In Memorium – Tim Chonko


I received the following from Tammy Chonko on April 5th:

From Tammy Chonko:

This Easter, well March 10th, my husband for 39 years and high school sweetheart from DHS class of ’76 passed away suddenly from an aneurysm. Our time on earth is precious. Live every moment as though it is your last. He was in the hospital talking with me one moment, called out my name, and slumped into the chair with his last breath.
He and I lived in Duquesne all but for 3 years while he was in the Army. I will never forget him saying as we rode through the streets recently, “Tam, I love this town. I just love it.”
There IS something about Duquesne that sticks in your heart. Tim knew someone everywhere we went, mainly because he grew up in the Burns Heights projects. He shared many fond memories of that time. Funny, but he even knew someone who was buried about ten stones down from him in the crypt at Cemetery of the Alleghenies. forgive me if I get this wrong, but I think it was his baseball coach, Mr. Ted Barker.
I write to say Tim’s good-bye to all he knew. He loved everyone and treated all is if he knew them forever. His Chonko laugh and sweet blue-eyed infectious smiling face will be missed in this world.
Hope lives in the resurrection of Our Lord that we will meet again.
Tammy Chonko



Thank you for your beautiful heartfelt tribute to Tim. I am sure that he is smiling down on you, proud of your incredible strength of character to remember him to the people and city that he loved. As remarkable a husband that he must have been, you too are an incredible wife. Thank you for your thoughts and conveying his love for Duquesne. God bless you and your family on behalf of all of those who shared Tim’s love for the place he called home.

Jim Volk – The Duquesne Hunky


Tim ChonkoTimothy M. “Tim” Chonko, 57, of Duquesne, died Thursday, March 10, 2016, at UPMC Shadyside. He was born Aug. 22, 1958, in McKeesport, to the late Joseph and Marian (Koontz) Chonko. He worked for Field Environmental Instrument as an electrical technician. He formerly worked at Pittsburgh Brewing Co. as an electrical foreman. He proudly served his country in the Army. He was the husband of 39 years to Tammy Chonko; father of Jeffrey (Erin) Chonko, Julia Chonko and Kara (Ryan) Sharp Dixon; grandfather of R.J. Dixon; brother of Esther (late Joseph “Bud”) Kratzenberg, Patricia (late Carl) Bucy, Ruth (George) Pisko, Virginia “Ginny” (Ralph) Lemak, Ona (Mark) Horgas, James “Jimbo” (Marie) Chonko, late JoEllyn “Jody” (late Calvin) Wigton; also nieces and nephews.



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Easter Repost

With just one day remaining before we celebrate Easter Sunday, I decided to post a previous article that I wrote a couple of years ago. My, how things have changed.

Last week, many of us made our annual midweek trip to Church to obtain the mark of our humanity and mortality. Ash Wednesday, as a child of Holy Name Grade School, was an ashevent that unlike five of the seven sacraments, was not age restricted. Wee ones were able to approach the altar side-by-side with parents and siblings, older kids, teens and adults alike. 

The good sisters at Holy Name did an outstanding job of helping every child understand the solemnity and significance of the Ash Wednesday. I can still hear Sister Martin DePorres telling us the reason behind the ashes as we sat in her 2nd grade classroom. At that age, ANYTHING that a nun would tell us was gospel in our minds. So with awe and wonderment we would proudly wear our ashes throughout the day and spontaneously begin all of our Lenten rituals and responsibilities. 

As a child, I remember the big decision I had to make at the start of each Lenten season. What was I going to give up for Lent? Of course my first inclination was to give up things like spinach or brussel sprouts, but those were never given the thumbs-up from Mom or the nuns since I would NEVER, EVER, consider eating them in the first place. My final choice was usually a STRONLY suggested one from Mom. Candy, cookies, donuts or cake were usually her “go-to” items. The 40 days of Lent were the longest I could ever imagine as a child. 

Here’s a bit of trivia about the 40 days of Lent that unfortunately, I learned too late in life. According to the Catholic Encyclopedia: 

Question: Lent, the period of prayer and fasting in preparation for Easter, is 40 days long, but there are 46 days between Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent in the Roman Catholic liturgical calendar, and Easter. So how are the 40 days of Lent calculated? 

Answer: The answer takes us back to the earliest days of the Church. Christ’s original disciples, who were Jewish, grew up with the idea that the Sabbath—the day of worship and of rest—was Saturday, the seventh day of the week, since the account of creation in Genesis says that God rested on the seventh day. 

Christ rose from the dead, however, on Sunday, the first day of the week, and the early Christians, starting with the apostles (those original disciples), saw Christ’s Resurrection as a new creation, and so they transferred the day of rest and worship from Saturday to Sunday. 

Since all Sundays—and not simply Easter Sunday—were days to celebrate Christ’s Resurrection, Christians were forbidden to fast and do other forms of penance on those days. Therefore, when the Church expanded the period of fasting and prayer in preparation for Easter from a few days to 40 days (to mirror Christ’s fasting in the desert, before He began His public ministry), Sundays could not be included in the count. 

Thus, in order for Lent to include 40 days on which fasting could occur, it had to be expanded to six full weeks (with six days of fasting in each week) plus four extra days—Ash Wednesday and the Thursday, Friday, and Saturday that follow it. Six times six is thirty-six, plus four equals forty. And that’s how we arrive at the 40 days of Lent! 

Had I known this as a child, I would have definitely used this tidbit as a way to eat sweets on Sundays. DARN!!!! 

I have to toss out a big “thank you” to Mike Ferchak for the comment he made earlier this 4-18-60week. He reminded me of a Duquesne institution of sorts, and one that was featured in LIFE Magazine in April of 1960. Aside from the rudimentary aspects of the Lenten Season that I remember, I also recall attending one of the performances of the Passion Play at Duquesne Library with my parents. I was able to unearth the article from the April 18, 1960 issue of LIFE and wanted to share it with you.

Just in case your eyesight is as dicey as mine, I’ve transcribed the text from the article so that you can read it more easily.


For centuries, the story of Christ’s betrayal, trial and crucifixion has been retold during Lent in passion plays acted by laymen. This year an unusual troupe in Pittsburgh has given the play a special kind of homely realism. The actors are mostly steelworkers whose rugged bearing gives them a look that the apostles – who were workingmen – and Roman soldiers might have had. And their involvement in the roles gives their portrayals a sincerity that more than makes up for their lack of polish.

