I am posting photos that I took in 1963 during my brother Steve’s Holy Name Elementary School Graduation.  I remember taking these pictures. I was in 6th grade and I was super impressed with myself. After all, I got to “hang” with the big kids!  I thought you might enjoy this little respite and journey back to 1963. Hopefully, I haven’t posted these pictures before, but incase I did, chalk it up to old age!

Before you check out the photographs, I’d like you to read the story below. The signifigance is obvious since we are about to celebrate Memorial Day. However, to me there is even deeper meaning since it was sent to me to read by my 25 year old daughter, Abby. To know that my daughter is respectful and understanding of those who sacrificed so much for her freedom makes me a very proud Dad!

The author of the following story is unknown:

As I came out of the supermarket that sunny day, pushing my cart of groceries towards my car, I saw an old man with the hood of his car up and a lady sitting inside the car with the door open.   The old man was looking at the engine. I put my groceries away in my car, and continued to watch the old gentleman from about twenty five feet away.  

I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too, and took a few steps towards him.   I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something. The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand new Cadillac Escalade. He then turned back to the old man. I heard him yell at the old gentleman saying:   ‘You shouldn’t even be allowed to drive a car at your age.’ And then with a wave of his hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.  

I saw the old gentleman pull out his handkerchief, and mop his brow as he went back to his car and again looked at the engine.   He then went to his wife and spoke with her; he appeared to tell her it would be okay. I had seen enough, and I approached the old man. He saw me coming and stood straight, and as I got near him I said, ‘Looks like you’re having a  problem.’   He smiled sheepishly, and quietly nodded his head. I looked under the hood myself, and knew that whatever the problem was, it was beyond me. Looking around, I saw a gas station up the road, and I told the old man that I would be right back.

I drove to the station and went I inside. I saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them, and related the problem the old man had with his car. I offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him.   The old man had pushed the heavy car under the shade of a tree and appeared to be comforting his wife. When he saw us he straightened up and thanked me for my help.

As the mechanics diagnosed the problem (overheated engine), I spoke with the old gentleman.   When I shook hands with  him earlier, he had noticed my Marine Corps ring and had commented about it, telling me that he had been a Marine too. I nodded and asked the usual question, ‘What outfit did you serve with?’   He said that he served with the first Marine Division at Guadal Canal Pelieliu, and Okinawa.   He had hit three of the worst ones, and retired from the Corps after the war was over.

As we talked we heard the engine start and saw the mechanics lower the hood. They came over to us as the old man reached for his wallet, but was stopped by me. I told him I would just put the bill on my AAA card.   He still reached for the wallet and handed me a card that I assumed had his name and address on it, and I stuck it in my pocket. We all shook hands all around again, and I said my goodbyes to his wife.  

I then told the two mechanics that I would follow them back up to the station. Once at the station, I told them that they had interrupted their own jobs to come along with me and help the old man. I said I wanted to pay for the help, but they refused to charge me.   One of them pulled out a card from his pocket, looking exactly like the card the old man had given tome. Both of the men told me then that they were Marine Corps Reserves. Once again we shook hands all around and as I was leaving, one of them told me I should look at the card the old man had given to me. I said I would and drove off.  

For some reason I had gone about two blocks, when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time.  The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name was written: ‘Congressional Medal of Honor Society.’ I sat there motionless, looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage, and an honor to have been in his presence.  

Remember, as we approach another Memorial Day, OLD men like him gave you, and all of us, FREEDOM for America . Thanks to those who served and still serve, and to all of those who supported them, and who continue to support them.    Remember, Freedom isn’t Free. Thousands have paid the price, so that you can enjoy what you have today.

LET’S DO THIS: JUST 19 WORDS: GOD OUR FATHER, WALK THROUGH MY HOUSE AND TAKE AWAY ALL MY WORRIES; AND PLEASE WATCH OVER AND HEAL MY FAMILY; AND PLEASE PROTECT OUR FREEDOMS, AND WATCH OVER OUR TROOPS, WHO ARE DEFENDING THOSE FREEDOMS. AMEN  

HOLY NAME 8TH GRADE GRADUATION 1963

I believe that in America, it has become a rite of passage for young ladies and sometimes, young men, to be enrolled in dance classes. The Duquesne of my youth was no different. I remember attending dance recitals when my cousin Karla took lessons at “Pat’s Dance Studio” in Duquesne Place. They were held at the library, and there was always an air of excitment and a “Broadway” type feeling in the theatre on the night of the event. 

