No time for chit-chat today so let’s get to it!
1. “Do you have the tim— Oh.”
I’m getting near the end of my initial research effort for my “Pittsburgh Remains to be Seen” mapping project which will be a Google Map that shows users where they can find and see remains or artifacts from buildings and structures that no longer stand or exist in Pittsburgh. I currently have 40 complete entries with GPS coordinate information showing the current and former locations, as well as photos of the artifacts in their original iteration. So that seems like a good starting point to get the map together.
One thing that won’t appear on the map because it isn’t currently viewable by the general public is this clock that used to be on a canopy on the south end of the Smithfield Street Bridge, designed to shelter commuters waiting for rail. The clock was added during the initial construction of the canopy in 1911 and taken down in 1967. Here it is in 1954, so you can see how it was in front of the bridge portal.
So where’s the clock today since it was taken down in 1967? Voila!
It is now a table at Masonic Village in Sewickley. The story is that when it was removed, it went into storage until the president of the P&LE, Henry Allyn, had it made into a coffee table for his home with a model train in the center. When he and his wife moved to the Masonic Village, it was donated after his death in December of 2006 where it has been ever since.
Love it. Want it. Gonna steal it. Bail me out.
(h/t @BorosNorth on Twitter)
2. Oh, Harriet
While researching the Smithfield Street information, I stumbled on this story (July 7, 1983 Pittsburgh Press) about how drivers would accidentally drive on the trolly side of the bridge, not realizing what they were doing until it was too late. This one from 1962 had me rolling:
Further research says her name was Mrs. Harriet Fischman who was determined to just keep on going until she somehow bounced her way to the other side. (Also, the original story says it was only three flat tires.)
Still, gotta admire her persistence as she clattered and bounced and rattled and bonked further than anyone had ever gone on the trolly side by auto before and was only stopped near the end of the bridge when the tracks widened and got her stuck, halting trolly traffic for nearly an hour.
OMG THERE IS A PICTURE:
That’s the face of a woman who has seen some things and just wants to get to Horne’s.
God bless Harriet Fischman, for she knew just how bonkers Pittsburgh roads and bridges are.
3. Well, yikes.
One last little Pittsburgh history thing please. I know. It’s a lot. I just found a lot of good stuff while researching for my upcoming papers. I had the idea to do my major paper for one of my classes on Roberto Clemente’s relationship with the local sports media and how/if that relationship in any way drove his desire to be philanthropic.
I’m sure you all are aware that for a time, whenever Clemente granted interviews to the local sportswriters, they would phonetically spell out his accent and broken English. In fact, this was his first interview as reported by the Pittsburgh Press in March of 1955:
So, yeah. That was how it was. But this next one was … hoo boy, because it wasn’t even a transcript of what he said; it was how Pittsburgh Press’s Les Biederman chose to report a slump Roberto was in on June 13, 1955:
Yikes. Also, what I wouldn’t give for one single Pittsburgh Pirate with more than four games under their belt to be hitting .287 right now, let alone .311.
Just one!
4. Oh my gourd!
Gourd puns! I has them! You will sit there and listen to them!
So a local man won a pumpkin-growing contest and I just want to say I love that growing giant vegetables is still a hobby because it’s so nostalgic and quaint. Like whittling. Or darning. Or cheese rolling.
Ah, ripping all of your face skin off before 10 a.m. The nostalgia of it all. Makes me want to microwave a full Giant Eagle apple pie and put it on my windowsill to cool like Mrs. Harriet Fischman probably used to do before attempting to drive up the Duquesne Incline tracks on her way to the market.
Tag yourself. I’m this dude who for one split second thought he could fly:
Right before the reality of gravity hit like a bitch. Anyway, this Harrison City man’s giant pumpKING was awarded the top prize of King Pumpkin at the Barnesville, Ohio Pumpkin Festival, coming in at a whopping 2,405 pounds. You’ve gourda be kidding me.
Wow. That’s a gourdgeous big boy.
Gunstrom, an engineer who said he spent about 30 hours per week growing the gourd …
Wait. I was of the impression that growing a giant vegetable was all about … waiting. Watching. Looking. Praying. Maybe a bit of shifting. Some watering. Fertilizing. What does one do to a pumpkin for 30 hours a week to get it to grow this big? That seems like a lot of time. That’s more than four hours a day. I’ll be falling into this research wormhole as soon as I publish this edition of the newsletter.
This pumpkin festival has been going on since 1964 when the first crowned King Pumpkin was a puny 72 pounds. There are owners of suburban four-bedroom McMansions all over the Pittsburgh region going, “Please. I have six 72-pound pumpkins decorating my front door entry right this second along with 65 cornstalks and 433 potted chrysanthemums.”
However, it was time well spent because the winner of King Pumpkin takes home TWO DOLLARS PER POUND. So this man made nearly $5,000. You can actually see this monster gourd here in Pittsburgh at the Monster Pumpkins Festival in the Strip District on October 15 and 16.
Should be a gourd time. (Ba-dum-TISS!)
5. You should have just sat there and ate your figgy treat
Here’s a fun one and by fun I mean mind-bendingly stupid:
And then when people were like, “Newt, you giant idiot named Newt, those are lyrics to a Nine Inch Nails song,” the next day Newt, who is named Newt after the figgy snack, tried to act like he knew that:
I can’t even follow this line of reasoning. Probably because when you double-down on stupid mistakes instead of admitting to your stupid mistake, all of the reasoning gets erased and you sound like even more of an idiot. Like how do you even get from “I will make you hurt” to … the Crips?!? That’s like seeing a tattoo of a knife and being all, “Wow. So you love murder and gangs and you’ve murdered a bunch of people, I see.” Or seeing a barbed wire armband tattoo and asking, “So, when exactly did you escape from prison, Prison Mike?”
Leave PA alone, Newt. We’ve got enough villains already.
6. And we’re done!
I’m out of space! So have a great week and be sure to come out to Jergel’s and see my new band Nine Inch Nails.
What?