The play, called Calvery, was written in the early 19th Century by an Augustinian priest. A member of the Duquesne-West Mifflin chapter of the Knights of Columbus, which is putting on the play, had read it as a youth and saw his chance of producing when he became a chapter official. It took a great deal of coaxing to get the steelworkers to join the cast, but once they agreed, they worked hard. Preformed seven times during Lent, the play was gripped audiences – and also the actors. Long after the curtain has dropped, they find themselves still caught up in the play and their parts, as they explained in the captions with their pictures.

Passion Play 1


Foreman – Judas

The role of the traitorous apostle, above, counting his 30 pieces of silver, is played by John Ponist, a 47-year-old foreman at U.S.Steel’s Hempstead plant. He finds his role runs him “emotionally dry. . . . . . It takes something out of you to play the part of a man who committed the greatest injustice in history. You can’t help but feel the torture that was racking Judas’ soul.”


Guard – Christ

The 44-year-old policeman at U.S.Steel’s Duquesne Works and brother of the man who plays Judas. Joseph Ponist took the part of Christ only because he “figured somebody had to do it.” Now he finds that it “seems to have made me better. Every once in a while a guy cusses but now I watch myself on that. When you play that role you can’t help but act up to it.”

 Passion Play 2


Foreman – Abiron the Leper

Trainor, 36, a foreman at U.S.Steel’s Irvin Works, plays the part of a leper stoned by the Pharisees because he has overheard their plot. His part was originally a small one but it was made bigger as the rehearsals went on. The play made him “stop and think. . . . Now we know what Calvary is all about. It’s made better Christians of all of us.”



Draftsman – a Chief Priest

The Pharisee leader shown below stoning Abiron the Leper is played by a 31-year-old draftsman at the Ceco Steel Products Corp. in Pittsburgh. A friend persuaded him to try for the part. The play, he says, “really moves you . . . brings you a spiritual lift.” It has given him a sense of history that he did not have, “a feeling for what Calvary was.”

Passion Play 3

MEMBERS OF THE CAST assemble in the final scene (above) and on a Pittsburgh street after work (below).In the foreground of the stage is John Matico, the director of the play, who also plays a high priest. The Christ on the cross (Joe Ponist) stands on the far left in the picture below. The thief on the cross at right (Peter Kanski) stands next to him in the street. Next are Joe Timko (Saint Peter) and Larry Trainor (leper). The others had small parts.

Thank you again Mike for reminding me to remember! I can’t help but wonder if the “Pittsburgh Street” identified in the last picture was actually taken in Duquesne. Any thoughts?


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Christmas Greeting and a Special Gift


Just wanted to take a moment to wish all of you the happiest and most blessed Christmas ever! Take time to cherish the memories of the Christmases of your youth, the pride in your heritage, and the love of the town that built us ….. DUQUESNE!!  


As a special treat, I am posting access to the December 23, 1958 issue of Manger2the Duquesne Times. It contains pages of Christmas greetings from many merchants and businesses that existed in Duquesne and the surrounding areas. In order to view the paper, click on the link below. (Since this is my first time trying to post this type of link, if you are unable to connect and view the paper, my apologies. If you ARE able to connect and view the paper, enjoy your journey back!)

Click here ->   1958_1223

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The Little Things That Mean A Lot At Christmas

There are just a few days remaining before Christmas Day arrives. As usual, I have no hopes of seeing a White Christmas here on the shore, with temperatures expected to be in the mid-70’s. It will be far from the crisp, cold days that I remember as a boy. With such a consistent absence of Christmas-like weather each year, I’ve had to rely on “artificial inspiration” to get that heartfelt holiday mood as Christmas comes closer and closer.

I remember how my mother and/or my Aunt Mary and I, would spend evenings leading toward Christmas in front of a black and white TV watching some of the classic Christmas movies. The networks would air movies such as “It’s A Wonderful Life” or “White Christmas” in lieu of their regular programming, and each time, I would be glued to the set. We would always enjoy goodies while watching the movies. The movie was enough incentive for me to ask for a few slices of poppyseed roll and not be afraid that I’d be turned down with the “Not until Christmas” answer!

I have managed to gather a wonderful assortment of holiday DVDs that I resurrect each year to once again harness those wonderful Christmas feelings. Unfortunately, it has been quite a number of years since I last enjoyed some good old HUNKY poppyseed roll. I’ve learned to substitute just about every other Christmas treat in the house that isn’t nailed down for the poppyseed roll instead.

With today’s technology, being able to enjoy your favorite Christmas movie or Christmas Special is just a click away on your computer. I used to think that watching movies or shows on a computer screen was absurd, considering that we’ve all grown very accustomed to big screen TVs. Although, if you think about it, many of the televisions when we were young, had screens even smaller than some computer monitors! I remember watching TV at my Uncle Mike and Aunt Kay’s house on Archer Street in Port Vue on a tiny black and white screen and was perfectly content to do so. My cousins Michelle, Arlene and Michael Stepetic, and my brother and I would enjoy any show just as much as watching it on today’s big screen TVs…. well, sorta!

The following are clips from my three favorite Christmas movies; White Christmas, Its A Wonderful Life, and Miracle on 34th Street. They’re not very long, and they may be preceded by a short commercial, but they are still worth watching once again.



MIRACLE ON 34TH STREET (The little girl, Susie, is played by Natalie Wood!)



Christmas VILIJA! What In The Hunky World Is That??

My mother was Croatian, my father was Slovak. As a result, I was immersed in two different Eastern European cultures, each with their own set of traditions. It seems that these traditions came to the forefront during the holiday season.

As a Slovak, I was fortunate to be able experience one of the most beloved Christmas traditions, theVilija (pronounced vă – lē´ -yă.) Vilija is the traditional Christmas eve gathering and dinner that is rich with traditional foods, religious symbolism and family.

The vilija continues to this day in my family, and although the venue may have changed, the traditions and symbolism remains intact. What an incredible testimony and homage to the parents, grandparents and hunky culture that helped to set our moral compass.

As part of this posting, I have included a 2005 article from the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review by Karin Welzel. The author does an outstanding job of explaining the tradition, the content and the meaning behind the celebration. Rather than be redundant, allow me to give you my impressions and memories of the event as I experienced it in the 50’s.