I dug through some issues of the Duquesne Times and discovered that two sisters owned a dance studio in Duquesne called The McWilliams Sister’s School of Dance. Claudia Repko Misage, once posted a comment about these  sisters, so I know they are familiar to some of you. Cassie and Ann McWilliams started their School of Dance in 1936, and their very first “Danceland Review” took place at the Duquesne Library in June, 1937.

For your enjoyment, I am posting two different articles from The Duquesne Times regarding the McWilliams sisters. The first was published in 1937, and announces the very first of their annual Danceland Reviews that featured their students. The second article outlines the progam and participants from their 1952 production of the Danceland Review, held 60 years ago. I am sure you will recognize many of the student’s names and for most of you who were participants, I’m sure a smile will lighten you face.  My apologies to any of the guys out there who had hoped their dance review days were long forgotten. However, with the popularity of programs such as Dancing With The Stars, there’s an entirely new found admiration for the dancer in all of us.

THE DUQUESNE TIMES – MAY 21, 1937

THE DUQUESNE TIMES – THURSDAY, MAY 29, 1952

I never saw any of the productions of Danceland Review when I was growing up. The dance recitals I remember were presented at the Carnegie Library by the students of “Pat’s School of Dance,” which was located on Kennywood Blvd in Duquesne Place. I remember both my cousin Paula and Karla Goldman attended the school, and I often went with my Aunt Mary as she observed the classes in session.

The school’s owner was a Duquesne High School 1961 graduate, Pat Kelleher. Pat later married and became Pat Dynoske. She operated the school for 43 and stepped down in 2003. The article below was published in 2003 and paid tribute to one of Duquesne’s own.

I have to admit that I am still recovering from the 16 hour drive to and from in less than 48 hours. I promise that I will recap a little bit more of the trip, but I wanted to just write a little about the special day that occurred this weekend, MOTHER’S DAY.

From what I recall, Mother’s Day in Duquesne was often celebrated in a special way, depending on the age and faith of the family. As a member of the Holy Name Parish, First Holy Communions were often celebrated on Mother’s Day Sunday. I can’t say for certain if it was the same in other parishes. If I am correct and Mother’s Day was set aside for First Holy Communions, I feel bad for the moms that were involved. Can you imagine preparing for not only the whole religious ceremony, but the huge hunky celebration that ensured following the event! Every aunt, uncle and cousin was invited to the house for to commemorate the occasion, to honor the First Communicant and to (of course), eat, drink and be merry!

Below is a picture of the Holy Name 1957 First Communicants. I don’t recognize the two Celebrants in the photo, and only four of the children. I am posting two copies of the same picture, one of which has numbers for each child. If you happen to recognize yourself or a another child, be sure to leave a comment identifying the boy or girl. Happy remembering AND a belated Happy Mother’s Day!

#3 – Peter Kanski, #5 – Tommy Puskaric, #6 – Vendalin Zurvalik,  #7 – Mike O’Malley, #8 - Eugene Hartman, #10 – Tom Duffy, #13A – Christopher Betsch, #13B – Thomas Carr, #16 – Mark Petrozza, #17 – Steve Volk, #18 – Darryl Frizzi, #22 – Gary Nagy, #23 – Dennis Stanko, #25 – Joe Connelly, #30 Judy Merisko, #44 – Paula Goldman, # 50 – Donna Salopek, #54 – Patty Wagner, #9 – Gary Newmeyer

As you help me identify the children, I’ll continue to update the list!

In closing, I thought it appropriate to understand what Mother’s Day was supposed to be all about. Hallmark strikes again! I checked out Wikipedia and for the following brief history of Mother’s Day:

The United States celebrates Mother’s Day on the second Sunday in May. Julia Ward Howe first issued her Mother’s Day Proclamation in 1870 as a call for women to join in support of disarmament, and asked for June 2, 1872, to be established as a “Mother’s Day for Peace”. Howe’s day was not for honoring mothers but for organizing pacifist mothers against war. In the 1880s and 1890s there were several further attempts to establish an American Mother’s Day, but these did not succeed beyond the local level. The current holiday was created by Anna Jarvis in Grafton, West Virginia, in 1908 as a day to honor one’s mother. Jarvis wanted to accomplish her mother’s dream of making a celebration for all mothers, although the idea did not take off until she enlisted the services of wealthy Philadelphia merchant John Wanamaker. She kept promoting the holiday until President Woodrow Wilson made it an official national holiday in 1914. The holiday eventually became so highly commercialized that many, including its founder, Anna Jarvis, considered it a “Hallmark holiday,” i.e. one with an overwhelming commercial purpose. Jarvis eventually ended up opposing the holiday she had helped to create. She died in 1948, regretting what had become of her holiday. In the United States, Mother’s Day remains one of the biggest days for sales of flowers, greeting cards, and the like; it is also the biggest holiday for long-distance telephone calls. Moreover, churchgoing is also popular, yielding the highest church attendance after Christmas Eve and Easter. Many worshipers celebrate the day with carnations, colored if the mother is living and white if she is dead.

