfamiliar with the railway's nickname, many assume the venue is using the Spanish definite article. And no, in this context it is not Spanish for "the bar" — although that is a direct translation — as the very train that gave the watering hole its name screeches along the steel trestles right above the roof.

If you have an interesting local story, a correction, or your own take on Philly transit history, feel free to email tyler.thrasher@fox.com. I would love to hear what you have to say.

Philadelphia