The vilija always took place at my Uncle Gary and Aunt Helen’s home in West Mifflin. Just like a scene from “A Big Fat Greek Wedding,” I remember entering their house and immediately getting drawn into the crowd of family that were already preparing the feast.

Their home was always decked out with Christmas decorations galore and every light in the house seemed to be burning. Usually, by Christmas eve in Western Pennsylvania, the weather had usually taken a definite turn and it was normally either snowing or on the verge of doing so. For that reason, whenever I entered their home, it felt so toasty warm compared to the outdoors. Their windows were usually steamed up from all of the cooking that was occurring and from the cranked-up thermostat (Grandma was always cold you know). And then there were the smells! The freshly cut Christmas tree scent hit me as soon as I entered the house. (It must have been the magic aspirins!) Combined with the smell of fresh pine was the amazing aroma emanating from the kitchen and dining room.

All of my aunts were buzzing around a rather cramped kitchen preparing all of the traditional foods. Somehow, all of the foods which were part of our every day lives growing up as a hunky smelled so much better on Christmas Eve!  Stuffed cabbages, pirogies, kielbasa and poppy seed rolls smelled like food for the gods! I was a very picky eater in those days, but somehow, a became a modern day foodie during the vilija.

My uncles had the responsibility of creating a dining surface large enough to accommodate our ever growing family. Since my dad was one of 8 children, the number of people attending was quite large. There was no such thing as a “kids table” in those days, so the eating surface had to accommodate approximately 25 people PLUS the feast itself. The table was usually assembled using two tables which supported large sheets of plywood. It was at least 16 feet long, extended from the dining room into the living room and was always covered with crisp white linens. There were never any decorations on the table, only food, lots and lots of food! The chairs that surrounded the table were a potpourri of chairs from around the house, the out-of-town neighbors and often times from St. Michael’s Church hall. Your seat may not have matched with the neighboring chair, but every family member had their place.

The timing of the dinner was very strategic. It was essential that we ate and were finished with dinner by 6 p.m. In those days, it was important that we allowed for the correct about of time before receiving communion at midnight mass. The Roman Catholic Church has very specific rules governing communion.

Grandpa would always begin the vilija with a blessing. This would be followed by the passing of oplatky (non-blessed communion bread). We would pass a large square piece of oplatky and each person would break a small piece off to be consumed in unison at the end of Grandpa’s blessing. I remember tha the oplatky would always come to the table in an envelop that was decorated with a colorful representation of the birth of Christ.

Once we had taken our oplatky, the feast began. With amazing speed and dexterity, plates and bowls of food were passed around the table and plates were loaded up to the max. Jokes, teasing, memories, and plans for the holidays were just some of the discussions that occurred during the meal. My dad would always be yelled at by my mom and my Aunt Helen for something he might have said to instigate some trouble, but that was expected, and welcome. After the main courses were completed, out came platters and platters of goodies. Poppyseed, apricots and walnuts seemed to be part of every creation. Each would probably be capable of clogging any artery in the room, but somehow, it either didn’t happen or didn’t matter in those days. Naivety was bliss in those days.

Once the dinner was over, my aunts would begin clean-up. Sexist or not, that was the way it was in those days. The men would gather and have some celebratory “shots” and beers, the kids would share their wish lists with each other and the ladies would clean-up the remnants of the feast. There seemed to be an unspoken exception to the communion rule in our family that shots and beers didn’t count when it came to abstaining before communion. Go figure.

After everything was in order, each family departed to get ready for midnight mass at their own parish church. Fully stuffed and raring to go, the remainder of the Christmas Eve activities still laid ahead.

More later………


Celebrate Slovak Style

By Karin Welzel
Sunday, December 11, 2005

From the straw scattered under the dining table to the honey that is spread onto thin oplatky to share among diners, the Slovak Christmas Eve meal — called the Vilija table — abounds with religious symbolism.

Christmas Eve is the most awaited day of the Christmas holiday season, according to Albina and Joseph Senko of Mt. Lebanon, members of Western Pennsylvania’s Slovak community.

“The big day is Christmas Eve rather than Christmas Day,” says Albina Senko, a native of Spis in Slovakia. She is a director of the Western Pennsylvania Slovak Cultural Association, founded by her husband in 1997.

A certified public accountant with McKeever Varga & Senko and a certified financial planner, Joseph Senko also is honorary consul to the Slovak Republic.

The Senkos continue to observe the customs and traditions of their ancestry — Joseph Senko was born in Pittsburgh to Slovakian immigrants — and have made it a personal mission to educate Slovak-Americans and the general public about their culture. They are Roman Catholic, as are most of the inhabitants, but they say Byzantine and Orthodox Rite worshipers might follow similar traditions. Slovakia features a wide variety of dialects and customs, varying from region to region, village to village, family to family.

Albina Senko has her home decorated Slovak-style, including a table-size tree festooned with edible ornaments, such as whole walnuts and wrapped candy. There are intricate ornaments made from straw. On larger trees many years ago, family members used apples, paper roses and candles for decorations, too. The top of the tree often was a star made from straw.

Slovak cooks are busy on Christmas Eve, Albina Senko says. Sauerkraut-mushroom or pea soup, bobalky (sweet dough dumplings) and a variety of fish are a must, as well as meatless pirohy, to maintain the fast observed by the faithful during Advent, which begins the fourth Sunday before Christmas.

In anticipation of the celebration, hay or straw is placed under the tablecloth or under the table — or both places — to symbolize the poverty of Christ in a humble manger. Some families place straw in the center of the Advent candle wreath, Albina Senko says, and a figure of the baby Jesus is placed on top.

The table is covered with a white cloth as a symbol of the swaddling clothes of the Christ child. Another tradition is to set an extra place setting to receive a stranger or in honor of a deceased loved one.

The dinner starts at the sighting of the first star of the evening.

“You tell the youngest child to look for it — it may be that it’s just to keep them occupied, because there is a lot of expectation,” says Albina, adding that there is just as much merriment at her house for Christmas Eve now as when her six children were small. She has grandchildren who are excited about the lights, the dinner and gifts.

After the house and table are blessed using a pine bough and holy water, a mulled red wine steeped with cinnamon sticks or herbs and honey is served to diners. Albina Senko sweetens her wine with cranberry juice, cinnamon-sugar and a dash of nutmeg.

The ceremony then focuses on a waferlike “bread” called oplatky (altar bread) that is broken, dipped in honey and distributed to each family member, starting with the husband to his wife. The head of the household dips his thumb in honey and makes the sign of the cross on the foreheads of each member of the household so they will be reminded to keep Christ foremost in their thoughts and praying that harmony will sweeten their lives.