BIG EVENTS IN DUQUESNE

60 years ago, on May 1, 1952, the circus came to town. I found the the picture above in The Duquesne News. Can you imagine the thrill in seeing a sight like this on the streets of Duquesne!?! Aside from the obvious pachyderms, I enjoyed seeing the bricked streets and the streetcar tracks. From what I can tell, this parade appeared to be marching across the intersection of North 1st and Grant Avenue, directly in front of the Duquesne City Bank. Although the photo is grainy, notice how well everyone appears to be dressed!

In that same edition of the Times, the following program appeared and outlined the cast of characters and participants in the Senior Class Play, PINK MAGIC.” It took place 60 years ago today, May 2, 1952! It would be great if you can sound in on the production and whether you remember it or even participated in it!

……………. I love music. I usually need to have music playing in order to work or think efficiently and effectively. In spite of my age (ugh), I am very open to most music genres. I certainly have my favorites, however as my daughters were growing-up, I became more tolerant and even appreciative of musical artists of their era as well as most of today’s artists.

I thought a lot about this today. I was talking with a co-worker and discussing how much my mom, dad, aunts and uncles influenced my musical tastes. I was provided with so many opportunities to experience all types of music.

My parents and most of my adult relatives were Big Band Era fans. During family events such as weddings or holiday gatherings, they would often pop on some Billy Vaughn or Mantovani and take to “cutting the rug” as they did when they were younger.

Through their musical preferences, I was able to develop a real appreciation for music. My Aunt Mary had a HUGE impact on my musical tastes. She loved hearing a good voice. Eddie Fisher, Connie Francis, Nat King Cole, Patsy Cline, and Kay Starr were just a few of her favorites. We would turn into WTAE Channel 4 every Saturday night and watch The Lawrence Welk Show. Aunt Mary, along with my cousins Paula and Karla would provide cynical commentary throughout the show, laughing at the bubbles and the overall corniness of the program, but enjoyed it nonetheless. Aunt Mary’s favorite point to make was the fact that Lawrence Welk, in spite of being born in North Dakota, would always speak with a German accent.

I checked Wikipedia and found the following information about Mr. Welk:

“A common misconception is that Welk did not learn English until he was 21. In fact, he began learning English as soon as he started school. The part of North Dakota where he lived had been settled largely by Germans from Russia; even his teachers spoke English as a second language. Welk thus acquired his trademark accent, a combination of the Russian and German accents. He took elocution lessons in the 1950s and could speak almost accent-free, but he realized his public expected to hear him say: “A-one, an-a-two” and “Wunnerful, Wunnerful!” When he was asked about his ancestry, he would always reply “Alsace-Lorraine, Germany,” from where his forebears had emigrated to Russia (and which, at the time of Welk’s birth in 1903, had become part of the German Empire).” 

…………….Living in Duquesne gave me an opportunity to be exposed to the wonderful ethnic music of my hunky heritage. In those days, a wedding reception was never complete until dozens of polkas had been played. Inevitably, all of the ladies and even some gentlemen would take to the dance floor to dance the Hungarian Chardash ( Csárdás.) I was pulled out of my chair several times by my relatives to join in the Chardash. Of course I had NO idea what I was doing, however I  realized after just a few minutes that no one else did either!

On a few occasions, living so close to Pittsburgh afforded us the opportunity to see the Duquesne University Tamburitzans perform. Those performances exposed us to even more of our culture, and a deepening appreciation for its music.  Internation Village in McKeesport provided another opportunity to  connect to our ethnic musical roots as well. Every Sunday when we would visit my grandparents on Duquesne Ave., my grandpa or my Uncle Henry (a.k.a. uncle Chin) would have the radio tuned into a special program of Slovakian music and polkas. It was always part of my life.

I can’t thank my parents, relatives, Holy Name School and Church, the City of Duquesne and all of my ancestors enough for the wonderful gift of music appreciation that they gave to me.

…………………….. Music is but one of the many lifelong gifts that I received duirng my childhood in Duquesne. I have written before about so many aspects of life in Duquesne that made me the person I am today and that molded my character. I consider each character building event to be a gift. I often think about a quote from H. Jackson Brown’s book “Life’s Little Instruction Book” when I try to describe the type of person each of our parents raised us to be – “Live so that when your children think of fairness and integrity, they think of you.”

 In 1996, author William J Bennet published The Moral Compass, an inspiring and instructive work that offers many more examples of good and bad, right and wrong, in great works from literature and in exemplary stories from history. The piece is organized by the stages along life’s journey, with stories and poems that serve as reference points on a moral compass, guiding the reader through the ethical and spiritual challenges along the pathway of life: leaving home, entering into marriage, easing the burdens of others, nurturing one’s children, and fulfilling the obligations of citizenship and leadership.

 Drawn from familiar Western history and mythology as well as a wide selection of tales and folklore from Asia, Africa, and Latin America, the stories in The Moral Compass are literary and evocative, designed to inspire as well as instruct.

 A useful way to think about your “moral compass” is to think of it like an ordinary compass with true North representing Integrity, South – Forgiveness, East -Compassion, and West – Responsibility. These four universal principles are honored in some form by people of all races and religions, regardless of gender.

 There is no question in my mind that my parents, relatives and virtually every person I came into contact with while growing-up in Duquesne lived their lives according to this compass.  These four principles were an innate part of every person’s being. Occasionally, everyone would falter to some degree, but the principles served as the backbone of the community.

I have to admit,  I can’t help but laugh when I think about the “Southern Point” of the moral compass when it came to my father. Forgiveness came very easily to him. Nothing was a big deal. He was thick skinned, unlike me, and intended insults just bounced right off of him. He’d just laugh and crack a joke and defuse a situation without a problem. However, being a “bull-headed hunky,” he would occcasionally hold a grudge. For example, he and my Uncle Lou Goldman were always great friends. They drank together, they played cards together, and at one time they and their families even lived together. They were both staunch members of the GBU in Duquesne, located at the corner of Grant Avenue and Norman St. They could normally be found sitting side-by-side at the club’s bar similar to Norm and Cliff from the TV program “Cheers” that was until they had a “falling out” one day. Their grudge, which manifested itself by their refusal to talk to one another, was a result of my dad opting out of a planned golf date. I have no idea what the circumstances were, but I can’t help but believe that Dad just decided he didn’t want to golf that particular day. Apparently this wasn’t the first time my dad suddenly decided not to keep a golf date with Uncle Lou, again, not hard to believe. I guess Uncle Lou had had enough and said something to my father, who said something back, which caused Uncle Lou to ‘vent” even more, and so on and so on. Anyway, these two bull heads ended up not speaking to each other for the remainder of my dad’s life! As strange as it seems, this “feud” ended up teaching me a lesson about the need for forgiveness and realizing how relationships are far more important than “being right.” It still makes me sad to know that my father and my Uncle Lou never reconciled before my dad passed away in 1999. I know Uncle Lou tried made peace with my dad when he came to pay his respects to my dad when he was laid out at Gregris Funeral Home on Kennedy Ave. While he said his final goodbyes to Dad, he slipped a golf ball into the casket as if to say “Goodbye old friend.”

…………………………….. Perhaps the most cherished gift that my parents, family and neighbors gave to me was their love of life and their savoir faire. Very little would upset my them. It seems that there was a “kinder and gentler” existence in Duquesne. The hostility that seems to permeate our world today was virtually non-existent as I was growing up. People were patient, people were far less judgmental, and road rage was unheard of. People laughed and smiled a lot more. Neighbors talked with one another and even visited each other! Every opportunity to celebrate a holiday was cherished and would usually result in either a family or neighborhood gathering. Family reunions were held every few years, not every few decades as they are now. Bigger wasn’t always better. Homes were modest and families were large. My parents didn’t complain about what they didn’t have, but rather embraced and improved and enriched the blessings they were given. Life was taken seriously, but never overwhelmed Mom or Dad. Somehow, with God’s blessings, challenges were overcome and life was lived to its fullest.

 Thank you Mom and Dad, and thank you Duquesne for all of the gifts you gave to us. It’s just too bad that it takes so long to realize how wonderful those gifts were!