Part of this ceremony focuses on daughters who are eligible for marriage.

Says Albina Senko: “The mother takes honey on her finger, makes a cross on their heads and says, ‘May you be sweet and find a husband soon!’ I did it with my own daughters.”

The next course usually is a tart soup — sauerkraut and mushroom is a popular choice — to represent the bitter destiny of Christ and his suffering for humanity. The family then loads up their plates with bobalky, sweet dough balls baked and mixed with sauerkraut or poppy seeds, symbolic of a plentiful crop. Joseph Senko likes a topping of cottage cheese on them, too.

Platters display a variety of fish that has been floured and quickly sauteed in oil. Because Slovakia is land-locked, carp and trout are common, but Albina Senko likes white fish such as tilapia to grace her table.

Also served are pirohy stuffed with fillings ranging from sauerkraut to cheese and potato; and English peas, which represent a bountiful growing season. Albina Senko folds peas into a mayonnaise-rich potato salad; other families fold peas into hot mashed potatoes. Holubky are cabbage rolls stuffed with ground mushrooms and rice.

The Vilija ends on a sweet note, with nut and poppy seed rolls. Walnuts in the shell and apples also are placed on the table.

None of the foods contain meat, still keeping with the Advent fast.

To wrap up the meal sweetly, Slovaks traditionally serve kolaci, pastry rolls made with sweet dough filled with poppy seeds, dried fruit or nuts.

In recognition of the empty seat at the table, none of the food is removed from the table after the diners are finished. “It’s for the people who couldn’t be there,” Albina Senko says. Before midnight in Slovakia, the animals in the barns are given remnants of the meal — the food from the table is supposed to make them healthy and productive for the coming year.

The Senkos host tours regularly to Slovakia to acquaint Americans with their culture. Albina Senko is a retired travel tour operator, as well as a frequent translator for Slovakian visitors and officials who visit Pittsburgh. It is their wish to improve the lives of their countrymen across the sea and bring Slovakian culture into the homes of the general public.

These traditional dishes of a Slovak Christmas Eve table feature simple, earthy ingredients — plus a bevy of sweets.

Slovak Christmas Eve Soup
(Sauerkraut Soup)

This recipe is adapted from one by Albina Senko, a native Slovakian who lives in Mt. Lebanon. Senko is from Spis in the northeast region of the Carpathian Mountains. Although Slovakia is only about the size of West Virginia , with 5.5 million people, Senko says, there is a lot of variety in customs among the towns and villages.

  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 medium-size yellow onion, chopped
  • 1 cup sliced mushrooms
  • 1 can (16 ounces) sauerkraut, drained but rinsed only lightly
  • Water
  • Paprika, to taste
  • Salt and ground black pepper, to taste
  • 1 vegetable bouillon cube, optional
  • 1 carrot, sliced
  • 1 potato, peeled and diced

Heat the oil in a soup pot. Add the onions and mushrooms and saute until translucent. Add the drained sauerkraut, water to cover the sauerkraut, paprika, salt, black pepper and the bouillon cube, if desired. Let simmer — do not boil — adding more water so you still have broth.

Add the carrot and potato and simmer until tender, for about 15 to 20 minutes, adding more water as needed to keep a souplike consistency.


These bite-sized dumplings can be made from frozen and thawed sweet bread dough to save time. Form portions of the dough into 1-inch rolls, then cut small pieces and bake. The National Slovak Society offers this recipe.

  • 1 package active dry yeast
  • 1/2 cup lukewarm water
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided
  • 6 cups all-purpose flour, more for dusting board
  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil, more for greasing baking sheet
  • About 2 cups tap water
  • Boiling water

Dissolve the yeast in the lukewarm water. Add the salt and 1 tablespoon sugar. Let set to proof, for about 10 minutes.

Sift together the flour and remaining 1 tablespoon sugar. Add the yeast mixture, 1/4 cup oil and enough of the 2 cups tap water to make a workable dough. Knead well. Let the dough rise until doubled.

Meanwhile, grease a cookie sheet with oil.

Punch down the dough. Cut off portions of the dough about the size of an egg. Roll each out on a floured board by hand to make rolls about 1 inch in diameter. Cut into 1-inchbobolky pieces. Place the pieces on the prepared cookie sheet and let rise for about 20 minutes.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees.

Bake the dumplings for about 10 minutes, or until lightly browned. Let cool, then separate. Place in a colander and pour boiling water over them. Drain quickly to prevent sogginess.

Combine these mixtures with half of the bobalky.

Sauerkraut: Saute 1 small onion, chopped, in 2 tablespoons vegetable oil. Add 1 pound drained sauerkraut. Cook for about 15 minutes. Add to half of the bobalky.

Poppy seeds: Combine 1 cup ground poppy seeds, 2 tablespoons honey and 1/4 cup water. Add to the remaining bobalky.


g-karlovarske-oplatkyCommercially prepared Oplatky — the thin wafers coated with honey and then broken at dinner on Christmas Eve and shared among diners — is available from specialty food markets, Slovak and Polish churches and can be purchased through the Internet. Or, you can make your own, using a hot iron form or mold. This recipe is from the National Slovak Society.

  • 5 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 5 teaspoons butter, melted
  • 2 cups cold milk
  • 3 3/4 cups cold water

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl until the mixture has a “pancake” batter texture — smooth and thin. Pour small portions — about a heaping tablespoon — onto a very hot iron form or mold.

Makes 98 oplatky, about 5 inches in size.

The Slovak Christmas Eve dinner does not contain dairy or animal products because the day before the Feast of the Nativity is one of strict fast and spiritual preparation. Here are some foods likely to be served. Their appearance depends upon whether the family is Roman Catholic, Byzantine or Orthodox.

Bandurky — Potatoes, usually boiled, to which onions sauteed in oil have been added. Many families prepare potatoes that are mashed and mixed with peas or prunes.