The picture below must have been taken between 1957 and 1959. Thant’s just a guess however. Even though I was not part of this picture, it is rich with memories for me. The  details are like chards of memories coming together to create a very clear memory for me.

I was not a member of this group, however it must have been the folowing year that I was able to become an altar boy. I remember the graphic wall covering that lined the walls of the Sanctuary, but cannot recall the colors. The 6 tall candles that stood on the altar were the High Mass candles and were lit at the 11 o’clock Sunday Mass. I always hated lighting them since I was short and had a lot of difficulty in reaching them. Inevitably, the wick had been tamped down into the wax somehow, and it was very hard to light. Of course, it didn’t help that I always felt that the eyes of everyone in the pews were upon me. I prefered lighting the small candles that are visable to the right of Frank Mullen in the back row. They were quick and easy and rarely gave me any problem.

Above the crucifix there were  painted golden stars on a sky blue background. It was a beautiful focal point for the altar, and I remember staring at it during mass. I think it was quite a feat to have this entire group of 35 boys to be able to recite their entire portion of the Mass in Latin. I came across my old missal last week as I was looking for old photographs and was rather amazed at the amount of Latin that we were required to memorize. “Et cum spiritu tuo” was just the beginning!

I remember that the altar was usually adorned with flowers. Often they were carry over decorations from a wedding that had been held on Saturday. Virtually every crook and cranny contained an arrangement, and there was usually the lingering scent of gladiolas, chrysanthemums and roses in the sanctuary. The memories are still very vivid for me.

Now, here is the challange for all of you. You need to purge your memory banks and help identify the faces in the photograph below. If you know any of them, just use the comment section and tell us who each of the numbered faces belongs to! Happy memory hunting, and “Dominus vobiscum!”

Colleen and her brother Tom sat down and identifield 14 of the kids pictured. Some of the identifications are incomplete, so I hope that you all can help us i.d. more of them. Here’s what Colleen had to say:

“1955 – Back door of Holy Name School. My brother Tom (not pictured) would have been in the 8th grade, helped to identify these kids. Larry McConnell is Mrs. McConnell, the cafeteria cook’s son.  He was in my brother Patrick’s class. ? Smith was from a large family. His sister Diane was in your brother Steve’s class and his sister Rosemary was in my class. Ross Wirth is Barbara’s brother. John Connolly had a sister Ellen in my class. I guess Frank Mullen is the ne who responds to your blog. Lee Mackay had an older brother, Ray. Love the raincoat.”

Colleen sent me the actual photo to share with you along with the following note:

“I think Frank Mullen and Howard Lehman are mixed up because Howard’s brother Ronald was in my class and he had real blonde hair like the one in the picture.”

Maybe Frank or another of our friends can help identify the other boys in the picture. I’m including a clean copy of the photo as well as the i.d. copy and notes. Enjoy your trip back in time:

I remember standing at the very top of these steps and banging the backs of the chalkboard erasers together. We’d produce this big cloud of white dust and usually came back from the chore completely covered in chalk dust. I used to pound the erasers against the black handrails to clean them at times. If any of the nuns caught me doing this, I would always get into trouble.

Now, let’s see if you remember any of the names……

Here are the name that Coleen and her brother Tom associated with the faces:

1. Patrick Byrne (Colleen’s brother – R.I.P. – 1945-2012)

2. Ross Wirth

3. Lee Mackay

4. David Yoesal

5. Maybe Frank ? Minnick

6. ? Ross

7. Maybe Billy ? Minnick

8. Clifford Pitts

9. Frank Mullen

10. ? Smith

11. Frank Lokmer

12. John Connelly

13. Howard Lehman

14. Larry McConnell

I have labeled the remaining kids that you might be able to i.d. Not every face is visable, so do your best in putting a name with a face! Check the photos below to help name the boy. Use the comment section and put a name with the letter to help I.D.:

Judy and I traveled up to visit our kids in eastern PA last week. As we were traveling north on DE-1 through Delaware and crossed the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal Bridge, I was hit with a rush of nostalgia as I glanced eastward and glimpsed the lights of the Delaware City Refining Company. It was early evening, and the sun had just set a few minutes before.

 One of my favorite aspects of writing this blog is discovering interesting tidbits of information as I conduct research. When I decided to write this post, I found out that there was an actual difference between sunset and dusk. Dusk is the beginning of darkness in the evening, and occurs after twilight, (during which the sky generally remains somewhat bright and blue). Civil dusk is when the earth has rotated enough that the center of the sun is at 6° below the local horizon. This marks the end of the evening civil twilight, the point where artificial illumination is required to read outside. It can be confused with sunset, which is the point at which the earth has rotated enough that the sun is no longer visible from the local horizon.