Bobalky — Small balls of dough prepared with honey and poppy seeds or sauerkraut

Borscht — Beet soup sometimes prepared with cabbage

Fasolji — Prepared brown bean paste spread onto bread

Garlic — Eaten raw on the Christmas bread dipped in honey, intended to keep away the evil spirits

Holuby — Cabbage rolls stuffed with ground mushrooms and rice

Hribi — Mushrooms sauteed with onions in oil

Kapusta i bandurky — Sauerkraut mixed with grated potatoes

Kasa — Rice, sometimes served as a separate dish with zapraska or macanka over it as a gravy

Kvasna Kapusta — Sauerkraut

Loksa (Loksha) — Unraised biscuits

Med — Honey, symbolic of the sweetness of being with the Lord.

Mezanec — An unleavened Christmas bread usually dipped in honey and eaten with a slice of raw garlic

Orehi — Nuts

Pagac — Two layers of dough between which cabbage or potatoes have been spread, then baked

Pirohy (often spelled pierogies) — Dough packets filled with sauerkraut, potatoes, sweet cabbage or prunes

Riba — Fish, usually a white fish baked or smoked, which is symbolic of the Christian faith because Christ was the fisher of men

Sol — Salt

Suseni slivki — Stewed prunes

Zapraska — A thick brown sauce used to prepare various soups and gravies. Among the soups prepared with Zapraska base:

Macanka (Machanka)— A thick mushroom soup

Sauerkraut Soup, with sauerkraut juice added. Usually single ingredients such as green beans, peas, lima beans, mushrooms or butter beans can be added.

Lima Bean Soup

Mushroom-Sauerkraut Soup

Green Split Pea Soup

Caraway Soup

Green Bean Soup

Rice and Mushroom Soup

— National Slovak Society, Canonsburg

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The Sound of Christmas

There is no Christmas song that immediately takes me back to Christmas in Duquesne as instantly as the carol “In a Manger Lowly.” I posted a video on this blog as well as YouTube, that I put together a few years ago. Yesterday, I received a comment from someone who viewed the video. They are the great great niece of the song’s composer! How wonderful is that?!

This recording of In a Manger Lowly is a selection from an album recorded by the Sisters of Saint Joseph at their mother house in Baden. They were sold at Holy Name School and my mother cherished every song. Enjoy!

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My Christmas Memory Quilt

RudolphA few nights ago, I sat and watched the perennial Christmas TV Special, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Not an unusual thing for one to do, except if you consider that I’m 64 years old, and I was alone! However, I was not about to break my viewing streak of 50 years! Since Rudolph was first aired on December 6, 1964, I have watched it every single year. This year marked the 51st consecutive year for me. Some people take on the Boston Marathon or Tour de France, but this little hunky tackled Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer!!

I believe my real reason for watching the show year after year is a simple one. I recall watching the program with my mom in 1964. We watched it on our black and white Zenith TV set. There was a light snowfall that evening, and the temperature was in the lower 20’s making for perfect Christmas special viewing weather. I remembered the details so vividly, as that was the one and only time I was able to enjoy the show with my mother. She passed away the following August at 45 years of age. Each year since ’64, that memory returns, and an emptiness is filled in my heart.

When you get right down to it, the holidays are all about those very unique and very personal snippets of memories that occurred throughout your life at Christmastime. There were the traditions which families had continued for decades on end; such as the cutting down the family Christmas tree, making holiday cookies together, the Christmas Eve Valeija or perhaps attending Midnight Mass together.

Our family’s tradition could be easily described as the cadence of Christmas visits that began on Christmas Eve and culminated on The Feast of the Epiphany. Every evening between the two days meant a visit to an aunt for uncle or a visit FROM the entire gang. Considering that I had a total of 21 aunts and uncles living in the immediate area then add in about 30 cousins, and each night was one crazy Hunky Hullabaloo!

When I think of MY Christmas memories, I certainly remember the visits and parties, but I also recall tidbits of memories that come together to mentally form my own sensory patchwork Christmas quilt.

  • Among the multitude of the patches that are part of MY quilt, there would be one patchYeast that helps me to remember the very distinctive aroma of yeast cubes being dissolved in milk on the stove. It seems that every home in the neighborhood began preparing their poppy seed and nut rolls during the same week. If I happened to be visiting a friend or a relative, I was also quick to pick out that aroma and knew that before the visit was over, I’d be enjoying a freshly baked slice of poppy seed roll.
  • Another patch would represent another distinctive holiday smell. My parents purchased their first artificial Christmas tree in 1963. With that tree’s arrival, several sets of new multicolored mini-lights arrived as well. Sadly, that meant that the blue C7 lights we used on the live trees in years prior were retired and eventually discarded. Although we were all excited about the new tree and lights, it took years before I realized how the new tree impacted a piece of my memory.

d91ba0486b8acb1ebcbc3f665533e247Like most families in Duquesne, we chose our live Christmas tree from one of the many lots that would spring up throughout the area. Each one looked the same with strings of white lightbulbs illuminating the huge assortments of fresh pines, and an old oil drum with a toasty fire to stand next to and keep warm. Dad would pick out the best tree, get an ok from my brother and me, gather up a bundle of extra branches, tie the tree in the trunk and then head up Kennedy Avenue towards home.

Once we arrived at home, Dad would immediately show the tree to Mom and try to convince her that it would fit in the house AND he can add branches to make it the perfect shape. Once he had moved the tree into our garage, he’d begin to drill holes into the trunk and insert the extra branches around the tree until he created the “perfect tree.” As he drilled the holes into the fresh pine tree trunk, the garage was filled with the scent of pine from the sap that was released and the heat that was generated from the drill bit as it was doing its job.

After Dad had finished shaping the tree, he would move it into the house and the nextour tree with us step took place. Dad was in charge of stringing the blue Christmas lights onto the tree. He would meticulously clip each light onto the tree in a precise location. He said he wanted to be sure it looked nice and full, and bright. What followed the satisfactory blue light placement was yet another very distinctive smell that to me, only meant that it was Christmas. Each year, my father would flock the tree with can after can of spray snow. Aside from the toxic fumes that were released when he was spraying (he made us leave the room and go up to our rooms,) however, it was the smell of the spray snow as it dried on the hot C7 bulbs that I recall. The fact that my dad never tried to remove the snow from the bulbs resulted in years of residue on the bulbs, however it never caused an issue.

  • A piece of my memory quilt would be reserved for Christmas cards. My recollection isn’t anything unusual except when compared to what occurs now. I remember the hours and hours Mom would spend at the dining room table addressing all of the cards. Typically, she would send out 100 or more cards as a result of our large family, my parent’s many friends, and my dad’s customers from his auto repair business. There were piles and piles of outgoing cards stacked on the table, each appropriately stamped with their 4 cent stamp, neatly addressed and bundled with twine according to where they were being sent. Approximately 2 weeks before Christmas, my dad would drop the bundles of cards off at the Duquesne Post Office on Second Street. 