 The refinery lay in the distance from the bridge, but bore a resemblance to the Duquesne mills. There were lights that lined various smoke stacks which like the steel mills, were billowing clouds of white smoke into the semi-darkened sky. The sum-total of all of these images reminded me of living in Duquesne, and the excitement that the arrival of dusk meant warm spring and summer evenings. For example:

•  I remember that the arrival of dusk meant the excitement of catching lightening bugs (a.k.a. fire flies, although we never called them that) was about to begin. Warm summer nights were filled with my friends and I running around the yard just after sunset, trying to be the one who caught the most lightening bugs. The warmer the weather, the more the bugs would fill the night area. We had a large empty lot next to our house, so we had a lot of opportunity to snag a bug. We would often glance toward St. Joseph’s Cemetery at the end of our street and see the empty fields draped in a glistening blanket of lights from the multitude of lightening bugs floating in the air. With an old pickle jar that was topped with a cap full of holes, we would head out into the yard or the cemetery and battle to see who could capture the most before we were called in for the evening.

• Whenever we were treated to an evening at Woodland Drive-In, we would always arrive early enough to allow my brother and I play time on the playground that stood at the base of the massive screen. The entire playground was populated by pajama clad kids running from the swings, to the slide and to all of the other playground equipment in the area. The presence of parents meant there was no tolerance for fighting over “taking turns,” so the playtime ran smoothly. By the time dusk had rolled around, moms and dads were gathering the brood in order to hustle them back to the car before the show started. Often, we were still going full steam when the cartoons would start appearing on the screen and suddenly the air was filled with the sound of Looney Tunes echoing from the field of tiny speakers.

• Dusk was always a very special treat whenever you were at Kennywood Park. It was usually the time of the evening when the lights came on throughout the park. Suddenly, every structure and ride came alive with lights in motion throughout the park. It seemed that senses were heightened at dusk and throughout the remainder of the evening. Thrill rides became even more thrilling at dusk. Even though we knew the rise and fall of every roller coaster, experiencing them in the dark of night made them all the more thrilling. Being perched at the top of the Ferris Wheel while riders were exiting and entering the ride was extra exciting when you were able to look out into the park and see a field of whirling and glistening lights covering the world before you. I would always look out into the distance and see the familiar orange glow hovering above the steel mills and be filled with a sense of comfort and of being home. At dusk there seemed to be a noticeable drop in temperatures, and as we traveled throughout the park, ladies would be donning their sweaters as they continued to enjoy the rides until the music of “Nighty Night” by Alvino Rey finally filled the air.

• As I grew older and started high school and driving, dusk usually meant the start of an evening of fun, in the company of friends. Gathering on each other’s porches, going to a dance, meeting at the Dairy Queen near Kennywood, or just strolling, laughing and keeping each other company provided special times to all of us. In the absence of Facebook, iPads, cell phones and other technological gizmos that have become part of our lives, we actually relied on face-to-face interaction to entertain ourselves. The sense of security and comfort that we all felt as we spent evenings outside was wonderful. Danger and fear were not even a consideration. It was the best of times.

 Take a few minutes the next time evening falls, and just look toward the west and let your mind wander back to the times when that time of day was often the beginning of yet another joy of our youth.

Back in the 50’s and 60’s, choices in channels and programing were basically limited to the big 3 ½, ABC – CBS – NBC and a half point to the viewer supported PBS. I will forever remember Sunday afternoons when we would gather at my Aunt Mary and Uncle Lou’s home after church to sit and watch an hour’s worth of 3 Stooges Episodes. We would religiously tune in WTAE, Channel 4 and howl at the continuing misadventures of Moe, Larry and Curly.

My cousins and I weren’t alone in our enjoyment of the Stooges. My Uncle Lou (Goldman) was the instigator of this Sunday afternoon tradition. As we would watch the Stooges each Sunday, he would howl, cough, and snort with laughter. Clinging to his HUGE brown and tan coffee cup, he had a habit for repeating the insults the Stooges hurled while watching.

The part I will never forget is how disgusted my Aunt Mary was when we were watching. I’m sure that the words “knuckleheads and morons” came to mind whenever she saw us watching the Stooges. My wife is no different than my Aunt Mary. She just cannot understand what I think is so funny about the trio. I’m sure there will be no way that I’ll be able to convince her to see the new 3 Stooges Movie that recently premiered.