1950sChristmasCardRoadsidePicturesFlickrI always looked forward to the reciprocal nature of sending cards back then. In the weeks before Christmas, our mailbox would be overflowing with incoming holiday greetings. My job was to open them up with my mom. She in turn would check off the sender’s name in her red Christmas card ledger book and make sure the return address on the envelope was the same as the address she had sent hers to. We would stack all of the cards that we received into a small wooden sleigh that sat on our buffet during the Christmas season. By Christmas Day, it was overflowing!

What a contrast to today’s society, myself included. I probably send out a sum total of 20 cards. One box of cards is always enough. Of course, the cost of the postage for the 20 cards alone is more than double the cost of sending out 245 cards in the 50’s. I certainly miss receiving the cards. Opening an email with a Christmas greeting is great, but it isn’t the same as opening an envelope and getting a cascade of glitter in your lap!

There are so many other bits of sights, sounds and smells that add more and more substance to my quilt of Christmas memories including:

  • The sound that the foil Christmas bell decorations made each time they hit the window when the wind blew.
  • The whistling sound of the wind through our windows on snowy nights in spite of the storm windows that were hung each year.
  • Watching my mom make some of the traditional food that we had for our visitors each year. Grinding beets, making stuffed cabbage, cooking and slicing a huge ham, peeling green onions and so on. Mom always found a way to allow me to help and always made me part of the fun, although I doubt she would have called it that!
  • Driving past Holy Name School and seeing all of the classroom windows that had been decorated with poster paints in an array of Christmas themes.
  • Attending children’s Christmas parties at the Duquesne Annex, the Slovak Club, the Croatian Club or the Moose and coming back with a bag of goodies.
  • Listening intently to the radio each day for an occasional Christmas song to validate that the holiday was really coming.
  • Watching Christmas cartoons while lying on the living room floor with my feet propped up on the wall over the heating vent. (This always irritated Mom.)
  • The beautiful amber glow of snowfall when looking out our windows at night on Thomas Street.

What a wonderful time to think back to all of the special memories that make up your own Christmas Quilt. Share with us if you would like by commenting on this post. Perhaps the mention of your own special memory will trigger warm memories for someone else. Let’s keep the spirit of community alive!

Amber snow





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Our Thanksgiving Snow

I never get enough of this story. I only wish I would have had the chance to be there. I was just born to late! Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!

The following article appeared in The Duquesne Times on November 30, 1950. There was no Times published on November 23, 1950 due to the snowfall. Unfortunately, there were no photos in the Times published on November 30th, so a photojournalistic account of the snowfall does not exist.

I wasn’t witness to what eventually became known as “The Great Appalachian Storm of 1950” in the history books. I was born in 1951, and began to hear all of the local legends about the snowstorm at a very early age. The storm was an issue far beyond the boundaries of Duquesne and there are several recollections from people from the surrounding areas.

I have assembled some of those stories, some photos that I posted last year, plus a few new ones from other nearby communities. I hope you enjoy the recaps and that they conjure up some of your own memories. If they do, be sure to tell us about them in the comment section. If you are like me and were born after the event, tell us about stories your parents or relatives may have told you about the storm!


The Duquesne Times – November 30, 1950.

Duquesne is gradually digging its way out of the greatest snowfall in local history.

Through the cooperation of the city, Carnegie-Illinois and the Rogan Trucking Co, all of the city’s main arteries were open for limited emergency travel within 24 hours.

By today, a large section of West Grant Avenue and the business district of First Street were free of snow.

With the exception of a few minor accidents Duquesne weathered the storm without a serious mishap.

Councilman Walter V. Babic who supervised “Operation Cleanup” is to be congratulated for coordinating the snow clearance program as are Mayor Frank Kopriver, Jr., his fellow councilmen and the other employees who worked around the clock to prevent any serious tragedy from occurring here.

Duquesne’s fire department spent a relatively quiet weekend, answering 5 calls none of which resulted in very much damage.

Duquesne’s schools closed since Friday will reopen for all classes on Monday.

We believe Mr. Babic used exceptionally good judgment in opening all arteries as a fire precautionary measure before attempting to remove the snow from any street. Had the occasion demanded, firemen would have been able to reach any point in the city on Monday.

City facilities were accorded persons stranded in Duquesne by the snow. Three college students spent Friday, Saturday and Sunday at the fire station leaving Monday morning to return to their classes at Penn State.

Two families, one from Norfolk and the other from Wilkinsburg were also given shelter at the Municipal building.

The greatest hazard today is that of overburdened roofs. Mayor Kopriver called on owners of flat roofed buildings to take every precaution by removing the snow at the earliest possible opportunity. The roof of a garage at the rear of 74 N First Street owned by Escovitz Furniture caved in causing extensive damage to a truck and several automobiles.

Duquesne Motor Coach Lines resumed operations on a limited schedule Wednesday afternoon after being idle for several days.

Postmaster Phillip McDermott reported that mail was being delivered as usual with exception of the department’s new mobile unit.

Streetcar traffic, disrupted Friday night bud not resumed operations at press time today.

Garbage collections on streets already cleared were resumed today. Officer William Raible requested that an effort be made to have all garbage in containers. Regular collection schedules will be resumed as soon as possible.

Taxi cabs are back in service offering transportation to any point where travel can be made.


They Still Talk About the Ferocious Snowstorm of 1950


Sunday, November 23, 2008

Headline writers called it “The Storm of the Century.”

On Nov. 23, 1950, Thanksgiving Day, the temperature dropped to a record five above. Then the snow began blowing.

By Friday morning, traffic was paralyzed by a coating of ice and 5 to 7 inches of snow.

The storm continued all day.

By Saturday morning, a dozen heart attack deaths were attributed to the storm.

By early Sunday morning, the city was buried under 2 feet of snow, with another 5 to 10 inches expected.

Thousands of workers were furloughed as mills and factories scaled back operations. Several buildings and countless porches collapsed under the weight of the snow.

By Monday, the local death toll had reached 27, and the Allegheny County Coroner cautioned “oldsters” — those 45 and older — against shoveling snow.