Post-Gazette film critic emeritus Barry Paris, reviewed the new Stooges movie on after its premier on Friday, April 13, 2012. I wrote to Mr. Paris and received permission to post his review for your enjoyment and enlightenment.

 An Appreciation: ‘The Three Stooges,’ Eternally Moronic

By Barry Paris / Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

 The cyclical nature of Stooge-mania is not unlike that associated with biblical plagues, locust invasions and the reliable return of Halley’s comet.

 They were Ted Healy’s comets, originally. But were they the greatest film comedy team? The Marx Brothers, Laurel & Hardy, and Abbott & Costello would beg to differ. Yet for legions of sophomoric and sophomoronic fans, the ultimate wits — dim or half — will ever be Moe, Larry and Curly.

 The new “Three Stooges” movie, which opened Friday on lucky April 13, is co-directors Peter and Bobby Farrelly’s contemporary take on the time-tested boneheads’ iconic-ironic formula, re-creating those puerile personas in a (slightly) modernized situation with a fresh set of latter-day Stooges who look and sound amazingly like the originals.

 Seems that baby Moe, Larry and Curly have been left on the doorstep of a convent orphanage — “newborn angels from heaven,” say the nuns, until one of them, Sister Mary-Mengele (Larry David), gets eye-poked by Moe and goes sailing head over habit. The boys grow up nyuk-nyuk-nyuking and woo-woo-wooing to immaturity, becoming the home’s inept maintenance men and meeting femme fatale-tamale Lydia (“Modern Family’s” Sofia Vergara) who gets them involved in a murder plot and — oh, never mind …

Have I told you lately about the Apotheosis of My Childhood? Thanks for asking. It was Jan. 3, 1959 — the day the Three Stooges came to the late great Holiday House in Monroeville for their first live appearance since vaudeville days. For a 10-year-old in the Eisenhower administration, this was equivalent to the resurfacing of Amelia Earhart and an audience with the pope, combined. My cousins and I, in our best clip-on ties, strained to get autographs from three snarly old men, barely tolerating us and our flashbulb-popping Kodaks. In the spirit of the occasion, we’d drop the just-used hot ones down each other’s backs — for guaranteed howls. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk…

 No wonder the Stooges’ influence generated such universal parental disapproval. We were always hearing horror stories about kids who poked each other’s eyes out, but we concluded that anyone dumb enough to actually “pick two” — without putting his hand on his nose sideways — deserved to be blinded.

No less a figure than Moe himself addressed that contentious subject, when asked by a Post-Gazette reporter at Kennywood. “The eye thing is out [of the act] now,” he growled, since meddlesome groups like the Pittsburgh Jaycettes were petitioning to ban the Stooges from TV. Moe had no doubt who was to blame: “Women!” he fumed, unrepentant. “Why don’t they stay home and criticize their children?”

 Stooge History 101: Ted Healy discovered the Howard brothers (Moses and Samuel Horwitz, aka Moe and Shemp) during a 1922 show in Brooklyn; “Porcupine” Larry Fine (1902-1975) joined the act in 1925. Billed as “Ted Healy and His Stooges,” the trio served as foils to Healy’s jokes. When Shemp (1895-1955) left to go solo, Moe (1897-1975) enlisted youngest brother Jerry (1903-1952), a comic dancer and conductor on the vaudeville circuit. They would make 190 short comedies for Columbia over 25 years. In 1946, Curly’s stroke on the set of “Half-Wits Holiday” ended his career and prompted a string of substitute Curlies, including Joe Besser (whose contract stipulated he could never be slapped by Moe — what a wimp!).

 Greatest hits among the legendary shorts:

“You Natzy Spy,” filmed a year before America entered World War II, in which Moe does his immortal Hitler send-up and Curly plays fat Field Marshal Herring.

“We Want Our Mummy,” set in the Egyptian tomb of King Rooten Tooten and Queen Hotsie-Totsie. When not floor-spinning in a circle, Curly — the Rudolf Nureyev of slapstick — takes his memorable dip in a desert-mirage ocean of sand. 

“A-Plumbing We Will Go” (with the racist, bug-eyed servant refrain, “Feet, do yo’ stuff!”), “Boobs in Arms,” “They Stooge to Conga” — the list is endless.