Some 25 miles east of the city, Irwin residents opened their homes to travelers. Motorists were stranded there when they exited the Pennsylvania Turnpike at what was then its western terminus and found Route 30 impassable.

Mayor David Lawrence called upon 200 National Guardsmen to enforce a city-ordered blockade of Pittsburgh’s Golden Triangle.

By the time it was over, the death toll from the storm would reach 278 in the Ohio Valley. Even icicles were deadly. A North Braddock man died after one at U.S. Steel’s Edgar Thomson Works broke loose and struck him.

But it wasn’t all death and disaster. There were 225 births in 15 Pittsburgh area hospitals during the storm.

“Many of them arrived ‘special delivery,’ their Mama got to the hospital via police car,” the Pittsburgh Sun Telegraph reported.


Storytelling: 1950 Snowstorm Paralyzed the City But Not This Dad

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

By Ed Borrebach

Skiers make their way along a Squirrel Hill street following the great Thanksgiving weekend snowfall of 1950.

The day after Thanksgiving 1950, on Nov. 24, I was at work as an electrical engineer in Building L of the East Pittsburgh plant of Westinghouse Electric Corp.

Five months before I had accepted a job there after graduating from Tufts College in Massachusetts and had migrated in our new Plymouth, with our even newer, 6-week-old baby boy.

There had been some snow on the ground that morning, but who’s afraid of a little snow? So like one of the seven dwarfs (not naming which one), off to work I went, only thinking that it was the thing to do.

Really, though, not one of us knew that a major storm was on the way. We had only radio. No TV, no cell phones, no BlackBerrys. So there we were at work while the snow kept a-falling.

Finally, around noon, we were told by management that we could leave. I took the trolley car up Ardmore Boulevard, close to Rebecca Avenue in Wilkinsburg, where I’d parked my car. The snow was building up, with lots of big flat white snowflakes that had no thought of melting.

I cleaned off the car and drove off to Squirrel Hill, where we had a small basement apartment (the only type of residence we could afford on $315 a month salary) on Woodmont Street. I was not alone on the road; there were other drivers trying to get home before the storm worsened. It was a long, slow trip, but there wasn’t a Squirrel Hill Tunnel at the time, so it could have been worse!

I made it home, finally, and parked out front at the curb. The snowfall was intense. We soon found ourselves in a beautiful white world. The snow built up to more than 30 inches deep.

My car was just one of many cars completely hidden under snow. Each was just a lump in a world of white lumps. I put on overshoes, but the snow was too deep for them, so I shoveled my way to the street and scraped off the car top — I feared of a cave-in. Driving anywhere was out of the question.

Back in the basement we talked about our son and his diet of whole milk. Where could we buy some? It was necessary for me to venture out in search of some milk. I walked up to the corner of Murray and Forbes avenues looking for signs of life. I found no open stores.

You can see from the picture I took that the old Route 22-30 through Pittsburgh at the time was still completely impassable.

Finally, well down a road running parallel to Forbes, I found a milk truck (one that delivered pre-ordered quart bottles of milk daily to residences) and there I was able to plead for and buy a bottle. I still think of and give thanks to that dear man for daring to be out in such weather — even with chains on the wheels and the weight of the truck, it was no picnic — and for selling me a bottle of this life-giving nectar for my son.

I had just come from the Boston area, where people at that time seemed less friendly, to use a kind euphemism. I learned then and many times afterward that people in Pittsburgh are a friendly bunch. I loved it then and love it now


1950 Storm: Snowed-In and Happy

December 4, 2009


On Thanksgiving Day, Nov. 23, 1950, I was nine years old in my little hometown village of Bridgeburg, Pa. Again, Thanksgiving was a great day for me and my family, which included my mother, father and brother. It was a pleasant day with a fine feast and many reasons to give thanks. We had no television at the time, but I listened to “Dragnet” on the radio that evening. During the late evening or early morning snow started to fall.

It was Friday morning, and we didn’t have school, thank goodness, due to the holiday. My father worked night shift at the local brickyard, and on Fridays we all went to Kittanning for groceries. My brother and I were hoping to take in a matinee at the movies. Before we piled into our 1946 maroon Plymouth, I had an early snowball fight with one of the neighbor kids. I just loved to see the snow come down, and by then, snow started to accumulate. We rushed to Kittanning quickly, which was a five-mile trip, and my parents purchased their weekly supply of groceries and hurried back home due to the weather and no tire chains on our car. There was no time for a movie matinee.

The snow kept pelting down with no end in sight. We arrived home safely, and my dad walked to work, since the brickyard was close by. What weather news we received was from the radio in between “The Lone Ranger” and other favorite radio programs. It was not great, and the snow continued to tumble down. On awakening Saturday, Nov. 25, 1950, we couldn’t believe our eyes. It was still snowing, and snow blanketed everywhere we looked. My dad returned home from work and measured 23 inches of snow at that time. He was called out later to shovel the roofs over the brick ware due to fear of weight and collapse of those roofs. By Sunday, the snow stopped completely, but school was canceled on Monday and all the rest of the week. This was truly the best part of the snowstorm. Everything was shut down.

Since then it has been called the Great Appalachian Storm of 1950 and the 1950 Great Thanksgiving Snowstorm. Nearly 30 inches of snow covered Pittsburgh, and 2 feet or more blanketed Cleveland. West Virginia, western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio saw snowfall totals greater than 30 inches. Power was out to more than 1 million customers during this storm. It actually affected 22 states, killing 353 people and creating $66.7 million in damage. This, of course, was in 1950 dollars. U.S. insurance companies paid more money out to their policyholders for damage from this storm than for any other previous storm.

Steubenville’s snowfall exceeded 44 inches with snowdrifts up to 25 feet. The classic Ohio State-Michigan football game was scheduled on Saturday, Nov. 25, and was luckily played in Columbus where it was not quite as bad, but still is described as “The Blizzard Bowl.” The Big Ten Championship was on the line and a trip to the Rose Bowl. Michigan won 9-3 on 27 total yards gained without achieving one first down! Youngstown achieved 29 inches of snow. Many buildings collapsed under the weight of 2 to 3 feet of snow. The Ohio National Guard used Jeeps to transport people to hospitals and to deliver food to those in the rural areas. Ohio Gov. Frank Lausche declared a state of emergency in Cleveland, and the Youngstown-Warren area as drifts grew to 30 feet. Roads were closed; trains and buses canceled. People could not leave their homes for days. Milk and bread and other delivery trucks could not get through. School buses were halted, and it was a joyous occasions for all students. Snow clearing was much different in those days also, and, of course, they used no salt way back then.

So, here I sit on Saturday, Nov. 28, 2009, writing this piece some 59 years later with no snow but memories of the Great Thanksgiving Snowstorm of 1950.


Post Thanksgiving Snowfall Left Mid-Mon Valley Paralyzed In 1950


Sunday, January 24, 2010

Read more: Post Thanksgiving snowfall left mid-Mon Valley paralyzed in 1950 – Pittsburgh Tribune-

Unless you owned a pack of Iditarod sled dogs, chances were you weren’t going too far in the mid-Monongahela Valley when one of the heaviest snowfalls on record brought the area to a virtual standstill two days after Thanksgiving on Nov. 23, 1950.

The subject brought a flurry of inquiries in the wake of the recent rash of bitter winter weather, which paled in comparison to Mother Nature’s knockout punch a little more than 59 years ago.

The Charleroi Mail and The Monessen Daily Independent reported on Nov. 25, 1950, that the district was “paralyzed” by the storm. The Mail said there was an official reading of 18 inches at 7 a.m. that day. The storm had a serious impact on businesses, mills and factories as transportation was, for the most part stopped.

“With no streetcar and only limited bus service, some employees made it to their businesses the hard way — by walking,” The Mail reported. “Some trudged into Charleroi through the deep snow from outlying districts in Belle Vernon, Dunlevy, Long Branch, Twilight, Fallowfield Township, Fisher Heights, North Charleroi, Mapleview and even Elco.”

Similar accounts of the aftermath appeared in The Daily Independent, which said the people in the Monongahela Valley area were “trying to dig out from under nearly two feet of snow … which began yesterday morning and was still falling at noon today.”

The newspaper noted that Blue Ridge Bus Lines, the Valley’s only public transportion link to the “outside world,” had stopped service as most district highways were almost entirely blocked. Other bus lines “threw their schedules away,” but Westside Motor Transit, which connected many Valley towns, and Hilltop Line, which served Monessen locally, “were sending occasional runs through,” The Independent reported.

The storm disrupted operations at the Allenport and Monessen plants of Pittsburgh Steel Company, but Page Steel and Wire Division, Monessen’s other large industry, continued to operate without a hitch, officials told the newspaper.

“Our biggest job right now is trying to keep coal moving for the steam plant,” Nick Polkabla, superintendent of industrial relations at Pittsburgh Steel in Monessen, said. “The coke works is only working 40 percent of capacity and shutting down this plant requires considerable work.”

At Allenport, General Works Manager Joseph Simonin said operations were near-normal, although some employees were unable to make it to the plant.

“We plan to adhere to the regular work week schedule,” Simonin told The Charleroi Mail. “If a department is unable to operate at full capacity, there will be other work for the men who are able to come to the plant. We do not plan to alter the work week schedule in any way.”

Polkabla said hundreds of men were unable to leave the mill Friday night and continued to work in their departments on overtime. Those who reported to work Saturday morning and whose departments were not working were put to work clearing ice and snow.

Municipal street crews throughout the Mon Valley were working extended schedules in an effort to clear the snow for vehicular and pedestrian traffic.

Pictures on the front page of The Daily Independent showed snow cleared from Donner Avenue and sidewalks piled nearly to the top of the parking meters. The large parking lot at Pittsburgh Steel was closed and many vehicles there were completely covered, and virtually hidden, by snow.

Telephone service was operating on an emergency basis as a result of many Bell Telephone Company employees being snowbound in their homes. J.L. Buchanan, manager of Bell operations in Charleroi, said some night employees were held over Saturday morning and operators were straggling in a few at a time. Bell officials in Monessen offered similar comments.

Other notes of interest, as reported in the newspapers, included:

• Richard Lawson, Donora funeral director who operates an ambulance service, spent Friday night and early Saturday morning driving his ambulance between Donora and Charleroi-Monessen Hospital. He made three trips during the night, carrying three mothers-to-be to the hospital. But on his third trip, Mr. Lawson had to ask for treatment for himself. His exertions in driving over the snow-covered roads had exhausted him and he had to be admitted for treatment at the hospital.

• The Pitt-Penn State football game scheduled for Saturday at Pitt Stadium was delayed until Monday.

• A banquet honoring the Monongahela American Legion Junior baseball team which won the 25th District and state championships earlier in the year went on as scheduled. Pennsylvania American Legion commander Joseph McCracken was the featured speaker.

• Radio Station WESA in Charleroi was praised by civic, government, industrial and religious leaders throughout the area for performing “an unprecedented public service” during the emergency. Granted permission by the FCC to continue operations around the clock, WESA operated on a 24-hour schedule throughout the crisis. The station broadcast bulletins and appeals from stricken residents at regular intervals, keeping listeners updated on developments.

• Milk trucks were making deliveries as rapidly as possible to all points — commercial and residential — where access was possible.

• Attendants at the Jones and McDonough Funeral Home in Bentleyville endured 13 hours of treacherous conditions on six miles of blocked highway in responding to a death at a home in Ginger Hill. The men left the funeral home at 11 a.m. Sunday and were preceded by a large bulldozer to fight mountainous snow drifts. The hearse finally got back to Bentleyville with the body at 2 a.m. Monday.

• An engine and caboose were placed in emergency use by Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Railroad to convey a patient from Newell to Charleroi-Monessen Hospital. Arrangements were made for a Jeep to meet the rail cars at Belle Vernon station. Albert Manfield, who had been operating the Jeep to take doctors and nurses to and from the hospital, was called into service. A nurse also was waiting at Belle Vernon to assist the patient.

The storm, which dumped anywhere from two to three feet of snow in the area, had subsided by Nov. 27 and area residents were returning to “normal lives,” newspapers in the Mon Valley reported.

Public transportation remained curtailed in some areas and schools were to be closed Monday and Tuesday. Food supplies were “adequate” at district stores, milk and bread being the exceptions.

By Dec. 1, the Mon Valley was “almost dug out” of the record snowfall. Stores were operating on regular business hours, highways and streets were open, and public transportation was available. Schools were scheduled to open the following Monday.

The weather forecast called for some cloudiness and colder temperatures that night, followed by cloudy skies and rather cold conditions on Saturday, “probably followed by snow.”


Two additional articles from the Duquesne Times – 11-30-1950 –

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