 Back to the future-present incarnation: The three new stooges — Chris Diamantopolous as Moe, Will Sasso as Curly and Sean Hayes (Jack on “Will & Grace”) as Larry — are not quite household names but have excellent chemistry, from the excerpts I’ve seen. Give the Farrelly Bros. (“Dumb & Dumber,” “There’s Something About Mary”) high marks for verisimilitude — of the signature gags and all-important sound effects and “boinks!” from the two-reelers that punctuate the slapstick. This effort had the real potential to bomb but doesn’t because it sticks to basics.

Basic what? Basic absurd repetition and predictability. Like Clarabelle sneaking up behind Buffalo Bob with a seltzer bottle on “Howdy Doody,” with the peanut gallery going bananas, trying to warn him. (“Huh? What is it, kids?” — but he never turns around.) Basic bonking.

Which raises the age-old Gender Debate: Why do men find the Stooges so riotously funny, while precious few women do (my cousins Carole and Lynn being glorious exceptions)? It’s because the Stooges do everything mothers tell boys not to do: run with sharp objects, poke people in the eyes, bash each other with shovels. They represent vicarious male rebellion, full of stupid noises, pratfalls, bad puns — a delicious juvenile “cultural regression” that never goes out of style.

The Farrellys’ homage is surprisingly enjoyable. If it corrupts — I mean, inspires — a new generation to Stooge awareness, who am I (or other geriatric Stooge purists) to object? Whilst we wax rhapsodic, they wax moronic into eternity. The last Stoogefest at the Syria Mosque in 1991 drew 6,000 people. Then and now, all you can say is — “Spread out!”

Post-Gazette film critic emeritus Barry Paris: parispg48@aol.com.

First Published 2012-04-15 04:17:10

As much as Mr. Paris had some particular favorites among the original 3 Stooges shorts, I too had some standouts that I remember. So sit back, grab a cup of coffee like my Uncle Lou and enjoy the following clips:

Gents without Cents

Horse Collars

Violent is the Word for Curly – Swinging the Alphabet

A few weeks ago, I received an email from Jim Hartman (Mifflin Township Historical Society) that opened my eyes to the world of hunky technology. Jim had sent me a link to a website that featured all types of kitchen gadgets. In particular, this site offered a hunky version of technology in the form of a PEROGIE MAKER! Granted, it wasn’t the cutting edge technology of Bill Gates or Steve Jobs, but nonetheless, it was an invention that specifically addressed a need that helped bubbas and hunkys worldwide.

Although I was fascinated about the actual device, what caught my eye when I visted the site was the item’s creator, Hunky Bill! I decided to investigate a bit more about this fellow Hunky and eventually landed on his website HUNKYBILL.BIZ. On his site is the following brief bio:

• Born in the “true” North end of Winnipeg on Euclid Avenue in Point Douglas on May 15th 1931, Hunky Bill attended Norquay, Aberdeen and St. John’s Schools. He worked at the C.P. Telegraphs till 1956 before migrating to Chicago, where he lived for two years.
  
• Working as a freelance sports reporter, Bill met and interviewed many sports celebrities including Mickey Mantle, Casey Stengel, Bobby Hull, Yogi Berra and the legendary Ted Williams. Casey Stengel called him the Crazy Canuck after watching him consume his favorite beverage – beer.
  
• He met his wife to be Kay Eyre in 1958 and they married in Winnipeg where Bill joined radio station CKY. Bill and Kay stayed in Winnipeg until l966, taking their two sons Billy and Clay to Vancouver to join the CJOR team.
  
• In 1967 the radio station CFUN made him General Sales Manager and he stayed there until 1971. While at CFUN he was also importing Ukrainian food from Winnipeg. While enjoying himself one day at the Ritz Hotel, a friend bet him ten dollars that he couldn’t get a booth at the Pacific National Exhibition (Vancouver’s big annual fair.). Bill went down to the PNE and pleaded and argued for an hour and finally he was given a booth. He won his ten-dollar bet and the rest is history. Another important happening was a third son Mark being born in May of 1967.
  
• Hunky Bill’s Perogie Maker was a smash success. It allows the user to cut, seal and form perogies in one easy step. The B-I-G and Little Perogie Makers are available around the world. So buy a Perogie Maker and hold a perogie party!

Hunky Bill is actually a gentleman by the name of Bill Konyk. Just by looking at him, you have to know that Bill is a character! I would love to just sit down and speak to him about all of his adventures while a sports reporter, and also share all of his “hunky” stories. I came across a You Tube video of a commercial that Hunky Bill did for his product. Just click below to watch, and make sure your sound is turned up on you computer: